TheNymphia

“Well, Wardens,” Thom starts to raise his voice. “What do we say our esteemed guest from Nevarra honors us with a demonstration of our future comrades’ abilities?”

Some hearty cheers rise up in the yard. Rook’s gonna find all of them and steal all their dry socks. “You don’t need to do that, he doesn’t need to do that.” Rook snarls at Thom until Emmrich puts a hand on her shoulder and kisses her cheek. 

“It’s quite alright, amáta. I could get a morning’s exercise,” and he stands. Davrin looks up and sees a crowd gather around the ring. 

She growls. “I am going to make sure all you fuckers get the clap I swear to the Maker.” 

“Tara, darling. You know I can’t pass up an opportunity to further an education, especially with those of such esteem as the Grey Wardens.” 

“Whoever the fuck just bet against him, fuck you, Warden!” Rook squawks.  

“So does the Mourn Watch also train heavily for combat?” Thom takes up his sword and shield instead from where Rook had left them. The air whooshes as he swings his sword.

“Some more than others. The Watch is all the better for a variety of skills, professions and knowledge.”

“Such as yourself?” 

Emmrich holds his hands in front of him, polite. “I am a scholar first, yes, Senior Warden Rainier. But before I was a student, I was born a mage, monsieur. ”

“Would you honor me with a d..emonstration?” 

2. It says a lot about him, Emmrich thinks to himself, that he finds her frown/ glare so deeply attractive. There was a name to describe a face like hers, one he had heard younger Watchers coin, though he failed to remember it as he watched her from across the great hall. Brows furrowed and mouth thinned as she listened to conversation happening around her, hands clasped neatly in front of her. It had taken him some time to understand there was no hostility in it, that it did not reflect on those around her.

But it was the way her expression shifted when she saw him that really did it for him. Her features softened, eyes brightening when she caught his gaze, the corners of her mouth lifting. It was only for him, only ever him, and it took nothing more than the faintest hint of a blush to appear when he didn't look away (determined as he was to memorise every inch of her) for him to be spurred into action.

Her expression would settle when she was drawn back into conversation as he crossed the room, the shift an instinctual one for her and all he could think about was hurrying her away somewhere private, somewhere he could lure her smile back out (his smile…) once more. And see how far he can make her blush spread.

3. Emmrich was an educator at heart. There were few things that brought him the same level of joy as the knowledge that he had helped yet another soul achieve greatness. Sable was no different - brilliant in her own right, though she was often reluctant to admit it.

That being said there were moments were she sought to improve areas of her education entirely unprompted. His favourite to date had been the night she appeared in their bedroom, the candles already burning low, hands behind her back.

There had been a flicker of something in her gaze, voice soft and low, as she approached that had him leaning forward, book discarded somewhere beside him on the bed. The request a simple one in the greater scheme of things, something he had done before and thoroughly enjoyed - it called to the educator within him, the gentle plea for guidance and instruction, enough that he had found himself reaching for her without thought.

The rope had been beautifully crafted, emerald in colour, and something had coiled tightly, low in his belly, as she told him of the book she had found and the drawings inside of bodies bound in intricate designs. The need to be the one to teach her, to be the one to answer her questions and sate her desires, was overwhelming and had left him adjusting himself with just a flicker of embarrassment before he drew her up onto the bed.

4. Emmrich appreciated all manner of things. Teas made from the finest of leaves and cloths of the most expensive cotton just as much as he did the worn books from the little stall he'd found in the city and the roughly plucked flowers Manfred brought him in the evenings. He was also extremely fond of just how… flexible… his beloved was.

He'd found there was much enjoyment to be had from watching her do her exercises after they'd risen from bed. Limbs loose and skin flushed, he could not look away as she stretched, sweat gathering on the skin not clothed. He knew she was aware of his staring, the act becoming more of a performance the longer she allowed it to go on.

Each downwards bend was met with a low groan, hidden behind the rim of his tea cup. Every moan (he knew them to be exaggerated for his benefit) met with a shuffling of limbs as he did his best to remain in his seat though it always ended the same way.

A wiggle of her hips and he was lured away from their breakfast. The deep exhale that came with the way her spine arched, arms high above her head, and he was across the room, hands slipping beneath what little clothing she wore and pulling her flush to his chest as his mouth settled against the curve of her throat, offering to help her with the rest of her stretches.

5. There were few things that affected Emmrich as much as the sound of his name spilling from her lips did.

The soft mutter when she blinked slowly, sheets rustling as she woke, left him feeling all fluttery and warm, reassured by the knowledge that he was the first thing she sought out as dawn rose.

