#Winterlayt

[dalennaugw]

Went to a CC hangout a while back where we got to chill and swap doodles. Bit like the art parties, but for guildmates who hadn't been able to make those.

I held onto these for a while so I could draw some more from the references I'd gotten... but my brain. Meh.

So here's what I did get.

A gathering of barkfaces to talk shit swap notes about fashion and socializing.

Winter gives no fucks actually. Valyrion is definitely learning something from this.

Commander Valoop has seen far too much and not been able to bite nearly enough people to compensate.

You might be looking like a chew toy right about now. You should probably step back a bit.

Valyrion and Valoop are from @dasozelotvonnebenan and Winterlayt is from @ruderubicante.

[ruderubicante]

Gods I love this so much thank you again!!! TAT

Late Winter in Divinity's Reach

Summary: Winter and Urlae are invited to celebrate the Lunar New Year's festival in Divinity's Reach.

Characters: Winterlayt, Urlae Summer, Lily Summer, Verdanzy

Notes: Winter's POV (2nd person); fluff; 1.2k words; this is my 2024 secret santa red envelope gift for @ruderubicante! happy new year!

—

The charr have this theory about humans, that they insist on being so noisy all the time to make up for their dull sense of hearing. You’re inclined to believe it. You’ve only just arrived in the Crown Pavilion and the cacophony of firecrackers and joyous shrieks bombards you from every angle, unrelenting. This was a bad idea.

“This was a bad idea,” Urlae remarks, echoing your thoughts. “We should leave.”

Well, now you obviously can’t leave. That would be letting him win.

“You can leave, if you’d like,” you offer, perfectly cordial. You even give him this sort of sympathetic look you’ve been practicing.

Urlae sees right through it. “You can drop the holier-than-thou act. I know you hate this racket just as much as I do.”

Your reply is as pleasant as spun sugar and just as substantial. “Hm? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A gaggle of human teenagers rush by, and for some reason, every single one of them feels the need to knock their bony elbows into your legs as they pass like you’re some Dragon Bash piñata. “Ow,” you intone with the same lofty cadence.

Urlae crosses his arms, unimpressed. “Winter, I can see your eye twitching.”

“You should get yours checked then, Doctor.”

“You’re acting like a huge prick right now.”

“And is that your personal or professional opinion—”

“Dad! You made it!” A new voice interrupts your bickering. Urlae turns faster than you, eyes scanning in the direction of the familiar shout until he spots a young charr squeezing her way out of a sea of humans. The tension bleeds from his shoulders as his daughter makes her way over to the pair of you.

“Oh,” he murmurs, a fond smile stretching across his face, “Lily, you look stunning.”

That, at least, you can agree on. Her hanbok is gorgeous in its simplicity, consisting of a pale green chima, an even paler yellow jeogori, and as she gets closer, you spy little white flowers embroidered on the goreum. Combined with her soft, well-brushed fur, she looks like the last frost before spring, in spite of her namesake.

Speaking of spring. Verdanzy is next out of the crowd, the blue-and-orange ribbons of their hanfu fluttering wildly behind them in their hurry. Their beizi is light and delicate, long sleeves billowing around their body like a cloud.

“Hi, Uncle! Hi, Dad!” they cry, and now it’s your turn to smile. Which, to everyone else, looks like an infinitesimal uptick of the corner of your mouth. It seems like a hassle for them, having to constantly dodge lanterns and paper dragons and the occasional stray sparkler because of their height, but when they skid to a halt in front of you, it’s clear that nothing short of an apocalypse could ruin this day for them.

“Wow, Uncle,” they start, breathless, “you look great!”

Pleased, Urlae gives them a short bow. He’s wearing an áo dài himself, a long-sleeved peach-colored tunic embroidered with matching blossoms over black trousers. The whole ensemble is made of silk, and the reflection of the warm lantern lights in the fabric creates an illusion of luminescence.

“Thank you, Verdanzy. I’m glad at least you two understand the importance of dressing well,” he says, shooting you a sidelong glance.

