Thanks to Leilah!

Thanks to LeilahKnight

by @calanus

art by Miss Behaviour.  Commissioned by Jiro.  

(TW: Blood, death.)

--

You have always been your fathers’ daughter.

There are still raven feathers coating your fingers; the dying caws of avians still sound in your ears, and though you know later you should apologize to Eli for the life being ripped from her friends, now you push it from your mind.

You move through the snow at a clipped speed, ducking between the trees with daggers in hand. You had the foresight to grab your armor and favored weapons before you disappeared into the mountains of Alterac without a trace, evading Lormeus’ increased patrols. Rarely do you use your rogue skills any longer, but there’s something refreshing about being free of obligation and people watching you. That thought alone makes...

Classes weren’t over yet, the children wouldn’t be home for another hour or so, still Niviene looked over her shoulder, half expecting to hear their footsteps on the stairs at any minute. She shook her head, not for the first time, admonishing herself for the guilt she felt. What she was doing wasn’t really wrong. She was the girl’s mother after all.

Still the priestess hesitated before finally dropping to her knees and pulling the quilt back to peer beneath the bed. Nothing. She sat back on her heels for a moment, scanning the room. She knew what it was like to hide things as a child. She’d been forced to hide her own dolls from her grandmother lest they be destroyed. Toys were a waste of time, grandmother had said, a...

“The flowers are as lovely as always Zara, thank you for bringing them.”

“You’re quite welcome doctor. I like to think they bring joy to the patients here, it’s such a dismal place after all. I don’t know how my sister stood it.” Zarastirra answered, a soft smile taking the sting from her words.

The doctor’s gaze hardened for a moment but he merely nodded, “And how is your sister these days?” he asked.

The woman glanced up from the vase she was placing flowers in, her brow furrowed slightly, “She does well. She is quite lucid. You would never know she had ever been ill.” Zara returned to the flowers, her fingers lingering on the bright red petals of the blood thistle she included in every bouquet she...

The woman sat across from the headmistress, her dark, shadow green hair shimmering strangely in the lamplight. Her face was still, like a dusky gray porcelain doll, with only the occasional blink. She listened intently, trying to determine where this line of questioning would take her, wondering if the shoe she’d been waiting to to drop was finally falling.

Niviene watched the alchemy teacher, looking for a hint of emotion but there was none, and it left the priestess more than a little unnerved, “I understand she has been spending time with you, more time than her classes require.” she paused then gave the woman a tentative smile, “Is my daughter showing an interest in potions?”

Nelandrys nodded, “Yes mistress, she is...

Niviene walked through the hallway with the laundry basket perched on her hip, her mind listing out the remaining chores that had to be done before she could start dinner, when she thought she saw something cross in front of her. She stopped, sky blue eyes scanning the top of the stairs, but she saw only shadows. Slowly she turned to look to the other end of the hall, only to see sunbeams streaming through the window and Max, her fat orange tabby cat, fast asleep in their warmth.

“Imaging things I guess.” She muttered to herself as she made her way toward the stairs with her basket. As she passed Korissa’s room, she could hear her daughter whispering. The priestess thought nothing of it, a child playing pretend with her dolls....

“Did you see him?” 

“Yeah, I saw him.”

“Well? Did you talk to him?”

The slight shake of the head accompanied by an almost inaudible, “No.”

“Why ever not? That’s the whole reason you came back wasn’t it?”

A shrug, “I guess. That was part of it anyway.”

“So. Why didn’t you talk to him?”

Regynn finally raised her head, her eyes glistening slightly in the lamp light, “He was with someone.” she shrugged before lowering her head to her sewing needle.

“Someone? Someone. Why that little…” 

“Clair no. It’s my fault. I went away without a word and stayed away. Without a word. It’s been ages since I spoke to him. Besides, we were always just friends anyway. Marc never saw me as anything...

Marachius stood next to the bar and worked on his cup of coffee. There was a good crowd and everyone seemed to be in fine spirits. He recognized a few of the people there, but not more than to nod as they passed on the street.

“Sorry you have to wait.”

Marachius looked back to the bar and the young lady now standing behind it. She was removing mugs from her tray and putting them in a wash basin behind.

“That’s okay, Tabitha,” he replied. “Gives me a chance to people watch.”

“Well, they’ve got someone coming in to help out. As soon as she gets here, I can leave.”

“That’s fine. That’ll give me time to finish my coffee.”

“Just holler out if you need a refresh,” Tabitha said. She put some fresh mugs of...

Sister Anetta cautiously opened the door to Sabina’s room. Two other priests stood behind her as the door slowly swung open. The three looked into the small room and then relaxed slightly.

“Guess she’s not here,” one of the priests said.

“I didn’t expect her to be,” Sister Anetta replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “Let’s look around and see if there’s anything here.”

