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eleanorblythe · 2 months ago

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Wicked Game - Emmrich x Original Female Character (Rook) - Chapter 5

ALERT! ALERT! WE FINALLY MEET EMMRICH THIS CHAPTER!

…it does not go well.

As always let me know what you think!

You can also read on Ao3 - here

Chapter 5 - For Whom the Bell Tolls

Bellara was right about the chill that radiated off the Necropolis. Any colder and Emlygil would have been able to see the mist of her breath, ghosting in front of her as she walked the intimidating halls.

As Bellara chatted jovially about her excitement of meeting the professor and which direction they needed to go, it took everything for Emlygil not to empty the contents of her stomach. Every nerve in her body was like a live wire and was so tense, she could probably be snapped in half with a well aimed blow.

The home of necromancy. An ostentatious shrine to decay. A church of death.

They were in an enclosed lift descending for what felt like forever. Her tomb. When they finally reached the bottom the only sounds were that of the howling wind and what sounded like distant shrieking - though that could have just been Emlygil’s internal thoughts.

Never ending screaming.

“No sign of the professor.” Emlygil said after only entering one dark corridor, already resolving to turn back.

“I hope he’s here, and that he doesn’t mind us disturbing him. He is a senior necromancer, I don’t- oh!” Bellara stopped short as they came face to face with a skeleton raising a pick axe above its head. It seemed ready to swing, but it moved past them, unknowing and started to dig at a pile of rubble next to the two women.

There was a handful of skeletons working mindlessly, but no one else.

“Perhaps he returned up top.”

“No, that elevator is the only way down, we would have seen him.”

Then there, really was, the unmistakable sound of a distant piercing scream.

“We should go after that sound, maybe the professor needs help!” Bellara said already starting to move towards the sound.

“Bellara, wait.” Emlygil was rooted to the spot. “We should go and get help before rushing into the unknown ourselves, recklessly.”

Bellara was not so foolish, not to piece together that for whatever reason, Emlygil was deeply uncomfortable or afraid of the necromantic arts. She supposed this was not uncommon, even level-headed Neve had expressed concerns of having a necromancer join the group. Bellara was sure any fears would dissipate after they met Professor Volkarin. He was always so kind and polite in their letters.

“If we go and come back it may be too late, the professor might be in danger, now.” Emlygil dared not argue out loud that she was not about to risk her life for a wretched necromancer. She merely internalised it. Despite every fibre of her being itching to flee this awful place, Emlygil gave a stiff nod and went to follow Bellara.

They stuck close together navigating the similar corridors. It was a labyrinth, as warned. Due to the cavernous nature of the halls, the dissonant whispers and cries were impossible to pinpoint where they were originating from. Emlygil was all but glued to Bellara’s side, convinced that if she stepped away, even for a moment, that she would be lost.

She hated that she was so often right.

All it took was a single glance away, looking up at a disturbing skeletal statue, and when Emlygil turned back, she was alone. She whipped her head around only to find she was in a different corridor. She attempted to call out, but her mouth was dry.

“Bellara?” She called. She hated the waver in her voice. She began quickly but quietly stealing down the unending hallway. Looking for a way out. Looking for safety. Calling Bellara’s name repeatedly, each time growing that little bit more desperate.

She eventually reached the end of the corridor and came to a small flight of stairs, leading to a small congregation area. In the centre was a ring of ice and smoke. She could feel terrible pain radiating off it. A total absence of hope. It felt wrong. She went to turn back when the smoke rapidly swirled and a creature emerged. Covered in tattered black robes, sharp claws and teeth, suddenly lunging for her.

It somehow cloaked her world in complete darkness, where there was only her and the demon. No escape and no hope.

Only despair.

______

Emmrich may have made a brash decision, deciding to scope out the danger ahead without first warning anyone else. As he delved deeper into the Shrouded Halls, he could not keep the thought out of his mind that something had gone terribly awry in this part of the Necropolis - the dead were far too restless and wondered if it was connected to the rumours of what was happening in the wider world of Thedas.

With an annoyed tut, he saw it was not just the dead that were restless, but the Necropolis itself as he came to a dead end where he knew there should be a connecting corridor. He double backed on himself, when he heard the unmistakable scream of a despair demon. Close by as well.

They shouldn’t be able to breech these halls at all. Something must be wrong with the bell.

Then he heard another scream. This time not a demon’s, but a woman’s. Never one to run from the cries of a damsel in distress, Emmrich rushed around the various passages and rooms attempting to get around the dead end put forth by his beloved, but occasionally obstinate, home.

He rounded the corner to see, indeed a despair demon, swooping and slashing at someone else. He did not recognise her. She had done well to keep pace with such a dangerous creature. She moved with such grace and elegance as she wielded her staff, ducking and diving around it. A beautiful dance. Perhaps not such a damsel after all.

He feared, he spoke too soon.

The demon suddenly blinked out of existence only to reappear a second later and bring its sharp talons down across her chest. She cried out in pain and staggered back allowing the demon to grab her by the neck and throw her against the wall. Her body crumpled and she did not get back up. Emmrich rushed down to take down the demon once and for all.

As experienced Emmrich was with dealing with these types of fiends, he was able to send it back to the void it belonged quickly. He suspected it was already close to death due to the damage the young mage had already done. With a final howling shriek the demon disappeared. Emmrich quickly scanned for further danger, sensing it was now safe, then crouching before the woman. He turned her over so he could assess the damage.

She was beautiful. Striking. Almost ethereal, even with her clothing torn and covered in her own blood. Her platinum blonde hair had broken free from her carefully crafted updo and he was shocked to see it fall down around her waist. She had a fair complexion, but right now, Emmrich knew she was suffering blood loss and was much paler than she should have been.

He hovered his hands over and allowed the healing magic to spread over her body, the bloody slashes stitching themselves back together. Emmrich noticed some slightly older red scratches near her throat, but his priority was getting her to regain consciousness. He saw her shift and start to come around, her eyes fluttered open.

Glacial blue.

In combination with her elongated Elven ears, she looked positively otherworldly. She looked unlike any elf he had ever seen before.

He saw her eyes slowly focus as her gaze settled on him. He open his mouth to say something, but her eyes - now suddenly, startlingly clear - flew open as she frantically rolled away from him.

