zephyrimm

[zephyrimm]

[zephyrimm]

[zephyrimm]

Just some writing

Plotting has been going well so I thought I'd share some.

*The Alter of Twilight*

The Alter Event

They entre a room that could have been confused for a garden, hundreds of closed bud flowers filled the large/long space. The garden has a silver border around it that starts only a few steps from the door.

Sabreal cautiously warns the rest to not cross the line since it might activate the alter. In the center of the room stood a tall statue of Esraellya, the Empress of Esluminia. On the floor were several, spaced out, smooth tiles travelled across the length of the room.

Wren points out that the flowers were Nighten Blooms, but ones far larger than he’d ever seen. Nighten Blooms were commonly grown around the exterior of Moonwake establishments, since the secretions on the outside of the buds sharp exterior can cause unwanted night visitors to pass out.

Elika adds that they snap at the slightest ground movement, claiming that children usually play about them, seeing if they can get them to ‘pop’ their own “heads” off.

Wren explains that they only bloom under moonlight, adding they may not end up being a issue as long as no one touches the buds exterior.

Torin claims that if any of the blooms in front of them were to pierce them, it would not be good, suggesting the Sword find a way across.

Isra points out the statue of the lady, Sabreal states that she is the elven Empress. The party questions her relevance. Eviena comments that the elven empire is only two thousand years old, while the dungeon had been erected some four thousand years prior to this moment.

Elika then points out a word he can spot written on the rooms back wall. Twilight, was written in Mowinven. Isidore agrees with Sabreal that Twilight is also the name of a Grand Arcana card, similar to End and Blazing Light, the last couple of rooms they'd found with a strange aesthetic. Isidore claims that the Twilight card can represent fear, deception and illusions.

Elika murmurs something and Wren translates the conversation for him. Elika and Wren hold a brief exchange of words before both Sabreal and Wren look out towards the statue once again, trying to see what Elika had just pointed out.

The statue held in its hand a disk which looked damningly similar to the top of the last two pedestals they’d found. The pattern on the disc seemed to glimmer in a way the last two didn’t. Sabreal then asks Eviena to dig the purple cloth they’d found earlier out of her bag, the Sword complying.

Sabreal unrevealed the cloth, looking at the design across the length of it. Wren squinted at the disc as Sabreal focused on the cloth, wondering if anyone could tell if the spell script was broken this time. Torin and Isra stood beside Wren, squinting as well but neither could see any better to provide an answer.

While Sabreal continued to examine the cloth, Eviena peers over her shoulder and whispers ‘constellation’ to the Princess. Sabreal seems confused, peering up at her Sword as Evie traced her finger over a marking on the cloth that matched the one on the empress’s disc. Evie mumbles about how a constellation is a pattern of linked stars. The word was like the last piece falling into place for Sabreal.

Sabreal instructed them to throw out the idea that Esraellya is important here because of her place as the Esluminian Empress. She reminds the party that while Esluminia has persisted some 2000 yrs, it’s empress, Esraellya, has lived for over 5000.

Wren mumbles something to Elika, which the priest replies with a confused tone, Wren then asks a question and Elika hands him an envelope wax-sealed by the Great Mother’s elk crest. Sabreal watches the twins intently as they interact, attentively eavesdropping.

Wren cracked the seal on the envelop and pulled from it a letter in their adoptive mothers handwriting. Both their eyes trace across the page before Elika cocks his brow in confusion and Wren sighs in disbelief. Elika would repeat the same question with an increasing amount of panic that made Sabreal begin to chuckle.

The sentence he was repeating was only made up of a few rudimentary words of the Mowinven language, words Isra happened to know and he excitedly shared that fact with Torin. Torin asked for the translation and Isra answered that Elika was saying ‘mother knows we know we are human, yes?”. Torin peered down at Isra with a similar look any adult would give a child who made a ridiculous claim with emphatic confidence. He gave the boy a quiet ‘uh-huh’ before looking to one of the other adults in the party.

Wren confirms to Torin that what the boy had interpreted was in fact correct and the answer to said question was most likely no their mother didn’t think the two had realized they were human and not elves.

He added the possibility that she assumed he (Wren) knew he was human since he’d been living in Ekria for the past eight years. Isra raises his hand like a school boy to ask how Wren and Elika’s mother was relevant. Wren quips that he was getting to it. Wren proceeds to explain that he and Elika are the adoptive sons of Ylvina Uuna, the Great Mother. He claims that he had information to share that no human is allowed to find out about. Wren then asserted that because Arozian royalty was present, it was probably for the best that he not share it, regardless of the help it offers them.

