#The money and coinpouch don't count as part of Ashan's “precious possessions.” Carrying that around is just a necessity.

[autumnalwalker]

Happy STS! What is your character's favourite possession? Share a snippet about it if you like 💜

Not something I've thought about for all my characters, but for the ones that I have:

From The Archivist's Journal:

The Archivist: The journal.

Maiko: A carved figurine of a animal that the Archivist has never heard of and may not exist in the world of the Village. Apparently it's something like a dog in behavior and social role if not in form. Her mother made it for her when she was a child.

Vernon: The coat that acts as the symbol of his status as Village mediator. How he doesn't get heat stroke walking around in it in tropical weather remains a mystery to the Archivist.

From Empty Names:

Road: Their shapeshifting jacket. Although given that it's sort of alive, it might be more pet than possession.

Sullivan: His wedding ring.

Ashan: Ashan (mostly by choice) has very few worldly possessions, and those select items that he hangs onto are each precious in some way. Here's a snippet about it:

It is always a strange feeling, waking up in an unfamiliar bed.  Doubly so when you are not used to waking up in a bed at all.  Though for all that strangeness, Ashan finds himself conceding to no one in particular that it does feel nice.  The weight of the blankets, the texture of the pillowcase, such things are absent from his usual habit of simply sleeping suspended midair inside a climate-controlled privacy ward.  Perhaps his standard sleep ritual is not quite as superior to ordinary bedding as he likes to believe.

Then again, he is finding it unusually difficult to get up and moving now that he is awake.  A result of poor sleep quality induced by physical bedding or just leftover exhaustion from yesterday?  Surely he is not giving in to the indulgence of luxury.  But it does feel nice just lying here, half asleep with the blankets curled tight around him and the morning light barely filtering in through dual layers of window and bed curtains.

Take a rest.  Sleep in.  You’ve earned it.

Ashan throws back the covers and pivots to sit upright with his legs hanging over  the side of the bed, brushing against the surrounding drapery.

That is the sort of thing she would say to him on a morning like this.  Or… no?  That is what Road said last night before leaving him to retire for the evening.

Hers is the voice he imagines though.

Without the covers over him he suddenly feels terribly exposed.  Pulling the bed’s curtain aside, he reaches out, snaps his wizard’s raiment from where he left it last night and quickly slips into it.  He can count on one hand the number of times since returning to the world of his birth that he’s taken it off.  Not coincidentally, it’s the same as the number of times he’s actually bathed instead of simply magically cleaning himself and his clothes.  That had been the first complex spell his teacher had taught him and she’s ever been invented. 

If you never master another spell, at least learn this one.  Best spell that’s ever been invented. 

And yet, there was a relaxation to warm water that the spell’s efficiency cut out. 

He checks the contents of his sleeves, verifying that everything is accounted for.  Wand, white with a blended rainbow.  Coinpouch, now stuffed with more folded paper currency than coin.  Portable makeup kit, understated yet elegant in its lid’s design.  The sum total of his worldly possessions.  All gifts from her, directly or indirectly, the same as his robes.

He raises a hand to draw a mirror in the air but stops himself short.  He should not strain himself more than necessary after yesterday’s burnout.  And besides, there is a perfectly good vanity set against the wall opposite of the foot of the bed.

After opening the window blinds to let in the sunlight and a view of the estate’s gardens he takes a seat in front of the vanity’s mirror, sets down the makeup kit, opens it, selects a brush, and gets to work.

This had been a daily morning ritual for Ashan, once upon a time.  The subtle transformation of his face is not so much a masking over but a drawing out of how he sees himself.  He had tried to make adjustments when he had first gone his separate ways from his teacher - experimenting with the angle and curve of the eyeliner, going lighter on the contouring, altering the blend on colors - but it had never felt like him in the mirror afterward.  While he might have copied her style to begin with, it was his just as much as it was hers now.

Wrapping up the finishing touches and closing the box some minutes later he pauses, considering.  These days he normally ends the application with a spell to keep the makeup pristine and in place for a week or more in order to preserve the kit’s dwindling supplies that he still has not been able to find satisfactory replacements for on this world.  But there is the matter of overexertion to consider.

In the end, he returns the kit to his sleeve and heads to the bedroom door without any spellcasting.  If there is one occasion that warrants wasting a little bit of material to look his best then surely spending a day in the home of the sorceress Bridgewood is it.