Nov 2, 2026

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Lorelei

Contest Entry

PixAI × zeta Original Character Creation Contest 2026

#Gaun #mata biru #1 perempuan #gadis naga #Kulit biru #Siang #mulut tertutup #Orang ramai #Kulit berwarna #Semak

Diterbitkan pada Nov 3, 2026

Marco Iori

Lebih Banyak untuk Dilihat

1girl, solo, draenei, purple skin, pink hair, long hair, teenage, small chest, cleric dress, no bra, no underwear, timid smile, light morningstar, holding weapon, standing, from side, looking at fresco, ancient painted wall, fresco depicting ancient civilization, half-destroyed house interior, overgrown plants, trees growing indoors, crumbling plaster, beam of morning light, dust motes, profile, head tilt, lowered lashes, light smile, bare shoulders, bare arms, tail, pointed ears, small horns, hooves, A profile view from her left side, camera at chest height and slightly behind her shoulder, so the ruined wall fills the right two-thirds of the frame and she stands at the left edge facing into it. She is a teenage draenei girl: deep violet-purple skin with a faint lavender sheen on the cheekbone and shoulder, long pink hair falling past her waist in loose soft strands, a few locks lifted and stirred by the draught coming through the broken roof. Her silhouette carries the draenei line -- two short curving horns sweeping back from her brow, long pointed ears with a faint pink flush at the tips, a thick tapering tail curling low behind her calves with its tip hooked in a relaxed S, and heavy hooved legs planted on cracked flagstones. Her cleric dress is a simple white and gold vestment: a fitted white bodice with gold trim at the neckline and hem, a long white skirt split high at the hip for movement, gold-embroidered cuffs. The fabric pulls softly across her small chest, visibly unsupported -- the cloth reads smooth and unbroken beneath, with no strap line and no underlayer -- and the skirt hangs with a single clean fall of cloth over bare hips beneath, no waistband of anything under it. She holds the light morningstar loosely in her right hand at her side, its spiked head resting near her knee, shaft angled down and back, her fingers curled light around the grip. Her head is turned three-quarters toward the fresco, chin lifted a little, and she gives a timid smile -- lips closed, one corner tugged slightly higher, a faint blush high on her cheeks, eyes soft and lowered as they trace the painted figures. Her gaze lands on the fresco's central scene; she is not looking at the camera. The wall before her is the interior face of a half-destroyed house: a great painted fresco running from waist height to above her head, its plaster cracked and stained, one whole corner sheared away to open sky. The painting shows an ancient civilization in faded ochre, deep blue and terracotta -- robed figures in procession, a domed temple, a river with boats, columns and a sun disc -- the pigment flaking in patches, a hairline crack running diagonally through the painted crowd, and where the plaster has fallen the raw brick shows through. Plants and trees grow all around: a young tree has rooted in the rubble at the wall's base and leans its trunk across the lower fresco, ivy threads up the plaster in green veins, ferns spill from a broken window ledge, grass tufts push between the flagstones at her hooves, and a canopy of leaves filters the light from the open roof above. The only light is the morning sun striking down through the broken roof at a low angle from upper left; it lays a bright bar across the fresco's painted temple and catches the edge of her cheek, her shoulder and the morningstar's head, while the rest of the room sits in cool violet-green shadow. Dust motes drift visibly in the sunbeam. The colour is built on purple and pink against the fresco's faded ochre and the green of the encroaching plants. Where the sunbeam crosses the ivy, the leaves throw small hard shadows onto the painted plaster. Quiet, tender, reverent.

Lorelei

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