forget the invitations, floral arrangements, and breadmakers
‘Marry me,’ he asked, and for a moment, it was possible.
For a moment, there was nothing in the world but their connection - nothing but his fingers, calloused and worn from years of fighting interlinked with her thin, pretty ones, holding them. Nothing but the electricity between their palms, nothing but the warmth of their smiles, the warmth of her lips gently pressing against his.
And then the moment was over. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered, and he knew, but it still hurt.
Ducat traced his fingers down her arm, gentle, and down to her bare shoulder; he wrapped his arms around her neck, and pulled her closer. ‘You can’t?’ He pressed a kiss to her cheek. ‘We couldn’t… elope, or something? Keep it a secret?’
The woman laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound in the ten lands of Aav - Ducat didn’t need to go anywhere but here to know it. If moments like this would always have to be stolen, then he would be forever a thief.
‘Ducat, I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
‘And,’ she said, and kissed him softly before she spoke again, ‘I don’t need any kind of document to prove that.’
‘But…’ There was really nothing else to say, so he stalled, twirling a lock of her hair around his fingers. ‘It would be nice, I guess.’
‘It would,’ she agreed, ‘but not in this life, my love. I’m needed here. You need me here, don’t you?’
He nodded, kissing her forehead.
‘And I need you where you are. With nobody bothering either of us. We have good work to do, my love. We can change the world.’
‘You are my world,’ he said, earnestly. ‘Can I change your mind?’
‘Maybe,’ she laughed, and he swept her up in his arms. ‘Maybe someday. If things change. Ask me in a year.’
-
It had been a year, and things had changed. Ducat watched from the rows - the rows, they wouldn’t even let him close - as the casket containing the body of his never-wife was lowered into the ground.
At least she got a funeral. Their daughter - only a few months old - was buried in shame, like the rest of the feelings between them.
Marry me, he thought, that’s only one way to be together forever. Maybe in the next life, my love.
‘We’re not going to hurt you,’ said the captain, slowly. He looked about thirty-five, but as he was an elf, those people to whom the stays of youth eternally cling, Frankie knew he could be centuries older than he seemed at first glance. His style didn’t seem particularly sailor-esque, but rather military - he wore a well-ironed green jacket, shining with a few clinking medals of valour, silver-tasselled epaulettes completing the look. A flat, circular hat sat atop his head, the same colours as the rest of his ensemble: green, white, and silver.
Frankie’s eyes widened when she realised where she’d seen that combination before.
‘You - are you the Old Guard?’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘I see you know your military history,’ he replied. ‘Yes. I’m General Ducat.’
ducat is the captain of the flightless pegasus, the pirate ship the team has somehow ended up on. he was once a military leader, but has somehow ended up a rogue on a mission to find the missing princess.
ducat was the general under the former queen of kvarlhidthe, and remained loyal to her when she was overthrown. he led the group known as the old guard in continued support of the former rule.
he’s an elf, and thus an odd choice for the military leader of the fey country of kvarlhidthe. there’s always been questions about how he got his position, but he was a very loyal and effective soldier and tactician.
ducat was raised in rhyllisor, the land of the elves, but moved to kvarlhidthe when he was older. he had no family left in his homeland and was idealistic when he joined the military, believing in what kvarlhidthe of the time stood for.
he dislikes the istafryls, and his main goal is something a little different to the rest of the cast. but there’s a very specific reason he needs people finding the princess on his side.
Cyuris was much more… wily looking. There was something about her which clearly said she knew what was going on, whether it was her knowing eyes or her practised gait. She held herself with poise Frankie wouldn’t have attributed to a pirate, and spoke in an accent certainly not formed at sea, but she was clearly totally at home here, queen of her nautical domain. All her discordant parts summed together in a crooked smile that made Frankie ever so slightly uneasy.
cyuris is the quartermaster of the flightless pegasus, the pirate ship captained by ducat. an abnormally tall woman with an abnormally noble manner, she claims she and her captain have a lead to find the missing princess.
cyuris is seven feet tall and a member of the rarest subspecies of fey — the translucents, whose skin is see-through in bright light to the point that you can make out the outlines of their bones.
she and ducat are close. she calls him ducat instead of captain, and he’s past the point of trying to correct her.
though intelligent, cyuris lacks wisdom. she can be very impulsive and headstrong, and tends to act on her own will if she thinks something is a good idea, even if everyone else is telling her it’s not.
apart from impulsivity, pride and hubris can be major character flaws for her. it fits in with her tendency to do whatever she wants without thinking that she sometimes assumes things simply won’t have consequences, or that she’s untouchable.
