[gwylim-press]

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alright, I'm finally doing something with this

this is my writing side-blog; I intend to post finished work on it.

wips, art, character info, etc. can be found on my main TES blog @nerevarbean

chapters of my as-yet-unwritten main fic will be tagged #sanctuary | other things relating to it will be tagged #sanctuary-adjacent

[gwylim-press]

28th Last Seed, 3E 423

Bravoyn returns to his uncle's flat after a long day of healing at the Balmora Temple.

The evening sun had just dipped below the ridge behind Balmora when Bravoyn left the temple, hands aching, a faint pressure behind his eyes. The marks of a day well spent, in his opinion. The disappearing sun had taken with it the warmth of the early-autumn day. Bravoyn pulled the sleeves of his robe down as he walked, though the flat he’d started to call home in recent months wasn’t far. He could smell, as he approached the foot of the stairs that led up to Edd’s flat, the distinct herbal tang of kreshweed smoke. He smiled to himself, briefly. It wasn’t an uncommon odour in this part of the city, and that was in no small part due to his uncle’s predictable habits. Sure enough, when Bravoyn entered the flat, he was greeted by the sight of Eddie leant back in the chair at his work table, tilted back, eyes closed, with a kreshweed joint in his mouth, a stream of smoke trailing upwards from it towards the small window that he’d cracked open.

  “Evening, kid.” He said around the joint without opening his eyes.

  “Back giving you trouble again?” Bravoyn asked as he crossed the small space to the screens that separated the corner where they’d managed to squeeze in a bed for him. He dropped his satchel at the foot of it and freed his hair from its tie, letting the auburn length fall down his back. It did little to relieve his aching head.

  “Always is.” Edd replied, taking the joint out of his mouth and finally opening his eyes. He straightened as he watched Bravoyn with that familiar, scrutinising gaze of his, as though he was assessing exactly how much of himself Bravoyn had given away today.

  “You know, I could-“ Bravoyn started to say as he leant against one of the screens.

  “Not tonight, Brav. I’m not subjecting us to that indignity while you look like you’re about to keel over where you stand. I’m managing perfectly well.” He gestured towards a chair at the table in the middle of the room with his joint before taking another drag. “Sit. That screen wasn’t made to support your weight.”

Bravoyn simply smiled and crossed the room again, sitting as Edd had suggested. He near-enough collapsed into the chair, the room tilting slightly as went down so he rested his head in his arms for a moment. Edd held out the joint to him.

  “You look like you need it.” He offered, and grinned when Bravoyn took it, for once, without hesitation. Bravoyn sat back up, pushing his hair back over his shoulder, and took a deep drag off the joint. He coughed once before letting the smoke back out in a sigh and handing the joint back to Edd.

  “You know, mum would say you’re a terrible influence. Letting me develop bad habits like this.” Bravoyn leant back and watched Edd taking another pull. He’d tried to smile as he said it, but it just felt hollow, the way it always did whenever he spoke of his parents.

  “Bad habits.” Edd repeated and smirked. “It’s hardly a habit on your part, kid. Try calling it that again when you’re my age and you’ve been at it for over twenty years. She’d be more concerned that you’re working yourself too hard.”

 “I suppose she would.” Bravoyn conceded with a dry huff. Edd was right. She and his father had always tried to reach him the importance of letting himself rest, taking breaks, listening to his body. You can’t help anyone if you push yourself to exhaustion, love, he remembered her saying as she held a trembling hand between both of hers, both warming it and urging her magicka into him to soothe the fatigue that always came when he drained himself too deeply. “I guess we’re both disappointments.”

  “Hey, none of that.” Edd said and nudged Bravoyn’s foot with his. “They’d be proud of you for keeping at it.” He took one final, deep drag from the joint and stubbed it out before blowing out the smoke in a long, slow exhale. “The temple had you busy?”

  “Mmmm. There’s some kind of respiratory sickness going around labour town so we had a lot of people in today.” Bravoyn explained. He hooked his arm over the back of the chair and leant forwards to rest his chin on it.

  “I see, long day of being coughed over then? No wonder you look like shit.” Edd grinned, and Bravoyn tried for offense but he just laughed, starting to feel a little lighter. That kreshweed must have started to kick in.

  “Something like that,” He murmured. “What about you? Did you get that enchantment to stick?”

