What do you know about Elizabeth Holly Hamilton? I can't seem to find anything about her and I'm curious
Eliza Hamilton was born in New York City on November 20, 1799. Eliza wasn’t a nickname, her name was Eliza, not Elizabeth. As noted in Chernow’s biography, Eliza was a sickly infant whom her troubled frequently troubled himself over, even to the point of chiding Elizabeth Hamilton for not notifying him, “It is absolutely necessary to me when absent to hear frequently of your and my dear children. While all other passions decline in me, those of love and friendship gain new strength. It will be more and more my endeavor to abtract myself from all pursuits which interfere with those of affection. ‘Tis here only I can find true pleasure.”
Once, while home with his children during his wife’s absence, Hamilton wrote of his three-year-old daughter that, “Eliza pouts and plays, and displays more and more her ample stock of Caprice.” She was only four years old when her father was killed in the duel with Aaron Burr and was with him in his final hours. Her mother, her older sister Angelica, and her younger two-year-old brother Philip “Little Phil”, were not a part of the funeral or even attended it.
Eliza married Sidney Augustus Holly on July 19, 1825 and she had no children with him or ever any children. Holly was a merchant in New York City as well as a large land owner in Stamford, Connecticut. Prior to 1833, Eliza and her husband lived at The Grange with her mother. Eliza and her mother were supposedly very close for all her life. In a letter written by her Elizabeth Hamilton in December 1832, Eliza was described as being as her father was: “You don’t know how important you are to me. You step in the steps of your father’s kindness, and the more you are with me, the more I see that you are like him.”
From 1833 to 1842, Eliza and her husband, Sidney Holly continued to live with her mother in an East Village, Manhattan townhouse at 4 St. Mark’s Place which is now known as the Hamilton-Holly House. Eliza’s older brother brother Alexander Hamilton Jr. and his wife Eliza P. Knox Hamilton lived there as well. On June 26, 1842, Sidney Holly died. That year, she moved back in with her mother to 63 Prince Street in Lower Manhattan, which was previously owned and was the late home of James Monroe and his son in law Samuel L. Gouverneur (it was also the home James Monroe died in).
In 1848 she and her mother moved to Washington, DC living near the White House in a house on H Street, and they entertained many guests. On New Year’s Day of 1853 General Winfield Scott, William H. Seward, and President Millard Fillmore joined them. A month after their first meeting with President Fillmore, Eliza and her mother dined at the White House with Fillmore.
After her mother died in 1854 at the age of ninety seven, Eliza aided her brother John Church Hamilton in his biography of their father, Alexander Hamilton. Distraught that her mother had waited vainly for decades to see her husband’s life immortalized, Eliza Hamilton Holly scolded her brother, John Church Hamilton for his overdue biography: “Lately in my hours of sadness, recurring to such interests as most deeply affected our blessed Mother…I could recall none more frequent or more absorbent than her devotion to our Father. When blessed memory shows her gentle countenance and her untiring spirit before me, in this one great and beautiful aspiration after duty, I feel the same spark ignite and bid me…to seek the fulfillment of her words: ‘Justice shall be done to the memory of my Hamilton.’”
In 1856, Eliza made of mention of her older sister Angelica, thinking of her after her expected death, writing, “Poor sister, what a happy release will be hers. Lost to herself a half century!!”
Eliza Hamilton Holly died in the capital, Washington DC on October 17, 1859. Along with her older sister years earlier, she was buried in Westchester County, New York at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, where in 1878, their older brother James Alexander Hamilton was also buried.
We asked, you voted overwhelmingly to send Katniss and friends into the strange old manor house she’s inherited. What adventures await them inside? Let’s find out, shall we? As always, you’ll have 48 hours to vote (in the comments or reblogs, NOT in the tags!), until Noon EDT on Thursday, September 7th.
This week’s installment was crafted by the incomparable @jennagill (who asked that we give a shout out to @papofglencoe for her invaluable assistance.) Hang on folks, here we go…
“C’mon Katniss. We’ll take a look around, assess the needs, and come back tomorrow with a more informed game plan,” Peeta promises.
“Yeah, and maybe we can start on the demo,” Johanna says, rubbing her hands together and no doubt wanting to stick her axe in a wall.