You look down at your extra lumpy sweater. It’s a thing of beauty—in your humble and unbiased opinion—made of eye-catching (though some would say eye-searing) red and yellow wool. “I’m told these are the traditional colors. Very auspicious.”

“But not traditional dress,” Urlae says, picking at a loose bit of yarn on your shoulder. You slap his hand away.

“When did you get here? Have you eaten? Just in case you haven’t, we got something for you!” Lily manages all in one breath. “Here!”

She shoves a paper carton under your noses. Yours, literal, and Urlae’s, figurative. The gentle reminder that you two can’t eat regular food dies on your tongue when you open the container.

“...Is it human custom to eat raw meat during this festival?” you ask instead, staring down at the chilled pile of—you sniff the meat—uncooked pork.

“Nope!” Verdanzy chimes in, “We just asked if we could have some of the, uh, what’s it called?”

“Bánh chưng,” Lily provides helpfully.

“That. We asked for some of the filling before they cooked it. They didn’t even charge us.”

“You’re kind to think of us,” you say, taking the small wooden skewer that Verdanzy holds out to you. The raw pork strips are soft and marbled with fat, yielding under your teeth with surprising ease. Seasoned well with salt and pepper, but unlikely to make you sick later. It’s not bad. Urlae gives you a knowing look as he chews slowly on his own meat skewer. It’s rare the two of you get the opportunity to actually enjoy the food you eat.

“Have you two been enjoying the festival?” Urlae asks after swallowing. 

“Yeah!” Verdanzy nods fervently. “We’ve been having lots of fun at the game tables. I think one of the dealers is using loaded dice, though. I lost a handful of silver there.”

You reach for your gun.

“Dad.”

“That was humor,” you clarify, holstering your pistol. What, did they think you were actually going to shoot someone for your kid? …Hm. Unconvincing even in your own thoughts.

“I liked your joke, Uncle Winter,” Lily reassures. “And you two are just in time for the lion dancers! They’re about to start, c’mon!”

You and Urlae are unceremoniously dragged through a throng of people and all the way to the front of the crowd. Some people glare up at Verdanzy, who can’t help their height, but quickly find other places to look after catching a glimpse of your glower. A crash of cymbals and rhythmic drumming pierces the air, and cheers erupt as costumed dancers bound into the middle of the circle.

They don’t look like any lions you’ve ever seen, but what do you know? Perhaps Canthan lions are much more friendly and colorful than their Elonian counterparts. Admittedly, they’re growing on you. The puppetry is impressive, and for most of the performance you even forget that it’s two human dancers under there, and not one giant, fuzzy beast.

A little ways to your right, Lily urges a reluctant Urlae to offer a cabbage to the lion. “Quick, Dad, he’s coming back around, hold it out! He’s not going to eat it if he can’t see it—”

The lion considers the offering for just long enough that you can see Urlae’s patience wearing thin, then takes the whole head of cabbage into its mouth, making a show of chewing the vegetable with great vigor. Abruptly, it stands up on its hind legs, opens its mouth—

“This is my favorite part,” Verdanzy whispers.

—and begins spitting cabbage leaves back into the crowd. Before you can move out of the way, Verdanzy holds their arm up above your head, protecting you from being pelted by the chewed-up cabbage. To your endless amusement, Urlae is not so lucky. As soon as he peels a cold, wet leaf off his face, he’s immediately hit with another one. And another one.

“It’s supposed to bring good fortune, apparently,” Verdanzy explains, grinning. They look down at you, eyes bright with unrestrained mirth. You would give the world for them to be this carefree all the time.

“Is that so?” you say instead of voicing that thought, “I suppose I am feeling rather fortunate right now.”

“Yeah? That’s good. Happy New Year’s, Dad.”

“Happy New Year’s.”

[mabaki]

GW2CC Attack on @ruderubicante of Winterlayt! Such a cool guy auugh

[ruderubicante]

My piece for the 'commander of your heart' zine featuring my dear long suffering engineer Winterlayt.

I enjoyed working on this and seeing everyone else's pieces, and I think you guys will too! So please go look at the zine! It's free and over 200 pages worth of work from a variety of very lovely folks!

