#verkoh

wear lots of pockets to sneak snacks home. make it really worth it.

Client: Ah yes, that elaborately decorative coat with is perfect.  Very fashionable. You’ll fit right in with the other guests.

“Not uncomfortable… but I hardly think such garments suit me…” 

commission work;

Rhysa Verkoh, finished digital watercolor painting.

Once you get past all the initial aversion and are one of the few people Tiergan would seek out for that kind of intimacy - it VERY much depends who you are.

With softer, gentler, sweeter lovers, it’s with light, exploratory touches, a tender caress, a low, soft-spoken voice, and lowered eyes. His head bowed, leaning in, everything a slow, sensual request - like asking permission from a god or goddess, ready to withdraw at the slightest sign of displeasure.

With someone like Zaius, Tiergan likely just shows up, slams the other man into a wall and kisses him with all the fierce, vicious hunger he likely was feeling at the time.  The two of them have outlined the boundaries and agreements between each other and have a special word for ‘stop everything now’.  They’ve also known each other for so long now that Zaius is very much aware of exactly what Tiergan wants when he arrives at the other’s doorstep - wild, hungry, and demanding.

Fingers feather across cool stone with interest, though steps make no sound as she circles the altar, hair spilling over her shoulder as the figure leaned in, eyes bright and curious upon a relic left for him. A peculiar relic, a... curiosity. The goddess of mysteries poked and prodded, leaving a trail of snow-white feathers upon the ground in her wake—Increasingly reckless in the face of the other god's inevitable notice. (2/2)

The god’s notice came swiftly and silently, a ripple of icy wind that only lightly stirred the downy feathers she left behind. This visitor, she observed no rules. She left no offering. She made no bargain. She was divine; divine and unafraid. But how then could she simultaneously be so childish? Glittering eyes, wide with fascination, noticed little else but the trinkets left behind by some pilgrim; blissfully unaware of the shadow that loomed closer, bit by bit swallowing up the shrine.

Her hands were soft, harmless, but unwelcome nonetheless. A serpent greeted her outstretched hand when it ventured forward again, golden teeth flashing a needle-sharp warning as it coiled defensively about the relic. This god did not approve of touching what was his. And then, there she stood, a pearl surrounded by a web of black silk, wreathed by a nest of vipers that had seemed to materialize from the cracks between the stone, falling to earth like decaying vines.

“You are bold.” The voice came quietly from somewhere behind the goddess. Or maybe it came from the gilded mouths of the snakes, what for the way it echoed, sounding like several voices all at once, and all of them horribly familiar.

“Or perhaps simply reckless... to enter the domain of another. Tell me... what business does a god of wonder have in a place of despair?”