Shiloh [they/them] aroace. Podcasts & Critical Role, sometimes i draw. Current podcasts: Malevolent and Dungeons and Daddies. Spoilers tagged as "cr spoilers" and "Malevolent spoilers"
These were the first studies/sketches for Essek's outfit in the parasol fanart. The robe has a leather shoulder piece with silver chains, that I will draw again separately... let me know what you think or if you have questions, ask away!!
PLEASE DO NOT EDIT/CROP/REPOST ANYWHERE WITHOUT PERMISSION
A flicker of movement from under his raised bicep: the trajectory a knife would take on its way between his ribs. But perhaps more surprisingly, it was Essek's hand, sliding past mortal injury and coming to rest flat against Caleb's sternum, elegant rings glinting. When Essek pressed lightly there, Caleb was so distracted that he did in fact straighten up.
"Good."
The word hovered close to his ear, breath against the nape of his neck, and Caleb wanted to say something — to crack a joke, maybe, about keeping focus, but he didn't want to break the two-fold spell weaving between them, only one part of which was arcane. Essek paced another step behind him, circling, audible with his feet on the floor for once. His hand slipped away, trailing slightly - quick enough to be unintentional, but Essek was a man who was constantly aware of personal space and deliberate in how he moved.
Caleb swallowed. With practiced movements, he progressed into the next somatic configuration of looped platinum thread.
It was fingertips behind his elbow next, lifting his arm a fraction higher. A floorboard creaked under Essek's boot as he passed by Caleb's other side. His presence and the weight of his attention was as tangible as touch, and more maddening still when accompanied by these too-brief tastes of it. The hairs on the back of Caleb's neck stood up.
"Now, the last," Essek directed, finally standing square in front of him. He lifted his arms a few inches to the side, palms forward, an eyebrow lifted in challenge: an open target.
Smooth as breath, power crackling like a thunderstorm, Caleb sliced the arc of the final somatics. The cord in his hands became light, became liquid, lashing around them both — through them both — and pulling taut. Tension sang on some frequency Caleb hadn't known existed, remaining even as the light faded to a slim thread between their chests before vanishing entirely.
Tilting his head, Essek traced the spot on his own chest. "You do not need to put quite so much into it," he said, eyes quicksilver and smug. "But that is the idea, yes."
Caleb stood there, vibrating with the frission of this new arcane energy and the infuriating potentiality of the last few minutes. "So. Everything you feel, I feel, and the other way around? Is that it?"
"More or less."
"Fascinating," Caleb replied.
"Indeed."
The charged moment hung between them in silence for a beat too long, reality not yet caught up with all they might become. Caleb was the one who finally took a step forward, and Essek's shoulders pulled back at his approach, his chin lifting, their positions abruptly reversed. Within the boundary of Essek's space, and yet not touching, Caleb savored his next words on his tongue before he spoke.
"I should copy this now, ja? May I borrow your spellbook?"
Essek blinked, and his throat bobbed. "Of course." The spellbook appeared with a gesture.
Caleb took it carefully from the air, its embossed leather a familiar texture. "Danke, my friend." And he left to sit at their shared table with a smile curling the corners of his mouth.
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