valoisfulcanellideux

[valoisfulcanellideux]

To go along with this mood board, I'm starting to put together a playlist for inspiration. Here's one of the early tracks on it:

It's still very early in the plotting process, but here's a mood board that'll give you a little sneak peek at some of the aesthetics and ideas behind the next Pixlriffs fic that I'll be working on once A Tale of Two Devotions is complete.

It already has a title, but as with all my fics while they're being teased before I start posting, you're only getting its initials, which are: TDHD.

[valoisfulcanellideux]

The Jewel of the Sands.

Just going back through some of the screenshots that I took while writing These Stones Remember. I still love these ones.

[valoisfulcanellideux]

A Tale of Two Devotions - Chapter 29

Cradled in muted light and a comfortable warmth, Sha'bĭah slowly rose to consciousness. The drowsiness that he felt told him that it was probably still mid-morning, a time of day through which he usually slept soundly. But since the night of the Vigil’s destruction his sleeping schedule had been in a state of utter disarray, and he had grown almost accustomed to awakening at times when neither his body nor his mind were at their best. But these times were also when he was at his most vulnerable. His movements were sluggish, his mind fogged, and his eyes unable to focus clearly. Once he had realised that Nashĭd had returned his weapon belts, Sha'bĭah had insisted on the table upon which they lay being pulled right up against the bed, one blade uppermost with its hilt within reach of the pillow. Nashĭd had acquiesced with a smile, murmuring to him of how the guard captain had said that a soldier’s blades were a part of him. How right he had been. That blade was now in Sha'bĭah’s hand as he raised himself up on one elbow, staring at the foot of the bed where a blurred and shadowy unfamiliar figure stood, haloed by the sun behind it and silently watching him. “Who are you and what do you want?” Sha'bĭah growled, the blade pointed at the figure. Steady. Purposeful. He might be unable to walk, move quickly, or even see properly right now, but he could still strike if the figure came any closer, and his throwing knives and poison darts were within easy reach. Buggering gods. Why now? Why now, when his faculties were severely reduced? He couldn’t even see anything more than that dark and blurred outline against the light, but every instinct screamed at him that this was not a safe person. It was not Maq’sha, not Nashĭd, not Q'adasĭm the guard captain. This was an unknown. And his true identity was fully exposed to them.

Read it in full at AO3: A Tale of Two Devotions - Chapter 29

Artwork by Sabira/floweroflaurelin.

[valoisfulcanellideux]

You're getting a long chapter today

Almost 11,900 words.

This is why I changed my posting schedule from Monday to Sunday. There's no way I can get that much proofreading/previewing done on AO3 in my lunch break xD

[valoisfulcanellideux]

So, here's an awkward (and somewhat hilarious, given how badly it tricked my brain) continuity issue with my 'mental map' of the palace of Rafatan Pĭksel in A Tale of Two Devotions.

The king's rooms are - as I've made frequent mention - high up in the palace. People look up to the constantly-burning lamps in the windows, high up on the exterior walls, etc. Nashĭd has often looked down from those windows to the streets below, and I've also written the intimation that some of the rooftops of the city's houses are at either the same level or only a little above those windows.

And yet... when Nashĭd leaves his rooms - to go to the audience room, or through that audience room to the entry way out onto the streets, or when Sha'bĭah is carried inside from the dungeons - it's all on the same floor level - the ground floor.

It's like I have two 'mental maps' for the palace: one internal, and one external. And they both get mixed up. I literally only just realised this as I re-read the story over the weekend, and it was such a facepalm moment that I feel almost embarrassed by it.

So I thought I'd share it xD

[valoisfulcanellideux]

Scrivener's default, which is Sitka Text:

fanfic writers what font do you write in

i know on ao3 it's all in verdana but when you're drafting the fic in word or docs or whatever

[valoisfulcanellideux]

I'm neither confirming nor denying anything, but I'm sitting here and grinning, because I love this!

All I will say is that yes, it is going to be dark, but in a different way to how AToTD is dark. There will be a lot of different influences in this one.

It's still very early in the plotting process, but here's a mood board that'll give you a little sneak peek at some of the aesthetics and ideas behind the next Pixlriffs fic that I'll be working on once A Tale of Two Devotions is complete.

It already has a title, but as with all my fics while they're being teased before I start posting, you're only getting its initials, which are: TDHD.

[valoisfulcanellideux]

It's still very early in the plotting process, but here's a mood board that'll give you a little sneak peek at some of the aesthetics and ideas behind the next Pixlriffs fic that I'll be working on once A Tale of Two Devotions is complete.