Sabreal glanced at Isidore and quietly claimed that she had a chocolate bar.

Isidore quickly broke to explain that Ylvina Uuna and Empress Esraellya Bleubell are sisters, Ylvina is the older one. No one is meant to know as most Ekrian nations have a poor relationship with Esluminia, especially after the Third border war, but the Servants of the Great Mother are welcomed with opened arms.

Mortal Gods are not permitted to participate in wars between mortals so to avoid human aggression to Ylvina’s parishioners in Ekria during wartimes Esraellya participated in, the two kept their relationship a secret. Isidore continues to explain that the paper lists who is to participate in the alter, Isidore adding that she wasn’t sure why Wren couldn't just share that part of the information. The grown man became slightly flustered by the girl’s accusation, but it was true, he hadn’t thought of that.

Wren sticks his tongue out at Isidore childishly, calling her a tattle. Wren claims he’d planned on just enchanting them to forget when they leave before turning the letter around.

The paper was written in glittering silver ink, the handwriting closer to delicate ornate calligraphy that average penmanship the party was used to reading.

Wren only bothers showing it to Sabreal, as she was the only one who could read it. It listed Sabreal, Wren, Isra and Torin were to participate.

Sabreal claimed that the letter doesn’t explain why the Great Mother or Esraellya would know how to solve the alter puzzle.

Wren states that the fact that Esraellya is represented as an alter might explain a few things but he agrees that it’s strange. Elika mumbles under his breath while folding the letter back up, Wren nods to agree with the priest’s statement. Sabreal then brought up a line from the end of the letter, asking about the we in the statement “I cannot share more of the fate of Branimir, we are not supposed to interfere”.

Isra questions if it’s the other “enlightened ones”. The party looks to the boy for him to elaborate. Isra flushed red as he recalled what the statue had said, pointing out that the mark on Esraellya was glowing and the marks from the last two rooms weren’t. He claims that he was just putting two and two together.

Torin wonders how they would have solved the puzzle if the letter hadn’t come with them on this journey. Sabreal reaches into her bag for Isidore’s promised chocolate as she tells Isra he is most likely on the right track. Sabreal wonders who the “enlightened ones” could be, the possibility was far larger with the inclusion of a non mortal god.

Wren comments that while Esraellya isn’t a Mortal God technically, it isn’t because she was not offered godhood, it was because she denied it. Sabreal thanks him for the information, adding that the ones representing the cards must most likely have been favoured by the gods in one way or another four thousand years ago.

Isra asked why it would be important to know who is which alter, since they won’t know the puzzle regardless. Sabreal explains that the who might dictate part of the what, gesturing to explain that Nighten Blooms are native to the warm climate of Esluminia. The clue may be small but anything is something.

Isra accepts that answer, muttering under his breath that Sabreal knows a lot. Torin whispered to him about how this wasn’t the princess’ first dungeon. Isra asked if it was Torin’s first dungeon. The knight chuckles, claiming that this was only his second dungeon, while this was Sabreal’s eighth official dungeon exploration. Isra took note of the manner Torin said “official”.

Isidore, who’d began to wander while nibbling tentatively on her gifted treat, notices something on the floor just before the entrances to the Nighten Bloom puzzle. Where a silver bar was laid wrapped around the garden’s parameter, a small stamped in image of a pear could be observed. She continued around the as the other held there discussion of what to do. On the right side from the front of the room was stamped with a songbird. To the rear of the room, a castle, and to the left, a lion’s head.

Isidore then relayed the information she had gathered to the party. Sabreal jokingly tells Torin that he’d gotten his answer from earlier.

Wren wonders for a moment how their specific presence could have been predicted, and to what end. Torin questions what he means, claiming it was obvious what they were meant to do. Wren furrows his brow, claiming that he could not so obviously understand the plan of the Gods when it included sending children to fight the devil.

Elika would place a knowing hand on his brother shoulder, speaking a few words that would make Wren angerly cross his arms with a huff and spit a few venom laced words at him (Torin) in Mowinven. Torin was indifference as it wasn’t like he knew what Wren was saying anyhow. Elika would smack his hand against Wren’s shoulder, seeming to insist he quit antagonizing.

