#apprentice illain

I didn’t realize I only came up with Khayalan’s sprite design in January… it feels like I’ve been in love with him forever xD Thank you for always being with me - Sketchy, Agent, Lazy, for inspiring me, for encouraging me, for … everything. For… being my friend. For making life bearable, and for quality-of-life improvement tips, and self-care and puns. There’s obviously more but well. You know what I mean. xD Looking back on the art and remembering the process behind each of it… and the empty months and months… and you guys were with me, through it all. All the way through every step of 2020. Thank you for making every tomorrow a new day to look forward to.

The signs were so subtle at first, it was hard to notice. As time went on, they noted there was a certain look Ayda had about her, especially when watching the children play. It was almost…wistful? There were times when she started mid-conversation as if she had something to say, but cutting herself off with an apologetic smile. Illain and Asra shared concerned looks privately, but as always, it was hard to get anything out of her that she was not ready to talk about. The children were blissfully unaware though, not really noticing that mama sometimes hugged them a few moments longer than necessary, or spent more time fussing over them than usual. The air was usually cool that night, a small draft breezing in through the children’s bedroom window. Thoughtfully, the young woman shut half of the window, not wanting the sleeping children to catch a cold. Ayda lingered about in their room, busying herself putting away their toys and gathering discarded clothes from the floor. Sitting on the bed at last, she hovers over the sleeping figures. Gently, the mother smoothed back Khayalan’s stubborn curls, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his little ear. She narrowly dodges a kick to the face from Lucky’s wriggling figure, a soft chuckle escapes her as he almost managed to swat at his brother’s elbow in the same move. Still, she sets down the blankets and tucks them in lovingly, although she knows fully well that the unfortunate blankets would probably be kicked off long before morning comes. Lost in her own thoughts, Ayda stares unmovingly into space. There was a patter of footsteps, and a slightly worried figure appeared at the doorway, eyebrows creased in concern. It has been a little over an hour since Ayda went to tuck the children into bed. Illain finds her still seated on the children’s bed, shoulders slightly hunched over. The faraway look on her face brings a pang to his heart. He takes light steps towards her, warm hands resting on her shoulders. She starts slightly from her reverie, looking up to meet his smile. Smiling in return, she leans back against him and relaxes into his touch. Her beloved drops a chaste kiss on her forehead. “A penny for your thoughts?” he murmurs, in a hushed voice. Smoothly, Illain starts massaging her shoulders as she tenses up at the question. She bites her lip, frowning slightly – yet relents at last. It didn’t really do her good to wallow for so long, she already learnt as much. Taking a deep breath, she plunged right into the heart of matter that plagued her. “What do you think about having children, Illain?” There was a slight pause as he considers the question, kneading carefully to work out the knots in her shoulders. “Khayal and Lucky might be a real handful at times, but thinking about the joys they bring us… I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His honest response brings a wry smile to Ayda’s face, one that he couldn’t see as her back was towards him. “I mean yours thoughts on having another child, dear,” she says softly, almost too softly for him to hear. There was a pregnant pause, almost as if the air itself was stilled – only the rhythmic sounds of the children’s breathing could be heard. As the hands that were rubbing her shoulders stilled in shock, worry washed over her like a bucket of cold water. Her breath hitches at the painful silence, jumbled thoughts running hundred miles an hour. “…it’s fine. Just an errant thought, it’s nothing –” murmuring apologetically, she moves abruptly from the bed, trying to slip past the still-shocked Illain. Barely making it past the doorway, it only takes him a few seconds to come to and catch her in a tight embrace. “Ayda. Please… Ayda. Please calm down,” he repeats softly, hugging the trembling figure dearly to his chest, pressing soft kisses into her hair until her jerky breathing eventually calmed and returned to normal. “Of course – of course another child would be welcome to our family,” Illain murmurs, turning her around to face him, wiping away the stray tears from the corner of her eyes. “Have you talked to Asra about this?” To his surprise, a faint blush tinged her damp cheeks. She slowly rested a hand over her heart, and placed the other over his, looking at him earnestly. “I wanted to ask you.” The freckled darling blinked, still uncomprehending. “Ours. Our baby,” she tries saying it slower, dragging the words to emphasize them. Ah. She will carve this sight into her fondest memories. The way Illain’s face lighted up when he finally understood, or how his face flushed scarlet after he processed it. He didn’t put his reply into words. The shared kiss was so sweet even if it tasted salty with tears, and he hugged her so hard that she could hardly breathe. Ayda slips her hand into his as they wordlessly made their way back to their waiting husband, their entwined fingers giving her reassurance. The fluffy-haired magician was sprawled out lazily on the bed in a nest of blankets, perking up at hearing them entering the room. He sits up after seeing their serious faces, while Faust and Nyala lazily slide off him and burrow themselves deeper underneath the blankets. He opens his arms invitingly, and his lovers melt into his warm embrace. Ayda snuggles into the crook of Asra’s shoulder, Illain settles himself comfortably in Asra’s lap while Aster scuttles onto his palm. Much of her worry set at ease, Ayda’s eyelids begin to droop. Amused, Asra lands a kiss on her cheek, gently prompting her. “I’m listening.” They talked on for hours and hours into the night, long after the candles exhausted themselves. Whatever the outcome would be – she was alright with it. She felt beloved, and at peace with herself.