#things are implied

[erstwhiledays]

I'm reshuffling plot points a bit, but this is a couple of test pages from about 2/3 of the way through the comic. I started them about a month ago, and then finished the inks and colours over the last two days.

[Click images for better quality]

[evolvingetheric]

Giving me back to myself. Or whatever. Hah.

[despitethequn]

Damon ran his fingers along the vallaslin. "My mum was Dalish." He smiled when Der's eyes widened. His lover's gaze flicked over to study him. "She had the most beautiful vallaslin of Mythal. The colour of the Hinterlands in fall, and it faded into her skin at the ends." He motioned at his own face. "I think she was always sad that we'd never have one."

"You were raised as a human." Der's gaze roamed his face, and Damon's smile twisted.

"Yeah. My da was human. A mage, like Mum. He came to her camp looking for help." Suddenly uncomfortable with his lover's gaze, Damon shifted onto his back to stare at the ceiling. "He'd agreed to a partnership with a spirit of purpose, to help found a new order of mages, but it all went wrong. He wanted help, but the Circles would've killed him."

Der pressed his lips to Damon's neck. "He was fortunate that her clan did not," he murmured, and Damon laughed. "What did your mother do for him?"

Damon closed his eyes and breathed in. The bitter tang of elfroot and the pine scent of Der's clothing filled his lungs. He breathed in the scents a few more times, his jaw and neck loosening a bit more with each breath, and then turned to meet his gaze.

"Some potions, to help keep the spirit hidden away. Some failed attempts to remove it. And in the middle of all this, she fell pregnant with my oldest brother." He clicked his teeth. "That wouldn't do, a half-breed and a bastard at that. So they gave her a choice. She chose to leave with my da. Two apostates, one a Dalish with a baby on the way." He laughed bitterly. "We couldn't settle anywhere too long. They'd find out Mum or Da or both were mages, we had to keep moving. And then Patricia started having nightmares."

Der stroked his side and pulled him closer. "I am sorry," he murmured, his gaze again studying Damon's features.

Damon shrugged and waved him away. "Ignore me. I'm being moody." He flashed a grin and moved to straddle Der's hips. "You're not here for me to be moody."

Seizing his wrists and pressing a kiss to each, Der whispered, "I am not merely here for. Ah. This."

Damon thrust his hips, earning a startled, low moan. "I'd rather focus on this, if it's all the same."

[safiirimaagi]

Scars: I’ll write your character touching my character’s scars or vice versa

Scars | Accepting

It’s...difficult to look at them. Some of them are small thin lines from scratches, but the bigger and larger ones always grip at her heartstrings. He tells them that they don’t hurt anymore, and even though he’s smirking at her, (teasingly saying that perhaps there are other ‘better’ parts of him she’s interested in), her eyes remain glued on one particular scar that is placed over his heart. 

It’s something that stays on her mind even after she wakes the next day, Archer still in bed with her. seemingly asleep. Luvia knows he’s not sleeping, but she says nothing, only sighs and brushes back a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder. Yet the more she tries to ignore it, the more persistent that feeling becomes.

She wants to touch it. 

“...”

“...”

Sucking in a breath, she peeks at Archer’s face, searching for...permission? Approval? It matters not, his eyes are still closed, his breaths are even. Servants don’t need sleep, she reminds herself, and looks away, trying to find something else to occupy herself with, but the feeling remains.

Several moments later, she’s biting her lip and looking at him again, and makes a decision.

She’s going to do it.Yes.

She’ll just...slowly scoot closer to him...and-

Paused.

No, no this is too silly. She should have just done this last night. Really! She feels like a fool. Especially since...hmph. He really is going to keep this farce up?

“Archer, you can stop pretending to be asleep now.”

[potatojazz]

Loyal Sons and Fatherly Fathers

The most loyal boy sits crouched in a corner

his hands bound behind his back

his tears flood as would a mourner

the boy quivers at each motion of an attack

  The most fatherly father guides his son into pain

his pride lingers on his shoulder

his grins stretch as would the vain

the father attacks with each gesture

  Loyalty, a system of trust now corrupt

Obedience, an act of complying now false

Resistance in either shows the truth rather abrupt

A tradition ran under impulse

. 

The father shows not a sense of pity

his fingers soiled by the blood of kin

his son cowers as would the witty

A better life it all could have been

.

The boy regrets an unwanted bond

His mind traumatized by daily interactions

His terrors live as would a nightmare that has spawned

A new friend serves as the best of distractions

Loyalty in which without trust is lost

Obedience to the father diminished

The ancien regime now double crossed

A tradition ran to strike finished