#gentapprentices week

[otheliame]

Day 4: “A Man In Love”

thank you @gentapprentices for such a fun week so far!! im loving seeing everyone’s masc folks having a fun time!

I actually wrote a fic on this, Shift about my apprentice Jamie coming to Vesuvia and meeting Asra for the first time, and then later Nadia, Muriel, and Lucio before the Plague. It’s stinking cute, and here’s a little segment from the first chapter, the Magician, when the fated two meet in the most cliche of circumstances. It’s written from 1rst person POV, 9 years before the canon.

The sun glimmers brightly overhead as I make my way down the crowded streets, weaving between shoppers while keeping close to the fringes of the walkways. I cusp around the edges of the multicolored stalls to avoid the majority of foot traffic, but it’s proving hard as it’s a particularly busy day in the market, everyone is out and about, not just buying but lingering, talking over each other with excited voices in large clusters spanning the entire street. Something’s happening in Vesuvia today, something special. As much as I’d like to know what that something is, I don’t want to get caught up with the crowd… it’s been a long day. 

Today of all days I feel my patience is shorter, Isaac was a bit more of a hardass than usual and it makes the above-average bustle of the street that much more difficult for me to handle, every voice seems to multiply and reverberate in my thoughts like the vibration of insect wings. I’ve lived here for a month now, trying to get by and make a living and it’s been alright thus far, especially since Ksasthra took me in; here is better than there and there was worse than that, so long and so forth, unimportant details now because this is better. Vesuvia is going to be better for me. I can feel it. 

A colorful stream from a showcased scarf plays in front of me on a caught breeze as I try to make my way through the market stalls heading towards the lower district, I have to duck to avoid the hawking shopkeeper so I don’t get drawn into a purchase. Luckily, the multitude of customers I have to dodge and weave to get through keep them busy enough to not pay me the slightest attention. I just finished my shift at the local community theatre, doing basic backstage work for all sorts of performances, and right now I want nothing more than to hide away in my small, shared apartment by the waterfront and rest, especially while the one who agreed to house me, Ksasthra, is still back at the theatre for work until much later. The work I did today wasn’t particularly stressful or anything, but being around my coworkers just made me tired. I still feel like there’s hot breath on the back of my neck wherever I turn, and even now it’s still a hard thought to shake. 

I originally questioned my own decision in living in a city - I’ve never lived in an area with more than a hundred people in a given spot - but at the time I made the choice, I thought I had no choice. There just aren’t any jobs out in the foothills, and I never learned how to live off the land alone. Though, mostly it was the fact that my attempts to blend in or hide in the vast, sparsely populated, wintry lands of the deep northeast proved largely unsuccessful. Soon I had the realization that my best bet of finally being left alone was to find someplace where I could melt into a crowd. And in order to melt, one must first find a crowd, so to the city I had to go. Vesuvia was the largest, farthest city I could’ve gone to without taking a boat, so it was to Vesuvia I went to escape… to escape. It helped as well that the further south I went, the less people’s gazes would cling to my shoulders, which I quite liked. A lot. I’m not sure why though, for I’m certain I stick out like a sore thumb anywhere. Up north it was the… things… I could do. Here it’s the fact that everyone is colorful and loud and I’m not.

I don’t like being around people, usually because people also don’t like to be around me. I’m… weird, for lack of a better word. I have certain… abilities that other people don’t have, and in my experience if you have something that other people don’t they either envy you or fear you, and both of those things are the worst emotions to see on other faces. But here, in a city full of so much vibrant color, varient life, people of a hundred different types… I’m just another uninteresting face. That’s what I wanted when I came here. It’s thoughts like this that keep my grounded when I get too overwhelmed by citylife around here, such as now, when I’m just trying to get home. Before I came to Vesuvia, I would see the amount of people on this street alone over the span of several months. It’s still very… difficult to get used to this new atmosphere, even three months later. Almost to the street corner, almost there, then I’m home free… Maybe I can finally finish that book Ksasthra gave me… 

Suddenly, over the jumbled voices of the shoppers on the street, loud, victorious trumpets resound through the air, stealing all eyes from their tasks to the mouth of the street far down the way. I look up and peer through the heads and shoulders of onlookers to try and see what it is that’s causing such a disturbance before I realize that regardless of whatever it is, this is the perfect opportunity to escape through the crowd to the lower district. Quickly I turn and make my way there, but as I grow close to the corner I realize that whatever is happening is also happening on this end of the street; I see mounted soldiers in gleaming silver armor bearing unfamiliar emblems on tall, colorful standards and shining trumpets, using both of these items to loudly announcing the presence of someone important, someone that I now realize is about to enter this street. 

Other shoppers quickly seem to realize this as well, and like a tidal wave people start to shove others from the middle of the street into the outskirts, pressing shopkeepers back behind their stall counters and pushing everyone in their way into the wooden fixtures. I barely get out of the way just as a burly masculine figure makes his way through but I get caught up in the wave as others start hurrying out of the street’s center, I scurry to keep upright. 

Suddenly I get shoved back by a gaggle of inattentive shoppers trying to get out of the way right as I try to duck between stalls. I trip and lose my footing, I let out an innately sharp cry as fear of being tramped leaps into my throat but before I hit the ground I smash straight through a market stand’s doorway, which was just a wooden bar draped with a velvety, purple cloth hemmed with gold trim. My shoulders smack the cobblestones as a multitude of things fall on me from the counter’s surface, ripped down from when I took the tablecloth with me. I hold up my hands as I’m hit with a waft of rich, heady herbs and dried grasses, then with strange light smacks, like a small stack of papers just fell on me. 

Hands reach under my arms and pull me a little farther backwards into the stall I had fallen into, the touch startles me so much I flinch, making the hands immediately disappear. An intimate voice like honey and wind gasps by my ear over the loud din of the rowdy street, “Are you alright?” 

When the strange hands touch me I snap back to attention and regain my bearings like the flare of a starting fire, I sit up and blink as I try to figure out where I am right when I meet the stranger’s gaze… layers of periwinkle, lavender, and lilac, glimmering like stardust in the evening sunshine. They appear masculine presenting, young like me, definitely not old enough to be considered fully gown, with hazelnut skin that gleams like bronze armor and thick, fluffy, silver-white hair that hangs over those starry eyes in wild, soft curls. Starry they are in more ways than one, because the stranger stares at me with such an awestruck expression I suddenly feel incredibly self conscious half-lying on the floor of their stall - it must be their stall, as they’re the only one behind the counter… The counter I just fell through getting pushed by the crowd. 

