#but those men were white and wyll is black and it’s the only thing that separates him from them

[dorindameddler]

Sorry I know I make this post like once a week but it’s just soooo hard to enjoy bg3 fandom when the racism is such a huge elephant in the room

[euryalex]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by the amazing talented @imogenkol thank you so much!!

Tagging @courierseis @swingxilly @florallychaotic @mercymaker @shannaraisles and anyone else who wants to share a wip!!

I'm working on a little AU for Wyll x Tara again, this one set in a medieval fantasy world. That's all I'll say for now 😉😏

Once upon a time, the lake in the forest was nothing but a legend. A fairy tale. A whispered warning among hunters and travellers. But when Wyll first saw her – moonlight spilling over black feathers, eyes full of sorrow – he understood why men spoke of ghosts in the forest.

It was a knock at the wooden door that woke him up. At first, he wasn’t sure if he heard it right. Then another knock came, this one louder than the last. The young boy jumped out of his canopy bed that was adorned with red curtains.

Swinging the door open, he was met with Tara’s bright smile. Tara was a young girl with skin as white as ivory. She had dark brown eyes which seemed more like deep abysses that he could find himself drowning in. Her cheeks were freckled with constellations of dots and he always teased her for it. She wore a red gown, matching his red robe that he wore to sleep.

Red was the colour of his family’s shield, so every fabric that could be found in the castle was most likely red in colour. It had been that way for centuries now, since the Ravengards ruled for over six centuries. The Ravengards were a noble family, known for their dark skin and darker hair. Many assassination attempts to vie for the throne were made, and none succeeded. Wyll’s father, Ulder, was therefore protective over his son and only let Wyll be surrounded by people Ulder trusted. Tara was one of those people, on account of her being the court enchanter’s ward.

“Wyll!” Tara said in a hushed whisper, “It’s time to train!”

Wyll smiled at her and pulled her inside his room. He wasn’t allowed to have girls in his room – it’d start rumours, you see – but Tara wasn’t just a girl, she was his best friend, and for all he cared, friends were allowed in his room.

As crown prince, Wyll got a large chamber to sleep in at night. It was nestled within the thick stone walls of the castle’s inner keep. A narrow, arched window let in a sliver of light, though more often than not, the room remained dim, lit only by the soft glow of candles made of animal fat. The air carried the faint scent of wax, stone and worn leather of books stacked unevenly on a wooden shelf.

His bed stood against the wall, its wooden frame rough but strong, covered with a straw-stuffed mattress and a heavy woollen blanket and animal furs as the cold seemed to seep in through the cracks of the castle. A chest at the foot of his bed held his most prized possessions – which happened to be things he could play with.

Opposite the window was a hearth. Nearby was a table, that bore scratches and ink stains of many lessons, with parchment left forgotten besides a wooden cup. A toy knight, carved expertly by one of the city’s best carpenters, laid discarded on the desk, his sword raised high in eternal battle.

In his room, opposite his canopy bed, was a mahogany wardrobe. Inside were all his outfits, ranging from riding clothes to fancy clothes only reserved for balls and feasts. In the midst were training clothes. Simple tunics and trousers for when Wyll had to train to fight. He handed a set to Tara, who shook off her long burgundy gown. She stuffed her underdress into the brown leather trousers and then put on the worn brown tunic. Using a short strap of leather fabric, she tied her curly, raven hair into a messy ponytail. While she got changed, Wyll put on a similar outfit – brown leather trousers and a white tunic.

Out of the back of his closet, Wyll pulled out two training swords he kept hidden there. They were made of wood but hurt just as well. He threw one at Tara, who grabbed the hilt with ease as if she’d been practising.