riconoscersifratanti

[moldy-mold]

GTRO 2.0 Introduction: Darien

Was it a dream though?

[lord-aldhelm]

October 1, 2019 Cenric (Máté Haumann) | The Last Kingdom. Photographed by James Northcote on Instagram.

[ssksscrapboard]

a classic scene

[enbeemagical]

hey rb this and tell me about a blorbo from your friend's brain pls, if you don't have spoons for rambling then just tag them

[little-demy]

ー; Origins

Work done for @idrellegames' Wayfarer 3rd Anniversary GA. While I am still pretty new with the series, I've been enjoying every bits of it and can't stop myself from joining in with the prompt

Happy 3rd year anniversary, hurray✨

[sunshinemage]

Your prince's crown Cracks and falls down Your castle hollow and cold

You've wandered so far From the person you are Let go, brother, let go

[sosolenoo]

Another revenge for @rickety-goose 💕 with Otti 🌸

[rickety-goose]

Aniel "Ani" Cenric

It's here, @wayfarer-exchange reveal day \0/ My gift for @antsychamber !!! I ran with the bar brawl idea and had so much fun drawing grumpy Ani >:) Enjoy!! <3 <3 <3

[idrellegames]

I chose the streetkid mc and in the beginning after the fight with the monster and Cenric said "you did good kid, no matter what, you did good" and im here holding back imaginary tears like Thats the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me! My poor baby had been living roughly before he came and found them.

Cenric may be grizzled and grumpy on the outside, but there is a very kind soul hidden beneath the façade.

[joy-fires]

Pasha redesign! I really wanted to update her design before the big patch and have been sitting on my ideas for how to update her for a while, so~ I finally did it! A new and improved wayfarer!

[redwayfarers]

in the sun and in the snow

Fandom: Wayfarer Ship: Oya Cenric/Aeran Kellis Characters: Oya Cenric (@sunshinemage), Cassander Inteus, Aeran Kellis (mentioned) Rating: Teen Words: 1187 Spoilers: None! Rory did a little piece of their Oya and my Cass for OCkiss24, and I felt inspired, so I wrote a little thing. Hope you don't mind I borrowed Oya, Rory! It's a little gift for you, after all. Because Oya deserves love, joy and happiness with the dumbass elf they fell for. Happy Valentine's Day :) read on ao3 dividers by @saradika

It’s a summer’s day in the Spire. It’s not Covera, with its warm days where the only thing one can do is sit by the beach, but it’s not freezing cold either, so the wayfarers are in the courtyard, training, conversing with one another. Laughter echoes in the distance. Artanis feels more at home than Covera, in a lot of ways. 

In all honesty, a part of Oya doubted they’d ever have it in their lifetime. Much to their surprise, they were proven wrong. 

The only thing lacking in this bustling, jovial mood of life outside the norms of the world is the fact that Aeran isn’t here. Oya misses him terribly; months pass without them seeing each other, but it does little to lessen the ache in her chest whenever she sits in her room, alone, and thinks about what it would be like if he sat there with her. It’s a soft reverie - akin to a refreshing sip of water on a hot day, or a cup of mulled wine in winter - and also one that’s expanded recently. 

Aeran’s not simply sitting with them anymore. He’s kissing them. 

The notion of it almost startles them, but they welcome it. The thoughts of him smiling against their lips make their days pass faster at times. He promised he’d be here soon; all Oya can do is wait. They might not get to kiss him when he gets here, granted. Oya thinks she might just jump out of her skin if it does happen, in some alternate reality. She just wants him around, and she wants the cozy reverie of it, and the way he hugs her. 

In his absence, though, she’ll take the wayfarers and the people the world cast aside. So she enters the courtyard, runs her fingers through her hair, and starts making her way through the crowd. She passes by Cenric and a new apprentice, a big-eyed human girl with close cropped hair. 

Cenric gives Oya a nod of greeting and a fond smile. The girl also watches Oya, seemingly fascinated by their crest, and Cenric gives her a weak hit on the shoulder. 

“It’s rude to stare,” he says gruffly. Oya laughs. 

“M sorry,” the girl whispers, embarrassed. 

Life is good at the Spire. 

When they reach the smithy, they see a familiar splash of red hair towering over everyone else. Cassander is hard to miss, especially now that he’s in in his finest, artanisian summer attire - which Oya knows is nowhere as fine as what he would’ve worn in Vodena, a lifetime ago - and his hair pulled up and braided in a style that looks messy at the first glance, but betrays a lot of time upon closer inspection. Most jarring of all, however, is the fact that he looks like he wants to be anywhere else but here, Vodena included. 

“Cassander?” Oya pipes up, and he looks up from his boots to blink at them. His hand remains at the braid on his shoulder. 

