Jon from EddsWorld is Zack and Chris’s child pass it on.
Me and one of my Skype buddies were talking about how Jon looked like the Hellbenders (and also Christopher Robin-) So I had to draw them as a family! It’s really cute, kind’a funny, and I really like how it turned out. (Even if Zack looks a little off- It’s my first time draw them and Child!Jon-)
@thescarletgarden1990 prompted: Jonerys (duh): she's a forest witch, he gets lost in the woods. :D
Not quite the exact prompt, but thanks for the ask my friend! This made me stretch my writing muscles.
The men of the North weren’t fanciful by nature. The Andalish to the south had their tales of grumpkins and snarks, their haunted castles and shades wandering the seven hells. The North, where the blood of the First Men ran deep, knew that the Children still lived. The old gods listened, though not in the way a man wished. Still, whispers around Winter Town spoke of a fortune teller, a witch, a seer who lived in the wolfswood. Uncle Benjen was due any day now to guide him to the Wall, and the brotherhood that awaited him. The questions burning in his gut would lurk unanswered if he didn’t act now.
Jon urged his mount west down the deer track that passed as a road through the wood. Hand clenched around his swordhilt, Jon dragged in shallow breaths through his nose. Night fell swiftly in the wood. Gauzy mist clung to mossy tree trunks, leafless branches rattling like bones in the wind. Ghost had slipped away sometime after noonday, and Jon hadn’t seen or sensed him since. Unfamiliar bird calls rang out, shrill and shrieking in the growing night. Sweat dewed on his brow, he squinted into the middle distance, finding the glow of a fire. Jon heeled his horse into a jerky trot. Branches whacked and scraped at him with thin, gnarled fingers, the scent of loam rose up fetid and moist beneath castle-shod hooves.
The fire-glow was in fact a bonfire laid in a clearing. A female voice sang in a slippery language Jon didn’t understand.
“Hello, the house! Is someone there?” Jon shouted, congratulating himself on the even tone. The singing stopped, and Jon almost mourned the loss of that smoky voice and haunting words.
“I am, though green boys should speak with respect,” a woman said, almost in his ear.
Jon and the horse both shied hard, skittering away. Jon reined his mount under control with a curse. Jon rankled at the insult, glaring at the woman. She was scarcely older than he, though striking. Mikken hadn’t told Jon that she was beautiful. Washed in golden firelight, Jon admired the flash of her eyes, the tilt of her chin, the sweet curve of her mouth. A mane of silver hair fell nearly to her waist, strands woven with ribbons. Blue tattoos curled sinuous as smoke up her bare arms. Despite the chill, she stood in a silken skirt belted at the waist, the leather vest barely covering the jut of her nipples. Heat shot through him and he averted his eyes quickly. She could hex his bollocks off if he displeased her.
“Who are you?” Jon asked, swinging down from his horse. The woman was a tiny thing. He could tuck her under his shirt.
“The witch you seek. Called Stormborn. And who are you, green summer boy?”
“Jon Snow.” Her head cocked like a bird’s. A smile curved her lips, mysterious and beautiful.
“No, you’re not.” Jon scowled, fists curling at his sides.
“Do you name me a liar, milady?” he spat the words through clenched teeth. Stormborn’s smile showed white teeth. Smooth and lovely, like the rest of her. The tales of her ghoulishness were greatly exaggerated. Murmuring a string of lilting words under her breath, the fire roared, rising twice their height at a gesture from her.
“No, Jon Snow. Let us see what the dragon bones will sing to you tonight.”
[ The hallways are crowded, everyone hurrying to wherever it is that they need to be next. Jon has study hall, and his long legs carry him quickly through the crowd and towards the library. There's a particular spot that he needs to get to. He strides through the doors and into the quiet just as the clock tolls. Right on time, and there she is. ]
"Lo. I... Have a question for you."
[ His palms are sweaty and he feels kind of like he might puke. He's a Hopkins for god's sake, he's faced down witches capable of starting fires by blinking or earthquakes by breathing heavy. Asking her shouldn't be this nerve wracking. ]
