#jespar dal varek

[blue-creations28]

Jespar Dal'Varek fanart bc i've never moved on

[the-golden-eyed-prophet]

Pass the blunt, Prophet

[laserandom]

So I played Enderal. It's only now that my hands have reached him. I'm thrilled. And I'm also thrilled with the charismatic adventurer Jespar. Well, it was born. pairing: Prophet/Jespar Dal`Varek

the full version of the art will not be here

[a-whiff-of-a-dream]

Thanks again @not-so-blue for tagging, I know its a lil late xD

Tagging: @livingvicariouslee even tho she has been tagged already, but whatever xD

Do you play any instruments? Nope, tried to teach myself how to play the gituar, but boy did this not work out xD

Favorite book characters? Jespar Dal Varek (The first Enderal Book by Nicolas Lietzau)

What's your star sign? Virgooooo

Favorite color schemes? Greens and browns and beiges, but I also love love love all pastels

Naps or long sleep? Long sleeps, if I nap i literally cannot fall asleep at night

What languages do you speak? German and english, even tho I also had french and spanish classes in school

Dreams/aspirations? To be able to write as much as I used to again and get my books published

Long or short hair? Both? I have this thing, where i just cut my hair to a bob once a year (I just did it two days ago again) and then let it grow out for aprox. a year

Tea or coffee? Coffee for sure

Bring a book character to life or go into a fictional world? If I could I would go into my own fictional world

Three ships? Handers (DA2) // Crowley and Aziraphale (Good Omens) // HoF x Alistair (DAO)

First ship ever? I guess it was Katara and Aang?

Last song? Männer sind Schweine - Die Ärzte

Last movie? I guess it was Twilight with my best friend?

Currently reading? So much at the same time, but mainly The Stolen Throne by David Gaider (I wish I would read more again, but im in a slumb)

Currently consuming? A german podcast called Gästeliste Geisterbahn

Currently craving? Another Coffee and the curry i had last friday

[minnimari]

I'm always unsure wether Jespar has white or grey hair.. Here he and Mya relax by the lake infront of Ark. Forgot the name >.<

I once dared to use watercolours and I am impressed, how meditative it is to paint with them.

[secretsigil]

Original (Colored):

Original (Full Pencil Sketch):

[jhara-ivez]

Hush, love, hush

He hadn’t given any explanation to the Holy Order when he suddenly disappeared. And now they want to know. The questions are what he expected them to be like. What happened, why didn't he tell them, where has he been, why has he come back, what the hell. Jespar gets irritated and nervous because it feels like he's on trial, and he's trying to explain but they won’t meet him halfway. Only Merrâyil has a look of barely hidden sympathy on his face, so maybe he knows. Jhara brought back the stone so he must have told him bits and pieces. The others though aren't that forgiving. Arantheal dismisses him half an hour later with a cold glance. And Jespar isn't even quite sure if what he told them is true. That he came back because it is the right thing to do. It feels pretentious. And wrong. But what else can he do. Even if he had wanted to leave, what difference would it make in the end.  So instead he would do this and think about his next move then. When all this is over. He desperately hopes that this will be over at some point. Otherwise his former theory of him being just cursed since birth would sound rather convincing again. But he can worry about that later. Merrâyil wants him to carry out a task. And that task brings him back to the really big problem at hand.

