#tirel

[fried-milk-bun]

WIP Time!

I thought it was high time I let you know I'm still alive! So! Here's an excerpt from my current WIP, the title for which I've yet decided. For context, it's basically a revamp of my own fic in the searing sands, so it obviously strays from canon where everyone lives and Tirzad is a BAMF. I will not be told off from fixing canon. Anyway!

Excerpt from "and then thy demons ruleth not thy desolate heart":

“Do you think they’ll be back?” Tirzad found himself asking anxiously. Jebrael seemed to regard him for a moment. It felt both unfair and unsettling how his mask concealed any emotion that could have painted his face, but for all that even his mouth seemed dreadfully inexpressive. To Tirzad’s dismay, the sigh Jebrael released held some amount of impatience, bordering on a huff. “The ruins go ever-deeper. There is no ‘going back’, only pressing forward.” And was that not why Tirzad often regretted choosing him over his many other, certainly less brusque-mannered candidates? Tirzad was the one to huff, clearly appalled. He tried to think of something to say in retaliation, but his inexperience with these things made him bite his tongue. He placed his pack down and began rummaging through his things, procuring his trusty journal and a pen from its leathered depths. Only when he sat down to begin sketching a map of the areas they’d covered thus far did he think to open his mouth again. “You’d think of watching your tongue next time, once I’ve decided that Aether proves to be a better guide than you are,” he said pointedly.

[kureis-writing-hell]

Where the Sand Blows

After finishing the golden slumber quest in genshin I decided it needs a bit more flavor and added gay spice. And some tragedy considering the end of that quest.

Tirzad is back at the ruin where everything ended and reflects about the last few months. It's only him, the sand, and a mad man that keeps the place somehow safe.

Jebrael x Tirzad undertones hehe.

Well, people at the Aaru village did say that there was a Keeper living at the ruins nowadays. Surprisingly, and suspiciously, but he really was there, alive, having a little camp. In the middle of nowhere. In a place that Tirzad remembered as the most dangerous, traumatizing, full of monsters and thugs place in Sumeru. And he was there, a lonely, old man. Alone. And out of his mind, if the villagers were right.

No, they probably were. They have been dealing with people like that for years now. They could recognize a lost mind with closed eyes and standing so far away that the person was no bigger than a grain of sand, probably. At least, that was how Tirzad understood it.

Well, the presence of the old man was still, somehow, a blessing. He really did scare all the monsters and the Eremites away from the ruins. Which made it easier to find an expedition team that was willing to travel there with Tirzad. Which saved the scholar so much energy and nerves before even setting out. Which, again, was a blessing. Coming back here was already unnerving as it was.

After Akasha was shut down and the people of Sumeru got their dreams back, Tirzad did not dream happily. When he wasn't so exhausted that he fell into the bed to have a dreamless rest, he experienced the worst nightmares from his first trip to the desert. The danger, the frustration. The heat. And, most importantly, the frantic escape that ended with one of his guards gone from this world.

He blamed himself. All those months, he blamed himself quietly even though he knew he couldn't do anything back then to save Jebrael. Or help his daughter. Or even turn this situation for better for himself.

Which, as the regular folk said, sucked ass hard.

That's why he was glad that at least the monsters were gone from the area. This way, he could (bravely!) wander off from the loud company he got for himself to be alone. They were a good bunch of workers, but it was impossible to focus around them, and in the camp that they set in the front of the entrance to the ruins. Tirzad needed all the focus he could get. He was trying to get more knowledge about King Deshret and the Golden Slumber and everything connected to this case. He needed to. After publishing his first paper, it became an obsession, for sure.

No, it had nothing to do with the unwillingness to get closer to any of those people again. Not at all.

In the chaos of his first expedition, he missed so much knowledge left in the aged walls. Runes, old pergamins, hieroglyphics, and more. Now, he had all the time to copy them, decipher them, and try to analyze them.

