#Essie rw
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look at these absolute fools
They love each other, they just don’t know it yet >:3c
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I can't do hair, but I can give myself a mani-pedi 😁 #nailpolish #essie #fishnetstockings (at Garden Grove, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_qqeIZp-RW/?igshid=16fv4sdjy6a83
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And all the shade is, illuminating
And all those love lines are taking shape
And all my worries, disintegrating
And I’ve been waiting, I’ve been waiting,
And all my days were young and wasted
When I was waiting, all for you
And all the plans that I’ve been chasing
Were always fading
But ever since I found you
A little light is breaking through
Had to add a basic gardenia flower in the background becuz, you know, their symbolism meaning of secret love and good luck (;
#royal draws#Essie rw#this song gives me such amon @ essie vibes#not completely satisfied w/ this art but it's late and i'm lazy and done w/ this
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Inktober- 14. Overgrown
what happened to the 500 word limit? i uuuuhhh.... forgot >>;
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How long had he been gone, for home to turn into this? It shouldn’t be possible for the Illiad estate to be so overgrown in such a short span of time. Ivy and honeysuckle had taken over the exterior, climbing over windows and doors. A few stray trumpet flowers dangling their vibrant orange blooms grew on the east, and ominous wisteria on the west.
The building looked empty inside as he proceeded. Stone crumbled and floorboards creaked beneath his boots. Everything was once more covered in a thick layer of dust. The windows were hazy. Amon sneezed as he moved through the hauntingly silent corridors. The air was stale; particles floating in faint light.
The nobleman turned around to ask his comrades a question. He was alone. He’d forgotten it was all over now. What was he going to do without a quest to chase, a riddle to solve, a thrill to warm his blood?
Passing a series of windows, his eyes peered to the horizon. Pulsating solar winds danced in the distance, taking on shades of mint and wine against a sky painted with the last rays of the setting sun. It looked like a fire had been snuffed out, much like his own.
The shutters to the windows rattled and the wind outside roared as he entered his private study. There was a taste of iron in his mouth he couldn’t explain.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Amon whirled towards the door, delight welling in his chest.
“Essätha?”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The footsteps approached; closer now. His smile wavered as they came to a halt outside the door. They were much too heavy, and much too deep to be Essie’s.
He opened his mouth, but his voice was gone before he even tried. The heavy door slammed open, and he jumped back.
“Stand straight and raise your head, Amon,” a booming voice thundered. “A real man never cowers.”
Horrified, he stumbled back from the steely figure that entered the room. Glaring eyes loathing him, belittling him, demeaning him.
“F-Father-”
“You weren’t ready to be a lord then, and you’re not ready now,” it sneered, the looming figure stepping into the light. He looked just as he did when Amon was just a boy; towering, brutish, imposing. When he walked, the ground seemed to tremble.
“I didn’t mean to-”
“You disgrace this family.”
“Father, please-”
“You never learned, Amon. Look me in the eye, boy. You are an Illiad man, act like it-”
“I WON’T, I’M NOT LIKE YOU!”
Wide-eyed as his voice cracked at the end, Amon raised a forfeiting hand.
It was too late. Arthur’s face was red and livid, and he raised his arm-
Amon startled suddenly, gasping for breath as he awoke. He gripped his chest, trying to slow his rapidly beating heart from leaping out of his breast.
The bed squeaked. A soft, tiresome sigh escaped the figure at his side, and he jolted. His eyes went to the right, and then the left shakily to examine the room. He was in his bedchambers?
His eyes moved back to the exhausted, troubled gaze of the woman lying next to him. Glowing amber and golden hues ventured over his features; twin suns blazing in the middle of the night. They echoed a warmth from the heart he was familiar with in his own.
“M’lord Amon? Are you alright-”
Amon exhaled loudly as she brushed her hand against his arm. When he didn’t retreat, she brushed a gentle touch up his shoulder, to his cheek. He leaned into the palm of her hand. Her fingers moved to his hair then, carding through dark locks slowly.
“Beloved-?”
Reaching for Essätha, he grabbed her tightly. She gasped, and he shivered. He laid himself against every inch of her, his face lost against the space between her throat and her collarbone.
His first day back in his bed after being away so long, and this?