“Who said anything about demo??” I squawk. “Maybe I want to restore this house to its former glory,” I say. It’s all still a little surreal to me. Inheriting this manor with $500,000 to fix it up in six months and the possibility gaining half of the estate if I’m successful sounds like a dream. Of course, if I don’t complete Uncle Haymitch’s task, then it all goes away and Peeta and I will return to the quiet life we had before the reading of the will.
“There’s always an opportunity for demo,” Finnick says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “This house was likely built in the turn of the century. It’s probably going to need foundation repair, new plumbing, bringing the electrical up to code, new roof, and new windows,” Finnick finishes, listing the top tasks off with his hands.
“Do you have a second career as a contractor that we don’t know about?” Peeta jokes.
“Nah, just watched a lot of This Old House,” Finnick says.
Told that Sam was seen with a female friend out in the Merchant City tonight ( Blackfriars ). Could be Cait height wise but he was not sure of hair colour he thought maybe red but definitely not blonde . Boyfriends are useless at gossip, but he does know who Sam is and says it was definitely him . Described the woman as tall, slim and "stunning" !!! . Showed him Cait on current S3 O/L episode , says maybe but woman he saw looked younger . Disclaimer he's slightly drunk but certain it was Sam
Imagine Claire and Jamie (unlucky in love) met while speed dating and clicked instantly.
Some sort of amalgamation of grey, blue and green.
A whole host of them flashed before her, the memory of them blurring almost immediately as the next guy pulled out the chair and sat in front of her.
It was hideous and boring but she’d promised her friend, Geillis, so here she was. At the thought of her meddlesome companion she internally rolled her eyes and re-focused on the man in front of her.
“So, what’s your name, pretty lady?” The lightly-bearded gentleman cooed as he reached for her hand. Four minutes was all they had, and thank goodness for that. *Pretty lady*? Who said shit like that these days?
Claire looked up and blinked coquettishly. If he was going to resort to antiquated phraseology to *woo* her, she’d return the sentiment tenfold.
“Claire, Claire Beauchamp. And you?”
The only thing that was missing from this whole futile interaction was a muted sepia tone and some cigarettes.
Ignoring the listlessness of her tone, her companion winked like some sideshow comedian and licked his lips.
Claire withheld the shudder and looked at the clock. Only a minute to go. She could do this. One minute and then only another candidate and she’d be home with her television and a very large glass of wine…alone.
“I’m Tom, Tom Christie. What do you–”
The buzzer sounded and not a moment too soon as Tim…or Tom, whoever he was, stood and offered his hand to Claire.
“Nice to chat to you, Claire, maybe we’ll meet again soon?”
Choosing civility over hostility, Claire stood and took his sweaty palm before nodding -she left his open ended question hang in the air though, not wanting to have to disappoint him whilst she was in such an awful mood.
And with that her penultimate suitor faded into the massing crowd of men that were deciphering where to go next.
Having opted to drive - the safest way to ensure a quick getaway at the end of the evening - Claire hadn’t had anything alcoholic to drink, only a large glass of water to tide her over but with all of the cheesy chat-up lines rolling around her head she’d begun to wish that she’d ditched the car in favour of the booze. Sighing, she scratched the back of her neck as she awaited her final guest.
It seemed to take an awfully long time for the room to settle, so long that she almost hoped that it was done and over and there wasn’t another man destined to sit at her table and discuss inane tosh. But just as the hope had arisen it was quashed by the arrival of her final four minute date.
“I’m sae sorry, lass…” the mystery man panted, his hands running nervously though his longer than average hair as he pulled the chair aside and sat down. “I had a de’il of a time getting through.”
“T-that’s alright,” Claire returned, momentarily befuddled by the bright red hair and the vibrant blue eyes of her guest, “I’m Claire, who are you?”
Geillis sat on the other side of the bar with a large smile plastered on her face. She knew Claire probably wouldn’t take to most of the men here, but she understood her friend’s motivations better than Claire herself.
True to his word, Jamie had been late *and* had found it difficult to shimmy through the crowds, but he hadn’t actually been there before now. Geillis and Jamie had met years before, when Claire was still dating that boring dolt, Frank. She’d seen instantly how Jamie and Claire would be perfect for one another, but whilst Claire was still inextricably tied to another she couldn’t conceivably link the pair up on a hot date.
Instead she had played the waiting game, knowing it was futile. Claire and Jamie would be together, she could just sense it.
She watched for a minute longer and Claire dipped her head and laughed, the telltale blush coating her cheeks as Jamie captivated her in record breaking time.