Jespar finds the house soon enough. It's right opposite the Emporium and a tired looking keeper is standing beside the door, eyeing him suspiciously. “I am allowed to be here. I have to see the prophet. Merrâyil wants to talk to him,” Jespar assures him and the keeper relaxes a bit. “Go ahead then”, he says, but Jespar fishes his pipe out of his pockets and starts to prepare it. “Yes. I'll just... I'm sure he wouldn't mind a few more minutes of peace and quiet.” Or maybe you are just a coward The keeper doesn't reply. Instead he nods in greeting to someone behind Jespar. When he turns around he can see the sad girl walking up to him. She has her sword shouldered and her armour polished. “Dal' Varek?” she asks, and for some reason Jespar didn't expect her to remember his name.  “That's me”, Jespar replies and it sounds cocky, even though he doesn't feel cocky at all. “A shame you weren't here when the attack happened. We would have been thankful for a little help. Where have you been?” the girl asks. “I had to be somewhere,” Jespar lies. “It was important.” When he says it, he realises it only sounds worse: like he has things to cover up. Which he has. But these keepers don't need to know that.   „I understand.“ She isn’t being malicious saying it, which is surprising. After all the girl probably sees him as a womanising asshole just like all the others do, but regardless she’s surprisingly civil, friendly even. Maybe Jhara filled her in on the circumstances and she knows. Maybe Jhara told her some sorry tale of Jespar Dal' Varek losing his only remaining sister, falling down a rabbit hole of drugs and booze and in the process of it poor Jespar lost everything he had left. Maybe he did that out of spite. Or maybe he did that because she grew important to him and it's only natural to tell your...your friend about things that make you angry. And sad. Jespar isn't sure. “Are you here to wake him up?”, she then continues and vaguely motions to the building behind them. “That's what I was planning, yes.” Her face falls a bit as he answers. Clearly she hoped to take over that task. Jespar tries to pretend that he doesn't notice, but he does. “You've known him for a long time, right?”, she says, her hand coming up to rub her neck. He stares at her in incomprehension. She stares back rather expectantly. “...I... What do you mean?”, he asks. She pushes some of her hair from over her eyes and smiles a sheepish smile. “I'm sorry. You guys just seem to have this... this connection. The way he speaks of you – I thought... Well, never mind.” Does he? He feels his chest swelling up from her words – But then the nagging at the back of his brain follows. Jhara has no reason to still say one good word about him. Not after the stunt Jespar pulled that night. He fucked up, and it's even more pathetic now, because he only realized it fully when he vomited by the side of the road, trying to make it all stop. Far away from Ark, alone and miserable with the chilly air clawing at his skin, limbs feeling heavy with millions of tiny insects crawling all over his skin, because dust doesn't go well together with too much booze.   “It will go well,” the girl now muses. “He will be happy to see you.” I don’t think so. Jespar sucks in smoke. His hands feel sweaty for no reason. The girl watches with her sad eyes and worries on her bottom lip. Something seems... wrong. “He will probably just be overwhelmed,” she then says after a few seconds. And suddenly he recognizes that off-look on her face. She has fucked up too. In what way he doesn't know but that's not important now, and it's none of his business anyway. Jespar just hopes she is right. He really does. After a few minutes of shared silence his pipe has gone cold. The unofficial signal to confront the situation. Jespar looks up to the building again in which the prophet currently is said to be staying. Merrâyil explained that he told Jhara to sleep. He was quite strict about it. Just go sleep. Jespar somehow doubts that Jhara has a good time in there. Regenerating. Healing. Funny really, Jespar thinks, his mind flashing back to earlier, when he found Jhara nearly falling asleep on the bench in the pyrean train as they waited to arrive at the Halfmoon isle – that’s how exhausted he was, eyelids drooping. But still he didn't sleep. Not even when they rearranged and settled down on the dusty beds in the next room. He doubts Jhara has had a proper night’s sleep since he got stranded on that desolated beach: he naps here and there, and that’s it. He’s alert, he’s always ready to run. Therefore, Jespar concludes, this here is more of a forced imprisonment for his own good. He puts away his pipe. “Well then...” “Good luck,” the girls says, brushing strands of her hair away. A nervous habit of hers maybe? Jespar only nods and turns to open the massive wooden door that still separates him from his impending doom. The big sitting room is quite busy when he closes the door behind him. A few novices stand around, all looking groggy and irritated. Some nod at him somewhat cordially. Others are eyeing him but clearly nothing sparks up in their brain.  They don't want him around but that's just as well. “Will he ever stop moaning? I swear I didn't get any sleep the last four hours!”, a petite and pretty girl with long brown hair mutters, just walking around the corner. She falls silent once she sees him standing there.   “Where is the prophet?”, Jespar asks, coming straight to the point. “Just down the corridor. To the left. It's the last room.” She doesn't smile but seems somewhat relieved. He thanks her and walks down the left corridor. It feels like an eternity until he reaches the aforementioned door. But instead of entering he's standing still, taking in the view. There are dark brownish handprints near the handle and streaks and splashes on the wood. It stands out in contrast to the otherwise clean and polished hallway. On the floor is a tray with food – bread, sausage, cheese and some kind of stew – it's untouched. Maybe because Jhara doesn't like any of it. Maybe because he didn't notice it is there. You are stalling. His inner voice is right but he keeps eyeing the door. He is behind that barrier. And he won't be pleased to see him. There is an ache in Jespar's chest at the thought. Pathetic. He flinches when suddenly a scream comes from behind the wood. Inhaling sharply he rips the door open only to find pieces of armour, Jhara's blood-drenched elbow cop, knee-poleyn and highly padded vest, blocking the way. He steps over them, avoiding the weapons as well which were carelessly thrown on the floor. The rest of his belongings lies in a pile next to the bed. Time to disturb the sleeping dogs. The curtains are open, letting a bit of light in, the leather belt Jhara usually wears on the thigh with the sheath for the poisoned knifes is on the bed stand and it's empty, and Jhara... is under the covers. And then Jespar is already there, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Jhara looks pale. His eyes are closed but he's not asleep. In fact, he looks exactly like he did when he woke up after Coarek left them to die on that damn raft.  Frozen. As if his whole upper body is paralysed, making it hard to breathe for him. “... Save them. We need to save them... need to light the Beacon...”, he mumbles and his breaths are shallow at best. “What, but... but we will! You found the Black Stones, and we'll use them, no matter how hard this Coarek tries to stop us.” Jespar's tone is soothing, or at least he tries it to be. His hand somehow found it's place on Jhara's shoulder. “But first of all, you should calm down a little.” That last part seems to be too much. Somehow from one moment to the other Jhara is very much awake, turning his head to look at the hand on his shoulder and then glaring at Jespar with unhidden fury. “Fuck off, Jespar.” But Jespar doesn't move. He sits there, stupidly, awkwardly. And he knew it, didn't he? That this is a very bad idea. “Are you deaf?! I said: Fuck off!”, Jhara now barks, sitting up quickly and finally Jespar jumps up to give him space. “And why are you even here?!” Jespar's tongue seems to be numb. At the same time his head doesn't offer anything he could say to appease the man in front of him, who now stands up to appear bigger than he actually is, although he doesn't really need it right now. He's terrifying enough as it is. “I...”, Jespar begins, taking another step back. And somehow that seems to help a bit. “Shock of shocks, because I heard you screaming.” No reaction. “Plus... Look, about that talk we had in the Silver Cloud...” Jhara's eyes narrow dangerously and Jespar stops mid sentence. He now sees that the prophet is trying to put most of his weight on his right leg. The other one is damaged, with untreated wounds showing through the bloodied fabric of his pants. His face is smeared with dried blood too, but it doesn't belong to him. Jespar is glad it doesn't. At the same time it's still... terrifying. He heard the people talk about a beast unleashed during the attack, No one knows where it came from. They just know that it tore apart. A sign from Malphas or a demon come to signal the Order's downfall? Jespar knows. “Honestly, you look like shit”; he observes and Jhara flinches slightly. It hurts but he tries to hide it. He's tough. “Will you hear me out? I'll leave you alone afterwards if you want that, but... just hear me out, please.” It's as close to begging as Jespar can get. And it feels weird. Jhara exhales but nods, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Well then. “Okay... So, as I said - It was a pretty disgraceful performance on my part. It's just that... The past few moons were a lot for me to deal with, let's put it that way”, he says, the words spilling from his lips. How often has he practised this speech in his head? “And what happened to Adila... It... it was the last straw. I guess what I'm trying to say is... sorry. I said a lot of bullshit down there, which you didn't deserve.” There. There. He said it. But what follows is silence. At least one minute of silence, filled to the brim with tension, while Jhara continues to glare at him. Just as the tension becomes unbearable the prophet breaks the eye contact. “Was it the truth, though? That you would have sold me to Coarek for a handful of pennies?” He looks away at the wall, but Jespar can see the way his lips twitch downwards. And the words bite. “What? No, of course not!”, Jespar rushes out, a tad bit to fast. Jhara shakes his head disbelievingly. “Stop lying”, he just says and he sounds tired.   “Please, just... let's not make this more awkward than it already is, okay?  You've... become important to me, you really have.” Again silence starts to stretch between them. But this time Jespar interferes. “So - are we good?” It's an easy question with just two possible answers, yes or no. Yet Jhara decides to ignore that fact. “You’d love for me to punch your lights out, huh?”, he all but snarls, finally letting go of his defensive posture and gritting his teeth. So that's that then. Jespar feels his insides knotting tight. What he did was cruel and vile and can't be forgiven. Jhara is still angry. He gets that. Better let it be then. He doesn't want to screw this up any further and he also doesn't want to fight with Jhara. But he doesn't get far in his attempt to leave the room. Jhara is quick to react when all Jespar wants to do is vanishing. Instead his back hits the wall and pain flares up, leaving him momentarily breathless. And then Jhara is there, right in his space, hands firmly pressed against the wall right next to Jespar's head, effectively blocking every chance to escape. “Are we good?! What kind of a fucking stupid question is that?!”, the prophet barks, fury bubbling over. “You waltz in here after disappearing for fucking weeks, leaving me with no clue whatsoever, leaving me thinking: He killed himself and it's your fucking fault!” “I didn't-” “I can see that for fuck's sake! But you know what? Listen! Every fucking kid could have stabbed you in that condition! Drugged out of your mind? 