“I…! Oh no, I’m so sorry!” I stammer in embarrassment, brushing myself off as I perch my feet in preparation to stand, though as I do I realize I’m covered in all kinds of herbs, dried flowers, and other reagents that I must’ve accidentally taken with me when I ripped this cloth off the counter in my fall. There are also a dozen or more rather beautiful cards scattered on the cobblestones, though they are like no deck of betting cards I’ve ever seen, even at a passing glance and I can tell as such. An array of masks also accompany this strange collection, the first two I see is one that depicts a fox with little ornamental gems hanging from the ears, the other that’s rugged wood configured in a bear’s face with runes carved into its realistically crafted fur. The stranger’s hands linger no longer on but near my shoulders as I pull myself upright, he continues to stare at me with wide, owlish eyes as I speak so fast my words bumble over each other, “I didn’t mean to, that was completely on accident, please forgive me-!” 

“It’s alright!” The boy quickly speaks again with that same gentle, sweet tone, gripping my shoulders to return my gaze to his lavender hues rather than to the cobblestones now littered with his stall’s offerings, and this time I don’t flinch. His lilac eyes flicker across my features then down over my form, checking for injuries as he mutters, “You’re not hurt, are you?” 

I shake my head, kneeling down as I try to gather the fallen reagents and masks onto the purple cloth and recollect the fallen, oriental cards, “I’m fine, I’m fine! I’m so sorry, I should’ve been paying better attention, let me help-” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” His hands, with long dextrous fingers, smooth palms and marble-carved knuckles breach my vision and stall my hands where they are hovering over the cloth, returning my gaze back to his. I start when I feel the sparks under my skin where we touch, but now that I’m paying better attention I realize it’s not simply just me being startled by the touch, but rather it seems to be some sort of… energy… coming from this boy. A deep torrent of something, power, internal lightning, vitality, runs under his palms like I plunged my hands into the rush of a waterfall. 

He smiles at me when I remeet his gaze, a warm and amicable smile that showcases a handsome dimple in his left cheek as he hums, “Really, it’s alright.” 

I let out a slightly relieved breath, and look back down at our conjoined hands over the spilled tablecloth. Does he feel it, too? I’ve never felt someone’s aura so tangibly before- 

I realize this must be strange, how I loiter over his hands, so I quickly clear my throat and pull mine away. “Erm… What do I owe you for your lost goods?” Idly to distract myself from the embarrassment I pick up a small fallen herb between my thumb and forefinger, I think it’s a rose petal as that’s what it smells like, then one of the fallen cards; it depicts a plain with a sun hanging overhead with long, golden beams down onto the grass, a numeral 0 at the bottom to show which way is up or down I suppose. It looks hand painted too, very ornate and intimately crafted, it’s incredibly impressive, did he paint this himself? I hold these two things up with a curious hum, I glance back up at the stranger after a moment and tilt my head to the side,  “What’re you selling, anyway?”

The boy looks at the rose petal in my hand, then at the card, and then back at me with that same owlish look as before right as the air rings with more trumpets, and the crowd just outside of the safe haven of the stall begins to warble. Intrigued, the both of us rise up to look over the counter just in time to see a carriage driving by through the carved path in the streets that the people have rushed to clear. The carriage is richly ornamented, emblazoned with the same colors as the crests the armored knights accompanying it carry, and obviously is not Vesuvian made, drawn by one white, one black horse with thick, luxurious manes. In the open windows the pulled back, rich violet drapes reveal a regal, female presenting person inside. I only get a few seconds to see her through the crowd, though just by her long, royal facial features and her stature alone I know that she must be some sort of powerful noble, most likely from a far away land. 

Once the carriage passes and the knights fall in on her, the crowds bustle and burst with noise, people whisper amongst themselves theories of who this newcomer is. I idly recall that there was supposed to be some big summer festival happening soon, so perhaps she’s here for that. Though, I’m not very keen on politics or current events beyond that a war just ended, so I don’t know much beyond that. And, frankly, it’s a miracle I know that much. The politics of this land are very different than they are back up in the depths of the northeast. There things are… very different. 

In my peripheral I see the stranger moving again, so I turn towards him just as he lifts the herbs, the masks, and the cards, which we had collected onto the fallen tablecloth, back onto the counter. Then he lifts a hidden leather satchel from within the stall’s inner walls and pack them away inside it, slotting the cards carefully in his palm as he goes. The movements of his arms draw my gaze away from his face for the first time and instead to the layers of colorful cloth around his person; his half-buttoned baby blue tunic that reveals his sternum and a little more above a dark magenta scarf with gold fringes that hangs across one of his shoulders and around his neck. He also dons a vibrant pink, blue, and peach overcoat without sleeves covered in radial patterns, and black trousers that his blouse is loosely tucked into. I swear I see something move around his waist beneath his coat but before I get the chance to investigate further he turns in my direction. Beneath his scarf I catch a glimmer of gold, a choker; it’s engraved with waved designs and somewhat blends in with the rich hues of his skin. Below that a turquoise pendant on a leather chord around his neck hangs over the bared part of his chest in a manner that makes it gleam like the depths of the sea in the sunlight. Richly adorned with beautiful baubles, just like everyone in this city, yet somehow… different. Unique. 

Suddenly I realize just where my eyes are lingering so I quickly snap my attention to his face, where it should have been this whole time. As soon as I do he fixes his gaze to mine and speaks in a low hum, “It doesn’t look like anything was damaged, no need to worry.” A sudden, sly smirk slightly plays the edge of his lips as he catches my gaze, I wonder idly if he caught me looking over his form as he adds with a more heartfelt touch, “I’m glad you’re alright.” 

I blink at him in surprise and feel another rush of crimson snaking its way to my face, I have to clear my throat and rein in my thoughts to pull my attention back to the present. “Right! Of course… Yes. I mean, good. That’s good to hear. That nothing was damaged, I mean…” Jamie, please. I glance over at the broken wooden shards on the ground and paw them with my boot as my mouth continues to run, “Not even something for the stall door?”

The amusement in the boy’s eyes lights like sparks flying from a blacksmith’s hammer as he regards me, a small chuckle escapes his lips as he begins to fold the now-empty tablecloth on his now-barren stall. “If you’re truly so troubled…” He pauses as if he’s reconsidering his words but after the moment’s hesitation he continues, his expression morphing from teasing and playful to curious and… hopeful, almost. “I was just going to close up shop anyway to get dinner… I wouldn’t be opposed to company. Would you consider that a form of ‘repayment’?” He says this with a lilt of sly humor, the light of the evening sun making his gaze seem to truly dance with entertainment.

