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Description

Aberforth's list of dislikes was long, and he had an entire sub-category dedicated to the weather. The sun burnt his fair skin, the wind messed up his hair, and rain-- rain was the absolute worst of all. Rain was wet.

He had been collecting firewood when the clouds had rolled in (or, more accurately, Tanakin had been collecting firewood. Aberforth had been trailing behind, claiming to be on the look-out for bears and refusing to touch anything that had been on the ground).

Then the rain had began to fall; fat, slow drops- the sort that indicates the imminent arrival of a torrential downpour. With not enough time to make it back to camp, the duo had retreated to the shelter of an oak tree to wait it out. Just in time, too, as now it was positively pouring.

Wearing a frown several shades darker than his usual one, Aberforth shrunk back against the trunk of the tree. They had been quick, but not quick enough, and his robes clung to his skin, heavy and sodden. He was also cold, his feet hurt, and, somewhere beneath the thick layer of clouds, the sun was setting. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse--

The lightning struck first- a silent whip crack that tore a scar across the dark sky, followed by a deep rumble of thunder, almost right overhead. Aberforth wasn't sure what made him jump more: the thunder or Tanakin's scream.

At first he thought her afraid. But when he shot her a side-glance, he found her looking to the sky, face peppered by raindrops finding their way through the leaves, and grinning ear-to-ear.

He almost didn't want to ask, but he did.

'What was that?'

Tanakin didn't respond- or even look at him. The expression on her face was unchanged as her wild eyes scanned the sky, waiting...

Moments later, the lightning struck again, and as the thunder roared in response, so did Tanakin.

Aberforth watched, horrified, and shuffled round the trunk a little to put some distance between himself and-- whatever this was.

Once the thunder died away to the sound of the rain, so did Tanakin.

'I love thunder,' she finally said with a content sigh, back to tracing the cloud patterns with her eyes.

Aberforth peered round at her from the other side of the tree.

'Do you... often scream at things you love?' he asked.

'I'm not screaming at the thunder,' she said, matter-of-factly. 'I'm screaming with it.'

CONTINUE READING: www.patreon.com/posts/writing-…

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My patrons will know the struggle I had to get her design right and it took a while but she's finally here and I'm really happy with her!!

Tanakin's a half-elf college of whispers bard who's bumming around pretending to be a college of lore bard because that's far more socially acceptable and she insists she's left the whisper side of her life behind anyway. Spoiler: she hasn't.

She's more into telling stories than singing songs and strums along on her lute as an accompaniment to tales that are usually hilarious, rude, or romantic- often all at once.

Basically she's an absolute wild child who laughs, smokes and drinks to suppress the emotional turmoil that's eating her up inside. She's a bit like a female Ham to be honest...

--

I have a couple more refs on the table but I'm not sure if I'll get anymore done in time for this Art Fight;; we'll see!

Description

Aberforth's list of dislikes was long, and he had an entire sub-category dedicated to the weather. The sun burnt his fair skin, the wind messed up his hair, and rain-- rain was the absolute worst of all. Rain was wet.

He had been collecting firewood when the clouds had rolled in (or, more accurately, Tanakin had been collecting firewood. Aberforth had been trailing behind, claiming to be on the look-out for bears and refusing to touch anything that had been on the ground).

Then the rain had began to fall; fat, slow drops- the sort that indicates the imminent arrival of a torrential downpour. With not enough time to make it back to camp, the duo had retreated to the shelter of an oak tree to wait it out. Just in time, too, as now it was positively pouring.

Wearing a frown several shades darker than his usual one, Aberforth shrunk back against the trunk of the tree. They had been quick, but not quick enough, and his robes clung to his skin, heavy and sodden. He was also cold, his feet hurt, and, somewhere beneath the thick layer of clouds, the sun was setting. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse--

The lightning struck first- a silent whip crack that tore a scar across the dark sky, followed by a deep rumble of thunder, almost right overhead. Aberforth wasn't sure what made him jump more: the thunder or Tanakin's scream.

At first he thought her afraid. But when he shot her a side-glance, he found her looking to the sky, face peppered by raindrops finding their way through the leaves, and grinning ear-to-ear.

He almost didn't want to ask, but he did.

'What was that?'

Tanakin didn't respond- or even look at him. The expression on her face was unchanged as her wild eyes scanned the sky, waiting...

Moments later, the lightning struck again, and as the thunder roared in response, so did Tanakin.

Aberforth watched, horrified, and shuffled round the trunk a little to put some distance between himself and-- whatever this was.

Once the thunder died away to the sound of the rain, so did Tanakin.

'I love thunder,' she finally said with a content sigh, back to tracing the cloud patterns with her eyes.

Aberforth peered round at her from the other side of the tree.

'Do you... often scream at things you love?' he asked.

'I'm not screaming at the thunder,' she said, matter-of-factly. 'I'm screaming with it.'

CONTINUE READING: www.patreon.com/posts/writing-…

-------

My patrons will know the struggle I had to get her design right and it took a while but she's finally here and I'm really happy with her!!

Tanakin's a half-elf college of whispers bard who's bumming around pretending to be a college of lore bard because that's far more socially acceptable and she insists she's left the whisper side of her life behind anyway. Spoiler: she hasn't.

She's more into telling stories than singing songs and strums along on her lute as an accompaniment to tales that are usually hilarious, rude, or romantic- often all at once.

Basically she's an absolute wild child who laughs, smokes and drinks to suppress the emotional turmoil that's eating her up inside. She's a bit like a female Ham to be honest...

--

I have a couple more refs on the table but I'm not sure if I'll get anymore done in time for this Art Fight;; we'll see!