A soft cooing sound escaped Essie, and her gentle hands wrapped around his shaking frame. She huddled him closer as he balled up; draped a leg over his own. He rubbed his face against his neck to bury himself in her skin. She barely refrained a drowsy laugh from his beard tickling her exposed skin, and it helped him shed a little more of the nightmare out of his head. Soft lips pecked the top of his head a few times; soothing words muffled and lost near his ear as his racing heartbeat steadied to a crawl.
He was not his father. He would never be his father.
Essätha rubbed his back in circles; distracting him. “Shhh, I’m here, love. I’m here, my heart.”
His tension eased a little. The nobleman nuzzled himself against her welcoming soft grasp with a weary sigh.
He would never live up to the ideal standards before him. He could never make Arthur Illiad proud of him; or make him love him, or even now, confront the man who tormented him so badly in his youth.
But he had Essätha. Her steady love, devotion, dedication and belief in him. His true home, in her embrace and in her arms. The whisper of her love in his ear, the comfort of her lips, the support of her strength and wise words. Never giving up on him. Never out to hurt him.
She was all he wanted, and all he needed.
He kissed the side of her jaw gratefully; melting as she gave a dreamy little hum of gratitude.
Lord of the Emerald Expanse, Protector of Briarton, Bearmaster, Hero of Etheron. Countless titles to brand himself with now. He was just fine being Amon Thomas Illiad, the man she loved.
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My wonderful, beautiful gorl... love her.... so much.... my daughter....
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Inktober- 6. Husky
*quietly* son of a bitch
this will be the only piece that deviates that 500 world limit i imposed, for reasons. 715 word count.
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“Come closer, darling.”
She obliged, taking a seat beside him. His eyes were droopy, but the smile he wore was true and adoring. It always rattled her, the way he stared at her. The kind of look she’d seen shared between few people in life; one that never made any sense, but now she understood. Her heart comprehended.
It wasn’t enough. He moved closer. Slowly, almost collapsing into her side as he leaned into her curves. The warmth of his ragged breath was on her throat. He nestled himself there.
A half-smile. Gradually she leaned back, laying on the edge of the bed. He grumbled with impatience. By the time she was laid back; propped up by the pillows, he was comfortable once more. Head on her abdomen, her fingers brushing through his black and white. hair. She hummed for him; quiet and reassuring.
“Thank you.”
“Anything for you, m’lord Amon.”
He sighed tiredly. One look at her, and she melted. The tender slight curve of his lips, the warmth lit in the faint cloudy haze of cataracts in his eyes. He had the most handsome face.
“You are an angel,” he rasped in a husky voice, holding out his hand to cradle her cheek. It seemed to take effort to keep his arm at this angle with weakened muscles and aching joints. He was steady though. Gentle as ever. Careful with her.
She held his hand. Kissed his fingers, his palm, his knuckles. Rested it slowly just below her breast, and held it there as he sighed musically once more.
“I like his blouse. Its soft.” He rubbed his whiskery beard against her torso. “The peach color goes well with your eyes. Is it new?”
“Yes.” She lied; her fond, adoring smile growing.
He nodded. “I thought so.” Another husky, tired murmur. “Is the doctor still coming today?”
She prayed the strain on her lips wasn’t showing. “… Not today, m’lord. Rest your eyes though, its been a long day.”
“Has it? Mmm… Yes, alright. I do fancy a rest. I love you, my beautiful Essätha.”
“I love you, my handsome Lord Amon.”
He closed his eyes, and breathed deep and heavy. It didn’t seem to take much for him to drift off, wrapping his arms loosely around her like a pillow. She combed her fingers through his locks, still humming.
The door opened. She was grateful he’d fallen asleep so swiftly. Raising a hand, she signaled for silence; to which the man gestured with a nod and false smile. He closed the door quietly and approached the bedside.
“Sorry for the wait, my Lady.”
“That’s alright. Your… findings?”
A pause. He studied the Illiad, then her. He said nothing.
She nodded. “… Same time next week?”
“… I would like to see him every other day now, if that would be alright-”
“Yes, of course.”
The doctor gave an apologetic smile, and turned to leave. He stopped at the door.
“Madam?”
“Mmm?”
“… Enjoy the time, while you have it,” they advised. “It’s beginning to look like… a miracle; considering the rapid health decline, how long he’s lasted this year. I don’t use that word lightly.”
Another nod. She felt nothing.
The door opened. She could vaguely pick up the solemn last words: “He may only still be here for you.”
The door closed.
