#yots

It's the Year of the Snake and you find yourself in front of a vending machine occupied by a snake enjoying their summer break. What do you do?🐍

happy Chinese new year and year of the snake!! 🐍 I drew this as part of @bycmykae ‘s ‘Year of the Snake’ wallpaper calendar project. The wallpapers are all free to download at cmykae.itch.io/yots

Source: Yotsuba&! | よつばと

A few days later…

Dawn breaches the horizon, pale and tentative against the lingering northern lights. That filtered, gentle light leeches through thin tent walls, offering a moment of solace. 

Selowyn’s eyes open with the growing glow. She inhales deeply, inviting calm. Her efforts are well intentioned, her discipline intact, but...

Something is different.

Selowyn stirs, partially sitting up to brush the thin layer of frost off the blankets. Whispers of anxiety nip at the edges of her consciousness, gaining strength with each inbreath of awareness. Gritting her teeth, she sighs, tempted to open that mental vault. To acknowledge the loss and begin to formulate some sort of attempt to contact the taken....

“Milady?” a voice calls out from beyond the tent walls, interrupting her thoughts.

“Yes?” she croaks. She clears her throat. “What is it?” she calls out, more clearly this time.

“Lady Sunhawk, there is a visitor here to see you.”

Quizzical brows knit. “Alright, one moment please.”

Donning her heavy robes and cloak, the cleric steps out into the chilled landscape. A willowy figure in similar attire stands waiting, her form ensconced in shadows, backlit by the shafts of the rising sun. Selowyn’s hand flies to her forehead, shading her eyes from the blinding light in an attempt to see... 

Her eyes widened in disbelief. It was none other than Bishop-Confessor Phadrene Morningdove, the Convocate of Faith of Silvermoon.

“My lady? Confessor Morningdove?? Is it really you…?” The tone is tentative, almost pleading.

The figure steps forward and the light illuminates her fully, cleanly. She is stunning and placid, wrapped in robes of whitest snow, champagne gold and daybreak turquoise. As always, she seems out of place on this plane of existence, let alone the bleak Borean Tundra. “Confessor Sunhawk. A pleasure to see you again.” Her smile and tone are welcoming and pure, her golden eyes warm and searching. 

Tears sting the junior confessor’s eyes as she cannot help but spring forward. Eschewing protocol, she wraps her mentor in a huge bear hug, sobs wracking her chest. “Phadrene, it has been so long...we need you. I need you!” She leans back, blinking as she drinks in the senior confessor’s blessed countenance. “How long are you here for? WHY are you HERE??? It is not safe...”