This reminds me of an image that Robert E Howard wrote. An image where the scantly dressed babe that Conan just saved is confronting the bad guy. The villain was just brought to Conan and the babe was sitting on the floor and she was leaning up against Conan's leg. I loved that Image. That was where I first fell in love with Robert E Howard's world.
The "appropriately-owned damsel at her rescuer's feet" is the kind of theme that speaks volumes to me. Thanks for sharing that insight regarding this picture! I guess in my own way I'm a lot like Conan, of course. Except I don't own a sword, and I'd probably hurt myself with one before I'd manage to draw another person's blood with it. Then, too, my body shape is a bit different than his. Also, while my hair is at times approaching a "Conanesque" length, the reddish-brown and gray color makes me look more like the bad guys Conan regularly slays. Also, while Conan's face is marked with some prominent scars, the lines on my face are from battles with sleeplessness and tend to concentrate in the bags under my eyes, and the red-glare in my eyes themselves is the work of that bleary too-early awakening and long day of work instead of the rage that kills one's opponents. Come to think of it, the only thing I'm really comfortable killing are bugs, earwigs and box elder bugs especially, while doing away with mice and birds will drop me into a sulking depression for at least a few hours. Yeah, I'm like an over-sensitive, wimpy, sword-less, red-gray-haired Conan...
So, in the end, I guess I'm not really like Conan at all. But at least "my woman" likes to regularly take a place at my feet while I raise my weapon (pencil) and slay some idea by putting it on paper.
Wow, Shane, thanks for this. It was entirely too enjoyable a romp through my own world/psyche.
Wow, Shane, thanks for this. It was entirely too enjoyable a romp through my own world/psyche.