For her. For her. Because of her? Because he loved her? Because she asked without saying? Because he knew she needed him; wanted him, was frightened of the painful, impossible, lonely, isolating, heartbreaking idea of a life… without him?
She placed her arms around him, sucking in large breathes of air to keep her chest from heaving. Guilty. Hurting. Sorrowful. Her heart constricted, and tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes.
She didn’t want to face a goodbye. She wasn’t ready.
She held him; delicate as glass, and tried to swallow around her thick, mournful weeping and the tightness of her throat as he snored, comfortable and lovingly oblivious. It was all she could be grateful for. The only thing as the world seemed to open up, and dare to swallow her happiness.
“It’ll be okay, my love,” she whispered. “I have you. I’ve always got you. I always will, and always will, my heart; m’lord Amon.”
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Inktober- 5. Build
my fucking HEART you GUYS-
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“What are you doing?”
“Oh uh… n-nothing,” Essätha fibbed. She forced a smile while glancing over to the nobleman, keeping a steady hand on the pillow in front of her. One false move; even a moment’s lack of support, and it would fall over again.
He raised a curious eyebrow to her, and continued to stare. Realizing he was going to await an explanation, she sighed. “… I was just… making a pillowfort to lay under while I took some educated notes.”
Amon’s expression was strangely blank. He blinked a few times, looking over the precarious and half-collapsed structure. “A… what?”
“A… pillowfort? You know… pillows, blankets, stacked and…” her voice trailed away, guilty and shameful as the confusion grew in his expression. Oh my god. He’d never made a pillowfort before? She hadn’t the child whimsy to make one in years, but that was her idea of a bed most of her young life. She’d never met a soul who didn’t or had never made a pillowfort before.
Eagerly waving her arm, she offers an enthusiastic grin. “Come join me, it’ll be fun! Just us.”
Confusion turned to unease. His dark eyes moved over her, and then the various textured mound of shapes and sized cushions and covers. He made up his mind though, meeting her eyes. A single deep breath, and he tentatively approached.
“How do you… do this?”
Essie grinned, grabbing his hands. “There’s no order or reason! You’re aim is for stability, not perfection. They’re meant to be something comfy, and private.” She giggled. “If we make it big enough, there’ll be enough room for two under for sure. Here, grab an end to the blanket over there, and pull it taunt to stretch over that chair over there, would you?”
A flash of anxiety flickered in his eyes. She watched how careful he was, taking one end to stretch out as she took the other to pull it over the arm of the chair. It kept sliding off as she tucked the fabric of her end around, and he’d continue hovering and staring as though that would keep it in place.
Placing a few pillows on her side to keep it in place, Essie slithered over to offer him a pillow. “This will offer support. Place it on end to keep it from sliding, m’lord.”
The nobleman offered her a half-smile, and accepted. He placed the cushion, and searched for another. Two placed adjacent, and he smiled a bit broader as the blanket held in place.
“Great! Now I was putting a line of pillows around the sides for privacy, would you mind helping?”
“… I suppose, yes.”
One by one, they piled a heaping spread of pillows and quilts. Essätha laid out a few sets beneath the tunneling entrance they made for extra comfort. Amon offered her extras. She blushed as their hands brushed.
They were building much more than a pillowfort for two.
“Join me inside?”
He grinned. “I would love to, Essie.”
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Inktober- 4. Freeze
oh shit i’m almost late but now i’m almost ready to pass out so i win i guess becuz now sleeb
Prompt List
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Essätha realized it’s hard to climb up a ladder with hands slick and sticky with blood. It was better than the alternative, though She was grateful for the opportunity to climb rather than fall victim to the carnage behind them. She had to remind herself not to look back at it; the massacre of the fallen with their blood staining the ground and smell of rotten corpses was repulsive.
Abernathy took her hand to guide her up the last few rungs as she reached the top, and the next level to the enormous cavern appeared as disturbing a scene as the rest had. Luckily the remains here appeared not as fresh. Apparently, not many adventuring parties got this far.
“I think I see something,” Sulhadur warned, readying his shield as Abe helped haul up the grumbling warlock.
“Something’s definitely watching us,” Adela agreed.
Ravamora, listening to the Tiefling’s eerie third-eye remark, moved forward into the shadows. She was out of sight for everyone but Essie in no time; and it left the Dragonborn shuffling anxiously.
“She’s fine, Sul.” Her eyes moved, tracking the young wood-elf.
