Tag: DWC2020
x 18
That First Curse
That first curse
Salted with power
And kissed with rage
Eagerly chanted verse
That first soul
Slipped through stars
Dark and unwilling
Glowing like coal
That first servant
Voice so defiant
Eyes sharp in need
Hunger forcing her pliant.
Reap
Tinnaire brushed aside the last of the forest detritus and smiled where she squatted. The bones were clean; she’d been waiting to collect them, once the forest was done with the rest. A lynx skull, a femur, a few lumbar vertebrae, and a run of coccygeal bones. Not precisely white, but cleaner than when she’d marked them on her little treasure map.
Eversong, for all it had been through the last few decades, was still an ecology she tried not to disturb until nature had gotten its due. Death had sown here. But not always in the Scar variety.
She tugged at the fingers of her riding glove and folded it over her wrist, intent on a tactile prayer of thanks. It would make fine art and she felt her heart swell with gusts of...
Poison
The steady tink-tink-tink of the glass under her fingernail was just sharp enough to keep her thoughts from falling too far down the proverbial rabbit-hole. Her eyes wandered over the morning Bazaar markets and she leaned on the rough counter of her stall.
Concoctions and elixirs. Soaps and perfume. Oils, creams, and potions. Tiny vials and large bottles nested in crates stuffed with straw. Others sat on the fold up displays. Khaeris had always loved the little glass containers her wares came in. She was thankful for her friendship with Pyraelia for many reasons, but connections to talented glassworks were valuable in her alchemical trade.
Especially to some of the more illicit wares she kept under the counter and out of...
Bitter
He wasn’t really known as whimsical. He knew he wasn’t seen as a sourpus, but he tended to stay in the background, rather than the type of person found dancing up on the bar. Ren wasn’t a stick in the mud, he hoped!, but neither was he usually the life of the party.
The new Menagerie vendor had been nice, and he’d bought a window-kit for a plant--starlily. He’d eyed over the menu and the elixirs she’d offered. Various playful potions that changed the way you perceived flavors made him smile.
Still. Everyone standing around and twiddling their thumbs was definitely not his pace either. The Menagerie had been quiet, but there were still the vendors, himself, and Junarra there. Why not have a little fun and get to know...
The Truth Is...
“The Truth Is, I’m A Bad Person.”
( Set in the present day. )
7 - Bitter
-
“Just try it on, see how you feel.”
By the time Eleeria made up her mind to follow Lily’s advice, it had been several bullshit-filled days since. She thought she had some clever excuses to get out of it -- the armor didn’t fit, first off. She had gone from a scrawny, stick-like rogue with health issues to a healthy, athletic Knight. Weleria had laughed when she saw Eleeria trying to stick her arm into a hole made for a much smaller bicep several months ago for fun.
The other was that she had no real reason to. Why would she want to leave her plate armor? She was happy. Work was….fine. Blackheart was actually fine. The kind of fine she didn’t have to...
Rain
He blinked, squinting and tilting his head up. Rain. He couldn’t help grinning. He really enjoyed rain. He had not expected it here, at Brewfest, in Durotar, which was a desert. Silvermoon got it in controlled, scheduled showers the magistry allowed. This was at the call of a shaman and her elemental allies. She was dancing, calling the other troll shamans she was reveling with.
That was a great idea.
“Hey, Trisandrah, come here. Lets dance.” He offered his hand dramatically. It was a night for ridiculous flights of fancy. First the potions that made everything taste sweet (thank the gods he’d gotten that one!) and the roulette at the Menagerie. Now he wanted to dance with her in this magical rainshower. They’d drunk...
Spelled in Brewfest: Disaster
“No, no, no.” Tinnaire grimaced again, looking over her handiwork. This was too embarrassing.
She was talented. She knew what she was doing. She knew how anatomy worked. She knew countless ways of fixing this disaster. Or would have, but the client just kept insisting. It MIGHT have been cute. Maybe. Given a little more time and a little less indelicacy in subject. She could have done something with it that wouldn’t be … this.
“Oh yes, my dear! YES.” The goblin beamed and his teeth glinted gold.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Definitely am, toots!”
“It looks atrocious!”
“I think you mean it looks PERFECT.”
“... I’m not signing my name.”
“Fine by me. I paid ya. Our deal is done. I’ll take all...
The Wedding
5 - Sacrifice
(Set many years before the Fall of Quel'thalas.)
-
She should be proud for her daughter.
House Palecrest was one
of the most influential houses in the region. She was going to be a Lady
who held domain over a large swath of land. A good reputation.
Excellent social status.
I am yours and you are mine, together until the end of days.
She curls her fingers together in her seat so hard that her skin begins to turn a faint shade of white. Leonian reaches over, taking her hand so she can’t make a scene. He leans into her ear, his words barely audible, smiling all the while.
