#Cai might draw this later | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

noonmutter · 2 years

Text

Hellraisers Pt. 3.5: Hell in Heaven (cont)

DWC August 2022 Day 5: Fluff/Shiver

Cay sighed, a fizzle of crackling purple energy rolling from their head to their feet. "I'll- I'll tank then. T-try for the boxes."

Speaking with a voice that seemed sourceless, an invisible Ansul said simply, "On it, boss." As the rogue began to move away, a flare fired into the glittering sky overhead, and a few seconds later, a dull thoonk from the same spot as the gunshot sent a small, ominous cylinder hurtling toward the wildseed. Thankfully, it wasn’t incendiary, but the resulting explosion coated everything it touched in clinging dust of an unpleasantly bright greenish tint.

Unable to do anything about the dust and sure that Ansul wasn’t hurt, Cay focused on the more immediate threat. They inhaled and let out a silent, deafening scream, hoping to scatter the worgen or draw all their attention.

They succeeded in making sure all five of the frothing worgen advancing on their position were focused entirely on them and not remotely interested in the crystal behind them. Unfortunately, they were suddenly and sharply reminded of how terrifying it was to have five frothing worgen focused entirely on them and heading toward them. For just a second, all Cay could do was whimper.

As much as Caythaes believed themself to be a bit of a cockroach, they hadn't actually ever fought more than one person at a time before, but it was too late to do anything besides deal with it. They picked one of the worgen from the center of the pack and lifted their hands, red anima gathering at their fists and around the beast's head.

Tactically speaking, Ansul knew it was the wrong choice not to pursue the sniper. But for all that he didn't care about the controlled worgen, he couldn’t leave someone in a robe to be swarmed. Swearing under his breath, he reappeared in dulled Alliance blue and grey armor above one of the worgen. As he fell onto the beast, he sank a pair of stiletto-style knives into its neck as casually as one might box its ears. Worgen didn't typically yowl that way; it was more of a cat thing to do–particularly a cat who'd been set on fire–but sudden knives in the neck had a way of changing the status quo. As Ansul's worgen collapsed in a thrashing heap, a second one turned to tackle him off its comrade with a vicious snarl.

As their spell took hold of their chosen attacker and it slowed its own charge, Cay shouted, “No! Attack the BOXES!”

"They are trying to kill us!" Unable to disappear again thanks to whatever was in that dusty green shit, Ansul fell back on dodging and backpedaling while he pulled something from a pouch at his belt.

Cay's chosen target, now firmly under their control, had time to stop running and wind back for a swing at one of its two remaining fellows before its collar erupted in crackling blue. An electric surge brought it to its knees, howling in pain. The other two paused at the sight, and their collars likewise crackled to life until they made their final pounce at the caster.

As they watched their would-be minion fry, Cay breathed, "Shock collars..." and then threw up a shield before they could be bowled over. The attacking pair crashed into the shield and scrabbled at it with long, dull claws and sharp, yellow fangs screeching and gnashing uncomfortably close to their face, but thankfully, it held.

They focused their attention on the collars, throwing out a volley of fireballs in the hopes that one would score a hit and break them. The impact sent the worgen flying backward, and they seemed inclined to stay where they landed before their collars jolted them back to their feet to try again. The controlled one on the ground had no chance to dodge the flames, and while it was also very unhappy from the impact, the collar did end up charred and fizzling around its neck, apparently ruined.

Taking advantage of the mayhem, the last furry assailant finally drew first blood for Team Furball when it lunged forward to swipe both sets of claws across the rogue's abdomen. It wasn’t quite the disembowelment the beast had been hoping for, but it was certainly a start, and it stung like a bitch regardless. Ansul dropped and rolled backward with the hit, coming back up on his feet and launching himself into a tackle against his assailant. There were no knives in his hand, just a small jamming device he slapped onto the worgen's collar as they tumbled across the grass. For a second, it seemed like Ansul’s gadget successfully shut down the collar before it crackled to angry life and gave them both a good hard jolt before they separated.

Utterly terrified by the sheer amount of snarling worgen in their face, Caythaes swallowed thickly before shouting, "Hanged man! Th-they're being controlled!" and throwing out a hand. Golden bolts flew forth, and one struck true, leaving one more worgen reorienting itself without a collar motivating it. That done, Cay’s attention shifted, throwing another shield around Ansul while reinforcing their own.

Almost like a reminder that it was there, another gunshot rang out from the trees, and Cay's new shield shattered like spun sugar practically the instant they put it up. The last worgen standing by Cay saw the opportunity it was given and clamped its teeth down on the elf’s fleshy arm to give it the worst kind of nomming imaginable. Dark magic wreathed Caythaes's arm, significantly dampening the amount of pain they felt, but it still staggered and frightened them. They let out a soft whimper before pulling their prosthetic hand back and aiming a punch at the worgen's face.

Hot off the heels of a profoundly uncomfortable equipment failure he’d barely managed to save himself from thanks entirely to Cay’s shield, Ansul hollered and swore up a storm. He didn’t have time to examine that failure right then; instead, he pulled another of those devices and a dagger as he charged toward Cay and their bitey little friend.

Bitey paid for that brief victory, first with a punch from a mechanical fist right to its delicate snoot and then to a dagger and a thing on its neck that made the collar go zap and--... then the zapping stopped, and oh yay! But then there was the matter of that dagger... The worgen didn't want to be stabbed, no matter what was going on, so it made a desperate grab for the knife. Ansul let the knife go and skittered back; he had more and could replace them if they went missing. "No more biting means no more stabbing!"

Caythaes dropped onto their rump with a soft grunt, chin wibbling as they steadied their breathing. For the moment, they trusted Ansul to deal with the worgen, and they closed their eyes, searching for the sniper's mind.

The worgen flung its newfound knife into the woods now that it was no longer being stabbed, then sat down to lick its palm. The other worgen (that weren't slaughtered) had lost whatever will they had to fight now that their collars were not creating an external source of it...

...and the giant, furry hand holding the remote control for that source irritably crushed it as Cay focused through his eyes. They could see him pick up an impressive, heavy rifle and step toward what seemed to be a handmade mortar tube, picking up a belt of very standard-looking explosive grenades. They heard a low, sneering growl practically curl into a purr of "Gotcha" before their connection to the gunman fizzled out.

"Ooookay," Caythaes murmured, their fingers drumming on the ground as they took a mental inventory of what was on them. A pistol probably wouldn't be enough, given the size of that rifle, and maybe their shields would hold up against an explosion, but they didn’t want to risk it. Scrambling to their feet, Caythaes ran to Ansul and made a grab for his bicep. "We- we need to get away? I- I don't know if he's going to aim for us, or Shedwyn, but- but I don't want him hitting both."

Ansul looked at Cay like they were bonkers for a moment, but he had a very good idea of where the sniper was because he saw him just before this all started. After half a second to orient himself and say, "Okay, go!" he took off in that direction, zig-zagging because sniper and stupid fucking green dust.

Just as Ansul broke away, Cay noticed an odd shimmering along the tree line that they recognized but couldn’t quite place. It clicked into place at the same time the sound of a rifle cocking reached their ears from about ten feet behind them. The same voice cheerfully piped up, "Wotcher, knife-ear? Li'l off th' top?"

The cock of the rifle had Cay staggering to a halt almost before they started running. They sighed, taking a moment to collect themself before whirling around and throwing out their hands. A pillar of fire burst to life over the gunman's head and dropped down towards him. Even in a heavy, oiled duster and covered in a nigh-Liefeldian number of pouches, pockets, and bandoliers, the decidedly unferal worgen moved fast, tucking and rolling as soon as he saw the elf's hands move.

Once again swearing a blue streak (they really shouldn't let him out of his office with that kind of potty mouth), Ansul slid to a stop and sprinted back toward Cay. Throwing knives out in one hand and the pistol based on Terry’s Babygirl in the other, he unloaded all his shots as soon as he thought he was remotely in range.

The gunman was a guy with survival instincts and obvious training, though there was only so much he could dodge with almost no cover before he ran out of luck. One of the bullets ripped across the duster, grazing his back and making him swear before he took a couple potshots toward the pair to keep them from volleying more. "Tha' slag can't be tha' bloody important t' you!"

As the gun went off, Caythaes reflexively raised their hands, creating a wall-shaped magic barrier in front of them and Ansul. The rogue barely pulled up short of face-planting against it.

Cay shrugged. "I- I feel like at this point, it's- it's a bit more self-defense, really. I- I have no idea what's going on."

Ansul almost didn’t respond at all but came up with, “Just don't like racists," as he moved to put himself between the iceblocked wildseed and the gunman. His pistol was empty, but he still kept it pointed at the worgen.

"Good! Then I'll get rid o' that'un for you an' we'll both get what we want, an' I won't 'ave t' kill you both. Ev'ryone wins!"

"I-I think M-Miss Shedwyn and Terry's children lose," Caythaes mutters to themself, their ears tipping back.

The gunman poked his head out, just barely, from behind the rock he'd chosen for the moment, jerking his thumb at the crystal. "Lotta people want 'im dead an' I bet you know 'ow much 'e deserves it."

With a shake of their head, Cay raised their voice and said, "Actually, I don't! So, um- as far as I'm concerned, y-you just started attacking for no reason!" They paused, flicking a hand towards Ansul, imbuing him with haste. "A-anyway, y-you called me knife-ears, so. Y-you've been more racist to me than Terry." They wondered if they could keep him monologuing long enough for Terry to hatch.

"Wh- hey, I- ..." Ansul looked away like he was running some calculations in his head, "Actually nah, I just wanna shoot him myself!" He didn’t use that speed boost to make a beeline for the guy, but rather for another spot of cover safely away from Cay, the gunman, and the hunk of crystal containing the wildseed.

The latter of which was starting to glow blue.

The gunman was annoyed and done talking once he heard running that was much too fast for his liking. Instead of opening fire, he lobbed a grenade out after Ansul. When Caythaes saw it, they released a tired sigh and dropped the barrier, switching back to a personal bubble. There was some relief when they managed to catch the remnants of a void-based, directional teleport after the explosive went off. It was accompanied by the flailing of someone trying to hide their glowing greenness behind the cover they managed to reach.

They squeaked and ducked their head reflexively as the gunman took aim to fire at the stammering elf that was still too close to his actual target. The shot pinged off the shield, so Cay took off running right at Mister Shooty McShooterson. They pulled back their left sleeve and popped a panel on their prosthetic, pulling out a small pistol. They didn't take the time to aim, just providing cover fire.

Cay's pot-shots did save them from being hit by the gunman’s retaliation, but not from the absolute whoopin’ of a furry wall slamming into their much smaller frame. They didn’t know how else to handle a full-on tackle, hitting the ground flat on their back and gasping for air. The best they could do was roll out of the way before the worgen gunman trampled them.

Blue light began to swirl inward and around Shedwyn within the crystal, taking on green tones, then gold tones as it became downright painful to look at. Fortunately, the only one trying to look at it was the gunman, who solved his problem by looking down at his rifle to reload it as fast as he could. The protective rock cooked off in a final, brilliant flash of light, dissipating back into motes of arcane energy and hanging in the air around Shedwyn’s floating body. The wildseed it had been protecting alongside the wee mage had practically burst open, not unlike a popcorn kernel, from the top.

Shedwyn raised her head, looked directly at the gunman, and growled, "YOU," with a darkly satisfied sense of recognition that reverberated through the trees. She wasn’t expecting the worgen to snarl the same word right back at her in response, though he was furious rather than pleased. Staring up at her in nearly frothing hate, he planted his feet, took aim, and fired straight at her face.

The motes around her snapped into a wall of spinning 2-dimensional shapes, like glowing shards of glass. She stared at the bullet as a few shards enveloped it, then reached for it. The rest turned 90 degrees and launched at the gunman almost as an afterthought.

As soon as Caythaes realized the gunman was ignoring them, they rolled to their knees and clawed at the air, summoning red anima to their hands once again. It swirled around the worgen's head, trying to take control of him long enough that one shot was all he got.

A low, ominous growl rumbled up from within the burst wildseed. With a final flash of green light and the briefest glimpse of Eonar's smirking visage in the air above it, a black-and-tan worgen erupted from the pod, entire body aglow in golden circuitry underneath his thick, bristly fur.

Terry reached up with one massive hand to grab Shedwyn by the ankle, snarled "Mine!" and threw her, shield and all, straight at their enemy.

Shedwyn was a tad more in practice with this particular move than the last time she was around Terry's worgen form–It turned out Kyrian could be pretty disrespectful once you gave them the idea and permission. Still, the joy that lit her face at the sound of his horrible voice became panic, and she yelped, "No, not-!"

