#nythanor

[ifeelsixfeettall]

It’s like reverse-kindness.

[ifeelsixfeettall]

Points if you get the reference.

[ferroh-art]

Today on partially finished GW2 art I should have spent more time on: 

Have a dump of old things from over the last year. I’ve improved at painting digitally a lot during this time, and these are from different points in that chronology.

lady-scarlett-brookes oh hey it’s you

[nythanor]

(( Some six months later I bring you a different take on the same GW2 character that I painted here. This is Nyth, my main RP character, and still painted by yours truly. ))

[ciaranthered]

Thoughts

I’m fucked up.

Ciaran sits against one of the cabinet doors in the kitchen, glass and ceramics shattered all around him. He grips his right wrist, the hand attached to it oozing sap slowly from a number of gashes, some with glass still lodged inside them. Yellow eyes stare listlessly as the sap accumulates in a golden puddle on the floor between his spread legs.

I’m in love. It’s a pattern with me. By all accounts though, this love isn’t so bad - even if it isn’t fully requited.

Aedras worries. I can’t blame him. Nythanor is not a kind soul. Softness is not in his nature...but I’ve always had an attraction to danger. To the unknown. Make no mistake, he -is- an unknown - even to me. Especially to me.

Ciaran lifts his head, his uninjured hand fetch the cigarette he tucked behind one ear. He winces as the injured one strikes a match, setting the end of the cigarette alight as he takes a long drag on it. Smoke rings drift around his head in the small room as he leans back, leafy hair crumpling against the wood of the cabinet as he closes his eyes.

I love him, but I don’t really -know- him, fully. Not the way some do. Like Payton seems to, or Scarlett, or even Vierdra. But I want to.

Is it bad that I’m content? He may not love me like I do him, but at least I have a space in his heart, beside these others. 

Pain with pleasure. A masochist, in every sense of the word.

The golden eyes open, heavy lidded, clouded with memories that seem to drift forward through the tobacco smoke. A flash of white bark, a confident smirk - darkness and thorns. A gentle hand brushing his cheek, a deep, rolling baritone that inspired all in range to hold and -listen-.

They aren’t the same, but I’d be a fool not to see the similarities. Yet, I do not fear him, like I do the other.

I’m fucked up. But so is he. All of us, really- a band of misfits, finding solace in the acceptance of our fellow broken souls.

The duskbloom smirks, letting smoke fall from between his lips. Surveying the remains of the dishes and cabinet glass around him, he sighs faintly, hauling himself to his feet. A few moments later, the tinkling, clattering sound of ceramic and glass chips being swept across wood floor fills the room, smoke still hanging in the air.

We needed new dishes anyway.

[ciaranthered]

Letters to Rehab

1st of Phoenix, 1328 AE

Dear Nythanor,

It’s been a while, hasn't it? I was hurt and a bit angry, when you said I couldn't visit, though I know why you don’t want me there. You hate being seen at anything less than your best. And maybe it would be a waste, if you’re coming home soon. Are you? I miss you.

Still, even now, you’re stronger than me. I’m a bit of a wreck. I don’t sleep at home anymore - I don’t really sleep much at all, but I get some hours in every so often. Naed makes sure I eat, though it’s hard for him with his job and me being over at the workshop all the time. I just....every time I’m home I have a compulsion to scrub everything, even though it’s already cleaned. I want it to be nice when you get back. Shana said I’d risk wearing holes in the floor if I kept it up, so I try to limit my time over there. I've also gotten some of my junk out of our room, like you wanted. I know you hate finding my gadgets strewn all over.

I lingered at stalked the mailboxes at the offices, waiting for Vierdra so I could get some news about you. She said you’re doing rather well, save for the ‘incident with your foliage’. I've done that before, you know. Ripped it all out like that. It hurt, but the alternative was going to be a lot worse. Maybe I’ll tell you about it when you come home. Maybe then the nightmares might stop. I don’t know. She seemed tired, though I admit I’m terrible at reading our sister. Everything about her is so... subtle. Deep. Like ripples in a pool. Yet still she’s intense. It’s in her eyes.

I try to concentrate on my work, like I would in Divinity’s, but it’s like I've lost my center. I feel adrift, like a boat that wasn't properly tied to the dock. I think you've become that, for me. My grounding anchor. Without you here to just...be you, I feel like I have no point of reference to pull me back to reality, away from nightmares and silly flights of imagination. I've started five different projects, but none are anywhere near finished, and at least three are probably a waste of time, considering costs and the limits of my engineering. I did manage to save up for those cigarettes though. Shana got them the last time we went shopping (I gave her my money for it. I didn't feel like going out.) I try to only smoke one a day, so they last longer. You might even be home by the time I finish the pack, maybe earlier! That thought cheers me up.

I guess I wanted to say how much you mean to me. I hope all my blabbering made sense. You always seem to get the heart of what I’m saying.

Please get better come home soon.

I love you.

~ Ciaran

[gw2-lolana9413]

"What’s your name?"

The noblewoman looks curiously at the sylvari before answering, clearly sizing him up. “I’m Kenley! And what’s yours?” She asks, before attempting to hug Nythanor.

See, the only sylvari Kenley has been around have been huge huggers so she is now assuming that it is customary to hug during introductions! Enjoy!

[ciaranthered]

Letters to Rehab

83rd of Zephyr, 1328 AE 

Nythanor,

Sorry for not writing. I...I wasn't sleeping well. I've already woken Naederyn and Shana twice with screams, so I decided just to bunk in the workshop. They offered to let me sleep with them but I don’t want to be a bother, and the screams would only be louder if I had more nightmares. I keep seeing that creature from the survey, whispering in it’s awful voice. It chases me, traps me and the rest pounce like wild dogs. I -hate- dogs. I wish you were here. Are you doing better? Would you like me to visit? I understand if you don’t, but... I’d love to see you for a little while.

Naederyn and Shana send their love too. I’m experimenting with Bloodstone dust again - seeing what sort of grenade or munition it can make. Do you know much about its other properties? Have any notes? I don’t want to go rummaging through your things without asking. I've heard about it being inedible, but what exactly does it -do- to someone? I might ask around the labs as well. Don’t worry, I -am- being careful. It’s all equations and theory right now. I won’t be able to build a prototype for at least another week. 

I love you, Nythanor. I hope I can see you soon.

~Ciaran