“Do not ruin this wedding, Ilaena.”
She smiles. Gently pats her eyes with her handkerchief.
This should be happy. She should be...
The Falling Apart
4 - Broken
( Set 5 years before the Fall of Quel’thalas. )
Mentions: Domestic Abuse.
–
The words that accompanied the sharp slap hurt more than the physical pain.
“You’re a frosty cunt.”
No, Ilaena decided – the sting to her pride hurt worst of all. Even as she fell to the floor, her hand cradling the red and swelling mark of a palm against her jaw. Even as Leonian reared back his foot, striking her in the ribs, the pride of it hurt most keenly.
They had been at a ball some hours before – her favorite place to be, most days. Surrounded by other beautiful people, able to leave her drunkard of a husband to his gambling and drinking friends, Ilaena could escape into the merriment. Flirt just enough with men...
5 - Rain
“Please stop crying, Lairen…”
The tears are waterworks today. The five year old is absolutely inconsolable; Eleeria picks her up, letting the tears stream down her shirt as she holds her daughter close.
“But I wanna color!”
“Honey, you can’t color on those. I need those for work.”
“NO!”
The small girl kicks and punches at her mother’s shoulder. Eleeria lets out a soft noise as she holds Lairen away from her body. Strong enough to hold the girl aloft while she screams and kicks, she seems particularly unable to handle the magnitude of tantrum today.The floor is wet at this point; Eleeria’s not sure how one small elf can produce so many tears.
“I WANNA!”
“Well, Lairen, you can’t. That’s just...
The Resurrection
4 - Breakthrough
(Set in July 2020)
-
Would she do anything for Weleria?
Of course she would. What a silly question that would be.
Weleria wanted to come back to life. What a reasonable thing to want.
The
interplay of draenic soul magic and death magic could do that. Would
she be breaking any laws? No. Moral laws perhaps. But when had Eleeria
Silverwing ever cared about morality?
As her joint magics worked together, carefully healing her wife’s soul and ever so gently transferring it from her old and broken body into a beautiful, new one, Eleeria couldn’t help but marvel at the power of it all.
Lyctora had told her that the First was generally a master of resurrection. Others may have more spiritual skills; the...
Like a Shadow
3 - Masks
(Set in the present time.)
-
She felt the heavy helm settle over her head, the uncomfortable stillness as it blocked out her measly sight from her injured eyes following swiftly after. Eleeria took a deep breath, trying not to let her anxiety get the better of her. She was not in the dark, alone; she was standing in the Cove, Ismene standing a few feet away from her. The older woman’s arms were crossed, her expression severe – or they had been, before she placed the suffocating contraption of leather and magic over Eleeria’s head and taken a step back.
Eleeria didn’t quite understand why Ismene had shown up in the Cove. She rarely understood what the older woman did on a good day – like a feral cat,...
The Dead Among Us
2 - Invasion
(Set in February 2020)
-
I can hear them. The ghosts, I mean.
Anara visited Blackheart, and being able to hear Alexander’s absolutely atrocious turns of phrase was….new. Unsettling. I don’t know if I like this – now it’s as if, having heard it once, I hear it all the time. Whenever I use my magic to see, it’s an assault of sound and noise. Screams, pleads, simple conversations…I can’t keep it all straight in my head.
Three years ago I thought I would go insane from paranoia. Now I know I’ll go insane surrounded by the noises of the dead.
Lyctora says it’s something I can learn to ignore. When? How? I’m so tired of turning my head to search for something that’s not there. I already know ...
The First Ascendant
Day 1 - First
( Set in February 2020 )
“You will lead us.”
Her hand is slapped from the air with force.
“Ridiculous. I’m not leading shit.” Eleeria’s voice echoes through the empty space, the sudden sharpness of her tone reverberating with a harsh ring. The person standing in front of her, all gaunt shadows and strange angles beneath her cowl, smiles and says nothing in turn. Nothing needs to be said, really.
So it was ordained, so it shall be.
“I’m not. I know you made some sort of deal with my wife – but my wife isn’t me. You can’t just – hold me accountable for it.”
“Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind if we took away the blessing we bestowed upon you.”
At last, the litany of complaints and...
Broken
No. That one was broken. … She remembered when she’d thrown it at a wall. She grimaced. Her hand rummaged through the draw and searched again. Ah! Oh. No. That one was broken, too. THAT had been water damage. Whoops. She kept searching. She knew there were at least two working models already on reserve for her; where had Pollux put them?
Khaeris was getting better at using the communicators. She’d had one for years now. Goblin made. Pollux made, times three (oops!). Other Pollux made, frequency unknown (at least in this time dimension). Each sturdier than the last. Her search paused a moment and a tiny frown pulled at her lips. She’d TRIED to break the last one by throwing it, and hadn’t been able. Pollux knew her too well.