Character design for @blastiax of his character Lilith! I had so much fun with this dude i'm so glad you like it <3 The duel palettes was an interesting challenge and i’m really happy with the end results :3c
blastiax replied to your post: man…i hate the voltron fandom
The fandom is the biggest reason I’ve avoided the show
i dont blame you tbh. like...i get that you can stay out of a fandom and enjoy it in your own terms, and that your fandom experience is tailored to who you follow and what content you seek out, but voltron’s fandom is. hm.
to @blastiax a brief story of Raven before he was Raven, based heavily on the first few chapters of Empty Mask. I hope you like it, and I hope you have a happy holiday!
also, bonus content, the thing that almost killed me (I gotta say, Raven fucking fought with me the entire month, I don’t think I’m meant to write him, haha)
“So this’ll be your first New Year in the Capitol, Damuran?” Samaras smirked at him from over the giant sack of potatoes he’d just thrown into the back of the cart. Casey had ordered them to fill it and take down to the Lower Quarters, and it was nearly ready to go.
Damuron grunted as he hefted his own burden, a sack of mixed grains, and heaved it into the cart. “Yeah.” He looked out over the courtyard of the Knights’ Baracks and sighed. “Can’t believe it’s already been nine months since I got to Zaphias.”
“You’ll have to tell us how the festivities compare, then,” Casey said as she swept into the courtyard and loaded a sack of carrots into the cart. “Granted, what we do in this Brigade is a bit different from most of the other platoons. After we deliver these goods to Hanks in the Lower Quarter, we’ll go on to help him with the set up in the central square. Once that is complete, and if time allows, we may do a hunt to ensure they have fresh meat for the celebrations. At sundown we’ll return to the central square and help provide security to ensure the revelries don’t get out of hand.”
Damuron gave a half hearted groan and slumped against the cart. He took his role as designated complainer seriously, after all. “Aw man, we gotta do work on New Year’s Eve? When does the party start for us?”
“Buck up, kiddo,” Gaiman said as he staggered into the courtyard, shoulders draped with two more massive sacks of produce. He shrugged them off into the cart and then gave Damuran a hearty slap on the shoulder. “The party’s for them, but we’ll have fun too, I guarantee it.”
Hiethum arrived with the last of the supplies, a sack of onions and another of garlic cloves, which he set behind the driver’s seat to keep it from getting crushed. “The Casey Brigade has been supplying the Lower Quarters with their New Year’s Feast for several years now, and it has become far more of a celebration for all of us than an event where we have to be on our guard. Don’t worry, Damuron, they know how to ring in a New Year with style. I guarantee this will be nothing like a stuffy noble feast.”
With that, Hiethum climbed up into the driver’s seat and offered a hand to Casey. She took it with a small smile and allowed him to pull her up. As she settled into the seat, she called out, “Alright, men, fall in.”
*
Damuron had to hand it to the rest of the guys in the platoon: they knew how to set up that central square fast. Under Hanks and Casey’s astute direction, the square was swept, stalls set up and stocked, tables and benches assembled in neat, orderly rows and an area cleared for dancing later in the evening. It was only early afternoon when they finished, and Casey declared there was time enough for a hunt if they stayed within an hour’s march of the barrier.
The hunting so close to the city would usually be slim pickings, but monster activity had been gradually increasing in the area. The knights were able to bring back enough to supply the Lower Quarters for a couple weeks including the New Year’s Feast, and Damuron couldn’t hold back a frisson of unease as he stood near the head of the line surveying their take. Casey seemed pleased, and he tried to let that be all that mattered.
Several carts worth of various beasts were loaded up and taken to the butchery for dressing before the platoon was dismissed and given an hour of leisure before returning to the Lower Quarters. Casey stood at the head, delivering her orders.
“. . . Archer, Fletch, you’re assigned to the med station. Biggs, Wedge, the fountain area. Gaiman, Samaras, top gate. Hiethum, Damuron,” he thought she gave a flicker of a smile as she glanced towards them, “command station with me. Minimum armor, small arms only. Those of you on second watch may rest or celebrate at your leisure, but be prepared and ready for duty at midnight. Those on first watch, convene at your posts by the evening bell. Until then you are dismissed, though I suggest we all bathe at some point,” she added with a wrinkled nose. There was a smattering of chuckles as the ranks broke up, the knights of the platoon breaking into smaller groups as they made their way up to the noble quarters.
Damuron, naturally, fell in with Casey as she marched up the ramp. “So . . . what can I expect from tonight, just to be clear.”