______

Emlygil’s head was swimming. She remembered being slashed, choked and slammed. While her body ached she did not feel any injuries. Then she felt the familiar kiss of healing magic over her body. Thank Mythal, Bellara had found her. She felt her wounds close and regained the strength to open her eyes.

She wished she hadn’t.

Through her haze, she saw the outline of someone far taller than Bellara leaning over her. Then she blinked and saw the thing that had plagued her nightmares. A pale translucent skull of fire staring back at her.

With a panicked gasp she rolled away, ignoring the screaming of her muscles and grabbed her staff nearby, using it to stand and scramble further away.

This was the foul creature responsible for everything. This thing had stripped her of her family, her home, her birthright.

All that blood. All that pain. All that loss.

From reading their body language, the skull looked momentarily confused and clumsily raised themselves off the floor while keeping their hands raised in surrender.

Surrender?

It was a distraction. A way to disarm her, to make her lower her guard.

“My apologies! I didn’t mean to star-“

She didn’t let it finish whispering its false and empty words. With a pained grunt she thrust her hands forward and allowed a torrent of magic to flow through them, with enough power to knock him off his feet, and long enough for her to dash past it and back the way she came.

To the hells with propriety, she tore down the halls screaming Bellara’s name until she felt like her vocal cords would bleed.

______

Emmrich was lucky to have better reactions than was expected for a man his age. The elf’s barrage of magic, he mostly shielded himself from, but it was still powerful enough to throw him back.

She had been scared of him. No more than scared. She had been petrified.

He wondered what could have caused such a reaction, he then remembered he was still maintaining his illusory mask. He quickly dispelled it. Well, at least he now knew the answer to the long held question in his mind of how people from outside Nevarra would react to seeing the evocation of the Flame of the Last Steps.

Not well, apparently.

But her reaction went much further than just discomfort and shock. He would have to find her again and apologise.

She had ran away screaming a name - Bellara. It was not one of the Watcher’s names as far as he-

Bellara. The Dalish elf who had been writing to him on matters of the fade. Why was she possibly here? He followed after the young mage, hoping to find her before any of the other restless dead found her first. He also needed to know why such a spirit had even manifested here in these halls.

He needed to get to the bell.

______

After fearing she would forever be lost within the winding passages and crumbling rooms, Emlygil found herself emerging into a large open area with a small body of water with several platforms in the middle and hanging above them, what looked to be an ornate bell. She cried out Bellara’s name one more time before she finally heard something call back that wasn’t her own panicked echo.

“Emlygil? Thank the Maker! What happened back there? Wait, are you hurt?!” Bellara rushed over looking relieved then concerned when she saw Emlygil’s ripped clothing and dried blood flaking against her slightly pallid skin.

“I- I’m fine, what happened to you?”

“I got stuck in this maze but the walls kept moving, as if this place wasn’t already enough of a labyrinth. Did you find the professor?”

“No. We should get out of here.”

“If we find the professor I’m sure he can get us out of here.” Bellara looked around for a doorway that wasn’t sealed off with red Lyrium crystals when she saw another person enter the room for the same passage Emlygil had just come from.

“Hi!” Bellara called out, causing Emlygil to turn and wonder what or who she was yelling at. “I don’t suppose you could help us? We’re looking for a Professor Volkarin, but we got separated and it’s a whole mess and-“

“It’s not very often we get visitors.” He approached the elf. “If I had known you were coming I would have been at the entrance to give proper introductions. Professor Emmrich Volkarin, of the Mourn Watch.”

Bellara excitedly rushed to shake his hand. “Hello, Professor! We’ve never met, well in person, but I’ve been writing to you.”

“Bellara! My dear girl! What a pleasure! Surely you didn’t come all this way just to see me?”

“Umm actually we did. You see we need a fade expert, but- oh sorry! This is Emlygil.” Bellara let go of Emmrich’s hand and stepped back to allow Emlygil to make her introductions. But she didn’t. Bellara noticed she was wearing a slightly mortified expression - well, as mortified as Emlygil ever allowed her face to look. Wide eyed and lips pressed together, her hand clenching and unclenching at her side.

“Emlygil.” He repeated as he took a step towards her, but the flash of her eyes indicated that she was not comfortable with him moving any closer. “Allow me to apologise properly for frightening you just now. I had no idea the illusion was still active. I only wanted to ensure you were alright.”

This was surely not the same person, who just terrorised her. This man was polite. Courteous. Practically grovelling an apology. He looked so sincere.

Do not mistake his kindness for weakness. You know what his kind are capable of. Kindness is too often a decoy.

He risked taking another small step towards her, brows slightly furrowed, eyes filled with such aching concern “Are you alright?” He asked softly.

She continued to stare. Her expression hard, but her extraordinary eyes were a sea of emotions. He was at risk at becoming quite lost in them.

Emlygil took him in. He was tall and slender, his thin moustache had the capacity to make him look villainous, instead it made him look gentlemanly. His hair was mostly grey with age - a sign of human frailty and weakness - but with its occasional streaks of black, moulded and styled so meticulously, she found it to be quite captivating.

She considered him handsome.

Her own private observations were enough to expel the remaining air out of her lungs. Was she so weak-willed that one kind look from a deplorable monster was enough to make her swoon? To forget what he was?

Pathetic. Weak. Stupid girl.

She realised she would have to say something, if only to get him to stop looking at her like…that.

“I am fine.” She said stiltedly.

“What a relief! I must say you did marvellously against that despair demon, I’ve never seen someone move with such fluidity!”

Why was he saying these things? To alleviate his discomfort or her own? She took another step back and made a small humming noise in acknowledgment. She hoped he would read her discomfort as embarrassment. Better that, than the cacophony of voices and screams and images and memories racing in her head.

Emmrich understood that she was uncomfortable, possibly embarrassed and appreciated that perhaps now was not the time, she needed time for the shock to wear off. So he took a step back himself and finally looked around the room, quickly realising the issue.

“Someone’s bared the doors and chained the Sunken Star!”

Suddenly they all felt the earth start to tremble and Emlygil caught sight of a skeletal hand bursting forth, clawing its way out. Everyone spread out and readied their weapons.

“We may need to defend ourselves, depending on their condition.” Emmrich warned.

The hideous chorus from the outcropping of undead gave him his answer.

“Haven’t fought undead in a while!” Bellara said. She almost sounded excited.

