Okay so this is a huge mess, but I drew my new KC. I was going to play a shifter, BUT the idea of shipping a witch with Ulbrig is *chefs kiss* perfect so here's Aldis, my tiefling witch uwu
I didn't do a full body for this because I couldn't figure out a pose or what she'd be wearing under the poncho but!!! here's frosty Aldis. She's definitely the queen of layers and bundles up in dyed wool and furs. She probably brought a lot of her winter clothes from the Land of the Linnorm Kings, and when it gets cold enough to warrant them she jumps at the chance to dress up in them.
My bestie is a Marilyn Monroe Expert™️so I had her pick out some Marilyn Monroe outfits for me to pick from, and I went with this really cute blue one?? <33 I feel like Aldis would be such a Marilyn fan irl honestly
Also roller curls are so hard to draw well, but Aldis with roller curls is the light of my life
Multiple references used but a lot of liberties taken btw heheh
“You’re dozing off little witch,” Ulbrig hums, rough fingers slipping through Aldis’s hair with a charming delicacy that the casual observer would find out of place coming from a man of his size and strength.
“Mm?” Aldis responds drowsily, blinking up at him.
They’re on the thick, plush rug on the floor of their home in Gundrun, a fire crackling in the hearth, the smell of the stew Ulbrig had made permeating the air along with the smell of the bread that Aldis had tried to bake. The slightly older human grins down at her, smile warm and inviting, almost like he wants Aldis to fall asleep again. She shifts, pushing a pillow out from beneath her shoulder, raising her head up off of Ulbrig’s lap.
“You fell asleep,” he repeats, releasing his light hold on her hair. He lowers his hand, caressing her cheek then coming to rest on her chin, tilting her head up so that their eyes meet. “You were talking.”
“Oh Desna, no,” Aldis breathes out quickly, sitting bolt upright. “You’re kidding, what did I say?”
“You were complaining, mostly,” the bear of a man laughs (or would he be a griffon of a man, Aldis wonders). “You’re cold. I wanted to get you a blanket, but I couldn’t stand the thought of waking you. Until now, I mean,” he adds almost apologetically–almost.
“Oh? Had a change of heart then?”
“I can’t let you get too much beauty sleep darling, you’re bewitching enough without it.”
Aldis smiles, leans in and tilts her head up, presses her lips to Ulbrig’s lightly, briefly. A soft laugh rises in his chest as he pulls her into his arms, moving her so that her smaller body rests neatly on his lap. He leans in as well, kissing her forehead–the closest part of her face to him. Aldis breathes a soft ‘mm’ before leaning in again and resting her head on his chest. The steady thump of his heart beneath his chest (soft and warm and firm all at once) comforts her, draws her in closer to his warmth, his comfort.
Ulbrig squeezes her lightly in his arms. It’s such a small action, but it’s one that Aldis has grown to love. Not quite a hug, mostly just a tension in his body when he holds her like this, but not so dissimilar either. Aldis relaxes, her own body losing any tension she’d been inadvertently holding, as Ulbrig lifts her into his arms and stands, carrying her to their bed. He tucks a feather into her hair (and where had he gotten that, she wonders, she’s usually on top of keeping feathers out of the house for him), and rests a hand on her shoulder for a moment.
“Rest. You could stand to be less of a pesky little oglin about it though,” he murmurs slyly, pulling their blanket up over her–which she proceeds to greedily tuck around her, cocooning herself in the burgundy wool.
“But I enjoy being a pesky little oglin about everything,” she pouts back playfully.
“Well complain less then,” he laughs back. “I’m going to clean up, I’ll join you soon,” he promises.
Aldis is asleep again before he can fulfill that promise.
Sorry for the wait and sorry this is so long and mostly uneventful but I have a second part started already heheh
It was originally going to be a little red riding hood au thing but it's only barely that now? It's fine, it's fine, it's just fluff
Herbal Remedies
Ship: Ulbrig Olesk x Aldis (AU)
Tags: Fluff, a little spooky stuff, very slow burn (nothing really happens yet but it's fine)
Words: 1563
The path ahead of Aldis is clear and maintained, the dirt road edged with cloudberries, mint, lichen and moss covered boulders, and the tracks of little animals that have made their way through the woods before her and who’ll come scurrying back after her. Birdsong punctuates the pleasant breeze that sweeps through the trees, the air is crisp and clear, and puffy white clouds roll lazily across the bright blue sky through the pines overhead.
Aldis leans down on the side of the path, bending at the waist to pluck handfuls of mint growing wildly on the side of the road. Good for anxiety, stomach aches, insomnia, she thinks, cool blue eyes looking over the other herbs growing nearby, just further off the road. She tucks the fistfuls of mint into a wicker basket hanging lazily in the crook of her arm, the leaves and broken stems staining the white cloth inside slightly. It doesn’t bother her. She follows the wild herbs, foraging through them. Ground ivy for colds, wood nettle for allergies and teas, linden blossoms and hawthorn and juniper and wild garlic and flowers and roots and sweet cloudberries all make their way into her basket, ready to be used in tinctures and teas and poultices. It’s not magic, not really, but it’s all useful in its own way–especially when made with love and care.
She turns, starts to head back towards the path. It’s only when she’s been walking for a good 15 minutes that she realizes she’s lost. She doesn’t think that she’d wandered off the path that far, surely she just needs to retrace her steps, make her way back to the last landmark she remembers–but what landmarks are there really in a swath of wild herbs? She sees a patch of mint that’s been picked over already, did she do that? She takes a different direction from there this time. She still can’t find the road. She stops then, looking around, turning in place. The trees all look the same, maybe denser now, darker, brambles twisting and twining at their bases and catching on the hem of her dress as she turns. Had there been brambles before? She doesn’t remember seeing them, at least.