'S fucking easy, you little piece of shit!” Jespar blinks, doesn't dare to speak. “And you know what's the worst thing?”, Jhara rages on, still angry and shivering. “The worst thing is that I thought about searching for your sorry ass. I didn't, but I damn nearly did. Fuck humanity, I need to find my friend who probably turned his brain to goo by the time I find him or fell overboard in an attempt to leave the country because he's a fucking idiot!” There’s an edge to his words, something painful that cuts through Jespar's skin like a sharp dagger. It’s only then that his actual words reach his brain, and Jespar suddenly feels breathless again even though the pain from hitting the wall is long gone. “You are a fucking idiot”, Jhara repeats. “And then this fucking army storms the city and all I think is: What if he's hiding here? What if he's still alive and hiding in plain sight and-” He breaks off there, takes a breath. It's obvious that he's too exhausted to keep up this adrenalin-filled state. “My point is that – That your own sister tried to kill you. That... justifies quite a lot. But... I got so fucking scared. And now you stand here like everything's fine and- Fucking hell, it would have been so much easier if you'd been just angry with me. But no. No. Instead you-” “Jhara. Stop”, Jespar finally cuts in. “Stop.” It works. Jhara takes in a shuddery breath. And he doesn't put up a fight when Jespar touches him this time and pulls him into an embrace. He's still rigid and shivering but he doesn't fight it. “I'm sorry, you hear me? I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”, Jespar says again and again, shushing him the best he can while Jhara's eyelashes brush against his neck. So he just keeps talking. Even if that means that he has to apologise a thousand times.   “You are the biggest idiot I've ever come across”, Jhara grumbles into Jespar's chest piece and while it's still sounding bitter and angry he can hear the relief beneath it. “I know.” I know, I know. Jhara's breathing evens out after a while but for some reason Jespar doesn't want to let go yet. Jhara too doesn't seem very eager to get away from him for now. Probably just because he would collapse to the ground otherwise. “So... how are you?” Jespar can't help but laugh a little. It's an exhausted laugh because it's just ridiculous, isn't it? “What, after all that you ask me how I am? You never stop surprising me, I'll give you that.” “..it's what I'm good at..” “True. But hmm, ...how am I...? Honestly, I don't think I've realized, let alone "processed" what happened to Adila. I just... try to keep going, I guess.” Jhara's nose presses against his jaw. It's distracting. “...I'll have plenty of time for self-reproach after we've lit this machine out there. No matter how big my part was in what Adila became, the High Ones used her depression to trick her into doing what she did. And they will pay for that.” Jhara nods tiredly. He's calm now. There's no need to keep up the embrace. Jespar is very aware of that fact. And maybe Jhara is too because he then takes a step back, staggers and nearly collapses on the edge of the bed again. He's hurt. He needs someone to take care of these wounds. Why did no one care? Why did they left him on his own like that? “You better get that treated as soon as possible.” It really looks nasty. And what if it inflames?   “I can get someone to come here. A healer”, Jespar offers but Jhara only shakes his head with a small laugh. “I have potions. I don't need your help.” “... Sure. Right. Sorry. I just... sorry. Why didn't you use them when-” “Was too tired.” “Oh.” Again, silence. But this time it's not that unpleasant any more. Jhara clearly still needs a bit of time for himself so it would be alright to leave him alone now. Jespar takes in a breath. Then Merrâyil's task comes back to his mind. “Oh... right. I nearly forgot, but Sha'Rim and The Archmagister asked for you. It's about this "Numinos"-thing. Best you go see them as soon as possible.” Jhara hums. “They are in the Chronicum.” Jhara hums again. He's rummaging in one of his satchels but it's all slowed down. He doesn't want to waste energy. Jespar watches for a few seconds. Then he feels stupid and out of place. “I.. I'll leave you to it then. We'll catch up later, right?” He doesn't answer, doesn't hum, instead Jespar sees him downing a flask containing an ominous red-brownish looking liquid. And it seems to taste pretty bad because Jhara immediately flinches. You are stalling again. But he'd rather stay if he's honest with himself. Where Jhara is, because the urge to stay away is nearly gone now and everything is fine. Well, mostly anyway. Still he coaxes himself to step up to the door. Just as he touches the handle a thought comes back to him and he turns around. “Jhara?” The prophet looks his way. “Calia, that sad-looking girl. How do you feel about her?” It's a risky question. He knows that. Then again he knows of that kiléan woman. Jhara was head over heels for her. And Calia? She's a good girl. A keeper on top of that. Jhara seems indifferent though. He shrugs. Uninterested. Cold. Oh damn, she must have fucked up big time too. But as sad as it is, Jespar feels like he can breathe easier for the first time in weeks.

