Khaeris Dawndancer

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...

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.

Daily Writing Challenge 2020, Day 2

Pyraelia had not minded. Khaeris had not asked.

But there she was, moving through a meadow with her friend walking beside her. It felt good to move. It lightened her heavy heart and she welcomed the distraction her invasion of Pyraelia’s space had brought her.

Pollux had been deployed this morning, and straight away after seeing him off, she’d shot over to Pyraelia’s place.

Sheep, cats, grass, and sunshine. Just what she needed. There was a breeze that tugged on leaves that were starting to crisp and she felt that damp chill that clung to things in autumn. Pyraelia had tucked phlox into both their hair. Sturdy boots made a satisfying thunk on the earth with every step. They were...

Daily Writing Challenge 2020, Day 1

It was, now that she was in the thick of it, perhaps not the best day to be tidying up in this particular manner.  Letters and small trinkets lay scattered around the tiny fold down table in her vardo. All pulled one-by-one out of the small wooden chest she’d kept. They were sentimental things, and usually she was very unattached to such things. But these were some that still tugged at her heartstrings. Familiar handwriting recalled familiar voices.

She’d only meant to come back to the wagon for an hour or so. Pollux was being called back out soon. Tomorrow, in fact. But he was gone into a briefing--she assumed--and he wouldn’t be back until later in the evening. So the minutes marched by...

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...

It was quiet. She sat on the floor of her wagon, slumped and still. She was tired. The sobbing had stopped and she was numb. Owlishly blinking, only slowly did she come back. Shadows lay thick around her, swirling in a soft fog with her every breath. Her skirt was wet where she'd spilled the vase in her lap. She didn't  notice.

Khaeris looked around the dark interior. The soft light the arcane runes Helal had scribed for her had faded to a thin paleness over the last two years. Her curtains and shutters were closed, her plants temporarily at Pollux's apartment and the automatic watering globes he'd rigged for her previously. The wagon looked tired, too, she decided.

Even the small parcels looked quiet. But the air smelled of fresh...

Time started again as the softness of the night bloomed again and her ears rang with the after-echos of previous booms and pops. She blinked and the memory of the fountains of color and bright burned still. But it was over and it was just a memory.

Fireworks were one of her favorite things. Lunar Festival, therefor, was one of her favorite times of year. The beautiful displays ranged from big to small, from simple snaps against the stone path to the stunning flashes and shimmers that hung in the sky. There were paper lanterns enchanted to float and streamers that flutter in breezes.  Sparkles and shimmers flashed at the corners of your eyes. Flowers every direction you looked.

It wasn't easy to forget that an Old God was...

No one on Azeroth was untouched by War. From the tiniest babe to the oldest crone. She was no different, even though she'd spent considerable personal effort to avoid the wars. She was no fighter in any traditional sense. She wasn't ashamed to say she'd fled the Scourge at Silvermoon. She knew how to hide. She knew how to distract. She knew how to inspire others to be protective.

The Fourth War--the Blood War--was over. That's what they said. Pollux was home more. Briefings and basic work, but home nearly every evening. Work on prosthetics.  She worked at the clinic, but babies and sinuses snuck up and started out numbering rehabilitations. Mercenaries relaxed and laughed in bars. Spies quietly pooled their information in shadows....

The bite of the cider faded only slowly on Khaeris’s tongue. She’d maybe spiked it a little too much. … Maybe. Ha, oh well! No one to know but herself and Pollux. She smirked and took another full drink, holding it in her mouth and picking out flavors as she looked over the quiet Bazaar. People were at home celebrating and sharing food, occasionally people would walk past. She knew them some, Pollux’s neighbors, and they would wave and wish her a happy holiday. Contentment tried to cocoon her. She tried not to fight it.

It was a good day. It had been a small meal, just the two of them, but she was happy for that, too. Pollux had been able to be home more the last month or so. But she didn’t plan on him being there. Even...

"Well this isn't Silvermoon..." Khaeris turned around and peered. No, it wasn't Silvermoon at all. She looked back over her shoulder to where the portal had been only a moment prior. No trace of it remained except the slight tingle of the arcane over her skin and it was already fading fast.

"Huh." She spun in another circle and her lips pressed together. She knew where she was. The sky blue and much too close, the spires were tall, and there were a few other travelers in the portal room. The Kirin Tor attending the room bustled her  out the door with an efficiency born of hours of practice. Dalaran.

"Gods and goats." She tried to be annoyed, but she wasn't. She laughed and dug at her pocket knowing what she'd find--her coin purse gone....

The facility in the center of Nazmir was massive. Khaeris eyed it. There would be no denying the thrill of it. And she'd heard it was mostly cleared out now. Mostly.

She rolled her lips and watched as one of those horrible blood ticks crawled out from under a half-burned hut. Clearly it was holing up there, now that the blood trolls were eradicated in the area. Or maybe it had lived there before? She wrinkled her nose. What did they even feed on to get that big? It turned her stomach just to think about it. One of the huge brutosaurs maybe?

