The abrupt ring of the bell on the shop door had the sisters tense as Kyalith moved greet the courier on the other side. She gave him a few small coins then turned back to Clair, a plain brown packet held gingerly in her hands. “Do you think this is it?”

Clair raised a brow and smirked, “Gee, I don’t know. Are you expecting any other hand delivered envelopes from Stormwind?”

The redhead’s cheeks flushed pink as she handed to parcel to her sister, “I guess this is it then.” she replied sheepishly.

The elder sister pulled a dagger from her belt and sliced the packet open then pulled a thick sheaf of papers out. She read the top sheet then handed it to Kya, “It says some of it’s redacted for security reasons.”

I know you saw me in the Barrens because I caught you looking in my direction. If those blue and gold flags you stood behind were gone, I would have greeted you properly.

Perhaps you did not even recognize me, which may be for the better; I do not need my identity revealed before those of the Horde, nor the Alliance. But, for a moment there, did your memory go back to the cafe across from the park when Dalaran was still upon the ground?

When we met you were just a young student at the academy and my master was an instructor on the arcane. I would spend each afternoon lounging alone, drinking a coffee, with a paper in my hand. You would walk by every day, even though you hated coffee, and sit near the chestnut tree. Your blush and...

(( another headcanon ask. ))

pearl: a mental health headcanon
Besides substance and alcohol abuse and dependence, Dimetri could be treated for bipolar disorder, insomnia, and fetishistic disorder. He goes from lack of all motive to erratic anxiety and panic attacks that will cause him lack of sleep. However, he's yet to be officially diagnosed.

mother of pearl: if my muse tends to lift people up or bring them down
He doesn’t really think about other people often, but when he does he usually assumes they are better than him at something vitally important and will heavily compliment said person on it.

rubellite: if my muse has any ‘triggers’ that inspire painful memories
Seeing twins is an extremely big one for him - his first...

The well-dressed gentleman stopped at the end of the walkway and looked at the simple home at the end. He tugged his traveling coat closed and frowned slightly. Letting out a quick breath, he walked down the path to the front door. He glanced at the windows before finally knocking on the door. After a few moments, he heard the latches on the inside sliding against the wood and the door started to open. Inside, an older man with braided hair peered out. 

“Yes?”

“May I speak with Braghaman Larethian?”

“Depends. Who’s asking?”

“I represent someone from the city who wants to propose a business offer.”

“Really?” Braghaman asked, opening the door wider and revealing the mace in his hand. He crossed his arms and...

 By @the-real-arcanist-val  I chose - A story about where your OC grew up

-----------------------------------------

Katyr was a Teen in Suramar when he first had a brush with death. Given his mother's illness he had to find food for them on his own, he started stealing. The one thing hardest for him to pinch? Arcwine.

This day he managed to fit an entire bottle under his shirt while the guards were beating some withered for entertainment. 

Everything was going well until he ran face first into a high-up official, she looked...old, older than most and she spoke cruelly "Where are you scurrying to rat? Did you find some cheese? Let's see how well you eat it with a melted face boy." The woman held Katyr down and slowly moved a fire...

The looks he was used to; being a lowborn but given the recent events of Teldrassil and his outspoken stance against it, his cousins looked at him like he was a roach that dared to crawl near their shoes.

Silvermoon was hot this morning and he already felt terrible, carrying several pounds of medical supplies back to his clinic, several people had "accidently" tripped him multiple times this day; causing him to dump half of the supplies on the ground and making him spend more time gathering them back up.

It came to a head when a rather zealous Sin'dorei named Korthenar recognized him from a night before when he tore a propaganda poster off his clinic door. "Look lads it's the yellow belly, too afraid of death to support your...

Pain.

Unending and undeniable agony.

Ripped limb from limb as the rain pours down around downtrodden soil.

The clash of metal and cries of war echoed around her, roaring in her ears.

Ice Crown. She hadn’t been here in dream not waking world in a while. The bitter cold winds of Northrend tugged at golden tresses as she swung her hammer at a foe, which toppled to the ground in a heap of disgruntled pain. It seemed familiar, the cries of the fallen still ringing in her ears. Her own shouted orders echoing through the expanse as her soldiers, no her family, fought valiantly.

This was different. All were alive. All had made it to the gates. Nathmir was barreling through an enemy as though he’d never been injured.

Something is...

Forsetti ran in circles around the Paladin, his low playful rumbling sounding from his chest. The paper bag in Olathia’s hand must clearly be filled with treats and things for him right? The jade eyed mute rolled that gaze at him with a motion of her hands to encourage him to calm down, her free hand signing that yes there were treats if he behaved. The big lug settled into following his companion, curious wuffs from his nose as he tried to sniff out the delicious prize within the package. Hige joined in garnering a mildly annoyed look from the great lion but his focus only wavered until the paper crinkled in Olathia’s hands. 

For Forsetti she retrieved a large, durable toy laced in the felines favorite scent and a bag of treats he...

You never realize how much the word “home” weighs on your mind until the place you have labeled such is gone. The burning of my “home” left me little more than scars and memories and a pair of pauldrons that may well be the last remaining “living” branches.

Their enchanted leaves change with the season but never die, the last of their autumnal colors withering away for a bareness indicative of the coming winter.