“You get her, Jamie lad.” Geiliis whispered into her large glass of rose, “get her good.”
Before she’d even blinked the timer rang out for the end and Claire slunk back in her seat.
Jamie was…interesting. It had shocked her, and instead of backing away she found herself leaning into him as he spoke.
“Look, Claire,” Jamie said, tapping his fingers nervously against the heavily marked desk, “I ken we’ve no’ had long to chat. But would you like to continue. We could stay here…or go somewhere else?”
Claire’s heart missed a beat and she hiccuped over the rim of her glass as she took another sip of water. She wanted to, badly. But something was chewing at her and she wasn’t sure whether to accept or not.
“No pressure,” he continued, seeing the indecision in her eyes.
“Okay,” she decided with one meaningful glance at Geillis, who’d been propping the bar up all night. Her friend definitely had something to do with this. “But not here,” she continued, noticing some of the creepier guys as they hovered around waiting for the waifs and strays of the evening to pick them up in the aftermath.
“Aye, I agree.”
Out in the cool Glaswegian night, Claire and Jamie walked side by side letting the cold air surround them as they walked further and further from merchant city. The bars, restaurants and general hum of central Glasgow began to fade as they walked quietly onwards.
“Did Gellie set this up?” Claire finally chirped, her voice much more stable than her emotions. “You can be honest, don’t worry.” She smiled up at him as their brisk walk slowed a little the closer they came to Kelvingrove.
Jamie laughed, a small thing that barely registered but Claire could see the gentle shudder of his chest and the subtle twitch of his lips.
“She might have had something to do wi’ it, aye.”
“How long has she been plotting this?”
Claire wasn’t wasting any time. She knew Geillis and she knew that her friend had been containing something even before she’d separated from Frank.
“Weel…” suddenly Jamie felt very coy, but since Claire was being so direct with him, he could see no way other than honesty. “A while. She spoke to me of you maybe a year back. I didna think she was serious, o’ course. And then nothing came of it, so I didna mention it again.”
“Aye.” His voice was deeper now, the intonation of the single word sending shivers down Claire’s spine. Fortunately the wind was high enough for her to pass it off as the cold.
“She mentioned…in passing…that ye might be here tonight and I was suitably intrigued that I didna think it would do any harm.”
“Are you lonely, Jamie?” Claire asked, with one lift of her left eyebrow.
“Are you, Claire?” He returned, nudging her shoulder with his own as they perched on a bench overlooking the still waters of the river Kelvin. Glasgow lit up was the most amazing sight, the university in the background almost glowed on the horizon.
“Nice return, Mr…”
“Fraser, it’s James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie…Fraser.”
“Quite the mouthful,” Claire chuckled, her fingers coming into contact with Jamie’s as she turned a little, watching his profile as he took in the twinkling lights of the buildings beyond. “I only have one middle name; but then again, I’m not greedy.”
Jamie laughed, the deep baritone of it reverberating through the cheap wood that supported them. “Blame my sentimental parents for wanting to keep all of the family names on the go, aye?”
“I’m sorry,” Claire said, her walls slowly crumbling under Jamie’s gentle handling. “I don’t mean to be so …irascible.”
“Dinna werrit…you arena ir- irass–”
Claire snorted, holding her hand to her mouth as she tried not to giggle at his mispronunciation of her choice of words. “Irascible. Bad-tempered or foul.”
“Ha. I ken what it means, lass. I just canna say it.” Jamie winked leaning back on the bench now as his arm came up and settled loosely behind Claire’s back. “But you arena any of those things. I like your humour. Putting the ‘sass’ in ‘sassenach’, aye?”
Letting her head loll backwards, Claire couldn’t contain her laughter anymore as she let her mouth fall open and her head hit Jamie’s warm arm. “Sassy, am I?”
“That’s one word for it, aye. But I like you fine, Claire.”
Ordinarily such a statement would have grated on her, but with Jamie, Claire felt some sort of kinship which kept her from rolling her eyes and cutting their extended date short.
She’d been called much worse by less good looking people.
Sassy, she could cope with.
As for his bold choice of words in regards to his assessment of her, something warm was glowing inside her, a distinctly feminine heat that she rarely felt. A feeling that Frank had never elicited from her and she found that she was…glad…that he liked her.
