One part fan writing outlet, three parts mismash of whatever I feel like reblogging, infinite parts screaming about Zevran Arainai and my self-indulgent ships. Lilou, formerly at lilouapproves. Asks are open, come say hi. : )
I'm beyond thrilled to announce that the prologue to my comic, Brute, is now live! All fifteen pages are posted and free to read on tapas. I also have started a Patreon for the story, in the hopes that I'll be able to fund the illustration of the main script in a consistent, timely manner.
If modern, paranormal fantasy with a dash of suspense and life choices which promise to turn into strained familial relationships is your thing (or maybe if you just want to read a story about Sasquatch) I would love to have you give Brute a read!
For @dragonagesapphicweek, a belated day 3: Unrequited love, I have revisited one of my favorite pairs with my Arianwen Tabris and @scribbledquillz's Revka. Here is Revka deciding to move on from her feelings for Wen:
(Warden Tabris/City elf OC | 1,532 Words | No warnings)
The night Revka knew—really knew—that Wen would not love her back was not the first night the two of them had shared a bed. It wasn't the last, either. It was one of a hundred such nights, unexceptional in every way.
Wen had fought with her father that afternoon, though she hadn't told Revka so. She'd blown in like a storm sometime after the fourth chime of the Chantry bells, discarded her coat and scarf on the bench, and chopped wood in the back courtyard for an hour. It had been a methodical thing: a log set on the block, wedge hammered in, wood broken into pieces again and again until Wen was satisfied with its state of destruction.
Revka had watched her through the open back door, hands busy with mending work. She was repairing a small thing, only a seam that'd come unstitched after snagging on a nail. She barely had to watch her hands as she flicked the needle through and through and through the cloth.
Later, she could not say what she had been thinking about. Supper, perhaps, or which project she would pick up when she'd finished with this one. Whatever her mind had been doing, it was slowly overridden by what her eyes had found.
Beyond this room and its lamplight, Wen stood in the afternoon autumn sun. Her blouse was a heap of white fabric on the ground. Now, despite the nip in the breeze, she wore only her thin undershirt and a pair of ill-fitting trousers. Her face was set, intent, a muscle occasionally twitching at her jaw. Her hand reached for the next log to split almost before she'd finished with the last. It was an automatic motion, but a graceful one. There was something about the flick of her wrist, the angle of the axe as she brought it down, that was almost a dance.
Revka angled her head to watch, hands slowing and gradually stuttering to a halt. Toss, lift, split, split, toss. It was a song, almost. A song that plucked at Revka's heart in an odd, painful way, like a scab pulled free from an unwitting wound.
Sweat slicked Arianwen's arms, painted loose hairs flush against her forehead. Her chest heaved whenever she picked up the next piece of wood. Every time she did so, the neckline of her undershirt pressed deeply against the swell of her chest.
They'd known each other for more then half their lives by now, Revka and Wen. Years and years ago, Revka had expressed jealousy that Wen's shirts had begun to fit more tightly than hers now, that others their age would occasionally look at her in a particular, speculative way when they thought Wen wasn't paying attention.
"Jealous?" Wen had said, frowning deeply. "Why? They're a nuisance. I run them into doorways all the time. If I could trade or take them off, I would. I'd rather fit in the alleyways easily again. Tore a button off my shirt last week getting away from that arse Breckan."
Revka, puzzled, had taken the shirt from her, mended it, tucked little leaves around the collar besides, but she hadn't really understood. Hadn't understood either why Wen had no interest in kissing or finding dark corners to be alone with someone as Revka did. Wen was and had always been Wen: often oblique, unyieldingly herself, apparently unaware that the strength and shape of her body had an effect on the people around her.
In the courtyard, Wen paused to run her forearm over her forehead, mussing the hair stuck to her skin. She was breathing hard, the muscles in her shoulder twitching when she clenched and unclenched her hands.
Abruptly, with no more cue than that, Revka dropped her eyes to the pile of cloth in her lap. She fumbled the needle, rethreaded it, and pricked her finger in the process. Heat burned in her cheeks, an odd sort of fervent subterfuge she hadn't felt since her parents had been alive. She felt as if she'd been sneaking sweets, tasting sugar when she wasn't allowed.
Odd thing, this was. She very carefully did not name it, skirted around its perimeter in her mind. Determined, she turned her chair away from the back door and bent to her task, forcing herself to think of other things whenever the sound of splitting wood came from the back door. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was certain that knowing would ruin this, her oldest and dearest friendship. Better she forget, as she had forced herself to forget a hundred times before.
"Wen?" she asked later that night. The two of them lay snug and warm under the quilt Revka had pieced together from scraps and threadbare blankets. She tugged on it until it covered her shoulder, more to do something with her hands than because she was cold.
"Mm?" Wen asked, her arm over her eyes.