Now, I am no fool, but for a moment he almost had me thinking that I was one, as my mind reeled and somersaulted over itself trying to figure out what he was implying, but once it finally hits me like a clock striking midnight I blink with a stunned hum as I nervously worm my fingertips into the strap of my satchel around my shoulder. “... Oh!” 

The boy’s gaze softens, quickly adding after a moment as he folds his tablecloth in triangles, “Only if you want to, of course. It’s not every day that someone falls into my stall… I simply can’t help but think it’s a sign of some sort. I’d love to know what kind of sign it is by getting to know you a little.” 

I raise an eyebrow at the other in surprise, thumbing my satchel idly as I respond slowly, tasting my words, “A sign?” 

He looks back at me with an amused raise in his lips, and only then do my thoughts suddenly jog and dig into the scene I find myself in. The herbs, the curious, colorful attire, the cards… cards unlike any playing cards I’ve ever seen. “Oh.” I murmur, flickering my gaze back to his bemused expression, “Are you one of those fortune tellers? Do they let you do that so young?”

The boy smiles and chuckles, placing the tablecloth in his satchel before he splays out the cards in his palm before him, I can see him counting them with his thumb as he answers, “I suppose some would call me that. Though I don’t think there’s an age limit on reading cards…” Content with the amount of cards he has, he returns them into a pile and slides them into a hidden pocket in his apparel before his hand sweeps before me and gentle takes up mine, before I can react he brings it to his lips and kisses my knuckles with a gentlemanly bow, I can feel his lips move on my skin when he speaks in a playful hum, “But you may call me Asra.” 

I swallow thick on a sudden knot of roots in my throat, I smile shyly and chuckle as he releases my hand and straightens back upright. Nervously I laugh a little, simply out of nerves because no one has done that to me before. “... Right. Okay, uh… Asra.” 

There’s a beat of silence as Asra the fortune teller regards me with what I think to be an expectant look, after a beat’s pause he tilts his head to the side with a raise in an eyebrow, “And you are?” 

“Oh!” I blink and laugh awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck as I feel the heat return to my cheeks, “Right. Names. Introductions… Er- I’m Jamie.” 

“Jamie.” Asra echoes, nodding in response as he seems to savor the vowels on his tongue before he gives me a soft smile, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

I start slightly when someone jostles the stall, apparently on accident as they were attempting to get by a group of people wagging their jaws. When I look back at Asra I see his gaze is flickering across my features with a pensive expression I’m not quite sure what to do with as he moves like water around me towards the hole in his stall where the latch once was. “Have you ever been to the bakery down the block?” He asks suddenly, pausing in the entrance and looking back at me over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. I shake my head, prompting the fortune teller to smile with genuine amusement as he holds out a hand towards me, an open invitation. 

I hesitate, looking at him then at his hand for a long pause. Of course strangers are never to be trusted, but he is rather visually unassuming in terms of combat skill so I have faith that I can handle myself if this one were to try anything. I have been able to protect myself plenty of times in the past. But paranoia aside, I can’t lie, I am a little intrigued by their… disposition. I do find myself wanting to get to know them better, and this aura of theirs… I simply must know more. And I hadn’t exactly had other plans for the evening… 

This may as well happen. 

I slowly take his hand. 

...

Wanna know what happens next? Keep reading !

[bastart13]

Start of Gentleman Apprentices Week!

Magic Man — What type of magic they specialise in

Tashi’s a tailor, specialising in modifying clothes to his client’s requests. While it can be stadard refitting, he uses his skills in magic and alchemy to add special effects such as heat resistance, colour changing, or even a simple magical shimmer. He’s trained over the years so the effects are potent and long-lasting, and he gets good reviews!

Aside from material magic, he uses it to propel his wheelchair in tough terrains and he has a mental connection with his familiar to the point where they can communicate over distances.

[ame-fanapprentice]

@gentapprentices​ Gentleman Apprentice Week Day 6 

(boy)Friends to Lovers—  how do your apprentice and their LI celebrate their love? 

I wanted to add some other masc apprentices too!!  They’re all really wonderful artists and people and i’m really happy to be able to include them!! ;w;; 

Illian belongs to @lazyvoyager​ Zarco belongs to @apprenticefrombulan Andonis belongs to @idiotwerewolf Tashi belongs to @bastart13 and Kimoni belongs to @emilenn!!

Being akoiromantic, to put it bluntly, sucks. You could want so desperately to be in love with someone.  And, when it seems like the norm to be in a relationship you feel left out.  You just can’t bring yourself to find interest in someone romantically.  Or even worse, when someone you do like comes along, the second you try to commit yourself all of those romantic feelings disappear.   It’s a constant cycle of wanting but being unable to give.

Asra always knew that Desmond can’t express emotions as freely as he could.  But, seeing him cry when he tried to tell Asra how he felt, it just about broke his heart.  For the longest time some part of Desmond kept holding him back from expressing his love for Asra.  The most he could manage were little gestures: not flinching when Asra held his hand, making sure breakfast was always ready for when he woke up, checking up on Asra when he spends hours dozing, etc. The idea of romance was just too daunting, too much to even consider.   

But Asra still loved him.  He still loved the was Desmond would try to hide his smiles.  He loved when he’d catch Desmond nuzzling into the scarf he gave him.  For all his flaws, Asra couldn’t bring himself to love anyone else.   

It took some time to understand but eventually they became unofficial partners.  Every bit of romance that they could comfortably fit into their relationship they did.  And, when it became to much, they took a break to gather their feelings and came back with a clear heart and head.   

Just like Asra’s parents taught him, there’s so much more to love than just romance.  It’s so deep, so complex that it can’t be summarized into just one meaning.  Desmond and Asra might not be able to put it into words either, but they understand that what they have, is just that: Love.

[gentapprentices]

What does your apprentice look like? Show us your references, or click below for recommended masc picrews! 

Please reblog from the original or create a new post to keep this thread from getting too long.

Gentleman Apprentice Week is August 9-15 | More Prompts

https://picrew.me/image_maker/32223

https://picrew.me/image_maker/41153 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/113374 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/242190 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/312072/ 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/378582 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/19573 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/113150 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/36529 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/7376 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/164888

https://picrew.me/image_maker/362394 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/261298 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/51747 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/81574 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/263035 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/21969 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/30042 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/13338 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/362653

https://picrew.me/image_maker/21969

https://picrew.me/image_maker/250891

https://picrew.me/image_maker/163761 

https://picrew.me/image_maker/296093

[devoraqs]

Day Three: For The Boys A Celebration of Your Apprentice’s Friendships

@gentapprentices

Some relationships have their seeds planted decades beforehand, without either even knowing. 