Bezaryth Gratt Farthvarn stood at maybe 4 feet tall at most, yet her presence was no less grand here than it had been in the middle of the fighting cage. Her skin was a pale yet tough green, still smeared with blood and water in places where she hadn’t managed to wipe it off; the cuts littering her arms and hands stung Frankie to look at, but didn’t seem to bother her at all. She had a thick mane of fine grey hair, tied in one huge ponytail behind her head, parts of which were braided in plaits of varying thickness. A few ivory beads at the ends of the plaits bounced up and down as she moved. Her eyes were a stormy grey as well, narrowed and eyeing the group up and down; her nose not big, but crooked, probably having been broken a couple of times before.
bezaryth makes her debut in the middle of an underground fighting ring, where none of the party seems to be at all comfortable, but she thrives. she’s not all that interested in the princess, but honoured to be invited to quest with han, and eager to start the journey.
bezaryth is a very skilled fighter — well, part of it is skill, but a lot of it is being a lot of muscle packed into a pretty small body. she’s developed a very high pain tolerance over the years, and tends to ignore surface injuries and keep going when hurt.
she wasn’t always this way, though — though she was always bold, impulsive, and loud, she was once a good student. she was kicked out of university after an event in her third year got her thrown in jail.
she (somehow) escaped kvarlhidthe’s notorious dungeons alive, a feat which has meant that she has no prospects of getting a real job and must keep her head low, and that she’s caught the attention of hanserinera.
there seems to be something strange going on between her and sullyse.
She took her time about it, scrutinising the rest of them. Frankie took the time to examine her in turn: with her black eyes facing forwards, piercing right through Frankie, she resembled the drawing more and more, so much that Frankie half-expected to see ink-pen brushstrokes making up her jet-black hair as she leaned in closer. She was the spitting image of what Kari must have looked like before she changed her hair, only more tan, and with longer ears which pointed out the sides of her black tresses.
‘So,’ she said, looking back at her carving once she seemed to have been satisfied in her examination. ‘Who are you?’
‘Frankie,’ Frankie muttered, an automatic response. ‘Symzulin.’
Symzulin narrowed her eyes, but didn’t look up. ‘I see my reputation precedes me.’
symzulin is a woman on the same mission as the main quest, who runs into them and joins them along the way. she causes a whole lot of trouble on her own, being — for reasons unknown to the rest of the party — wanted dead or alive by the biggest crime syndicate in kuerua.
symzulin is meticulous, clever, and driven. she can carefully plan something, all eventualities covered, and carry it out with accuracy and skill. if something gets in the way of her plans… she’s not going to be happy.
she grew up in a group called the vyra nomads with her half-sister (spoilers) kari. she ran away when she was seventeen, with no explanation.
she cares about her sister, but instinctively puts distance between them. things have happened in the two years since she ran away, and she’s still not ready to explain what they were, or why she left.
She hesitated before picking a little sprig of bluebells - she was not grieving, anymore, but the blossoms were so pretty… She held the stem in her hand for a moment, twirling it between her fingers, gently, so as not to crush it - then made her decision, poking it through Tarnoteleks’ eyehole.
Tarnoteleks looked pleased. Well, as pleased as the animated dry bones of a giant rat could look.
ratrovin is a wanderer, homeless and almost completely dissociated from the world — that is until being dragged into the quest to find princess sucks her back into reality.
ratrovin has a number of friends, some of the dead variety — tarnoteleks, the skeleton rat; rotagilla, the skeleton alligator; gorf, the living(!) frog. she also has a strict naming convention.
she grew up in a cult, and escaped a few years ago after certain… events transpired. she doesn’t really know what the world is like.
she’s a strict pacifist and loves animals. those who die, she resurrects for no reason other than she wants to.
she’s half fey, half elf, but has never met either of her parents.
On the cusp of turning back and begging Han to cash in her favour literally any other way, a trace of something - a glimmer of hope, or at the very least curiosity - emerged, a huge black blot among the shadowy trees. Gnarled and old, the shape of a truly enormous tree started to take form in her vision. Frankie approached with caution. This thing could span out across the entire forest, for all she knew; its fat roots reached out like bulbous, veiny fingers to where she stood, still a good twenty yards away.
tagging anyone who wants to do it because i don’t know who’s active nowadays! please do tag me if you do it so i know who likes tag games c:
Some #dnd #dungeonsanddragons #pencil #art #illustration of a #adventure #party falling #prey to the #illithid #monstrous #mind #flayer #mindflayer #aasimar #dwarf #gith and #halforc #charmed and #dominated https://www.instagram.com/p/B5Dq8bshoET/?igshid=1x5t5zsmwwmb2
HI FRIENDS. #inktober day 14! Today’s #demon is Ronove or Ronwe. Ronove’s appearance is described only as ‘monstrous’ in Weyer’s ‘Pseudomonarchia Daemonum’. His skills are noted in more detail, though; Ronove is a skilled debater, rhetorician & linguist. Whether he uses those skills for good or ill is up for debate, though! I’m seriously in need of more Ronove in my life, either way . . . . . . #occult #demontober #monster #monsterart #monstrous #occultart #occultartists #occultartist #occultartwork #witchcraft #invocation #lgbtwitch #transwitch #nonbinarywitch #nonbinarywitchcraft #brushinking #inkdrawing #inkmonster #creepy #spooky #spookyseason #pumpkinspice #halloween #halloweentime #bedtime #sleeptight https://www.instagram.com/p/CVBHTillJuR/?utm_medium=tumblr
