Idren as a blood-kell commission!

I can just imagine it now, him walking into the tavern freshly out of the baths, dressed like that; pearled moisture still clinging to the naked skin of his torso, his hair plastered to his neck. He hates the feeling of it, of any texture touching too much of his skin. He walks into the tavern and orders a tankard of some foamy beer, and then shoves himself down at one of the bustling tables, taking up three whole seats; one for his body, and the other two for the spread of his arms and knees. He spots a beauty (the pathfinder, to be sure) over the rim of his tankard as he takes his first deep slug of drink, narrowing his eyes on his prey as tips his head back to swallow. He makes searing eye contact, keeping his eyes hooded as a promise of decadent secrets... and then he spends the rest of the night being deliberately noticed for his (completely fabricated) nonchalance. UGH.

I adore the small details Igor (the artist!) adds, from the hand-poked tattoo's to the not-fully-laced boots (he just shoved his feet in there). He is vain and knows his assets, without a doubt. As Kaire said in the discord, Idren is two millimeters away from pouting and that is SO true 💀 He knows exactly what he is doing, and how to utilize it to his advantage.

Ida, in comparison, hates and knows the same things but would never let it show on her face or in her mannerisms. She is fastidious, laces her boots perfectly, and wrangles her vanity into pragmatic self-care. She is a paradigm of control, except for when it comes to the pathfinder. I love both Id's, for how different and similar they are, how their small differences represent some sort of feelings I have myself, when it comes to gender.

I am enamored with what Id once used to be and what a cornerstone of a character they have now become, especially as I'm wrapping up book one and going back into developmental edits. Id has been that character that just keeps on giving; their voice is so strong in my head, their personality feels just right. They are such a strong presence. Not much of them has changed as a necessity, they have just grown and settled into what I had first imagined. You don't get many of those! My beloved little shitkid!!!

“Do you think they have as much trouble as we used to?"

"With the hunts, I mean,” you add on, taking another small swig of your drink.

Idren huffs. “Trouble? No. They don't even leave the outer ring these days, just dangle bait and then... slaughter. They have perfected the hunt, I’ll give them that." His head swivels to face you, darkness hovering beneath that mask, something bitter perched on his tongue. The lazy, dulcet murmur of his voice resurrects memories from lifetimes ago. "Though I guess— given enough time, you could perfect anything.”

It makes your mind a bit fuzzy / Your lips tighten into a thin smile. “Even rivalry.”

He laughs at that, sharp and tight, before reeling it back in. Even behind the tinniness of his voice, you sense the vague remnants of joy left in him. He hums. “I suppose.”

I'll see you soon, sweetpeas! I have so much more to share! xx

(I hope you are all doing well!)