She smirked at him as Samaras and Gaiman trotted up to her other side. “Tonight you can expect to see how the other half live,” she replied. “I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of revels in your time slumming it up with your old platoon, but I can assure you, that is nothing like what you’ll see when the people are genuinely happy and celebrating.”
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
“It ain’t gonna be like a bar crawl,” Gaiman chimed in, grinning. “I’m not sure what kind of New Year’s Feast you’ve been to, but it’s another thing entirely down in the Lower Quarters.”
Damuron’s memory flashed to the New Year’s Feast held in Farryheid. He’d never been to the commoners’ feast, but the one his father held for the nobles of the city was always staid, stiff and proper much like the old man. Sure, the later in the night it got the louder it got, but he would hardly call it ‘revelry’. “So what, there’s going to be drinking, dancing?”
“And fireworks.” Samaras’s eyes lit up. “Of course those are set off by the nobles usually, but you can see them just fine from the central square. That’s when the party’ll really start.”
“Uh. Huh. And we just, what, stand and watch? Sounds like a party to me.”
“Don’t worry, Damuron.” Casey smiled at him. “If you’re invited to dance, certainly you can accept. We’re on duty, but part of that duty is to foster good relations with the people of the Lower Quarters. Be respectful, break up fights, keep watch for trouble, but also talk to the people, find out their concerns and worries for the new year, and reassure them that we are always on their side as true and righteous guardians of the people.”
“By dancing with them when they ask?” He had a hard time keeping the disbelief from his voice.
“By being there for them when they need us.” She smiled at him before turning and striding ahead. “Now it’s time to get ready.”
*
Damuran watched as the same two mismatched kids tore through the central square again, this time the blond chasing the dark haired kid while shouting. They were by far the rowdiest of the pack of children swarming the square, and it made him feel exhausted just watching as they dodged through the crowds of happy revelers.
He had been standing at the command post for over an hour now, watching Casey work her magic. She chatted happily with Hanks and the other Lower Quarter community leaders, helping with last minute set up as garlands of dried flowers and leaves were strung up around the square, the final garnishes placed on the long low tables holding the Feast, and barrels rolled to the stands and tapped. The other members of the platoon were scattered throughout the square as well, talking and helping as they mingled with the crowd.
Casey was right. It was much less like guard duty than it sounded. As the newest recruit, though, Damuron was still a relative unknown, and so was left pretty much alone.
He blinked as a hush finally went through the crowd. Hanks had climbed up onto the low dais set for the musicians, and was making a speech.
“Now we lay the old year down to rest,” Hanks began with the traditional New Year’s tidings. “Welcoming and blessing the new so that it may begin with good cheer.” He took a deep breath, and Damuron prepared to settle in for a long and boring sermon of the type his father and the other leaders of Farryheid generally gave. “We remember those who have passed and prepare spaces for those who will join us. May we leave our troubles behind in the old year and ready ourselves for new ones, and carry our joys forward so that they may guide us to happiness in the New Year.” He paused. “Alright, let’s eat.”
With that, the crowd began chattering and lining up at the tables.
“So what did you think?” Hiethum asked, grinning as he watched Damuron jerk in surprise at how short the New Year’s Tidings had been.
“Ah, it was nice,” he said. “Good. I mean usually these things just go on and on.”
“Yeah, Hanks is good at being concise,” Hiethum agreed. He smiled as a woman cheerfully greeted him by name and offered him a plate of food. “I definitely prefer it to what goes on up top. Just think if we had to guard a Noble celebration. The Chancellor's speech is probably going to last another hour.”
“Hmm.” Damuron blankly took his own plate of food, offered by a smiling granny who also somehow knew his name. The woman pinched his cheek before trotting off, corralling several children and herding them toward a table. “That’s probably the shortest speech I’ve ever heard. Think the nobles would be willing to take lessons in precision speechmaking?”
Hiethum gave a barking laugh, shaking his head.
The feasting itself lasted for about an hour, the people growing rowdier as the night went on and the wine and spirits flowed freely, but never to the point where the knights had to intervene. Occasionally one reveler or another would offer Damuron and Hiethum a beverage, but they always declined and instead toasted them with the watered down mead supplied by the knights’ command: festive enough but not so strong as to impair them in their duties.
Casey never seemed to stop for long in one place. Damuron watched as the light from the bonfire glinted in her dark hair across the plaza by the steps to Hanks’ inn, and flicker across her animated face as she stopped to speak with the knights manning the first aid station, and saw her disappear into the shadows that fell near the street leading past the gates. She seemed to be everywhere, and know everyone, and if he waited for her glancing smile with every breath, he knew he wasn’t the only one.