“This is… exhausting,” Penimra panted, rubbing his lower back. “What a waste of time. We could be sitting up in some rich guys house protecting them from the Whispering Cult right now instead of this smelly dungeon.”
They ignored the whining high-elf. Pri’cha, lifting their ignited candle stick, held it out to the impervious darkness. A shadow stalked along the edge of their light, and then Rava materialized once more with an impish little grin.
“Nothing to report.”
The rickety ladder clattered behind them, and a series of swear words followed.
Essie passed the kid A Look.
By the time she turned towards the commotion, Abe already pulled Amon up over. An arrow stuck out from the nobleman’s calf. Barely out of the range of fire, another series of arrows came flying up, barely missing the half-orc’s head.
A shriek. Whipping around, Essie and the team spotted the toothy grinning kobold as it retreated back into the darkness, holding a dagger coated in Adela’s blood. Almost immediately, another came flanking. Then another. A slash towards the tiefling, and a jab towards Pri’cha who hopped out of the way with an alarmed chirp.
As a rock hurdled past the Yuan-Ti’s head and bonked Penimra in the head, she extended a hand towards the shifting mass and piercing eyes glowing in the darkness. The cleric raised their candlestick unanimously in time. An orb of light like a miniature sun burned brightly in the air above them, so the reptilian folk hissed and threw stones in retaliation.
As a few pebbles glanced off Sulhadur’sarmor, Essie murmured a few words. Like a chain reaction, a number of kobolds huddled close were suddenly refrained; frozen in place by a force of magic as her will clutched them into stasis.
“Freeze,” she mocked, containing them easily. “… Or struggle, and meet our cleric’s Patron’s holy light from the sun. Your choice.”
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Inktober- 3. Bait
Stop You Two Dat’s Too Cute
Prompt List
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Eyes squinted, she watched with a fixated gaze as the floater bobbed up and down. It followed the traces of current moving through rippling water, floating along the river bank before she’d reel it in again, and cast the line out.
“Caught anything yet?”
“The point is to remain quiet, Bearmaster; this isn’t tracking ursa.”
“Ouch, my pride,” the nobleman drawled out, casting her a glance. He leaned back to grin, a wildness to his smile. “Patience is a virtue; and you inherit it wonderfully Essie, but there is a time to… call it quits. And for the record: proper bear tracking does require silence. You’re tracking after all, not hollering into every potential den you see. That’ll just get you mauled, or scare away your hunt before you get close.”
She hissed like a viper, and raised her chin up. “You don’t think I can catch a fish? Because I can. I can catch a damn fish.”
“Maybe you’re not using the right kind of bait,” he offered gently.
Essätha puffed up her cheeks at Amon. Turning away, she tugged up her line to reveal the limp beetle hanging from the end. Its iridescent shell was soggy; long since drowned and stopped twitching.
“Don’t tell me this doesn’t look tasty to you.”
He laughed. “Toss that thing away; and perhaps try a worm.”
She arched her brows. “So you’re a fishing expert now?”
“I never said that.”
“Are you saying that a spindly little noodle is more appetizing snack than a juicy beetle?”
She giggled at the revulsion in his expression. It smoothed out after a second, and he chuckled himself as he scooted across the springy grass closer towards her.
“I prefer ‘beautiful woman with a heart of gold’, but that’s my taste,” he murmured, lashes low.
A deep blushing instantly ignited her cheeks. She shoved at him, laughing as he leaned further and further over, until he was practically hovering over her retreating form.
“Shoo! I’m not fishing for compliments; or a handsome lord, right now!”
“Oh but darling, I came peeking out of my shell just to catch a glance at you,” he cooed, reaching out to cup her cheeks. “The sun did not call me, but I wanted to bathe within her warm presence, anyway.”
“Shut your mouth.”
“Make me.”
Her face was absolutely glowing now. She giggled, shy and girlish, at the challenge in his voice, and the smile in his eyes. With one hand to her reel, Essie slid the other beneath his chin and accepted that challenge; warm lips, proud smirk and all.
Lost in the intoxicating kiss, she didn’t feel the tug on the reel. Then another. Then, suddenly, it jerked violently out of her hands and was sucked into the water, causing them both to startle.
Peering out from the river, a Kelpie rose up to glare at them, holding the remains of her fishing pole in its jaws.
She grew pale. “Maybe I should have went with the worm.”
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Inktober- 2. Mindless
Well then.
Prompt List
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She didn’t think.
