Aaa my first Tumblr ask :D Super excited to answer - I had outlined a bit but had yet to write it down in full, so thank you so much for asking this question. 🤎
[TL;DR Wandering artist from Aaru Village who takes illustration commissions from Akademiya scholars for various projects!]
"The Girl Who Would Bridge Both Worlds"
Khepri was born in Sumeru's hardy desert settlement, Aaru Village, and expressed wonder for the world around her from a young age. Before she had a pen and paper, she was drawing lines in the sand with sticks. Her curiosity often led her beyond the village's borders, sneaking off to observe rock formations, ruins, and the changing colors of the desert sky. At first, this worried her father - a no-nonsense hunter accustomed to keeping an eye out for threats rather than beauty. But over time, her quiet focus and unshaken attention softened his concern.
Instead of scolding her curiosity, he chose to guide it. He began taking her along on hunting trips, teaching her survival skills: how to follow tracks, conserve water, and recognize danger in advance. Khepri listened attentively, though her eyes often lingered not on prey, but on the play of light across the dunes, or the hardened lines of her father's face.
Upon returning to the village, she would sneak past open doors to steal ink and scrolls that “weren't being used anyway” to capture a captivating silhouette she had seen that day, displaying a mischievous streak early on. Admonishments never quelled the creative fire behind those actions. Eventually, the adults of the village relented, and she was given her own supply of ink and paper.
On her tenth birthday, she was given an even better outlet for her artistic drive: a set of watercolor paints and a watercolor pad, both bought from a wandering merchant - a rare luxury in Aaru Village. Khepri was now capturing sunsets in pink-orange hues, detailing the red lines on the surrounding cliffs and the blue ripples of water.
While other children learned to barter and hunt, Khepri spent hours chasing after colors and silhouettes. Stories of their heritage made other kids wary of the city that looked down upon them, while Khepri felt only a spark of inspiration.
As she grew older and continued joining in on her father's outings, however, it became apparent that her free spirit could not be contained by the confines of the Great Red Sand. She yearned to travel by herself, and she felt confident in her ability to do so by now. Her father embraced her, patting her on the back as she took her first steps out into the desert as an independent adult, her white cloak swaying on the dry wind.
For the first time, the land before her felt not vast, but inviting. The chance to bridge the gap between desert and city through art stood before her, ready to be explored.
She didn’t head to the border straight away - She had wandered off the caravan line to capture a light she couldn’t unsee, a narrow ribbon of water that bent sunlight into a fractal on the canyon wall. While she sketched, the wind grew hungry; a low rumble warned of a sand tongue forming. She stayed anyway, fingers cramped, ink dots on her sleeve, refusing to let the moment wash away. When the first grains struck her ankle she did not run. She kept drawing until the thumbnail of the horizon blurred. The Hydro Vision arrived as if it were recognition that she had chosen art over ease, and that her medium and the element were one. It rested in her palm like a direct consequence of her passion.
When she continued her journey onward, her heart pounded in excitement as she was given the go-ahead through Caravan Ribat. The world she'd stepped into was so lush, so green - a color she'd scarcely used where brown and red once quickly depleted. Her eyes lit up wide when they fell upon Pardis Dhyai, the clear work of an artist.
Khepri took in the new lands with rapt attention, unaware of the ache in her feet until it grew too sharp to ignore. She sat down in the grass, breath coming oddly thick. The air pressed at her like a damp cloth; each inhalation tasted of green and rot, the kind of humidity that made paper curl in the heat. Her eyes hunted for a line to steady them - a horizon, a vanishing point - and found none. Instead, leaves collided, trunks overlapped, and every shade of green multiplied until shapes lost their edges. For the first time since she had left Aaru, Khepri felt unmoored: not simply anxious, but physiologically off-balance, as if the ground itself had changed its rules.
Khepri pressed her Vision to her chest, steadying herself as she remembered why she had come this far.
Soon enough, she was painting again - capturing the glass structure that sat proudly atop the site, enamored by the many speckled colors the sun revealed when it shone through.
When exhaustion finally crept in, she lifted her gaze and spotted a grand city in the far distance. The sun shone on Sumeru City, beckoning her to its streets with the smell of coffee and the sounds of conversing scholars, merchants, and artists alike.
Khepri traversed the streets of Sumeru City, sloppily capturing buildings and passing faces onto her watercolor pad, apologizing each time she bumped into unimpressed cityfolk. She definitely didn’t belong here, but she was too excited to dwell on any insecurities.
Her steps were not completely aimless, for she was heading to the institute she hoped would recognize her talents: the Akademiya.
Taking a deep, steadying breath at the intimidatingly grand entryway, she took a step towards the future… before being politely stopped by a Matra, who asked her to state her purpose and affiliation. Flustered, Khepri stuttered out that she was an artist visiting from Aaru Village - two facts that raised the guard's brow. The silence was unnerving. She had been warned before that the city was wary of desert folk, and that the Akademiya looked down on the arts.