Sabreal pinched the bridge of her nose, claiming that bickering wasn’t helping and that Torin is not his Great-Grandfather, an added comment that seemed to only confuse Isra.

She moved on to say they should be focusing on the puzzle since it’s the only way to progress. Isra glanced over at the rectangular garden and the maze of spaced out tiled stones. He asked if the goal might just be to get to the centre, where the statue was, since that’s where the paths led. Sabreal asked Isidore if she noticed anything particular about the stones or the garden during her walk around.

Isidore explained how it looked like the garden itself was slightly below the floor and that the tiles were the opposite, slightly above the floor. She added the the tiles appeared to be decorated but she couldn’t make out very well with what they were decorated.

Isidore hypothesized that some tiles were bad and some were good, where the bad ones would cause your foot to drop into the soil and trigger the Nighten Blooms while the good ones support your weight. Wren claims there was only one real way to find out.

The four participants take there places, Wren murmuring that “this one” better not take eight hours. As all four of them step over the silver bar, the magic sconces cut the lights. Then, as Wren began to complain, the room started to rumble.

A circular section of the ceiling began to slide away, revealing a domed ceiling backlit with a deep blue colour. A small black circle was at the centre of the dome. The black circle flickered on like a spot light for the garden. The party seemed confused, the room had been prefectly well lit before. That was when Wren called out to ask the time, Sabreal looked at her watch to announce the it was half past twenty (2030hrs). He begrudgingly called out that the spotlight was most likely moonlight, since it had been a few days since the new moon that opened Branimir. This fact meant that the Nighten Blooms were now armed and ready for if they were to step on the wrong tile.

(Actual puzzle action)

Sabreal, as she stepped for her last tile ready to join the rest the the statue of Esraellya, slipped off the tile she was currently on. Her boot made a thick thud as it planted itself amongst the flowers. Like lightning, two buds sprung out, one piercing through the muscle of her left thigh and the other punching through her stomach.

To the surprise of most, it was Eviena that crumpled in reaction, Sabreal remaining completely unaffected. She hadn’t even cried out, as though she hadn’t felt any of it. She got herself back on the tile before flicking out a small pocket knife. She cut the stems of the flowers, she removed the flower from her chest, leaving behind a hole in her clothes but not her skin. She looked up to find Wren and Isra staring at her wide eyed. She simply said later before reaching to finish the puzzle.

I apparently only plot in bullet point format.

Feel free to ask question cause I will answer most of them.

[zephyrimm]

I haven't died

I just got a bit stressy-depressy (hardcore mode)

I apologizes to those I may have made commitments to but I will not be able to fulfill my obligations.

I'm probably just gonna keep lurking for a while.

[zephyrimm]

Happy Birthday to Me

It's my birthday, so I scheduled the day off work and made myself a blueberry lemon cake .

[zephyrimm]

By the Gods

I hate fitness tests 🥲🫠

[zephyrimm]

Man, if shit could be a little less stimulating today

That’d be FUCKING great right about now.

I just want brain work good so I can write more 🥺

I’ve been on a roll with plotting my story and developing my characters, I wanna keep rolling man 🥲

[zephyrimm]

Your own oc’s being your blorbos is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand I get to make all the rules and all my headcanons are actually just canon and I can change things and make things up as I see fit. On the other hand I am responsible for creating content for them and furthering their story if I want other people to actually be interested in them. It’s hard out here.

[zephyrimm]

Small blurb from what I've been writing today

I got inspired, wrote words, now I share. Enjoy.

***

Eviena shoved Wren farther down the hall as the ceiling caved in, a chunk of rubble crunching down on her leg with a terrible sound. Far more stones and dirt fell from the ceiling than one would have initially assumed, closing them off entirely from the other half of their party. Wren quickly scuffled to his feet, glancing behind him to spot a panicked Isidore.

“That warning couldn’t have been even two seconds earlier?” He complaining half heartedly.

“You’re allowed to blame him just as much as I do,” Isidore retorted, much to Wren’s surprise.

“It took a cave in for–”

“SHUT UP!” Eviena yelled, Wren’s eye’s snapping to her. She laid prone on the floor amongst the rocks and stones, a thin layer of dust coated her form as she reached behind her to push against the rock that pinned down her leg. “Sh-shut up… and help me,” Her voice faltering near the end. Wren turned his gaze back to Isidore.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“You should help her.”

“Hm, the damned can wait.”