I find myself touching them often, wishing I was “home” and safe in its branches once more. A peace and calm I have yet to find again.

I cant help but peer down at the worn key in my hand, Ashraen’s insistence that I accept a place to sleep having won. For weeks I have spent my nights aiding others, prowling...

With a downward swing, Braghaman brought his made down on the skull of the skeleton that the paladin had been fighting. With a grunt, he pulled his mace from the bone and quickly scanned the area. At his feet were the remains of three other skeletons that had been fighting him. The paladin could hear the rattle of bones from other parts of Raven Hill cemetery, but nothing was nearby.

Bragh took a moment to catch his breath before moving past the broken fence around the cemetery. He didn’t have to go too far before he found the body. On the ground were the bloody remains of an adult. The victim’s clothing lay shredded on the ground around the body.

“Guess you got too close to the fence, didn’t you?” Braghaman whispered as he...

Wooden floorboards warped and creaked under her feet as she moved through the ruined building. It was as holy a space now as it had been when first built, though she was sure “holy” wasn’t the intention of it. There were no prayer nooks, no altars or shrines — but it was, all the same. Each of the now ruined planks that made up the floor had been laid and secured by someone with hopes and dreams of a better, safe life. Hearth stones had been stacked and a chimney made to keep the past occupants warm, dry, and fed. People had lived here, maybe loved here, and this place had become a memorial to the time they had put in to protect themselves from nature.

The people, however, had long been gone; whether through diaspora or violent...

Marachius sat at his desk, tapping his pencil to his bottom lip. He spent several moments in quiet thought as he tried to decide what he should include on his field report. Put the pencil back to paper, he wrote a few more lines on the paper and then stopped to re-read what he had put down. The paladin then put his pencil down with a nod of satisfaction.

Marc was just setting his pencil into a cup on the side of the desk when he heard the commotion outside. He turned to look at the open doorway when he heard the call.

“Incoming! Man the defenses!”

Almost immediately after the call, there was an explosion that Marc could feel vibrating through the floorboards. The paladin jumped out of his seat and grabbed his shield and mace. He...

The fire was working at keeping back the chill in the air. Outside, rain could be heard tapping against the windows and the rooftop. Looking through the glass, the two youngsters sigh dramatically at how uninviting the weather outside was. 

“I’m bored,” Banagan said, leaning his head against the glass. “Why can’t we go outside?”

“Because it’s too wet,” Korissa answered matter-of-factly. “We’d get all muddy if we did.”

“I don’t care,” Banny grumped. 

“What would you do if you could go outside?” Braghaman asked as he sat in front of the fireplace, reading through a stack of papers that had been delivered to him earlier in the day.

“I’d play,” Banny answered defiantly. 

“Doing...

The logs crackled in the hearth as the fire continued to burn itself out. Braghaman took a sip from his cup and then rested it back on the arm of the couch. Next to him, Niviene shifted a little bit as she slept against his arm. Bragh smiled and gently reached over to pull the blanket back over Niviene and then kissed her on the head. The priestess smiled in her sleep and then snuggled in again.

Braghaman returned the smile. Then he turned his head and glanced back towards the stairs. All was quiet in the house. The children long ago had fallen asleep.

The paladin turned back towards the fireplace and picked up his drink to take another sip. After he’d finished his bourbon, Bragh sat the cup back down. Looking back to the sleeping...

Hey Reiko, this is a World of Warcraft fan site, not really a Final Fantasy site. Our events and stories are all in the Warcraft setting.

    It was the Eve of Winter Veil, a time of gift-giving and reflection on all that the year past had brought, and what the next would bring. As quiet and strained as Rustberg had been of late, the turn-of-the-year cheer had proven infectious enough to overcome the lingering dread; roustabouts and sailors exchanged short toasts between tall tales in the Heart, while the village folk cut small trees for decoration and passed gifts from one to another at gatherings, parties of singing, red-cheeked souls moving from house to house in celebration, carrying lanterns and songs like especially boisterous fireflies. The transformation of the small Baradin community bordered on the storybook. Even the most truculent of Melisande’s wards had...

A few days before the twenty fifth, a number of packages were sent out to a number of friends of Saras and Bella along with all of the members of the Succulent Tarts and Howling Owl with the following items.  A small carved wooden piano made by Saras that played the carol of the bells when the lid was opened.  A tree made entirely out of gingerbread cookies, a couple choice bottles of liquor(receivers favorite) and a spa set made out of microfiber, colored in the receivers favorite color and like always, sewn into it was Bella’s signature starry design. Along with a short little note for everyone.

Our Dear Friends,

Saras and I would just like to wish you all a very merry holiday season.  We will be continuing to spend some time...

    “I’d really rather you stay here.” The concerned words of his friend and fellow draenei in the Modan Company rang in his ears for a few hours after she had left. The Company doctor had reiterated it. Then the boss lady had come back and shared roasted rabbit and a bit of lovely conversation with him.

    But now he was alone in the Southgate Outpost. And supposed to stay here.

    “Booooring!” he wailed up at the stone ceiling.

    The anchorite was sitting on the edge of the cot kept in the upstairs of the Outpost for medical needs…and did the Company ever have medical needs. Lately, it seemed it had been mostly him. He looked at the empty bottle of Captain Rumsey clutched in one platter-sized indigo...