The three priests stepped into the room and began looking around. One of the priests began looking at things that sat on the small desk in the corner of the room while the other knelt next to a chest and opened it to look inside. Sister Anetta knelt down next to the bed and peered underneath. She slid a small box our from beneath and lifted it...

Tinnaire’s eyes lit up, literally, and the felfire surged triumphantly over the beast below her. Adrenaline and magic dizzied her. Her breath caught in her throat, half in laughter and half in shock. The hem of her robes pressed against her shins, buffeted by the suddenly heated air that leapt away from the blackening bones. She heard the marrow pop and the laughter finally bubbled out. The witch in her soul soared even as the felhound staggered, dead before the demon’s flesh felt it.

The spell had been spectacular. And she turned on her heel, but her eyes rose to the skies over Suramar. A felbat fell with a satisfying thump against the stone, green embers scattering from the scorched fur. Waves green fire came out and whirled into...

Banagan walked around the yard of his new home and swung his wooden mace around. The almost-twelve year old listened to the weapon whistle as it sliced through the air. While he paced back and forth in the yard, Valiant lay on the ground with his chin resting on his crossed paws. The winged lion watched as the young man fought back against imaginary enemies.

“Take that,” Banagan grunted as he viscously attacked his adversary. “And that!”

Banny ducked and turned to attack something else behind him. He spun his mace around, adding flourishes to his imagined strikes. Suddenly, the young man dropped to his knee and lowered his head, as if dodging a dangerous swing. Spinning around, he counter-attacked with what he envisioned as a...

Marachius let out a quiet groan and pulled his pillow over his head. He and his roommates were just starting to wake up when the door had flown wide open with a bang and Nara and Leiana loudly entered.

“Rise and shine, buckos,” Nara called out as she plopped down on Kiernan’s cot. 

“Up-n-at ‘em, boys,” Leiana added as she landed on the foot of Marc’s cot.

“Shut up,” Lorn called out as he rolled over and pulled the blankets over his head.

“Oh ho,” Nara said with a grin. “You gents aren’t hung over, are ya’?”

“Maybe,” Marc answered sheepishly, looking out from under his pillow. “Why aren’t you two?”

“Because unlike you boys, we know how to hold our liquor,” Leiana said as she slapped at...

“Where are all the kobolds?”

Brother Sammuel looked around the clearing. Normally, the small creatures would be moving around, foraging, and generally causing mischief. But none could be seen. The area was calm except for the occasional cry from the birds in the trees, upset that there were intruders near their nests.

“Must be hiding,” one of the younger paladin trainees answered quietly.

“Yeah, but why? What has them spooked?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the paladin trainer spoke, silencing the chatter among the half dozen recruits that were following him. “Keep an eye out in case they start to get overly curious. Let’s check that cave,” he added, pointing to an outcropping ahead of them.

The paladins drew closer to...

Brother Sammuel stepped briskly through the main hall of the abby and stopped at the entrance to the Library wing. The paladin took a moment to calm his breathing before opening the door and stepping inside. He immediately saw Sister Annetta and Marshal McBride sitting at one of the tables and whispering animatedly. The paladin trainer stepped over to the table and stood quietly. After a moment, the marshal nodded and then looked up.

“What news, brother?”

“They have completed a head count. There are two individuals missing?”

“Who?” asked Sister Anetta.

“Krista and Sabina.”

“They’re sure?”

“Yes, ma’am. They’ve checked all the rooms. No one can account for either of them since breakfast yesterday morning....

Cathalia inspected the runes she’d drawn on her fingers with a careful eye, blowing on them to dry the paint. Drawn in shimmering violet magic combined with ink, they glowed in the low lighting of the stables as she examined them. Fumbling for her pen, she carefully jotted down notes. Step one complete. Paint on fingers. Runes to be activated by purple magic. Should be just a flick of wrist?

She examined her hands again. Spindled fingers were bonier by the day, though she didn’t really mind it. She had long since stopped caring about her appearance — not that she had much when she was alive either, though waking up sans jaw really put pretty into perspective. Still, the way the low light reflected off of her painted on magical...

Weekly Writing Challenge; Week 18 - Guilt

It was too late, she'd sent the messages. Maybe it was for the best. But maybe not. He was in the field. She shouldn't worry Pollux. No amount of 'Please don't worry' would help when say you need to talk.

Khaeris sighed, already feeling the pit in her stomach grow. It had been weighing her down since her talk with Dicenne. Pollux would get them, and he'd undoubtedly worry about the vague notes. She shoved the communicator into her pocket and looked around her wagon.

"My wife and I kept no secrets from each other."

Of course. She was messing it up with Pollux again. She moved to the sink full of dishes that needed washing.

"I'm not your therapist."

It still stung, and Khaeris had to be mindful and...