“Oya! You’re a sight for sore eyes!” He swallows and laughs nervously. “Would you mind if I.. tasked you with something?” 

“Are you alright?” Oya asks. “What happened?” 

“Nothing special, I just– I needed to have my armor fixed, and the only available blacksmith was my now ex boyfriend. So I’m–” He laughs again, this time less like he’s about to cry and more like he’s making fun of himself. “Told myself, ‘Cassander, you’re a big boy, you can do this. Just say hello, thank you and goodbye and you’re on your merry fucking way.’ But no, I had to dress up, even. I was this close to lining my eyes, too. Why look miserable when you feel miserable, right?” 

Oya sighs and steps closer, to stand by him. They understand the feeling quite well. It’s the similar sort of tension that fills them when they think of kissing Aeran, but in reverse. Where Oya has to tell themself that kissing Aeran’s good, and that their head is messing with them, Cassander looks actively ready to jump off the window in Sero’s office. 

“So you want me to pick your armor up for you?” they say, and he nods curtly. 

“If you’d be so kind, yeah,” he rasps out. “If you have places to be, I get it. I am a big boy, after all. But I chickened out at the last second. And, yeah.” He kicks the ground. “For fuck’s sake, I killed people before.” 

Oya looks at him. “It’s not a problem. I don’t have anywhere to be.” And then, they add, with a layer of cautious curiosity, “How long ago did you break up with the blacksmith?” 

“A few months, I think. Distance did its thing, but it still hurts, in a lot of ways.” Cassander shrugs. His fingers have not stopped moving over the curled ends of his hair. “How have you been?” 

It’s Oya’s turn to laugh. “Aeran should be in the Spire soon.” 

“Yeah. Are you planning any big welcome gestures? Any romantic lunches?” 

Oya looks at him, wide-eyed. They clear their throat. “Nothing of the sort!” 

He giggles. “Sad. And here I was, just about to tell you I know a place.” 

Oya looks at the ground. Romantic lunches sound nice; their sweet, unattainable reverie dances in front of them and dulls everything else. It’s a nice thought - them and Aeran, in the nooks and crannies of their family’s estate in Covera, absorbing the sun and watching the sea. Or maybe, sneaking into an old, unused room high above in one of the Spire’s towers, close for warmth as they watch the snow fall. 

And Aeran would kiss them; or they would kiss him, and it would be lovely and sweet and it makes something in them tighten and release in uneven rhythm. 

“I’m just fucking with you,” Cassander says, by way of apology that doesn’t sound that apologetic. “I just think you two would enjoy a romantic little dinner for two.” He extends an arm to wrap around Oya’s shoulders, but it doesn’t quite touch them; Oya leans into it and he rubs their shoulder. Life goes on around them, life away from the norms of good and high society, life where people like them can talk about having relationships at all, let alone failed ones. 

Then she hears the gates open and the familiar sound of Aeran’s voice, tired from the road, and her heart leaps. She turns back to look at the gates and Cassander turns with her, nodding with realization. 

“Go get your romantic dinner, or whatever you guys want to do,” he tells her. “I will be a big boy, as I said, and get the damn armor.” 

“Are you certain–” 

“Yes! Now go. One chance, Oya, one chance, go, go, go!” 

Oya breathes and tries their best not to run to Aeran. When he sees them, he beams and it’s as if they’re in Covera on a warm, summer’s day, or in an unused room in an abandoned Spire tower watching the snow fall. 

He’s home. 

And in a way, Oya is too. 

[sovhina]

A gift for @sunshinemage !! I’ve been wanting to get my hands on your Wayfarer Oya for a loooong time and I finally was able to! I hope I did them justice<333

[paytowinsundays]

Summary: Tamlin feels like he's drowning. Nothing has gone right in a long time and everything he does to try to atone for his mistakes have only resulted in more failures. He has a Court to rebuild, but there's nothing he can do while he's just as ruined. The rumor of one of Hybern's werewolves running amok in his land might be enough to get him out of his slump - for now at least. // Cenric stole away from Hybern's armies in the dead of night to escape what he thought was another pointless conflict. He's spent too long playing war hound for High Fae in their stupid fights. All he wants is to find some quiet corner and live a peaceful life. Too bad he's overstayed his welcome in Spring Court's territory.

(Or as one friend jokingly said, "The fic were Tamlin gets that werewolf dick." (He does eventually.) An entirely silly Tamlin x Werewolf!OC fic where they learn to heal together. That's it.)

[hanseelie]

huevember day 15 - Sar’nai Cenric 💜

[pentacass]

“Engine’s hot, get on quick!”

“Gotcha.” Vestra darted out from the shadow of a cargo container, sinking her mauve blade through a Sith hunter’s chest. Kicking the body off her lightsaber, she sent a Force blast that hurled three Imperial agents back, heads cracking against dull grey hangar walls. “Lana, let’s go!”