“Fuck you…” Eviena spat venom through grit teeth. For a moment, Wren was glad the Sword wore a blindfold, knowing her eyes must be far meaner than her voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Isidore answered him. He pat her on the head before walking over to [the Sword stuck in the stones]. He shifted the chuck of ceiling, trying to get a feel for it’s weight, all the while shifting the weight atop Eviena’s leg. She choked back a whine, her fists clenched.

“You whimper like a kicked dog,” He snidly remarked, deciding to roll the rock off her leg rather than try to lift it. She had no quip to return with, too interested in nursing her leg. “Let me see,” He grumbled reaching out towards her leg.

“Stay away from me!” She snapped, shifting away from him. Wren would shift his posture and bring his arm back as though preparing to swing. He’d watch her flinch to protect herself and use that moment to grab her leg, healing it.

“You don’t need to be so mean, you know,” Isidore mumbled, shifting her glasses against the bridge of her nose. Wren stood and dusted off his knees.

“I don’t really care,” He responded, stepping over rocks to head towards Isidore. “I assume you can figure out a way back? Isra has the map but I’m pretty sure this loops back somewhere.”

“Uh… I think I have a spell for that,” Isidore pulls a palm-sized booklet from a belt pouch at her waist, fiddling through the thin pages. Wren glanced at Eviena, who still sat within the rubble. She hugged her previously injured leg to her chest.

“Come on, get up,” He snaped his fingers at her. She grumbled something too softly to hear before getting to her feet. Wren took note of her still trembling hands.

“I found the spell,” Isidore states, looking over at Wren.

“Lead the way then,” Wren answered, gesturing down the darkened hall.

***

I love talking about my character's if anyone has any questions 🥺🐀

[zephyrimm]

Anyone else’s art style just do whatever it wants lol

I decided to redraw my OC’s

[old = top, new = bottom]

I like em.

Eviena and Sabreal are the main characters so I draw them more [I’m also gonna be honest that I’m not the best at drawing men… which is 4/7 of the Starslayer’s party] maybe I’ll get the the rest of the party eventually. Probably either Wren or Isidore. I think their designs are pretty solid in my brain.

I also don’t know if I’m conveying it artistically but Sabreal is meant to have monolids.

[zephyrimm]

Some Writing from Today...

Here's some writing I did today, enjoy

Sabreal dusts away the few tufts of fluffy snowflakes that gathered on her eyelashes with a mittened hand. Her gaze would narrow on the horizon, tracing across the crisp line being formed by the contrasting darkness of the Basillisi Von Sea and the paleness of the bleak blanketing of clouds that filled the sky. A dreary day to die, one would think.

A gentle breeze danced across the deck of the Magnolia, snow drifts twirling by Sabreal’s feet as her attention fixated on the door to the Captain’s quarters. Her brows stiffened in annoyance as she thought about the Council of Crown’s delegate that sat within that chamber. They weren’t allowed to disembark until they received the official send off from a Council representative. Said representative had entered the Captain’s quarters under the pretenses of letting the priestess he’d brought along to have some time to prepare for the reading of their final rites. Sabreal completely understood needing time to spiritually ready oneself, but to need an entire hour seemed a bit ridiculous.

“What is taking him so long,” Sabreal would complain to her companion Torin Leolee, dramatically crossing her arms over her chest. “If we waste too much time, we will need to rush our way through the island.”

“Most likely idling as much time as he can in there so he doesn’t have to come stand out here in the cold with us, Princess,” Torin chuckled, “nothing we can do to rush a council member.”

“I know that fact far too well,” Sabreal sighed, dragging the loose strands of linen ribbons that tied off her four thick braids over her shoulder. She gently untangles the ones that had looped around each other as they fluttered about in the stronger winds from earlier that morning.

“I still refuse to believe this is the Starslayer’s party,” Torin commented, his voice low and harsh. Sabreal glanced up at him to watch his brows furrow and his jaw shift. “We cannot possibly be dragging children into Branimir with us.”

“Isidore is a Witch,” Sabreal countered, “I was sixteen when I entered my first dungeon.”

“But your first dungeon wasn’t exactly the Devil’s tomb.” Torin argued “It’s fair to say I don’t want to take her either, but this is who the Council declared as members of the Starslayer’s party. They don’t change their mind often.” Sabreal conceded, she had more to say but was interrupted by the Captain’s quarter’s door swinging open with a long creak.

