I Am In Fact A Hobbit In All But Size. I Like Gardens, Trees, And Unmechanized Farmlands; I Smoke A Pipe,

“I am in fact a Hobbit in all but size. I like gardens, trees, and unmechanized farmlands; I smoke a pipe, and like good plain food (unrefrigerated), but detest French cooking; I like, and even dare to wear in these dull days, ornamental waistcoats. I am fond of mushrooms (out of a field); have a very simple sense of humor (which even my appreciative critics find tiresome); I go to bed late and get up late (when possible). I do not travel much.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY J.R.R. TOLKIEN - January 03, 1892

THIS VIDEO IS DEDICATED TO ALL THOSE CYBERPUNKS WHO FIGHT AGAINST INJUSTICE AND CORRUPTION EVERY DAY OF THEIR LIVES

“She is sunshine and grace!” he called to the other room, throwing his clothes into a duffle bag. “You just don’t understand, Jules!”

The russet-haired woman in the front room rolled her eyes as she gently petted one of her summoned creatures, a tiny bone minion with skin made of translucent green ooze, surprisingly dry to the touch. “She sounds horrid!” she called back. “And I’m horrid, I should know!”

“You’re not horrid,” Ewan chuckled as he came into the room. “And neither is Isidora. She’s just young and inexperienced. She needs someone to guide her understanding.”

“And you think you’re the one to do that?” Jules shook her head and took Ewan’s arm, pulling him toward the small window in his apartment. “You’ve barely been outside the ‘Reach yourself! She has plenty of guards and tutors to guide her.” She turned him to face her, looking down at him as she held both his shoulders. “I talked to Evelynn about her. And I talked to other people as well. You should get out of that job, Ewan. Lady Isidora is a spoiled child. She’ll get you killed pursuing some insane dream or other!”

Ewan struggled away from her grip, his expression hurt. “She may be doted on, but she’s not spoiled. And she’s certainly not a child. Just because she doesn’t want what you want--”

“What I want is you to be happy, Ewan!” she pleaded. “And following after this girl like a lost puppy isn’t going to make you happy!”

“Well I notice sleeping with every noblewoman you can lay your talons on hasn’t made you happy, either, Jules,” he whirled away from her and grabbed up his belongings. He didn’t have much and he needed to return to the Castillo manor house soon. “So I suppose we’ll just have to try different ways and see what works best.”

He moved to the door and stopped, unable to stay mad at her for too long. She’d been his friend as long as he could remember. “Just come by and meet her sometime,” he said gently. “But don’t bring your pets. Her father hates necromancers.”

“Such a charming family,” she muttered with a frown, but nodded at him. Their friendship ran deep and in both directions. “I’ll see you soon, Ewan. Take care of yourself.”

“I will, love,” he said, and headed toward his destiny.

For the longest time I wanted to do a study of how Renard transforms, and finally put this together. The tattoos are basically a collection of animal spirits so I’ve always imagined him just being able to grab onto one and pull it over like a skin. (Done with ink and a mix of photoshop)