WIP Wednesday!
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Hello everyone! I had a great day so far, finally being able to ride the horse again after months. Well, there have been shit things too; the dog awoke me with puking and the cat has let a rat loose in the house. Uh, anyway here's about my creative progress:
I did manage to finish the line work of another mucha study with Lovira starring in it today and started to put the base colours in. Did a lot of it yesterday while listening to fics hehe! Here she is:
But wait, there is more! (under the cut for lenght)
I've been active in writing and the weekend coming I'll publish another chapter of Dealings with Daedra. The blorbos have gotten into a situation in the last one and getting involuntarily involved with the Dark Brotherhood as put Moronturd in a really bad mood and poor Astrid has to endure it.
“Shhh,” he made. “Think before you speak. What do you prefer? To protect this patron or for your little family to get out of this sanctuary alive?” He gave her time to think, but after two minutes had passed, his fingers drummed on the tabletop close to him. “What is it now?” he urged. “Sithis forgive me, Nightmother save my soul,” Astrid uttered, closing her eyes. “I don’t have a name, but it was one of the Vigils of Stendarr. Mentioned something of an old fiend he needs eliminated, as the Vigil had no interest in pursuing it. He has paid the blood price. Her fate is sealed and I need to - ” “This Dunmer is a prisoner of the Thalmor, more precise my prisoner. It is my duty to solve the riddle of her condition. The Dark Brotherhood will not touch a hair on her head. Is that clear, Astrid? Will you get me my prisoner now?” Morotar spoke and cracked a joint in his finger. “I can’t just let her out of here and - ” “Astrid,” he repeated her name, slow and low. Inching closer, he stood now before the woman, noting how he was at least a head taller than her. A little magicka trickled in his arm, dripped out of his finger and ignited the air around the cage they formed. He lifted his hand, held the flame close to her face. So close, that it must have burned, yet she did not dare to wince. Red spread on her skin. “Listen to me. I will explain it to you only one more time. If you want your guild to withstand longer and not be ash in the morning, do what I say. I will not hesitate to perish you all in flames, burning all of you to crisps. Get me my prisoner. Now.” “Morotar, you should - ” Lovira tried to speak, yet the wicked glare he shot her made her fall silent. Meanwhile, Astrid tried to move her head away, yet the gentle touch of Morotar’s other hand held her in place. The red on her cheek deepened and soon bubbles would spread, white, hurting and filled with liquid. “Astrid, I have brought the Dunmer,” the voice of the boy chimed in. Shaking and unsure, of course. Had he gotten Nevri out of her cell for the execution or had he overheard the conversation?
We're not ending here! I also have worked a bit more on Ancano and Faralda trash and I'm hoping to get this out soon. I'm still thinking of a name for this bullshit, if you have any ideas that play into the entire hunting theme, hit me up. For now, have the pathetic pebble man and the gorgeous perfect flawless woman by his side:
“Since when do you care for my reading times? I remember a time you even took my books from me. Are those times now over?” A trick question. And still it awoke memories in him of their beginning, how he had known to leave an imprint on her mind. They had been getting along quite well back then, discussing magic theory. Faralda was an excellent conversation partner in academic field, one he had missed dearly. Nevertheless, he did not regret that his ulterior motives, the reasons he had actually had for making contact, had pushed their way to the fore. “You always assume the worst of me,” he answered. “How could I do anything else? You’ve show me awful sides of yourself. I saw how ugly you are on the inside. You cloak it well, make yourself appealing and desirable. But that mask you wear sits lose and you’ve shown me your true face a little too often, did you not?” The glint in her eye spoke not only of the grudge she harboured, of the anger that burned inside her soul, it too showed her urge to provoke him, to let him fall of the tightrope he so carefully walked. The moment he was to plunge into the abyss, she’d wave after him, another of her wicked grins on her lips. He knew that she was to win, every time and always, but in him stirred the impulse to resist. It was the most stupid thing and brought him stumbling right into the trap she had laid out but perhaps there was a chance to earn the sweetest of pains from it. “There is no mask, dear. It is what you tell yourself to feel better. So you don’t have to admit how terribly naïve you were, when falling for me. You were blinded by the idea of me that you had built up in your mind and the moment I did no longer meet these expectations, you lost your control.” Of course there had been a mask. She spoke the truth and nothing but the truth, but Ancano did not want to let that slip. The constant accusations were enough. He had paid for what he had done already with loosing her, all the lingering and yearning he had went through more stabs in his heart and how it had peaked had been enough. He had cleared his depts and now, she was to change her demeanour. A mirthless laugh followed his words. Faralda put her book to the side, crossing her legs. The coat over them slipped and exposed a piece of bare skin beneath. Was that not too cold? Ancano’s gaze lingered on her ankle, the gold of her skin calling out for his touch. “You twist the truth again,” she stated, following his eyes and finding the point he fixated. As if by accident, she slipped her hand over the coat, pulling it a bit further down, her leg freed a little more. Ancano swallowed hard, the small hairs in the nape of his neck standing upright. It cost him the strength of a thunderstorm to avert his glare and find her face again. Reproach was written all over it, a little fold had formed between her eyebrows, adding to those that framed her squinted lids. “See, you say I twist the truth no matter how honest I am to you,” he answered, his tongue now dry in his mouth. “I can't please you, no matter what I say or do. You will always find faults in me. Because you want to.” “Tzz,” she made, rolling her eyes. “You should hear yourself speak. Such a pitiful creature you are, never searching any fault in yourself but finding it only in others. I do not want to find your faults, you reveal them to me openly. I can see through you since you broke me. I know how you play and now you complain that I joined your game?” “You do not play fair.” “Did you ever?”