“There’s no reaching these. They’re mindless.” Emmrich shouted as he started to fend the oncoming hoard off.

“What does that mean?” Bellara asked.

“I’m afraid sometimes the weaker dead work themselves up into frenzies, poor things!” How was it he could show compassion for these creatures while simultaneously destroying them?

Hypocrite. Murderer. Monster.

As the last undead disintegrated, Emmrich moved towards one of the many doors in the Hollow Belfry.

“I must free that bell.”

“Can we help?” Bellara asked, always willing to do whatever she could.

“Thank you. The Star - the bell - can banish these despair spirits if we unchain it.” He looked down at the receptacle by the door and saw what was needed. “We’ll need a wisp to unseal the doors leading out. Could you please find one and bring it here?”

Emlygil wasn’t sure what a wisp was but it clearly wasn’t anywhere near the necromancer so she was happy to look for one. She turned to survey the room when a blue ball of light bounced into view and circled around her chirping happily. In surprise she tried to move away but the light stuck close by her.

“What is-?”

“Ah well done, Emlygil. You obviously have an affinity with them. Wisps are the simplest of spirits, but quite helpful. Bring it over here and we can unseal the doors.”

She regarded the light. Mellow and floating peacefully next to her. She cautiously approached the doors, worried at any moment the wisp would attack. When she reached the receptacle the wisp did one last happy bounce before settling into the contraption and the door swung open. Emlygil had the disgusting urge to smile. She bit down hard on her lip.

“Wonderful. This should lead us to the upper chambers, where we can free the bell. There’s someone I’d like to consult with on the way.”

They journeyed through the endless grey and green expanse of the Necropolis, this place was so drab, so cold, so miserable. How she longed for the golden warmth and beauty of Arlathan.

“I hope we can help here, Professor.” Bellara broke the silence.

“You already have Bellara, and it’s just Emmrich, please.”

“Right, Professor.” Emlygil could not suppress the small wry smile that played in her lips.

Emmrich chose not to politely remind her and continued, “I assume your visit has to do with recent upheavals we’ve sensed in the fade.”

“Oh just a little!”

They continued to make their way through the halls, fighting and defeating all manner or undead and demons. They soon came to another large cavernous room holding little more than some braziers and a single stone plinth in the centre of a raised platform. The plinth housed a skeleton.

“Ah here we are. This is where we’ll learn who summoned these despair spirits.”

Emmrich announced.

“How?” Emlygil did not like where this was heading.

“You must open yourself to possibilities while in the Necropolis.” Emmrich had no way of knowing that of all people, Emlygil was the last person who ever wanted to consider such a thing.

He asked them to light the braziers dotted around the room. Once that was done the central platform erupted in green flame. Emlygil barely concealed her yelp with a cough.

“This should unseal our final path to the bell. It’s best we unchain it quickly. Any malicious spirit that hears the tolling of the bell will be banished to the fade. Approach the body and we’ll begin.”

Emlygil stayed on the very edge of the platform and observed from afar. Bellara stepped up to the plinth, enraptured by what was about to happen. Emmrich raised his hands over the body and started to draw symbols in the air.

“By seal and flame. Who brought despair within our midst?”

Emlygil was horrified when the body started to jerk and groan. He was controlling the dead, like any necromancer, but Emlygil’s mind flashed to when her parents were being controlled - as if they were no more than mere puppets to be toyed with and have their strings cut, whenever they ceased to be entertaining. And here Emmrich was, doing the same but so effortlessly. How many times had he manipulated and tortured an unwilling host? Emmrich asked the same question again, more forcefully and eventually the corpse gasped out a single word.

“Venatori.”

The connection was broken and a wisp emerged from the skeleton flying towards the locked door on the other side of the room.

“What did you just do?” Emlygil breathed. Emmrich glanced over at her and once again was struck by the deluge of emotion she exhibited. Not in her face, she was obviously practiced in making sure to school her face into hard lines and edges, brows arched, jaw clenched, exhaling slowly through her nose, measured and deliberate. But her eyes, those beautiful, severe eyes, unfortunately gave away the fact she was experiencing several emotions at once. Each battling to win out.

She looked equal parts fascinated, disgusted, horrified…Emmrich forgot how often necromancy was vilified outside of Nevarra. Nowadays he was so used to his own company or the company of fellow Mourn Watchers, he needed to find a way of talking about his life’s work without making it look and sound so sinister.

“It’s known colloquially as ‘corpse whispering’.” He was aware that probably wasn’t helpful, in sounding less sinister. “A gift that manifested with my magic.”

“Oh wow. That’s amazing!” Bellara gushed.

“Honestly I have no idea how the other Watchers navigate the Necropolis without it!” He glanced back to give Emlygil, what he hoped was, a reassuring smile. She nodded tightly but joined them in the next room. After clearing out the Venatori that had sequestered themselves within the Necropolis, they came across a slave that had been dragged there to act as a sacrifice.

“You are in Nevarra, sir. There are no slaves on our soil. Please remain here after we’ve seen to the Venatori, I’ll send for someone to escort you above.”

At least that was one thing Emlygil could accredit Nevarra for. No slavery. What a pathetically low bar to pass muster.

“They really brought that man down here just to die?” Bellara asked, disbelieving.

“The Watchers will shelter him. We’ll enquire if he has any family in Minrathous. As for the Venatori, what remains of them will be put to work.” Emlygil could almost concede that her initial distrust had been unwarranted, until that last sentence.

They pressed on breaking the Venatori chains holding the bell in place, as well as defeating any remaining Venatori cultists then descended back down to the lower level so Emmrich could wake the bell.

“Be ready, the ritual to wake the bell will draw despairs’ attention. I’ll need you two to keep them occupied while I work.”

Emlygil once again watched Emmrich wave his hands, green threads of magic weaving around his fingers as he performed the incantation needed. There was a resounding clang of the bell and a moment of silence.

Before all of the hells were unleashed.

Venatori and demons and possessed skeletons invaded the Belfry, angry and hungry for blood. It was an onslaught. Emlygil was too overrun to even consider fear. It was fight or die. It seemed it would never end until Bellara shouted over the clash of violence.

“Rage demon!”

Emlygil spotted the fiery glow from the other end of the arena and in the blink of an eye it was already upon her and swinging her out of the way. She quickly scrambled up and concentrated her efforts on it. The rage demon jumped into the air and started to launch waves of fire in every direction, pulsing out of them endlessly. Dashing behind a collapsed pillar for cover she caught eyes with Emmrich whose eyes were frantically flicking between her and the bell above.

