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そこに跪き許しを乞いなさい。
Pokaż parametry
- Oryginalny prompt
- FGO、モルガン、玉座に足を組んで座ってる、王城、
- Tryb
- pro
- Tag jakości
- ﹝Podpowiedzi﹞
- Rozmiar
- 1104 x 1824
- Niepożądane
- lowres, worst quality, low quality, bad anatomy, explicit, (nsfw:1.2),(nude:1.6),(nipple:1.2),naked
Pomocnik podpowiedzi
Model i LoRA użyte
Podobne obrazy
Pokaż więcej1girl, solo, sitting on throne, seated, leaning back, crossed legs, hands on armrests, long violet hair, straight hair, hair past waist, violet eyes, glowing eyes, eye glow, luminous violet irises, pale skin, light smile, closed mouth smile, faint smile, looking at viewer, half-closed eyes, deep purple velvet gown, gold embroidery, high collar, long sleeves, gold cuffs, bare earlobes, no hair ornaments, unadorned hair, from below, low angle, foreshortening, throne room, dark hall, stone columns, tall arched windows, night, moonlight, cool palette, deep purple, gold, black, cold blue moonlight, dramatic lighting, rim light, cinematic, no text, no speech bubble
The camera sits low at the foot of the dais and tilts up, so the throne's tall back rises behind her and the armrests sweep in toward the lens in foreshortening. She is dropped back against the throne's upholstered back rather than perched upright: her spine against the padded panel, one shoulder lower than the other where she has let it slide, legs crossed with the upper knee over the lower and the lower foot hanging free with the toe of one velvet slipper just off the dais step. Her right palm rests flat on the right armrest and her fingers curl over its carved end, the gold ring of the armrest pressing a pale groove into her fingers; her left forearm lies along the left armrest with the wrist slack. The gown pools around her hips and spills over the seat's edge, its deep purple velvet catching a napped sheen where the cloth breaks over her thigh, and gold embroidery traces the high collar and the wide turned-back cuffs, the thread flaring where light hits the raised stitches.
Her chin is tipped down toward the low camera while her eyes come up under half-lowered lids to meet the lens — a faint closed-lip smile, one corner a fraction higher than the other, the lower lip pressed and released once as if she were holding back a word. Her hair falls straight past her waist, some of it forward over the gown's shoulder and some of it caught behind her shoulder against the throne back.
Her eyes are the light of the picture, and their glow is the revealer: the violet irises carry their own luminous core, and that light runs down onto the tops of her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, and lays a cool violet sheen along the inner edges of the armrests where nothing else reaches. The only other source is moonlight through the tall arched windows behind and to her left — a hard cold blue edge on her shoulder, the collar's gold, and the armrest's crest, while her face's lower half and the hollow of the throne stay in a clean shadow that the eye glow pushes gently back. Beyond the dais the hall falls away into black stone columns and floor, unlit and absolute.
Palette held to deep violet, tarnished gold, black and cold blue moonlight, with the eye glow as the single warm-cool anomaly inside it. Crisp cel linework with flat shadow shapes and a velvet nap rendered in soft gradation, quiet and regal.
Lady Lilith
e1
白髪の女王・玉座の剣
eitaeita.1007@icloud.com
1girl, solo, sitting on throne, seated, leaning back, crossed legs, hands on armrests, long violet hair, straight hair, hair past waist, violet eyes, glowing eyes, eye glow, luminous violet irises, pale skin, light smile, closed mouth smile, faint smile, looking at viewer, half-closed eyes, deep purple velvet gown, gold embroidery, high collar, long sleeves, gold cuffs, bare earlobes, no hair ornaments, unadorned hair, from below, low angle, foreshortening, throne room, dark hall, stone columns, tall arched windows, night, moonlight, cool palette, deep purple, gold, black, cold blue moonlight, dramatic lighting, rim light, cinematic, no text, no speech bubble
The camera sits low at the foot of the dais and tilts up, so the throne's tall back rises behind her and the armrests sweep in toward the lens in foreshortening. She is dropped back against the throne's upholstered back rather than perched upright: her spine against the padded panel, one shoulder lower than the other where she has let it slide, legs crossed with the upper knee over the lower and the lower foot hanging free with the toe of one velvet slipper just off the dais step. Her right palm rests flat on the right armrest and her fingers curl over its carved end, the gold ring of the armrest pressing a pale groove into her fingers; her left forearm lies along the left armrest with the wrist slack. The gown pools around her hips and spills over the seat's edge, its deep purple velvet catching a napped sheen where the cloth breaks over her thigh, and gold embroidery traces the high collar and the wide turned-back cuffs, the thread flaring where light hits the raised stitches.