“Well, Jamie,” Claire said, a slight happy lilt to her tone, “ I like *ye* just fine too.”
As the frigid evening air began to cut through them, Claire stood and offered Jamie her hand bypassing the opportunity for Jamie to do it. “Shall we?” She led with the quirk of an eyebrow.
“Did ye have something in mind, Mistress?” he returned, taking her soft hand and standing by her side with a miniature bow as he stood.
“I think we probably should give Geillie her money’s worth, don’t you think Jamie? Since she’s been orchestrating this for *such a long time*.”
Suitably intrigued, Jamie chuckled and followed as Claire began ambling towards the exit to the park. It wasn’t far to her place from Kelvingrove and the homely light of her apartment made her quicken her steps. The thrill of bringing Jamie back with her made the excitement bubble just beneath her skin.
“Your place?” Jamie questioned, nerves fluttering in his belly as he watched Claire reach for her keys.
“I don’t think there are any bars left open now, Jamie,” she said, fumbling through her large tote in search of her ring of keys, “so if you fancy a nightcap, then…yes?” She posed it as a question, worried just for a second that he might think her too forward but as soon as she’d said it she squashed those insecurities. If he didn’t want to join her, she’d continue alone.
“Ach,” he replied, making a distinctly Scottish noise as he looked behind him down the deserted road, “it would be my pleasure.”
Her flat was toasty as she closed the door solidly behind him. Grabbing two tumblers from the sideboard she turned and looked at him with one eyebrow cocked, holding the glasses aloft and clinking them together. “Whisky? Or is that a silly question?”
Jamie sat cross legged on the sofa, his whisky balanced carefully on his knees as he watched Claire lighting candles in her small lounge. “Ye told me you were a doctor, Claire. But do you have a specialty?” Not wanting the silence to stretch on he tilted his head to the side as he asked the question. He was captivated by her. The woman who’d spent mere hours with him and yet wanted to bring him into her home. Although it had a strange one-night-stand feel about the whole affair, it didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have.
“I’m a surgeon by trade. I wanted to work in A&E, that was always where I wanted to end up - so it came down to a choice really. I’ve always been hands on, so my mentor suggested the path that involved less diagnosis and more…cutting and investigating.” Smiling, she blew out the lit match, her lips pursing in the most glorious way.
“It sounds like a noble profession. My mother is a nurse so I ken how difficult it can be in a hospital. Especially with the hours.”
“Noble,” Claire whispered, perching on the single seat next to the sofa where Jamie sat. “I’ve been told that a lot, but I’m mostly selfish. I always did the things I wanted to do.”
“We’re all selfish, Claire. Nay doubt about that.”
Nodding, Claire swilled the amber liquid around her mouth and swallowed. “So, farming,” she stated, bringing up his career to end the conversation about her own. “What made you choose that?”
“It’s a family enterprise really. My da and my grandda were both farmers. It was just passed down, really.”
“Didn’t you ever want to do anything else?”
“No,” Jamie answered simply, his eyes alight with joy as he licked his lips. “I didna. I love the farm, I love working the land and I’d hate to have to work indoors again now. I’m used to the freedom.”
Claire brushed the hair from her eyes as she finally toed off her shoes. “So that’s how you know Geillie, then? Through the business?”
“Aye, she’s my accountant…as she was my father’s before that.”
Quiet filled the room once more as they each downed their drinks. Jamie’s heart began to race as he watched the light reflecting in Claire’s eyes. She looked seductive, the silk of her top rippling almost like water in a burn as is slid against her milky skin.
“I think it’s time for me to go,” he said, his heart sinking at the prospect of leaving her, but knowing that it was late and awfully presumptuous that he might be asked to stay.
Claire nodded, her lips twitching into an almost lascivious smile as she made to stand. He was right, of course. It was after midnight, but the part of her that relied heavily on her instincts rebelled. She hadn’t invited him inside to have one drink and leave. Pushing herself out of the comfy chair, she walked slowly over to Jamie and took his glass from him - purposefully running her pinkie finger against his large digits.
Jamie shuddered, her touch causing his fingers to twitch in midair.
“Do you want to leave, Jamie?” She whispered; her head dipped, her eyes focused directly on him.
Her cheeks were pinked, the muted rouge spreading down and along her neck as she stood in front of him, her hands clasped tight around the empty tumblers as she awaited his response.
