Hale Cress

Home is Where the Heart is

                                                          .Greed.Pride.Wrath.

The horizon bled into an array of bloody pinks and aggressive reds which kissed the horizon with a tinge of deepening blue from the retreating night. Below the prattle of soldiers carried throughout the entirety of what was left of Brill. Buildings were demolished and what good wood was left was used to construct their assault towers. The Alliance assault decimated the small town in a matter of hours with little resistance from the main Horde forces setting up at the bulwark of the towering city a league or two ahead. The assault towers were in complete working order and nearest the very apex is where Ottavia sat high above with one leg swung over the wooden perch, between her fingers the dim flare of a rolled cigarette burned. It wasn’t permissible but she wanted to gaze toward her former home. In her minds eye she could see it within its full glory with alabaster stone, lush greenery, and the sound of those all too familiar bells tolling as far as Silverpine.

Ottavia’s attention swung down to the arrangement of leathers swathed about the entirety of her form coupled with sheets of well fitted mail and plate along her chest and shoulder, the rove of her gaze ceased when she glanced at her side to where a set of particular daggers laid among their impressively designed sheaths. Perching the smoke at the corner of her mouth she freed one from its holding with a soft whisper of steel escaping leather. The curved dark contours of the blade shimmered well within the dim lighting of the coming dawn and as she inhaled from her vice the potent sheen of the cherry flaring to life seemed to soak within the black.

The Ritualist signed a bout of smoke through her nose as she set the center of the blade against the metallic underside of her clawed appendage. There it teetered to and fro perfectly balanced and unperturbed and before long the weapon was returned to its resting place at her hip. She gave turn ever so slightly to glance down to where she and her kin found rest. It wasn’t in her nature to disturb Hale during her hours of slumber, Light only knew everyone needed as much as they could get yet Ottavia was restless. The drive for spilling blood and conquering her home country drove her to restlessness.

In quick succession she descended from her perch, clawed fingers digging steadily within the wood to better guide her way down till the splatter of wet earth coated her boots. Flicking her smoke aside it died upon contact with the ground and as she went to find another her gait was halted once she reached their tent.

“Do you remember during the summer months catching the fireflies in bottles?” Hale asked and she looked up from adjusting her belt. It wasn’t known how long she had already been awake but her twin was met with a familiar and warm smile, perhaps the only kindness that was ever truly reserved for her, “It seems like a lifetime ago, perhaps a different place. These lands…barely hold a remnant of what they once were.” the priest spoke once more; as if though she was speaking aloud or to herself in the memory she just found herself tethered to.

Ottavia always had a habit of listening and only speaking when she thought she had something to add. The pair were close, even across long distances and the two together was a recipe for bloodied chaos and disaster. If there was one thing their Lordaeron blood and heritage taught them, it was how to survive. It showed. It showed with how the two came prepared with their carefully crafted armor as if though this was a day they were born for, that they knew would come all along, all these years.

Fire was in their veins and vengeance on their mind. There was a pulse of adrenaline in Hale’s vessel as she knew the city itself fell because of their trusted Prince but now, it was anger that hardened her as they now waged to try and tear the very city from the grasp of the Horde.

That was their land.
Their city.

Hale wore all leathers which was typically unbecoming of a Priest as the archetype was typically swathed in robes and bright colors littering the back lines but Hale was every bit her sister’s counterpart at a distance and the shadows at Ottavia’s back. A raven Priest decked in protective leathers and pieces of thin plate and linked mail which made for decent mobility and much like her sister, she fashioned a pair of daggers to her hips for anything that might have become close quarters. Finally her hand met Ottavia’s mantle followed by a firm and fond squeeze, “Good morning. As quiet as you can be with sneaking out of your sleeping bag there is always that weird nagging feeling that tells me you are skulking around. Almost like a sixth sense. A twin-sense.” She joked.

A touch of a smile struck to the corner of Ottavia’s lips as she felt the pressure of her sister’s hand resting upon the slope of her mantle. In tandem the Ritualist eased her hand from its post at her side and gently covered her sister’s knuckles with the cold press of her sharp metallic adornments.