With a single swing of her dark orange blade, Lana severed the necks of their last two Imperial pursuers. Yellow eyes met brown, and they sprinted up the starship’s boarding ramp, which started to seal behind them when they entered the airlock.

“Are you alright?” Lana asked, and Vestra replied with a squeeze on her gloved hand, before leading the way towards the cockpit. The ship shook and tilted beneath their feet, as they sped away from the spaceport and its failed ambush.

They reached the cockpit as the ship broke through the atmosphere, and slid into hyperspace. Vestra relaxed, but her mother leapt up from the pilot’s seat, spinning around and bringing her pistol to bear in one smooth motion.

As her father mirrored the action, Vestra threw herself in front of Lana, hands raised in alarm. “Stop, stop! She’s with me!”

Ava’s eyes narrowed, lips parting in a snarl. “You brought a Sith on my ship?”

“She’s with me! Lower your weapons, please.”

“Explain, Vestra,” Cenric spoke, much calmer than his wife - but Vestra wasn’t fooled. He could pull the trigger without a single twitch in his placid expression.

“She’s here to help, I swear. I got your distress signal, and she offered to come as backup.”

“Why,” Ava intoned. Her finger looked much too comfortable on her blaster’s trigger.

“Because we’re…friends?” Vestra’s voice grew smaller as she spoke, and nearly disappeared on the last word. She cast an uncertain glance at Lana - who looked unhelpfully amused.

Ah, fuck it. Mom’s already pissed. Might as well piss her off all at once. 

“We’re dating, alright?” Vestra nearly laughed at the bewilderment breaking through her father’s stoic mask. But she did not, because the mistrust in Ava’s glare turned downright murderous. She hastened to add, “I’ll explain it later. For now, I would like both of you to lower your weapons. Please. She’s trustworthy.”

“No Sith exists who is trustworthy.”

“Mom,” Vestra groaned. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Ava’s finger remained on the trigger, but Cenric walked over, setting a hand on her wrist. He lowered his blaster, sharing a look with his wife, who allowed him to push her hand down - albeit with obvious reluctance.

“We have no choice but to trust your word, for now. But,” Cenric added, when Vestra opened her mouth. “I would like to perform a security check first.”

“Dad-”

“It’s quite alright, Ves. I understand the caution.” Lana’s amusement was now audible in her voice, though she bowed politely. “I am Lana Beniko. It is…a pleasure, to finally meet you both.”

Ava’s lips tightened into an even thinner line, while Cenric pulled on an easy smile, offering his hand to Lana. “Cenric Lenshe. If you’ll just follow me, Lord Beniko.”

“Just Lana, please.”

“Lana, then. Come along.” He beckoned Lana to follow as he walked out of the cockpit, hand resting on the blaster holstered at his thigh.

Vestra didn't watch them leave, eyes fixed warily on her mother - whose glare rivalled a knife's wicked edge. When silence reigned, she broke it tentatively, “I know how it looks. But I swear-”

“Have I not told you what is in our blood?”

Vestra sighed, keen to avoid yet another lecture about their bloodline. “Mom, Kallig’s long dead and gone. Our blood’s our own, it doesn’t dictate who we are.”

“It is too easy to fall. You should’ve learnt that as a Jedi. You have seen how the Sith can be.”

“Yes, yes. Sith bad, Sith dangerous, Sith ugly. Blah blah,” Vestra said, feeling her mother’s hard stare shave off a few years of her life. “But Lana’s not like that. She’s not ugly. She’s not bad, either.” She lapsed into silence, then added, “Well, not all bad anyway. Not all the time.”

“You are rationalising.”

She heaved another sigh. “Look, can you give her a chance? Just sit down, talk to her, get to know her. Please?” Vestra tried her puppy eyes - but it bounced right off Ava, where it would’ve shot straight into Cenric’s heart. “I really, really like her. I love her.”

“You could’ve found a better person to love.”

That snapped Vestra from her nonchalant facade like a blunt, verbal slap. “Didn’t you fall in love with an Imperial spy?”

Her riposte found its mark; Ava’s eyes widened a fraction at the reminder, and her lips curled. Though not in an entirely displeased manner.

“Former Imperial. Your father is different.”

“So is Lana.”

“That remains to be seen.” Ava held her steady gaze a moment longer, before turning back to the pilot’s console in defeat. “If she makes one wrong move, I’ll blast her out the airlock.”

“You’ll have to blast me out too.”

“So be it.”

Vestra clicked her tongue, a smile curving her lips in relief. “Love you too, mom.”

[sunshinemage]

Sometimes you can find a shade waiting at the edge of the Fields of Mourning, sword in hand.

You know there's never any sunrise here. The shade seems to know it too...

___ Oya in the style of Hades 2!! Bonus only Oya under the cut 💙