Negating to answer, he stood, shifted his head to the side and nudged his nose against her - offering his lips up to her. Jamie wanted to kiss her, but since she’d been making the moves, he decided to leave the control with her. He quite liked her gumption.
“Me either,” she sighed, interpreting his actions for herself.
Her kiss was intense to say the least. He could still taste the Talisker on her tongue as she guided him soundlessly towards her bedroom. Jamie was so incapacitated by her caress that he barely registered the move, it was only the sense of darkness surrounding them that brought him to his senses.
Claire took advantage of the situation, peeling the shirt from her shoulders and dropping it on the floor by her feet.
Jamie was stunned, his irises large as saucers as he blinked in the dim light of the master bedroom. “Christ yer beautiful, Claire,” he gasped, the air suddenly dissipating from his lungs as if she’d drawn it directly from his chest.
Claire exhaled, her fingers toying with Jamie’s belt. She knew how to act, but she didn’t know what to say to return the sentiment. In lieu of words, she stuck to actions. Jamie’s belt dropped to the floor with a clatter to join Claire’s top before he could even move an inch.
“Are ye sure?”
“Yes,” she replied instantly, fusing her mouth to his as she continued to undress him.
In no time at all she had him naked. Jamie didn’t protest. It had been so long for him, it wasn’t that he’d abstained - just that he’d not met anyone who’d driven him to want. But Claire had. Mere moments after he’d met her he’d known that Geillis was right.
Claire hadn’t been with a man since Frank, and she hadn’t anticipated the mounting feel of desire that had sparked upon meeting Jamie. What she did know, though, was that she wasn’t willing to stop. She didn’t care about the implications or what may or may not happen in the aftermath. She wanted him, and since he was equally partial to their union, she was *going* to have him…
We kick this round off in style, courtesy of the hilarious and talented @burkygirl (with an assist from @xerxia31). You have 48 hours to vote on the direction of the next chapter of the story (until noon EDT on Thursday, August 31st). Remember: vote in the comments, not in the tags! And don’t forget to spread the word by reblogging. The more fans playing this game, the more fun it will be!
My skirt is crawling up again. I twitch it back into place and shift uncomfortably in my chair in the lawyer’s office. I’m not sure why I’m here, really. Haymitch Abernathy was my uncle, but mostly he was just an annoying pain in my ass who spent family diners criticizing my decisions from the other side of his highball glass.
So when his lawyer called after his funeral and said my presence was needed at the reading of his will, I was floored. At best, Haymitch only tolerated me. Why in God’s name he’d leave anything to me while that crazy wife of his had her claws firmly clenched on the wallet where he kept his dotcom millions was a complete mystery. I’d immediately decided not to go. The lawyer could call me later.
The reason for my change of mind is sitting right beside me, holding my hand and projecting an aura of confidence while Effie, Haymitch’s wife, covertly sneaks glances in our direction and thinly veils her irritation at our presence.
Peeta convinced me that it was disrespectful to not attend the reading if I’d been asked to be there, but honestly, I think he just wanted a front seat to the drama. The corner of his mouth twitches every time he catches Aunt Effie staring at us. If she was only looking at him, I’d understand. My boyfriend, with his brawny physique and golden hair, looks hot in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but he’s devastating in his navy sports jacket, white shirt and orange tie. He shifts in his chair and winks at me. The shit. He’s loving every second of Eff-zilla’s reaction to our attendance.
I'm the anon who's B/F saw Sam and a female friend out in Merchant City Glasgow after MPC W/E. Well he saw them again this morning at the airport. We were traveling with the Scotland Football Fans to Croatia, just my luck I was in the toilet so I still don't know if it was Cait but he said it was "same gorgeous girl", called Sam a lucky bastard !! I'm going to try later to find out from someone else in the group who maybe wasn't so distracted by the "gorgeous girl" .🙄😂
Are you pulling my leg anon?? 🤔 I’m going to believe you because I want to and I can, but next time some proof would be nice. Tell that boyfriend of yours to take out the camera 😘
The Merchant City Festival’s Vintage strand promises to be an exciting and diverse programme, and Cosmic Designs’ I AM ART project is lucky to have received funding from the Merchant City Festival Fund.
Between Mon 22nd and Thurs 25th July, we will be running a series of cool art workshops looking at art, fashion, music and design from the 1920s to 1980s with reference to LGBT influences.