[sylvaridreams]

hi just letting you know that is indeed not trahearne, but op's character Winterlayt 🫡

WOAHH FIXED. I need my eyes checked thank you!

[aleyannadenton]

Just some casual photography with @ruderubicante‘s Winterlayt!

[bunbun-miz]

I realized I didn’t post @ruderubicante  ‘s Secret Santa present! What a fancy fancy plant; it was a pleasure to get a chance to draw him! <3 I was this freakin’ close to putting a festive labcoat on him but decided against it lmfao

[antariies]

Late Winter in Divinity's Reach

Summary: Winter and Urlae are invited to celebrate the Lunar New Year's festival in Divinity's Reach.

Characters: Winterlayt, Urlae Summer, Lily Summer, Verdanzy

Notes: Winter's POV (2nd person); fluff; 1.2k words; this is my 2024 secret santa red envelope gift for @ruderubicante! happy new year!

—

The charr have this theory about humans, that they insist on being so noisy all the time to make up for their dull sense of hearing. You’re inclined to believe it. You’ve only just arrived in the Crown Pavilion and the cacophony of firecrackers and joyous shrieks bombards you from every angle, unrelenting. This was a bad idea.

“This was a bad idea,” Urlae remarks, echoing your thoughts. “We should leave.”

Well, now you obviously can’t leave. That would be letting him win.

“You can leave, if you’d like,” you offer, perfectly cordial. You even give him this sort of sympathetic look you’ve been practicing.

Urlae sees right through it. “You can drop the holier-than-thou act. I know you hate this racket just as much as I do.”

Your reply is as pleasant as spun sugar and just as substantial. “Hm? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A gaggle of human teenagers rush by, and for some reason, every single one of them feels the need to knock their bony elbows into your legs as they pass like you’re some Dragon Bash piñata. “Ow,” you intone with the same lofty cadence.

Urlae crosses his arms, unimpressed. “Winter, I can see your eye twitching.”

“You should get yours checked then, Doctor.”

“You’re acting like a huge prick right now.”

“And is that your personal or professional opinion—”

“Dad! You made it!” A new voice interrupts your bickering. Urlae turns faster than you, eyes scanning in the direction of the familiar shout until he spots a young charr squeezing her way out of a sea of humans. The tension bleeds from his shoulders as his daughter makes her way over to the pair of you.

“Oh,” he murmurs, a fond smile stretching across his face, “Lily, you look stunning.”

That, at least, you can agree on. Her hanbok is gorgeous in its simplicity, consisting of a pale green chima, an even paler yellow jeogori, and as she gets closer, you spy little white flowers embroidered on the goreum. Combined with her soft, well-brushed fur, she looks like the last frost before spring, in spite of her namesake.

Speaking of spring. Verdanzy is next out of the crowd, the blue-and-orange ribbons of their hanfu fluttering wildly behind them in their hurry. Their beizi is light and delicate, long sleeves billowing around their body like a cloud.

“Hi, Uncle! Hi, Dad!” they cry, and now it’s your turn to smile. Which, to everyone else, looks like an infinitesimal uptick of the corner of your mouth. It seems like a hassle for them, having to constantly dodge lanterns and paper dragons and the occasional stray sparkler because of their height, but when they skid to a halt in front of you, it’s clear that nothing short of an apocalypse could ruin this day for them.

“Wow, Uncle,” they start, breathless, “you look great!”

Pleased, Urlae gives them a short bow. He’s wearing an áo dài himself, a long-sleeved peach-colored tunic embroidered with matching blossoms over black trousers. The whole ensemble is made of silk, and the reflection of the warm lantern lights in the fabric creates an illusion of luminescence.

“Thank you, Verdanzy. I’m glad at least you two understand the importance of dressing well,” he says, shooting you a sidelong glance.

You look down at your extra lumpy sweater. It’s a thing of beauty—in your humble and unbiased opinion—made of eye-catching (though some would say eye-searing) red and yellow wool. “I’m told these are the traditional colors. Very auspicious.”

“But not traditional dress,” Urlae says, picking at a loose bit of yarn on your shoulder. You slap his hand away.