Her hand flies up, and words fall from her lips in a dead language. Flashes of light so bright they’re blinding; magic colliding, vision gone blank and blurred. The attack is brutal and it leaves her winded. The world is tilting. Essätha manages to make eye contact with the vacant, empty black stare of the figure and her body is paralyzed. She feels numb.
Curses tumbles out of her and the figure lurches from the hex. Their pursuit is endless. Thoughtlessly driven forward. She’s tougher than this though; she tells herself so. She can take a swing. She can take a pummel of the arcane and still press forward. She can take trauma and has swallowed that pill and still found the ability to move on.
“Get behind me,” she hisses.
The change is frighteningly fast. One second she is in one set of skin, and then she is within another. The world feels different from this body. Her perspective is different; tastes and smells are stronger, the vibrations of the earth seem to hum beneath her scales.
Foolishly, she strikes. Her teeth meet nothing but shadow.
The hive of drones grow agitated. It is one volley storm of magic after another. Cries of pain that are her own, others that are not. She turns to snap at another, misses. Lunges to curl against another, and immobilizes it. The thrash of its struggles cause distract from her casting; sending wayward spells hurtling randomly. Luckily no one is hit, but some organic plant life nearby pays the price and melts beneath a puddle of sizzling acid.
The captive breaks free, and lashes out at her. Who was the fool now? Essie jerks back, recoiling with a sharply drawn breath. A hazy smear of blood blinds one of her eyes. There is a crackling pop of witchcraft behind her, and another stream of magic washes over her back. It burns like fire.
Another set of void lifeless eyes meet hers. They react without emotion or thought; only instinct and violence. The first strike of the curved blade barely misses her, but the second swipe they take sinks ruthlessly deep into flesh.
Everything is now a throbbing painful ache. She blindly attacks, hearing something cry out but unsure as to what. There is blood in her jaws now. The taste is vile and metallic.
“Essätha, get down!”
She follows instructions, and a searing heat blazes overhead. There are numerous shrieks of agony. Something else hits her, and she spins around to snap at it, hood flared. There is terrified screaming. She’s no longer sure whose more afraid, them or her.
A solid thump. The wet sound of a weapon sliding through a body. She shivers; trying to see with only one eye not blinded by blood, head whipping around. Someone is closing in rapidly; her entire body can feel the vibrations in the air. Following her feral animal’s mindless approach, she latches on to the nobleman’s shoulder.
She didn’t think.
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Not my proudest (forgot an arm too whoops) but Dem Bedroom Eyes 👀
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I choose to love you without fear
No shame in being sincere
And I guess I’ve known it all along,
The truth is: You have to be soft to be strong
Finally, I feel the fear is gone
I found out, love has to be soft to be strong
Soft To Be Strong
#royal draws#essamon ship#Essie rw#amon illiad#this song stabbed me in the heart weeks ago and i still listen to it obsessively
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Inktober- 19. Sling
I don’t like sling it’s hard to work with??? But w/e I finished it and now I’m gon’ sleep this bitch be tired.
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Apprehensively, Essätha picked up the bundle of netting; watching it stretch and cascade down into a pile at her feet. She went from eyeing it, to looking up to stare at the proudly grinning nobleman. His chest was protruded, a look of delight in his face that couldn’t be denied. He looked as eager as she did when they went to the candy shop.
“I don’t know about this, m’lord. Have you ever put one of these up…?”
“Well, no. But don’t you think a hammock will be nice?”
Oh with that smile, how could she not be? In fact, she was smiling now too, though had no recollection of wanting to. He was just so easy to be happy around. His joy was a magnet, and she tuned in to chase his frequency wavelength and go crashing into whatever ideas escaped him.
Unable to help thinking of how cruddy it was going to feel laying on a bunch of rope weaving that looked like fishnet, she nodded. “I guess we could give it a try…”
“Exceptional- now, I’ve just the place in mind for it…”
Gathering the hammock and some hooks, they headed out back of Illiad manor. The further out they went from the house, the more Essie grew weary of this project.
“We’re not putting it close to the house…?”
Amon shook his head, still grinning. “I have a more private location in mind, and a good view, too.”
So she followed, curious but still unsure. They made it to a couple of trees a comfortable distance apart, nestled near a groove. Looking back, they had to be at least forty meters away from the back of the household.
“Aren’t those screws going to hurt the tree?”