It already has a title, but as with all my fics while they're being teased before I start posting, you're only getting its initials, which are: TDHD.

[valoisfulcanellideux]

The end of chapter 5 - posted 23rd July 2024:

He heard the soft scrape of his weapon belts being lifted from the table, followed by the shuffle of old feet across the sandstone floor, and finally the closing of the door. Sleep claimed him, taking him down into a dream where his own hand held that trident, his fingers charged with its power as he hurled it with all his strength at the greatest enemy he had ever faced.

The middle of chapter 25 - posted 25th April 2025:

He leapt up onto the crates, jumping from one to the next until he could pitch himself forward onto the roof, rolling up onto his feet. The trident thrummed and crackled in his hand, and it didn’t even cross his mind that it was only supposed to do that in the hand of the king. He stood, vulnerable and exposed on the rooftop. He raised his arm. He gauged the distance. The trident shivered, sparks crackling along its tines and down its entire length, and he hurled it with every ounce of his strength at the ring of flames that flickered around the base of the Vigil.

I do rather like to plan ahead ;)

[valoisfulcanellideux]

“You’re thinking with the head of a man grown. Now think with the head of a child.” “That head’s too long ago in my past for me to remember what it thinks like,” Maq’sha grumbled.

Maq'sha, shooting from the (arthritic) hip there...

[valoisfulcanellideux]

hands / weapons

Coming sooooooon ;)

[valoisfulcanellideux]

A Tale of Two Devotions - Chapter 28

When Maq’sha opened his eyes and peered blearily out from beneath the arm he’d flung over his face, he winced as his back twinged, his neck cracked, and his shoulder protested all the way down to his elbow. Buggering gods, he was too old for sleeping on a couch. Gingerly, he eased himself into a sitting position, yawning hugely as he stretched and tried to ignore the various cracks and clicks and assorted other noises and aches of age that assaulted his body. He yawned again and scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, willing the bleariness away by force alone. With a multitude of tiny stars finally prickling behind his eyelids, he lowered his hands and looked about himself. Through the tall open windows, the pale light of dawn was beginning to ease her fingers into the room, peeking and creeping along the polished sandstone floor toward the bed. And in that bed - oh, the gods be praised! - Sha'bĭah slept peacefully, his face relaxed, his head tilted to one side and facing toward… Maq’sha’s crabby old heart softened almost as much as his face did in that moment, as he beheld Nashĭd - the powerful and exalted Desert King - curled up in a comfortable chair as close to the bed as it could be dragged. His sandals had been shucked off and his bare feet were tucked beneath him, as though the cool night had chilled them, and he was trying to keep them warm beneath his backside. His arm was outstretched, his hand clasping that of his sleeping brother, and his cheek was pillowed on his shoulder as he slept the sleep of the exhausted.

Read it in full at AO3: A Tale of Two Devotions - Chapter 28

Artwork by Sabira/floweroflaurelin.

[valoisfulcanellideux]

Hey, at least it was made of dirt. Could've been worse...

For sale: empire of dirt, never had😞

[valoisfulcanellideux]

I've been busy IRL, which is why it's been a little quiet over here. So have a little teaser for what I've been working on in between The Busy™ (chapter 29, still).

I've edited the first line of dialogue in order to post this here, as the actual dialogue contains an action that's a mild spoiler, but here's an irritated qashashĭn and his exasperated guardian, talking to a bemused king...

“When did you learn to use a throwing knife, eh?” Sha'bĭah asked. Nashĭd smiled. “You think that the tutelage of a young prince is all politics and philosophy, brother?” “I wouldn’t know,” Sha'bĭah grunted. “I never had that.” “Ignore him,” Maq’sha griped. “He’s like a camel with a fly-bitten arse today.”

Chapter 28 will be going up tomorrow ;)

[valoisfulcanellideux]

Sha'bĭah sighed, gazing out over the city. “I miss the rooftops,” he whispered. “I miss their tiles beneath my feet. There is always a breeze up there, you know. You can catch every scent, hear every sound, know the way the dunes will be moving from the smoke of the hearth fires.” “And this is how I find out my brother has the heart of a poet,” Nashĭd said softly.

Little sneak peek from chapter 29, currently in progress ;)

[valoisfulcanellideux]

I've been making very undignified squealing noises in the general direction of my emails this evening.

You'll see why before we reach the end of this fic... 😉

[valoisfulcanellideux]

Psst!

That thing you (AToTD readers) have been waiting for?

It's happening in chapter 28...