#ilmaren

[thrillofhope]

A Light That Never Dims

Two Trees there once were — One with leaves of gold, Warm, bright, and pure. Silver was the splendor of its mate, A radiance of beauty untold. They wove a song of light and of fate In those moments between reigns When they mingled and shone on Ilmaren’s plains.

Twilight was not the fading of the light, Rather, the promise that dark would not take the night.

The song which whistled through the leaves was one of peace Until a theme of discord rang out and shook the Trees. The dark drank of the light And thence came the true night.

The spirit of light was rent from the Trees, but it is not to memory lost. It lives on in the stars — Those which guided the Noldor a bitter wasteland acrost, Those that remained when home was swallowed by the seas. And still they shine over a kingdom made in lands afar.

The stars stir the elves to wonder and to worship, Those beneath whose light they wander and sing. A light which lives on in the heart of their king — The hope that what was in days of old might yet be. A radiance of gold, a realm fair and free. It is a light he finds in her eyes, Silver pools that see beyond the ruin of what was, A sight the lord of darkness doth despise.

It is a light that never dims.

[merrydisposition]

My friend and I are playing twins in the Ghosts of Saltmarsh campaign. Ilmaren, air genasi barbarian, and Ilvermore, water genasi sorcerer. Their mother was a storm djinn.

Me, make another buff lady character? You’re damn right I did

[nyarnamaitar]

@sevindevils Manwë so would.

Interior Bas-Relief Sculptures of Peacocks and Lush Florals by Goga Tandashvili

[reyneclaw]

since i’m procrastinating again.. from estel’s pov, the marriage between lord vincent and isabel would be a statement. a decisive move, basically a declaration of war on almaste. exactly what vincent is trying to avoid or at least put off for as long as possible. she also wants to declare him king. he will refuse and suggest another candidates.  from vincent’s pov, this is abusing an innocent person he’s now responsible for. unwillingly. besides, he has plenty other responsibilities atm. not to mention a SO. orion. btw he’s gay. orion says he doesn’t care if vincent marries her because it’s a political marriage and it has to be done. 

[tae-art]

Commissioned @elizastarkart again, for my D&D character this time. She did a lovely job. 

Deimos (they/them) from @ballad-of-ilmaren campaign. 

[swilmarillion]

In Chapter 12 of FYD you had mentioned that Manwe’s last name was Ilmaren. Was this the original Eru-Manwe-Melkor family name?

The short answer is no.

The long answer is...

               “I’vebeen giving it some thought,” Manwë said, shifting the newspaper in his handsto straighten the page he was reading, “and I think I might change my name.”

               Vardalooked up from her crossword, twirling her pen in her fingers, browsfurrowing.  “Your name?”

               “Yes,”said Manwë.  “My surname, specifically.”

               Shefrowned, a prettiness in the gesture that Manwë silently considered a bitunfair.  “What’s wrong with Iluvatar?”she asked.

               Manwë closedthe newspaper, folded it neatly, and set it down on the table in front ofhim.  “Nothing’s wrong with it,” he saidcarefully.  “I just…”He trailed off,trying to gather his thoughts.  “It’s myfather’s name,” he said finally, shrugging.

               “Yes,”Varda said, raising an eyebrow.  “That’sgenerally how surnames work.”

               “Yes,”Manwë said, “but—I don’t know.  It’shard, having that last name.  Everyoneimmediately associates it with my dad, which is fine, I guess.  I love my dad.  But I just—“He stopped again, shaking hishead.

               “Youwhat?” Varda prompted, tilting her head to the side, blonde hair sliding overher shoulder to brush gently against the table.

               “I wantmy achievements to be mine,” Manwë said. “I want to have earned them.  Notto be cocky, but I want to do great things, really important things, and if andwhen I do, I don’t want anyone to say I only accomplished those things by ridingon my father’s coattails.”

               “No oneis going to say that,” Varda said firmly.

               “Theyalready do,” Manwë said, a little forlornly. “This is his alma mater, and—”

               “Yougot a near-perfect score on the SAT,” Varda said.  “You were president of your student body.  You went to the national competition on yourdebate team.  I could name a dozen other thingsyou’ve done that are incredibly impressive, and none of them are things yourdad could’ve helped you do.”