Which, again, led him to send his thanks to the old man inhabiting the ruins.

Because Tirzad was still… reasonable. He didn't try to get closer to the man. If he really was out of his mind, then he could even take Tirzad for an enemy. He could carry a sickness, too. Tirzad was not risking it. And, thankfully, the man seemed to share the sentiment. He only kept observing Tirzad from afar when the scholar had his trips around the ruins. Nothing more.

The stranger was always covered in tattered clothes. He looked like a mummy. Tirzad was glad he didn't want to approach him. The simple sight of that stranger observing him was enough to give the scholar more nightmares.

Which didn't go away when they arrived at the ruins. Tirzad did hope they would, that coming back to this place would serve him a closure or at least speak to his consciousness. But it didn't. It seemed that being there only worsened his sleeping condition. Which did not help him focus on his study.

Tirzad was sitting under one of the statues of the guards, hiding in its shadow. Logically, he knew he should come back to the camp for midday to hide from the sun, drink water, and eat something, but he couldn't make himself move a muscle. He was looking at the seemingly hollow, large space that went far, far under his feet, and kept recalling how magnificent it looked when all the ruins showed itself to his eyes the first time. He doubted he would ever see that again. The ruins of Khaj-Nisut were most likely swallowed by Samail's madness, or at least that was Tirzad's theory. He really, really wanted to try and bring them back again, but without the Traveler's skill, it was futile. So he sat there. Drowning himself in his thoughts.

The ache he was experiencing in his chest was somehow therapeutic, or he liked to think so.

He wondered if, maybe, Jebrael was still in there. Fighting an endless fight with Samail to keep Jeht, Tirzad, and everyone else in this world safe from the spreading madness of the other man. It was a romantic thought, one that honestly never sneaked into Tirzad's mind, spoiling it with hope. Logically, he knew Jebrael was dead. He went into the Golden Slumber on his own. His body was gone. He wasn't coming back, so Tirzad could keep blaming himself and dreaming horrible nightmares.

The scholar groaned and rubbed his face, trying to get rid of the self-loathing thoughts. It wasn't like him. He was a coward and a quitter (not anymore!), but he was never a crybaby about it. He wasn't ever sentimental. All that should matter to him right now was his study and figuring out the truth behind King Deshret's rule.

"Sand storm."

A scratchy voice ripped into Tirzad's brain, making him jump on the sand. He turned around, with his heart pondering in his chest, expecting to see an Eremite that somehow got their way into the ruins. Ready to run for his life, he looked behind himself and saw the Keeper.

He stood hunched close enough for Tirzad to hear him, but far away so that the unspoken rule of not approaching each other wasn't broken. There was a staff in his hand that he most likely used to wander around the ruins easily, considering his fragile silhouette. Tirzad could see a beard escaping the rugs, but that was it. His whole face, just as the body, was covered. Tirzad couldn't even see his eyes, hidden in the shadow of the cloth. He doubted he could see them even if the Keeper stood right in front of him.

"What?" Tirzad responded, not too polite, frantically wiping his wet eyes.

"Sand storm coming. It can be violent here. Go back." His voice sounded like he hadn't used it a long, long time. Considering the man was mad and living as a hermit, Tirzad wasn't surprised.

"The sky is pristine!" Taken by surprise, the scholar pointed at the sky angrily. No one was supposed to interrupt him when he was doing his… his research!

"It will come soon. Go back."

Tirzad got red on his face immediately, anger rising in his chest. He knew it was useless to argue with a mad man. He knew it could be dangerous. But he wasn't going to listen to a Keeper!

"I'm not leaving yet, I have enough work as it is!"

The scholar got up, faced the Keeper and turned away, stomping in an unknown direction.

The Keeper looked after him for a moment, before turning away in an opposite way and leaving to find a shelter.

.

The storm, of course, came.