  “I did, finally. Bloody finicky things.” Edd reached behind him for the amulet on his workbench, and held it out to Bravoyn. There was a faint, purple glow rippling over the surface of it, a simple, red stone wrapped in a thick, gold-coloured wire. “It’s a guild job so I couldn’t half-arse it this time.”  

  “You never half-arse anything.” Bravoyn took the amulet and examined it, turning it between his fingers, careful not to activate the enchantment. “What does it do?”

  “True, but I like having the option available.” Edd grinned again and accepted the amulet once Bravoyn had finished looking at it, setting it back down on his desk. “Levitation and invisibility. At the same time. Some fucker wants to fly about without being seen.”

  “Sounds complicated.” Bravoyn murmured. His head, thankfully, had finally stopped throbbing.

  “Oh, it was. Bloody guild never want to give me the easy jobs. It’s always shit like this or something they don’t want dirtying their hands. Usually both.”

  “I’m getting the impression that you don’t much like working for them.” Bravoyn commented, resting his chin back on his arm, his mouth curving in amusement.

  “That obvious?” Edd asked dryly. His joints cracked as he stood and stretched, and Bravoyn winced sympathetically. Edd waved it off and went to crouch by the small clay oven in the corner, lighting it with a simple, practiced gesture, and then set an old, battered kettle over it. “Unfortunately, they usually pay well and it keeps them from harassing me to join them. Fuckers have been at it since the Empire landed here. Tea?”

  “Please.” Bravoyn sat up again and stretched his arms out in front of him, flexing his fingers. The lingering strain from his day’s work had dulled, at least, though they still felt stiff. “So you take whatever jobs they don’t want to do themselves and they leave you alone?”

  “Pretty much. It’s not ideal, but…better that than having their oversight on every bloody trinket I make.” Edd let out a long sigh as he waited for the kettle to boil. He set some cups and his pot of dried bittergreen leaves and trama root on the table, along with a small glass bottle of marshmerrow syrup. He sprinkled some of the leaf–root mixture into each cup, and then poured a little of the syrup into one with a grimace that he tried and failed to hide. He managed to keep his usual complaints about Bravoyn’s preference for sweetened tea to himself this time, at least. “Never thought I’d miss Sadrith Mora, but here we are.”

“Do you think you’d ever go back?” Bravoyn asked, watching his motions. There was something about the way Edd’s hands moved, steady and confident, that Bravoyn had found grounding since he was a child watching Edd pulverise herbs at his parents’ counter.

“Not without a significant change in leadership, kid. The Telvanni might care less about how you do your work, but they’re still a bunch of fuckin’ vipers. Anyway,” Edd paused to pour boiling water over the tea leaves, and left them to steep. “Despite the Empire encroaching on my peace, I’m kinda enjoying not having to watch my back every waking moment. And you make it easier to stomach this city, kid.” He gave Bravoyn an easy grin before adding “Even if you do take up half the flat.”

  “I do not.” Bravoyn let out a huff through his nose and accepted the cup Edd slid towards him once it had sat for long enough. He wrapped his hands around it, the warmth sinking into his still-stiff fingers and soothing them slightly. He lifted it to his lips, blew on it, and then took a tentative sip. It was strong, as Edd always made his tea, herbal, slightly bitter, but grounding and sweetened just enough that it didn’t make Bravoyn shudder on its way down. “Mmm. Thanks.”

  “Don’t sweat it, kid. You got plans for the evening?” Edd turned back to the clay oven; he took the kettle and poured the remainder of the water into a pot, set the kettle aside, and then moved the pot onto the oven to keep the water warm. He crouched with a quiet hiss and started rummaging through a basket. He plucked out a few ash yams, some corkbulb root, scuttle, and a bundle of fresh bittergreen leaves.

  “I….” Bravoyn trailed off; his eyes flicked to his corner of the flat. A book on the barrel next to his bed that was serving as a side table caught his eye. “I thought I might keep going through that book Dorisa gave me. On Ashland sicknesses. There might be something useful in there for the current illness going around.”

  “Hmm. You could do that.” Edd replied, stepping back towards the table with the vegetables he’d picked out in one arm, a board under the other, and a knife in his hand. His gaze, piercing and assessing, fell on Bravoyn again. “Or, you could relax for once. I know you don’t like letting yourself slow down, kid, but you look exhausted. No sense muddling up your brain with even more work.” Edd let the vegetables fall onto the table, set down the knife and cutting board, and sat across from Bravoyn with a grunt. He took a long  swig of his tea before starting to chop them up. “Finish your tea, see if you can stomach my stew, and let everything else wait until the morning.”

