#lightwarden wol

[eld-creative]

Pragma, The Unforgiven Lightwarden design

[thisteaistoosweet]

“When it all becomes too much to bear, seek me out at my abode, in the dark depths of the Tempest.

There you may complete your descent into madness with some dignity, far from prying eyes.

Until then. I bid you farewell, sin eater...”

{wip based on Emet’s lines above. Character and Sin Eater Design is @time-official }

[utatoners]

lightwarden philautia

[sapphire-scarletta-wol]

One brings shadow,one brings the light...

Bad end #1

My wol succumbing to the effects of the light inside her and turning into a lightwarden.

Honestly havent thought of a proper look for her lightwarden form though so i might come back to this one day

[fyllophobia]

dejected single father of one cockroach

[yshtolakisser]

your situationship turns into a horrific monster. wyd? (except for not cope well)

[carnivorous-arboretum]

bad end

[i'm a sucker for a lightwarden au hehe]

[diadoesart]

Found some older sketches about how Dia's sineater / lightwarden might look like. The corruption would physically start from her left eye because it's very sensitive/injured.

I think it'd be called Forgiven Desolation. Some of the elements of the design relate to her Azem's. The stained glass motif comes from my Azem's cane.

[buggleboos]

If light is so bad for you then why is it so yummy ?!

[varethane]

Sometimes I just, think about the whole lightwarden thing.

[hazelkjt]

Light Everlasting

Forgiven Burdens

[eld-creative]

Forgiven Vengeance

Design for @zola-no-kanojou

[arianwen44]

Don’t mind me… just imagining alternate universes for Llyr… 😭💙

[myreia]

FEBHYURARY XX: PRIMAL

The final day could not dawn, for there is no dawn in everlasting light. Nevertheless when the hour came, Ryne sought him out. She demanded he not go, tears brimming in her eyes. She clung to him desperately, stumbling over her words as she pressed a cartridge into his hand. Specially charged. Crafted to destroy the one they love, designed to prey on her single weakness. A single shot to the heart and it will all be over. He embraced her as he said his farewells, murmuring words of strength and courage he does not have. She will need it in the coming days. Ryne will be the last after him. The last to remain. The last to survive. He knows he will not return, and yet he must go. Some day soon—for Norvrandt’s are numbered—she will understand. And so he climbs the mountain where the primal lightwarden has made her nest. He cuts through her horde of light-corrupted minions, some distant part of his mind numbly acknowledging the twisted faces of friends he once knew. That is what she does; she does not bring death, but transposition. He does not flinch when their claws sink into him; nor does he pause when he strikes them all down. He is battered and bruised when he reaches the apex. Caked with blood and dirt, his gunblade dulled, his cartridges spent save for one. The air here is stale and still, the scent thick with the stench of primal magicks. She is nowhere to be seen. For a brief moment he wonders if he was mistaken, if she has abandoned her home. His heart beats. One, two. One, two. Blood pulsing in his veins, fear and hope and love thumping in his ears. The last shred of his humanity, and he is oh so alive— The creature with Aureia’s face bursts from below, a storm of ice and fire suspended in each hand. Her eyes glow vermilion in twisted mimicry of her natural deep red. Wings of darkness and light in perfect unison, an equilibrium she never achieved when she lived. Hair purged to white as it had been when she was first infected, the red streaks the only remnants of what it once was. Fingers turned to talons soaked in blood. So familiar, yet so alien—she has become a warped fracture of herself, everything he loved about her burnt out of her by blazing light.   He raises his blade and steels his mind. He has come here to slay her. All it takes is one shot. A shot he does not make. Time slows when the end comes, the passage of his mortal life stretched out in perpetuity. Her claws are a vice grip on his chin, the power of her magic scalding his eyes. She holds him in her unblinking ruby gaze as if transfixed, some memory within her ascended mind recalling what he was to her. He wishes for her to end it. If he but moves just a little… her claws would cut his throat… and he would deprive her of her greatest desire. But as he knows, she does not kill, she transforms. Even in this form her love for him burns fiercely. More fiercely than he can comprehend. It washes over him, powerful, overwhelming, the command to submit tugging at his mind, silencing the purpose he came to this mountain to fulfill— It is all gone in a burst of blue and red. Defeat has never tasted so sickeningly sweet.

[rotten-eclair]

Lightwarden

[fheros]

FORGIVEN RETRIBUTION