“How much longer, necromancer?” She yelled and ducked lower as she felt the heat of the flames start to lick at her head. Emmrich looked up one last time and his grim expression was replaced with one of relief.

“Now the Grand Necropolis shows itself!”

The bell reverberated throughout the halls and instantly every unwanted visitor disappeared into the air. No one dared move for a moment, seemingly unsure if this was all a big trick before Emlygil emerged from cover to see the Belfry as if nothing had ever occurred there.

“Wow. They’ve just gone! Pretty impressive.” Bellara. Ever the cheerleader.

“Thank you, but come let’s ensure these cultists didn’t leave anything dangerous behind.”

Emlygil was going to ensure she made use of the bathhouse she discovered earlier the same day in the lighthouse. She was amazed her legs still had the strength to hold her up.

“Oh!” Bellara had obviously found something. She sounded intrigued, then confused then disturbed. “It’s a…severed hand. Oh! It’s moving!”

“It can’t be. A Hand of Glory?” Emmrich rushed over the examine the appendage.

“Emlygil are you seeing this?!”

“I can see perfectly well from here, thank you.” She remained rooted the spot, far away from any decapitated body parts.

“The Venatori should never have this. I must find out where it came from.” After putting it safely away he turned back to the Elven women. “Let me know when you’d like to return to the chambers above.”

“Now.” Emlygil said a bit too quickly.

“You can tell me why you’ve sought out a fade expert on the way?”

When they reached the surface again, Emlygil could feel the change in the atmosphere. It was still oppressive, as was the Necropolis’ way, but the air was far less thick and heavy, bearing the weight of time and decay. She was, perhaps appropriately, dead on her feet and it took every ounce of her willpower and training not to slouch or break from her perfect posture in any way. Lady Myrna and Vorgoth were there to greet them as they arrived. She let Bellara do the talking once again as, Emlygil maintained a respectful distance.

“I know it’s a lot, but I swear we’ve seen the blighted Elven gods ourselves.”

“It would explain recent oneiric disruptions.” Myrna said.

“At the least. The implications of what Bellara and Emlygil have seen are-“ just then a skeleton approached, with green sparkling gems for eyes holding a tea tray aloft. “Ah thank you Manfred!”

Bellara gasped “Aw! He’s so cute!”

“My assistant Manfred.” Emmrich introduced “Always thoughtful!”

“YOU SPOKE OF DANGER TO THE FADE.”

“The Elven gods plan to tear it open to get to the blight.” Emlygil tried to surmise as succinctly as she could.

“They’ve already messed with it.” Bellara added. “Demons, tears in reality. Our team needs a fade expert, wouldn’t you agree, Emlygil?”

She felt all five pairs of eyes on her. Why was she being asked her opinion? If she had any choice, they never would have come to the Necropolis, but the facts were laid out before them and could not be ignored. To have any sort of a chance a fade expert was needed. Apparently this necromancer was the best option they had.

“Yes.” She said through barely gritted teeth.

“Many Watchers never depart Nevarra, but with events so dire-“

“I’d be delighted to assist!” Emmrich jumped in.

“IT HAS BEEN MANY YEARS SINCE YOU LEFT US.”

“Well yes…” Emlygil could hear the anxiety creep in, but it was quickly pushed aside “But Elven gods? Ancient magic? I couldn’t bear miss this! Besides, I’ve spent my life exploring the fade and speaking to spirits. If these ladies need a fade expert, none are better qualified than I.”

Everyone once again turned to her. She wasn’t sure when she had become the groups’ de facto leader, but it was not something she was comfortable with.

“Alright.” She confirmed, trying not to sound reluctant.

“Wonderful! I’ll gather my things! Come, Manfred.” The skeleton gave an excited hiss as he left with Emmrich.

______

The second Emlygil locked her door in her room at the lighthouse she collapsed on her bed out of the corner of her eye she could see that a bathtub and privacy screen had materialised in a previously empty corner, but she didn’t have the strength to even remove her cloak. She was asleep before she could untie the clasp.

She awoke what felt like a lifetime later, but in reality was late afternoon. She had never previously needed to do more than meditate for feel rested now she was sleeping during the day, like she was some lowly mortal. She’d had enough self loathing for one day. She sat up and felt every bone in her body crack, every sinew cry out in agony. She really needed that bath, she looked over and the tub was lightly steaming with fresh, hot water, as if it had just been filled. She allowed herself a self-indulgent smile.

Gods, how she loved the lighthouse.

She was about to strip down when she heard voices coming from her walls. Confused she pressed her ear to the wall and heard the unmistakable sound of Bellara chattering away. As far as she was aware the room was unoccupied and Bellara had expressed no desire to change rooms. Then she heard another deeper voice. Emmrich’s. The necromancer.

Was his room next to hers?

Gods, how she hated the lighthouse.

She supposed he was moving in his essentials and settling in. As ‘leader’ she should make an appearance. She went to her vanity and starting fixing her updo. She redid the many braids, then went about carefully interweaving them and arranging them in a pinned low bun, allowing a few wisps of hair to softly frame her face.

Why are you redoing your hair? Are you trying to seduce him? Traitor. Whore.

She slammed her hand down in the mirrored surface, the objects on the vanity toppling and clattering noisily around her. She could not understand where these voices had come from, why they were so vile. She met her own reflection and tried to breathe calmly.

She had to see him. She had to fix it.

She had shown him her fear.

No. Worse. She had shown him her terror and she needed to correct it. She needed to fix it. She needed to show him he had no power over her. She needed-

“Stop. Just stop.” She said quietly to her reflection. “Don’t let them know you. Don’t let them see you. Gain their trust, but not their sympathy. You do not need them. You have-“

But what did she have, truly?

She took a final shuddering breath and locked that question away. What good would it do to dwell?

She changed out of her ripped clothes and into a simple, ugly, dress of linen. The skirt finishing at the ankles with long fitted sleeves secured with ties at the wrists and lace at the waist. She looked like a pauper’s daughter.

Whereas now, you are nobody’s daughter.

She gave her reflection one last glare before unlocking the door and slowly approaching the necromancer’s room.