  “I don’t know, I should…” Bravoyn looked at the book again, and then back at Edd. Edd paused his knife briefly enough to glance back at Bravoyn with a raised eyebrow, and any will to argue just…went away. “All right, I’ll give myself a break.”

  “Good.” Edd replied, giving him a crooked smile, and they settled back into their quiet domestic rhythm of Edd chopping vegetables while Bravoyn continued sipping on his tea, resigned to letting his mind settle and fighting back the need to keep going.

[art]

[nerevarbean]

I wanted to try something different with colouring these sketches and ended up having a lot of fun

(used some of these brushes)

also i was inspired to do some more writing to go with them:

Bravoyn lit the candle next to the bed. It wasn’t much, and logically he knew it did nothing while his parents’ remains were locked away, unclaimed, in the Empire’s vaults, but it at least made him feel a little less alone. “Well, I finally made it to Gnisis.” He murmured quietly to it, and then smiled ruefully as memory started to press close. “You always did talk about bringing me here. To meet him. To see the town you grew up in.” For a moment, Arvs-Drelen faded away and he was back in Cheydinhal, sitting at their old kitchen table.

“Sit still, Brav,” his father had said, “Uncle Baladas will want to see what you look like now.” Bravoyn had tried not to roll his eyes at that.

  “I don’t look any different from the last time you drew me for him." He’d said and frowned. It had only been three years. Was the difference between 18 and 21 really that noticeable?

  “Humour your dad, love.” His mother had looked up from the herbs she’d been grinding at the counter. “You won’t see the difference at your age, but we do. And Uncle Baladas will.”

  “Fine.” Bravoyn had muttered and sat back in his chair, but his face remained unchanged.

  “That’s right, keep that expression. He’ll be glad to know we didn’t raise you to be completely soft.” Fendel had laughed then, and Bravoyn had struggled not to smile with him.

  “You could just take me to meet him.” Bravoyn had said. “You’ve been talking about it for years.”

“You know we want to, love.” Brara had replied softly. “When we’ve got enough money to close the shop for a little while.”

Bravoyn had nodded, it had made sense – it had always taken Edd weeks to travel to Cheydinhal and so he’d spend weeks with them too, claiming it was to make the long journey worthwhile. There had been no doubt that his parents would have wanted the same when it was their turn to make the trip. “Would we see Eddie, too?”

  “Of course,” She’d smiled at him then. “He’s always wanted the chance to show you around Balmora.”

  “Hm,” Fendel had chuckled under his breath, then. “His idea of showing Brav around the city would involve taking him to all of its taverns and then trying not to fall into the river.”

  “He wouldn’t!” Brara had laughed and come over then to swat him on the arm. She’d bent over to look at his drawing, and then laughed again, delighted. “It looks just like you, love. Show him, Fen.”

  Fendel had set down his pencil and then lifted the parchment, and turned it around to show Bravoyn a delicate sketch of himself rendered in careful strokes. He’d captured that frown Bravoyn had been wearing perfectly.

  Bravoyn had let out a strangled sound and then laughed despite himself. “You can’t send Baladas that!”

  “No?” Fendel had smiled innocently, setting the drawing down again. “I think it’s sufficiently different from the last one I sent. You’d been smiling in that one, as I recall. Of course,” He’d paused and bent over the drawing again, not looking up as he'd continued speaking. “I could send it to Eddie if you’d prefer. He’ll laugh and then tease you endlessly next time he comes.”

 “Don’t you dare!” Bravoyn had laughed properly then. “Fine, send it to Baladas. Maybe he’ll get a laugh out of it too.”

  “It’d be a miracle if he did. I don’t think I saw him laugh once throughout my childhood.” Brara had laughed again and come up behind Bravoyn, wrapping her arms around him and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “If anyone could get him to laugh, though, it’d almost certainly be you, love.”

Gods, he missed that feeling. Cheydinhal disappeared almost as quickly as the memory had arisen, and the walls of Arvs-Drelen, that distant humming, the scent of metal and oil and old paper returned, and Bravoyn was alone again.