The delegate stepped out, gathering everyone's attention for a single moment. His uniform was pressed cleanly and as crisply white as winter’s first snow. Sabreal glanced at the bare patch over the delegate’s left breast pocket, scrunching her nose in frustration. A young girl followed out behind him in the familiar garbs of the Temple of the Onoel. The Council delegate strolled over with a disrespectful amount of nonchalance for someone about to wish a group of people well of their journey to Death.

“I apologize deeply for wasting so much of your precious time,” he claimed, “I am Tobias Memoire, the delegate sent on behalf of Ekria’s Council of Crowns.”

“We are ready to depart once we’ve heard what you have to say,” Torin said, crossing his arms over his chest to mimic Sabreal’s posture.

“Right, yes, of course, let us get on with it then.” Tobias clapped his hands.

They’d all then watch as he reached for a piece of paper from his pocket. The sound of him unfolding the pages interrupted the party’s deafening silence. A man in saintly robes scoffed loudly, harsh words in delicate language of the Moonwaken Elves danced off his tongue to disapprove with the delegate’s behavior.

“Pardon?” Tobias raised his brow.

“He’s simply commenting on the cold,” Sabreal deflected with a tight lipped grin. “He’s the Saint from Ystonia, it seems he only speaks Mowinven. Please continue.” Tobias cleared his throat.

“Brave volunteers, today you will stand before the gates of Branimir, where you will cross its threshold in search of the Star Devil. Your goal is one of annihilation, the Devil cannot be permitted to leave the confines of her tomb. Today is marked as the twenty-first day of Mars, year 1783 in the Elysian calendar. It is a new moon’s night and the final time Death’s Door will open.” He would pause to squint at the writing.

“You the… the Star- Starslayer’s party will have until Hunter’s full moon rises, as Arh’guul Es Wesvain’s prophecy dictate. Failure in your mission may very well mean the end of Dinn Yoak as we know it.” The Saint would mumble something to the man beside him, who’d mumble back, earning a hum of acknowledgment from the Saint. Tobias then folded the paper back up, it’s use complete as he stuffed it back into his pocket. He then placed his hand in the shoulder of the priestess. The girl shifted a piece of hair out of the way of her blindfolded eyes.

“She is the priestess the Onoel Temple sent to read your final rites. It is simply a formality for all dungeons of this caliber, the Council of Crowns has full and complete faith in the six of you conquering Branimir.” His lies were sweet, though obvious. Isidore, who sat beside the pack she’d reorganized for their third time already, would recount the party members.

“I am Sister Bernia,” the blindfolded girl’s voice trembled, “I shall pray your final rites, so that if you find yourself in need of safe passage to Fearachnao, the Gods’ will offer you such with open arms.” Sister Bernia would continue to relay the rites to the party, all of them standing still out of respect. This would not be the first time Sabreal would bow her head to those sacred words, she simply hoped that it wouldn’t be her last. Once she finished her prayer, Sister Bernia scurried back to the Captain’s quarter’s to escape the chill that began to blow in. Tobias would step to the side with Sabreal and Torin.

“I am, truly, sorry for how all of this has gone.” Tobias said, the sincerity in his words not seeming to carry on to the rest of the party. “None of us need your pity,” The man beside the Saint barked, a snarled look on his face, “especially not the likes of those two.” “You should speak with more respect, he is a council member.” Torin corrected, “thank you for you words, sir, we will come back victorious.”

“For all of our sakes, I hope you’re right,” Tobias stated, he then stuffed his hands into his pockets and strolled back to the warmth of the Captain’s quarter’s as well. The man beside the Saint would spit a Mowinven curse at Torin, but seeing as he didn’t understand the words, Torin chose to ignore the venom they were spoken with. “Is the boat ready?” Sabreal called over to her Sword, who stood next to the rowboat they intended to use to cross the rest of the way to Olorealo.

“Aye,” The Sword responded coldly.

“Watch your tone, Sword,” Torin snapped with an upturned nose, “simply because we are not standing on Arozian soil does not mean you will speak to you master with any less respect.”

“Aye, Ma’am.” The Sword corrected with narrowing eyes.

“Let us simply get going,” Sabreal stated, pinching the bridge of her nose. She slung her pack over her shoulders and adjusted the straps for optimal comfort. She’d have to try putting on an act of being in better spirits. She was the one with the most dungeon experience, they would look to her for answers. She had to look confident.

The party of seven then proceeded to board the row boat, each of them cramped in like sardines. Some of them hugged their bags to their chest, others leaned on them for comfort. The Sword took her place in between the oars and with a nod of approval from Sabreal, she began to row the boat off towards Olorealo.

