#anikiaun

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Ha-ha, very funny

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October 4th - The Pall, in appalling apparel.

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October 3rd - Guardian in some very ripped jeans

I wanted to try and shade this one since I had time but the colours weren’t very conducive to it. Also she should be showing more leg. But I have much less idea what Guardian’s bottom half looks like.

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You’ve done things the stars wouldn’t believe

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Ianva Foresight, Intuition, Prescience

The linear time of the physical realm is something even most anikiaun cannot safely circumvent - with the exception of Ianva. A lover of conversation, summoning her is simple - requesting she actually use her powers is a hostage negotiation. Due to her chosen appearance and easy way with conversation, rumours that Ianva used to be human have swirled for as long as her appearances have been recorded. Ianva enjoys and encourages such rumours, making references to her ‘old life’ frequently - how exactly anyone becomes an anikiaun is something neither she nor the rumours are clear on, and the common inconsistencies between all her stories are the greatest proof against the theory.

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October 10th - Marrow in That Hoodie

I didn’t make yesterday ‘cos I was dead on my feet all day, and then I almost forget to upload today’s!

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Strange sightings in sad places

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It’s the time of year to be wearing your favourite jumper (or two).

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Curious serpents (coloured and uncoloured)

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How many OCs can be born from the same root?

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Marrow

You will soon be untied

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Salleritt

Ancient, amoral, and full of...you know ;)

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Uncle Cliche

Say my name and I will find you.

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The thoughts and feelings of the physical world are reflected in the magical; that's the theory, anyway. Brief ideas and individual idiosyncracies spark into life as spirits and die just as quickly. More universal concepts live much longer, take on a life of their own, become part of the magical lexicon – anikiaun.

Sleipnir is curiosity, creativity, imagination. She was a free spirit (hah), moving from one experiment to another with what to anikiaun eyes was erratic speed. By comparison, Patron – anikiaun of power and corruption – has been toying with cults of all kinds for nearly the entirety of human civilisation. Yet, with all that time on her hands, Sleipnir's decision to wreak havoc with her pet project in 14th Century England fucked her off big time. And unfortunately for our Manic Pixie Dream Horse, Patron is in many ways the underlying concept behind all magic.

So what do you do when one of the biggest names in your species is gunning for you? Find a dying guy on a field, struggling to keep his guts in, and make a deal – you hide in his soul, he lives. And while you're at it, there's another experiment you've been thinking about trying – after all, for all that your kind revolves around humans, none of you really know what it's like to be one...

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Harold they’re anikiaun

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Quick I need to post this joke before it stops being funny

Most would not appreciate a 10pm emergency, but to Equon it was welcome - like most in his bloodline, disordered sleeping was part and parcel of his eccentricities. For this week at least, evenings were afternoons, and mornings existed only before sleep.

Still, it was fortunate the cinema was nearby – public transport in Grastel was unreliable at best.

From the outside, nothing seemed damaged, though the lack of police – or any – presence was concerning. Nobody stopped Equon as he entered through the glass sidedoor – the massive wooden doors in the middle had long been sealed off, merely historic facade now. Inside, the lobby was almost entirely filled, floor to ceiling, with turquoise coils. Reflecting iridescence from the lights above, they shimmered, seeming to move and twist subtly, changing position just out of sight. Unlike the other anikiaun known for this particular visual oddity – and Equon would be very surprised to find that one out and about – this one had an ending; she had a tail, delicately finned, and it was currently fanning a rather anxious young man mumbling standard-issue warding spells.

Equon caught the young man's eye, and he immediately span to face him, knuckles white and face red. He stopped the chanting in the process. "R-Redhand!" The man was wearing casual clothes, but had something approaching an ID badge pinned to his chest, at least. "Glad you're here, I'm, uh, Bolliger. Apprentice of the, um, occult division..." He held out a hand. Equon did not take it. "Apprentice?" "Can't really get the staff these days," he joked, raising his eyebrows in the universal symbol of begrudging agreement. "Well," said Equon, turning to the pile of vast, bright scales. "Given she's still here, clearly you weren't preventing her from leaving."

"So why are you here, Salleritt?" The coils shifted, masses of bulk settling. A head emerged from near the top – bulging, glassy fish eyes and a wide, wide mouth. It half-slithered, half-swung down to the ground, to where the two humans stood – one cowering in the face of a power he'd seen only in theoretical texts; the other vaguely curious at best. The mouth opened. Long, slender arms reached out, grabbed the lips, pulled the rest of its body out. There was the vague sense that two complete strangers should not be watching this - especially not together. Salleritt's humanoid body, emerging like a lure from the mouth of the sea serpent, was thin, delicate, hooded and faceless.

She pointed directly at Equon. "I've missed you." Her voice needed no mouth; it was stolen from the memory of the listener. "I didn't think we'd met." "Don't be coy." She spoke a name, a symbol of her native language, the language of magic – Equon's mind immediately translated it into a flurry of meanings, sensations -

You are the eyes that first saw the potential of flint, of fire, of language. The itch inherent to the human mind. Your tools failed you as you bled to death on the hillside until, revealing yourself, you shed your skin for this greatest project, these many faces, myriad existences -

Equon shook his head, freeing himself of memories that were not, in fact, his. "My name is Equon Redhand. And this is -" "Andrew Bolliger," he stage-whispered. "What did she say just then?"

"Enough pretence, cousin, help me." Salleritt's tail slapped the ground. "I come here to watch a movie and what do these creatures do? They panic! One would think we hadn't existed alongside them since they first started thinking, unless maybe that's gone out of style -" To Andrew's increasing anxiety, a smirk grew across Equon's face.

"You manifested – for the first time ever – to watch a movie?" "You of all people should understand curiosity, 'Redhand'." "Was it," Andrew offered, "the Shape of Water?" "No, silly!" For the first time Salleritt turned her eyeless face to the apprentice, and he blanched, wishing he could somehow hide in Redhand's shadow.

"It was Black Panther."