“Good morning..” She spoke softly, “I hadn’t suspected I’d leave you without your notice. It’s somewhat of a penchant of yours.” That grin tugged all the more steadily to the corners of her lips as her wrist gave a twist in order for Ottavia to peel her sister’s hands from her shoulder to better approach her for an embrace. It was quick and succinct, as most of Ottavia’s displays of affection were, but it was laden with purpose and she felt the gesture reciprocated.

“Today is the day.” She muttered against Hale’s armored shoulder as the pinprick of her gaze stared across the way toward the decimated landscape of Brill. “Today we take our home back.” Peeling herself free Ottavia took to Hale’s side to better admire the decrepit view of the city of Lordaeron. Within its weathered stone walls the impression of torch light burned and atop the bulwark she could see several unidentified bodies patrolling. It caused a fire to swell within the center of her chest.

“We’re going to kill them.” The beast within her roused, causing the hairs at the back of her neck to rise. “All of them.” Perhaps in this moment Hale witnessed Ottavia’s true intent. The deep, dark, and unrelenting seed which had years to fester and flourish finally bloomed into its full glory and it sang to her: kill.

A gentle leathered clap came to Ottavia’s hip that was delivered from Hale, “Like a bloodsport, that’s why we’re here. Oh and before I forget–” the Priest smirked and dove a hand into the front of her bodice to produce a long thin vial of red liquid. To anyone who knew Hale, they would have suspected this wasn’t something to place to one’s lips for a quick nip. With a tigerish grin, Hale pulled it from her person and offered it sidelong to her kin, “For your daggers. It burns on contact which I am sure you can appreciate. Have a bit of fun with your work; sears the flesh like butter with the slightest amount of heat or friction.”

There was an expelled breath when Hale finally looked upon the tall walls of Lordaeron, it almost pained her to see it like this after so long. Had it not been for the fact it was once her home then perhaps for the simple reasoning of how far it had been let go. Several parts of various courtyards she knew was harbored on the other side was showing signs of crumbling and packing decay which trailed all along the walls. SYlvanas seemed content in allowing the city to rot.

It was once a beautiful city bolstering with life and now it looked every by the mirror image of those Forsaken called it home – grey and lifeless.

The shimmer of crimson prompted the most devilish of grins to splay across Ottavia’s mouth and when presented she accepted it happily drawing it to the light in order to inspect its deadly contents. “Such gifts you give.” The Ritualist intoned in a manner which implied her contentment with the vials description. “Each enemy I strike down will sear in agony and they will know our name because of it.”

She had long known that this day would come eventually, and that without question, Ottavia would be on the front lines, leading the battle herself, if she could have her way. Sihdiel, on the other hand, lacked the familial and emotional ties to the city and spent more time than she would have cared to admit pondering her own involvement in it. They had boasted and bantered about using it as an excuse to make gold, but in her heart of hearts she knew the only way that would be a reality, would be if it was pulled from the blood of the fallen. Even now as she weaved her way between the troops readying themselves and checking their weapons a second and a third time, she was lost in thought on why she was here at all. But at some point, her own stake in this had become… a little more personal.

Finally, through the thick of the fog, smoke, and oil among other things wafting through the air, a familiar scent drew her attention and she found herself taking a quick turn and darting among the tents towards the one she had been looking for for the better part of the last half hour. A tall and beastly shadow loomed in their doorway for a moment before unceremoniously stepping in, revealing a sight seldom seen these days. Sihdiel stepped in decked in full armor of leathers and pieces of plate, scimitars crossed at her back with her bladed claws tapping lightly at her hips.

“Hey,” she started, muffled until she removed the helm fashioned in the image of a wolf, tugging the cloth down from around her face and offered lopsided grin, “I wanted to come see you off.. personally.” Gold eyes glanced to the side before stopping to regard the Ritualist’s twin. She bowed her head briefly, “Hale. It’s good to see you again and well, too.”

Whatever addendum Ottavia sought to offer to her sister was clipped by the approach of a familiar scent drifting through the murk of former Brill and when Sihdiel’s silhouette emerged from the shadows her expression dropped if only momentarily. In her mind an array of queries and accusations surfaced, none of which made it to the light of day as she turned her armor clad frame toward her counterpart. 

