#aeva

[laserbobcat]

In which Luke wakes up with boobies and just go prepare breakfast like every morning. March loses his mind. He changed his body when he was a teen using really complicated magic from his father, it was difficult and costly. And here's Luke just waking up like this and he can't figure out wtf happened. It's even worse when he wakes up with his usual body a few days later without any apparent reason. Wizards can't stand not understanding things.

[hubbydraws]

Tried some new art stuff out! I really like how she came out in this. ^_^ 💗

(Been wanting to make cow ocs again lately! This one is a transgirl named Aeva! She really likes to pose. Hoping to make more ocs soon!)

[rox-art]

some oc reworks and expression practices 🪐💫

[evita-shelby]

been writing my hotd fic for so long i typed Eva as Aeva on the word doc lol

[tryst-art-archive]

Khra-nicles: Narrators Scrap

Condescending minutes slipped by in the conga line of time. I fidgeted unhappily; they were making me wait just for the sake of being rude; they always did.  They’d be hoping I would think and brood and make myself nervous. The fact that it was working only served to irk me.

              At length, the tall members of the Narrator’s Council slipped into the Audience Chamber, moving with a faint rush as of the wind through reeds. Surrounded by Dragonfolk eyes with their unnamable quality of Knowing, I rose from my chair and stared coolly down at them, my own Knowing eyes staring back, but from a Raethiann face.

              Well, “staring down” isn’t quite right. Sitting, they were at my eye level. Standing, they towered above me; I’m unusually short for a Narrator.

              The moderator of the Council, Mevit (whose name was half decent as far as Dragonfolk names go), presently opened the meeting with the traditional phrase: “I Know.” I shuddered inside at the sentence (spoken in the language of the Dragonfolk, of course); I had always been highly atypical of the Dragonfolk and had always been righteously proud of the fact. My long removal from the Verde Islands to the land of animal-men, Raeth, had further deteriorated the Dragonfolk thread in me. The Raethian “mellowness” (as they say in P’tak) had seeped into me and though I was pretentious for a Raethian, I was unduly casual for a Dragonfolk woman. The occasional trips to the human continent, Nassab, had striped away various Dragonfolk sensibilities, leaving me strange to humans, Raethians, and the Dragonfolk alike.

              But I hardly minded any of that; what bothered me now was the complacency in that single “I know.” There were undertones there. Tones of “I KNOW because I have been CHOSEN and you, who are so much more foolish than I, could never hope to KNOW AS I KNOW. I humbly request that you do not attempt to fool thineself.”

              “Rhawen Evergreen Fox,” Mevit said, saying the name like it was something foul. “Do you know why we have called you here?”

              “Not for tea and biscuits, I expect,” I replied, unamused. Vihemeth frowned at me, looking more like a person deserving such a godawful name in doing so. He’d just love it if I behaved myself and did as I was told, I thought. He’s a good man, but he’s still Dragonfolk in the end.

              Mevit had said something, but I’d missed it, calling attention to my ignorance with a distinctive “Wut?”

              It was hard not to laugh at Mevit when he was angry. “We have called you here,” he said slowly, “to discuss your latest Tale regarding one Kriamiss Orientere.”

              “Ah, yes. And I think it’ll be a good one, too. Perhaps you’d like to read what I have down so far?”  Oh, sarcasm! Truly, you are my friend.

              “That is unnecessary; we here have no desire to read code-breaking drivel.”

              “Oh,” I said. But what ran through my mind was righteous anger; such an insult! Me! A nearly-omniscient Narrator, charged (amongst others) with recording the great histories of the world, write drivel? Oh, there would be hell to pay.

              “‘Oh’, indeed.” Mevit glared over steepled fingers, trying too look menacing but really trying to hard for it to be effective. “Rhawen E. Fox, you are charged with the heinous crime of placing yourself in your own Tale and interfering with its natural flow.”

              “And for wearing that horrid form!” Glaivde added in her shrill voice. She had recently spent some time with a noble family on Nassab and wore a human form; she appeared as exactly the sort of wrinkled old woman to own such a nails-on-the-chalkboard voice. The stereotyping was rather comical.

              Ignoring Glaivde, I responded with my best scolding mother voice. “Why, Mevit, I’m surprised at you. How can you presume to know what the Creators intend for a Tale?” (Much to my pleasure, Vihemeth looked a bit like he was going to blow a gasket; how I do love vexing him.)

