#agnessa

[pitofghosts]

Illarion can’t read

[majros-mishaps]

im switching mains for a while because Reasons so im trying to get comfy with agnessa. best way i can do that is by trying to figure out how to draw her

so that is why she looks different in all three pics LOL pls forgive

[pitofghosts]

Illarion is the type of guy who rolls into a diner at 6am and insists on chatting with the staff, the other people in line, the people sitting eating their meals. He sits alone at a table, one leg up on a chair, arms draped, eating his breakfast and he talks with the local farmers who are both annoyed and amused by him.

Is he a peculiar go-getter about to get praise from his elders? Or is he an obnoxious deadbeat who won’t shut up?

He’s both :)

[pitofghosts]

Consider: Illarion, age 17, grows another inch in the year he’s away from Zalizinch and when he finally goes back, after he hugs Agnessa, she lightly punches his shoulder because she’s mad at him for it. Viktor is also grumpy that he now looks shorter beside the two of them.

[pitofghosts]

Illarion uses big words he doesn’t actually know the meaning of and Agnessa thinks he’s always correct so the two of them are just always spouting off absolute nonsense to each other

[pitofghosts]

This is me experimenting with writing first person. I decided to go with Illarion first because I find he has one of the most distinct voices of any of my characters. This was a lot of fun to write. If you read it and have any feedback I’d love to hear it. 

The most startlin’ part of going from boat to land is the way the land stays sturdy under your feet. You think that’d be the most normal part, having your legs bein’ on something solid, but your knees get used to havin’ to adjust all the time. When they don’t got to no more, when there’s no more sway to bend and buckle to, it’s like when you think there’s one more step than there is and your foot comes down hard. Only it’s with every damn step you take.

The second most startlin’ part is realizing how much you smell like fish, salt, and sea water. It’s easy to forget a smell when you’re surrounded by it, when everything’s coated in the same slime, but the second you take yourself out of it you realize it’s stuck to every inch of hair, skin, and cloth. Now, I’m a clean person. I like keepin’ my skin and hair free of dirt, and I like smellin’ good. I took this cologne from some college brat vacationin’ last summer and let me tell you that it’s done wonders.

I maybe should’ve stopped at the public bath house. I passed it, with all its arched entryways that have the doors removed in the warm months, and I should’ve gone in. But I hardly noticed it. I’m not usually so one-track minded (gotta keep my wits about for any opportunities, can’t afford to focus on just one specialty, y’know?) but all’s I could focus on was gettin’ across Zalizinch, walking passed the damn temple that took up a block and a half on the second tier, and climbing up all those damn stairs until I was finally, finally, finally at the right apartment building.

It was leanin’ west now instead of east. I’d managed to miss some killer storms.

I unlocked the door to the front, went up the rickety stairs - skipped the ones that looked more rotten than the others, I’d broken one too many - and ducked at the hallway so I wouldn’t knock my head. The door to the place was unlocked, somethin’ I wasn’t expecting. That meant Nessa was home, which wasn’t what I was expectin’ on a workday afternoon. It was possible her schedule got shift, I was gone a whiles, but it still wasn’t what I was expectin’.

Went in anyway. Was nothing I could do bout it now.

I especially wasn’t expectin’ to see Viktor sitting on my couch, smoking from that pipe of his. We had a matching set, only difference was he actually used his. Mine was for show, for the aesthetic, for the status symbol of bein’ a man who could afford ofha. Course I wasn’t, not yet, but I would be.

Viktor wasn’t a man who could afford ofha either, but he smoked it anyway.

His eyes flew wide open when he saw me, and I took off my boots while I waited for him to finish coughing. I sent him a bit of a warning and he nodded, made what I’m sure was meant to look apologetic, and put his mouth into his arm.

I might’ve been a clean person but a lot of the company I keep sure ain’t.

“Illarion!”

I made my way to the little kitchenette, bent down to look through the pantry. “That is my name, dear Torya.” Looks like I’d be eating stale crackers. “What are you doing in my house, huh? Nessa here?”