The gunman was too busy shielding his face with his duster and trying to stave off the intrusion of another mind to see the freight train coming, but he could hear it. This, unfortunately, meant only that he was aware of how fucked he was in the couple of seconds he had before Dwyn crashed into him like a tiny missile.

Caythaes had been concentrating with all their might on keeping the gunman distracted. So, when Terry weaponized his wife, they weren't paying any attention, and the impact of wife on wolf caught them off guard, making them yelp and scramble to their feet as the worgen skidded towards them.

Shedwyn curled nearly fetal as she slammed down into the gunman, so she wasn’t too stunned to immediately pull her shield shards back in and backhand him across the nose with all the strength her rage could bring to bear. Smacking a dog with a rolled-up newspaper got the same sort of yelping noise that being straight-up bitchslapped did. She wasn’t weak, but he was a furry tank, and the noise was mainly because he wasn’t expecting her to slap him, of all things. A slap was something he could recover from, though it took a lot more effort when she kept fucking slapping him.

Eventually, he managed to wriggle his rifle up between them enough to shove hard and get the screaming little banshee the fuck off of him.

And so arrives Terry, given ample time to crawl the rest of the way out of his cocoon…seed…thing…and shake out the cobwebs. His lip curled back to reveal every single crooked nightmare tooth, and he stomped steadily faster toward Dwyn and the gunman with nothing but murder in them glowing golden eyes.

He wasn’t fifteen feet tall like in Revendreth anymore, and he wasn’t controlling six armored minions. But a nine-foot-tall worgen empowered by a Titan and full of pent-up aggression was more than enough.

Ansul, finally recovered from his close brush with a grenade, staggered out of cover and took in the entire messy scuffle. Nope. He then decided to stagger over to the nearest feral worgen that he didn’t know was feral. "Hey. Sup? We cool?"

Caythaes took one look at what was about to happen, then watched Ansul stumble out of the bush and decided, "Mmm, yeah, Miss Shedwyn's got this." They likewise staggered over to Ansul, eyeing his chosen worgen before saying, "Ah, good, you're in one piece. Uh. As- if he doesn't bite, I need you to catch me."

The feral stared at Ansul like he had seven heads for a minute, made a confused 'baroo?' sort of sound, then finally scrabbled to its feet and ran like hell into the trees. The others took this as their cue and followed. They would be very confused when they couldn’t figure out where Darkshire was.

Ansul shrugged, bringing up a lighter to a cigarette. Caythaes watched the beast run for a bit, hummed, nodded, then said, "Falling now," and swooned. Ansul leaped to catch Cay without dropping lighter or cigarette.

Shedwyn reeled back as she was levered away. Looking up at the stomping, she immediately realized that it was Terry, but it was not her husband. She glanced toward Cay and Ansul and, frustrated, grabbed the gunman by a finger and shrieked, "I said NOT NOW!" With a faint blong noise, both of them were contained in a sphere of energy that was just slightly too small for them. The gunman, unable to easily move and not a complete idiot, silently thanked his lucky stars he was inside the sphere and didn’t fight anymore.

Might’ve also peed a little.

Terry rammed into the sphere with a very frustrated "NOOOoooo" that practically screamed petulant four-year-old and suggested Dwyn had denied him things this way many, many times. Clawing and scrabbling at the sphere ineffectually, he was just an angry dog instead of a psychopath just looking for something to devour like the first encounter in Revendreth.

He was also completely unprepared for a full-grown, bellowing bull moose to come storming up the path and barrel into him at full speed. The glowing worgen went tumbling, briefly stunned but thankfully not gored. After he got to his feet and saw what hit him, his ears pinned back, and he thought about it. Even a nearly-feral giant of a worgen understood the implicit threat of a moose. Especially Terry’s own well-trained, extremely loyal moose.

The glowing worgen finished doing math and, with the signature sounds of bones snapping and organs squishing, decided he was done too, leaving a very wobbly, glowing, naked man standing there in his place.

"DWYN! DO I NEED T' KILL ANYBODY OR ARE THIN'S IN 'AND NOW?!" echoed across the grove after silence fell.

Ah. Leon. That explained where Toffee came from.

The sphere split just a little so Shedwyn could answer, "NEED HEALING, MANACLES, AND CLOTHES, PLEASE."

The shouting snapped Cay out of their swoon, and they came to first by tensing, then by letting out a groan that said they really wished they hadn't woken up and going limp in Ansul's arms. Dwyn's call for healing made them groan even harder.

"Noooooo," they whine, twisting as if they were going to try and roll to the ground. "I don't wanna yet.... need juice and a nap."

Hearing whining settled Leon's nerves some; whining wasn't screaming or wailing, so there wasn't necessarily an emergency. That meant it was safe to come up the rest of the way with the rest of his so-called cavalry: Lucien and Praecormu. "Well, if you can't, th' boy could use th' practice..."

Terry, for his part, went back to the wildseed and sat down before the kids saw his junk.

"No, I can," Caythaes sighed, holding up their mauled arm. "But-but probably I should have- have someone else heal me first." After a pause, they added, "And after some juice. Or tea. Is- is the teapot still upright?"

With a little frown of concentration that made him look exactly like his mother, Lucien bore down on Cay and Ansul, hands out.

A bit gravelly, which made sense since he hadn’t had occasion to speak much in the last few years, Terry answered, "Teapot fell in. S'not cracked, though."

"Oooh, tea~" Caythaes cooed, sounding a bit (or perhaps a lot) like Theotar at the moment. Someone was tired and woozy. They started to extract themself from Ansul but decided to behave for Lucien. "Um. Y-you can- yeah, just- I can sit."

Lucien’s head whipped around at the sound of Terry’s voice, and he hesitated. The little troll boy accompanying him–presumably Praecormu–placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him gently toward Cay, then split off and moved toward Terry. As soon as he came within reach, Terry eagerly scooped the boy up–troll or not–to hug him. There were too many people around, so Prae didn’t say anything that might embarrass Terry, just folding himself up against him.

Lucien nodded his thanks to Cay for being a decent patient, and after a quick once-over to assess, he placed his hands on either side of that crazy bite wound on their arm. "What did this?" He didn’t wait for a response before the sweet relief of holy magic started pouring into their arm.

Caythaes had had enough uncooperative patients that they were not going to inflict that on a novice. Plus, the pain in their arm was extraordinarily distracting, and the feeling of the holy magic was a relief. "Worgen bite. Not your father! A- another one that's uh. Probably very confused right now. Anyway-"

They paused as a thought occurred to them, scowling down at the bitemark. "Oh. Uh. Sh-should I worry about acquiring the affliction? I- I don't know how well that's going to, uh. Mix? With the whole, um... phoenix thing."

Lucien closed his eyes and concentrated. "Terry's bites are far messier than this. And the curse is largely broken, so it can no longer be transmitted. I was very worried about that when I first found out about him!"

Half-wearing his armor and carrying the rest over his shoulder, Leon brought up the rear, going to Shedwyn and the gunman to investigate them. "Luv...are you aware yer bleedin'?"

Dwyn glowered up at Leon from basically the gunman’s lap. "I was shot, but Eonar healed me." Leon was a touch skeptical since he could see flesh through that exit wound in her chest, not just skin. Before he had a chance to question her, she went a bit cross-eyed, leaned toward the sphere's edge, and the bubble popped as she passed out. Leon sighed a little bit, leaning down to carefully pick Dwyn up. He looked down at the glaring gunman, said only, "Stay put," then whistled softly at Toffee. Though the moose desperately wanted to go to his poppa, Toffee also recognized a threat when he saw one, so he trotted over and sat down on the gunman's chest. Leon heard a few bones crack, but for some odd reason, he couldn’t find any sympathy to spare for him and walked away.

The gunman, if he'd been planning to do any talking, was briefly very, very loud as a moose sat on him and then very, very quiet. He was definitely not dead, but he was now nursing a broken rib or two and disinclined toward further upsetting the moose.

Terry was utterly unconcerned with anything but the little boy in his arms. After a minute, though, he dragged himself to sit up again and stare out at Cay. "...I know you?"

Caythaes looked over at him and flashed a smile. "Nope! I'm, um- I'm with Leon. I'm helping!"

Leon approached the wildseed, looking down at his brother and Praecormu for a minute. He leaned down, thumped his forehead gently on Terry's, muttered something only Terry and Prae could hear, then dropped a pair of pants and a tatty linen shirt on his big brother's head. Terry didn’t even care that he was crying a little bit; he just put the frickin' clothes on.

Caythaes looked at the moose with a concerned expression, then decided they didn't care enough and returned their attention to Lucien. "Th-thank you for the healing. I- I can take care of Mister Ansul and Miss Shedwyn, if- if you want to go hug your father."

Leon padded up alongside Lucien and touched the boy's shoulder, "It's fine. I've got 'em now, hey?"

Lucien was, for several moments, torn between his duty as a healer (which he was trying to take very seriously!) and the offer. But y'know what, he hadn't seen his papa since his little brothers were born. So with a quick bow, he excused himself and went to tackle Terry and Praecormu.

Caythaes smiled softly as Lucien took off, humming a warm note before they got to their feet and followed him over. "I still want that tea!" They chirped, ignoring Terry as they grabbed the pot from the seed and found a cup from the ground. Terry, in turn, ignored Cay in favor of his eldest son throwing himself bodily toward him, hugging the kid while muttering an awful lot of Thalassian comforts to him. "Kept my promise" was easy to catch before Cay left with the teapot.

After pouring themself a cup and taking a sip, they hummed happily and returned to Leon. "So! Th-that could have gone worse. How are you?"

Leon leaned back on his hands once they settled. "Briefly terrified, but all thin's considered, seems I missed all th' fun... yer all right, then?"

"Th-the bite was the worst of it. M-Mister Ansul had- had a grenade thrown at him, but- but given that he's up and about, he- I presume he dodged it well enough."

Ansul grunted and continued to not mention the pounding headache and throbbing pain all along his back and belly. Finally, he lit his damn cigarette and went for a walk. He could get his own round of healing later.

Cay sipped their tea as they sat down and leaned heavily against Leon's side, their eye closing briefly. "T-tired now, mostly. A- a lot is catching up with me."

He cradled Cay's head a little bit, patting their cheek and watching the others with a faint smile on his face. "This's rather a lot more'n I ever intended t' ask o' you. Thank you."

"Mmm, b-but you know me," Caythaes murmured, melting even more against Leon as they reached up to give his hand a squeeze. "I- I'm always ready to help. And- and I was here, anyway. Wh-what was I supposed to do? L-let Terry be murdered after- after all I did to put him back together? Nope."

"Tch. Spoken like a Meddler, luv." Leon huffed a soft chuckle, rubbing Cay's hand with his thumb. "'Ope yer ready t' find out wha' it feels like t' 'ave a debt this big repaid."

(YES THE REST IS COMING THIS ONE TOOK THREE DAYS TO EDIT I JUST HAVE RAID NOW )

( @daily-writing-challenge @mekandawn @shedwyn )

#modified chatlog #rp stuff #and so arrives terry #the light in lordaeron #caythaes #shedwyn #dwc

3 notes · View notes

squadron-of-damned · 1 year

Note

okay so i tortured you with freddy the other time with the character ask meme and now i am going to annoy you again bc you literally made frieda up and i need input on that cunt of a woman

My first impression of them

When I think I truly started to like them (or dislike them, if you’ve sent me a character I don’t like)

A song that reminds me of them

Describe the character in one sentence

What’s the first thing you think about when thinking about the character?

A childhood headcanon

How do you think they were as a kid? (Like, were they shy, noisy, wild, etc)

A weird headcanon

What do you think is a secret they have that they never told anyone?

The most unnecessary thing they ever did?

How do you think they would be as a parent? (and if they are a parent, how do you think they would be if they weren’t?)

Feel free to add more that I did not cover/infodump me (ILY, i'm so sorry SYHLJK)

This is going to take me a while.

My first impression of Frieda were questions: "What kind of a person could have raise up Manfred von Karma for him to turn out the way he did? What was her fundamental flaw that they ingrained a trauma of perfectionism into two generations?" (arguably you could cay three generations; Manfred fathered Franziska fairly late) I knew what she needed to be for the story/family tree to make sense, but I also had to figure out how to make it make sense as a self-contained person.

I think that I first began really hating her when I got the idea that she corrected her children's (and their progeny's) grip on writing utensils and cutlery. (As a kid I had always loathed that and it more cemented in me to hold the pens and pencils wrong.) It was fairly late at night and some alcohol might have been involved, so the idea of that crossbred with the idea of "slapping ruler/twig over fingers as corporeal punishment" and it came out as breaking fingers, mostly on accident. Damage to fingers had always creeped the fuck out of me. So... since then I really do not like Frieda. At all. No going back.

Sorry, besides the Ride of the Valkyries I really haven't got anything right now. I'll get to this question at a later date.