Her chin is tipped down toward the low camera while her eyes come up under half-lowered lids to meet the lens — a faint closed-lip smile, one corner a fraction higher than the other, the lower lip pressed and released once as if she were holding back a word. Her hair falls straight past her waist, some of it forward over the gown's shoulder and some of it caught behind her shoulder against the throne back.
Her eyes are the light of the picture, and their glow is the revealer: the violet irises carry their own luminous core, and that light runs down onto the tops of her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, and lays a cool violet sheen along the inner edges of the armrests where nothing else reaches. The only other source is moonlight through the tall arched windows behind and to her left — a hard cold blue edge on her shoulder, the collar's gold, and the armrest's crest, while her face's lower half and the hollow of the throne stay in a clean shadow that the eye glow pushes gently back. Beyond the dais the hall falls away into black stone columns and floor, unlit and absolute.
Palette held to deep violet, tarnished gold, black and cold blue moonlight, with the eye glow as the single warm-cool anomaly inside it. Crisp cel linework with flat shadow shapes and a velvet nap rendered in soft gradation, quiet and regal.
Lady Lilith
e1
sole female, 1girl, young adult woman about 20, slender build, tall, c-cup, white hair, long hair, hair to waist, golden eyes, yellow eyes, silver crown, small crown, black corset, corset mini dress, form-fitting dress, black tights, pantyhose, black cape, mantle, cape over shoulders, holding sword, western sword, vine motifs on blade, ornate hilt, spirit sword, sitting, sitting on throne, crossed legs, leg over leg, throne room, dark, dim lighting, audience hall, cold expression, expressionless, jitome, half-closed eyes, looking down at viewer, from below, low angle, dutch angle, full body, cowboy shot, indoors, stone architecture, volumetric light, dark background, single light source
The camera looks up from below and slightly to her left, tilted a few degrees off level, so the throne rears over the viewer and the dais edge cuts the bottom of the frame. She sits deep in a tall black-stone throne carved with blank lancet niches, one leg crossed over the other at the knee: the upper thigh lies along the lower, the top foot hangs free with the toe pointed down, and the whole weight of her hips and lower back is against the seat back, her spine set straight, shoulders level, chin level and very slightly drawn in. Both black-stockinged legs read as one continuous dark line from hip to pointed toe, the tights catching a thin sheen along the shin. Her right hand rests along the armrest, fingers curled loosely over its end; her left hand closes around the grip of a long western sword held upright beside her knee, the pommel just above the armrest, the crossguard a spread of silver vine leaves, the blade running down past her leg with curling ivy chased into the steel near the ricasso. She wears a black corset mini dress cut close to the body line, its boning seams tracing the waist and the modest C-cup bust, the hem stopping high on the thigh; a black mantle is fastened at both shoulders and falls behind her arms and over the back of the throne, its hem pooling off the seat edge. A small silver crown sits level on her head, unadorned points against her hair, and her waist-length white hair spills over both shoulders and down the mantle's dark cloth, a few strands across the corset's front. Her golden eyes are lowered and fixed on the viewer at the foot of the dais, lids half down, brows flat, mouth closed and level, no smile anywhere in the face. The only light is a cold shaft from high windows out of frame behind and above her right shoulder: it strikes the crown, the near side of her hair, the shoulder of the mantle and the flat of the sword, leaving her far cheek and the recesses of the throne in deep shadow, and it throws her long shadow and the sword's shadow down the steps toward the lens. Beyond the light, the audience hall is given over to darkness: a floor of worn dark stone, two rows of bare columns receding into black, and no other figure in the room. Palette confined to cold blue-grey light, black, silver and the single warm gold of her eyes. A still, cold grandeur.
eitaeita.1007@icloud.com
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