The way it sounded when she laughed, cheeks flushed red and voice cracking, as she watched him grumble at the lipstick stains she had left atop Manfred's temple, hands desperately trying to scrub the bone clean.

Even the gentle whisper of his name as he lay cradled in her arms, lips moving against his hair, tugged at something inside him though it often took a day for him to shake off the nightmares and remember the way in which she had said it.

But his favourite would always be the way his name bounced off the walls of their home when the door closed behind him. He could have been gone for little more than a few hours, hardly the greatest of expeditions, but it would still ring with a warmth that lured him deeper. To anyone else it would sound as nothing more than a greeting to welcome him home.

But to Emmrich it was everything he had ever hoped for.

Whatever he had been carrying would fall to the floor, mind flooded with images of soft smiles and blue eyes. His coat, in all its finery, would find itself thrown over the back of a chair as he thought of freckled hands preparing his favourite tea set in preparation of his arrival. Gravegold discarded as he moved from room to room, searching for the one who still called out his name, the sound a balm to the heat that built beneath his skin.

It was just a word. A silly little word. But in the sanctuary of their home, it was a sirens call and one he gladly followed as he shed the burdens of his day, utterly breathless and so achingly hard it was almost painful.

"Emmrich."

I know I have touched on this before, I am a photographer. I did(do) it professionally. I own a business and pay taxes. I have awards, recognition, and multiple years voted top 3 for my specialty. Last night I was on the book of faces looking for a specific photo and discovered this buried in the trenches. And it made me think about my own journey and some of the things I have learned as a Creative who earns money with their art.

In 2016 I began pursuing photography. I bought a Costco DSLR kit with starter lenses and was determined to learn this craft. I spent hours watching online videos, learning my camera, studying, taking photo after photo, and then learning how to edit. I learned about lighting and framing and posing and so many other things. I made a post in 2017 wanting practice and to build my portfolio.

I could go into why this was not the best way to approach building my portfolio, but I was so new to everything and very eager. And truthfully, it brought about the wrong type of people. People who didn't appreciate what I was trying to do or what I was offering, even if it was unprofessional and, quite frankly bad.

One specific person reached out wanting some type of session for their child, I think either a 1st birthday or something similar. They wanted a cake, props, multiple outfit changes, and multiple locations. For me as new I was, their request felt overwhelming and was going to cost me a lot of money. And truthfully, this type of photography was not what I was (and still not) interested in at all which meant it wasn't really something I was going to be able to use in my portfolio.

But, because I'm a people pleaser, I thought a compromise of if they brought the props and cakes and everything else they wanted, I would do the photography for them. I felt that was fair. This person didn't. They proceeded to berate me and tell me I'm not that special, there are so many other photographers out there. And instead of blocking this person, I apologized. I didn't do the session, but I still apologized.

This made me feel like such a failure at the time. And I was sad about it for a few days. But I pushed forward and continued my creative journey.

In 2018, I found myself frustrated. I had substantially upgraded my equipment, I had a fledgling business, not as many clients as I was hoping for (I was desperate to leave the corporate world and go full time) and the general ideation that I was doing something so very, very wrong. I was charging a fair price for my art and time, read $100 a session for all the edited photos and the session. In pure desperation, I made another post on the book of faces asking for genuine opinions from friends and family on what was wrong with *me*?

Remember that person from before that wanted the sun, moon, and stars for a free session? They took that opportunity after over a year to slide into my dms and leave me this gem.

I will be honest, my initial reaction was to type out a War & Peace sized response to this. This message gutted me. And instead of seeing this as one person who felt entitled to any art they wanted for free, I took this to mean I was a terrible artist and wrong for wanting to build up a business to support myself. I did end up blocking this person without ever sending a message and forcing myself to once again move on.

Because not everything and everyone is worthy of my energy to a response.

In as much as I wanted to be compensated for my time, talent, skill, and art, I didn't have to compensate every single person who threw energy towards me. Or attempted to suck energy from me. And perhaps this was a moment where I realized that maybe I didn't want to take on every single person who came to me wanting photos. That maybe they weren't the right fit.

So I continued on in my journey. I built my business up, I honed in on my skills. I created and experimented and played. And I began to raise my prices.

I want to remind you dear creative and artist, that there is nothing wrong creating and giving your creation away for free if that is what you want. And there is nothing wrong with refusing a demand for free art. There will be many who come to you with guilt trips and every sort of reason why they are entitled to your time, talent, skill, and creation. Do not let someone guilt or bully you.

Even if you are still learning and new.

Don't give up on your artistic journey or desire to grow your "business". But don't sacrifice your peace and your mental well being by taking on things that will not also benefit you. Not everyone is your client.

Here is something I can share on tumblr that won't get me banned.