"Your parent's control obsessed mother whose upbringing didn't teach them to be nice, but how to get around the rules, and by the gods you live in fear that as the years come you are going to grow up closer and closer to her image."

Hats. Specifically fascinaters. Second is the "First Republic era" (1918-1938) of Czechoslovakia. She is a girl of that era.

Did a lot of those child drawings. Her father never put a single one on display. So she was dedicated to "get better" until her drawings would be "good enough" to make it on the fridge or something the like. That was probably when all the shit began spiraling down...

As a kid she was doing her best to get her father's attention. However, papa was always very busy and didn't have much time for her. She had all the toys she wanted, was free to pursue any education in any field she wished... but papa didn't have time for her and mamma left when she was young. Baby Frieda just wanted someone who cared.

Living with Bernard had consequences and those consequences were Frieda's strange understanding of electronic and electricity. She owned a literal lightning in a bottle, until one day the fuse-box blew out, at which point 70-something old Frieda von Karma put on rubber gloves (for insulation), grabbed the lightning from the bottle, taped it into said fuse box and ever since then the electricity in the house behaves perfectly. Somehow.

She did actually eventually come to love Bernard. She found out a tad too late, though.

Probably fussed over her appearance too much. She had to look "perfect". I suppose a lot of anti-aging cream was involved in her routine.

I... I don't think I have to answer that one, do I? I mean... Take Manfred von Karma's parenting, take away all the honey (and pancakes) from it, then crank it up to eleven.

Seriously, Frieda's fascinaters are an important part of her characteristics for me, because it was the only thing of her she allowed to be expressive. Her demeanor was always poker-face stoic, her paintings were strictly realistic (unless she decided to do a different style, and even so it was a very realistic take). So her fascinaters were a way of communicating to her surroundings how she felt and what was she going through. She would swap them through the day if her mood changed.

#von karma fan family

0 notes

cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Victor’s Understanding the Human World Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Phone call between Victor and Goldman before the date: here

Candlelit Night Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Lucien

Trivia regarding the name of the date:

The date is called 遍阅人间色, which is loosely translated as “reading the colours of the human world”

This could be reference to a quote from 菜根谭 (Cai Gen Tan), a book written by a Ming Dynasty scholar and philosopher Hong Zichen

The full quote is: 阅遍人情, 始知疏狂之足贵; 备尝世味,方知淡泊之为真

A possible interpretation of it is: After experiencing all the things in the world, you will realise that ordinariness is the best

[ CHAPTER ONE ]

The date begins with MC, Anna and Kiki in the office, commenting on the work of her new intern (whose name is Wei Wei)

When the intern first started, her work was of horrifying quality. However, she has improved by leaps and bounds since then

The topic shifts to MC, and they comment that under Victor’s influence, she has become much more independent

MC receives an email from Victor at around 7pm telling her to amend parts of her proposal, so she stays behind

By the time she tidies up her materials, it’s already 9pm. She hears someone entering the office - Wei Wei returned to finish her work

MC is stunned by her work ethic and tells her to Relax™

But Wei Wei looks troubled and asks:

Wei Wei: Boss, would you feel upset if you fall for someone who is very bright and out of reach?

MC: Huh?

Wei Wei: I’m such a mediocre, normal, and plain person. It’s only when I don’t sleep, don’t rest, and keep running forward that I can catch up with him.

I seem to comprehend, yet not comprehend at the same time.

Wei Wei: No matter what, I have to keep running forward!

Victor calls and says he’d pick her up

MC has a sudden realisation - Wei Wei’s fast improvement happened after her visit to LFG with MC... 👀

[ CHAPTER TWO ]

All of a sudden, Victor informs her of his agreement to be a cameo in a short film which would be shot overseas by a guy called Ronan, and that they’re flying the next day

MC wonders who exactly Film Director Ronan is for Victor to just readily accept the role, but Victor doesn’t respond

When they arrive, MC is surprised to see that Director Ronan is a tall and slim, curly-haired young foreigner

MC: Nice to meet you, Director Ronan. I’m MC.

With a cheery smile, Ronan shakes my hand.

Ronan: Hello, bride-to-be.

I turn towards Victor confusedly.

Victor: Did you not hear a single word of what we were talking about just now?

MC: Of course not! You were both talking about... wedding attires, exchanging of wine cups... I understand that, but... I’m also acting?

Perhaps I look overly lost. Victor doesn’t even say that I’m stupid, but there’s a look of resignation implied in his glance.

MC: So this is what you meant earlier when you said I should prepare... I see...

After half an hour, I finally understand the situation completely.

Ronan is a very old friend of Victor. Even though he’s young, he is a famous film director in France, and has won numerous international prizes.

He’s currently on a long vacation, and is planning to prepare a short film. In it, he will convey his attitude towards love through the use of various cultures’ wedding customs.

The first stop for collecting materials is in China.

Ronan: It’s called Devotion, and will be my first non-fiction work. I hope it can be presented in a beautiful and well-designed form to convey genuine and believable emotions.

MC states that if she has the chance, she’d also want to go to different corners of the world to film

Victor responds with his usual remarks - “are you done with your report?”

Ronan laughs softly, revealing an intrigued expression.

He walks to me and bends down, meeting my eyes and giving me a wide grin.

Ronan: MC, Victor has a lot of little secrets. If you want to know anything, I can tell you.

At that moment, I feel as though I’m standing in front of a big mine, treasures laid out before me. I have no idea where to begin digging.

Victor: Why am I unaware that I have a lot of secrets?

Ronan gives him a light sweeping glance. Then, he raises his voice.

Ronan: I can tell you that many girls want to know his phone number.

MC: Eh?

[ CHAPTER THREE ]

While the staff help with her outfit and makeup, she overhears their conversion:

Makeup artist: Is that Victor?

Costume staff: He looks even better in person than on television. No wonder he’s so popular.

Makeup artist: You like his type?

Costume staff: Difficult to say. It’s easier to be with someone who’s a little better than a regular human, or someone who’s just two points better. For someone like him, who’s akin to the stars hanging up in the sky... liking him is futile.

I mull over these words, and several images flash across my mind, finally pausing at Wei Wei’s unbending expression.

MC enters the filming location and sees Victor, who’s looking at his script.

Sensing my gaze, Victor sets down the script in his hands and walks towards me. After looking me up and down, he finally gives a positive evaluation.

Victor: Not bad.

Sensing the glances of the staff members, I touch the hair accessories in my hair. A little embarrassed, I look around for the director.

MC: [blushing] Are we filming soon? Where’s Ronan?

Ronan: Here!

Without realising it, Ronan is standing behind me, a stunned look in his eyes.

Ronan: The Chinese wedding attire is so beautiful! We’ll go with what I mentioned just now. Don’t be nervous. The two of you just need to relax a little more, and I’ll be able to capture the best shots.

They begin filming. MC feels nervous, and strikes up a conversation with Victor

MC: Victor, don’t you think we’re always pretending to get married?

I’m unsure if Victor is pretending not to hear me, but he has no reaction at all.

MC: Victor, look at the moon tonight. It’s so round!

Victor: Mm.

MC: ...

After confirming that Victor is ignoring me on purpose, I change the topic.

MC: Victor, after you left the makeup room, Ronan came over and told me a lot of your secrets!

Victor: Did he tell you that many women want my phone number?

MC: Huh? No!

Victor smiles lightly, then meets my eyes.

Victor: Continue.

MC: He told me a story about close friends.

Victor arches his brows slightly, as though he already knows what I’m about to say.

MC: I heard that when LFG first started, a director with nothing to his name came looking for an investment. He boldly promised that his work would win a grand prize. The young CEO, with his good tastes, decisively invested after seeing his work. Afterwards, this work won a grand prize, and even three international prizes. Overnight, LFG became reputable in the industry. If that’s the case, he must be a close friend of yours. Why have you never mentioned him?

Victor: We have a good relationship, so there’s nothing to bring up. Also, we haven't met in three years.

MC: Three years?!

Victor: He’s busy with a lot of things. I am too.

Victor says this in an ordinary manner, but I hear the most moving overtones.

MC: But you dropped all your work the moment he called and asked you to film?

Victor: Encounters between people are very short-lived. The next time we meet, it might not just be three years later.

His tone is light, as though he’s talking about a normal matter. Yet, it’s as though I’m seeing pages with “The End” written on them. If the page is flipped once more, the book would close completely.

I suddenly think of many people in my life. People who were once close to me - people who had walked through many seasons with me - and how they silently left at some point in time.

Sometimes, I didn’t even realise that after waving goodbye to certain people, it would be the last time I would ever see them again.

Noticing that I haven’t spoken in a while, Victor speaks in a softer voice.

Victor: What are you thinking about?

MC: There are many important people I don’t want to only share short-lived encounters with.

Victor: For example?

MC: For example, you.

I answer without thinking, and without a second of hesitation. Even Victor pauses for a while after hearing my response.

Victor: MC, do you know the meaning of Hejin wine?

[Trivia: Hejin wine is also known as “The Wedlock Wine”]

For some reason, he changes the subject. He holds up the two wine cups in front of us.

Victor: “Jin” is a kind of gourd. It tastes very bitter, and is split into two halves and added to the wine. When the bride and the groom drink it together, it becomes Hejin wine. The meaning behind it is - you and I are originally one body. Whether it’s in joy or sorrow, or bitter of sweet times, we will go through it together.

While Victor speaks, he draws closer to me, placing one of the wine cups in my hand.

Victor: On this earth, there will be one person who will drink the same cup of wine together with you, and will experience the same taste as you. Other people will leave, but he wouldn’t. If you want to wait for other people to return, he will accompany you in waiting. This is the meaning of Hejin.

The red silk and the colour of his clothes blend together. The overwhelming colour of red envelops me.

The dazzling red candles are reflected in his pupils, and within them holds my dumbfounded expression.

In this pair of eyes, I see the world’s vastest tenderness.

Victor: I promise you. I will always be with you.

[ CHAPTER THREE: Extras ]

After Ronan is more-or-less done with filming, MC just chills outside

She tells Victor how she feels sad about not taking sufficient photos of themselves in their gorgeous attire

Victor: What other photos do you want to take?

MC: I want to pictures of the palanquin, pictures of the firecrackers, and kowtowing!

[Trivia: MC is referring to traditional Chinese wedding processions]

Victor: There isn’t a palanquin, and the firecrackers have already been set off earlier. If you still want to act, there’s only the kowtowing left.

I cast a glance towards the inner hall, slightly embarrassed.

They get into position :’)

MC: A bow to the heaven and the earth--

With the heaven, the earth and the cosmos as my witness, being able to meet you among the vast sea of people is already the best encounter in my life.

MC: A bow to the parents--

The parents witness the girl, who used to fall a lot when she was younger, grow up. In the years she spent growing up, she finally found someone to entrust her entire self to.

I turn my body slowly. For a moment, I don’t know what expression to have on my face, so I lower my head.

Victor: A bow to each other. Both witnessing the rest of our lives...

Victor speaks in a deep, unhurried voice. But he stops suddenly.

The mist-like moonlight seems to cage him in a thin and light dream.

MC: What?

He leans over and whispers into my ear. Every sound is immersed in the night, dim and inviting.

The familiar aroma of wood is in his breaths, mixed together with the cooling night breeze. I wonder if I should follow my instincts and sink into it, or wake up.

Victor: I’ll tell you next time.

[ CHAPTER FOUR ]

After the filming, Ronan sends MC and Victor to the hotel to rest, but tells them not to change out of their outfits just in case he needs to re-film certain segments

MC actually has no idea when Ronan started filming, or how the film is going to turn out. She only knows that it started the moment Victor lifted up the wine cup

Ronan just told her to keep looking at Victor with fascination in her eyes

MC: Victor...

Victor: Mm?

MC: Don’t you find “Devotion”, the name Ronan gave the film, very appropriate? I once read a poem where the poet used this word to describe the adoration between lovers. It’s a... similar feeling to having faith in each other. Even though two people are already extremely intimate, the ties between a desire for the other person and feelings which are as deep as the sea... they push one forward.

Victor is making tea. After hearing my serious interpretation, he tastes my words carefully.

Victor: Not a bad insight.

MC: But...

Victor: But what?

MC: Victor, do you know that you make people feel like you’re out of reach?

Victor: What do you mean?

MC: Something like... always hanging up in the sky brightly and brilliantly, and no one can possibly pluck the stars. Or the feeling of unattainability... You’re smart, strong, and can deal with anything calmly and properly. You give the impression that nothing is too difficult for you. You’re always decisive, wise, having an opinion and having goals. Unlike me...

The more I speak, the more I feel the words don’t match what I intend to say. After struggling for a while, I decide not to continue.