Following on from yesterday’s prompt surrounding backstories, I kept thinking about what Alexander’s friendships were like pre-canon and when he was little, which then made me wonder... what if on his childhood travels he struck up a brief, blithe friendship with someone who would be very important to him later in life? Serendipity indeed!

[ilyamatic]

Day One: Magic Man

Andrico: experienced apothecary, certified potions master, studied chemist. An expert in his own right. But even experts make mistakes.

“Are they even?”

Andrico turned from the mirror and looked to his friend mournfully. Jasna, who had been thumbing through a book, gave him a quick once over. She grimaced.

“No, but eyebrows are sisters, not twins.”

He allowed his head to slump forward in defeat. He had a date tonight and it wouldn’t do to show up eyebrowless. Maybe he could send Ralphie with a note cancelling? He was looking forward to spending some one-on-one time with his boyfriend after a busy week but he had his pride, damn it! No one looked good without eyebrows, great bone structure or not.

Jasna moved from the sofa to kneel in front of him at his vanity. With a quiet ‘let me try’ she wiped off his attempt and grabbed the kohl from his hand.

“How did you even manage to burn off your eyebrows,” she asked as she began to map them out.

“Well, do you remember those potions I’m making for your and Asra’s shop? Well it has fire root in it and fire root degrades rapidly in its raw form, so I decided to refine it.”

Jasna looked up at him with a droll look. “You wanted to refine fire root?”

“Theoretically it should have worked,” he continued. “Fire root tends to run acidic and a simple alkaline should have been enough to make it easier to refine.”

“But…”

“But it seems that fire root is a little more volatile than I anticipated. So when I went to refine it…”

Andrico motioned vaguely to his eyebrows. Jasna sighed but made no further comment. They sat in silence as Jasna continued her work. After a few more minutes, Jasna patted his knee to alert him she was done. Andrico gazed in the mirror to find a far more natural looking brow than the blocks he had drawn on his face earlier.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“No problem, just do us both a favor and stop treating magic like one of your experiments.”

Andrico smiled. “No promises Jasna. After all, magic is just science we haven’t discovered yet.”

[where-the-wind-is]

Saturday August 15th: Day 7 prompt

Dear Husband—your apprentice’s wedding or married life

Weddings have always been a... complicated affair in Ember's eyes. For most of his life he considered weddings to be awful, binding, contractual things that he wanted no part of. It was even worse when it came to marrying back into the royal peerage, Lucio was a Count after all. Lucios first proposal was a very...Lucio way of proposing if you catch my drift. Flowers, people, pressure, and it did not go over well. 

How dare he?

How dare Ember stand in front of everyone and reject Lucio? How dare Ember embarrass him like that?

But Ember had some compelling frustrations as well.

How dare Lucio propose to someone he basically just met? How dare he do it in front of all of Vesuvia? With all that pressure...how could he jump right back into a marriage as if his first one meant nothing?

How could he embarrass Nadia like that?

They'd never fought so bad for so long.

It almost ended them.

Surprisingly it was Lucio who became the bigger person when it came to the prospect of them breaking up over it. He decided as long as Ember was in his life then it didn't matter that Lucio couldn't call him his Viscount.

If a wedding does happen for them, which Ember has grown enough to no longer denounce the possibility of, then it is far in the future. It is after a lot of things have been thought through for both of them. Years of work would be required to reach the level of understanding it would take. Lucio's first marriage was not as ideal as he would've liked, and he is determined to get it right this time.

The day he plans to propose he is wrecked with nervousness. What if they fight again? What if Ember still doesn't want to? All his worries are for not when Ember beats him to the punch the day before he planned the big event.

"You still wanna get married?"

Naturally, Lucio is furious he got one-uped and even more furious that Ember said it so casually...like it meant nothing

Ember explains that his words weren't a proposal, simply the beginning of a discussion. One he might be ready to have.

They speak for a long time, they speak about many things.

And in the end.

They hardly even remembered the ceremony

[theworldinthewheel]

Day 3 Prompt: For the Boys (And Asra)

A celebration of your apprentice’s friendships 

@gentapprentices

Asra - Ihsan considers Asra as someone between little sibling he never had, student, mentor, and good friend. Ihsan met Asra his first day in Vesuvia. Fresh off the boat and with very little time on his hands, Ihsan had been heading to his aunt’s to pay his respects when he came across Asra. The teenager’s magic and control impressed Ihsan and his personality sealed the deal. Ihsan mentioned Asra to his aunt, who would eventually take him on as a shopkeeper. Asra and Ihsan met in the intervening years mostly at Ihsan’s aunt’s biweekly teas. Asra took care of her when she started to sicken and Ihsan would always be grateful. In return, Ihsan passed control of the shop to Asra. The two of them nowadays just like to hang out and shoot the breeze together in their precious free time. 

Julian - Julian came highly recommended by Princess Nazali so it’s not at all surprising Ihsan eventually met and befriended the doctor. Ihsan appreciates his brilliance and dedication, Julian appreciates Ihsan’s people skills and ability to cut through the bullshit. While they aren’t drinking buddies, Ihsan and Julian have been known to get up to some high brow philosophy/ethics discussions or increasingly ridiculous magical experimentation when they’ve had a bit too much.

Valerius - His royal wineness, Ihsan’s best enemy, is the only member of Lucio’s court Ihsan can stand for more than five minutes. Valerius thinks Ihsan is too stiff and uncompromising, Ihsan thinks Valerius has the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair. Yet somehow through their years of sniping [before Ihsan left palace, caught the plague, and died] a grudging respect and friendship developed. After Ihsan’s return [which confused the fuck out of Valerius, I don’t think he knew that Ihsan had been dead but him coming back to the palace was definitely a sign to Valerius that Nadia was Paying Attention and oh shit, they might actually ferret me out], Ihsan basically devoted himself to turning Valerius into a respectable servant of the people again, mostly because after the whole route, Nadia needs all the competent, capable people she can get and, moral backbone aside, Valerius is one such person. 

Silas (and Portia) - Silas is Ihsan’s anger translator. While Ihsan feels compelled to be diplomatic, polite, and respectful, Silas doesn’t. This pair frequently gets together to bitch about the ridiculousness of nobility, corrupt court politics, the latest hat fashions, and the necessity of hope and idealism in the face of horror. Portia and Silas are together and she introduced the gents not too long after Nadia’s route resolves. Ihsan considers Silas a long lost brother.