[nerevarbean]

OC AITA Tag Game

The rules are simple: Write one of those AITA posts, but from the POV of your OC, and tag your friends to do the same! thank you to @changelingsandothernonsense and @sunlightpassingthroughthewater for tagging me!

r/AmITheAsshole • posted by u/enchanted-rat

My (78 M) nephew (B, 26 M) has been living with me in Balmora for the past year or so, since he lost his parents. He’s a good kid, quiet, keeps to himself, but he has this tendency to draw the wrong kind of attention by sticking to his convictions and doing what he believes is right all the damn time. His parents were the same and that’s ultimately what got them killed, which is why we’re in this bloody situation.

He’s drawn the ire of some unsavoury types in this city, the kind that you really don’t want to cross – shit, even I avoid them as best as I can, even though I know I could handle them if I had to. So...either I make him go somewhere else where they can’t reach him, or I find him dead at the bottom of the river. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened. I really don’t think I have any other choice, and yet I still feel like shit for it. It’s not even his fault, really.

So, he’s a healer, and a month ago, his boyfriend (R, 24 M) was brought to my flat bleeding out from a hole that one of those said unsavoury types put in him (something to do with a job gone wrong – I can’t get into the details of it). B managed to save his life as he does and that sent off a whole chain of political fuckery that ended up with R’s family being transferred to the mainland on orders from higher up (they’re a prominent family with one of the great houses – again, can’t get into details).

This left B without their status to shield him from the shits that stabbed R. I consider myself a pretty good mage, but there’s only so much I can do to protect him. So when I heard R’s family was going, I got in touch with an old friend in Sadrith Mora (G, 93 M), just to ask if he’d be able to rent B a room and look out for him if things turn unsafe for him here. G said he would.

I was really hoping that I wouldn’t have to take him up on it, but since R’s family left, those fuckers had been harassing B on the street. He kept insisting, though, that he wasn’t going to be bullied out of the city. Part of me admires his stubbornness – his mother had been exactly the same, but by the gods, it’s frustrating sometimes. Yesterday he came home with a guard and a nasty bruise on his jaw. So that was when I decided he had to go. I really didn’t want to make that decision, but I didn’t know what else to do. I know what they’re like. They won’t leave him alone until he’s dead.

Anyway, I told him this morning that he had to go, that I’d already arranged it, and he was…not happy, to put it lightly. Maybe I was too firm with him. I’ve always tried to give him the space to make his own decisions, but whether or not he’ll be alive to be able to make them is not something I’m going to treat lightly.

I’ve never seen him angry before. Upset, yes. Overwhelmed. Frustrated. Hollowed out with grief. But never anger. Under other circumstances, I’d be glad to see it – he’s always held things like this too closely, turned them on himself instead of lashing out, but in this instance, it’s obvious that it means he’s hurting, and it’s my bloody fault. He said some things that I’m trying not to let sting. That I’m treating him like he’s a child. That I don’t have the right to just decide things for him without even telling him. That he can’t keep running. I get it. He’s been through a lot and he probably feels like I’m abandoning him. He’s pretty much the only family I have left and vice versa, so as much as I’d hate to see him leave…I promised his parents I’d keep him safe, and this feels like the only way to do that. I told him as such – that I promised to keep him safe, not necessarily comfortable. I don’t know if he understands because he left the flat for my girlfriend’s (D, 65 F) shop after that, so no doubt she’ll have some words for me when they come back. She’s always had a soft spot for him.

Anyway, that’s the gist of it. Like I’ve said, I feel like shit and I’m trying so fucking hard not to hate myself for this. TLDR; my nephew saved his boyfriend’s life, drew the attention of the local murdering criminal syndicate, and now I have to send him across the island against his will.

I need some kreshweed.

EDIT 1: D brought him back not too long ago. He’s still pissed but I think she’s talked him down a bit. She understands my perspective but thinks I should have given him more warning. Or involved him in the decision.

EDIT 2: Look, I’m not sending him somewhere where he’ll have no prospects. G will look out for him. And R’s father gave him a hefty bag of coin for saving his son’s life before they left. And he’s skilled enough that I know he’ll find work when he settles. He’ll be alright. He’ll be alright…

Am I the Asshole?

YTA (you're the asshole)

NTA (not the asshole)

NAH (no assholes here)

ESH (everyone sucks here)

Voting ended onJan 20