______

Emmrich took great joy in watching students learn. Voracity for learning was surprisingly rare, in his experience. So watching Bellara scan his shelves and looking for things to comment or ask questions on was wonderful to see. In truth Bellara was probably the most inquisitive student he’d seen in years and she wasn’t even his student.

“A third edition of the ‘Unnamable Elements’? I didn’t even know it had editions!”

“Oh it’s much improved with the index, please borrow it if you would like.”

“Really? I’d love to I - oh Emlygil! You probably wanted to say hi, thanks Professor!” She took the book off the shelf and quickly ducked out of the room.

Emlygil took in her surroundings. It seemed he mostly brought books and…more books.

“You’ve settled in well, I hope?” She was trying to sound casual, but sounded even more strangled. She was too close to him, she should have stayed by the doorway.

“Oh yes, Manfred was a great help with the boxes.” He smiled over at Manfred who was currently unpacking, yet another box of books and he turned his gaze back to Emlygil.

She had changed out of her torn and bloody clothes into a simple linen dress and had redone her hair, deceptively intricate braids neatly tucked away into a bun.

But by the Maker, she was breathtaking. The soft glow of the many candles he’d lit had created a warm halo around her. He watched her as her eyes darted to Manfred and then the floor. She’d obviously come to say something but had lost her nerve. He hated that there was something about him that was causing her discomfort. He gently tried to coax some conversation out of her by commenting on how fascinating the lighthouse was and asking what she thought about it.

She met his eye all too briefly. To drown in the sea of those eyes would be a welcome death.

“I have found it will always provide you with what you need. I believe it is attuned to our needs, our sensitivities, our wants. Although you would be more knowledgeable about this place, I’m sure. Have you had the tour?”

“Oh I’ve been exploring but-I noticed a few of the others taken aback by Manfred and I overheard remarks about my skulls. My necromancy won’t cause any undue worry, will it?”

There was that look again. She stared at him as though she were a halla and he was a hunter she had just caught sight of. Unsure of where to escape to.

“I-“ she started.

“I know necromancy is often considered dark and evil to people outside Nevarra, but I wanted to reassure you that performed with care, necromancy is no more harmful than any other magecraft.”

He saw her face go slack and her eyes go glassy, before she said quietly.

“As you say, Professor.” She continued staring at a random spot on the floor.

“Emlygil?” He stepped forward and it was as if she was shaken out of something. She looked up at him and cleared her throat.

“Everyone is still getting used to each other, I’m sure things will acclimatise soon.” She stepped back and with a final tight smile turned and walked swiftly to leave him to his unpacking only to turn back once she reached the doorway.

“I- I wanted to say.” She worried her lip before finally meeting his eye again. “Thank you. You- you saved my life today and I repaid your kindness by attempting to kill you,”

“Oh, my dear, there really is no need to thank me, I can only apologise for putting you in that situation to start with, and you and Bellara were such a great help today restoring peace and order to the Shrouded Halls.”

“Nevertheless-“ she sharply inhaled “I am in your debt. Please do avail me of my services, whenever you have need.” She seemed pained to say the words. Before he could object or argue about its non-necessity she gave a small bow and left his room.

Emmrich stared at the spot she had just left in bewilderment. He resolved he would figure out a way to introduce necromancy to her in a way that would show her the beautiful side of death, so that she might hope to understand why he had dedicated his life to the craft.

She herself though, like many people, seemed multifaceted and complex. There was a darkness and a great sense of pain draped heavily around her. Carefully hidden away, but just barely glimpsed through the minuscule cracks of her armour.

He went back to unpacking but couldn’t help but think.

What a peculiar, mystifying but wonderful creature she is…

#fanfiction #datv emmrich #emmrich romance #da4 emmrich #emmerich volkarin #emmrook #emmerich dragon age #emmrich the necromancer #emmrich x rook #dragon age emmrich #emmrich volkarin #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age #dungeons and dragons

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mybeingthere · 2 years ago

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Finnish textile designer and pioneer of fibre art Kirsti Rantanen (born 1930). She has taught a whole

generation of textile designers and artists, and her own work has been of trailblazing importance. In the 1970s, her expression moved from two-dimensional figurative wall hangings

towards three-dimensional sculptural work which grew in the 1980s into monumental entities and installation. In the 1980s, Rantanen was involved in raising the status of textile art,

dominated by women, to an equal standing alongside other genres. She has set an example to younger generations in many respects. Natural materials and the age-old techniques

of weaving are combined in Rantanen’s works. (Design Museum, Helsinki).

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ratjerma · 2 years ago

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Oh no

✨ *this is a sideblog- my main which i have no choice but to interact from is more furry and Doom centric </3* call me whatever. i’m way over 18 (minors please don’t follow!) and from outside the US. i usually am not so quick to bring this up, but it’s true so i’ll say it: mental illness plays a big part in my jerm-liking status. will elaborate if asked. i’m one a these 🏳️‍🌈 and pronouns are unimportant to me. (use any and all!)

✨ i do traditional art and fibre crafts, which is what i’d like to share most here. i live for making things for others, and i like all kinds of requests :) i’ve done this for a very long time but i’m no Michelangelo, Leonardo, or Da Vinci. due to mental problems i haven’t been having a good time with art but yknow what? jermy is actually helping with that :)).

✨ aside from jerm i am most autistic about Doom (1993/4), and i like furry adjacent things, and horrible music (mostly different metals and assorted electronic noises).

✨ just because it’s funny, here’s a quick look at how my own personal jerm liker timeline goes:

sometime in i think 2021: “omg this guy is everywhere 🙄 his hair looks permanently in the ‘awkward growing it out’ stage he looks stupid” -> “oh he was a substitute teacher? well that’s cool and he’s good at making weird noises just like me? cheers bro I can drink to that” -> “you did not need to make such intense eye contact with me while eating that burger… oh no… 😳” -> “i keep watching compilations of him on youtube and he’s exactly my stupid sense of humour it’s weirdly comforting to take my mind off things and put them on before bed… WAIT WHAT WHAT’S HAPPENING I DIDN’T MEAN TO HAVE DREAMS WITH YOU IN THEM I-” -> *makes this sideblog after drawing my first fanart of him* -> the next stage? who knows! i’ll probably learn how to use twitch and join him and his perfectly crazed chat people there. i’m joining you guys here for now. :)

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denimbex1986 · 2 years ago

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'Peaky Blinders was conjured out of stories its creator Steven Knight was told as a child. Larger-than-life images from his parents’ Birmingham families had been burnt onto his nine-year-old mind. A mountain of silver coins piled on a table in a shabby terraced house. Bare-knuckle boxers bound at the wrists and pushed into the canal for losing a fight. Gypsy horse fairs. Barefoot children running messages for illegal bookmakers. A pub called The Chain whose only drinkers were factory women who’d beat any man who dared enter. And immaculately dressed gang members who’d swapped the mud of their WWI uniforms for crisp creases and sharp tailoring. It was all magic and glamour, to the mind of a child.