               “Iknow,” Manwë said.  

               “Whatbrought this up?” Varda asked.  “Why isthis suddenly worrying you?”

               “I don’tknow,” Manwë said, knowing that she could tell it wasn’t true.”

               “Manwë,”she said, half-scolding, half-cajoling.

               Hefrowned, running his finger over the crease in the newspaper.  “I ran into my brother the other day,” hesaid, by way of explanation.

               “Damnit, Manwë,” said Varda, exasperated. Manwë winced at the unfamiliar vulgarity, so rarely passing from herlips.  “I’ve told you a hundred times toignore him.  Melkor is a selfish,self-centered prick who loves nothing more than to get under your skin.  Stop letting him.”

               “I knowwhat Melkor is,” said Manwë.  “I’ve knownhim a lot longer than you have.”

               “So whyare you letting him get to you?”

               “Look,I know that Melkor can be nasty and spiteful. I know he likes to say things that’ll upset me or make me angry.  But here’s the thing, Varda: just because he’strying to be hurtful doesn’t necessarily mean he’s wrong.”

               “Justbecause it upsets you,” Varda shot back, “doesn’t mean it’s true.”

               “Allthose things you said earlier,” Manwë said, “the things you said I accomplishedwithout my dad—I mean, sure, I did them on my own, but I wouldn’t have been ina position to do any of them without my father’s support.  He paid for private tutors, he sent me to aprestigious prep school, he taught me to be responsible and to work hard and toalways be aiming higher.  As proud as Iam of what I’ve accomplished in life, I have to acknowledge that none of itwould have been possible without him.”

               “I cansay the same thing,” Varda said.  “So cananyone.”

               Manwëwas silent a moment, thinking.  “Thereare people,” he said slowly, “who live their lives defined by who and whattheir families are.  They use their familyname as a trophy, a springboard to get farther than they might have withoutit.  I don’t want to be those people,Varda.  I love my dad, and I’m verygrateful for the opportunities he’s given me. I don’t want to distance myself from him, or anything like that.  I just want to be recognized in my own right.”

               “Youwill be,” she said.  “You already are.”

               “Thenit shouldn’t matter,” he said.

               She wassilent a moment, tapping the end of her pen against the table.  “Have you thought,” she asked, “about howyour dad might feel about this?”

               “He’llunderstand,” Manwë said.  “I know hewill.  He and I are a lot morelike-minded on these things than I ever wanted to admit when I was ateenager.  If I want to do this, and Ido, then he’ll support me.”

               “You’rereally set on this, aren’t you?”

               “Doesit bother you?”

               “Manwë,I don’t care what you call yourself.  Itdoesn’t change who you are or how much I love you.”  He smiled and held his hand out across thetable to her.  She laid her hand in his,squeezing it gently.  “If this makes youhappy,” she said, “or puts your mind at ease, then by all means, do it.  I just don’t want you to do it for the wrongreasons.”

               “Melkor-relatedreasons, you mean.”

               “He’syour brother,” Varda said, “but you don’t have to let him be anything more thanthat.”

               “Youhate him, don’t you?”

               “I hatewhat he does to you, Manwë.”

               “Youthink I’m too easy on him,” Manwë said.  “It’sokay.  Everyone does—my dad included.”

               “Youdon’t agree.”

               “I knowthat he can be awful,” Manwë said.  “I knowthat he can be spiteful and underhanded and vindictive.  But I also know he’s smarter than anyone I’veever met, and clever in a way that is honestly a little terrifying.  He’s quick on his feet, and he’s resourcefulas all hell.  And as much as he can be adick, sometimes, he can also be kind and generous and a really good friend.  Melkor could do really great things, giventhe chance.”

               “I don’tdoubt it,” Varda said.  “I just wonderhow many chances one person can possibly deserve.”

               “Atleast one more,” Manwë said, picking up the newspaper and opening itagain.  