“No; judging by Abe’s knowledge, anyway. The tree will grow around them, like an extra limb.”
Anchoring the suspension hooks to the tree took the majority of the time. There was only so much ‘screwing a tree’ jokes she could make before it grew bland (the first joke had been bad enough), so she sat crisscross on the grass and waited. She pulled dandelions up and twirled them in her fingers; tying their steams together into knots to make a bracelet. She laid down to check the clouds, and part of the way through trying to decide if the one she was looking at now was an ochre jelly or grey ooze Amon called for her assistance.
“You hold this end,” he instructed enthusiastically. “I’ll sling it up over here first.”
“You’re testing it first.”
“You don’t trust me?”
She pouted. “That’s not fair.”
The nobleman chuckled. “I can test it first, Essie. No trouble. Though maybe I should have had Abe install it…”
Her smile turned flirty. “From first hand experience, your screwing abilities are top notch.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if these innuendo puns are you trying to lead us somewhere else.”
She giggled, and turned to the side to avoid his playful little smirk. Stare too long, and she’d be entranced into more mischief and sniggering.
Amon latched the first end, and gave it a few tugs to check the tension and strength of the cord. He seemed satisfied after a few tries, and came over to accept her end on the other side, attaching it to the other clasp. It was just shy of two feet off the ground, and had just enough dip and slack to be able to climb into without it immediately rolled. She hoped, anyway.
After double checking both sides, he met her eyes. “Moment of truth.”
She hovered near the edge, hands clasped and wringing in front of herself.
He heaved one leg in. Then, balancing, he threw himself into the hammock. It rolled; it jostled, and he nearly tipped out the other side before alarmingly throwing his weight around to balance it out, rolling into the center of the ropes.
Triumphant, the Illiad heir smirked at her. His hand extended; an open appeal.
“Join me?”
She hesitated, staring at the sunken hammock. Was the swing going to be able to harbor both their weights? Or was the sling going to fall? What was the worst case scenario here? She ends up on her butt, she muses. Perhaps it’ll be uncomfortable, and she’ll end up sore with some rope burns, marks, and chaffs. Her foot could get stuck between the knotted holes, or shoves an appendage in his groin during the struggle to get in.
None were detrimental.
Sighing, knowing she wasn’t going to reject his invite, she stepped closer. Her hand slipped in his.
“What do I do now?”
“Roll in- I’ll catch you.”
She knows there is doubt in her eyes now. But his are pleading, and ardent.
Essätha tentatively rests a knee against the edge; baring no weight to chance tipping or rolling her husband off. Then, in a single big step, she tosses herself into the hammock.
Amon grunts as their bodies connect; a winded exhale escaping him. He cradles her against her chest as the taunt sling sways and bounces a few times, before settling. Her squinted eyes open all the way. Well, it hadn’t snapped or thrown them off yet.
“Just in time, too,” he remarked warmly. His fingers tilt her chin, bringing her attention vertical. “Look.”
Her breath escapes her slowly, watching the setting sun, and the strands of stars begin to take over the sky. The foggy outline of a distant asteroid belt began to take its shape as twilight began to approach.
The view was enchanting atop the hillside, away from the treetops that obscured most of it.
With a softly murmured exhale of appreciation, Essie twined her fingers through his hand, and rested her head against his chest. Much of her was stretched out in length against him like a satisfied cat; burrowed into his side.
“Better than sitting in the itchy grass?”
“I was sitting in the grass a while ago, and it wasn’t so bad,” she defended. “But this is nice too. Very romantic.”
He grunted, soothing a free hand down her back. “Could use some pillows.”
“And a blanket.”
The nobleman chuckled, and the hammock rocked side to side as they shuffled and rearranged upon it. Silence enveloped them once more, and they watched the colors bleed in and out on the canvas skyline in content silence, only the rising of their breathing and the last chirps of birds playing as the crickets came out to strike up their band.
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Inktober- 18. Misfit
More poetry than prose? Idk it’s more filler thoughts than anything but it’s moving and I like it even if it’s a weird style.
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She is different. The world has always reminded her of this. People treated her differently for it all her life. They were resentful; blaming, distrusting. Snakes weren’t looked upon for their pest-control population, but for their appearance that was associated with devils. Creatures of poison and danger.
“What’s it like, being a Yuan-ti? Are you cold-blooded? What’s up with your bones? Can you unhinge your jaw? What about”
She’d heard these questions; and others, dozens and hundreds of times. She is an oddity; a freak, a misfit. She’s learning to accept it. She’s not obligated to answer them; though she had few answers herself.
