warlock wizard Wally scribbles... Thinkings! oh and a bonus bard-ish Barnabys in the corner for flavor
outfit ramblings:
first of all that is a Terrible rendition of what Home looks like in my head. i just needed to fill empty space </3
the staff was the toughest part honestly. bc it Had to be paintbrush-themed, but then halfway through scribbling i was like "oh shit. there are only so many ways to draw a paintbrush-wizard-staff and Weevmo already hit it out of the park." so if you're seeing similarities! you're right! i tried to make it as different as i could! there is Inspiration from their marvelous design, however accidental or subconscious! Apologies!
he gets a pointed hood instead of a hat because a) it looks great on him! and b) it has less of a chance of messing up his hair! also c) it helps muddle the difference between Wizard and Warlock. typically hoods have evil/duplicitous connotation - blur the lines! i want his long gloves and forearm wraps to have the same vibe. his neckerchief is a big help in hiding Home's seal!
his layered (loosely apple-themed) capelet (which the hood is attached to) has a nice high collar & hides the details of his loose shirt - eye embroidery! and some flowers on the shoulders but yk, mostly eyes. on one side of the shirt buttons has open eyes, the other side they're closed! there's also one big eye on his back!
his belt buckle is two halves of an apple! he wears tall thigh-high boots w/ low heels to feel Taller! he has a book-holster hooked to the back of his belt, which holds his grimoire! and he has a lil thigh-bag that has been magicked to be Bottomless and warps size! he can fit pretty much anything in there! canvases! paint! apples!
his half-skirt thing (idk what the word for it is!) is really plush, like a quilt - his capelet is the same fabric. soft, cozy. sometimes he'll use the skirt thing as a blanket in a pinch, or as a picnic placemat!
is his outfit a little Complicated? is it annoying to replicate? yes and yes. but im a maximalist at heart and Nothing But The Best for the blorbo <3 layers my beloved <3
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(actually got around to writing connies rude little ass being rude! yippee!!!!)
You sit on the cold damp ground, your only layer of protection a thin sheet folded thrice over. The chill sneaks into your bones. It's an unusual temperature for this time of year, but you suppose everything in Vaugarde is unusual at the moment. A little cold is nothing compared to the current state of affairs.
You hold a loosely held together manuscript on your lap. The draft is really more or less finished, but since your editor is currently frozen in time, you figured you might as well at least try to be mindful of your own work. Though with all the previous novels in the series at home, you can't easily screen for continuity. Just another reason to get to that wretched King.
Tapping your pencil to paper, your eyes glaze over the text. Ah! Désirée has an extra accent on her name there. You cross it off. No more Désiréé. Honestly, were you asleep while writing this chunk? The sentence structure of the next line is also… a bit off? It's technically correct, but it really would scan better in Poterian than Vaugardian. You miss writing in Poterian. Ugh.
"Conifleur."
You do not look away from your work, though you do jump. "Odile. I'm shocked to see you up this early. And here I though your 'old bones' needed some rest, dear."
"I'm sure. Just like how you are so desperate for your beauty sleep, right?"
You scoff. She thinks she has you clocked. It's annoying in the worst of ways to have to contend with someone who is no better than you. You know her type. You aren't stupid.
"I'm flattered that you're so concerned for me, darling! But can't one work in peace?" Your pencil scratches the page, leaving a thin line across the margin.
She sighs. From the corner of your eye, you catch her rummaging around in a small supply bag. "Of course not. You're here."
"Oh?" You tilt your head in faux-curiosity, "Is the crone annoyed with poor me? I've done nothing to you today, I'll have you know."
"Urgh."
"It's true! You're the one who went out of your way to make yourself known, dear. I was busy."
"Busy working on something that will help us on our travels, I'm sure." She kneels at the fire pit, sparking it with paper craft, "Like lighting the camp fire."
You blink, "I thought we were going to get moving when the others woke?"
"Yes," she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, "but it's cold out. Since you've apparently put yourself on 'watch', it's your job to make sure no one gets sick from it."
… Loath as you are to admit it, she does have you there. You hum in response.
"And where are you off to? I was under the impression that we were still a few days out from the next town."
"There's a caravan that should have set up shop not far from here. I'm doing a supply run. More mouths to feed means we can't afford to rely solely on whatever Isabeau or I can identify and what we have stored." She pulls a coin pouch from her bag by the drawstrings.
That newest mouth to feed. Siffrin was… an enigma. Something about them was familiar to you. You were quite certain you didn't know him personally, but there was a nagging feeling you couldn't shake. They were quite good with that dagger of theirs, though, so you couldn't complain too much.
"Yes, well, I absolutely believe in your ability to charm the merchant into selling us all of their resources for a reduced fee." You say, "You are known for your endearing personality, after all. You positively exude grace."
You don't have to be looking at her to know that she rolls her eyes at you. Hmph. "Gems alive. I'm not going there to haggle, Conifleur. Just to buy."
"Shame," you hum, "and I was so looking forward to a bountiful harvest."
"Are you going to come with me or are you just going to complain at me?"
You jump a bit despite yourself. You just don't understand it! It's no secret that the two of you don't think much of each other, and yet she still invites you along. She has an ulterior motive, surely. To neg you, you suppose. You don't buy it.
You smile, "I thought I was on watch, dear! As talented as I may be, I simply cannot be in two places at once."
"Urgh." She slips her coin pouch back into the bag, slinging it over her shoulder, "By all means. Stay right where you are. I figured someone other than me might enjoy having a say in what I buy for us."
"Wake dear Mirabelle or young Isabeau if you need a second opinion, darling." You scribble out a rough edit of that problem sentence from before.
"… The two of them deserve the rest."
You nod solemnly. That, at least, is something the two of you can agree on. Your companions are much too young for the burdens placed on them. Dear Mirabelle especially.
That said... "That they do. But Rejuvenation only knows that dear Mirabelle will dread waking up so late. Not that it's 'late' at all. You know as well as I how she is."
"Mirabelle would appreciate having a say." She mutters, glancing back at the tents.
"Exactly, darling!" You explain, bright as anything, "You two have fun with that! Until then: I am busy, I fear. Don't bother me anymore. Thank you."
She turns away from you without another word. Good. You can actually think without her incessant badgering.
... The fire warms you in the cold morning. You clench your jaw. You've got work to do, dear. Back to it!
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