#rhupa

I’m not dead! I’ve been working on a variety of covers to sell as prints at an upcoming comic convention in my city, where I’m tabling (among other NDA work that is, well, under NDA). Will be providing information on that closer to the date.

I did a little bit here, mostly as a lead-in, but I will definitely be doing a bit more with her <3 Thank you for letting me!

Everyone knows that I’m particularly a secretive man, I wear my emotions on my sleeve at times and often overshare my complications. Drelethyn, on the other hand, holds it all in behind several layers of denial and misdirection. I think the mer has masterfully hidden his own secrets from himself. He’s gotten a lot softer with those graying hairs, as if all those thoughts and acceptances are slowly surfacing. I think he feels as if he’s gotten weak, but it’s just another battle without swords and fire. ☼ PersonalityHe’s quite a bit older than me, quite a bit. However, I don’t think Drelethyn saw the value in growing out of one’s innocuous foolishness. He’s not an idiot by any means but he appreciates life and doesn’t regard himself to be above simple pleasures. He’s a highly relatable friend as well, never holding his knowledge over anyone’s head and always keeping other’s concerns in mind even if he believes himself to be too aloof at times. 

campfire embers sparking into the clear night sky. new moons and dawn on the horizon. the smell of gunpowder and the sound of explosions under ten feet of desert sand. bitter drinks that warm your throat on the way down. old leather journals filled with walls of scribbled text that only the owner can read, and anatomical drawings with the sketches still underneath the quill ink marks. a few dirty fingerprints smudge some words in a language that is faraway and meticulous. her scent buried deep into the folds of his clothes. 

Drelethyn, probably. She doesn’t have many people she considers friends. As for enemy, it depends on the time period.

{{ Homegirl loves jewelry, even if she doesn’t wear as much of it as she might like (when she’s travelling, she’s over-wary of potential robbers, and when she’s at home and left to her own devices, she’s cautious of how it might look if a woman who presents herself as an honest, humble shopkeeper were to be decked out in jewels). She’s partial to gold, loves the sound of metal clinking together (she has a habit of jangling her earrings together in idle moments), but she tends to keep her ensemble at a minimum, aside from the three hoops in each ear that she rarely takes off. A couple of rings, maybe, usually bearing some sort of enchantment, and a necklace or two. Nothing over the top or extravagant. }} 

↕ - a memory that may or may not have happenedHe was discontent, understandably so. The steel braces creaked under the force of unhinged ire as a thin blanket of fur formed over ashen skin. Calm and collected, I polished the glass casing of a syringe that held my safety within. A grind and a snap sent bolts rocketing towards the ceiling as the mer transformed, snarling with gruesome intent. I had little time to react as the needle sunk into his skin upon one graceless advance. Massive clawed hands wrapped around my neck in a hesitation to savor the moment of killing me. To him blood ran from where the claws contacted, and my life ended with a snap.To me, however, the wolf was sedated and fading back to his dunmer form as the illusion played through his mind. I hoped that it would have convinced him of my death, but the wiser part of me knew that he would learn otherwise.  ✈ - an eye-opening memoryHe did find me, sending a construct to dig under the tower and take revenge for the knowledge I acquired. I spoke of this before, but at several points in my life my mortality was threatened to the point of having Hermaeus Mora take control. At this time, my summoned beings were eviscerated and the machine set it sights upon me with slicing blades. A pair of ruby eyes gleamed as the blades advanced, the last memory I had before it all went black. Again, my consciousness was crumpled into a pocket of Apocrypha, every ounce of magicka was drained to uphold the connection as it expended completely, digging into the reserves of my own soul energy afterward.In that abyss, however, I felt the entirety of my being converge into non-linear time. I was open to answers that were not available to my know in mortality--swirling, omnipotent Knowledge. I called out what came to mind, to question the part of my soul that resisted with undeniable authority.  I am reborn from Fate itself.With that, sorrow emanated from the Golden Eye. A mortal wound was inflicted as ink spilled into the sea. 

Aww, gosh, thank you so much!!  I’m so glad to hear you’re enjoying it.  <3