That was how Peaky Blinders chose to present the past on screen – as somewhere heightened, glamorous and now. It wanted to evoke in its viewer the awe of a kid marvelling at unforgettable things. Forget the drudgery of realism, the show’s 1920s Birmingham would be a place where fairy tale kings and queens walked through fiery streets, towered over by pulsating industry and non-stop newness. For once on screen, the British working classes wouldn’t be drab and pitiful, they’d be mythic and cool. As Knight told Den of Geek, “let’s do legends.”

One detail from Knight’s childhood legends, as reported in GQ Magazine, was his father’s memory of seeing the real Peaky Blinders gang dressed to the nines. “Every crease as sharp as the razors in their hats, reflections in their toe caps, dicky bows and ties pulled tight on studded collars.”

Everything about the men projected wealth and status, Knight’s dad told him… apart from the glasses from which they were drinking. These expensively dressed gangsters were knocking back whiskey not from pricey crystal, but recycled jam jars. Knight explains: “The money was in the fibre and the leather of their clothes, in their grooming and their guns. Not a penny of that fortune would be spent on anything so mundane as kitchenware.”

You might say that approach to priorities was shared by Peaky Blinders the show. When it arrived in 2012, what counted was the first impression. The look – as designed by series one director Otto Bathurst and his art teams – was the thing. Forget the mundane, it was all about impact.

No Hovis-Ad Nostalgia

Impact was unarguably made by Peaky Blinders‘ opening sequence, in which Cillian Murphy’s character rides on horseback through the gristly, teeming streets of Birmingham’s Small Heath. Filmed as one long, continuous shot, it introduces Tommy Shelby as a feared and respected local king, the protagonist in a British Western. Just as importantly, it also introduces Peaky Blinders as not-your-average-period-drama. Don’t expect the grateful poor, the kindly gentry and Hovis-ad nostalgia. This place is alive with modernity.

You only have to look at the skyline to see that. Instead of the CGI set extension faithfully recreating what real canal-side inner city Birmingham would have looked like with an historian’s accuracy, director Bathurst chose impact. Bigger. Higher. More impressive. His reference points weren’t archive maps, but Blade Runner and Judge Dredd’s Mega-City One.

Like the gang members drinking from jam jars, the creators of Peaky Blinders faced the question of where best to use their money. As producer Jamie Glazebrook confirms here, in 2012, Peaky Blinders had a budget of around £7.5 million for the entire first series, a snip compared to Game of Thrones $60 million first season, and The Rings of Power’s $450 million season one price tag. Achieving the cinematic look sought by Otto Bathurst and Director of Photography George Steel – both of whom won Baftas for their work on the first series – with a BBC Two purse, would mean sacrificing some things in favour of others.

That opening sequence, DoP George Steel told this Esquire Oral History, sucked up an inordinate amount of Peaky Blinders‘ cash. “We spent all our special equipment budget was spent on that first shot, with the horse and the Russian arm [a crane camera mounted on a car],” says Steel. “Otto was adamant that we shoot it all as one shot and the only way that we could really do it was on a Russian arm, which is £10,000 a day.”

“After that we ended up with very rudimentary equipment, which is why a lot of it looks the way it looks. It has that slightly old fashioned feel, because we didn’t have the money to whizz around on technocranes.”

Location manager Andy Morgan backs Steel up. “The budget for Peaky had pretty much been spent halfway through the series.” Producer Jamie Glazebrook told The BBC Academy Podcast in the early days, “There was a terrible point at the end of the first series where every scene, we kept on saying ‘we can’t do this location, could this happen in the Garrison Pub?’ and Steve [Knight] was like, ‘This is going to become like Coronation Street soon, everything going back to the Garrison!'”

Sometimes, Glazebrook continues, necessity was the mother of invention. At the climax of series one, Knight had written a big action set-piece between the Peaky Blinders and racecourse king Billy Kimber’s gang. “There was going to be a huge gun fight and we just didn’t think we were going to be able to achieve it. Rather than do things in a half-arsed way, it’s better to do fewer things really well than to do lots of stuff badly, so we said to Steve we don’t think was can have a huge gun fight.”

As a solution, Knight wrote the gun fight to the point that both sides were lined up, facing each other and armed, and then – a classic Peaky Blinders twist. Sophie Rundle‘s character Ada Shelby, dressed in widow’s weeds, pushes a baby carriage right into the no-man’s land between the two sides and tells the boys to shut up and listen. They were all in France, they know what happens next, they all know who’ll wear black for them. Fight if they want to, says Ada, but her baby isn’t moving and neither is she. It’s a brilliant dramatic moment, and a better surprise than any expensive action scene could ever have been.

Enter: Tommy Shelby

The opening shot that took such a big chunk out of the first series budget was only four minutes long, but its legacy is inestimable. It’s a masterclass in world-building, and a fitting introduction to a series that would become, without overstatement, iconic.

The opening words spoken on Peaky Blinders aren’t in English, but Cantonese. There’s a panicked exchange among members of a Chinese community. A girl has been summoned, and nobody seems to want to keep the summoner waiting. As Steven Knight’s stage directions say “We might think we are in Shanghai until we see a caption…. BIRMINGHAM, ENGLAND, 1919.”

The first we see of the man on the horse is the shine on his boot, the neat, clean cut of his suit and his closely shaved hair under a Stetson Hatteras flat cap. Women and children scatter as he rides bareback into a slum and stops to pay the Chinese fortune teller in pound notes. The girl performs “the powder trick”, whispering an incantation and blowing a cloud of red dust into the air. It’s a spell to make the horse win a race, whispers a watching kid in awe. “The horse’s name is Monaghan Boy,” says Tommy Shelby, “Kempton 3 o clock Monday. You ladies have a bet yourselves but don’t tell anybody else.” Profitable bookies’ wildfire rumour thus begun, he rides on.