“When did you get here? Have you eaten? Just in case you haven’t, we got something for you!” Lily manages all in one breath. “Here!”

She shoves a paper carton under your noses. Yours, literal, and Urlae’s, figurative. The gentle reminder that you two can’t eat regular food dies on your tongue when you open the container.

“...Is it human custom to eat raw meat during this festival?” you ask instead, staring down at the chilled pile of—you sniff the meat—uncooked pork.

“Nope!” Verdanzy chimes in, “We just asked if we could have some of the, uh, what’s it called?”

“Bánh chưng,” Lily provides helpfully.

“That. We asked for some of the filling before they cooked it. They didn’t even charge us.”

“You’re kind to think of us,” you say, taking the small wooden skewer that Verdanzy holds out to you. The raw pork strips are soft and marbled with fat, yielding under your teeth with surprising ease. Seasoned well with salt and pepper, but unlikely to make you sick later. It’s not bad. Urlae gives you a knowing look as he chews slowly on his own meat skewer. It’s rare the two of you get the opportunity to actually enjoy the food you eat.

“Have you two been enjoying the festival?” Urlae asks after swallowing. 

“Yeah!” Verdanzy nods fervently. “We’ve been having lots of fun at the game tables. I think one of the dealers is using loaded dice, though. I lost a handful of silver there.”

You reach for your gun.

“Dad.”

“That was humor,” you clarify, holstering your pistol. What, did they think you were actually going to shoot someone for your kid? …Hm. Unconvincing even in your own thoughts.

“I liked your joke, Uncle Winter,” Lily reassures. “And you two are just in time for the lion dancers! They’re about to start, c’mon!”

You and Urlae are unceremoniously dragged through a throng of people and all the way to the front of the crowd. Some people glare up at Verdanzy, who can’t help their height, but quickly find other places to look after catching a glimpse of your glower. A crash of cymbals and rhythmic drumming pierces the air, and cheers erupt as costumed dancers bound into the middle of the circle.

They don’t look like any lions you’ve ever seen, but what do you know? Perhaps Canthan lions are much more friendly and colorful than their Elonian counterparts. Admittedly, they’re growing on you. The puppetry is impressive, and for most of the performance you even forget that it’s two human dancers under there, and not one giant, fuzzy beast.

A little ways to your right, Lily urges a reluctant Urlae to offer a cabbage to the lion. “Quick, Dad, he’s coming back around, hold it out! He’s not going to eat it if he can’t see it—”

The lion considers the offering for just long enough that you can see Urlae’s patience wearing thin, then takes the whole head of cabbage into its mouth, making a show of chewing the vegetable with great vigor. Abruptly, it stands up on its hind legs, opens its mouth—

“This is my favorite part,” Verdanzy whispers.

—and begins spitting cabbage leaves back into the crowd. Before you can move out of the way, Verdanzy holds their arm up above your head, protecting you from being pelted by the chewed-up cabbage. To your endless amusement, Urlae is not so lucky. As soon as he peels a cold, wet leaf off his face, he’s immediately hit with another one. And another one.

“It’s supposed to bring good fortune, apparently,” Verdanzy explains, grinning. They look down at you, eyes bright with unrestrained mirth. You would give the world for them to be this carefree all the time.

“Is that so?” you say instead of voicing that thought, “I suppose I am feeling rather fortunate right now.”

“Yeah? That’s good. Happy New Year’s, Dad.”

“Happy New Year’s.”

[ruderubicante]

Legendary pistol based off my sylvari commander Winterlayt

[ruderubicante]

A quick doodle study of Winterlayt today. Missed drawing him.

[ruderubicante]

Ooh character questions! okay,heres possibly a hard one: who is your favorite character ? either in term of how you write them, or the one you prefer drawing the most :)

My favorite character is probably Verdanzy, I find that their viewpoint of the world and the expectation they burden themself with on the assumption that they *must* reach greatness is nothing but horrifically interesting for me to pull and tug at. Whether their assumptions are true or not also make for something I love in a character and the world they live in. I've also always been a fan of the trope that the smiling fool is the wisest in the group.

