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Vesuvia Weekly: What it's like to hold the M6

~ my submission for this week's prompt - have some sappy headcanon drabble ^.^ ~

Julian

The sounds of leather folding and bending and creaking, of a pent up sigh, of a noble, anxious, too-big-for-its-own-good heartbeat fluttering against those thin, bird-like ribs

The smell of - yes, more leather - with a slight hint of sweat and the faded scent of the crushed herbs used to stuff doctor's masks

The feel of a well-worn, weather tested, oversized coat falling around both your frames, a cold set of bony fingers tangling into your hair through protective gloves

The sight of folded black cloth and slightly dulled metal buttons, a pale neck cradling your forehead, auburn stubble shivering over a bobbing adam's apple

The bitter taste of sea-salty lips, self-sacrifice, and coffee

Asra

The sound of an airy chuckle, a curious whisper, a deep, relaxed sigh, a heartbeat that touches your own with every gentle thump

The smell of smoking incense, sparkling spices, and syrupy vanilla, lurking beneath the petrichor of sunny spring rains on the dust of a far-off highway

The feel of a soft shawl on your cheek, sturdy linen body-warmed and slightly rough under your arms, heavy, heated hands running soothing pathways along your spine, cloud soft curls on your ears, a deceptively slight frame

The sight of golden metal and silvery blue stone on smooth skin, the barely-there rise and fall of a body slowly relaxing into yours

The taste of smoky tea, home, and desperate dedication

Nadia

The sound of rustling silks, the quiet clink of bracelets and rings, the hush of long, thick hair falling over chiffon-clad shoulders, a contented, throaty hum, a lofty heartbeat

The smell of jasmine, rose, pepper, and amber, of warm silk and chilled white wine, of flower gardens and powdery cosmetics

The feel of a heavy curtain of hair against your face, body warmth passing quickly through thin, gauzy sleeves wrinkling under your movements, of strong fingers tilting your chin into her collarbone

The sight of glinting gemstones and finely crafted metal, intricate embroidery stitches swirling across lustrous fabric, scalloped hemlines along sculpted shoulders

The taste of spiced fish, wine, and plush, commanding adoration

Muriel

The sound of heavy, rough cloth slowly dragging across itself, breaths hitching deep and slow, a grumble quiet and low enough to shake the earth, a nervous, powerful heartbeat

The smell of myrrh hanging around you like a cloud, of warm fur and chilly forest air, of falling leaves and running water and smoke

The feel of muscle and scruff, of radiating body heat, of massive, calloused palms alternating between gently splaying over your shoulders like blanketing weights and hovering cautiously around your waist in fluttering, feather like touches

The sight of thick, dark hair falling in choppy lengths over stubble and scar tissue, of thick green cloth over sinew

The taste of grilled forage and mead, of healing and steadfastness

Portia

The sound of an excited giggle, springing footsteps and jingling keys, a happy gasp and unstoppable heartbeat, a mischievous secret getting laughed into your ear

The smell of air-drying laundry and soap, hair oil and cocoa butter, fresh bread and sizzling butter and caramelizing berries

The feel of strong forearms, small, calloused hands, the push of energetic bouncing against your shoulder, of hair flying around your face, the plush squish of a no-holds-barred bear hug

The sight of fiery curls spilling over clean, pressed cotton, freckles speckling creamy skin, the occasional grey and white cat hair clinging to black ribbon, the dusk of a happy blush

The taste of yeasty bread, and the comforts of adventure

Lucio

The sounds of nearby dogs panting, a cutlass clanking in its sheath, the mechanical whir and musical hum of an alchemical arm, a confident, snorting chuckle and a devoted heartbeat

The smell of fresh sweat, warm metal, cinnamon alcohol in a journeyman's flask, hair gel and worn cologne

The feel of a padded, quilted vest, the quick rise and fall of an active chest, the slight tilt of a shoulder forever sloped in favor of a heavy arm, the sinewed grip of a warrior's touchstarved fingers and the cool, metallic touch of a careful clawed hand

The sight of sharp collarbones and glinting curved gold, fine flaxen hair at the nape of a snowy neck, crimson cloth and leather straps

The taste of grilled meat, traveler's wine, and new beginnings

Vesuvia Weekly: Guilty Pleasures (poorly doodled)

Julian

Likes his food very, very salty, and in an effort not to be a burden on anyone who cooks for him, carries at least one pouch or shaker of salt around in his coat. It doesn't matter who cooked it or what the dish is, it's the same routine every. Freaking. Time. He takes one bite, exclaims over how delicious it is, pulls out his pouch, shakes at least half a teaspoon over it, and eats the rest with gusto.