[tygrondesign]

It is just the tip of the iceberg! :) #silmarillion #manwe #manwë #tolkien #valar #varda #Ilmaren #sil #dressingarda #arda #rhinestones #tygrondesign #hobbitcon4 #hobbitcon #einur

[justhereforthesherlock]

for a REALLY short summary, how about Camwyn’s:

THE ENTIRE SILMARILLION OF J. R. R. TOLKIEN IN ONE THOUSAND WORDS.

AINULINDALE:

ILUVATAR: Ahem.

AINUR: Wow! Existence!

ILUVATAR: *blows pitch pipe* LA!

AINUR: LA LA LA!

ILUVATAR: LA LA!

AINUR: LA LA!

MELKOR: This sucks. BUM BUM BA DUM!

AINUR: Um. . . la?

ILUVATAR: Ahem. LA!

MELKOR: Boop bop-a-doo-bop!

ILUVATAR: LA, dammit.

MELKOR: Bwam bardle ningle boom.

AINUR: . . .

ILUVATAR: Right, you're out of the band.

MELKOR: Fine, I was leaving anyway.

AINUR: . . .

ILUVATAR: What are you waiting for?

AINUR: Oh. Right. Newly created world. Sorry. Great jam session, big guy!

ILUVATAR: Yeesh.

VALAQUENTA:

MANWE: I'm in charge!

VARDA: I'm Manwe's spouse. And queen of the stars!

NAMO: I do death and fate. They call me Mandos.

VAIRE: I'm Namo's spouse. I weave things.

IRMO: I have gardens. They call me Lorien.

ESTE: I'm Irmo's spouse. I take care of the gardens.

YAVANNA: I make things grow.

NIENNA: I'm sad.

ULMO: I live in the ocean.

AULE: I'm Yavanna's spouse. I've got a great big hammer! I made dwarves.

NESSA: I dance.

OROME: I hunt!

VANA: I'm Orome's spouse. I make living things happy.

TULKAS: I'm strong. I'm Nessa's spouse. I got here last.

MELKOR: I'm bad, momma, I'm ONE BAD MUTHA-

TULKAS: Grar.

MELKOR: Um. Yeah. Hiding now.

QUENTA SILMARILLION:

VALAR: Hey! Ilmaren! Party on the island, everyone!

MELKOR: Bah. Too bright. *builds fortress, kicks over lamps*

VALAR: AUGH! *flee to west*

MELKOR: Hu hu hu.

VALAR: Oooooh SHINY TREES! Yavanna made shiny trees!

YAVANNA: Yep! Aren't they pretty?

MELKOR: Want shiny.

VALAR: Nope.

MELKOR: Why not?

VALAR: Because you're a jerk.

ELVES: Oh hey, stars. Shiny!

MELKOR: Oh hey, breeding stock.

ELVES: AUGH!

UNGOLIANT: Want shiny.

MELKOR: Let's go get shiny.

FEANOR: I've made more shiny!

VALAR: Good, 'cos Melkor took ours. Can we have yours?

FEANOR: No! MY SHINIES! MINE!

VALAR: Aw, !&*()!@&)!(&.

MELKOR: Got the shinies!

UNGOLIANT: Not enough shiny. Want more shiny!

MELKOR: You can't have 'em.

UNGOLIANT: Grar.

MELKOR: Eeek! *runs*

FEANOR AND SONS: We're gettin' our shinies back. And YOU CAN'T HAVE 'EM, Valar!

MELKOR/MORGOTH: No you're not. *stabbity fiery burny death*

BEREN: Ooo! Pretty elf lady!

THINGOL: You can have her if you ... BRING ME A SHINY!

BEREN: Worth a shot.

LUTHIEN: La la la

MORGOTH: Ooo baby... *zzz*

BEREN: Got your shiny!

MORGOTH: you *******! I stole those fair and square!

CARCHAROTH: Grar.

BEREN: Ow!

THINGOL: Got the shiny?

BEREN: 's in my hand.

THINGOL: And?

BEREN: Hand's not here.

THINGOL: ****, I really wanted that shiny.

CARCHAROTH: GRAR!!!!

BEREN: *dies*

LUTHIEN: *dies* La la la.

MANDOS: ... oh all right.

LUTHIEN: *returns to life*

BEREN: *returns to life*

LUTHIEN: Beren! Look! The shiny! In a necklace!