Tommy rides to the opening bars of Nick Cave’s “Red Right Hand” – a song from 75 years further down the century – past iron barges, through a pile of a city, layered and growing, dressed in smoke and fire. He turns down Garrison Lane, its spill of people parting around him. A Jamaican street preacher touches the rim of his hat as Tommy passes, men drink and gamble outside a pub, a trio of blind war veterans troop past and he puts coins in their cup, kids dart around, fires belch, sacks are hauled, locals square up to each other, and two policeman tip their hats in salute with a “Morning Mr Shelby.”

Finally, we see the rider’s face in profile as Nick Cave’s song tells us “He’s a ghost, he’s a god, he’s a man, he’s a guru. You’re one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan, designed and directed by his red right hand.” A tubular bell clangs, and Peaky Blinders begins. Out of pocket, maybe, but never out of ideas, and never looking back.'

#Peaky Blinders #Tommy Shelby #Nick Cave #“Red Right Hand”#Steven Knight #Cillian Murphy #Jamie Glazebrook #Birmingham #Small Heath #Otto Bathurst #George Steel #Sophie Rundle #Ada Shelby #Billy Kimber #Monaghan Boy

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abortionpilled · 2 years ago

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Sage, aloe Vera, and jasmine! :)

yaaaaay

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

either music or fibre arts i think. music can really reach into your soul and pull out your essence. also it fucks. im in awe of fibre arts though. something about the time dedicated to perfecting stitches and the love put into every piece.

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

idk if it counts as mundane but i really do wanna have a wedding that i love and enjoy and look back on for years. romantic love has always been so important to me and i love the idea of having a party for to celebrate ur love

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

h*rry p*tter. my aunt brother and i all used to read them at the same time and together. i thought the world was fun as a kid. but jk rowling is such a piece of shit and looking back they werent as good as i thought they had been. so i never really want to interact with it again.

#inbox #higurashiwhentheycryhou #thank u for sending somethign :-)

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stoneartwala · 4 months ago

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#garden art statue #fibre statue art #Kinetic sculpture design

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thestonestudiosculpture · 2 years ago

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The material used in it is fibre. Our best artisans wonderfully craft this sculpture.

To know more about the product: https://www.thestonestudio.in/product/head-pop-art-statue/ To check our website: www.thestonestudio.in Phone No: +91-7008222943 Email Id: [email protected]

#sculpture #art #home decor #interior design #exterior #garden decor #pop art #pop art head statue #fibre art #fibre sculpture

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glowinflatables · 1 month ago

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London’s iconic West End has been transformed into a free cosmic playground as part of the Art After Dark event curated by acclaimed artist Nelly Ben Hayoun-Stepanian. At Glow Inflatables Ltd, we were thrilled to work with Nelly Ben again and play a vibrant role in this extraordinary event, showcasing our innovative inflatable creations across two of London’s most famous landmarks—Piccadilly Circus and Leicester Square. Visitors were transported to another world as they encountered our 13-meter Inflatable Slime Moonbounce, designed to replicate the rugged, extra-terrestrial beauty of space rocks. This colossal collection of LED-illuminated inflatables wound their way around the famous statue of Eros in Piccadilly Circus. The dynamic cosmic lighting transformed the bustling heart of London into a scene straight out of a sci-fi dream. Over in Leicester Square, our inflatable artistry continued with two towering five-metre neon inflatables of Schrodinger’s Cats with fibre optic whiskers. These playful yet thought-provoking creations invited viewers to engage with the famous quantum mechanics thought experiment, all while bathed in soft, ambient light. The cats’ enigmatic expressions and luminous details sparked curiosity and conversation among passersby. Our larger-than-life Poison Bottle and Hammer installation, crafted with UV-reactive PVC was enhanced by UV lighting and delivered a splash of the surreal. The vibrant colours and eerie glow added an edgy, mystical element to the overall experience, capturing the attention of all who saw them. Glow Inflatables are immensely proud to collaborate for a third time with Nelly Ben Hayoun-Stepanian once again and bring her amazing ideas to life for Art After Dark. Read the full article

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willbillrug · 3 months ago

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The Allure of Persian Rugs in Sydney: Crafting, Culture, and Décor at Home

Persian rugs have been widely used around the world. Their extensive designs and richness of cultures are the very reasons most people love these pieces to add to their home design. These great pieces not only cover floors but express history and a tale about craft and traditions. Recent studies show increased interest in Sydney people wanting to utilise these classic pieces to adorn homes. This piece looks into the appeal, craftsmanship, and availability of Persian rugs in Sydney.

The rich history of Persian rugs:

The art of Persian rug weaving has existed for thousands of years, dating back to

ancient Persia, which is now Iran.

Over time, the rugs have reflected the different cultures and artistic expressions of the regions in which they were made.

In Iranian culture, Persian rugs are of great value, often signifying status and wealth. In addition to their aesthetic appeal, these rugs are also investments, as some pieces increase in value over time.

Characteristics of Persian Rugs:

What distinguishes Persian rugs is their exclusive materials and weaving techniques. Traditionally made from wool, silk, or a combination of both, each rug is a testament to the skill of the artisan through intricate patterns and designs.

From floral motifs to geometric shapes, the variety is vast, ranging from traditional styles that echo historical significance to contemporary interpretations that fit modern aesthetics.

This versatility makes Persian rugs suitable for various interior design themes.

The Market for Persian Rugs in Sydney:

Sydney features a colourful market of Persian rugs where many local merchants deal in Persian rugs.

For instance, Bijan Rugs and Persian Rug Co. showcase vast collections suited to taste and pocket size.

Internet sites also bring the great scope of authentic Persian rugs into the homes with ease so that the client can select from his living room without venturing out.

The interest in interior design and home décor in Sydney is increasing, making Persian rugs more in demand. It is now well appreciated how the artisanal craftsmanship is unique and unique in their character. So this has led retailers to ensure authenticity and quality in whatever they sell.

Care and Maintenance of Persian Rugs:

To maintain the long life of Persian rugs, proper care is essential. Regular vacuuming and immediate attention to spills can keep them looking beautiful.

A professional cleaning every few years will preserve the integrity of the fibres and colours.

Misconceptions about maintenance lead to neglect; it is crucial for any owner to understand how to care for these valuable pieces.

