#emblyn

[adozentothedawn]

Got tagged by @dragonologist-phd and by @solas-backpack-mug to make some picures with this picrew a bit ago and frankly I kinda forgot but here I am! Have Favaen and Emblyn and also my new Pathfinder character, Aegis! He is an Abadar obedience champion and a bit fucked up from some childhood trauma.

More Aegis pictures under the cut because I couldn't give him his signature heterochromia in that picrew.

[cobaltash]

I’m in the mood for some fancy dresses…

... and @yanara126 gave me leave to dress up the gorgeous Emblyn! Thank you for playing!

[yanara126-writing]

foreign memories

Sometimes Waidwen dreams and remembers things he’s never seen. Sometimes it’s a person.

- 

Read here or on Ao3. (1201 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

Waidwen doesn’t dream often anymore. Eothas keeps most of the nightmare away, and normal dreams he’s never been good at remembering. But sometimes… sometimes he’ll dream like he never has before. He sees people, buildings, places that look alien to him. Strange structures built of adra, copper and marble, clothes that look like nothing he’s ever seen. Those dreams feel strange. They’ll stay with him, refusing to vanish into oblivion, and instead burying themselves into his mind until he thinks it’s been real.

It isn’t unpleasant per se, it doesn’t hurt, and they are never awful things, just ordinary people doing ordinary things while looking strange. But then… There are other dreams as well. They have the same backdrop, the same odd buildings and clothes, but they are focused on a person, an elven woman.  She has jet black hair that’s spilling over her shoulders hardly ever contained, delicate features, and pale green eyes. Her clothes are usually far more ornate than most of the other people he sees, but sometimes they are more practical, and she looks younger.

In the beginning he didn’t care much. He’s asked Eothas about the dreams once, but the god seemed honestly surprised, and so Waidwen hasn’t asked again. But the woman keeps appearing, and with every appearance her picture becomes a little bit more tainted with emotions that he knows aren’t his. Most of all it is a familiar fondness, one he’s come to cherish quietly. It is thankfulness, though for what Waidwen doesn’t know. But it is also sadness. A deep underlying sadness, that becomes more and more prevalent with each night.

Waidwen doesn’t know this woman, but by now he is sure that Eothas once has. And though he has never seen how her story ended, he has the impression it wasn’t good. He has yet to ask Eothas about her, and for once it isn’t because he fears retribution, but because he doesn’t want to hurt someone with his words.

But something has to be done, both for his own sanity and Eothas’…

 “You want me to draw a woman from your description?” Waidwen can feel Mani’s doubting glare and regrets nothing.

“Yep.” Two gazes meet, one unapologetic, the other annoyed, and both unrelenting.

“First of all, why me? I’m certain there a number of artists who would jump at each other’s throats for a commission from you, and also why can’t you just bring her around? I can’t imagine anyone would be shy about the Divine King wanting a portrait of them.”

“Because I’m pretty sure she’s dead.” Mani starts and Waidwen grins. It seems like he’s won that round.

“Why do you want a picture from a dead woman? And why don’t you know if she’s dead?” The appalled tone of the question serves only to amuse Waidwen even further, though the question itself causes Waidwen’s feeling of victory to fade somewhat again. He frowns. It is certainly a fair question, but not one easily answered.

It takes many words and minutes, some disbelieving stares from Mani, and a lot of general confusion, but in the end Mani agrees. They spend some from their schedules scraped together hours sitting in Waidwen’s chambers for privacy, Mani sitting at the desk over a piece of parchment, and Waidwen crouched on a chair behind him, always glancing over his shoulder. Most of the time is spent in silence, the quiet only interrupted by Waidwen’s descriptions and Mani’s occasional complaints about having to work with only vague notions.

The result is better than Waidwen expected. Though it is colourless, it lookes almost identical to the woman in his dreams, draped in her more ornate attire and gazing serenely out of the picture. It is captivating in its beauty, and Waidwen finds himself staring at it. Somewhere at the edge of his consciousness he hears something that sounds suspiciously like grumbling about how he shouldn’t act so surprised, but when he can finally tear himself away from the picture Mani is already gone.

That causes him a slight bit of guilt, but it isn’t like Mani is just going to vanish from now on. He’ll make sure to thank him later.

Treating the delicate parchment as careful as possible, he sticks it in a pocket and pulls over a dark cloak, that will hide him better in the slowly falling darkness than his usual clothes. He doesn’t worry about being stopped too much, he doesn’t even intend to leave the property, and so leaves it open to avoid seeming too suspicious.

His soft soles make hardly a sound on stone floor of the halls and later the ground of the courtyard, and so he quickly makes his way to the other side of the complex, far in back of the vast gardens within the wall. There, right at the wall, is a tiny little chapel, hardly more than a hut really, with crumbling walls and a leaking roof. He found it not long after the coup, when he was overwhelmed by all the people and fled to the solitude of the garden. It already looked abandoned for a few years at that point, and so it became his secret refuge. He’s done a little work repairing it, but time isn’t really on his side, and so he hasn’t made much progress. But it’s enough for this purpose.