FEANOR'S SONS: *mutter*

LUTHIEN: *dies again*

BEREN: *dies again*

DIOR: Oo, Mom's shiny!

FEANOR'S SONS: WANT SHINY!

DIOR: *dies*

ELWING: Eek! *grabs shiny, runs*

FEANOR'S SONS: !*&(!)&)*!.

EARENDIL: Hey. Nice shiny. Yo! Valar!

VALAR: Well FINALLY. *stomp stomp stomp*

EARENDIL: Wow, planetary orbit!

MORGOTH: Eek!

VALAR: Got your shinies!

MAGLOR AND MAEDHROS: You mean OUR shinies!

VALAR: Oh *!&(!&).

MAGLOR AND MAEDHROS: Ow! Burny shinies!

MAEDHROS: Fine. This sucks. *jumps into chasm*

MAGLOR: Um... not really looking forward to meeting Dad again... *chucks shiny into sea* Bye. *wanders off*

VALAR: Well... um... okay.

AKALLABETH:

VALAR: Thanks for helping with Morgoth, Edain! Have an island! Elros is in charge!

EDAIN: Cool!

VALAR: Don't come looking for us.

EDAIN: Okay.

ELVES OF TOL ERESSEA: Have our stuff!

NUMENOREANS: Neat! Ooo, Middle-Earth!

GIL-GALAD: Dudes. Good to see you.

NUMENOREANS: Yeah, same here. What's going on?

GIL-GALAD: War with Sauron mostly.

MEN OF MIDDLE-EARTH: Shiny tall wonderful wise sea-king dudes! Yay!

NUMENOREANS: Here, have some stuff and wisdom.

MEN OF MIDDLE-EARTH: <3 <3 <3

NUMENOREANS: Life is cool. Why do we have to die?

ELVES: You're human?

NUMENOREANS: Can the Valar fix that?

VALAR: No.

NUMENOREANS: That sucks. Go away.

ELVES: Fine.

ELENDILI: Hey! Over here! We still like you!

MEN OF MIDDLE-EARTH: Gosh, we're lonely.

NUMENOREANS: Whatever, give us your wealth and your children.

MEN OF MIDDLE-EARTH: Um, okay.

ELENDILI: This isn't gonna end well, is it?

ELVES: No.

TAR-PALANTIR: We're sorry?

GIMILKHAD: *I'm* not.

AR-PHARAZON: Thanks for the throne, dude.

TAR-MIRIEL: Hey!

AR-PHARAZON: Shaddap, woman. Sauron, j00 suxx0r! I 0wnz0r j00!

SAURON: Okay.

AR-PHARAZON: Make me immortal.

SAURON: Human sacrifice is good. Also burn that pesky white tree.

AR-PHARAZON: Um. . .

ISILDUR: Hey! White tree! Got your fruit!

SAURON: *makes chicken noises*

AR-PHARAZON: Fine. Tree burn! Fire pretty!

ELENDIL: Isildur, Anarion, get the boats.

AR-PHARAZON: I've got a huge navy! Let's go conquer Valinor!

VALAR: Oh no you don't. *CRASHBANGBOOM*

AR-PHARAZON & CO.: Eeek!

ELENDIL, ISILDUR, ANARION: Wheee!

NUMENOREANS: Arrgh!

NUMENOR: SPLOOSH.

SAURON: Bwa ha ha! Um, where's my body?

ILUVATAR: Did I mention the world is round now?

NUMENOREANS IN EXILE: Well, ****.

OF THE RINGS OF POWER AND THE THIRD AGE:

ELVES: Wonder what's going on over the ocean. This crafting deal is pretty sweet, though!

DWARVES: Yeah, seriously.

ANNATAR: Hi, elves! Wanna learn some cool stuff?

ELVES: Okay!

SAURON: They fell for it.

SEVEN DWARVES: Thanks for the rings! . . oooh, GOLD! MUST HAVE GOLD!

NINE MEN: Neat rings. . . Hey, didn't Mom die like six hundred years ago?

CELEBRIMBOR: Okay, how about we do three more and call it a wrap?

SAURON: How about I do one more and claim them ALL?

ELVES: AUGH!

SAURON: Bwa ha ha!