[lazyvoyager]

GentApprentice Week "(boy)Friends to Lovers"- On physical intimacy with their LI

Whoooops this took a long time 😅 Illain has an idea that something existed between him and Asra before he lost his memory, buuut he wasn't exactly sure what. Asra, ever enigmatic, hadn't been exactly crystal clear about it.

[enbymagicianweek]

🖤💜Official Prompt and Rule List for Nonbinary Apprentice Appreciation Week 🤍💛

Prompts Are:

Sunday, September 6th - Gifted Child: Apprentice’s Backstory & Pre-plague Life

Monday, September 7th - Nonbinary Refinery: Apprentice’s Clothes, Appearance, and Gender Affirming Choices

Tuesday, September 8th - Transcendent  Love: Apprentice Meeting their LI & Falling in Love

Wednesday, September 9th - Magician’s Best Friend: Apprentice’s familiar or other pets

Thursday, September 10th - Master Magician: Apprentice’s Magical skills and capabilities

Friday, September 11th - Beloved Spouse: Apprentice’s Marriage or Wedding to their LI

Saturday, September 12th - Magically Ever After: Apprentice’s Life post story & their future

How to join in the fun? 

Simple, create content for an Apprentice/OC for The Arcana that falls under the umbrella for nonbinary identities. This content can be whatever you want, all will be reblogged so long as it does not violate the rules mentioned above (For example: No stolen art) so long as it features an original nonbinary character. If you wish to use someone else’s nonbinary character please ask for explicit permission first.

Tag this content with #ENBYMCWEEK2020 or @enbymagicianweek​ or submit it to here for it to be shared

What can’t I do?

Above is our list of rules that are as follows: No traced or stolen content, Be respectful, Event will be 18+ (Sorry Minors its just to be safe!), Be mindful of other people’s ID’s and their oc’s, misgendering will not be tolerated, and most importantly have fun!

Have a masc apprentice? Check out @gentapprentices​ and keep an eye out for our sister event for trans femme oc’s

[otheliame]

holy shiznit i can’t believe i almost missed day 1 of @gentapprentices week, “Magic Man”! 

Jamie specializes in the magic of shapeshifting, physically able to turn his body into the body of an animal he has seen and knows well. His animal of choice is usually a wolf, as the trouble with this magic is that the farther it is from his physical form, the more painful it is to become it (i.e. it would probably kill Jamie to try to turn into a worm, but a wolf is something closer to his original form so it doesn’t hurt as bad to shapeshift into - think Animorphs). 

This bled out naturally into illusion magic and prestidigitation abilities, such as deepening shadows, once he started to learn more about magic under more proper channels later on. :0)

[into-the-daniverse]

Jamil, Camia and Leon (ft. Nasmira and Alec) | Machine

This is ridiculously long I am so sorry. Used the Day 3 prompt from the @gentapprentices Gentleman Apprentices Week: For the Boys. We’ve got the whole band here, plus Nasmira, in their first meeting with Alec as a sneaky street kid!

Title: Machine by MISTERWIVES 3.6 k words

***

As the Firentian ship pulled into Prakra’s docks, three musicians leapt overboard with nothing more than their instruments and the clothes on their backs, racing each other to the land.

Leon made it first, throwing himself onto the sparkling sands with a whoop. “Ah, solid ground!” He kicked off his shoes, digging his toes into the sand with a satisfied sigh. “No more stupid rolling seas.”

“Don’t get too comfortable; we’re going to have to take another ship to get to Venterre and meet up with everyone again,” Camia said, shifting her violin case in her arms as she ignored his cries of protest. “Besides, as ships go that one wasn’t too bad. The food was good.”

Standing next to Camia, Jamil shuddered, guitar slung over his back, and a grimace crossing his face. “It was edible, which is more than I can say for the last dingy boat we were on.”

“Not everyone has as refined tastes, as you, Jamil,” Leon laughed, sitting up, his dark hair still trailing on the ground behind him. “Roasted fish may seem like a step-down from whatever you had at the palace growing up, but it’s leagues above my old meals of weeks-old bread and mushy fruit.”

Camia laughed, reaching down to help Leon stand, brushing some sand off his shoulders and the bag he had over his shoulders. “Don’t tease him too much; it’s not his fault he has delicate taste buds.”

Rolling his eyes, Jamil sighed and started walking away from his friends. “Come on, let’s get a move on. Don’t wanna be here longer than we have to.” The excitement of being off a rocking ship was quickly fading, as the longer he stood in Prakra, the heavier the weight on his shoulders grew.

“Hey.” Camia caught up to his side, sliding her hand in his. “It’ll be okay. We’re just going to see what your parents want and then leave, like we planned. With any luck we’ll be on the earliest ship out tomorrow.” Leon took Jamil’s other hand, swinging their arms rhythmically as the three walked further from the docks and into the kingdom.

Jamil nodded, squeezing both of their hands. “I know. Just—I wish I didn’t have to play the dutiful son anymore. I wish they would just cut me off completely already. I know they want to.”

“I mean, I’m surprised they didn’t cut you off when you ran away.” Leon said. “I would have thought that would be enough, but, hey, what do I know about parents?” Camia snorted and Jamil groaned, which was about the reaction Leon had expected.

Before either of them could retort, a carriage pulled up in front of them. The three exchanged nervous glances, and Jamil feared the worst, very much wanting the ground to swallow him up and deposit him back into the Emerald Sea.

“Jamil!” To his surprise, and immediate relief, the person who stepped out of the carriage was none other than Nasmira, his cousin. Well, technically she was his cousin, once removed, but they had never cared for the specifics. She exited the carriage with her usual royal grace but threw that to the side to envelop him in a strong, warm hug.

“M-Mira,” he gasped out, hearing his friends chuckle behind him. “It’s good to see you.”

She pulled away to pinch his cheeks, and he fought back a scowl. “You never come by to visit,” she exclaimed in Prakran with a small pout. “So, when I heard your parents finally got a hold of you, I had to come greet you!”

“Thanks, Mira.” He did feel a little bit better that she was there. Aside from Nadia, Nasmira had always been the cousin he got along with best. “So, you’re our escort?”

“I am! Camia, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” she said, switching to the common Vesuvian tongue as she gave the other woman a wink. Jamil didn’t need to look at his friend to know she was returning the wink, and he groaned inwardly. “But I don’t believe we’ve met?” Her attention was turned to Leon, who stepped forward.

“I can only assume I’m in the presence of royalty, so please forgive my humble appearance.” He bowed dramatically, his long hair sweeping the ground. “I am Leon.”