I thought Victor would feel at a loss in response to my sudden lament and random conversation topic. However, his expression is unexpectedly calm.

After a short moment of silence, he lets out a light “mm”. He carries two tea cups and walks over, sitting down on the chair opposite me.

Victor: If you want to say something, say it directly. I’m listening.

I hold my chin. Steam from the two tea cups drift towards his eyebrows. Even before I start talking, I’m already unable to suppress a smile.

MC: I kind of... admit that I’m a dummy.

Victor: ...

Victor lets out a laugh. I seldom hear such bright laughter from him.

I’m unsure if he’s laughing at my display of self-awareness, or because he’s happy that I complimented him. After a pause, he lets out a light sigh.

Victor: What nonsense do you think about the entire day?

MC: It’s not ‘nonsense’, it’s...

The words are lodged at my throat halfway, and I’m unable to find an appropriate adjective even after a long time. Meeting Victor’s patient expression, I find myself at a greater loss for words.

Seeing that I’m speechless, Victor unhurriedly brings up the topic again.

Victor: MC, does Ronan make you feel like he’s out of reach?

MC: Huh?

I can’t find the main point of his words, so I simply go along with his line of thought. After thinking for a while, I shake my head.

MC: But I only just met him...

Victor: At his young age, he is already a world-renowned director. He outpaces others within the industry, and there are many people who are envious of his natural talent. He is very good in his field - even better than me.

MC: But...

Victor: Don’t you think so?

I want to refute him, but he’s actually not wrong.

In the long silence that follows, I rub my fingers against the smooth, porcelain surface of the teacup, slowly taking in the implication in his words.

I see a streak of light in the entire Milky Way.

Victor: In the future, you’ll see an even broader world, and meet even more great people. At that time, you may think that Victor is actually just an ordinary person.

MC: ...huh?

Still immersed in my thoughts, I’m unsure if I misheard.

MC: What did you just say? Victor is just an ordinary person?

In the next few seconds, I even think of the title of the next proposal - The Ordinary Victor.

Sub-title: How the legendary CEO of a huge business empire re-defines what it means to be an ordinary person.

Victor sips his tea, putting an end to the conversation

MC: Victor, do you still remember how I went to Venice to participate in a photography exhibition?

Victor: I remember. It was in September.

MC: Since young, I’ve always wanted to go to Venice because of movies and stories. So when I was booking the tickets, my whole brain was thinking about the fun things to do once I got there. But on the third day in Venice, I felt like coming back. I kept feeling that being alone overseas, so far away from you, resulted in something being missing in my happiness. It was only when the plane landed and I returned to the familiar streets that this uneasiness finally disappeared. Did you know that... when I got off the car, I smelt a strong scent of osmanthus. I dragged my suitcase looking for osmanthus trees, thinking... “I wonder if Victor knows how to bake osmanthus cakes!”

[Trivia: Osmanthus is a traditional symbol of true love and faithfulness, and is used in old wedding customs, where the bride would bring it to her new family. It also means “giving birth to noble children” 👀]

Victor lets out a laugh, relaxing his posture and leaning against the back of the chair.

Victor: Why didn’t you ask me to bake an osmanthus cake?

MC: I wanted you to see me in a different light, so I tried it myself while referring to an osmanthus cake recipe. After that... it wasn’t successful. Didn’t I make you steamed pumpkin with osmanthus? You even said it wasn’t unpalatable and that I improved!

Victor thinks for a while, as though grasping around his memory for a trivial moment. The smile which has been on his face this whole time reveals slight hesitance.

Victor: I thought you just made that dish for fun.

MC: That’s not wrong...

Victor doesn’t continue. There were many times I thought he’d definitely call me a dummy, but he didn’t.

He reaches out and interlaces our fingers together.

He holds them lightly, leaving space between his warm palm and my fingertips.

Victor: You’ve already plucked the star. Aren’t you going to hold it more tightly?

MC: Huh?

Slightly overwhelmed, I look at our interlaced fingers. Tentatively, I gather my five fingers together.

I imagine how my fingertips touch the lines on his palm. I imagine every fragment of time we spent together turning into speckles of bright light, filling up the entire world.

But Victor probably found that I was too slow.

He unfurls his five fingers, then wraps my hand tightly into his palm.

Victor: Remember - when you meet anyone, there’s no need to feel that you’re not enough. You have your own uniqueness, and it’s just as precious.

I look towards him, seeming to understand his words. I nod my head out of habit, but it’s a more serious nod than usual.

At this moment, a phone notification chime resounds in the quiet room. Victor takes up his phone and gives it a look.

Victor: Ronan says he has completed shooting today’s materials, and there aren’t any issues. We can change out of our outfits.

After she’s done changing in the bathroom, she sees the glorious sight of Victor setting the candles alight

[Trivia: On the night of traditional Chinese weddings, the newlyweds will set candles alight in front of the bed. The light of the candles are meant to symbolise a long-lasting love]

Victor: Are you done changing?

[ CHAPTER FIVE ]

While Victor changes out of his clothes, MC muses about how she can’t bear to part with the wedding attire. Ronan could only borrow it for two days, which is why Victor had to rush over

MC takes several pictures of the wedding attire on her phone from different angles

She puts on the veil, but since she can’t see properly through it, she can’t take her ideal photos

Frustrated, she’s about to throw her phone onto the sofa when someone grabs her arm

Victor: Why are you barefoot?

MC: It’s fine...

Before I finish talking, Victor lifts me up. The sudden weightlessness causes me to hurriedly wrap my arms around him.

At such a close distance, I can clearly smell the moisture on the side of his neck.

He places me onto the large bed in the room.

I reach out to remove the veil, but he stops me.

Victor: What kind of bride takes off her own veil?

I only see a patch of red in my vision. Because of this, every word entering my ears is made even clearer.

His undulating breathing and the tenderness in his dull voice enter my heart more directly than before. I find myself feeling nervous.

MC: Oh right-

Seeing me straighten up after remembering something, Victor lets out a sigh of resignation.

Victor: Aren’t you tired after a whole day of tossing about? You’re still so easily startled...

MC: I remember Ronan mentioning that his plane is leaving tomorrow too. Once he leaves, it could really be several years later till you two meet again. Do you want to change the flight to a later slot so you can send him off?

Victor: Sure.

Despite a slight pause, Victor’s answer does not contain any hesitation. His words seem to conceal a smile.

Victor: Why did you suddenly think of this?

MC: It wasn’t sudden. You’re always not saying what you mean. I was afraid you would pretend it doesn’t bother you. When it comes to important people, you have to welcome them when they arrive, and send them off when they leave. Through these interactions, the fate between you two can be sustained for longer.

Victor: Mm.

His slender and long fingers hold onto one corner of my veil. Following his movements, my vision slowly returns.

First, I see his black shirt. Then, every button on it. After that, his slightly trembling Adam’s apple, and his clean chin.

Finally, I meet his gaze, which is even deeper than the sun, moon, and stars.

MC: Victor, could you teach me how to bake an osmanthus cake when we get back? A green bean cake, jujube cake, or a peanut cake will do too.

Victor: Do you really want me to teach you, or do you just suddenly feel like eating them?

MC: Both are fine, they aren’t mutually exclusive.

Victor reaches out and gently pulls me into his arms. A familiar warmth seeps through his thin shirt. My eyes drift shut, and I press the side of my face against his scorching neck.

Actually...

To me, just the word “Victor” already holds great meaning to me.

He is the very first ray of light to appear at the beginning of the world.

He is the ray of light that appeared when God said, “let there be light.”

I grasp his hand tightly. I hold it very, very tightly. As though I will never let go.

At 3pm the next day, Ronan’s plane takes flight.

His next stop is Southeast Asia, then South Asia, then Europe, the North America...

The next time we meet, he would have explored the entire globe, taking beautiful pictures that cause people to marvel at them.

Victor: Although it was delayed by two days, the deadline for the proposal is still the same. I hope to see improvements in your third amendment by this Friday.

MC: ...

Goldman: CEO!

Goldman and Wei Wei are at the airport to fetch them

Wei Wei looks really anxious 👀

MC asks what Wei Wei is doing here, and the latter responds that there are urgent documents requiring MC’s signature

But MC remembers Anna mentioning that those documents aren’t urgent 👀

Wei Wei drops her pen accidentally, and her pearl bracelet suddenly snaps while she tries to pick it up

The pearls roll onto the ground

Before MC can step in to help, Goldman uses his file to stop the pearls from rolling away even further 👀

Wei Wei’s cheeks are red, and she stares at Goldman with a look of anticipation in her eyes.

MC: I see...

It turns out that the sky every person looks towards is different.

Encounters with people are short-lived. The stars in the universe have their own tracks, so if you lift your head and find an exceptionally bright star--

Pick up your feet and chase after him.

Don’t sleep, don’t rest, and keep running forward!

Till you can hold onto his hand, and drink a cup of bitterness and sweetness - the hundred flavours of life - together with him.

Victor, who is walking in front, stops and turns his head to look at me.

Victor: Why are you just standing there looking silly? They’re catching up soon.

I can’t help but laugh. Our gazes meet.

Perhaps the smile on my face looks silly. Victor lets out a soft sigh, turning his body towards me halfway, as though waiting for me.

I no longer hesitate, taking large strides in Victor’s direction-

And running forward!

🍒 Cheri’s thoughts 🍒

That was a somewhat awkward ending LOL

The Goldman x Wei Wei ship... T^T

Reading Victor’s Colours of Rain Date after this is highly recommended. It makes reference to this date, and also shows the other extreme - what happens if you keep pushing yourself and maintaining a strong front

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #SO CUTE #SO ROMANTIC

268 notes · View notes

scoundrels-in-love · 3 years

Text

Almost 300 years a week later, here are some of my thoughts on Dan Ah and her actions through ep 11 and 12. I will try not to repeat too much of the points I made here, or elsewhere in my rambles, but if it happens, it happens. + I won’t operate on mindset that you’ve read it.

First, I think her saying ‘apologies are meaningless, I can’t take back things I said, only make up for it’ is incredibly telling of her as person and the kind of environment she grew up in - the high society and family where apologies are dished out hollowly and never followed through with intention of changing something for the better or your behavior. Time and how you spend it is very important to her. She even says as much in her confession and I think it only outlines how much her time is the one thing she tries to have control of, and exert it (over herself as well). Considering the concept of possibly terminal illness that she suffers from, it makes sense. She doesn’t have time to be patient, no one will wait for her, including her own health. Yeong Hwa is the one immovable object that forces her to slow down and readjust her whole approach to life and it’s been... Not comfortable, necessarily, but it’s been functional, so she struggles to redefine it, especially without real example.

Second, there’s lot of parallels to be drawn between her and Mi Joo. And I ended up writing this all backwards, so I am not sure if I’ll manage to include it, but in some ways, Mi Joo’s line about ‘I value myself more than anyone else’ both in the sense that she’s the most important to herself and that no one else values her truly highly is very reminiscent of Dan Ah’s attitude and the way she admitted she isn’t in control of her life entirely o Mi Joo.

And there’s. of course, that moment when Mi Joo responded sarcastically to Seun Gyeom, later to apologize for it, which he took in a stride (much as he had said that he had never felt Dan Ah walked over him unjustly), because he does understand where they come from and how they work, on a certain level (even if he underestimated just how his father would strike and manage to hurt Mi Joo). I think Dan Ah isn’t at place where she cay say that yet, but I do believe sentiment is within her.

If someone asked what motivates Dan Ah, her answer could be similar to Mi Joo’s - fear and obsession, rather than Seun Gyeom’s regret. Fear of being controlled, of being weak and sick, obsession of having and exerting certain power and keeping yourself safe. Now, this point altogether is purely speculation on my part, of course, but that’s my read on the character, but also her anxiety has been mentioned several times and anxiety is basically that - fear, especially of things going wrong/being out of control, if we wish to trivialize it.

And although Dan Ah merely adds that whatever she had, got taken away from her, she basically used same method as Mi Joo - set her goals and opted for the best ‘fake’ that she could get, in this case her company, rather than being football player or the gallery. Both, in the same way, would rather put up walls to not lose what little they have but the men in their lives just... Bypassed them.

It’s interesting to note that similarly as Mi Joo is currently trying to sort ouf what is real and to go for, instead of relying on having a ‘fake’, so does Dan Ah - it’s likely she is planning to expose the illegitimate status of both her brothers to gain what is technically rightfully hers (hence asking her younger brother to side with her even when it will not be comfortable for him).

Third, I think the way she’s seeking out Mi Joo and her opinion is very interesting. And it does loop back to Yeong Hwa as well!