“I suspected you’d be home awaiting me.” Ottavia teased. In hindsight it was a sight to behold having both her kin and lover at her side. Without preamble she stepped forward with the habitual clamor of her attire following her gait as she wrapped her arms around Sihdiel’s waist, tugging the woman forward in order to press their foreheads together. “Mo grá” She uttered affectionately before turning on heel to face Hale. Her hand found purchase against the pommel of her blade with the other idly turned the vial betwixt her metallic thumb and forefinger almost eager to apply it to her weaponry.

Familiar eyes had settled upon Sihdiel the moment she entered and had it not been for Ottavia, those emerald pools would not have been recognizable. There was a connection, in that very instant that Hale had made with how Ottavia spoke and touched this woman – it was a fondness she had not seen her sister exude before beyond words and one that Hale seemed to beam at instantly. She had laid eyes upon the woman before, in passing and perhaps many years ago between her trips to and from Dalaran – back when her father had still sent her away for training, a lot of good that did.

The words of endearment had not been lost on her and it prompted a center of kindness from the Priest when the two faced her. She was typically the one out of the two sisters who shown more expression through touch and more upbeat words but in this moment the only thing she could think of was to throw her arms around the two, connecting the three in a small embrace and her hands at each of their crowns when the sides of their heads met, “This place seems fitting for this. We’ve left an old life behind that we now have come back to honor and we’ve also, in a sense moved on into a new chapter.” the raven Priest pulled away to regard the two and not overstep her boundaries, “After this….I think we need a few drinks and you both can tell me about your travels together or what brought you both to this point in your lives. For the first time in a long time, like this, I am happy.” 

Sihdiel’s cheeks flushed the smallest amount, and there was a hint of a genuine shy smile before she cupped Ottavia’s cheeks to pull her forehead down enough to press a soft kiss against her skin before stepping back, only to be pulled back into an embrace between the two twins. She found it easy enough to settle into the gesture, finding a strange sense of comfort in her newfound family, something she hadn’t realized she had been missing until recently.

“This is… It is nice,” she finally agreed, nodding and stepping back and putting a small bit of space between herself the the siblings. She found her gloved fingers idly running along the needles stored along the length of her gauntlets, an anxious gesture easily mistaken for one of making sure she was ready and all her gear was in place. “I’m glad I got to stop by and offer.. you know.. a little moral support and all that,” she waved a hand dismissively before tugging up the deep red cloth over the lower half of her face again. Despite the efforts to hide her feelings, there was a nervous tinge to her voice when she addressed Ottavia.

“I wanted to see you before it all starts, and ends. I won’t–can’t–fight in the midst of it all like you can, you’re better suited to that,” she cast another glance at Hale, feeling her nerves settle a bit knowing there would at least be someone at her back. It was still a strange feeling to know they were walking into the same battle, but not at each other’s side. “Be safe out there, love. I’ll be in the shadows doing what I do best.” The wolf helm was then restored upon her crown, allowing only the dim glow of her eyes to shine through. “To victory.”

“I want to be an Aunt someday.” Hale offered with a wolfish grin towards her sister, perhaps she had spoken albeit too openly and the hands on her hips wasn’t about to make the dream come alive any time soon. 

Affection wasn’t the strongest attribute to Ottavia’s disposition but the warmth of her kin and lover prompted but the smallest smiles to pique at the corners of her mouth as she bowed her head and coiled an arm about her sister’s mantle, offering them both an equal amount of attention. Just the Ritualist eased her head to regard the two and perhaps extend a rather coiled rejoinder a blaring of horns resounded about the land. From its crescendo a myriad of hollering troops blared, stomped, and marched from their tents and holds lifting their weapons high into the air.

With a nod of her head Ottavia addressed the two before pulling up the tucked sheet of leather across the lower half of her face. Without further preamble the Ritualist quickly applied the deadly venom to her blades as she departed their tent grinning all the while at the thought of just how potent it would be. The air was thick with pride as armor clad soldiers barked and chanted their songs and praise.

“FOR THE ALLIANCE!” they roared yet the only melody clamoring in her mind was that of: For Lordearon!