Kvothe - Tumblr Posts
I think this is about the level of skill Kvothe, from Name of the Wind, would be at
There's a user called Erika Horn (@erikahorn.art) on tiktok who made a "duet me" challenge so technically impressive that all of the duets are exactly like this LMAO
This is so beautiful!
“Auri and Kvothe”
I am a big fan of Patrick Rothfuss’ wonderful series “The Kingkiller Chronicle”, often known by the title of the first book “The Name of the Wind”. Few books have captivated me as much as this series, and I can’t wait to see what will happen next to Kvothe and the people around him.
I’ve wanted to illustrate one of the many iconic scenes from the books for quite some time now, and I finally managed to put together this illustration over many little breaks at work and at home. I hope you enjoy it, whether or not you know the books (and if you don’t know them, I highly recommend picking them up!) Photoshop, November 2015.
Definitely very Temerant!
Boboli Gardens, Florence Italy
Half of seeming clever is keeping your mouth shut at the right times.
The Wise Man’s Fear by Patrick Rothfuss
It should be a crime how we are made to listen for 4 hours about a child living in his happy little bubble of science and magic and love and music.
Of course there are mean people in this story but they dont concern him, they don't concern us. We watch with him from a distance, curious, as the provlem is solved, and we move on.
We explore and learn and discover with him. We start to love this child and Ben and his parent and his trupe, his family. Edema Ruh. We are with him on the road and in Bens caravan and in his mind.
For 5 hours we stay there and forget about everything that is to come (because of course we have listened to/read it before and we know). Its bittersweet the whole time really.
On the 23h 10m mark on audible, it is all taken away.
As the child is no longer in this bubble.
We become the boy in the forest too.
My name is Kvothe, pronounced nearly the same as "Quothe." Names are important as they tell you a great deal about a person. I've had more names than anyone has a right too.
Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind, Chapter 7.
Kvothe by Zusacre
Kvothe & Auri
inspired by Gabriel Picolo’s Peter Pan which reminded me of kvothe
DOS Fanfic: The Silent Swaying of Sorrowed Men
!! // TW: Suicide, Hanging
I saw a theory a while ago that the reason we don't have book 3 is because Kvothe is dead and never went downstairs to tell the third part. I combined this with the theory that the "one single, perfect step" was him walking off of something to end it all. You can still decide if this happens before or after he's told his final tale.
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DAWN HAD ARRIVED. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.
The most obvious part was a vast, echoing quiet made by things that were lacking. If its innkeeper had been awake, the smell of early noontime stew would have drawn the men of Newarre to the Waystone, their feet clattering upon the cold stone of the doorstep as they filled the inn with the clamor of amiable, hungry men. If there had been the barest hint of impatience, the innkeeper’s student would have ran up the stairs and knocked on his door and called on him with the cold banter of a man who could no longer wait. If there had been music . . . but no, of course there was no music. In fact, there were none of these things, and so the silence remained.
Inside the Waystone, a dark-haired man made his slow way up the stairs to his master’s room, moving with the confident caution of fearless men. His steps were steady and sure, hidden from the rest of the world and careful not to give too much away, slow and even more slowly set. In doing this, he added a small, fretted silence to the larger, more prominent one. They made a melody of sorts, making way for the song’s refrain.
The third silence was not an easy thing to notice. If you listened for an hour, you might begin to feel it from the slow swaying of a knotted cord and the soundless waiting of a letter, safely tucked away. If you listened for longer, you would find it in the weight of a man’s mortality, hidden within his darkest chords, kept deep beyond the great stone doors of forgetting and finally laid to rest. And it was once in the heart and mind of that very same man who hanged there, rocking, swaying for the sweet embrace of memories never lost.
The man had true red hair, red as flame. His eyes were dark and distant, and he remained there with the indifference of someone who had known and learned far too many things.
The Waystone was his, just as the third silence was his. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, holding the others inside itself, as firm as a single, perfect step. It was deep and wide as autumn’s ending. It was as heavy as a thrice-swallowed secret of the heart. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who could not wait to die.
He has:
✔ Stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings
✔ Burned down the town of Trebon
✔ Spent the night with Felurian and left with both his sanity and his life
✔ Gotten expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in
✔ Trod paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day
✔ Talked to gods
✔ Loved women
✔ Made songs that made the minstrels weep
Bonus: you may have heard of him
What more could you need?