The first ten minutes were awkward, the noisy silence of the boat was uncomfortable. The rhythmic beats of the oars against the blue sea, the sniffling of chilled noses, and the crunching and shifting of fabrics as those abort shifted themselves for comfort all melted together to form a slow, dull harmony that drove Sabreal up a wall.

“We’d best use this time to get to know one another,” she’d announce, earning shifty glances from those around her. “We’re going to be put our lives in each others hands for the next six months. I’d like to know the hands my life is being held by.”

“I agree with you, my lady, it is hard to build the foundation of respect with a person you don’t know the name of.” Torin agrees.

“You two are starting to sound like posters…”

“Oh, wow, thank you for volunteering to be the first to talk about themselves.” Sabreal chirps with a pointed stare. The man sighed.

“I’m Wren Ziver.” he answered, watching as her stare didn’t waiver. “I’m twenty-four…” He raised a brow at her continued stare, “and I’m an Iron Smoke, by the Gods what do you want woman.”

“Oo, an Enchanter, fascinating.” Sabreal grins, “I am Sabreal Crimsons, I am twenty-three and a Silver Shield.”

“I’m Torin Leolee, twenty-seven, I am a knight of Arozia.” Torin announced to the rest.

“Leolee?” The Saint would mutter under his breath.

“So the two of you are Arozian?” Wren questions, “I thought Ifreetians were known for their long, luscious hair. First two I ever meet though have hair shorter than mine.” Sabreal’s demeanor shifted, reaching for the end of one of her braids, which stopped no longer than an inch from the nap of her neck.

“We cut it to mourn our own deaths,” Sabreal explained, “since, if we fail, there won’t be anyone left to mourn us.”

“Sorry I asked,” Wren mumbled, shifting against his bag to look off towards the island more comfortably.

“I’m Isidore Crow, I’m sixteen, and I’m a Bronze Seer.” Isidore squeaked, her voice as timid as a shrew.

“E ui Elika Ziver, ui vint-qutre, et ui Saint de Ylvina Uuna,” The Saint declared proudly from where he sat.

“So the two of you are related? I wouldn’t call Ziver a common last name.” Sabreal asks.

“Yes, we are twins, but we have not spoken in a very long time.” Wren answers honestly.

“Um, I’m Isra Enisle, I’m eleven and I’m the son of Owen Enisle, Lord of Goldbia.” The timid boy spoke up.

“So we have an Abjurer, an Enchanter, a Diviner, a Saint, a knight, a boy and a Sword?” Torin counted off, humming to himself, “Not actually the worst if I spell it out like that.”

“Oh yes,” Sabreal rested a hand on her Swords shoulder as they rowed, “this is my Sword, Eviena.”

“You named your Sword?” Wren chuckled.

“She has a soul, she deserves a name,” Sabreal narrowed her gazed.

“Eh, Princess, if you believe the damned soul of your very expensive toy there deserves a name, have it ‘er.” Wren chirped.

“Well I guess that’s introductions out of the way,” Torin ended the conversation, the boat returning to its uncomfortable silence.

[zephyrimm]

Me trying to explain the lore of my story to my bf

[zephyrimm]

My mean mug

Its effectiveness

It’s weakening

People think I’m… approachable?

Blasphemous

[zephyrimm]

Just some scene prepping 🙂

Sabreal hopped from the boat first, her thick winter boots digging into the shiny, see-through pebbles that lined the beach. She gathered several in her palm to inspect them. She watched as they begun to shimmer with flecks of red and gold.

“They’re reacting with my mana,” she hummed, inspecting them closely.

others pick up the pebbles, the witches acknowledging that Sabreal may be correct, while Torin is confused that the stones glow for him. They glow for Eviena as well, a colour non recognize. Before they tredge onward into the woods, Isra picks up a few pebbles, finding they glow the same as the Sword, tho far fainter. He feels his skin grow cold as a haunting realization creep into his mind.

[zephyrimm]

I got a snow day

Whop whop

Might spend it drawing

Don’t know yet

[zephyrimm]

[zephyrimm]

Gave it a chance, I'm watching the whole thing

vector merge scene is still a little iffy tho

🤷

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

MY FAVOURITE ANIME IS GETTING A NEW ADDITION

FUCK YES

GO AQUARION

I'm not sure if the art style is my favourite tho but I'll give it a chance