“You are Essätha Meduza, and that is all that matters.”
Yes. She is herself. Not her race, or her history, or magical influence predicted or influenced who she was. She believes him. Social structures and whispered jests be damned, she is worth so much more than their hate.
She is worthy of respect and love. She is soft, and gentle, and bubbly, and nothing can take that away from her. This feeling of confident. It feels refreshing. He seems to be just as proud of her, too. It’s in the way he beams at her; chest out, lopsided grin, twinkling eyes. It boosts her faith. She likes this look on him, too. The broken pieces of shell around the man he let out. He is not so much outcast as he once believed; worth more than the misfortunes he tripped over in his past. He is hope, strength, trust, loyalty. He is the spitting image of joy when you look up the definition.
She tells him he is her guiding star to turn to when times are rough. Reliable, steadfast, bright and comforting. He leads her home. He is safety. He is hers.
She can tell he enjoys this notion, being hers. He is all aching want, tender fingers feathering against her hands. Smother her palms. Trace up her arms. Oh how she jumps; all goosebumps and yearning. He is a foreign world she’s immersed in. Fascinated. He’s beautiful. The construction he makes with such careful hands; such brutal hands she has seen break others with such violent bruising hate, so very very gentle with her. Hold her heart steady. Hold her flighty eyes steady. She is steadily rooted with him, yet constantly in motion.
There is a crowd but she only feels his heat. Only hears his words, in her ears. Something in her; past the rapid escalation of her heartbeat, or her breathless lungs, or the weightless emptiness seizing her chest cavity, is reaching for that unspoken word. She wants to curl it around her tongue but she doesn’t know the word. She prays he knows it. She wants to hear him say it; wants to taste it on his lips. Oh the very idea makes her head spin, her knees knock, her face flush.
She is different. She’s okay that he’s different, too. Maybe he’d be alright if they blend their differences together. They could paint a new future with their own colors, and see where it leads.
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Inktober- 17. Ornament
I’m unoriginal and I just don’t care
-
The Winter Solstice would soon be upon them, and with it, an annual celebration. Most people took the opportunity to spend time with family and went to intimate, small parties. There was gift giving, and devious mistletoe placement, and garland strung over fireplaces. Homes smelled like baked goods, and decorations softened the atmosphere of an otherwise dreary, cold season.
Essätha never got to enjoy such festivities, but they were indeed a heartwarming way to spend an otherwise dreadfully cold day. She particularly enjoyed the sweet treats, and the hours she could convince her nobleman to cozy up by the fire. It was becoming a welcoming nightly tradition.
An older custom; one rarely used these days, was to uproot a pine tree and plant it indoors for the winter season. It was a sign of good fortune if the tree survived under the temporary care, before it would be returned outdoors in the spring. It was also used for planting gifts beneath for those who lived in the same household; sometimes even anonymously, and was not uncommon for the tree to be adorned with trinkets.
Draping the tree in shimmering tinsel and adding embellishments was Essie’s favorite part. Some were simple, some were elaborate; some were bought others made by friends, by herself, by the staff. It was a symbol of unity, and every so often she would loop some wire and make a new piece to add on to the small tree and its few but growing décor scheme.
Placing another on the tree; this one a wood plaque she had crudely carved an ourobros into, she turned towards the smell of chocolate wafting her way. An endearing smile greeted her, along with a steamy mug.
“Spiced hot chocolate?”
She eyed the drink suspiciously. “Spiced with what, m’lord?”
“Chile pepper. It’s supposed to add depth. Why? You thought I was bringing you a different sort of spiced?”
“There are spiced rums…”
He snorted with disbelief as she took the beverage, cradling it in both hands to warm them. The nobleman’s eyes ventured to the little tree; only about as tall as she was. He placed an arm around her waist as they each sipped from their drinks quietly.
“It looks nice.”
“You can say it, it’s barren.”
“Mmm. Maybe I can fix that.”
She raised her eyebrows, watching the usual whimsy of a grin lighten up her husband’s features and dance in his gaze. He took a step aside, his cloak swishing near the floor as he sat down his drink to produce a small box from the satchel hanging loose at his other side. Amon offered it out to her; a small box wrapped around a shiny parchment covered square.