It came unexpectedly, suddenly, and scared the shit out of Tirzad. The sky got red within seconds and the wind began blowing so hard he feared he would be blown away. It kept throwing sharp sand into his face, making it unable to look up for more than a few seconds. He knew there was a ruin somewhere close, he was looking at it mere minutes ago, but right now he didn’t even have an idea which direction it was. Stepping carefully, to not slip on the sand under his feet, he was trying to get there. Unsuccessfully.

And then, it got black. The world got swallowed by darkness so black Tirzad couldn’t even see the tip of his nose anymore. The wind kept blowing around, making haunting sounds in the ruins akin to screams and wails. He stood there, in the middle of that overwhelming darkness, and felt his heart slowly getting swallowed by it too.

To say he was terrified was an underestimation. His legs started shaking so badly that he feared to make another step. He couldn’t breath, the sand getting into every crook of his body. His body, that felt like a gelatin, like it was made out of slime. And all he could think about was not to get into the shelter, it wasn’t the horrible outcome of being covered under the sand and suffocating to death. It was the escape from Khaj-Nisut, the darkness chasing them, Samail’s madness trying to eat them alive and…

And there was a voice, coming through the darkness. Seeping into Tirzad’s head like the last rope of hope. Like someone, again, came to rescue him, like he was saved.

“I’ll protect you!”

As if his body moved on its own, Tirzad turned towards the source of voice. Or was it really? Maybe the wind was playing with his mind, or maybe he went mad after all? A cozy, warm place at the Aaru Village didn’t seem so horrible at this point.

“Come on! Move!”

Move. It was easy to say, but his legs felt ten times heavier than usual. It was easier to just fall down and die under the sand. At last he would join the man that died because of him. It would be so easy. Not only now. It would end his lifetime of suffering just like that.

“Are you mad?!”

A bunch of tattered clothes suddenly showed up in his face, jumping out of the darkness like a ghost. Tirzad screamed, tried to make a step back but his legs were really stuck, covered by sand almost up to his knees. The Keeper grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip, way, way stronger than someone old should be able to muster, and pulled him out of the coffin of the desert. Then, without a word, the man threw him over his shoulder as if Tirzad weighed nothing and ran towards the ruins.

The wind pushed them both inside. The man lost his balance, threw Tirzad on the rocks inside and hit the floor himself. Tirzad felt his glasses crack, coughed out a bunch of dust and started getting sand out of his eyes and nose. He cursed the man under his nose, annoyed by his aching bones, but quickly stopped. His brain was overheating. He couldn’t believe what just happened.

The Keeper got himself up and stepped closer to the scholar. Tirzad looked up at him, glasses half broken and sand still in places where it shouldn’t be. The wind kept howling outside and it felt like it was the end of the world.

Yet, Tirzad looked at the man before him and couldn’t believe his imagination. The Keeper helped him stand up and Tirzad still couldn’t take his eyes off of him. Then, the man pointed at a small camp he set up inside of the ruin, a cozy looking fire and bed.

“I have water,” he hummed with that broken, unused voice, gesticulating with his hand.

And that was when Tirzad launched himself at the Keeper. The man, surprised, stepped back and tried to keep his distance, while Tirzad followed him quickly, trying to grab for his face. Trying to throw the old clothes off. He didn’t speak up. He looked at the man with wide eyes, his hat was gone, his hair was all over the place. He must’ve looked mad at least, but he didn’t care.

When the Keeper hit the wall with his back he finally straightened, showing his whole height. He was for sure a desert dweller. There was no mistake in that. Tirzad jumped at him, slapped at the huge hands that were trying to push him away and finally got a hold on the clothes covering the other man’s face. And he didn’t intend on letting them go.

Pulling, he slowed down, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He knew his brain was playing tricks on him. He knew the hope was futile, and the disappointment would really throw him into madness. But he couldn’t stop now.

The Keeper let him do his thing finally, giving up any struggle. The clothes slowly revealed his face.