LAST ALLIANCE OF ELVES AND MEN: Push off.

SAURON: Make me.

ISILDUR: Whack.

SAURON: Ow.

ELROND: Hey, you got his ring. Let's ditch it.

ISILDUR: No.

ELROND: This sucks.

ISILDUR: Tell me about it. *dies*

GONDORIANS: *change calendar*

CIRDAN: Hi, wizards! You in the grey, catch!

SAURON: Okay, that's long enough. Movin' into Dol Guldur.

SARUMAN: It's not him. Also the ring's lost at sea.

RING: No I'm not.

THE WISE: Augh.

THE WEAK: Bad ring! Volcano for you!

RING: *melts*

SAURON: AUGH!

MORDOR: BOOM.

GONDORIANS: *change calendar*

ELROND, GALADRIEL: Road trip!

GANDALF: Hi Cirdan! Still got your ring!

CIRDAN: Cool. Let's go to Valinor!

By the way if you don't have time or mental stamina to actually read and digest the Silmarillion but still want to keep up with the memes and the fandom I recommend this summary youtube series which will take a total of about 5 and a half hours to watch with an average 10-15 minutes per episode. Has all the relevant information from the book and I can vouch for that because I'm currently reading the book right now. And pictures.

[spikewrites]

The Wolf of Belnorde

19 Vairmoon 1684 NH

Lord Vaulker sees to pressing business... personally.

Vardeau hobbled along the dark slicked streets of Belnorde, his cloak clutched tightly around his broad shoulders. He’d been forced to close up late due to a surprise visit from a Council member; while the commission paid a great deal, it stranded him in the rain late at night. Oh, how he longed for the fire of his hearth! It was only another block until he’d reach his home and family, and all the comforts both would provide.

The carved granite steps led up to a large door of mahogany, set into the marble walls of his estate. Goldsmithing was a profitable business indeed, doubly so in the largest aeroport in western Fordemas, and as such it afforded the D’Armani family fittingly lavish accommodations. A calloused hand reached for and turned the tarnished handle, then retracted quite suddenly.

The door to Vardeau’s home was already unlocked, and ajar at that. Chills colder than the rains upon his back rushed up his spine.

Wringing out his cloak just outside the doorway, Vardeau cautiously meandered into the common room. The hearth was lit, its warmth only a partial comfort at present, but there were no lights on in the adjacent corridors or dining room. He’d had no need of it before, but Vardeau didn’t spare a second thought to pull the flintlock out from the compartment on the mantle. Three soft clicks echoed through the dark, empty halls as his thumb pulled back the hammer.

Vardeau’s calls into the darkened hallways were met with silence. A light at the end of the corridor beckoned him; his study. Each footstep seemed to thunder throughout the home in the black silence; at last, the door! Vardeau pointed his pistol into the room, and followed the door as it creaked open. Seeming empty, he stepped inside, and nearly pulled the trigger when the door slammed shut behind him.

Two armed muscular men--an olive-skinned khazu and a hulking Geld--stood beside the door, their eyes daring Vardeau to fire. And he had a mind to, were it not for the voice from his chair; refined, yet subtly venomous, and worst of all, a voice Vardeau knew.

“Master D’Armani. You’re twenty minutes late.”

“Lord Vaulker!” Vardeau disengaged the hammer, stuffing his flintlock into his belt. “I was soon to come to you about the debt, I swear!”

“Excuses do not become you, my friend. Do not try and wield them against me.” Vaulker swung about in the high-backed chair behind Vardeau’s desk, fingers peaked before a cold glare. The raghan-ka’s gaunt, scarred face was framed by thick locks of bristly black fur, his ears pointed forward and his long nose scrunched. A moment of met eyes between Vardeau and Vaulker froze the courven’s veins, and he could feel his face pale.

“I am honest, sir. First thing tomorrow morning, I swear, I was to come to the cathedral with recompense! Please, forgive my delay!”

“I did forgive it, the first two times you pleaded for an extension. My patience is as thin as I assume your wallet must be, if you have taken this long to pay me back. Thus, I decided I’d come to you this time.”

“Please, milord, have mercy!”