Her eyes narrowed as she reached for it, allowing him to take her mug. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Curious to the eagerness in his tone, she untied the ribbon and lifted the top. Essätha fished out the small sphere inside to turn it over.
“It’s an ornament.” She paused, scanning the transparent surface. “There’s a message inside?”
Amon nodded eagerly. “Squeeze the top to ease the tension on the springs, and jostle it out.”
She did so, passing him an eyeful and a suppressed smile. He was in a full-blown grin now; waiting with little refrain from squirming.
Shaking out the message-in-the-ornament, Essie read the small note in an excellent penmanship font: ‘Essätha, love of my life, there is no gift greater more rewarding and fulfilling than having you in my life. You are my wish, today, tomorrow, and always.’ Below the message, the date of their marriage earlier that year, and the current date, marked with a small heart on either side
“Oh… Amon…”
He moved closer; his cologne of cardamom, leather, and saffron mixing with the burning warmth of wood. “Do you like it?”
“Yes,” she breathed, leaning into his side. She stood up taller to give him a peck on the cheek. “I love it. I can’t believe it’s almost been a year…”
“Only 283 days, darling, but whose counting?”
She snickered at his fond smile resting her head against his chest, so he could wrap his arms around her while she tucked the note securely back in the ornament. It was the best Winter Solstice day she’d ever had. She blinked rapidly, her eyes misty with emotion. She was ecstatic for day 284, and every day that lay beyond that.
He made every day a day worth living and appreciating. What could be more worthwhile than that?
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Inktober- 16. Wild
give me more amon comforting essatha!!! love them comfort snuggles hnnggg
-
“Has anyone ever looked you in the eye, and told that you are a monster?”
Only in the mirror, Amon thought grimly. Only in my dreams. Only in my head, and in what I believe everyone to be thinking every second they’re looking at me.
He reached for her hand. Essätha retracted it swiftly. Gods, it felt like a punch right to the gut.
“Essie.” His voice was pleading. He wished she could trust him as much as he trusted her. She still threw up the wall when she got scared, and he was left standing there with arms wide open. A silent offer each time; you can run to me, you’ll be safe here.
She didn’t meet his eyes. He hated when she ached. Her sorrow tore at him; burned like ice. What could he do to fix this wrong? What could he do to make it better, and bring a smile back to her face?
“You don’t have to pretend to like me-”
“I’m not pretending anything, Essätha. You’re not a monster.”
“I’m not human.”
“Neither is anyone else here.”
Her eyes glanced towards him, then away. They were not the usual fiery molten golden-brown, but tired.
“I’m a wild animal, m’lord,” she corrected him.
He choked in the back of his throat with disbelief. He reached for her hands once more, but she pulled back. Not fast enough; he grasped her fingers, and held them gently. Her body jumped anxiously beneath his jump, and she began sliding her digits from his oh-so careful grasp like sand spilling between his fingers. But he had had eyes, and her attention.
“You are a woman, with a natural gift,” Amon responded. “Druids are capable of wild-shifting. Some magicians learn the craft of polymorphing. There are were-creatures that inhabit this planet. You being a Yuan-Ti just makes it inherit to you. It is merely an ability. Your heritage does not define you; you do.”
“Even if you ignore thousands of years of evolution in my blood that carries darkness, that’s only denying a fraction of the problem. What about what I’ve done? What about the- the lies, the deception, the death, the-”
“If my history does not matter to who I am now, why does yours?”
“Because you were a young man!”
“And you were a young lady! We’re not the same foundation Essie, but if you believe the words you say to me, then they hold the same meaning for you.” He squeezed her hands. “If I am worthy of forgiveness, then so are you. Forgive yourself. Your past is in the past. You’re not the same person today as you were ten years ago, or give years ago, or even yesterday.”
“You’re battling the worst the world has to offer to uphold peace. You’re no monster. You’re no animal. You’re a wildly passionate, merciful, gentlewoman. There’s is nothing wrong with you being who you are. You are beautiful, and perfect, and amazing just the way you are.”
Her stature deflated. She looked to the floor with heavy eyes and a trembling lip.
“… I’m sorry.”
Amon slid across the sofa, closer towards her. He shushed her gently as she hiccuped, offering a place by his side. She accepted the invitation, curling up against his ribs. The nobleman wrapped both arms around her, and rested his chin upon her head as she hid her face into his chest.
“It’s okay,” he ushered softly, rubbing her back. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll be here for you, always.”
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