From the very start, we see that Dan Ah actually cares to listen to other people to an extent (she asks her secretary what she did wrong to upset Seun Gyeom, even if she ends the conversation how much simpler it’d be if all of us thought were similar, which is strongly undermined by all of her interactions with Mi Joo and even Yeong Hwa essentially). She is interested in experiencing being opposed and challenged in a way that is not downright demeaning as she does in her family. She finds their view on world interesting, if somewhat incomprehensible, and listens to it, processes it inwardly, even if her initial reaction might be defensive. (Also, it shows from start she’s willing to admit she doesn’t have all answers, same as she does with Yeong Hwa telling him that she doesn’t know what answer he wants - as she would need to know in business deal which is what most of her world consists of.)

But in some ways, I also think she is interested in what Seun Gyeom and Mi Joo have created and how. She basically instantly could tell Seun Gyeom is interested in Mi Joo which is implied as rare occurrence (or perhaps even the only time since she says she’s the last woman he liked and he debunks the theory), she asks several times what Mi Joo sees in Seun Gyeom that makes her so protective of him (which I think is both a way to see how deeply Mi Joo cares for him and to see more of Seun Gyeom). But also in some way, although it is her own act to let Seun Gyeom, she “loses” him to his own path and Mi Joo both. Because I do think she cares for him as a friend, perhaps only one she has.

Although she puts Seun Gyeom’s picture by the trash, it’s actually not taken out for several days and it’s definitely not because the secretary or the cleaner are neglecting their duties. Rather, same way as he didn’t throw away the honey but handed it back to Yeong Hwa, the secretary is aware she’s not really emotionally throwing him away. Because once she likes something, she never really stops, as per her own admission.

So there’s this certain feeling of loss that she can’t quite admit to herself and want to know both what Mi Joo saw and supported in Seun Gyeom and how and a yearning for something similar, because this is basically the first friendship/not work based relationship of the kind that she sees. (The same way she marvels is this how full-blood siblings are supposed to be when Eun Bi is upset about Seun Gyeom’s picture and how she defends her brother and then, Dan Ah actually ‘tattles’ on her so he can protect her, which can be covered up with excuse it was over the schedule, but was it really?)

In fact, she seems to be somewhat envious of relationship her brother has with her secretary, saying he still cares for her brother more and also the way she wanted to be included in the whole cat talk. She is upset when he doesn’t say he’s her person, but employed by the company, she protects him the way she knows how to (regarding revenge kick) and generally cares for him. She just wants someone truly and personally on her side, even though she probably has a hard time admitting it to herself which results in these odd and halfway there and nowhere attempts, especially paired with the fact she doesn’t really know how to establish not-work-related connection on a deeper level.

I will add point fourth here, although it’s still technically third. It’s safer, far more practical and logical to stay detached. But the heart wants what it wants and it’s friendship, connection, being liked for who she is and being challenged but not seen as lesser, with someone who won’t smile because she’s his boss, although that sort of control is precious and hard fought to be had in part of her life.

Caring for something or someone is relinquishing this control, basically inviting the same result Seun Gyeom got taste of at ep of 12, the result she already experienced with her dreams of being football player crushed. Except if it involves another person, it increases the chances of being hurt by them exponentially. And it’s also worth considering that if her relationship with mother was close, she’s also already experienced abandonment and grief of losing someone dear and close. (Which, of the leads, only Mi Joo knows and even then it’s more the absence of reflection what other people around her have which hurts, but in a different way, as per my experience.)

Concept of Mi Joo’s friendship, and Yeong Hwa as a whole, become very images of these unsaid wish fulfillment because they’re not trying to be.

They’re themselves, argumentative and challenging, and teasing, despite her being ‘above them’ in power hierarchy, leveling the field by merely ignoring it, and, initially, she doesn’t even try to get Yeong Hwa sign a contract, it’s only when her own yearning for his work (and for him), and him denying her any of it becomes a problem that she ‘admits’ it was her own fault for not drawing the sort of lines she’s used to with everyone else, and even then she’s not really thrilled about him agreeing to it, because it’s not really what she wants from him, although it’s what would be the safest and make the most actual sense within her world.

Even then, as her employee, he refuses to follow her orders and tells her plainly - if she wants something, she is to be vulnerable and invest herself into it (she actually tries, by smiling because he had said it was cute) and she has to admit to herself and to him, that he has grown onto her, not as a ‘vending machine’ or ‘employee’, but person whose opinion and feelings toward her are very important to her.

Also, it’s very telling how she tells him she belongs to herself, of course, and that he, too, can still belong to himself. She wants him as individual separate from herself, but the thought that he is firmly on her side obviously makes her very happy. In some ways, it’s also upgrade from ‘my person’ claim she makes toward her secretary, a learning curve.

Fifth, I suppose. While I rewatched some scenes to make sure I wasn’t actually misremembering, I started to think of another motif that repeats through her conversations.

Dan Ah repeatedly tells him not to have expectations, sentiments, disappointments toward her. From one side, it’s to draw a clear line of employee/employer and view each other in a detached way (that she tries again and again herself, but fails to), but from other, is it that simple?

She is almost crying when she asks him if he’s really stopped liking her and from preview, we learn that no one has asked her out before, seemingly? Probably because she was too much of a boss ass bitch, but still possibly left with a certain sense of inadequacy and that ‘when I am being apologetically me and I will always be that, I am not likeable although I do not entirely understand why’, as per her wondering why people always think she’s mean when by most of her society’s standards, she is rather thoughtful.

Her want of gallery has been brought up several times, her older half brother often says her pick of artist will never be good enough, her father still sees her as a tool to marry off. She as person with her goals and dreams and what she has achieved, just isn’t good enough for people around her at large.

The moment he cares for her, the moment she inherently becomes capable of disappointing him. The moment she cares for him, the moment she becomes capable of disappointing him. And that thought, of doing that and not enough to Yeong Hwa who has sneakily smiled his way into her heart, the growing awareness she truly doesn’t know how to be in some aspects, is overwhelming and painful and she tries to shut the door to it.

Also, he tells her he likes her no matter what he does, but he hates it, which I imagine is double the punch and she tries to find a solution that would make him happy and stop hating it - the perfect answer, as she would in a business deal, but she can’t, until she commits to the truly mortifying ordeal of being known (as suggested by Mi Joo).

Sixth, I really liked that she (or the narrative) didn’t make fun of Yeong Hwa crying. In fact, she’s eyerolled about her younger brother’s temper, but not really in the present made fun of him for apparently being a ‘crybaby’ in the past. I think that in a sense shows her actual streak of empathy and maybe the fact that she’s familiar with need to cry herself and doesn’t find it ‘weak’ as most ‘tougher’ characters would. Also perhaps that she cares for her younger brother more than she has admitted to herself, similarly as she kept denying she cared for Yeong Hwa and went rather far to hurt him.

#run on #jtbc run on #kdrama #rainy watches kdrama #it's only midnight and I've been writing this on and off for two hours...#and it's 1 of 4 rambles #and I don't even know if it makes sense

34 notes · View notes

bravenot · 3 years

Note

widobrave + forehead kisses if you feel inclined? 💕

anonymous said: Hello! If you are still taking the prompts for writing I would love to see a widobrave fic from Caleb’s perspective! There are not enough from his point of view out there. Maybe pining? Or jealous? 👀 sorry I’m not very specific

thanks for the requests anon and @luteana 💌! hope this is ok

Caleb breathes in, and the air tastes humid: sweet and sharp with the scent of rotting seaweed. They are standing in an alleyway next to what looks like a quaint little restaurant, ivy climbing the side of the building and colourful bunting strung above them.

Veth opens one eye at a time and looks around in wonder.

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Caleb turns to look over his shoulder, and there are the docks; a grounded boat is being loaded with fishing tackle, the people on board too busy to notice the two of them watching.

“Well, it is Nicodranas at least,”

“Thank god,” Veth begins to take off her jacket, and pauses. “oh shit.”

“What?”

“I didn’t ask Jester to message my-” she sighs, turning away. “it’s fine.”

Caleb can already feel his sweat beading from the heat. He rolls up his sleeves while Veth leads the way to the cafe entrance, a door in the side of what used to be an upturned boat. It swings inwards and they both peer into a smallish courtyard with garden furniture, a potted tree, lanterns, and strips of fabric hanging from the canopy. Nobody seems to be around.

“I’m sure they won’t mind a surprise visit.” Caleb says as she leans around the door.

“What? Oh.” Veth looks troubled. “No, of course they won’t, I just - what if Yeza’s busy?”

He scoffs. “Too busy to see you?”

“I don’t know, what if he has plans with someone or,” she mumbles, and Caleb just blinks at her. “all right, you know what I mean.”

The sign hanging above them reads ‘The Crab & Oyster’. They stand at the doorway for a moment longer before moving to a more bustling street, where Caleb asks a couple of strangers for directions to the Opal Archways. It’s a relief to feel safe in this city again, and be able to breathe away from the group, too - Veth has been looking for a chance to visit for weeks. Still, as soon as they’re walking, the space between them feels dense with things they can’t quite say.

“You know I’ve never thought to ask. Is Yeza older or younger than yourself?”

She squints for a minute. “I think younger, his birthday’s later than mine. We were the same year in school,”

“Mm,”

“Though, you know, in Felderwin all the school years were kind of smushed together, so it didn’t really matter as much.”

“I remember mine being like that.”

“Oh of course, you were a small town kid too.”

There’s a warmth in the way she says that which makes Caleb’s chest feel full and strange. He suddenly wishes they had more time, wishes the route to Yeza’s apartment were longer. He should be happy he’s leading her to her husband, not to somewhere quiet and sunny, some sheltered beach where the two of them can sit and talk for hours about things that don’t matter.

He clears his throat. “You looking forward to seeing your boy?”

“Of course.” She says. “I don’t know, it feels like every time I see him he’s changed. I don’t know what to expect,”

“That’s ok.” Caleb says gently. “He’ll be happy to see you, that’s the main thing.”

“Yeah.”

He imagines Luc running into her arms, the look of aching happiness on Veth’s face when he tells a story or calls her Mom, and his heart is light again. All he wants is to be there to see it.

A clocktower tolls six, a flurry of gulls taking flight and screeching at the sound.

Somebody running the other way accidentally checks Veth’s shoulder. It’s that, along with the street growing busier, that makes the wizard reach down and offer her his hand. She hooks two fingers into it and hurries forward a step to take it fully. They’re walking uphill now, against the flow of a scattered crowd that might be coming from the market. Caleb keeps his eyes forward, on this or that temple, this awning or that store’s sign scrawled on a blackboard in white paint, and all he knows of Veth is the soft, cool feeling of her palm in his. Steady. By his side.

The apartment comes into view and Caleb can’t help a glance down at her: hair dishevelled but glowing in a light dress with flowers embroidered along the hems. She’s smiling, but clearly more out of nerves than anything else. Unconsciously he begins stroking his thumb on the back of her hand.

Neither one is sure who slows down first, but it happens, and they come to a stop in the shade of an olive tree. No need to walk her to the door.

“Where are you staying tonight Cay?”

“Well, I don’t know, I cannot go back to Rexentruum. I was thinking at an inn somewhere for a few days.” He pauses. “Maybe - I don’t know, if you’d like to - to meet up tomorrow,”

“Of course!”

“Lavish Chateau, for lunch?”

“Yes, let’s do it. I would offer for you to stay at ours but I don’t - I dunno if there’s space,” She trails off, and Caleb looks doubtful.

“I don’t want to intrude on your family.”

Veth looks like she’s about to argue, but nods once. “All right. I’ll um, say hello to Luc for you,”

“Mhm.”

Veth turns and pulls him towards the low stone wall next to them, raising herself up onto it effortlessly. With a jolt he realises that, since he took it half an hour ago, she hasn’t let go of his hand once. Her arms are bare, her neck proudly adorned with strings of buttons, tiny shells and pieces of blue-green seaglass.

She brings both of his hands between hers and squeezes tight.

“Thank you for this.” She beams, and the joy in her expression seeps into his own. “Um,”

There’s a stiff pause, but he doesn’t have time to think of a response, because Veth stands on her tiptoes and plants a kiss right between his eyes. She pulls back and takes a breath, her chest puffed out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Caleb whispers.

Veth nods in reply, her face dark. Then she scurries off: not quite running, but too fast to be casual.

Once she’s gone, he utterly forgets what to do with himself.

It doesn’t feel right to stay at the Chateau - he wouldn’t want to sleep there without greeting Jester’s mother, and if he did, Marion might feel obligated to give him a free room, which he hasn’t earned in the slightest. So he retraces his steps back down to the Skew, and finds an unremarkable tavern close to their teleport spot.

The view over the harbour is a splendid midnight blue. He draws the curtain, strips naked, tries to read, begins to think about what the nein might be doing in Rexentruum and quickly gives up reading.