She'd refused to go home for the evening, had borrowed the washtub here when she'd finally given up on the wood pile. She wore a nightgown of Revka's now. It fell high above her ankles, for she was taller than Revka, and had been left unbuttoned at her chest where she was broader. Revka had been very careful to keep her eyes away, for she knew now that she could not trust them. They made her think—things—that she needed to push away, tuck aside.
And yet—and yet, she needed to know for certain. Needed to be able to set this aside, move on if she was right. There were other girls in the alienage; ones who had shown an interest, certainly. So often, Revka felt the ache of loneliness that plain companionship could not assuage, no matter how dear it was.
"Wen," she said again, and one of Wen's eyes cracked open.
Revka propped herself up on her elbow and glanced behind her to make sure that her brother was still asleep in his bunk across the room.
"I love you," she said, and Wen frowned.
"Love you too."
"No—mean to say, I love you, Wen."
"Right," Wen said. "And I love you, too. Something wrong?"
Revka looked at her, though she could see very little in the dark. There was hardly enough moonlight coming in through the small window to light the gleam in Wen's eye, but it was enough. Revka leaned forward and pressed her lips to Wen's, as she had more than once before in hopes that it would mean something to Wen. Her lips were chapped and snagged roughly on Revka's, but they were also lovely, and divine, and Maker but she wished—
Nothing. She wished she had more light to see by, but—the moon showed only a faint concern, perhaps some puzzlement. What she felt for Wen, Wen did not feel for her—perhaps could not feel for anybody.
"Rev?" Wen asked, moving her arm and frowning up at Revka. "Something wrong?"
"Everything's fine," Revka said, keeping her voice carefully even. She slid back under the quilt and rolled onto her side, facing away from Wen. "Fine."
"If you're sure," Wen said.
After a moment, she pressed herself against Revka's back and draped an arm over her waist.
"I won't leave," she murmured after a moment. "Might fight with my Da, but I wouldn't go away without you. Promise."
Rev closed her eyes against the pressure of tears and took several slow breaths. Arianwen was warm behind her, the curves of her body welcoming. Revka must never again mistake that welcome for an offer that Wen would never make. She knew that now.
"I know," Revka told her. "Go to sleep."
"Alright," Wen said after a moment. The sheets rustled as she slid down again, pressed her forehead against Revka's back.
"Love you, Rev. It's you and me. Always will be."
"I know," Revka said, once Wen's breath had evened and slowed. Carefully, she set her hand over Wen's. It was a good hand, strong and callused and warm. Revka would have gladly held it forever if Wen had only asked.
She never would. Never. Revka had to accept that, had to move on. She blinked quickly until the haze over her eyes faded somewhat.
One of the girls who worked at the shop near hers had asked Revka to join her for drinks more than once. Rev had demurred, had hurried home to see her dearest friend instead.
Maybe it was time to say yes for once, and let this dream die its well-earned death.
Resolved, she closed her eyes at last. When she finally woke at dawn, she found that Wen had slipped away at some point in the night, had left behind only the note on the table and the scent of freshly broken wood clinging to the pillow.
Sniffling, telling herself it was only the cold, Revka wound a scarf around her neck and stepped out into the foggy morning. She would move on, she decided. Would go to drinks, would kiss other girls, and the touch of one of them would banish this silly feeling once and for all.
With Brute's prologue published the next big step for me is to make a final read through of the main story's script. Once that's settled I'll be setting up a Kickstarter to try to hit the funding I need to illustrate chapter one. But all that's for another day. In the meantime here's a peek at the script as I edit. (Please forgive the screenshots' format - I'd capped them to work on Instagram 😅)
I've got plans to start using individual mini bricks in my builds rather than trying to carve in a brickwork pattern to my mediums. I've seen others do the same and the results always look beautifully realistic. The only downside?
Cutting so. Many. Tiny. Bricks.
My Proxxon is absolutely earning its keep right now. 😅
Made by goblins who clearly don't care much for workplace safety. Despite their looks these pieces are all quite sturdy, and will give a fun, slapdash feel to any goblin camp your wayward players happen to stumble upon. They can be used individually or stacked on top of one another for an extra bit of heedless peril and annoying goblin archery.
I'm beyond thrilled to announce that the prologue to my comic, Brute, is now live! All fifteen pages are posted and free to read on tapas. I also have started a Patreon for the story, in the hopes that I'll be able to fund the illustration of the main script in a consistent, timely manner.
If modern, paranormal fantasy with a dash of suspense and life choices which promise to turn into strained familial relationships is your thing (or maybe if you just want to read a story about Sasquatch) I would love to have you give Brute a read!
I'm beyond thrilled to announce that the prologue to my comic, Brute, is now live! All fifteen pages are posted and free to read on tapas. I also have started a Patreon for the story, in the hopes that I'll be able to fund the illustration of the main script in a consistent, timely manner.
If modern, paranormal fantasy with a dash of suspense and life choices which promise to turn into strained familial relationships is your thing (or maybe if you just want to read a story about Sasquatch) I would love to have you give Brute a read!