              I was rewarded with an affronted gasp on all sides; Mevit’s was followed by the spluttered statement, “W-we are omniscient, Rhawen, and—“

              “Nearly omniscient, Mevit,” I corrected. “And you forget that I share that same omniscience with you and the rest of those noble Narrators here gathered. If any Creator wished our omniscience to know their designs, I would know them as sure as you would. No Creator has condemned my action, though I have broken the rules and done so consciously.” Murmured disgust drifted through the room. Consciously neglecting the Narrator’s code?! Preposterous! Unthinkable!

              “Blasphemy!” was the particular adjective to fly from Glaivde. It summed up their mood nicely.

              Vihemeth rose, hands on table, leering over me. “What nonsense are you suggesting, Rhawen?” It was, perhaps, incredibly lucky that his posture prevented the others from getting a clear look at his face, for behind that queer Dragon quality in his eyes, his everlasting sympathy for me was plain to see and all the political maneuvering in the world would not have saved his reputation – that one thing that seemed to save me, again and again, from losing the station of Narrator, my reason for being.

              I dropped my eyes from his and looked toward Mivet instead. “I merely suggest that the rules be broken this once. After all, I have already taken up the Tale and must see it through to the end.”

              “That is as may be. We cannot argue the necessity of completing a Tale.” Mevit exchanged nods with his fellows. “However,” he said now, the old hatred flaring, “that still begs the question: what is to become of you and your Tale afterward? You have broken the rules, Rhawen. The impartiality of the Tale is tainted by your personal involvement, and the old rule that we never write of ourselves broken.”

              In a fit of frustration, Vihemeth threw out, “At least you haven’t written of one of our Council meetings!”

              A small smile slipped onto my face, just for Vihemeth to see, and he looked suddenly terribly afraid, breathing, “Oh, you wouldn’t… would you? No, Rhawen, don’t—“

              But I turned away from him; Mevit was jabbering again.

              “I believe it would be wise for us to revoke your right to Narrate and destroy the Tale in question upon its completion.”

              A stony cold silence entered the room; this was a radical move. Not unheard of, but still terribly harsh.

              Presently, the unthinkable happened; Glaivde spoke in my defense.

              “Mevit,” she began timidly. “Are you certain of the wisdom of this? Her crime is steep, indeed, but to both prevent her further Writing and destroy the Tale… well. That’s just… cruel, isn’t it?”

              Mevit began softly, gaining volume and passion as he spoke. “Need I remind you, Glaivde, that Rhawen has been a thorn in our side for many years now, constantly pushing against the limitations specified by the Narrator’s Code, constantly just being out of our judicial grasp. Well, not today.”

              “You look like Maroc.” The tyrant’s name slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it, and the silence that settled was the silence before the ice cracks and the frozen waters swallow you whole.

              “I am no tyrant, Rhawen.” It was a quiet phrase. Deadly quiet.

              Words tumbled out, unchecked and unstoppable. “No. At least, not in name. This Council eats from your hand, though. Surely you know that much. Surely you’ve learned to use it. And this is why you want me gone, isn’t it? It isn’t about the Narrators’ ideals or any thing else like them.” I could feel the horrified stares of my fellow Narrators. They knew all this, had known all this, but here I was, in ill graces, committing virtual or literal suicide by saying the things that were better left unsaid.

              Mevit and I stared at each other for a long time. At length, he said, “Go. You and your Tale are safe.” There was a tacit “for the time being,” understood by all.

              I bowed, and left the room. I could hear the clamor of their voices as I walked down the hall.

[stay-away-from-the-sun]

AEVA - Superstars

[onetakerecords]

[floraflorafloraflorafloraflora]

[kotya-zamuzykal]

Everyone say “Thank you, Michael Gruber!”

[ashenmind]

the transcendence of being to tired to overthink

[laserbobcat]

I doodled some dumb comic! Poor Aeva, she didn’t know they’re shapeshifting monsters from another plane...

[crysdrawsthings]

A little gift for @akaviri-dovah !

Everyone's beloved Aeva, everyone's beloathed Elanor and Vigilance getting all the pats and skritches ;u;

[aevallare]

tagged by the incomparably talented @mercymaker to make my OCs in this! this was actually really difficult and i wish i had given 38 different shoes but here we are. i also think aeva would love to dress up if given the opportunity, and we're definitely looking at pour one out auri lmao

in order - auri | 38 | aeva

i'll tag @dwarfsized @ladyofthecreed @crepsley @p-inkbrush and anyone who wants to do it! mwahmwahmwah

[icantbelieveitsnotbomba]

[tryst-art-archive]

This is archival. You can find my current work @tryskits