Conclusion

Beyond ornate decorative items, Persian rugs in sydney carry rich cultural heritage as well as remarkable craftsmanship, able to take home décor levels up. The growing attention to timeless pieces in the city of Sydney makes it imperative to consider their addition to the residing places. Having such magnificent beauty and distinctive stories makes Persian rugs stand as strong as time passes, which are perfect elements for a house that tends to balance elegance with relevance.

#Persian rugs in sydney

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soniaonia · 4 months ago

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The Rise of Smart Clothing: Fashion Meets Technology

In today's rapidly evolving world, technology continues to make its mark on various industries, fashion among them. Among the most exciting developments of the last few years is that of smart clothing, a product that integrates technology with seamless elegance into garments that change them from mere wearables to functional, interactive devices. Such a fusion of fashion and technology promises to revolutionise not just how we dress but how we experience clothing itself.

Introduction to Fashion and Its Significance

Fashion has always been an essential part of human culture. It goes beyond just clothing; it’s a medium for self-expression, a way to communicate one’s personality, and a tool to convey status, identity, and creativity. Whether it’s the simplicity of a classic black dress or the boldness of streetwear, fashion is an art form that continually evolves with the times.

However, in this century, fashion is not just limited to aesthetics. The development of smart clothing has made it become functional and technological as well. What was possible regarding fashion and technology no longer holds; what appeared science fiction has now come true. Smart clothing is going to open a future that can't be waited for.

How to Cultivate Smart Clothing

It's no passing fancy; smart clothing has been built on years of research and innovation. In fact, smart clothing is rooted in the basic technology of adding technology to fabric. For example, putting sensors, conductive threads, microchips, or other electronic components into fabric enables clothes to communicate with wearers and their surroundings or even connect with other devices.

Smart clothing involves research into materials that will suit the integration of technology best. Traditional fabrics such as cotton and polyester are now being reimagined in terms of conductive fibres and sensors that can track various aspects of the wearer's body, including heart rate, body temperature, or even stress levels. The fabrics may also adjust to environmental changes, such as regulating heat in cold weather or providing cooling effects in hot conditions.

Once the technology is put into the fabric, manufacturers focus on keeping the garment comfortable, stylish, and practical for everyday use. This requires collaboration between the fashion designer, textile manufacturers, and technology experts to be able to produce clothes that are not only functional but also wearable and aesthetically pleasing.

How Current Fashion Complements Future Clothing Trends

Current fashion trends are already beginning to complement the rise of smart clothing. In many ways, smart clothing is a natural evolution of fashion as we know it. While the focus of traditional fashion has been on aesthetics, the future of clothing will incorporate not just looks but also functionality.

2023 saw one of the biggest innovations in activewear, with brands such as Under Armour and Nike having smart fabrics integrated into their workout clothes. The ability to integrate technology in developing clothes that track performance or monitor the vital signs during workouts has seen brands embrace it so much. Technology and fashion fusions will be at the heart of future trends, with garments being developed for the tech-savvy, modern consumer.

Future styles of dressing will be more personalised and adaptive. Imagine clothes that can change colour, fit, or function according to the person's preference, body type, or even mood. With advanced algorithms, smart clothes will automatically adjust to changing conditions such as temperature or humidity. For instance, a shirt may warm up if it is a cold day or cool down if the weather becomes too hot for the wearer.

Moreover, the role of ladies readymade garments and in contemporary fashion is also changing. Since smart clothing is becoming very popular, these garments are going to be integrated with wearable technology in a manner that makes them more comfortable or healthy or provides other useful functionality. For example, the Kurti exporter will soon start offering designs that come with health monitoring features or temperature-regulating fabrics and redefine how women approach everyday clothes.

How Smart Clothing Innovations Are Changing the Future of Fashion and Technology

Smart clothing is an indicator of a more dynamic, personalised, and efficient future to come in the world of fashion. The more the word gets connected, the further wearable technology will rise to demand. In fact, such clothing might soon become typical, as most garments offer now commonplace features, like being able to track one's fitness or even a means of recharging a mobile telephone.

Smart clothing is also expected to revolutionise industries beyond the fashion world. The health sector is one area where smart garments will bring in significant changes. For instance, garments that track vital signs such as heart rate, respiration, and blood pressure may help detect medical problems at an early stage, potentially saving lives. Such garments can also provide real-time feedback to healthcare providers to monitor and care for patients from remote locations.

From the sustainability perspective, smart clothing may also minimise fashion industry waste. It is now possible for clothes to adjust to conditions; hence, it may decrease purchases of various items for a certain season. Furthermore, some smart fabrics can resist stains and self-clean, and the need for frequent washing of garments may drastically decrease, and both water and energy consumption may be conserved.

Overall, the smart attire is the turning point of clothing and technology, making our closets more intelligent, sustainable, and personal than ever in the future.

(FAQs)

Q1: What does smart clothing mean?

Smart clothes are clothing that have infused technology like sensors or a microchip to enhance functionalities. The clothes may log health-related metrics, automatically change due to environmental conditions, or even respond to other devices.

Q2: How does smart clothing work?

Smart clothing works by embedding sensors and electronics into the fabric. These can monitor vital signs, control temperature, or send data to an external device like a smartphone.

Q3: Is smart clothing comfortable to wear?

Yes, smart clothing is designed to be as comfortable as traditional clothing. While it integrates technology, designers work to ensure that the clothes are breathable, lightweight, and easy to wear.

Q4: Can smart clothing be washed?

Most smart clothing is machine washable, but the manufacturer's instructions for care should be followed to ensure that the functionality of the embedded electronics is preserved.

Q5: Will smart clothing be affordable?

As technology advances and production scales, the cost of smart clothing is expected to become more affordable. Some smart garments can be pricey, but prices are likely to drop as the market grows.

Author

Sonia is a professional blogger with extensive knowledge in various fields such as travel, media, B2B, business, health and fitness, agriculture, and fashion. She enjoys writing engaging content that informs and inspires readers. Through her blogs, Sonia shares her insights on the latest trends, innovations, and developments that shape different industries. When she's not blogging, she loves exploring new technologies and their impact on everyday life.

https://www.globalb2bmart.com/clothing-apparel-suppliers

Kurti exporter, ladies readymade garments

#Kurti exporter #ladies readymade garments

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