He thinks of Veth’s soft lips on his forehead: how his nose had bumped her chin, how close her breasts were as he shut his eyes in shock. Thinks of what she might be doing right now. He watches the candle burn down a little more.

After an hour of restlessness, the bedsheets in disarray and his face red, he eventually dozes off, his head full of that little cafe with the brightly-coloured bunting.

#my writing #widobrave #luteana

16 notes · View notes

akindofmagictoo · 3 years

Text

manuscript search tag game

@sleepyowlwrites I love how you just know I will do ALL THE WORDS lol

said words are sleepy, expression, friendship, promptly, kids, protest, delight(ed, ful), warning, abandon, instinct

sleepy (Dragonsong)

Holly concentrated firmly on packing up her kit, not looking up to meet anyone’s eyes. Her dark hair fell over her face, hiding it partially from view.

Sierra didn’t notice, or didn’t mind. She leaned over from the log she’d found to sit on and nudged Robin’s shoulder. “Hey, sleepy. Food’s here.”

“Mmf?” mumbled Robin, and rolled over. His eyes opened. He blinked a few times. “Oh. Hi.”

expression (Dragonsong)

“Can we talk? Over there?” said Isi, gesturing to the tree line.

SB grumbled, but followed her.

Isi kept her expression polite, but folded her arms. “Here’s the thing. If you want to travel alone, you’re entirely free to leave. I won’t stop you. But if you want to travel with us, you had better act like it. And you had better work with us. Do you understand?”

friendship friends (Hurricane)

“Sail to starboard!” Sequoia leant out of the crow’s nest.

Tempest shouted, “What sort? Friend or foe?”

Sequoia frowned. “Pirates, I think. They’re flying the Jolly Roger.”

Perched near the helm, Aella twisted to look over her shoulder.

“I’d hope friends,” said Tempest. “But keep an eye on them, just in case.”

Aella glanced at Tempest. “Could be Anvindr’s friends.”

Tempest sighed and nudged the wheel a fraction to port. “Exactly.”

promptly (Hurricane)

“If you want, but later. I’d like my arm free, just in case.” She rotated her bandaged shoulder in a few different directions. Apparently satisfied with its range of movement, she tapped her sword hilt with her now-free hand. “You never know. We might not be too popular.”

They made it about two minutes into the town before they were promptly arrested.

kids (Dragonsong)

One of the kids held the ball out to Robin, then snatched it away when he reached for it. The group’s giggles carried even over to Isi. Even Robin’s. Isi wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him so relaxed; so permitted to be childlike for once. She hadn’t known him as a child, but seven seemed quite young to join the knight system. Between five and ten was typical, yes, but it seemed awfully young all of a sudden. There was not much childhood one could have before that. Nine years hadn’t been all that much, and Isi was someone who had worked well with the structure of being a trainee knight.

protest (Dragonsong)

Enya spat fire again, and the wolf cowered, pawing at its snout. And as it did so, it turned its unprotected ribs to Isi. She drove her sword in, disregarding the ache in her arm. The blade scraped bone, and her shoulder screamed in protest, but she leant on the hilt until she was sure the wolf was dead.

delight (Dragonsong)

A man whom, when he turned, she recognised. Brendon.

She sighed, readied her sword and called his name.

“Should’ve known I’d find you here,” he sneered. “Getting in my way, as usual.”

Isi said nothing as he approached her, armour clanking with each step.

“And you’re not a knight anymore, are you?” He slapped the royal symbol on his chest. “You look like you want to tell me off. But you can’t tell me what to do now, Isi.” He seemed to take great delight in not attaching her former title.

“I may not be a knight anymore, Tor Brendon,” she said. “But I don’t need a title to know that what you’re doing here is wrong.”

warning (Hurricane) (apologies for the angst, and trigger warning for shooting/guns)

Theo didn’t move, but his chin tilted very slightly upwards. A gun cocked with a soft click. Aella’s blood ran cold. She grabbed the back of Theo’s coat like she could pull him aside. She wouldn’t just go with them willingly, of course she wouldn’t, but she couldn’t let Theo be in the line of fire like this. She’d said they’d take him home. She’d promised him. It wasn’t fair—

A crack echoed through the trees. She let go with a shriek. Her ears rang.

But nothing happened. No one moved. Aella took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Obviously it had only been a warning shot, so everyone was alright, and it wasn’t like she’d seen which direction the bullet had gone, of course it was just—

Theo staggered and collapsed.

abandon (Hurricane)

Sequoia shouted, “Back water! Back water!”

It snapped Tempest out of her distraction. What? Belowdecks, Marisa took up the call too.

“Tempest!” shouted Cai.

Then she saw it: ahead of them, a large tree had been felled, blocking the entire strait. Heart in her throat, she added her voice to Cai’s. “Back water and drop anchor! Do it now!”

Cai was already disentangling the anchor cable. Emmy and Victoire abandoned the sails to help Cai heave the anchor over the rail. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, the Firebird came to a halt. Not a moment too soon. Her phoenix figurehead bobbed against the tree trunk.

instinct (Dragonsong)

This was what she’d hoped for, but a dragon hidden by a barrier… that didn’t seem right. Isi frowned. What was going on?

The rock—no, the dragon—moved all of a sudden. The ground rumbled. Robin took a step back; Isi grabbed his shoulder to steady him. Her instincts said draw your sword, but she fought that down as the dragon uncurled itself to its full height. Even its front leg was taller than Isi. If it turned out to be unfriendly, they would be in trouble, sword or no sword. But perhaps it was friendly. In that case, she’d need no sword.

Surely, when this dragon saw Enya, it would know they were friends. Holding a sword would only complicate things.

I will tag ... @ardawyn @zmlorenz @ellatholmes and @vellichor-virgo! your words are sense, sugar, squint, sun

#tag game #manuscript search tag #wip dragonsong #dragonsong excerpt #wip hurricane #hurricane excerpt #searching circle #long post

8 notes · View notes

faintingheroine · 3 years

Note

do you have any favorite Wuthering Heights illustrations? it's odd that i rarely find illustrations i really like.

I have listed some of my favorites here.

I would add the ones by Rosalind Whitman (here and here) to my favorites as well (though they weren’t really illustrations in an edition, they could easily be), since I didn’t mention them in the above post. I love how they are reminiscent of Medieval art. I like how she essentially made a definitive illustration for nearly all chapters of the first half of the book. I don’t like some of the later ones portraying Heathcliff’s death and I don’t like how she didn’t draw the second generation, but I do like the general aesthetic. I like all the ones from the first post, and I like all the ones except the last two from the second post. But if I have to choose a favorite one from her it would be the one depicting the bulldog attack at Grange. Her style isn’t all that pleasant looking perhaps, the scenes are chaotic and one might tire of looking at them, but I loved the idea of her using a style reminiscent of Medieval art.

In general I really don’t care for the excessively pretty illustrations of Wuthering Heights. I don’t care for the ones by Rovina Cai or Felix Abel Klaer for instance. I tend to prefer ones who are a bit more grotesque or uncanny, though I also like some of the older cozy ones like the ones by C. E. Brock.

#wuthering heights #illustration #rosalind whitman

4 notes · View notes

salamanderskin · 4 years

Text

For the anon who wanted Caduceus + Sniffles

Thanks for ask, fellow Caduceus fan. This is brought to you by my obsession with Cad saying ‘uh-oh’ before he sneezes, Team Cleric and found family taking care of each other.

The kitchen in the Xhorhaus is bright and warm, populated by one familiar firbolg who is tackling the enormous pile of dirty dishes. Caleb had only meant to grab a glass of water before returning to his books but it is impossible not to pause when Caduceus calls out, "Hey Caleb, there's tea and cookies on the table."

No matter how long he lives with his friends, Caleb will never, ever get used to this. It always makes him warm inside as he takes one and sits at the long wooden table, reading forgotten for now. "Did you make these?" "No, Jester did." "And you are cleaning up after her because-?" Caduceus just shrugs and is soon up both elbows in washing-up.It's very calm in the kitchen, though not quiet. The part of Caleb's mind that is always alert tracks the slight sounds of sloshing water, dishes in the sink, creaks on the floowboards above and soft sniffles from Caduceus every few minutes.

-snf snf-- as Caduceus carries a stack of pots over from the stove.

A more insistent -snfSNF- followed by the clatter of pans put down quickly and-

His first panicked thought is that Caduceus might be crying. He hears the chaotic gasps of breath, sees his broad hands reaching to hide his face

."heh… heh-- 'chsshoo! 'scuse me." Ah, it was only a sharp little sneeze, half-smothered into the cup of Caduceus' hands.

"Gesundheit."

"Thank you." The firbolg runs the back of his wrist under his muzzle and sniffles again before returning the washing up.Caleb is paying closer attention now. It is a little comical, the way Caduceus can't itch at his nose because both his hands are soaked with soapy water, forcing him to scrunch up his muzzle and sniffle. His progress is hindered by sudden, flinching sneezes which he tries his best to direct away from the sink.

"Uh oh… uhhCHshhhoo!- CHsshoo!"

Despite his efforts, soap suds drift into the air. Those plus the steaming water can't be helping at all, Caleb thinks.

The third time it happens, Caduceus actually has to stop what he's doing, dry his hands on a tea towel and pinch under his nose under the sneezing stops. He looks so uncharacteristically frustrated that Caleb comes over to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, just…" Caduceus scrubs at his nose again, "sniffles."

"So I hear." "I'm sorry, it must be very annoying."

"Worse for you, I think- gesundheit!"- Caleb finishes as Caduceus sneezes another sharp IIiSshhoo! that rocks him back on his heels.

"If you keep this up I will set Jester on you."

"Hah." Caduceus laughs. "I'm sure there's no need. I'm gonna go grab a hankie and take a tea break and I'll be good to go."

"I'll hold you to that." Caleb affirms and takes the rest of his tea back to the study where he can drink it in peace.

. ……….

They share dinner that evening. Caduceus is really getting the hang of cooking the unfamiliar foods available in Rosohna and most of it is quite delicious, though perhaps heavier on mushrooms and lighter on rats than the rest of the party might prefer. After the meal Caleb looks to his friend to offer thanks and finds him looking distinctly worse for wear. Caduceus clears the plates away as if on autopilot, his eyes looking somewhere else. When the human taps him on the shoulder, Caduceus starts in surprise.

"Oh, sorry, I was somewhere else." His voice sounds soft and hoarse, punctuated by a few rogue sniffles. Caleb is no cleric but even he can see that Caduceus looks tired and unwell. He raises an eyebrow.

"You look done in. Sit down, someone else can do the dishes. Possibly Jester"

"Did someone say my name?!"

As if summoned, everyone's favourite blue tiefling appears out of nowhere to lean against the counter.

"Ah, I was just suggesting that you could do the washing up."

Jester huffs and rolls her eyes theatrically but grabs her apron nonetheless. "We really, really need to get some servants or something. I shouldn't be expected to- oh, what's the matter with Caduceus?"

"I'm fine." Jester shares a glance with Caleb as Caduceus chooses that moment to double over and sneeze "heh-- 'chsshoo!" into his elbow as discreetly as he can manage.

"Come here. Let me look at you."

"Just a -snf- just a s-seh-cond-" His voice cracks. "hah-chIISShoo! Oh dear."

"Bless you. Now come here."

Caduceus casts a wary glance at Caleb who pats him firmly on the back.

"I'm not letting you escape this one, my friend. Let her do her job for once."

"Yeah, let me--- hey! Cay-leb!" Jester's cheeks colour in outrage at the gentle jab. "I'm a very good healer, actually. It's not my fault that normally Caduceus gets in there before I get a chance. You just watch."

It's a little comical: Jester rising to her tiptoes to try and examine a seven foot tall firbolg who does not look at all convinced, until he concedes and kneels to let her examine his features at her own level. He actually blushes a little, which only draws more attention to how red and sore his nose looks.

"Aw, your ears are all pressed back against your head. Like a sad puppy." Jester mourns.

"They do that." Caduceus sniffles. "Say aaah." Caduceus duly opens his mouth and gives them both a good look at his tonsils. Jester's hands wander to the side of his neck, feeling his temperature and probing for sore glands. "How do you feel?"

"Nothing serious. Tired. Throat's a little sore. Runny nose."

"Aww." Jester coos and presses a kiss to the crown of his head, into the soft pink hair. "You're sick for sure."

"Is that your diagnosis, High Priestess Cleric?" Caleb laughs. "What about treatment?" She sighs. "Well, I didn't actually prepare any restoration spells today and I'm assuming you didn't either, Caduceus, or you'd have healed yourself already?"

Caduceus nods and returns to standing, coughing to clear his throat.

"That's true, though for minor illnesses my family usually just let it run its course. It builds your immune system."