Nasmira giggled behind her hand as Jamil rolled his eyes. “Oh, how charming. It is good to meet you, Leon. You are correct; I am one of Prakra’s Princesses, but please, just call me Nasmira.”

Leon stood straight, extending his hand in her general direction. “I would like that very much, Nasmira.” She took it with a smile, and Jamil cleared his throat.

“Not that I’m in any particular hurry to see my parents, but I know I’m in for enough of an ear-full already. Should we head over?”

“Ah, yes!” Nasmira took Camia’s hand in her free one and pulled the two of them into the carriage, Jamil following behind. “Come in, come in.”

~

The ride to his parent’s estate was a long one, as they lived closer to the Star Lakes than the Emerald Sea, but Nasmira at least made the ride enjoyable. She regaled his friends with tales from their childhood, and they both had equally embarrassing stories that kept Leon and Camia doubled over laughing. And if Jamil faded out of the conversation, his thoughts turning to his parents, someone would reach out to pull him back in again—whether it was Leon’s hand squeezing his, or Camia’s, or Nasmira calling him back into the discussion. But all too soon, the cold stone estate was in front of them, and the carriage slowed to a stop.

Jamil stepped out first, steeling his expression as a servant came out to welcome him.

“Master Jamil, your parents requested you change before your meeting with them.”

Jamil clicked his tongue but held his retort back. “Fine.” He waved at his friends over his shoulder. “Go on, get comfortable. I shouldn’t be too long.”

He didn’t look back to see them, but he felt their nervousness regardless. He followed the servant through the hallways to his old room, where they stopped by his bed, an elegant, ruby colored outfit laid out for him.

“Do you require assistance, sir?”

“Do I… no, no. Thank you.” He waved them off, and they bowed, leaving his room. He suppressed a violent shudder as the door closed behind him, half expecting it to lock him inside. With a heavy sigh he pulled his guitar over his shoulder, lying it gently on his bed, and changed out of his comfortable traveling outfit of a white tunic and dark pants into the ornate toga his parents had provided. He had just finished dressing when a knock at the door startled him. “Yes?” he called, grabbing his guitar as he headed towards the door.

“Thought you might need an escort to Mama and Baba’s office,” a familiar voice said, and Jamil threw open his bedroom door to see Mia, his younger sister, though she looked quite different from how he remembered. Her hair trailed down her back in a long, dark braid that almost touched the floor, and she was practically to his shoulders now, her green eyes—like his and their father’s—sparkling.

“Mia!” He stood in the doorway, looking her up and down. “Gods, you’ve grown.”

“Hm, you’re still the same,” she said, but with a smile that showed off the small gap between her front teeth. “That’s a nice color on you; Hakim picked well.”

Jamil started, glancing down at his outfit. “Hakim picked this? I thought it was our parents.”

Mia nodded, looping her arm in his as they started walking down the hall. “It was their idea, of course, but you should have seen the hideous purple they wanted to put you in. Hakim intervened at the last second.” She sighed, twirling a golden tassel on her own robe around her finger. “It would have washed you out.”

“Oh, and we can’t have that.”

She just laughed at his sarcastic remark, and all too soon they reached their parent’s office. She stopped in front of the doors and held his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Jamil, I don’t know what they’re going to say to you in there, but I want you to know that neither Hakim nor I are mad at you. We never have been.” Her voice lowered, and she looked angrily at the doors. “I know what Mama did to you, and I never blamed you for leaving. But I do miss you. Please don’t just disappear again.”

Jamil felt his heart swell and he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his sister’s hand, smiling at her. “Thank you, Mia. I won’t disappear, I promise.”

“Better not,” she said, and after giving him a quick hug, disappeared back the way they came, leaving him alone in front of his parent’s office.

He let out a deep breath and straightened himself, pushing the doors open.

~

“I’m free!” Jamil exclaimed, throwing his arms up to the sky.

“Yes, Jamil, we heard you the first five times,” Camia sighed, but she was smiling at him, her hand on Nasmira’s arm. “What did they actually say?”

Jamil laughed, strumming his guitar as they walked down the streets, mid-afternoon sun high above them. “That’s the best part—Mama never actually spoke. Baba did all of the talking, for once, and he just said he wanted me to be happy. Can you believe that?” He purposely left out the parts of the conversation where his parents made it very clear that they didn’t ever want to see him again, but he was too happy with the knowledge that they let him go to care about that.

Camia shrugged. “I’d say it sounds too good to be true, but they also wouldn’t lie about it.”

“I still wish I could have met them,” Leon said, and Jamil didn’t miss the glint in his eyes.

“Really don’t feel like getting banned from my own hometown, Lee, at least not yet,” Jamil said, and Leon laughed.

“I wouldn’t have done anything they could prove.”

“I’m happy it went well for you, Jamil,” Nasmira said, patting his back. “I’m not sure what you had planned next, but if you need a place to stay the night, you are always welcome at the palace.”

Leon’s face lit up, but Jamil was quick to intervene. “Thanks, Mira, but I think we could use the fresh air.”

“Speak for yourself,” Leon grumbled under his breath, just out of Nasmira’s earshot.

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us!” She said, pressing a kiss to Jamil’s cheek. “I’m afraid I must be going, but please do visit again soon. I know the rest of my sisters would love to see you as well.”

“I will,” he said, and hugged her.

Then it was just the three musicians again, and they started to slowly make their way back to the docks, taking in the sights and smells around them. Jamil was still playing around with his guitar, and he started humming one of their songs when he felt eyes on him.

“Don’t normally play a show without at least seeing my audience,” he said, and Camia gave him a strange look until a kid, a girl popped out in front of them, seemingly out of nowhere. Bright blue eyes latched onto his guitar, looking innocently up at him through dark eyelashes.

“What’s that?”

Jamil gave her what he hoped was an inviting smile. “My guitar.”

“You can play music on that?”

Camia laughed quietly next to him. “Listen,” he said, plucking out a few chords for the girl to hear, her eyes widening with every note. She shifted closer to him, tucking short, messy, dark hair behind her ears.

“That’s so cool.”

Jamil felt himself puff a little with pride, winking at the girl. “Well, thank you.”

“Can I…” she reached out towards the guitar, and he nodded, making to pull it over his shoulder when he noticed the shift in her expression. One hand on the neck of the guitar, she smirked, and with a snap of her fingers the guitar went flying over his head, sailing through the air. Before he could react, she was standing at the end of the alley, the guitar in hand, waving it at him. “Thanks!” And then she turned a corner, with his guitar.

