#ilytheia

[inked-foundry]

I had to throw in the towel for tonight because the 23 icons I’ve made so far took me like… 3 hours and I need to go to bed soon. But this is an almost comprehensive list of all my story characters (that I’ve designed so far—some characters are not pictured with their casts due to a lack of design).

If you’re curious about anyone pictured, feel free to ask!

[inked-foundry]

These nerds are Ilytheia and Agape!

[inked-foundry]

Ilytheia?

She may have spun, but the world about her remained a fixed point.

Ilytheia knew this routine by heart. Her eyes may have been closed, but she managed to angle her blades perfectly, reflecting light emanated from its sconces. A foot dragged across the stone floor to halt her. The next movement was upon them—between herself and the queen.

The candlelight flared in intensity. Its warmth flickered behind her eyelids, the heat reaching her very bones. Ilytheia forced herself to ignore the sweat beading along her brow, how ungraceful it was.

She was but the one thing that mattered in this world in that moment. It was not her who was spinning. Rather, she stood atop the world, remaining in place while the globe’s pole turned to her silent beat.

Not even Pakhet existed in this moment.

The dance she had practiced for weeks was over in moments. Only now, the world was allowed back into her mind.

And when she set her hands at her sides as she opened her eyes, Ilytheia was careful to survey Queen Pakhet.

The woman may have been built like a soldier with the scars to match, but mercifully, the corded muscle adapted to a relaxed posture upon her throne. Even her typically braided dark hair had been totally unwound and rested at her knees.

Assurance finally came in the calm smile decorating her face. Eyes like sunsets graced Ilytheia with pride and appreciation.

“Such poise, Ilytheia.” Pakhet rose slowly from her seat, her full height both graceful and intimidating. She sauntered across the hall, at least until she was toe-to-toe with the dancer. “It is rather rewarding to witness you from such close a seat.”

“My pleasure, your Majesty.” Ilytheia didn’t bother hiding her blooming smile.

But it was a struggle to hide her blush, Pakhet tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “No. It was my pleasure to host you.”

“Pakhet,” Ilytheia laughed. A full and raucous laugh. “Is this formality really necessary?”

“Not quite,” Pakhet mused. Without bothering to look, she waved a hand down the length of the room, and the candles flickered out with the motion. Some natural light filtered in through the shaded windows. “I merely enjoy treating each encounter as if it were as unique as the first.”

“You’re as romantic as you are ruthless,” Ilytheia chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“Children of Hylos aren’t violent. Only passionate.” And without another word, Pakhet leaned over, cusped Ilytheia’s jaw in her hand, and pressed a kiss to the preformer’s cheek.