[annoyed-galaxy]

“I found the old Starling-look-alike place while traveling. Tikrid and I were heading to two different places looking for things for Captain Wayfinder and the alchemist from Dawnstar when I stumbled upon the old campsite I woke up at. Tikrid was amazed by this place. I asked her what it was. She explained to me that these were Dwemer ruins. When I looked confused she explained that Dwemer were an ancient race with magnificent technology that disappeared. No one knows what happened to them, but their ruins and technology remains behind for everyone to see. Sounds almost exactly like the Starlings.

Despite the freezing cold, I can make a pretty damn good fire and since I have a lovely tent to keep all the cold out, I can actually relax. Not to mention that furry cloak I have. So waaarm.

Outside of the cave where we were supposed to find the magical ring were a pack of beautiful wolves. Apparently when I came here to Skyrim, I was gifted. Animals do not flee from nor fight me. I actually pet one and it seemed to like it. They even helped fight a Spriggan that was attacking Tikrid and I.

The cave we entered was small, but beautiful. Mystical almost. And of course the Spriggan outside should have warned of us of the Spriggan MATRON we had to fight. My lunar guardian defended Tikrid and I long enough for us to get behind her and attack her. That was the most dangerous thing in that cave. The ring was hidden in a half buried chest, but we got it.

On our way to the second location for Captain Wayfinder, Tikrid and I stumbled across another inn. We took advantage of the location and rested there for a bit. I met a few interesting people there.

I can’t remember the oaf’s name, but he was hammered. Completely drunk. What was funny is that he had barely had anything to drink. He explained that his hammer was enchanted; every time he used it, he got hammered. I asked why not just stop using it but he claimed he had not found a good replacement for her. I decided I would make him one because I really want that hammer now. Give it to Jespar when I return and make him use it. Oh the laughs I would have.

The next person I met was Ange the Song-Bearer. She was a bard who simply wished to share the beauty of music to anyone who would listen. We performed a little song together and that got me a free room from the innkeeper. It got her free drinks which she shared with me. Of course it was mead or ale and I was disappointed. It turns out Skyrim is lacking in wine.

The next person I talked to was called Moris the Draugr. I have no idea what a draugr was, but from what he explained, it was basically an undead person. He was once known as Moris the Living Draugr but due to an embarrassing accident involving his injuries and a snow bear licking his face, he became humiliated. He’s bitter bout it.

The last person I met was named Callen. She claimed to be in the area hunting horkers. When I asked why it’s because she was trying to find the best horker meat for a friend that was salty at her for ruining his soup one day. I was baffled but she told me there was a big one, big enough to take down a ship. I offered to help her and she thanked me. I told her I would meet her at the wreck of the ship once I finished what I was doing.