“At work,” he wheezed. Fool was still coughing. “I came over this morning, she said I could stay until she came back if I wanted.”

I brought the paper bag of crackers wth me over to the couch, where I flopped next to Viktor with complete disregard for whether I made him uncomfortable. This was my place that I paid for filled with my things and if Viktor wanted to be here he knew I’d welcome him, but he had to put up with being at my complete mercy. He pulled himself closer to the arm, the couch sunk in the centre like one of Nessa’s deflated breads.

I threw some of the crackers into my mouth. Awful flavour. I couldn’t help but curl my lip at it. “Should I be expectin’ a summer romance between you two?”

“Ilya, we broke up. You know that.”

“You’ll be part of this family some day.”

Viktor snickered, and I knew that sound. I looked at him out the corner of my eye. He took his glasses off - probably most expensive thing I ever spent money on and it wasn’t even for me (least it wasn’t my money) - and cleaned them on his untucked shirt. I knew he was gonna say something punchable. “Maybe we’ve been going at it from the wrong angle.”

“That better not be dirty talk ‘bout my sister.”

“Vikwo, Ilya. It isn’t. Spent a few months at sea and your brain goes straight to the dirty.” Viktor sighed and put his glasses back on. Some of his hair got caught in the arms but he didn’t notice. That was gonna bug me for the rest of the conversation. “No. What I meant was that maybe you trying to get me with your sister is you projecting.”

“Projecting?” I never had half an idea what the hell he was on about. “This isn’t a damn theatre, I’m not yelling.”

Viktor looked at me over his glasses, all fake-annoyance, then he leaned into me and batted his eyelashes. “You sure you aren’t the one who wants to be with me, dear Ilya?”

“You got some pretty rosy cheeks, but that’s ‘bout the only you got.”

“I didn’t know you thought about my cheeks.”

We went on like that, Viktor stupid on his ofha and me tired from working and glad to be home, jokin’ about things that really didn’t matter or even made sense. It was good to be home, good to be back to Zalizinch. I hate this stupid town, city, whatever it is, but the are people. I’m picky with them but there are a few that make this place worthwhile, and being around them is the whole world. 

Viktor asked what I’d been doin’ and I was happy to tell him all about my adventures at sea. I talk with my hands, really get the story going, and Viktor got himself invested. He laughed at the jokes, nodded along. I’m a good storyteller, I know how to grab attention. I talked until I noticed Viktor’d fallen asleep on my arm.

I let him stay there, and once I was done with the disgusting crackers (I’d have to get on Nessa’s case about what she’d been eatin’ while I was away) I decided I should try and sleep, too. I tried not to get too worried about whether or not rent was overdue, whether the Echyet had gone and made more regulations that only equaled more lines and paperwork, whether the markets were still the same or if they’d been gettin’ more scarce. I couldn’t do anything about any of that shit, and eventually I managed to join Viktor in his sleep.

Nessa would be home in a few hours. Time couldn’t go quick enough.

[pitofghosts]

Illarion can’t read so when it comes to reselling train ticket’s he’s scalped (or counterfeit ones some higher up has made) he used to just sell whatever he pulled out of his pocket and hope the other person was ALSO illiterate, but after getting his ass handed to him for that a few times Viktor took pity on him and now they have a system where Illarion will show up to Viktor’s place and Viktor will colour code them with a circle in the corner depending on the ticket’s destination and Illarion has just memorized the colours.

Sometimes as “payment” he brings over some food Agnessa has made; it’s usually 100% inedible. Sometimes he draws something while Viktor does that and sticks it on his wall as payment. On a rare occassion he’ll actually have a little religious trinket or proper gift for him!

Other times he’ll notice a hole in one of Viktor’s clothes and he’ll sigh, walk all the way home and all the way back to get his sewing supplies, and he’ll stitch it up for him.

[pitofghosts]

@woodhouse-jay Family photo ft smug&sly the religion guy