“Wh—Hold on, wait—” He yelled after her, scrambling to give chase, and heard Camia and Leon following behind him. “What the hell are you doing with my guitar?!”

He chased her down alleys and streets, always just too far behind. Damn this outfit, he swore, still in the red toga from when he met with his parents. If I hadn’t changed—her laugh taunted him as she pulled further and further away until he couldn’t see her anymore. The three musicians came to a sudden stop, whipping around to try and spot her.

“She took my guitar!” Jamil cried.

“Yes, I saw that.” Camia said, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t have let her touch it.”

“How was I supposed to know she was going to steal it?”

Camia rolled her eyes. “She’s obviously a street kid, Jamil, maybe try using common sense?”

Jamil whined, pulling at his hair. “How are we going to find her?”

“We can try the inner city, maybe she thought she could lose us there—”

“That’s huge! We’ll never find her—"

“I found her.”

Camia and Jamil blinked, turning to look at Leon, who had been uncharacteristically silent while they were speaking. “What did you say?” Camia asked.

Leon shrugged. “I found her.” He walked past his friends, patting them both on the shoulder sympathetically. “You two didn’t grow up on the streets, and it shows. She’s not going to be at the inner city; too many guards. I know exactly where she went.”

“Wh-how? You’ve never even been to Prakra before.” Jamil jogged to catch up with Leon, who was already a number of strides ahead of them.

Leon stopped abruptly, holding his hand out to keep Jamil from barreling into him. “I can feel her—well, her magic, at least. You don’t think a regular street kid was just able to pull your guitar over your shoulder without even touching you, do you?”

“Well, no, I guess not—”

Camia groaned, joining them. “Great, we’re dealing with a magical street kid now. Lee, where is she?”

Leon smiled, picking the pace up again as they wove through the city. “Right this way!”

It was almost night when they finally stopped, the sun starting to fall below the horizon. Leon stopped them in front of a crumbling building, in the middle of deserted street. Ruins from a past devastation. Jamil remembered an earthquake had torn this street apart before he left, though he had never actually seen the damage.

Stepping over broken bricks the three musicians made their way into what looked like an old shop, though long abandoned. Stairs in the back lead up, and they followed the spiraling staircase until they reached a hatch. Jamil eased it up slowly, taking in the room above him.

The dying sunlight poured in from a large hole in the wall, and numerous blankets, trinkets, and scraps of food littered the floor (all stolen, Jamil assumed). The light plucking of strings caught his attention, and he squinted in the direction of the sun, where the girl was sitting, holding his guitar.

She was copying the song he had been playing before, and he had to admit (although begrudgingly) that she had picked up on it well. He could hear Leon humming softly next to him and elbowed his friend, trying to figure out how to approach the girl.

“Ah, shit,” she said suddenly, her fingers slipping on the strings. Camia snorted, and the girl whipped her head around, leaping up. “Who’s there?”

Grumbling, Jamil threw the hatch open, pulling himself up into the room. The girl squeaked in surprise and held the guitar behind her back, unsuccessfully trying to hide it. “Found you, kid,” Jamil said, his hands on his hips as he stared at her. “Now give me back my guitar.”

The girl groaned, looking anywhere but at him as she slowly produced the guitar from behind her back, though she kept glancing at the hole behind her.

Jamil reached out and grabbed the neck of the guitar. “If you jump, so help me, I will kill you.”

She laughed, letting go. “As if you could catch me.”

“Hey, I found you here, didn’t I?”

Leon elbowed Jamil back as both him and Camia climbed up from the hatch. “I found her. You two were going to go to the inner city.”

“The inner city?” The girl wrinkled her nose. “Why would I be there? Too many stuffy rich people with their dumb guards.”

Leon grinned. “That’s exactly what I said, cub.”

She looked away, a blush on her cheeks, though she didn’t seem to object to the nickname. “So, now what? You gonna turn me in or something?”

“No, we got what we came for,” Camia said, sharing a glance with Jamil, who was still holding tightly to his guitar. “Kid, how long have you lived here?” She took in the state of the room around them. “I know this may be a stupid question, but are you alone?”

The girl shrugged, but there was a certain sadness in her voice when she spoke. “I mean, yeah. No one else wants to live here since the earthquake.”

“What about your parents?” Jamil asked, and Camia pinched his side, sending him a glare. “Ow, what?”

“They’re dead.” The girl’s bottom lip quivered as she said it, but she straightened herself within a second, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is this interrogation over?”

“Just a moment,” Leon said, gathering his friends into a tight huddle. Casting a quick silencing spell over them—which Jamil recognized by the slight shimmer in the air—he took his friends’ hands in his. “Jamil, can we take her with us, please?”

Jamil almost choked on his spit. “Wh-what?”

“We can’t just leave her here; she’s alone.”

“Uh, we can just leave her here—better yet, we can take her to Mira. She would have programs, people the kid can stay with. It’s kind of her job to take care of the people.”

“None of those programs are going to work for her,” Leon insisted, “and besides, she needs help with her magic. It’s really strong.”

Jamil shrugged, rolling his eyes. “I can’t feel any magic.”

Leon groaned, jabbing Jamil’s chest with his finger. “That’s because you have the magical senses of a dead fish, Jamil—Cami, help me out here!”

Camia sighed, putting her hand on Jamil’s shoulder. “Leon’s right—on both accounts. There’s a lot of magic in the air around her.”

Leon brightened, but before he could say anything else, Camia put a finger to his lips.

“Why don’t we ask her? Give her options. Our life isn’t exactly easy for a growing kid.”

Jamil and Leon both nodded, and the silencing spell disappeared. They turned to face the girl, who was standing right in front of them, blue eyes sparkling.

“What was that? How did you do that? Can I do that? Can you show me?” She fired off questions, jumping around them and tugging on Leon’s sleeve. He laughed, and Jamil felt his heart soften.

“Hear us out, kid. We’ve got a couple propositions for you.”

Still bouncing, she nodded, turning her attention to Jamil.

“Do you want to get out of this place?”

She stilled, looking between the three of them, her dark eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“We’ll leave you alone if that’s what you really want, but if not, you have a couple options.” Jamil sat down on the floor in front of her, and she slowly joined him, fingers fidgeting with her tunic. “My cousin, Nasmira, she’s one of the Princesses. If I take you to her, she could find you a nice home with other kids like you, sign you up for a school if you wanted, or start a trade if that’s more your style. You would have security, friends, and a generally more comfortable life than you have now.”

He paused, gauging her reaction. She was silent, but when she noticed he was waiting, shrugged her shoulders. “Or?”

