Three of my favorite gnomes—Billiver, Jubilost, and Regill. :3

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Billiver I see as tall for a gnome, with a willowy figure that his robes emphasize. I leaned into him being a cleric of Sivanah when designing the rest of his outfit—a lot of gauzy layers that give him the impression of fluttering when he moves. He twirls his goatee with long, delicate fingers when he gets flustered.

Jubi is short and square as per his portrait, and by some miracle these three ended up roughly to scale with each other. He is explaining very painstakingly and for the millionth time why you are wrong.

Regill I see as average height, 3'3" specifically, with a slender, leanly muscular build and spindly, bony fingers. Beautiful hands for a beautiful man…

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @boethiahspillowbook, thank you! <3 I tag @nostalgic-breton-girl, @dirty-bosmer, and @sheirukitriesfandom.

I’ve been working on a bit of Isanna’s pre-wotr story which has taken a turn for nonsense… so, here, an adventure in Magnimar:

She glanced around the messy room and smiled wryly at herself. There was no way this encounter was going to end with any kind of committed relationship, either: the chaos would drive her mad within a week. But for now… now it didn’t matter. He was interested in her on a purely physical level; they would go their separate ways after this, and she would finally get to experience being with a gnome without all the strings attached. Billiver falling quite literally into her arms, then, was a stroke of luck. The only thing that could have been luckier—she blushed yet again—was if she could have fallen into an interested Hellknight’s arms. She supposed a gnomish Hellknight would have been the ideal, but even entertaining the thought almost made her laugh: no gnome in his right mind would ever join the Hellknights. She doubted gnomish Hellknights even existed.

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @dirty-bosmer, thank you! I tag @nostalgic-breton-girland @sheirukitriesfandom, with no pressure of course. : )

Some post-ascension Isanna and Regill during their visit to Magnimar:

“I don’t have to ask what you think,” Isanna said quietly once they were well away from the door to Billiver’s shop. “Portions of the Abyss were more orderly than that,” Regill returned in consternated complaint. “Yes,” she agreed with a wry little smile. “It’s gotten worse since I was last here.” “And you’re enabling him,” he said flatly. Although her smile turned to one of guilty apology, she said, “Can you really fault me for sending him new trinkets and stories every so often? It might have been enabling, certainly, but it was an act of love, and a service.” He gazed at her thoughtfully, and his expression softened into a smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a non-gnome who cares as much about the Bleaching as you,” he said. “How could I not?” she asked. “So many of those I care about are gnomes. You, the love of my life…” They shared a fond look, and she continued quietly, “I couldn’t let it take you. I wish I could keep it from taking anyone. If that means contributing to his hoard, so be it.”

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @dirty-bosmer, thank you! I tag @nostalgic-breton-girl, @boethiahspillowbook, and @sheirukitriesfandom. : )

Have a snippet in which Isanna makes the mistake of taking Billiver up on the offer of a cup of tea:

She settled herself cross-legged on the floor and watched him work, but all her enthusiasm for tea quickly evaporated when she realized that he was using his alchemical equipment to brew it, and there looked to be a residual… something dripping down the glass. “Don’t worry,” he said cheerfully, noticing her expression. “It’s perfectly safe. Nothing in here will have any adverse effects, I assure you!” She managed a smile, but as the tea darkened and sent swirls of steam unfurling into the air, her thoughts wandered to what she had heard of his tonic—vile, gritty, purple-staining—and she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly classified as an adverse effect to him. Even if there was a chance the tea would grant her some small resistance to disease, she sincerely hoped that wasn’t the last thing he had brewed. He poured the tea into mismatched beakers that served as mugs, and her stomach tightened with nerves that the mounds of sugar he began to heap into them did nothing to help. Under normal circumstances she would have stopped him after the first spoonful, but given that she didn’t trust the tea in the first place, she only watched dubiously and accepted her fate in silence.