LOTS OF ART of people that have drawn Isendil. Credit for all these goes to DustyBunnies and Haychen.

  A birthday gift for my good buddy!

"Your goal is to be more brave. Being brave does not mean throwing yourself into combat, or readily giving up your life. You need to be brave emotionally and logically. You can be brave enough to trust in others, brave enough to allow yourself to open back up to friends and family." Isendil was anxious most days since the rescue. He wanted his friends and loved ones to be able to give him a reassuring touch on the shoulder, a hug, or for Santii to fuss over his fronds like she always did. But every time he was touched, he couldn't help but think of Apoleia's slimy, blood-covered hands all over him; or his greasy, sick-feeling empathy trying to latch onto his own. But Santii was right. The entire reason he didn't call out to Llachlan, Vilathara, and Searil when he was grabbed by Apoleia was because he was scared. Not scared for himself...but scared for them. He didn't want the three of them to suffer the same fate he did. Isendil sat up in his cot in the infirmary. Mnostovo was constantly moving back and forth from the back room and the worktable in the center of the infirmary; likely researching everything he can on how to get Vervis back. Santii had moved from her work cot to come sit by Isendil as she worked, her empathy constantly reaching out to his in gentle affirmation. He was anxious. Scared that it would all happen again. And she knew it. He leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling silently as the two worked. His head tilted side to side as he had his own cathartic inner monologue. I need to believe in them more. They finished my greatest and most difficult task without losin' a single person...and they did it without my help. I have to have faith in 'em like I did then. His mind went back to that moment in the dungeon. His lungs burned, the incisions itched and stung, and he hadn't slept in days. His empathy was in complete and utter agony, afraid that he wouldn't be able to save the ones he loved from Apoleia and his machinations...until he was hit by a moment of absolute clarity. His family wouldn't give up. They weren't stupid. They would get him out of here, and they would stop Apoleia - with or without him. "I still remember completing my Hunt. The pain and anguish beforehand, only to find relief as if a great weight has been lifted from you." Santii was right. Isendil glanced over to her from his cot, watching her work diligently. Flipping through papers, signing various forms. After a few moments she glanced up at him briefly, giving that sweet and motherly smile that had become all-too-known throughout the Source. Isendil smiled in turn at the woman he considered his mother. She looked back to her work, and he looked back to the ceiling. Time to be more brave.

Drip. Isendil's arms were suspended over his head as he hung from shackles chained to the stone wall. His head hung low, and his untied fronds blocked most of his already blurred vision. His head lolled from side to side in exhausted defiance, still fighting to get free, albeit weakly. Drip. Apoleia hadn't beat him, tortured him, or mangled him like most would. Isendil was actually fairly clean and well-kept...save for four surgically precise cuts along his chest. They were perfectly symmetrical; one running from just under his armpit to his collarbone, and a twin to match on the left side. Two more were lower, just between his ribs. Apoleia came every day to ensure that these wounds remained open. Drip. Sap had been oozing from him for days. Apoleia had not only kept the wounds open, but he had been collecting the sap. Isendil's chains rattled as his weight shifted lazily. His mind had been blank for the most part, save for constantly thinking about everyone back home, and the specifics of his Hunt. A rush of lucidity came over him, as he began to relive the dream of when he was first called... Drip. He was alone in a clearing standing against a massive being of shadow. It loomed over him ominously, beginning to spawn smaller shadow beasts around the clearing. One at a time, Isendil fought them...and for each one he defeated, a being of light arose and joined him in the fight until only the behemoth was left. As he faced it, it began to grow and expand, and Isendil positioned himself between it and his new allies...and as it reached him-- Normally he woke up by now. The dream had played in his head while he slept over and over, why was it only now finishing? The beings of light swarmed around the behemoth, pushing Isendil back just before the shadows could swallow him. With a roaring groan of defiance and disbelief, the shadow was gone. Isendil fell to his knees and hung his head...before his vision revealed him back in the dungeon. Drip. He managed a smile. Even in these cold, dark, underground halls, he suddenly felt warm. Relieved. "So Apoleia wasn't the point. Relying on everyone was...leanin' on 'em." He lifted his head and closed his eyes with that smile as if absorbing warm sunlight for the first time in months. There was no sun. Merely blackness, and the sound of-- Drip. Figures came into his sight. Santii, Trisbaine, Llachlan, Seicemar, Vilathara, Aoibheann. Phantoms that weren't actually there. Oaken, Keiranon, Skoryy, Searil, Astairre, Ruiel. They all turned to face him. Mnostovo, Phi, Julyan, Ruinali, Vailynt, Aindheal. And they smiled lovingly. Isendil lidded his eyes, tears welling up. "Thank you all. For lovin' me." His body went limp, and he let go of his chains; dangling there lifelessly. The last thing he saw was their smiles before his world went black. His Hunt was over. Isendil stopped fighting. Drip.

Santii training Isendil in Mount Maelstrom, the morning before he got shot.

`When Issy gets protective and interrogative. EDIT: I have no idea why the first screenshot got rid of all of Simuel's emotes. Sad day. :(

     One day closer until he returns to her.

Genderbent Issy, and noseless face Issy.