As you can tell by the flyer, we’re aiming to explore more than the typical “vintage” fashions - we’re thinking Bronski Beat, Pet Shop Boys, Depeche Mode, Soft Cell, Miami Vice, tight jeans, clones, bouffant hair, shoulder pads, power dressing, Christine Jorgensen, Section 28 and GenderNet.
Whether politics, fashion, art or design is your bag, we’ve got it covered.
Anyone who identifies as LGBTQ can join in, and beginners are more than welcome.
The workshops have been designed with the help of participants from the I Am Art project, a group of 16-25 year olds who have been exploring identity and community. They are free to attend, all materials are provided, and above all, they are FUN.
We’ve been kindly given space by the lovely staff at Speakeasy, so we’ll be in the former FHQ, above the bar.
And to top it all off, on Saturday 27th July, we’ll be inviting the public in to see the work we’ve done, and to give folk the opportunity to dress up in the vintage period of their choice, have their photos taken, and celebrate the Merchant City Festival in STYLE!
James Monroe, the last Revolutionary War veteran to serve as president, in 1824 invited Lafayette, the war’s last surviving major general, to return to America as the nation’s guest. Lafayette had lost his fortune during the French Revolution; his wife had nearly gone to the guillotine, and he had been imprisoned in Austria. Refusing to serve a non-elected government, Lafayette had a cool relationship with France’s restored monarchy, which suppressed public demonstrations to bid him farewell … America had changed since Lafayette’s first visit in 1777. So had Europe. In 1777 monarchies dominated the world … By 1824, the people of Haiti, Argentina, Venuzuela, Mexico, Peru, and Brazil, as well as the United States, were independent. Their revolutions had shaken Europe itself. …
At a Paris celebration of Washington’s birthday , Lafayette toasted Monroe’s doctrine as another part of “the great contest between the rights of mankind and the pretensions of European despotism and aristocracy.”
Lafayette visited all twenty-four states, and it seemed all twelve million Americans turned out to meet him. He remembered the names of veterans who had served with him, he stayed with presidents and political leaders, with free black families and Native Americans, with frontier farmers and city merchants. He laid the cornerstone for the a Bunker Hill monument and brought dirt back from the battlefield home so that when he died he could be buried in it.
A passage from The American Revolution: A Concise History by Robert J. Allison on Lafayette’s final visit to America in 1824.
Thoughts on Chancellor Esteban from Elena of Avalor so far?
Oh man, Esteban is probably my favourite character in Elena of Avalor, right after Elena herself.
He’s got such a great design, voice, and general aesthetic. I love how there’s this backstory with him betraying Elena’s parents that hasn’t been revealed to Elena yet. In general, there’s a great sense of poetic tragedy to the character, more complicated than what you typically get from this ‘type’ of show; he’s both a victim of circumstance and his own worst enemy. I love how he can be written both as competent & conniving but also as an overzealous buffoon without breaking character
(As an aside, with his ‘sympathetic Starscream-ish’ personality, I’m surprised he isn’t more of a fandom dreamboat, but whatever.)
I like how there’s a little more complexity to his actions that what you might expect. Yea, he wants to rule the country in Elena’s stead, but the show never forgets that he loves Elena; she’s his cousin & family. And his motives for taking control of Avalor are based in that he legitimately feels he could run things better. Cedric in Sofia the First flat out admits his S1-3 actions were evil; couched in spite & wanting to improve things for himself. Esteban (while admittedly self motivated too) does not see himself as a villain & has layers to why he does what he does. This leads into a nice sense of logic to other aspects of his character; like how he’s close friends with one of the most powerful merchants in the city or why he looks down on Naomi.
He has interests, a life, and actions outside of wanting to run the country. He does
general recreational activities with the family. He gets super invested
in the Olaball
tournament alongside the Grandpa.
Kylan. A self-reliant, but sensitive
and shy mage. He lives apart from his clan, in a nice and comfortable cave. Makes money by selling potions and magic items to merchants. Occasionally visits the city for business, in disguise due to fear of being caught by templars. Fells in love with an unsuspecting kind-hearted templar who is fascinated by elven culture and has a dream of seeing halla one day.
I’m planning to make a couple of comics when I’m free and have a better written story. These are very spontaneous OCs but I like them more than anything I’ve ever created =w=
If you are interested in sOME GAY ROMANCE, I would appreciate any encouragement ^^