Carefully he pushes inside, taking care not to accidentally break the door in the process. Inside he gently puts the picture down on the tiny altar, leaning it against the back wall. He grabs one of the candles from the side, puts it down in front of the picture, and lights it, careful not to damage the picture behind it. The candles he hasn’t brought himself, they just simply appeared there one day, which made him quite paranoid for a while about who had discovered his little nook. Since nothing  has happened since then, and the little chapel has yet to be swarmed with servants insisting that they clean it up for him, his guess is that it had been Broder who found it, and that he deemed it safe enough.

Once he’s prepared the little memorial, he sits down on the floor in front of it, takes a deep breath, and pokes the entity in the back of his head, that has yet to react to his latest plot, either busy with something else or too confused about it.

It seems to be the former option, as Eothas inched closer to the surface of Waidwen’s consciousness and surprise filteres through. Surprise, confusion, sadness, and after that a spark of thankfulness.

I wasn’t aware you’d seen that much. I apologize.

“It wasn’t all that much, but I can guess what happened.” They share the silence for a while, the only light being the flickering candle, and a soft shimmer from himself. The dim light lets the dark strokes on the parchment seem even harsher against the light backdrop and the flickering makes her seem almost alive.

“Do you want to tell me about her?” Hesitation is the immediate response, but the feeling quickly softens as the candle burns a little brighter.

I think I would like that.

[emily-barker]

The Witchwood

Deep in the maze of gnarled black trees, there was no telling summer from winter. The sun seldom permeated the cloud layer, let alone the web of branches. A blanket of fog hovered above the leaf-littered earth, and the air was no warmer than the damp soil beneath. On her knees, Emily clawed through her neglected garden, carelessly chucking dead plants and stray rocks over her shoulder. Despite the damage, she was able to salvage at least one or two specimens of nearly everything, which she arranged in a cloth-lined wicker basket.

The wood was quiet, almost silent, the crackle of dessicated plants and the sound of soil being disturbed echoing through the boughs. Emily could hear her own breath as she worked - her own heart, if she stopped working. Many would be uncomfortable in such profound quiet, but for her, it was normal, if not necessarily peaceful. Familiarity triggered memories, and there was never any telling which ones.

Behind her were the remains of the family cottage, spared by all but time and the forest itself. The exterior was overgrown, and the door threatened to fall from its hinges. If one were to enter, they'd immediately see the damage caused by a leaky roof; if not for the foliage outside, they'd smell the mildew sooner. Emily had contemplated restoring it, but didn't know the first thing about how to.

She stopped abruptly upon hearing something.

(( @emblyn-ruane ))

[adozentothedawn]

Took me multiple days, but I have committed an art. It's an illustration for this fic of mine and making it has driven me insane. Anyway, hope you like it because I spent so much time on this just trying to learn the program and getting it to cooperate, aside from just generally not really knowing how to draw things. But honestly I think it came out well! At the very least I learned some things about art which is nice.

[adozentothedawn]

I’ve been seeing this new picrew going around the fandom, and it’s really cute! Even my more difficut children are doable here, which is very nice. In order:

Watcher Francesca de Luca (Pillars of Eternity): half wood elf/half pale elf, ranger, mercenary

Watcher Favaen (Pillars of Eternity): wood elf, priestess of Eothas, clergy

Watcher Hildraed Dawnsbane (Pillars of Eternity): savannah folk, chanter, pirate

Emblyn ix Ensios (Pillars of Eternity): wood elf, priestess of Eothas (Engwithan Era), clergy

Mani Thilion fan Fürst (Pillars of Eternity): moon godlike with wood elf background, chanter, noble (Readceras Era, one of my problem children because horns)

Broder Tavai (Pillars of Eternity): half savannah folk/half meadow folk, fighter/paladin, mercenary (Readceras Era)

Baroness Tamary (Pathfinder Kingmaker): aasimar with human background, bard, noble

General Bator (Pathfinder Kingmaker): tiefling with human background, paladin of Iomedae, orphan (the other one of my problem children because, again, horns)

As always, if you find any of them interesting, please ask me about them.^^ I just need questions to actually be able to talk about them.^^° You can also use any of the ask games I reblogged, they’re tagged with asks and tags, just specify which one you mean or just put the actual question there. :D 

[adozentothedawn]

Picrew time for my ladies! No lads though, I didn’t like the way they turned out. In order:

Pillars of Eternity

Watcher Favaen, wood elven Eothas priestess, cleric from Aedyr

Inquisitor Emblyn, wood elven Eothas priesstess and Favaen’s last incarnation from Engwith

Watcher Francesca, wood elven Ranger, mercenary from Old Vailia

Watcher Hildraed, savannah folk Chanter, farmer from Readceras then pirate and later from Deadfire

Pathfinder Kingmaker

Baroness/Queen Tamary, aasimar Bard

General Bator, tiefling Paladin of Iomedae (the diadem was a gift from Tamary) (also thank you @risualto who’s answer to an ask made Bator from a character I wanted to romance Maegar Varn with into an actual person!)

[adozentothedawn]

I was tagged by @serenbach86 and @haledamage to make my babies in this cure picrew. In order: Watcher Favaen, Watcher Francesca, Sir Broder, Inquistor Emblyn, and Queen Tamary. Thanks for the tag! :D

I think everyone of my mutuals who I know do this sort of thing have been tagged already, so I won’t throw any specific ones out there, but if you see this and would like to do it feel free to tag me in the post, I’d love to see yours.^^