The Matra’s face was polite but flat. “Purpose?” he asked again. Khepri fumbled out her papers and pad; the sketches were smudged with travel dust. He scoffed quietly. “We don’t need scribbles.” Khepri’s mouth went dry. Instead of pleading, she set the pad down and pointed out, in quick strokes, the precise turning mark she’d noticed on the road - a shallow set of breaks in the cliff that meant safe passage for caravans. She sketched the break, the bearings, the discarded cairn where thieves often hid. The guard stared. “You can draw a map?” he muttered. “That’s not art; that’s useful.” Another Matra looked to the courtyard. A blonde had been watching in interest.
The fellow artist introduced himself as Kaveh and guided her around the premises. Khepri was enthusiastic as she gave him her sincere thanks. After telling him that she was an artist who loved to draw environments and portraits, she learned that he was an architect who had graduated from the Akademiya and was currently scouting for work.
As they sat in the beautiful Razan Garden, Khepri fished out her watercolor pad and showed him her works. Kaveh saw her talent immediately - her uncanny eye for detail in landscapes and light - and confidently told her what her strengths were, and her potential to appeal to the Akademiya's practicalities.
He mentioned a scholar who had been struggling to convey their findings. Their research project about a strange elemental phenomenon kept getting rejected because it “lacked clarity.”
Kaveh put in a good word, and soon Khepri was brought to the site north of Chatrakam Cave. She attempted to capture what written analyses failed to convey, capturing its strange shape and color.
The scholar’s dismissal came blunt and practical: “They’re pretty. They’re not persuasive.” Khepri’s cheeks hot, she hauled out the pad and listened. “We need scale, measurements, interaction with light.” She left the scholar’s hall and spent two days recalibrating: she measured a strip of the phenomenon, sketched cross-sections, noted angles where light concentrated and where ripples dampened. Where before she’d painted atmosphere, she now overlaid notations - millimeter marks, angle ticks, a small legend. When she returned, the scholar took one look and barked a laugh that was almost relief. “This is legible.” Funding followed. Her art had become data.
Khepri continued building confidence as she traversed the lands of Sumeru to and fro, capturing everything she saw both for work and her own fascination with the world around her. Her travels brought her an insightful, almost philosophical view of the world around her, and an even deeper appreciation for the beauty of the natural world. She would get lonely sometimes when she was away from her family in Aaru Village, which would explain why she was so hyper-animated upon meeting up with Kaveh and, occasionally, his other friends. They would often meet up at Puspa Café, which is where she discovered the dark liquid gold that was coffee - a friend for long, exhausting travels.
Before long, she'd raised enough Mora to buy a bracelet that neatly held her Hydro Vision, and new clothes to express herself - made of expensive fabrics, she failed to realize at the time, putting quite a dent in her savings… meaning she could scarcely afford lodgings in the city.
One day, while staying back in the village, Khepri received an Akademiya-sealed letter - apparently from the Akademiya's Scribe himself, Alhaitham. (Khepri recognized the name straight away as the roommate Kaveh always complained about.) He had been reviewing writings related to the influence of elements on bodily systems, and found them… insufficient. Her visual documentation had caught his eye because of how well she captured causality, not just aesthetics.
The two met back at the Akademiya when Khepri finished the first draft of the commission. He scanned each illustration, voicing his observations of what was working and what could be improved. As he looked up, he noticed her staring at him intensely and paused. Instead of apologizing, Khepri commented that his eyes moved with mechanical efficiency when he was concentrated. He hummed, acknowledging her perceptiveness.
He asked her to remove some visual flourish for clarity. Another revision later, and the work was done. The Scribe was satisfied with her work, officially earning her his respect.
The next time Kaveh invited her to catch up, Alhaitham happened to be there as well, seated at the café mid-argument with the architect. Khepri listened in. Kaveh was working on a new architectural project for a client and wished to make a costly revision. He argued for the side of aesthetic harmony, while Alhaitham countered that it added unnecessary time and expense.
It sounded like a debate they'd had before.
Khepri listened as they argued until, finally, she reached for her pad. She drew a quick plan of the plaza: Kaveh’s ornamental tier, a shaded bench, the narrow stair where foot traffic funneled. Then, in a thinner pen, she overlaid little arrows showing likely pedestrian flow.
“If you raise this step,” she murmured, “people will funnel into this corner and bottleneck. They won’t stop to look; they’ll squeeze past.”
Kaveh tilted his head. Alhaitham frowned, leaning in to trace the arrows. “Your sample is anecdotal,” he said, the skeptic in him already counting variables.
“But that is a clear projection.” Kaveh rubbed his chin, then grinned wryly. The squabble lost its heat - because she’d spoken both their languages, showing them both what they cared about.
[I don't write super often, any critique is welcome. Thank you for reading🤎]
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