Lilliana Whitedawn

Nathrezim

She wasn’t sure if it was her heartbeat, or the bass, that rattled her ribcage; if it was the flashing lights that kissed the tops of her tanned shoulders, or the lithe elf with the high, hollow cheekbones that flashed with glitter; if that taste on her tongue was his lips, the memories, or the drugs.

Like a flea-ridden purebred, was the magic city - or was it more like a whore too prettily painted? Dalaran, proper and upstanding. But all those mages had to cut loose somewhere...as did the innumerable members of Horde, and Alliance looking for a break from the constant war. Tomorrow, they’d cut each other’s throats. Tonight, they’d drink and fuck and forget...

In a place like this, the more exotic, the better - thus horns and wings and hooves were a call to all the hungry, too-skinny bodies. She was the drug...the siren’s song, the pulse of lust in their veins, and she didn’t have to struggle to shut it all off. 

They wanted to feel alive, and the horned woman whose body moved too perfectly in sync with the pulse of music - and mood - provided. In time they had their fill, and paired off - on the dancefloor, in a booth, in a room, it didn’t matter to her. Were those round glasses still watching her, or had he gone on with a normal, human life? She didn’t look to see; didn’t want to know, not in truth. Easier to pretend he was there, king of this dark place where she’d had so much of her ‘tutelage.’

Flashes of bodies, sweat and glitter-streaked, passed by in the brief seconds of light - bathed in the multi-colored lights that moved just a little too fast for drug-addled minds. It wasn’t that the demonic cravings alone had sent her here, no. Long before any corruption, she’d been led to this place by another...had fed on the pulse of this place that embodied such wild abandon. Yet so rarely had she swum in the sea of bodies, then. Always above it, always at the side of the -

Another drink, glittering and pink, swept past her lips. Not him. She was not here for him. Not to even think about him. 

Drown the guilt. She’d said no to one hit, and in a matter of days had sought out a club with any drug she could want...and some she certainly didn’t. And not just to feed on the lust, but to be the source. 

The only thing she didn’t think she’d find here, was a place to put all this violence in her mind. But in the Underbelly, gold could buy you anything.