I rested for a bit in my room and dreamt about this painting that was hanging there. I don’t know why I dreamt of it, but I did. Not much to remember in that dream other than this angel was in it. I think I was in the Star City and she watched as Jespar and I looked down at Vyn and watched as the Cleansing killed everything.

Now, the next leg of my adventure was...interesting. Extremely. First off, we went into a place called the Forsaken Cave. Second, I got to experience the draugr in person. I did not like it. Caves creep me out and I was half expecting my vision to blur out and memories of the past or something come soaring past. That wasn’t the case luckily.

But it was still dark

and fucking terrifying.

But of course! That wasn’t all! Oh hell no! Because Clerissa Dal-fucking-Varek can’t catch a break. We’re in this stupid tomb for some “refined Void Salts” right? Well I didn’t particularly want to go into a place called the Forsaken Crypt only to be greeted by, what I assumed to be the master of this crypt.  

Tikrid and I were ambushed by him and four other draugrs. But you want to know something interesting? This fucking creature was shouting at us. Like words that were spells. What was more terrifying was that I understood what he said. I heard “force” and Tikrid and I were staggered. She was amazed and claimed that he was using the Thu’um the language of dragons. I stared at her in complete astonishment so long that I almost lost my head.

I had to focus on fighting and not what she just said because so much just ran through my head. We managed to finally killed them all. When I looked back at Tikrid, ready to ask her what she meant, she was paralyzed, looking at the large wall behind the draugr’s sarcophagus.

I looked at it and heard the chanting. I heard the chanting and then saw the pulsing blue symbols on the wall. Unlike Tikrid, I wasn’t paralyzed. I was drawn to those glowing symbols. As I got closer, the chanting got louder and the pulsing light blurred my vision until those symbols were the only thing I saw.

I looked at them and the symbols began to burn inside my mind.

Kill.

The symbols made the word “kill”. I felt some special power behind that word, like there was something more but I couldn’t access it. When I turned back to Tikrid, she looked at me with astonishment. She told me that this was a Word Wall. Something the dragons used to write down words. I told her that I understood the word, that it meant it kill. I tried reading the other words, but I could not focus on them, the current word still burning bright in my mind and eyes.

She was amazed that I was able to read the words and said I may have the power to understand dragons.

The only dragon I had ever met was in the far reaches of Enderal and as far as I could tell, it didn’t speak. Then again, I never fought it as I was too fucking afraid to fight a DRAGON! And now I have Tikrid telling me I can speak in the dragon language?

We went back to Nightgate Inn and my eyes are still burning with those symbols. The chanting had stopped once I read the word, but I could feel the feint thrumming in the back of my head. What have I gotten myself into?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰ 

Oh boy the plot thickens! More NPC’s, more adventuring, and a new power that Clerissa doesn’t even know the half of! Oh the fun she’s getting herself into.

[flailingdoodle]

:||||||

8||||||||||||

I read the words “daddy dal’varek” with my own two eyes bc of u how DARE...

i sincerely apologize…

[the-golden-eyed-prophet]

Random moments with Alok the Prophet

Alok: “JESPAR THERE BEEN AN EMERGENCY!!” Jespar: *walks over to see what the commotion is about.* “What?” Alok: *holding his lute, Aria like a baby and holding back tears* “IT’S HORRIBLE.. AWFUL EVEN..” Jespar: *confused* “What is wrong?” Alok: “HOW, can you NOT SEE?” *shows him Aria* Jespar: ... Jespar: Your lute is um shiny? 

Alok: YES BUT *points to very VERY small scratch on his lute* SOMEONE HURT MY BABY!! Jespar: ...

[the-golden-eyed-prophet]

When I said I wanted to be closer this wasn’t what I had in mind...

[the-golden-eyed-prophet]

a REALLY old comic I made years ago. Thought I should repost it since it’s kinda cute. 

[the-golden-eyed-prophet]

old watercolor painting of Alok and Jespar cuddling. I really liked this piece so I thought I’d repost it. 

[the-golden-eyed-prophet]

I saw this and honestly yea. that’s basically how those two are like. inspired by 

[the-golden-eyed-prophet]

[the-golden-eyed-prophet]

Alok lost that night of Uno.