#bartimaus trilogy

English breakfast

Lying in wait in Prague

Even though I think the second book is the weakest in the Trilogy (there are lots of moments that could be either cut or rewritten), I still really enjoy Bart and Nat's plotline and especially the Prague arc. This is the moment when they were waiting for Harlequin to show up and Bart was feeling paranoid.

Hot chocolate

Everybody lives, evvvvvrybody. Faquarl is making chocolate for every one, like the dad he is. He kept the body of Mr. Hopkins, and voila! Life is good. We can at least pretend right?

Some Ptolemy (and bird! Bart) designs. I think the urge to reread The Bartimaeus Trilogy is getting onto me...

I was too lazy to do research so I have no idea if this lapwing is accurate or not

It's funny my Amulet of Samarkand animatic started getting so much recognition NOW of all times, because I JUST finished rereading the first book.

THANK YOU A LOT AND HERE'S A DOODLE FOR YOU NICE STRANGER

I really plan to draw more Bartimaeus art soon, these books are my personal treasure

Also PLEASE follow me on YouTube where I MIGHT be posting more animation related stuff:3

It's platonic OTP time! Sometimes I feel like I would give literally anything for them to be happy...

Yesterday night (yeah, again) I was trying to make quick sketches with quick painting. And I think this one looks alright. I just love them so much I had to draw more of them (on that moment you realize who my favorites are). And sorry there's only a half of a lion. THIS WAS MY FIRST TIME DRAWING AN ACTUAL LION OKAY?

I don't know what the second picture is doing here, but I'm sure Rekhyt would criticize Ptolemy's works in all the dumb ways just because he's bored and wants his friend to smile. (*too)

A little illustrated piece I drew for the little story I wrote. (I made two versions because why not).

I just thought that by the time Ptolemy considered Bartimaeus his friend, Bart himself would still keep a distance between them. I came up with a couple of scenes on this topic (they are in Russian, so I'll try to translate them).

* * *

“The guise of a lion suits you very much, Rekhyt,” Ptolemy said, looking up at me over his scrolls for the first time in the last hour. He felt that his research was nearing the end, and so recently he worked twice as hard. Sometimes he sat at his table until dawn, after a whole day he constantly yawned and rubbed his eyes, listening to the requests of the commoners. “You should wear this form more often. ”

I straightened my shoulders, regally folding my mighty paws on top of each other, thus demonstrating that I agree with him. And in the end, I have always been pleased to hear compliments addressed to my modest person. It raises my self-esteem a lot, you know (although not that I had a problem with that).

"The form, of course, is noble, I do not argue,” I nodded, “ but with this mane not a damn thing is visible. And it itches constantly. ” I shook my head to prove my own words, and several curls covering my eyes fell on my majestic face.

Ptolemy laughed, put his notes aside, and held out his hand to me. I jerked as if I was afraid of getting burned and looked at him with displeasure and bewilderment at the same time.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I wanted to scratch you,” Ptolemy shrugged his shoulders, still taking his hand back.

“I could let you do it if you ordered me. ” I once again proudly waved my head to shake the interfering strands from my eyes and see him better. It seemed to me that my words would not sound impressive enough if at the same time my mane was disheveled like a scarecrow. “And so I ask you to do without any touching. We djinnies on't really like it.”

Ptolemy snorted and returned to his notes.

* * *

After traveling to the Other Place, Ptolemy could not wake up for a long time. He stayed there for several hours, Earth time, and this was reflected on his physical body. He lay for almost an hour in his pentacle, still clutching the iron ankh in his limp hands, unable to get up. I didn't know what exactly would happen to him when his spirit left his body, but I suspected that it was not good. And here's the proof. However, Ptolemy probably understood this himself, and took the risk deliberately. And something told me that he did not regret anything.

When he did manage to somehow control his limbs, I helped him to get on his feet and brought him to the chair next to his table. Ptolemy sank heavily into it, placing his hands on the armrests and closing his eyes. His breathing was heavy and ragged, but gradually it evened out. I sat down in front of him and looked at my master. His hair was almost completely gray, with only a few dull strands left of his dark, almost black curls. There were deep wrinkles around the eyes, which, as I was sure, will not smooth out over time. The dark skin would have turned gray and looked as if it had just been removed from the dead. His hands are even thinner and more bony than they were before. The legs looked like two dry canes: it seemed that if he stepped on them, they would break immediately. And yet there was a faint but happiest smile on his haggard face that I have ever seen.

“Did I do it, Rekhyt?” his first words for all the time that he is again on Earth. I saw that even moving his lips was difficult for him.

“You did,” I nodded. “And thereby earned my trust.” I bowed to him without a drop of irony. Ptolemy chuckled wearily. “And also this.” I came closer and bowed my lion's head before him.

Ptolemy froze in indecision and stared at me with a mute question in his brown eyes, which, in spite of everything, shone as brightly as ever.

“Come on. It's alright,” I reassured him. “You’ve always wanted to do this. Go ahead.”

With great effort, Ptolemy raised his right hand and reached out to me. Seeing how hard even this simple action is given to him, I moved forward and myself put my mane under his palm. His strokes were timid and hesitant, it seemed as if he was still afraid to cause me inconvenience. Perhaps so, but I was more inclined to believe that it was just hard for him now, and he barely had enough strength for such simple manipulations. Finally, he gently scratched me behind my ear (I understood why the pets liked it so much), and then again laid his hand on the arm of the chair. He looked even more tired than before, but also happier, it should be noted.

“Thank you, Rekhyt,” he whispered, and I really heard his sincere gratitude in his voice.

* * *