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard!" Caleb can only nod in agreement. "From what I understand, the theory is sound, but we may need you fighting fit at a moment's notice. Besides, I do not want to see you uncomfortable. None of us do."

That makes Caduceus smile even as he sniffles.

Jester nods, making her mind up. "Caduceus you should go and sit down, Caleb will do the washing up and I will make hot chocolate for you."

"I already have some tea-" He protests.

"Yes, but what you really need is hot chocolate. Cleric's orders." Jester gives him a stern look. "Do I argue with you when you're healing people?"

Before the firbolg can protest that yes, she often does, he is taken by the arm, led into the common room and pushed gently onto a sofa between Yasha and Fjord.

"Caduceus is getting sick so everyone has to be really nice to him, okay?" Jester announces to the room at large. Beau laughs from her place beside the fire.

"Aahh, I was considering beating him up, but it can wait."

"I wasn't planning on being anything else?" Fjord says a beat later, bemused.

"I will return with hot chocolate for everyone. It's medicinaaaal," Jester sings as she disappears back to the kitchen, leaving the rest of the Mighty Nein blinking in surprise and Caduceus looking embarrassed but pleased.

"Are you really sick, 'Deucey?" Veth asks cautiously.

Caduceus can only sigh and nod. The cracked edge to his voice speaks for itself so he just adds, "Just a little sniffly. Jester is determined to take very good care of me and it's in everyone's best interest to do what she wants."

"That sounds wise." Veth nods. "And hey, hot chocolate! I'm gonna put booze in mine!"

"Can I put some in mine too?" Yasha pipes up.

This devolves into a heated discussion about whether whiskey or rum would be a better choice. Caduceus lets it wash over him and leans back onto the sofa. He does feel tired now, the joint aching tiredness that comes with a cold. His throat feels sore and hot, his sinuses full and itchy but he is too comfortable to reach for a handkerchief just at this moment.

He can feel the half-orc's body heat and is grateful for it. Without thinking leans until he rests against Fjord's shoulder, his long hair sweeping over them both like a veil. A shiver runs through him and Fjord responds by tucking an arm around him. It's really, really nice.

He has to ruin the moment by wrenching upright to sneeze away from his friends and over his lap.

"huhhKShh!- KKShh!- ehhKSshoo!"Ugh, he can't stop and the others paused in their conversation to stare at him. "Heh- s'cuse mbe- KKHssshhoo!" He is vaguely aware of Fjord rubbing his back as he sneezes a few more times. "Ugh. Sorry," he excuses himself and flops back into the sofa with a groan.

Fjord is still looking at him fondly, unphased. "Can I say Wildmother bless you? Is that a thing?"

"I guess so. Thadk you, Fjord."

At that moment Jester and Caleb reenter the living room carrying trays of steaming mugs. Jester looks positively joyful as she takes in the crackling fire, her friends gathered round and her patient resting on the sofa. Even Caleb looks somewhat at peace. Frumpkin is around his shoulders, purring. "This is nice, isn't it guys?" Jester says for all of them.

"It really is." Caduceus says, and means it. He'd put up with a lot of sniffles for this.

#salamanderskin's fic #sneeze kink

29 notes · View notes

chainofbeing · 4 years

Link

Having been sent by the explosion created by Ovig Nadal to a strange land, Adam comes across an old friend and learns of a dangerous new enemy

Might-Upon-Serentity: Frances Gillard

The Scales of Nemesis: Mary-Anne Stanek

Adam Delta 5, Writing, Sound design: Cai Gwilym Pritchard

email us at [email protected]

follow the podcast on twitter

Subscribe to the patreon for exclusive content and rewards!

The possessed body of Ghost-of-Sunken-Dawn explodes in a flash of polychromatic light, instantly filling the room with dust and chunks of the facility. Eikal and Inspiration are vapourized and I am sent flying backwards towards the back wall of the detainment building and then, when I subconsciously expect to land against, or crash through the wall, I continue to fall. Still surrounded by streaks of multicoloured energy and dust, I begin to sail through the air falling for a few seconds before I land in a large, algae filled pond. The water is shallow and does little to cushion my fall and so I am heavily winded, I drag myself to the edge of the pond, bombarded by falling chunks of concrete and construction plastic and I lay there sprawled out, trying my best to catch my breath. I look above me and see a cloud of dust in the sky, slowly sinking downwards to the surface. The two suns beat down above me, the stagnant pond water soaking my thick coat already starting to evaporate. My visu-link is offline and so I remove it from my eye and toss it away. The floor around me is not covered in grass or mounds of black soil but is instead carpeted in a complex net of small vines which sprawl outwards. It grows so thick that I can't see the soil beneath it. I roll over and sit up, my body from my torso down still submerged in the pond. The gravity here is much stronger than that of Dhāra jamīna which makes it much harder to move and the sudden change accentuates the pain in my joints. There’s a sharp pain on my back on the left side when I breathe as well as a constant dull ache. I reach for my spear and find it no longer there, frantically I begin to search, getting up from my half submerged resting place I see the wide, flat horizon interrupted in the far distance by huge mesas, and equally large sloping hills. Occasionally a bank will rise out of the terrain or what I assume to be a fallen tree, covered in vines and moss protruding outwards. I begin to search for my weapon when very suddenly the spear lands and lodges itself in the ground where I was just sitting. I stare at it, the blade sunken into the marshy stinking mud at the edge of the pool of stagnant water. I return it to my side and pick a direction.

[the sounds of a swamp, insects, some animals makes noises, but overall it is quite peaceful]

The march is slow, so as not to strain my very obviously broken ribs, the two suns reach the apex in the sky and the heat forces the limited oxygen from the air out of my chest and singes my nostrils when I try to drag it back in, my sleeves are rolled up and my winter coat is tied around my waist but the scorching heat continues to relentlessly beat down on me. As I get closer to what I previously thought was a dead tree, overgrown with moss and vines, turned out to be an old starship, a very old starship sunken downward into the mud, the engines pointing up to the sky. The thing had basically been gutted, wiring, panels everything except for the frame and outer shell had been stripped clean, clearly the work of some very dedicated scavengers, which meant there were people here and the fact that whoever did this decided not to just live in it meant that they took their scrap somewhere. Somewhere I intend to find.

This planet is littered with wrecks, some are small fighters like Ehedydd, others are huge, not supercruiser huge but a few haulers here and there. All of them stripped clean. I guess for whoever lives here this is the only source of materials and supplies. I continue to walk, I don't stop for a break once in what I estimate to have been a 36 hour journey in the baking heat. The two suns mercifully begin to set and the moonless night falls on the swamp. In the darkness, it’s hard to see, however I eventually make it to a long, thin, luxury yacht. It lays on its side. The left wing pointing straight up and so I have to scramble up to enter the dead ship. The pain in my side is too great for me to be able to focus on not focusing, and just fall asleep so instead I just lay back on a window and close my eyes. Throughout the night I hear strange wailing and moaning coming from outside, the whole night seems to come to life as what I can only assume is a horde of many different creatures perform their nightly routine. Through it all though I can faintly hear the sound of what must be a voice. I pull myself up and out of the side door on top of my shelter, wincing as I roll up and onto the mossy carpet that spills across the fallen ship and jerkily push myself up into a crouching position. I draw my spear, leaving it unextended. For now. There’s a culture Veatorians name their weapons, every single knife, bow, or firearm gets given a name. The idea being that you’ll take care of it better, there's some deep philosophy behind it that I can't properly convey. The practice later got adopted into the military as a whole later on. I might do the same, maybe it will make me feel less solitary surrounded by the shrieking night. Hunched down, I look out into the darkness and see nothing. And then, a bump into the side of the ship. Startled, I extend my spear to its full length, refraining from flicking the switch to electrify the blade, and peer over the side of the ship. In the deep night I can just just about discern a shape hugging close to the angled roof of the ship, completely still. “Hey!” I call out, but it doesn't respond. It looks like a person swaddled in heaps of dirty cloth, so much that no features can be made out.

[it mumbles, the words inaudible]

I slide down the roof of the ship and cautiously approach the figure, spear held in both hands “excuse me,” I say, still no response, I hold the spear in one hand and get closer to it, my eyes follow the fabric down to the floor and I see that behind it is one long uninterrupted stretch of cloth that sprawls outwards for what must be miles miles. I circle round, now standing close to the wall as well, I try to peer into the clump of material where I assume a face would be but see nothing, just more fabric. I go to touch it, and the instant I make contact it collapses to the ground, its journey now ending here, with me. I lift up a few rags with the tip of my spear but find nothing. I clamber up and into the ship and try my best to ignore the pain for the rest of the night.

I must have managed sleep, because instantly it’s daytime, the light peering through the vines that cover the windowless gaps in the ceiling. I go to check where the creature had been but there’s no sign of it, no depression in the ground, no mile long cloth stretching into the horizon to suggest it had gotten up and continued its journey, nothing. I march for another 14 hours before, in the distance, I spot something, not a ship, or a withering tree, in the shivering heat and from this distance it's nothing more than a white blur, but as I draw closer, I see that it is the ribcage of some long dead, long-dead beast, 20 metres in all with about 13 sets of ribs, arcing up into the sky. In between each individual rib were strung up small huts, made of scrap metal and animal skins, although from what animal they possibly could have come from is a mystery.

As I approach the town my gait becomes irregular and my head begins to pound with a heavy thud, the vines writhe and wriggle violently beneath me and I crouch down to inspect them, they move chaotically and as I stare the notice a pattern, amongst all the chaos there emerges order and regularity. I hear a woman's voice

"Hello Adam" she says

I stand, and sat at the edge of the town is a malgaric woman, she sits on the edge of a wide flat rock, the sun shines between the ribs, casting half of her shadow, she has a set of metal spheres hovering below each ear and a fan of metal shards splaying outwards from the back of her head. Half delirious from the lack of food and water after walking for what felt like 3 days in the sun I wobble slightly in place

"Might?" I ask, my voice trembling with sunstroke and uncertainty

"The one and only," she says, as I fall unconscious to the floor

[a strange ambience, muffled, stretched out, an embodiment of delirium]

Drifting in and out of consciousness I try to wake up, to move, to do anything. Instead I struggle to open my eyes, and when I do I am met with various images that would normally be strange to me but in my current state I am in no place to currently contemplate: I am picked up and carried through the settlement, the pointed ends of the ribs arcing outwards like a pale hand closing around me. Something large circles above us, winged I think. The blazing sun disappears and I’m carried inside a hut.

I finally awake and face to face with some furred multi-jawed creature, I start and knock over a cup next to me, spilling its contents over the tarpaulin floor. I glance back at the beast. Having regained my senses in panic I quickly realise it's simply the skin of a multi- jawed creature, patched together with other materials to make up the inside wall of the hut I'm in. A blue glow appears under the front flaps of the shelter.

"I'm guessing you're awake?" A voice calls from outside. I sit up and cross my legs.

"Uh-yeah,"

She opens the left flap and steps through. We look at each other and she kneels by the entrance, her legs crossed at the ankles.

"Been awhile" she says "when was the last time we saw each other?" I say nothing "it was definitely after Fréwern right? Or- sorry," she puts her fingers to her mouth in a Malgaric physical tick, typical when trying to remember something "Eden! That's what you call it right? It's been so long since I've actually had a conversation," I still say nothing. And we both sit there in silence for a moment "look at the two of us eh? The first Malgaric and the first human just- sitting here."

"One of the first," I say bitterly "or have you forgotten the rest so quickly?"

She leans back, clearly hurt. Might is one of the first Malgaric, dropped from the first mother factory; as mysterious then as it is today. The early Malgaric didn't have facial expressions, they hadn't developed articulated faces for their organic interiors until the last 100 millenia, and so the language developed around gesture and body language, as well as imperceptible (at least to everyone else) fluctuations in the light on their bodies. Her face is a passive expression: the mouth open to allow her voice to escape in muffled and to intake food and water, something else left behind by the Malgaric a long time ago. She leans forward to speak again "the horns are new, I like them,"

"Let's not do this,"

"What do you mean? I'm just saying I like your-"

"We could have gotten away with it! We had it in our grasp, we gained the knowledge! And you couldn't bear the consequences of your actions so you repented to the gods!"

"You want to talk to me about not being able to accept the consequences? You speak of it like it was a good thing! Even if we hadn't been discovered and by some miracle we weren't accused of it anyway, Eden still would have collapsed and everyone still would have been destroyed, we were never meant to have that knowledge"

"But we would have been free! We would have the understanding of things even the gods do not know and we would be free!"