The air feels colder here, on the bitter end of crisp, she pulls her cloak up tighter around her neck and pulls her hood over her head, fitting her horns carefully through holes in the fabric. The soft mint-green fabric hangs in folds around her head and shoulders and billows out behind her in a sudden gust of wind that manages to make its way through the trees. She should have brought a guard with her. She can manage on her own usually, and usually Freyr insists that she bring someone with her when she goes on these little walks, but she’d managed to slip out on her own without an escort today. She’s a witch–even if Freyr doesn’t know that little fact about her–and she can handle herself just fine.
She feels the tips of her fingers tingle with frost as she prepares a spell. She doesn’t feel like she’s alone anymore. She knows this feeling. She turns again, brambles clinging and tearing at her dress, and sees a wall of white fog behind her. Shapes move in the fog, looming, massive but almost fluid in the grace with which they seem to phase in and out of existence in the thick fog. She hears a dry rattling sound, like dry sticks clacking against each other. The world around her starts to swim, and she feels like she might pass out, the corners of her vision starting to go black. A shape starts to emerge from the fog, tall and lean, an elk–
She turns and runs. Her dress and cloak snag and tear on the brambles around her, branches whipping at her face and arms and chest as she sprints through the woods away from it. She knows what it is, she owes everything to it, but she doesn’t want to face it. She runs until her lungs burn and her legs grow nearly too weak to stand, and when she finally collapses it’s nearing dark and she’s even more lost than she was before. Dark, quiet voices whisper in the trees, and the fog she’d so desperately been trying to outrun starts to filter into the clearing she lies in, and her heart races still even if she can’t even muster up the strength to drag herself away from all of it.
Aldis manages to prop herself up slightly with her back against the stump of a fallen tree, every breath dragging itself out of her lungs like knives against flesh and her vision begins to swim again. She squeezes her eyes shut, fear overtaking her and resigning her to flee in the only way she can now–by just not seeing what the beast will do to her.
The voices stop abruptly, and a warmth seeps into her chilled body. Birdsong returns to the woods (she hadn’t really noticed its absence until now). When she opens her eyes, a man is there, crouched in front of her, a hand outstretched and nearly brushing her cheek. She flinches back, thwacking the back of her head against the stump. Apparently, she does it with enough force to knock herself out cold.
When Aldis wakes up, it’s somewhere warm and comfortable–a bed that practically swallows her up, lined with furs and heavy quilts and plush pillows and more than a few large feathers. She sits up slowly, a hand coming up to caress the back of her head where a dull throbbing pain radiates out. The smell of woodsmoke and fresh bread fills the air, along with something unplaceable but distinctly masculine.
The room is comfortable, small with walls of cobbled stone and wood, a high arching ceiling with exposed beams above her, a large window in the roof letting in natural light–from a sunset. Or a sunrise, she can’t tell, but either would mean that she’s been here for far too long. Aldis sits up fully, swinging her legs out off the side of the bed, in time for the wooden front door to swing open and a hulking figure to enter.
Aldis tenses on the bed where she sits, blue eyes growing wide at the sight of the imposing man as he enters, his frame filling the doorway and his head tilting down just slightly to clear the top of it. When he straightens up inside and notices her awake, he smiles warmly.
“Didn’t mean to frighten you like that,” he says sheepishly, warm, slightly gruff voice filling the space between them.
“You didn’t,” she starts, noting the pitying look he casts at her. “I mean you did, but I was frightened already.”
He sets a bundle of firewood down by the hearth and approaches her. “What frightened you then?” There’s a hint of relief in his voice, the corners of his eyes crinkling faintly with a small smile.
Aldis stares up at him for a moment, then releases a breath. “Ijiraq,” she explains. “I ran into one years ago and it’s never very far away now it seems.”
His smile fades almost instantly. “So you’ve been cursed then,” he says, voice low and serious now, all warmth gone from it.
“Something like that. If you could point me in the direction of the road though, I can be out of your hair–you won’t have to deal with my curse at all, I assure you.”
He waves a hand, turning and crossing the room to a shelf lined with little trinkets. “Nonsense,” he says, large hands grasping a small wooden effigy. He spits on it, then rubs his saliva into the wood with the hem of his shirt. “This should help just fine.”
Aldis takes the effigy between two fingers, holding it out away from herself slightly. “Oh! Is this… Is this magic?” She asks, feigning curiosity. She’s familiar enough with ‘folk magic’, and more palatable kinds of magic like that. She always claims to partake in that, not in the witchcraft actually practices. Better to be safe than burned at the stake, after all.
“Nah, not exactly,” he replies, cheeks flushing slightly. “But it’s better than magic anyway. I can walk you back to the path too, if you’d like,” he offers, extending a hand out towards her. “Ulbrig Olesk.”
Aldis takes his hand gently, about to let him kiss it–like most men would–but instead he gives it a firm shake that requires movement from her entire arm.
“Aldis Monstad,” she replies, smiling broadly up at him. He helps her to her feet, and leads her towards the door.
“Well, miss Monstad, let’s get you home.”
The walk back to the path is uneventful, and the walk back to civilization is even more boring once Aldis is alone again. She’d invited Ulbrig to town with her, she’d like to treat him to a warm dinner at the inn at least, but he declines.
She carries the effigy tucked in a pocket on her dress, fingers prodding at it lightly as she walks. It’s useless, apart from reminding her of the gentle mountain of a man who took her in and saved her–but in that way, it’s priceless to her. After all, how hard would it be to get lost again?
