#mamanewt

Ivy Children AU doodles from this week!

Minor TW for pencilled blood

Ignore the weird head shaped I'm trying something new with my artstyle T-T minho my bb I'm so sorry you don't deserve what I did to you

please enjoy and feel free to ask questions oml I'm not okay about these guys

“Admittedly, I’ve never been a terribly patient woman, and it’s a shortcoming that’s plagued me since childhood. Usually alongside many reminders that I’ll never find my place in the world if I do not pause to look around me—not that I paid them much mind.”

“In my eyes, the entire star could either keep my pace, or be left behind. Those unable to keep up weren’t worth the company. I nearly forget what it is to be patient until I’m forced into it; by way of ailments or occasional wounds.”

“Not to say that I would call myself a changed woman, but… I’m learning.”

“I’m more aware, now, with someone walking beside me. I measure my steps as though they were hers, and blaze trails in the hope that they will be less perilous if I should take the lead.”

“There is more to the world than I had ever stopped to take in before. Things that prove sight is sometimes a mere… distraction. Tastes that are as touch and sounds that leave their mark upon your skin.”

“No!”

Sif laughs aloud; as if the question was a joke.

“An’ give th’ man more t’ hang o’er m’ head? Gods, no. ‘Sides, we settled on keepin’ our troubles out o’ th’ other’s ‘ands ‘much as possible long ago. Ain’t been a flawless plan, bu’, I ain’t apologizin’ fer crimes I weren’t th’ one committin’.”

“…’Course tha’s not t’ say I ain’t committed any. An’ it don’t mean I don’t still feel sorrow fer ‘im more often than I’d like. Twelve know I do.”

• Starting Dungeon: “Stay close. I don’t trust the look of this place.”• Assisting: “Take my hand!”• Being Assisted: “Enough fussing, I’m hardly scratched!”• Idle Dialogue: “Amesha, is there aught you can sense?””…I suppose I’ll be the only one who can understand your answer.”• Witnessing Amesha KO: “Amesha! Don’t- don’t you dare fall now!”• Reviving Amesha: “Come on, Amesha… the Hawk still has need of her shaded bough, yet.”• Revived by Amesha: “Ever the one to catch me where I falter…”• Finishing Dungeon: “That’s quite enough excitement for a day. Shall we?”

• Starting Dungeon: “I’m yer eyes, Walker. No stabbin’ anythin’ ain’t stabbin’ you, eh?”• Assisting: “On yer righ’— no, left!”• Being Assisted: “M’ partner in crime…”• Idle Dialogue: “Walker, wh— wha’ in Spinner’s name did y’ do t’ yerself already? I ain’t a damn chirurgeon!”“…I’ll patch y’ up later.”• Witnessing Dugald KO: “No… no, no! Dugald, don’t y’ dare!”• Reviving Dugald 1: “Y’ promised me all yer time, damn y’. Y’ ain’t gettin’ out tha’ easy…”• Reviving Dugald 2: “On yer feet, Walker. Tha’s… tha’s an order.”• Revived by Dugald 1: “Will y’ stop wit’ tha’ look? I’ve ‘ad worse…”• Revived by Dugald 2: “I said ‘to th’ end’, didn’t I?”• Finishing Dungeon: “One more misadventure on our books, eh? Ugh, we’re gonna feel this on th’ morrow…”

A barely-conscious Sif lifts her head up off the cobbled stone, peering up at the man sitting some few fulms away with an incredulous look. This? Right now?

“Twelve… Walker, is this ‘cause I cussed y’ out abou’ wantin’ t’ leave th’ damned tavern?”

Momentary inspection of her companion brings a pounding to her head and a burning in her throat, as well as a sobering claw of guilt. Despite the teasing, Sif knew crowds bothered him. She groans, lowering her head back down in hopes that the sudden return of a familiar spinning feeling might be quelled.

Conversations like these required honesty. Tact. Both things she had long since done away with, drowned in cheap ale and stolen whiskey.

“…Sometimes, aye,” she finally mumbles, her words barely intelligible between each other. “Sometimes I wonder why th’ ‘ells I didn’t up an’ run th’ first time y’ got… lost. When y’ couldn’t see me pas’ them ghosts o’ yers.”

The weary blonde lets slip a sigh, shifting herself on the alley floor to hide her face—and the hint of a smile on her lips.

“Then I catch y’ laughin’ at summat I said, r’ y’ go an’ call me yer eyes an’ ears, ‘r y’ tell me y’ carried m’ arse all the way from th’ bloody barstool…”

Her hands rise to her face, massaging sun-weathered temples with another pause to breathe and close her eyes.

“Ah, ‘ells…jus’ forge’ it, aye?”

—