“I possess naught else.” Vaulker moved only his eyes, spying a framed family portrait upon the wall. Vardeau chilled further as a thin smile curled behind the raghan’s fingers. “Nice family you have.”

“No! No, no please, leave them out of this!”

“I am afraid that airship has left port, Master D’Armani. Rest assured, your wife and children are quite safe. And they will remain so, if you can repay your debt. Now.”

“I...” Vardeau’s eyes darted around the room, searching for an answer that obviously wasn’t present. He’d hoped Vaulker would have forgotten about the loan; it was a whole year and a half ago when he’d taken it! Alas, it was Vardeau who had forgotten, and now he was presented with a harsh reminder.

“Yes, Master D’Armani? Were you about to say something?” Vaulker waited for a response; none came. “Very well; allow me to present to you my final mercy. You have precisely twenty-four hours to come up with my money. You will deliver it to the Western Aeroport by this time tomorrow evening. By the way, there is interest; with as long as it has been, I believe thirty percent is fair? That’s including the prior interest, from your last appeal.”

“Thirty percent?! Along with the rest? I cannot possibly--”

“We can resolve this now, if you wish. Urglak and Jarlam would be happy to oblige.” Vaulker snapped his fingers, and Vardeau flinched in anticipation of what would soon follow.

“No! No, I--I’ll have the money, Lord Vaulker! Tomorrow night, Western Aeroport! You have my word!”

“That is precisely why I am not convinced.” Vaulker stood up swiftly from Vardeau’s desk, striding to the door with a perfect gait. Urglak and Jarlam followed, snickering darkly and shutting the door to the study behind them.

Vardeau fell to his knees only when he was sure his visitors had left, breathing hard with wide eyes staring at the floor. With the added interest, the total was now well above ten thousand rigals; a king’s ransom and then some. Tears flowed freely into his braided beard, clouding his view of his family’s portrait.

Truly, he was doomed.

[reyneclaw]

kinda aesthetics

[reyneclaw]

so they ran away disguised as a common boy and kind of faceplanted into the Real World... which sure changes nearly all of their opinions... their name is Terence, and despite the radical change they still want to be knighted, which as a rule doesn’t happen until you’re 16, unless for some extraordinary reason. actually, it’s the last thing the Ilmarene court wants, to take care of some runaway royal, but of course they are not handing them back... all while Vincent, the lord, is trying his best to explain that falling in love with a man 3x older than you whom you mostly know by correspondence, is Not The Best Idea... the lord is also gay, so it’s unclear about the heir, that is in the event if they gain their independence. i think Terence ends up also fighting for Ilmarene, not as a knight (they’ve been trained with the sword a little) but as a common soldier which is... a whole different thing... life-changing... background. Almaste is landlocked, Ilmarene is The Sea. merchants. they live it and breathe it. their whole identity is built around the sea. which is also reflected in their pantheon (the Kingdom is polytheistic, but Ilmarene may have adopted some foreign deities and cults, since they communicate with so many different cultures, think Egyptian deities in the Greek pantheon). more background. there’s another port, Cyrenne i think it’s called, which is basically a navy base under the King’s control. their lord is.. notorious for his wine consumption, like there are jokes about it. anyway their navy is a legit threat for Ilmarene... until a mutiny happens (because crisis), and long story short the lord is found literally drowned in a barrel of wine, feet up, etc... for the aesthetics, Almaste’s coat of arms is a golden eagle on a black background, they also have those famous black horses (looks unashamedly like a Friesian). Cyrenne has a lighthouse, and i think Ilmarene has either a mermaid or some constellation

[reyneclaw]

i feel terribly guilty for not working on laura's arc (i had an idea...) but there's that project, it's basically... nothing much, doesn't hold much morals or deep meaning, i only started because i could, and now i don't even like it and why does it keep coming back.

basically. late medieval / early renaissance, low fantasy, there are witches but witchcraft doesn't work (unless you believe in it, then maybe... well, there's no magic that's officially tied into the world or works for everyone).

The kingdom. Without specifying the name. Consists of several Marks loosely tied together. Is currently in an economic crisis due to hyperinflation due to (many political reasons), basically silver suddenly costs more than gold and it's all... pretty serious.

