Melisande Meadowshine

Melisande Meadowshine possessed what she considered to be a mostly-useless form of soothsaying. So frequently she started an embroidery project with no recipient in mind. Perhaps I’ll sell it, she usually reasoned. Once, when it was the thing keeping her afloat, her talents commanded a decent price. Now, it had returned to its rightful place as her creative outlet, a way to commune with her matronly forebears. A way to make a person feel appreciated, seen. And, as ever, by the time she felt inspired to complete some half-finished thing, the proper recipient appeared. It was a mundane magic of sorts.

For Miss Selowyn, her answer of “green” as a favored color was enough to send Melisande scrambling through her desk drawers. A bit...

CW for mentions of domestic abuse, blood, some extremely vague adult themes

Crickets sing a riotous chorus outside, the music swelling and then quieting over and over in waves through my open windows. It accompanies the lullaby roar of the sea, sounding like home. The air itself is stiflingly still - an unusually hot night for Tol Barad. I’d returned from an evening in Silvermoon, prepared for the usual ritual of devouring chocolates and catching up on the daily paper, but I’m far too restless for either. Snorian shifts on his round cushion bed, a deep sigh and whuffle in response to the heat. Oh, to be a dog for just a moment, my only worries the temperature of the room and what I’ll have for breakfast tomorrow.

The scars on my...

Spring is here in full force now. The cliffs of Tol Barad are dotted with wildflowers, and the boughs of the fruit trees are near to bursting with blooms. Hopefully that means a decent harvest, somewhere down the line. Already I'm attempting to devise some cherry-based cocktails in my mind, for it looks as if we'll have plenty come late June.

I have business plans! Business plans, me. I can scarcely believe it, but I've been talked into at least giving it a go. I've designed some little embroidered necklaces. Then there are the wall hangings (of course, because apparently everyone loves “fuck” as much as I do, though I've got other things in the works)....perhaps some handkerchiefs? Baby bonnets? I'll have to to sit down and...

Last night was a little quieter than I expected. But most of our usual crowd came (save Mr. Blacksong and Lady Ael….I do hope they haven't gone for good), and with a few new faces besides.

Handrin came to visit us! I was quite pleased, actually. He always makes the day a little brighter. I didn't see Derin last night (unsurprising, given his seeming allergy to crowds), but I'm glad we're luring him out more nonetheless. Everyone needs friends around them. He admitted a few nights ago that he'd been to jail...for what? Public nerding out isn't a crime, near as I can tell. Perhaps there's more to him than meets the eye. I'll continue my campaign of kindness, see if we can't bring him into the fold.

And then there's Ren. Where do I...

Melisande welcomed a day off. It'd been a long week - a long month, really. A long year, the changes flying fast and furious. Losing her longtime job, killing her father, falling in love for the first time...it was all so very much.

She had no plan in place. Instead she wandered Silvermoon, speaking to whomever caught her eye. There was a merc with a bundle of swords on his back, a doe-eyed healer with a kind smile that mirrored her own, an elder statesman clad in ranger armor she hadn't seen since she was a young girl.

The young woman purchased a portal to Orgrimmar. An idea that had once been so foreign and terrifying to her had now become simply another opportunity. A Forsaken man chomping on a banana had been her company there...

Yesterday had been an absolute disaster. Bringing three six-year-old girls and a toddler boy to an egg hunt in Falconwing Square had been an idiotic idea, Melisande acknowledged. The cranky, tired tears of her charges and chocolate smears all over her person had been proof.

The youngest of the Heart of the Raven's wards had other ideas, however. “Oh Miss Melisande, can we go again? Please pleeeeease? It's the most fun I've ever had.”

They were in the newly-rejiggered bunk room where the children stayed now. All the others had flown off to their respective favorite places: the eldest to Naz’s smithy, the twins to Shade's house, the middle boy down to the kitchens to assist Mao, who could be relied upon for coppers, kindness,...