At some point, a signal seemed to ripple through the crowd, and the feast was cleared away to widen the dancing area while musicians filtered out and onto the dais, setting up an odd array of instruments. Damuron saw several guitars, a well worn fiddle, numerous pipes of varying types, and several large kettle drums make their way to the stage.
Casey, on one of her circuits through the crowd, noted his interest. “The signal for dancing is the nobles’ fireworks display,” she said over the noise of tuning instruments and moving furniture.
“The view isn’t the best from down here but it’s enough to get the party started,” Hiethum added.
Casey smirked and propped one hand on her hip. “The fireworks might not be the clearest, but this is the best view I can imagine,” she replied. “People happy and safe with their family and friends. This is what I joined the knighthood to safeguard.”
Hiethum ducked his head, a fond smile flashing across his face before he muffled it under his usual stoic expression. “Of course, Lieutenant. The fireworks are less important anyway.”
Damuron looked from one to the other. “Well, it’s definitely going to be different from Farryheid,” he said. “We never did have fireworks out there.”
The mood between the other two broke, and Casey turned to him. “Then you’ll definitely enjoy them. Everyone should see fireworks at least once in their life.”
Hiethum clapped him on the back. “Unless I miss my guess, the best view is going to be over by the fountain, if you want to duck over for a bit when they start.”
“Sure,” Damuron said.
Casey smiled at both of them and moved on, heading over to Hanks again. The next ten minutes almost seemed to drag as Damuron and Hiethum stood together in an awkward silence. Damuron wasn’t sure he saw what he thought he saw, and he had no claim even if he had seen what he thought, and he wasn’t, he didn’t, she deserved better than him anyway, he--
A high whistle and a thunderous bang echoed over the plaza, silencing the crowd and making Damuron jerk back with a surprised shout. He looked up, following the gazes of the people in the crowd, and gaped at the falling bright sparks of fire in the sky.
“They’re starting!” Hiethum smacked him in the shoulder. “Get out there, kid, you’ll barely even be able to see them from here.”
As if summoned by Hiethum’s parting blow, Casey appeared in front of him and grabbed him by the wrist. “Come on, you’ll miss it,” she exclaimed, tugging him along. Her eyes were lit with a childish glee as she pulled him over to the fountain and spun him around, pointing up to where more explosions caused more showers of sparks to fly across the sky. “Isn’t it amazing?”
“Oh yeah,” he replied, and he hated himself for the cliche, but he wasn’t looking at the sky. The blue and red and green lights of the fireworks traced enchanting lights through Casey’s hair and alluring shadows across her face, and when she turned to look at him, it took all his willpower to stay still.
She rolled her eyes at him. “Turn the charm off and look at the fireworks, Damuron,” she said, elbowing him in the ribs.
“Right,” he wheezed, only half in play. She had some sharp armor on those elbows.
He turned and watched the sky. It was, in fact, amazing.
Too soon, the fireworks ended in one final extravagant blast, and a cheer went up from the people of the Lower Quarters. Immediately, the band that had assembled itself struck up a rousing tune. Casey grinned at him again as he turned his attention back to her. “This is the part where they dance til dawn,” she called out. “The second watch will be coming down soon, and when they relieve you, you can return to your barracks, or stay if you wish.”
“Right.” The happiness and excitement was still shining in her eyes.
“But for now, back to your post!” She flipped him a salute and a cheeky grin when he automatically snapped to attention. The swirling crowd pulled her away again, and he ducked past several dancers already enthusiastically throwing themselves into the rhythm to return to the command center.
“Not bad, huh,” Hiethum greeted him.
“Not bad at all,” Damuron agreed.
The next hour passed in a blur, and when the second watch came in to dismiss them, Damuron greeted them with relief. He could barely believe it, but he was thinking of his bunk with barely contained longing, the excitement of the revelers having worn him near through.
The dancers in the square had given up their more studied dances, and were now simply spinning and jumping as the rhythm moved them. Weaving through them was a chain of people all holding arms and laughing as they pulled themselves along. Damuron’s steps faltered as he caught sight of a familiar length of hair and blue uniform jacket slide by in the line. Casey’s face was lit with happiness as the people embraced her and made her part of their dance, and he could only stand and watch as the tail end of the line whipped around and caught up Hiethum in its length. He thought he spotted several other members of the platoon being pulled along as well, Samaras and Gaiman locked at the elbows between the old granny that had offered Damuron food earlier and a younger man who barely looked old enough to be awake so late, the two who had manned the medical station further up, another two or three familiar faces flashing by as they wound their way around the square.
Damuron stood at the edge, and watched them dance for a long while before his feet eventually lead him away.
