I have been wanting to draw this since the day I first defeated Balthazar in Guild Wars 2, but I never had the confidence in my skills to pull it off. It's been a journey of re-learning to love myself, my art, and to say "It's okay if you don't get it done right the first time. You can do it again later."
Who knows, we may revisit this again in a few years, now that it's finally out!
A lot of HC heavy things here, such as the wound Balthazar being inflicted upon Novus being filled with Necrotic energies, as he's still on the mend from returning to the land of the living. Sohothan having pink fire for the Mesmer magic flowing through it. And of course the outfit I'd chosen for Novus's time in Elona being partially burned away from the combat.
Secret santa for @l-la and fellow Creative Partner!
Loved to paint their sylvari and this gave me the chance to explore New Kaineng City a lil more to enjoy all the details.
Sponsored by ArenaNet
"Would you let me take care of this for you?" - whoever you've thought of most recently among your ocs
So this is WIP of sort, although was 100% started because of this ask. lol
My GW2 pair has been on my mind recently, even though I'm pretty certain no one else cares for them--either that or the fanfic community for GW2 is very small. In any case, here's what I've written so far!
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A frustrated sigh escaped Rhetton’s lips when his lover batted his hands away from the armor piece he was trying to remove. Those same hands then took over, carefully peeling the gauntlet off.
“Canach, I can undress myself…” the former commander trailed off when amethyst eyes glared daggers at him. Wincing, he turned his head away, knowing full well the look was warranted….
...because he once again ran off head-first into danger, causing the older man to worry over his safety.
It really didn’t help that he had nearly gotten himself cut in two by an enraged Ascended chasing after the refugees trying to flee. Rhetton had stepped in to help but was injured in the process. He could clearly remember the panicked look on Canach’s face--even from under that helmet of his--as an Agent named Kossian dragged him back to the Order of Secret’s outpost where his friends were. Thankfully, he had sustained only minor injuries--just a couple of bruises and scrapes…and the rather long and bleeding slash across his chest. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to hide the blatantly obvious injury from his partner. Not that it would have been a secret long, especially with Canach dead set on looking him over.
The older sylvari had practically thrown Rhetton over his shoulder to get him to a healer--much to the amusement of the man already helping him. While Rhetton found the action endearing, he knew he scared the shit out of the warrior…again.
“Would you just…” Canach started to say, pulling the engineer’s attention back before he shook his head and sighed. “Never mind.”
“No, Nach, don’t ‘never mind’ me,” Rhetton said, stopping the warrior’s hands from peeling him out of his sylvarin armor. He held them and squeezed lightly. “Talk to me.”
A long silence followed before Canach sighed again, leaning in to press his forehead against Rhetton’s chest.
“Would you just let me take care of this for you?” he asked quietly. “I’m aware I’d never be able to stop you from stepping into danger. You’re too much of a good person to just stand aside and do nothing--especially when you know you can help. All I ask is when you do, at least allow me to take care of you in the aftermath.”
Rhetton could not keep the smile from his face, even if he wanted to. Pulling the older man closer, he wrapped him up in his arms and hugged him tightly.
“I can do that…although you may need to remind me some days,” he chuckled softly, “I do tend to have an issue knowing when to rest.”
The soft laughter that left Canach was deep and rich. “Yes, dearheart, I am well aware of that issue of yours.”
Rhetton scrunched his nose at the endearment.
“I take it dearheart is not to your liking?” the warrior grinned.
“It is not…heard Foalin call Caithe that far too much,” Rhetton replied, “It’s rather ruined for me.”
“Hmm, understandable,” Canach said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, “I’ll work on coming up with something else.”
Chrysallus stares at the mirror, uncertainty in his eyes as they drift up to his hair.
A twitch of an ear. A swivel of the other.
Swish... swish... a cat tail dragging on the fabric of his coat, hidden from sight.
He's not sure why he went through this process. The mesmer had been tinkering with cosmetic tonics, for partial transformations, for little bits of entertainment here and there.
After that damn courtier (ex-courtier, he reminds himself) dropped a potion near him, Auri, and itself, they had sprouted cat ears and tails for a short time.
He's not sure when they wore off (each sylvari's partial transformation had worn off at different times, and no one really pointed it out to him), but he supposed he had gotten used to being... obvious to people.
Chrys reached up to touch the leafy cat ears on his head, almost feeling shy about them.
Something about these little additions made him feel... real. Felt seen.
He had been so used and bogged down by how "powerful" and "unreachable" he is in status, in power. He's so used to having to play the part of the unaffected commander, the unbreakable champion of Tyria. So used to being alone...
One would think he'd be better at managing the stress of it all, or getting help from all the trauma.
Since when has the Commander ever been in need of saving? Especially from himself?
Chrys shook the thoughts from his mind, then looks back at the ears on his head, seeing them fold back.
Before the ears, the only indication of his stress were the flowers that bloomed in his hair, or worse, the flowers that shredded his throat and incapacitated him afterwards.
When the "cat incident" happened, people seemed to understand his stress a lot better, especially any charr in the area (or anyone who's had a cat) were able to translate his body language with ease.
It no longer felt like he had to speak what was on his mind, or wish that others could read his mind.
Even before this incident, the mesmer had heard others refer to him as "Catmander" when they think he can't hear them.
The blue sylvari crosses his arms, still contemplating the ears that are now fully grown and visible on his head.
He feels people would judge him differently.
They would think him childish.
Acting like a sapling.
Acting a fool and treating everything like a joke.
Why did he even bother with this? Others would just make fun of him for this.
He just wants to be seen and understood when common socializing is difficult.
Is that so much to ask...?
His hands tightly grasp the sleeves of his coat, the anxiety gnawing on his mind with every second.
Chrysallus hears a loud noise and hides the cat ears and tail with mesmer magic, his thorns fluffing up.
Turns out it was one of his many cats knocking over something. He exhales, his ears and tail reappearing as he catches his breath from being startled.
He glances back at the mirror. Should he keep it? Should he get rid of them?
Chrys feels... well, not "whole", but like he doesn't need to hide, that he'll be treated better with them, expressing his emotions better than he can say.
On the other hand, his anxiety and paranoia is whispering into his mind, making the blue sylvari fear about being treated like a joke, and bringing down the rest of his friends, of his loved ones.
... Maybe he needs to hide out somewhere for a while, so he can think about this in a place where he can't be seen and judged by others before he's ready.
Auri might be upset, though. They said something about a mender appointment, but Chrys had forgotten when that was supposed to be; knowing his luck, it's sometime this week.