"But you didn't understand did you? How could you have possibly hoped to understand?" She laughs a short bitter laugh "how naïve we were to think that we could comprehend what even the gods could not. If we hadn't been cursed and banished from Eden what do you think would have happened? You'd have died in some corner somewhere, mourning her death with a head full of knowledge that means nothing to you," it's my turn to lean back now,

"you don't want to admit it but it was all for nothing, you were selfish, you couldn't bear the thought of something being kept from you and so you sacrificed everything for it on our behalf and you have the audacity to be angry at me?" The swamp festers silently around us

"All five of us are to blame, I accept that, we all got cursed and banished, but it was you who led us," I lean forward and place my head in my hands.

"What if- we could understand?" I say looking up at her. She pauses and shifts her weight slightly

"You're talking about that thing that came out of the sun right?"

"How did you know?" She taps her forehead

"Visions, remember?"

"But I always assumed they were so vague? What was that analogy you used to use? About the bird or something?"

"Recently my visions have become… clearer. My last few have made more sense, before and after its perfect clarity, I truly understand it all. and then… it doesn't any more and I can no longer parse the information and instead it just sits there in my mind. Its like these thoughts don't belong to me, I'm just mimicking the thought process of something much more complex than myself"

"When did this all start?" I ask

"I think when this creature came through the portal,"

"Do you know what it is?"

"It's from before the beginning, or something like that, it's angry and lost. It doesn't belong" she takes a rag and mops up the spilt water off of the tarpaulin floor. "How much do you know about it?"

"I- I think I spoke to it." She pauses but doesn't look at me

"What did it say?"

"It, or he, or something, told me this story about a woman in a savannah, and some cycle in which new rules get placed on the new creations and, they simply have to create, and those that do get- kept. I’m not really doing it justice. Then he stood up, and shouted ‘I am Ovig Nadal, I have returned, rejoice For you shall soon be unbound’ after which he exploded and I ended up here, where ever that is” Might finishes cleaning up the spilled water and sits up, it’s only now I notice the short sword at her side "Adam... my visions, the change in their quality, I think I-"

[a gunshot rings out]

gunfire, we both rise to our feet “come with me," I follow her outside into the midday sunlight. The spine of whatever creature we’re standing in is buried in the earth but there’s a slight defined bump in the ground, I can tell that the creature didn’t just die of old age, some of the upper ribs are snapped as if the chest had been caved in. All around us are various species of people, dressed in religious clothing, standing outside of their homes, not looking as panicked as I would have expected. “Who are all these people?” I ask as I follow Might-upon-Serenity through the collection of shelters toward the source of the noise. “Mystics, philosophers, sorcerers, pretty much anyone who spends their time thinking instead of doing,” we pass a Veatorian woman covered in red lines tattooed all over her body, she sits cross legged outside her shelter, small rocks and dust sit suspended around her and a strong red glow shines through her blue eyelids and a few other of the town's people try to rouse her from her trance “People practice magic here then?”

“Vitamancy, thanatology, energy manipulation. Some things I can't properly explain” she says distractedly. We stop at the end of the ribs. Marching towards us from an aggressive looking four-wheeled vehicle is a trio of humans, one marches forward confidently with her rifle held to her chest while the other two stay low to the ground as they move, scanning the area for potential threats. The rifle that the masked leader carries is like none I've ever seen before. Where one would expect the firing mechanism to be there is instead a series of overlapping rings which spin around a luminescent core that emanates a bright golden light which can be seen even in the daylight, it seems as if it had been constructed, not from the debris found scattered around the planet, but from actual parts designed specifically for this purpose. The two next to her carry electrified rifles, dx-70’s if I had to guess, not new models, but certainly now old ones either. My hand goes to my spear as they draw closer and I glance over to see that Might has also placed a palm on the pommel of her short, wide sword. If neither of us were immortal it would be a pitiful match up, instead it was just meagre. They stop about 20 feet away from us. The two next to the ringleader keep their rifles raised but stand, more relaxed than before, they are dressed in light combat mould, each with a utility belt and long cape, their gloved hands resting comfortably around the handle and foregrip. Both have short, waist length capes which wrap around their throats and over their noses, concealing their faces. The leader is dressed correspondingly, but with a high collared much longer, more ornate cloak with bronze trims at the edges, similarly ornate elbow and knee pads carved in the classical acanthus pattern of intricate swirling leaves, her small pauldrons affixed to her shoulders are carved in the same way. What is most striking about her though, as she stands, her rifle illuminating her lightly decorated combat mould is her lifelike bronze mask that she wears. The billowing metal acanthus leaf pattern arcs up symmetrically and around the back of her head, forming a sort of crown. The mask is one of exceptional quality, carved to resemble a human woman, so precise I can only imagine it was based off of a real person.

“People of vestak-cry,” she calls to the town through an amplifier in her mask, her voice booms outwards. “This is a call to action, one of great import! You have until tomorrow to relinquish your supplies and weapons to us or we will be forced to take them by force. Some of the more courageous of you may be considering other possibilities, I urge you to reconsider. Such actions are careless and will only result in your demise” she pauses and despite there being no eye holes by which I could possibly tell, I feel her stare at me. For a moment I feel so small, like an insect under a magnifying glass soon to be pinned down, in another moment her gaze drifts off of me and she calls out again “any humans among you are welcome to join our ranks, everyone else…” she pauses and makes a gesture you know what to do. The sound of the swamp is the only thing that breaks the rigid silence. Might draws her sword, and points it toward the masked figure, “This town is under the protection of Might-Upon-Serenity, I don’t know who you are or what your whole deal is and honestly I don’t care. This is a town of philosophers, whatever treasures you think we hold, are intellectual and hold no value to you. Leave.” The masked woman tilts her head “Philosophers? Mystics as well I imagine. a sorcerer or two I’m sure. Interesting. You think us mere bandits? I assure you, you are quite mistaken. We are the Anthronesians, but it is of no relevance to you, a Malgaric. Just know we are much, much stronger than you, and our wrath is irresistible, in the truest sense of the word” She turns to leave and as she does, Might grabs the hilt of her sword with both of hands and charges toward The masked woman who turns, calmly raises her rifle, and pulls the trigger.

[the rifle charges up and fires, laser-like]

A beam of golden light instantly appears and closes the distance between her and might, who calls out and collapses to the ground, a large part of the side of her body missing. I rush over to Might who writhes on the floor in pain, the two unmasked Anthonesians get back in the vehicle, the leader looks at me one last time before she too enters and drives off. I open a pocket on my bandolier and take from it a small vial of an olive green powdery substance, I scoop up some water from a nearby puddle and mix the two into a viscous paste, the vial goes incredibly cold in my hand and I draw a symbol in the paste onto Mights chest and she goes limp, already I can see the wound starting to glow as the spell does its job, funnelling her lifeforce into healing her wound. She is immortal, but this would have killed anyone else, we’re very resistant, but not immune to damage. I struggle to lift her, and the Veatorian woman who was previously in a deep meditative state groggily ambles over and, with a slight and precise motion of her hands, lifts Might off of the ground, and carries her into the town. I turn from the procession and watch the vehicle disappear into the distance, obscured by the heat haze of the midday sun.

#sci-fi #scifi #podcast transcript #transcript #audiodrama #audio drama

1 note · View note

gawaincomic · 5 years

Note

How did you get into drawing? And what inspired you to come up with incredible character designs for the Arthuriana characters in the Gawain Comic? 😊

Twofold question, twofold answer :).

How I Got Into Drawing

It’s less that I got into drawing at some point, and more that I never got out of it. Pretty much all children make drawings, but for some unfathomable reason, many people just stop drawing as they grow up. I have never understood this.

How Do I Come Up with Character Designs

Euhhhh... In fact that’s a really difficult question and there is no one answer to it. It depends a lot on the character.

This comic has LOTS and LOTS of characters. The Darkest Hour is a small-scale story, but once we get to Brothers & Sisters you will see characters pop up left, right and center. The challenge is to make them all look distinguishable one from the other. I think most people who draw have a tendency to draw faces and bodies a certain way, so you easily slip into having a lot of characters who look fairly similar. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to avoid that D: ...

Two things you may depend on: I have no character sheets, and I never base a character on a real person’s face.

As to how my characters came by their looks - like I said, it really depends. I’ll separate a few in classes by way of demonstration ;-).

1) Characters based off Morgana

The first ever Arthurian character that I drew (I was 13 or 14 at the time), was Morgana. She had the same straight, black hair with a parting in the middle that she still has today. Her hair is dark because I just can’t imagine a blond Morgana, to be honest.

The second character ever that I drew was Morgause. At the time, everybody that I drew had pretty much the same face, so I gave Morgause two small braids framing her face. She has black hair because she’s Morgana’s sister and Morgana has black hair. (I know, not watertight reasoning, but that’s how it happened.)

So, because Morgana was the first, she informed the look of some other characters related to her, such as Ygraine and Arthur, who both have black hair. Oh, and Owain, her son - he has black hair as well.

Morgana has since got a quirkier face to reflect her quirky character, and Morgause is my attempt at a classic beauty (which is why she is so IMMENSELY DIFFICULT to draw).

2) Characters based off books/films

I should probably make that “A book or A film”, because I have only been able to think of two characters who came to be that way.

The first is Gawain. As a small child (until, say, age 11), my favourite knight and the only one who interested me was Sir Lancelot. Then I read T. H. White’s The Once and Future King. I was much, much too young to really understand, let alone appreciate, the book, but it did make me notice Gawain, and from then on he was my favourite. In The Once and Future King, Gawain has blue eyes and very red hair. Ever since, no Gawain can really be a Gawain to me if he doesn’t have those.

I added some of my own things - I remember it took me ages to figure out what his beard was going to look like, and he also spent quite a while with an absolutely horrible haircut (and OMG the moustache! I’d almost repressed it XD) because I wasn’t great at drawing hair. The curls are probably as recent as 2008.

I also made him short because - well he is practically perfect, with perfect hair and perfect teeth and his neatly trimmed beard and all, and I thought he needed something that would make him stand out from the other knights as a warrior. I would like to say that I thought of this myself, but I am wondering if I nicked it off Gillian Bradshaw. I honestly don’t know.

In any case, Gawain is so beautiful that I can’t draw him properly.

The second character who came from somewhere else is Cai. Somehow Disney’s version imprinted itself on my young mind as The Ultimate Kay, so I can’t draw him in any other way than as a bulky fellow with a large chin. Fortunately my memory proved a bit faulty and I am relieved to say that the hooknose he has in my version is not present in the Kay of The Sword in the Stone. Cai is the tallest of all my characters because he is called Cei Hir (Kay the Tall) in the Mabinogion. I think I also gave him a few tweaks (a cleft chin, for example) to make him physically closer to my Arthur, so that they could credibly (?) pass for brothers.

3) Characters I pretty much improvised as they needed to show up

Sometimes as I am drawing the story, a character suddenly pops up, such as Morholt, who is discovered in a cellar in Venta. Why is he there? I don’t even know! I only know that I like Morholt and I wanted to introduce him as one of Arthur’s “gang” before Gawain discovers him fighting witches in a forest. All I knew is that Morholt is Irish and has dark hair.

I improvised Lucan. He has read hair because he popped up on a page that already had plenty of dark-haired characters and I needed some variation. Now he is a redhead forevermore.

Sometimes this leads to regrets. I improvised Bedwyr like that too. I gave him very long dark hair in a distinctive hairdo, and a broken nose, and I took off pretty much his entire right arm. Much later I took the time to read the Mabinogion from A to Z and discovered that Bedwyr is described as extremely handsome. So if I could re-do him, I wouldn’t give him the broken nose... Only he’s fixed like that in my head now. As for the arm, it would really have been more practical for the poor man to have lost his hand only. As it is, I’ve given him rather a large handicap as a warrior. I seemed to remember he was “Bedivere the one-armed”, but in the Mabinogion he is “the one-handed”. Wah.

4) Characters I really thought quite a bit about

I think the best example of this is Uther. I didn’t originally intend to feature Uther in the comic at all, so he isn’t someone I gave much thought about in terms of looks until I decided to tell the story of The Darkest Hour rather than doing lots of flashbacks.

I don’t recall exactly, but I think I developed Uther and Arthur more or less side by side. One thing I knew is that I didn’t want Uther to look like the comic book villains I had grown up with, so he would be a) blond and b) handsome. The idea was that if you didn’t know Uther, you might find him attractive, and Uther (being who he is) might think of himself as superior in every way to Gorlois.

So Uther has curly hair because I love curls, and an aquiline nose because I love aquiline noses, and a square jaw, and a cleft chin. All of these he passes on to Arthur.

I have no idea if anyone else actually thinks Uther is good-looking. I feel that I’m really very bad at drawing babes, whether male or female, and the best I can hope for is probably that as a viewer you go, “okay, I get that this person is supposed to be pretty/handsome”, even if they aren’t drawn all that perfectly XD.

Thanks for the questions, @violetcancerian!

9 notes · View notes