Dark hair, leaning towards a strong blue, messy and dirty after months in the desert. Confused, but analyzing, hooded eyes, that Tirzad honestly saw only once before. Nose and lips that he knew, that were the most annoying, unnerving lips he ever met. A scar on the right cheek, not covered by the unkept beard that was left to grow on its own.

Tirzad must have looked pathetic. Mad and pathetic. His wide eyes, full of hope, got wet within seconds. He half smiled, half grimaced, because while he recognized the face before him, it looked terrible. Collapsed and lost. Nothing like he could remember. But it was still, still the same face, the face of a man that was dead to everyone for the past months. A man that haunted Tirzad’s dreams up to this day.

“Jebrael…?” sighed the scholar. It was a fragile word, fragile breath even. Full of fear of losing the only good dream Tirzad had since the Akasha allowed him to dream.

The other man frowned, looking down on him. His eyes did not spark, but were obviously analyzing this whole situation. The man that wore Jebrael’s face tilted his head slightly, finally putting his hands over Tirzad’s shaking ones that were stuck in one position, gripping on the old clothes like losing them would also mean losing his own sanity.

“Who’s… Jebrael?”

[unetealombre]

[goldstarknight]

MtG Phyrexia: All will Be One x Octopath Traveler (2023)

🔊 This one has sound. 🔊

In case you couldn't tell, I really like the Phyrexians. :)

Got back into Blender for this one and learned a ton of stuff about lighting, atmosphere, fluid simulation, modeling and even a little audio editing. Those faces in the background? First time I digitally modeled something. This was even more work than the Crimson Vow one, but it really paid off.

Maybe I'll do something like that again when I forgot how much work this one was. ^^"

(The music is 'Intro of GODWAVE' by Michiko Naruke from the game Half-Minute Hero: The Second Coming.)

[necroticboop]

MAGIC: THE GATHERING : ↳ ❝ I was not chosen for my faith in the gods. Sometimes the gods must put their faith in us. ❞

[xantchaslegacy]

[hyralc]

my localization of mtgjp's comic

[littjara-mirrorlake]

I've been wondering about Elspeth's relationship to the city of New Capenna. It was meant to be a kind of "homecoming" when she visited the city, and she created a sense of family for herself with Giada and Vivien, but I can't help remembering that Elspeth herself did not in fact come from the city–and the disconnect she feels from the city's culture and society reflects that.

Elspeth's ancestors were not the ones lucky or privileged enough to take the elevators up to New Capenna, while the Phyrexians were invading. Hers were the ones that the elevators left behind, to remain outside with the danger that threatened their world, abandoned by both angels and demons.

After all, Elspeth didn't grow up in a ritzy apartment in Park Heights, or even a fraught but Phyrexian-free working-class neighborhood in the Caldaia. She grew up imprisoned with Phyrexians out in the wastes who took out their personal torments on her family. New Capenna's promise of safety to the Capennan people never applied to them.

How must that have felt, for a knight who has always fought for home and the protection of the weak?

To Elspeth's people, the city of New Capenna was never a beacon of hope, but a broken promise.

[elspeth-tirel]

Need to have Elspeth on Kamigawa because she's probably the most technologically illiterate planeswalker.

[octopodian]

this is their dynamic to me.

(referencing this comic)

[incorrect-mtg]

Ashiok: Here, something of comfort during these trying times.

Elspeth:... What did you just give me?

Ashiok: The heebie jeebies.

Elspeth: I don't want them!

Ashiok: No take backs, I'm afraid. Bye~

[fried-milk-bun]

All I know, is that by some miracle that I never deserved,

you came into my life, and into the storm with me

and I will never be the same again.

[xfhsfh]

This is French culture at its peak

[jasper-the-menace]

[grimecrow]

How it’s gonna go down in March of the Machines!

[necroticboop]

❝ Elspeth shone like a sixth sun, inspiring hope in the Mirrans and terror in New Phyrexia. ❞