“Or…” he glanced back at his friends. Camia gave him a small nod. “You could come with us. We’re normally a bigger group than this, but we travel all over the world to play music and just be. Of course, we have far less stability—you’d spend a lot of nights sleeping under the stars versus in a comfortable bed, and food can be harder to come by—but we know how to have a good time regardless. You’d be free to leave whenever you want, or if you find another city you like you can stay.”

“Would you teach me how to play?” She pointed to his guitar, a sheepish smile on her face. “I’m not very good at it.”

“Yeah, kid, I’ll teach you.” Jamil patted Leon’s foot. “And Leon can teach you magic, if you want.”

Her face lit up, and she jumped to her feet. “Really?”

“Of course!” Leon smiled, and she squealed, wrapping her arms around his waist in a quick hug.

“I want to come with you, with all of you! Please?”

Camia reached out to ruffle her hair, a soft smile on her face. “If that’s what you want.”

“Oh, I do!” The girl was practically vibrating with happiness, and she bounced in front of Jamil as he stood back up. “When can we leave?”

“Well, I don’t think any more ships are pulling out this late, but we can take the first one come morning.” He glanced around them, thinking back to his parent’s perfectly polished but overwhelming estate. The old, crumbling walls around him felt more secure and comforting that his own room ever did. “Can we crash here for tonight?”

The girl laughed. “If you don’t mind the mess.”

“Not at all, kid.” He paused, studying her. “Guess we should probably actually introduce ourselves, huh?”

“I guess that would make sense. I’m Alec,” she said, holding her hand out with a fake seriousness. When he went to shake it, she pulled her hand back, sticking her tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed. “I’m Jamil. Welcome to the band, Alec.” As Camia and Leon stepped forward to introduce themselves, and Jamil watched them all interact, he was struck with the feeling that everything was about to change. He laughed to himself, thinking that his more superstitious friends were rubbing off on him, and watched the sun slip below the horizon completely.

[ame-fanapprentice]

@gentapprentices​ Gentleman Apprentice Week Day 6

Dear Husband—your apprentice’s wedding or married life

The idea of marriage was mostly Ame’s idea.  Muriel and Ame, after making their partnership official, had a sort of unspoken engagement.  They never sealed their relationship with rings or had any big proposal, instead they just quietly agreed that they would commit themselves to each other.   Asra was the one to break the question about marriage.  While Muriel wasn’t exactly thrilled over the idea of a big celebration, Ame really did love the idea of having a small ceremony.  There was only one problem: with Ame’s memory loss and the Kokhuri gone, neither of them had any idea on where to start in what their wedding should include.

They took to Ame’s shop first.  His Aunt had left all kinds of family heirlooms and books when she passed down the shop’s ownership to Ame.  In his youth, Ame also had a tendency to write in journals or to scribble details that he found interesting about certain topics.  Oscar helped find the first clue in an old cedar chest in the corner of Ame’s bedroom.  His father’s wedding coat neatly tucked away with colored powder stained into the fabric.   The Kokhuri traditions were much harder to figure out.  Ame and Muriel jogged their memories for whatever clues might’ve hid in the tapestries at Khamgalai’s hut.  A few scrolls in the depths of the library did have some clues from explorers who tried to make sense of all the mysterious tribes in the southern tip of the world.  They even visited Khamgalai in the arcane realms for help and she was able to piece everything together.   They ended up skipping a few steps in both of their family’s customs, mostly because it didn’t exactly make sense to reintroduce each other nor ask for the other’s hand in marriage when they had already agreed to it.  They didn’t want to be separated either, a tradition that goes back to Ame’s family that requires the spouses to not have any contact for three days.   Instead they settled for the ceremonial traditions.  Before their vows they announced their love with colored powder, each representing a different characteristic they liked about each other.  With each vow they took turns drinking from the same cup, sealing their unity.  Rehema (Oscar’s mother), Aisha and Salim acted as unofficial parents and witnesses to their marriage.  The after-party was mostly Nadia’s work.  She laid out a massive feast in the palace gardens.  Dancing and music filled the evening while Asra helped amuse the small crowd with flashy magic.  Ame and Muriel did end up sneaking off at one point just to wander the maze and enjoy each other’s company.  Muriel would grumble that there were too many people, but he really did enjoy every moment of their wedding.  

[gentapprentices]

Hopefully you’re all staying safe inside—but that doesn’t mean Vesuvians should! Tell us about your apprentice’s favorite place. It could be in Vesuvia, the Major Arcana realms, or beyond... 💫🌏✨ Bonus points if you write a little story about it! 

Map of Vesuvia | Map of Arcana World

Please reblog from the original or create a new post to keep this thread from getting too long. 

Gentleman Apprentice Week is August 9-15 | More Prompts

[devoraqs]

Day One: Magic Man What kind of magic do they specialise in?

@gentapprentices​

“I know what you’re going to ask. Yes, there’s a spell to turn lead into gold. No, I’m not going to do it because you need twice as much gold as lead to actually get it to work, and that’s not very cost effective is it.”

 Alexander’s strongest magical skill is alchemy, though he still dabbles in others. He likes to experiment with transmutation of spell reagents to either increase their potency or to change the way they react in spellwork. This has... varying levels of success! On more than one occasion, Asra’s come home to find the back room covered in a layer of magical soot from a spell backfiring (read: exploding).  As well as this, he’s a keen astronomer and astrologer, and draws a lot of divination power from the planets and constellations. 

Picture details under the cut

[ilyamatic]

Day 2: His Daddy’s Son

May I interest you some angst?

"Papa, do you love me?”

Andrico can count on one hand how many times he has asked that question. He remembers asking once when he only reached up to father’s knee, frustrated with all the attention his new baby sister was getting. The next was when he was ten after being caught tailing Augustine soldiers (“Glorified thugs, his grandfather would bite out) down the road, curious as to why they were searching his neighbor's homes. He had never seen his father so angry before, not even when he and his siblings were at their worst. It scared him a little. He had yet to see him so angry again. The third time he asked was when he ran off to fight in the war full of youth and hope.

Each time he asked his father gave the same answer: “Yes, Dridri I love you. How could I not?”. His father had answered this between peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses. When he wrapped his arm around his shoulder, his tired eyes stern yet soft. His father said it even through his tears as he begged him not to go. But now?

Andrico stared out into the crowd gathered to watch his punishment. Where was Papa now? The only faces he recognized was his weeping mother leaning against his younger brother Jacques. His father was nowhere to be found.

The little boy within him began to cry. 

Papa, do you love you?

There was no answer this time.