Leonaess Dawnbinder

Coming Home

Oily rich petals, intoxicatingly wicked with fel taint floated and drifted incessantly about her mind. Thoughts swirling much like the moonwell, trying in vain to fight against seeping corruption before gurgling and spitting out poisonous fumes as the purity was drained. It hurt her somewhere deep down, watching that female’s spidery digits crush and maim the sickened flora with such pleasure. How she hated the Kaldorei people, how she despised anyone who opposed the great Sin’dorei faction, gilded and burning beneath the blazing sun till crimson spilt bloody.

And yet, Leonaess hadn’t lifted a finger to stop Lydira, her stomach coiling into knots that made her feel terribly sick. Not helpless but...fascinated by how easy Elune could let such a travesty happen in something so blessed. As her shoulder pressed against the door to her cottage, aura soother could almost hear the creak of bones as she stepped upon the decimated corpses of Darnassian invaders; dusting ashes and earth eaten skin to leave rags on bleached marrow.

The cottage deep in the Silverpine woods was empty, no lingering traces of her midnight visitor but the disastrous mess left behind caused a heavy sigh to pass lips. Butterpaws was seated upon his pillow once more. Had Varynoth set it back to rights or was it the clever rabbit who situated it? Shutting the door behind her, the skimmed edges of her robes swished about booted feet, reaching forward to grab at the misplaced books that bore small chips from ragged claws. All was soon set to rights, verdant eyes dancing over the new scuffs her precious textual collection held. A hand brushed over the beloved picture that had been a gift, the corner of her mouth curling into a smile.

She’d prove him wrong, she’d prove her wrong. There was still good to be found in her yet and light that burned to sear ill away with the truth of intentions but there was an anger in her breast that surprised the newly nicknamed ‘ dove ‘. How many feathers would need to be plucked and stained black?  

The ruined cookies still distorted atop the tray were tossed out, a small disgruntled furrow on her brows. Those had taken her all day to grab the appropriate ingredients and bake. Throwing all thoughts of the troublesome Illidari aside, it was almost futile as it wandered back to reptant tongue in it’s slither and smug smirk with crooked settlement that had started minutely to turn into a smile. A small win that she’d take amongst what somehow felt like loses in the past couple days.

The bundles of herbs scattered and crushed upon the floor were salvaged and hung up once more, the rest swept up with broom and tossed alongside the ruined confectionary.

Vengeance and sandalwood lingered, a pungent reminder of the visitor who came in like a horned hurricane and then slipped muscled carapace out in the early morning hours. That wafted remain of scent and stirred realizations stayed with her as she moved about her comfortable home to clean and set it back to rights. Gliding down the hall, pausing to look towards the guest bedroom as if expecting burning eyes to greet her from inside the softly lit doorway.

Hand paused on the handle of the bathroom door, fighting back a smirk as the manipulator dipped inside to wash away the strangeness of the past two days.

What do you turn into when you start consorting with a demon-consuming, muffin-spearing Illidari and the sly poisonous wiles of a dangerous fel-witch?

Water nor tears would be able to wash away that revelation.