Her raptor clicked his tongue in agitation and Khaeris agreed. Her hand rested on his powerful neck, caressing to soothe. They turned away from Uldir and kept to the road heading east. To Torga....

Their god have been vanquished, but the Blood Trolls had not all been made aware--or maybe they were just in denial. Khaeris wasn't sure.

There was a village just off this path, but she was careful and swung around it wide. But not  wide enough that she didn't pas near to a small shrine. It had once been to some other loa, but now it had been taken over by the blood trolls for their own uses. A few stone bowls and tablets sat waiting f or their next use and there was a large flat altar.

Khaeris shuddered and kept her raptor moving. They were all old, but the implements were all bloodstained. She would have liked to inspect things more, if she was being honest, but it didn't seem wise, on her own as she was.

She gathered that the temple wasn't as quiet at it had been just a few months ago. Spirits poured their way in and she never saw any come out.

There were priests and dedicates around the temple, but they moved with their own purposes and paid little mind to a wandering elf by herself. They had bigger Deaths to think about. They were their own sort of wraith and drifted in and out of  Khaeris's vision nearly as ephemerally.

Khaeris was curious, and her own feet moved her forward in halting steps, unsure how the ritual worked. Would walking inside bind her? She could feel the thrum of heaviness even in the ground around her. Her spirit reverberated with the sheer number of souls that were blooming around her. The superstitious part of her...

The Sethrak ruins were stark to her, but she liked the stone and all the statues. History she'd never known before the past year came into focus and she let it reflect into her. The lines were hard but the colors soft. The roots of the place felt old, even when she compared it to the ancient societies of elves. It wasn't clear: were the Sethrak as old as the trolls?

She made her way to the top of the temple and snapped a few more pictures. She was sending less of them, and getting less in return. She'd bought a few baubles, but mostly kept her coin for necessities. She knew she should think about going back soon. But she wanted to see Nazmir, too. Maybe tomorrow she'd start to head east.

The whole continent was magical. The great seals....

Khaeris pulled her knees up to her chest and lay her cheek on them, still smiling. Her ears flickered with the popping snaps of the fire and the rush of the wind through the nearby canyon; but she was more interested in the voices around her.  Night didn't hush things here, sound raced over sands.

She couldn't understand what the vulpera families were saying between themselves, but the mixed company was a mish-mash of different races and languages. The accents soothed her and the laughter made her smile. Someone a few wagons away was singing a lullaby, she found herself humming along. Voices from strangers floated around her like water, lapping at her mind and retreating in seductive waves. She could drown in this, with no fear, numb...

He probably thought it was lost. No, just stolen. Borrowed. She was in the habit of taking them when he was gone, and she had been quite conscious of packing this one for her trip. It was soft and crisply white. The buttons were neat and tight, though she had to roll up the cuffs and hadn't bothered to button it fully. It didn't smell like him--it smelled like fresh laundry and had that slight dusty smell that came from months in a drawer. But he always looked so nice in them. It made her smile to wear it and think of him. So she drank a lazy cup of tea in her rented bed and his shirt.

The desert was full of life, if you knew where to look. Khaeris didn't, not yet, but she was learning. After only a day in Vol'dun she was enraptured with the place. The Vulpera had been welcoming and warm to her, and she was beyond delighted with the robust alchemical studies their culture utilized. She had stayed the day in the town on the main caravan roads. Their wagons were different than her people's, but the feel of them was the same. She instantly felt more at home there than she had anywhere else in years.

She pulled her braid over her shoulder and peered through the little curtain of the wagon she had rented. The rapidly cooling breeze was refreshing over her warmed skin. The smell of the cooking food from the fires teased...

She frowned down at the little device in her lap. She was using it more lately, but it still managed to defy her frequently. And it never helped when she was drunk. Which she was. She blew out her breath and puffed her cheeks as she tried to pull two thoughts together.

They bounced apart like magnets.

Her eyes narrowed and she pressed her fingertip against the screen. There was a small rumble from it, but it flashed and went dark again.  She pressed the trasmit button and waited for it to give her the code input screen, but it didn't. She tried each again two more times. She considered throwing it.

It was no use. The device was locked. She was frozen out of her own device! How rude. ... She'd tried too many times. She had wanted to...

Click! Clack-clack-clack~

Verisimi smiled to herself, it had been a good hit. Her fingers toyed with the smooth surface of the mabler shooter as she . She often played with the glass beads when she needed to unwind or take a moment out of her thoughts. Though she often played alone, practicing and slipping into a meditative state calculating angles and trajectories.

The set had been gifted to her by her mother as a girl. It always made her think of home. There were plenty of times she'd fiddle with them to bring herself back to center.

((Posted on the wrong blog!))

She'd been sending so many messages. Pictures. Quips. Tiny connections she was desperate for, even as she left them all behind.

Khaeris knew it was a ruse parading as levity. She was running, but her problems would follow her. Confrontation was inevitable and disastrous. Still, with every step, the trip was already lightening her heart.