That said - I hate drawing them, I went with the long willow like braids for their haircut and I've never known peace since!!! As for my favorite for drawing - it's almost a tie between Urlae and Winter.

Urlae's face shape has always been a challenge for me and it's one I like doing over and over.

With Winterlayt it's because a lot of his expressions, mannerisms and body language are things familiar to me. Restrained, tempered to the point it's actually a little scary. There's an unnatural ease in which he smiles and acts jovial, one that Verdanzy's unfortunately picked up from him and uses often that I think helps gets across that this is someone in pain.

[ruderubicante]

Page 591 - The Lies at Our Roots, Our Foundation. Page 590 , Page 592

[ruderubicante]

Food for Thought

"So how is it?" Verdanzy looks up at Winterlayt and Urlae, eyes wide as they chew on a mouthful of cooked lamb. They think about it for a moment before looking down at their plate, "Oddly sweet - and then bitter in places." Both blink at them and then turn to each other. Winterlayt shrugs, "I suppose that would be the mint and then the thyme." Urlae shrugs in response, "I've never cooked it before, I just followed what Helvelta told me to do." Verdanzy tilts their head, "Why the thyme? It's so bitter." Their father shrugs and gestures to a book at the end of the dining room table, "Found out it was by royal decree that thyme and bitter herbs are cooked with lamb because of people preferring it over mutton - as demand went up it meant less lambs to grow up, then less sheep to have the lambs in the first place. A rather silly rule if not an effective one." "But can't people just choose to eat lamb without the thyme?" "Yes but with the rule instated it was illegal and you could be fined." "Ah."

Verdanzy looks back down at the plate, "...Why am I eating this?" Urlae shrugs, "Lily and Weyther won't because of the mint, and we can't - it's more because we're both happy you can eat such things." Verdanzy scowls and cuts up another piece, "So I'm your guinea pig." Urlae chuckles, "Pretty much - but please know it's because we're happy you can do things we can't." Verdanzy glances at Winterlayt, "Have you tried?" "Yeah...We both have, numerous times." Winterlayts' face is its usual stoney glower, but there's almost a smile on his thin lips. There's a pause before he speaks up, "Back when I was a sapling - when I awoke within the Inquest labs, they still thought us plants that mimicked sentience. They thought that due to our bodies being that of plants we should be able to survive like plants off sunshine, water and dirt. Unfortunately, we're a bit more complex than that." Vedranzy can see their uncle rolling his eyes at the corner of his sight as Winterlayt continues, "But movement requires so much more energy than what can be absorbed by the ground. So some of us managed to stave off starvation by basically sleeping 24/7 to conserve what little energy we had." The engineer seems lost in his memories, "It's...only with some of us dying that they realized soething was wrong, and then the theory was made that perhaps we were carnivorous plants like pitchers and fly traps." There's another pause as Winter's hand lies flat on the book and then slowly grips it to the point his knuckles as a bright gold, "I had only ever eaten dirt until then, so as soon as they gave me meat - well, I craved it." He doesn't look at them, doesn't move an inch. There's a moment where Verdanzy sees the commanders' shoulders tighten and his grip on the book loosen; "I ate naught else, and by the time I was free - by the time I was out of there, I knew nothing else and the shock of trying for the first time with Autl cooking me a piece of beef was..." He turns to Verdanzy, a somewhat sad but wide grin on his face; "I couldn't do it. The texture, the smell - spices and the like - cheese and dairy, all of it made me dreadfully sick but we did try it all." He looks to Urlae, who shares the same hollow gaze and a solemn nod. They both look to Verdanzy, "So yeah - we're both just happy you're nothing like us, and can eat such things."

Verdanzy looks down at the plate, unsure what to say, unsure what to think; they pick up another piece of cut lamb with their fork to chew it. "Thank you."

[ruderubicante]

Page 592 - Trust and Resolve Page 591 . Page 593

[ruderubicante]

Page 590 - The Dagger that hides in Pillars shadow Page 589 , Page 591

[ruderubicante]

Page 589 - Supporting the Pillar Page 588 , Page 590