Almaste, the capital, has a princess, 14 or 15y o, wants to marry her off to the lord of Ilmarene, one of the Marks, to strengthen their alliance (it's historically a... strained relationship between those two). Is probably hit the hardest by the crisis (the people, of course, the royals keep their white peacocks and whatnot).

Ilmarene does not want the alliance or the marriage, is sick of Almaste for (a lot of historical reasons). Wants independence, to be a kingdom in their own right. Besides, the lord personally doesn't want that marriage for (personal reasons, he's like 40+, she's a child, he already has a partner, won't betray his love).

It starts when the princess runs away. To Ilmarene, to the lord whom she actually loves (for the sole reason he has blue eyes apparently, they haven't spent too much time together or know each other very well).

The king goes apeshit, the princess makes it to Ilmarene, discovering in the process they're not a princess or a girl, they're nonbinary (sorry for previously referring to them as female idk how to transition smoothly, anyway they use a neutral pronoun now). Now Ilmarene doesn't know what to do with them, and several days later, Almaste finds out where they are and apparently declares war bc of assumed kidnapping.

Now Ilmarene is only a kingdom for the next 30 or so years because they don't, and can't have an heir, which is also a Big Problem...

[reyneclaw]

the symbol of ilmarene is understandably... a mermaid a fishwhore when the mermaid sings. that’s the saying. when the mermaid sings... what should happen? when the king comes back... that’s lotr...  can’t believe im back to it. well, at least, the main advantage of fantasy world-building is that you can ditch the homophobia altogether. yes the lord is gay, deal with it. i’m also back to reading german poetry. uhland. he’s... it’s folklore, and it’s good folklore, with no relation to... anything yet. they can’t take him from us. it’s ballads and all... all the shit i love. it’s comforting. to read in german after... being exposed to all the spanish and all the nervousness that comes with it. yeah im nervous, first of all what if they reject me (this! is! a lie!!!), and then... yeah. sorry. but i do feel a little uneasy. oh we’re all going to die anyway what’s the point, but there is a difference, how you’re going to die...  it’s okay. it’s your first time. of course anyone would feel the same.

[reyneclaw]

smth to take into account when creating fantasy settings (ot describing a real one), in terms of climate. it’s a little more.. intricate than how cold/hot it gets. humidity and probably air pressure. they say you grow gills if you’ve lived in spb long enough. i like that. that type of weather when it’s around 0C (it’s not that cold), just enough for snow alternatively melting and falling again (for some reason the same temperature with snow feels warmer than without it). and it must be wet and preferably foggy. the aesthetic. i’d feel uncomfortable in a setting that’s.. too bright and too sunny. in any mountainous setting.  ilmarene architecturally resembles vienna (wiener moderne - clearly defined lines, lots of white) but stinks of fish, lol. cause of the sea. and gets loads of fog.  i’m not sure that would work out irl, they’re too far down south and what im trying to create still looks like england. well that’s what fantasy is for :) 

[reyneclaw]

one last thing before i forget reverse symbolism the coat of arms of alma features an eagle rising in flight, no idk how to draw this, every heraldic eagle i’ve seen was depicted displayed.  they’re a loosely conservative faction. the coat of arms of ilmarene features an anchor. they’re the progressive faction. see the irony huh and i stand by cypresses and lilies for ilmarene/orange trees and roses for almaste, that doesn’t mean roses won’t grow in ilmarene, they do, but it’s symbolic af

[reyneclaw]

also, the tension between estel and isabel. enemies to lovers yeah. not to blame anyone, but she’s been brought up a princess and she isn’t going to be treated like one in ilmarene. she will certainly behave.. as any spoiled and entitled child would. estel isn’t going to put up with this.  consider she’s now disguised as one of estel’s ladies in waiting. she’s disappointed in vincent bc she ran away for his sake and he refuses to kiss her (surprise lol). also the 400 miles journey in disguise isn’t exactly a leisure trip. she wanted to help him and he is failing all of her expectations.  the drama starts when the news arrive that the queen is dead. poisoned. her mother and her only ally back there. ofc this also triggers more drama in almaste. seems like estel is kinda wrong. but nope. they’ll both change