You have tried to confiscate it before important dinner events. It's impossible to find and only resulted him suggesting a body search.

Asra

Gets the midnight munchies like clockwork and it's the only thing about them that follows a predictable schedule. It doesn't matter how much or little he's eaten that day or how busy he's been or what he's been up to - the clock chimes twelve, he pauses whatever he is (or isn't) doing, and the stove salamander prepares itself to assist him in crafting some new culinary abomination. You're welcome to join in!

You did try locking all the food in the pantry once to see what they would do. His response was to playfully threaten to eat you instead

Nadia

Has an obsession for things that go "click". The keys on her parlor pipe organ. The little gears and cogs she tinkers with in her free time. The jewels on the hairpieces she wears over her ears. One time you accidentally burned through half her day because she stopped by while you were threading charmed beads, and she was so hypnotized by the cathartic swishes and clicks she missed three meetings.

You did try taking her to a factory with lots of loud clicks in it, only to find out that it was the wrong type of click and she needed to leave

Muriel

Loves squishy things he can sink his hands into so much he's convinced he's not allowed to enjoy them. Thick moss. Large, spongy mushrooms. Soft, dense furs that have just been shaken and fluffed out. It's so hard not to call him catlike on cleaning days, because his response to the furs that have hung in the breeze and sunlight all day is to sit down, sink his palms in, and knead for several minutes.

Once he found a part of your body with enough flesh on it for the soft skin to well up between his fingers, and he fixated on it for a week

Portia

Likes sniffing coffee beans when she needs a pick-me-up. She hates the bitterness of the flavor of it, and she doesn't need the level of caffeine that drinking it would give her, but the smell of freshly ground coffee beans is exactly the afternoon boost she craves. You didn't know about this until you walked in one day, just in time to see her enthusiastically faceplant into a bowl of them with a loud snort.

Nobody knows what she does with the beans after she's ground and sniffed them. You suspect she uses them as garden fertilizer

Lucio

At first you're convinced he doesn't have any guilty pleasures because he simply doesn't feel guilt for a good time in the first place. You are wrong. On the rare occasion that he fully removes his prosthetic, he likes doodling a pair of googly eyes onto what's left of his shoulder and making it "argue" with the hand on his metal arm. They're named "Willy" and "Spikes" and have their own voices.

You walked in on this once when you stopped to have the elbow piece fixed, to Lucio sitting shirtless on the floor debating cookie flavors

The old sketch of human (or not?) Valdemar.

Because of their antiquity, I came up a headcanon about their origin. So, what about a country near the great river and with the great pyramids? Many lands of the Arcana world have references from India, Arabic region or Mongolia – so, Ancient Egypt? Why not? I can't decide, maybe this is ancient Zadith? There is nothing about Zadith in the canon, just a note in the ArcanaWiki:

"The homeland of Asra's parents, Zadith lies across the Malvent Strait from Vesuvia. This is a country where both science and magic are highly respected. Those who combine both disciplines are known as alchemists."

I think this short description is suitable for the heritage of such civilization as Egyptian.

I’m sad that the history of the world is so poorly developed, but I still love the lore so much. And I’d be happy to read (only from the original writers), say, a brief history of the world. But since there's no any history, I'm taking the liberty (and, a bit, my history degree) to assume: Zadith is the inheritor of some ancient civilization like the Ancient Egypt.

I'm not good at naming, so I will provisionally call it "Deshret" – Egyptian word for "red land, desert". Valdemar spoke about "millennia of existence", describing their antiquity, so I'm pretty sure: they have been born as a human in the ancient kingdom, like the Ancient Egypt. Also, note that red beetle brooch at the neck: similar motives were common in the Ancient Egypt. And, I think, Valdemar had this beetle brooch long before the Plague.

Okay, maybe developers in Portia's route (flashback scene with Prospero and foundation of Vesuvia) just showed Valdemar to us as we know them, because of developing another (kinda "more ancient") sprite and costume for the short scene is not viable. But anyway: we have what we have. What if we imagine that "red beetle brooch" of the Courtiers is rooted not only in the Red Plague? What about a, merely my headcanon, the Egyptian "scarab" motif?

So, there's the old traditional sketch I have. When I drew this pic, I imagined Valdemar just after their first deals with the Devil. Just look at their eyes.🫀

And – of course, they are in the tomb. Maybe as a priest? Who knows, fellow humans.