Zaravala Nightcaller
There's a room where the light won't find you
Hallways once filled with life and laughter, with a pact made between siblings. A home built by loving parents and dutiful children. A place for growth and learning, torn asunder by the petty wiles of the elite. Whispers of memories past flowed from the walls as if spoken by the stones themselves, somewhere down abandoned corridors a screams of the dead rang out. Mental static mixed with deft footfalls on broken ground.
"Enough, Zaravala."
His voice echoed through her head. The terrified look on his void touched face as the light slipped from his mates eyes. The smell of blood. She scrunched her nose at an unseen smell. Visiting only to retrieve her glaives and mask, already proved to be a poor choice.
The crimson haired nightmare...
OOC
Story in order:
First letter: https://zaravalanightcaller.tumblr.com/post/176542881811/letters-to-the-lost-one-resting-with-her-back-up
Response: https://dizaraksanar.tumblr.com/post/176564496655/worthless-worry-the-large-chiseled-bartender-stood
Second Letter: https://zaravalanightcaller.tumblr.com/post/176679452996/lost-cause
On the front line: https://dizaraksanar.tumblr.com/post/176724784505/starkissed-skies-a-cool-breeze-drifted-across-the
The day of:https://dizaraksanar.tumblr.com/post/176787975395/one-last-time
Bloodied Fists and Painted Lips
The pounding of fists against ground was far less satisfying than it would be against his skin, the rain pouring down, splashing against the dirt and what bare flesh peeked around leather upon her frame. Crimson locks hung heavily toward the soil as she fruitlessly beat the wet surface, her masked face a barrier to the world. Hands a knees, a position ill suited for the demon hunter, whose usually strict and proud stance now crumpled beneath her in the mess of rainwashed terrain.
Face the skies, worthless monster. Her memories echoed through her head and she obeyed, turning the open maw of her mask to the heavens, a place she knew she would never grace.
"What the fuck do you want from me!?" her voice echoed within her cover but rang...
Say Nothing
The bay was calm and quiet, the warm glow from the windows of the humble tavern acting as a comforting beacon to its patrons in the dimming evening light. Soft leather boots left subtle marks upon the dirt as a females form approached the establishment.
Weeks have flown by and despite her best efforts the Ren'dorei's face lingered in her mind, after centuries of nothing, suddenly he'd thrown himself back into her life and it almost cost him dearly. She clenched a gloved fist and paused just outside the door. What would she do if he indeed was here? Even more so what would she do if he was not... with a shake of crimson locks she pointed her masked face to the building once more before making her entrance. Her eye's scanned the room...
Come With Me
A figure could just be made out skulking through the chaos occasionally scooping gas masks on the unfortunate souls with no hope of revival under their own will, or dragging those clinging to the last threads of life to the small encampment full of her fellow guild mates. Upon depositing 3 more masks and a severely injured Night elf to the waiting arms of medics, Zaravala stood, shifting her glaives on her back before ducking out to the battlefield once more.
She praised the God's that she had not caught sight of her brother, the thought churning her stomach.
Upon locating another injured capable of being helped she carefully began dragging it across the ground.
She tugged harder on the body when she heard his voice yelling her...
Lost Cause
Surprising silence drifted across landscape, broken only by Zaravala's gear shifting as she padded towards the water edge around the outer wall of of the crumbling city. Easing her way down the bank, the woman paused a moment to remove the gloves from her hands, slipping them through her belt to hold them against her. Lowering herself to the stony damp ground, glancing around the clearing and sure she was alone she slipped the mask off and rested it on her knee.
Zaravala reached forward and stuck her hands in the cool water bringing her damp palms to pat her warm cheeks, careful to avoid her own reflection.
The Demon Hunter slipped a hand into her pouch and pulled another envelope from its depths, still sealed, her brother's scrawling...
Letters to the Lost One
Resting with her back up against one of the few tress not wildly ablaze, the Illidari, slipped her gloves from her hands and draped them across her raised knee. Weeks of constant battle, order after order and gruesome vision after grueling death, even the stoic Demon Hunter was beginning to show signs of uneasiness.
Plucking her water-skin from her hip, she gingerly popped the cork and lifting it to the open maw of her mask, skillfully pouring it within, she lapped up the water until the dry scratching at the back of her throat eased.
Footfalls near by had her to her feet and glaives at the ready once more, the source of water tossed by the wayside in her haste. Before her stood a slightly startled mage an oddly pristine envelope...
| Age | Middle age in appearance |
| Eye Color | Fell Green |
| Height | 5'8" |
| Body shape | Tall and thin |
| Residence | Dalaran |
| Realm | Wyrmrest Accord - US |
