ambricourt

[ambricourt]

im an abbot and tbh if i dont vibe with one of my monks i call the vatican and tell them he's tempting the other monks to most profane and unnatural couplings and they just take him back and send a new one no questions asked

[ambricourt]

and here is the complete work! IF YOU KNEW HOW TIRED I AM OF DOING THIS

However, just check out these touches…OHHHHHHHHHH

[ambricourt]

Commissions open! (base nsfw is for two characters!) (also you can support me on SubscribeStar for nsfw art and other things!)

EDIT: Since I finally got my fav pens, adding 10€ (3/4, one char) sketch comms to the list!

[ambricourt]

ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A KNIGHT...

the visual inspiration for this was a combination of Frederic William Burton's Meeting on the Turret Stairs and also Bernardo Cavallino's The vision of St. Dominic receiving the Rosary from the Virgin

this was supposed to be just a one off illustration to get the thoughts out of my system, but then I started thinking about medieval politics and warfare and plagues and a castle and home as both a place of refuge, a prison, and a tomb, so perhaps they will end up as ex voto characters as well.

you may say, hey! that rosary looks like it has too many beads! it's a fifteen decade rosary, probably. dominicans are really into marian devotions. it works out.

also. spiral style stair cases. oh boy. it was that unexpectedly more difficult than I originally thought it would be to draw. the more I think about it, the less I understand them, even though I had a million photos of the stairs in front of me while I was drawing it.

⭐ I have a tip jar (ko-fi)!

⭐ and other places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app

[ambricourt]

[ambricourt]

my fav thing about having ocs is having a basic line of lore for them but as soon as someone asks me about them I completely bullshit everything I tell them. Yeah this wasn't true like 5 minutes ago but now it is

[ambricourt]

Child’s cape. Twilled peacock blue woollen cloth, embroidered in cream silk thread, with a cream tassel on the hood; Anglo-Indian, 1860-70

[ambricourt]

Since I was a babe, scampering through the streets of the city in wicked attempts to skip Mass and avoid detection by the vicar, I have held a great, deep love of the thought of becoming a knight or an adventurer. It was rare that men from beyond the vibrant greens and greys of Coerthas would come through the city, but when they did I was often among the first to find them, barraging them with questions of the world that lay beyond the meadows and great spires of stone. It was the clattering sound and pungent scent of chocobos that always seemed to give their arrival away - the gates would often open for the knights and dragoons, but their stables were, at the time, housed beyond the walls, where they could be quickly set to task should a threat arise; the chocobos and carriages that came into the city were typically those of merchants or the rare adventurer, and would soon be swarmed by children eager to hear stories and tales of cities like Radz-at-Han and Ul'dah or to savour sweets brought from lands afar. 

Even as an adult, I find myself spending my time working in the Forgotten Knight if only to eavesdrop on the swarms of adventurers that now pass through our gates on the daily. Enthralling tales of derring-do and the occasional whispered tragedy of some lascivious tryst. I feel some days as though I could subsist on those tales alone, should bread and wine evade me. 

Should Halone see fit to grant me a second chance, I should rather like to become an adventurer.

[ambricourt]

The towering halls of the churches and cathedrals, built in Halone's name, run through this city like veins delivering the blood of salvation to her people. They sprawl out, fractal in nature, growing ever smaller and thinner until they choke out at the fringes of society now left with only the thinnest of blood to offer, some tepid salvation that feels some days more for our sake and that of the Holy See than for the poor and bedraggled masses in the brume. The lion's share is taken by the high houses still, or tucked neatly into the pockets of the cardinals and bishops, while vicars and priests serving the people are afforded what scraps remain. Much of the stipend afforded me is spent on bread and wine and good bones to make broth to ensure the children who battle the bitter cold each day know at least a modicum of warmth. I can only hope that such warmth may yet grow with them, and drive them to a better life as they age, much as it did within me.

I fear, some days, that my faith in Her is slipping. Several years have passed since the Warrior of Light came and upended the lives and lies we'd grown so comfortable in. It pains me to admit, but having seen the corruption laid bare as a babe before my eyes, of false holy wars and hierarchy, I would be remiss to claim that my faith in the Holy See, in Halone herself, were steady and unfaltered. The veil through which I saw the world has been cast off and in its place is a city far darker than I had thought, where poverty and corruption, left unchecked for centuries, still festers. Though the Warrior of Light may have borne to us the tumour, they did little to excise it, allowing its cancerous mass to continue to fester as grow as it always has. That the veil of lies has been split and torn off seems to have done little stymie its growth.

I worry for my fair city. I suppose I worry for myself. I pray each night for Halone to explain to me why she might set such cruel fates and evil upon this world but her words to my pleas are silent…