Memories

Lorith just didn't get it.

For the fourth week in a row, her meat and cheese platter rested before her nearly untouched.  Sure, a draenei had ordered a slice of kimchi pie earlier.  But no one had come in looking for a tender slice of roast raptor, a juicy bear steak, or a carefully-sliced selection of cheeses. The breads were growing stale with every passing moment. She didn't even want to get the donuts out of their protective wrappings if they were just going to sit unasked-for on her dessert plate.

With a sigh, Lorith shifted her weight to her other foot, balancing on her footstool with her elbows on the bar. She stared out at the empty tables, picturing the many customers who had all come in to enjoy food and drink and company for over a year. Some still came in, usually for a quick bite before leaving again.  But otherwise business had slowed to a crawl. It wasn't helping Colin, and it wasn't very satisfying for her.

((Continued from "Corrupted - Predator"))

Elros had not been pleased by what she intended to do to this poor young girl.  This had not come as a surprise to her though seeing how his honorable nature was part of what drew her to love him to begin with.  When the choice was placed before him, he had reacted in favor of the child’s defense and now Dark Ranger Ari stood between her beloved, now restrained by Naga Sharkspear, and her opposing Naga mentor, the Enchantress who held the girl-child in her grasp.

((Takes place after Elaeryn's "The Nightmare Continues" & my "Corrupted - Lamb"))

 “You resist. You cling to your life as if it actually matters. You will learn.”

The muffled hissing of voices greets the young girl as she slowly regains consciousness, but her body does not respond to her will to move.  She feels something strong and scaly coiling around her, tensing to restrain her arms, legs and waist.  As the voices and shadows sharpen, the sting of a cold, bony hand strikes her cheek and then grasps her by the jaw to raise her head.  She looks into glowing crimson eyes, void of life, from a familiar face staring back into hers with a cool, calculated gaze.

With a final tug on the silken ties laced criss-crossing down my back, I looped the ends around one another to form some semblance of a bow. It had been some time since I'd worn something quite so restrictive, and as I peeked through the scarlet veil of my hair, over my shoulder at my work reflected in the mirror behind me, I was surprised with how well I'd managed it.

The light that came through the thick, bubbly-glass window panes was a purplish hue, though the light was coming in at the wrong angle for a violet dawn or dusk. Too weak to sit up, the Magistrix cursed, quietly, to herself before trying to wriggle and shimmy herself into a sitting position.

A few seconds later, panting and shaking, she gave up. Whatever she had done to herself, she had left herself weakened and broken. If only she remembered...

The man whom she loved--she knew she loved him, she felt the feelings inside her, though no memories or names attached themselves to him--came in when he heard her trying to move around.

  Lorieni atood on the preapice which had been split leaving a torrent of water in the middle of the jungles known as Stranglethorn Vale, her tears adding to the torrent of water below her. Her overwhelming guilt and pain deeply embedded in each salty drop. Her eyes move to her hand, the one holding the dagger the gnome had given her. That souvenier alone sears her mind and breaks her heart.  She brings the knife slowly up to her chest placing the at jut the right notch in her ribs for the blade to reach her heart as she stares into the whirlpool below her, her own tears only adding to it's frothing water. As she stands there motionles, save for the tears still flowing freeely down her cheek, So many memories flash through her minds eye, leaving her blind to all else around her.

It's been said, that when you dance with someone you allow your heart to fall in love; if only for the length of the song. The steps are slow, the movement awkward- but for the briefest minute you are the only two in the world. The murmured counting brought my thoughts back to the steps, allowing my body to move with the beat.

“One, two-”

I'm not a dancer, nay- we aren't dancers. Ava had danced a few times at the club- mostly on the sidelines. She'd find a string of music and run with it, swaying her arms- imitating the other women on the stage. She'd always danced well opposite of Adalynn, mostly because Ada was willing to smile and support Ava's awkward sways. Those were the moments that I rested, when Ava would dance.

Laying apon the battlefield, Kolthan finally closes his eyes "..life ends..." he murmurs softly, a slight smile on his face. His hand closed over the broken off weapon buried in his chest, as if wishing to remove it, allowing the pressure against his heart kill him quicker. His heart was beating...slowly. The battle was lost, but he fought to the bitter end, watching his unit fall about him. His tenacity allowed him not to stop, not even the Legion could of held back the tide of his desire to defend his people, and his unit of humans, elves and a few Orcs that wandered into his presence. He takes a shuddering breath, opening his eyes to see an odd person hovering in front of him. He looked youngish, pale skin, a devious and almost engaging smile split his lips "...well well well..a Live one!

I never really gave him much thought.

Why should I? It was Ma and me making our way through the broken world. We researched in Kirin’Var, did arcane work for the grunts in Honor Hold, and studied with the High Elves in Allerian. The two redheaded Forrester girls could do anything together and there just wasn’t room for anyone else, not for very long.

For the first time in my life, I find myself wondering.

Togy awoke slowly stretching his unusually sore body, it felt like every single muscle was used to their breaking point. His mind swirled wildly.

'What happened yesterday?' Flows into his mind as he mumbled low to himself,

His mind still in the dazed of sleep euphoria at this point he was unclear of the area still, the sheets they felt different. Softer than the ones from the inn that he had been staying at. His eyes opened slowly after a few blinks to clear his vision fully. Finding that he was in fact not at the inn anymore but it appears to be a room of a woman, the room had a Starwood vanity with a small stool; a lovely mirror behind the polished wooden make-up dresser framed in silver that he could see.

 The sterile scent of quarantine gradually gave way to the richer, spicier aroma of hot food being prepared as harried volunteers busily worked on our next meal, their efforts coordinated through thick linen masks in a flurry of hushed voices. 

 Down the hallway I followed, past the ornately carved bannister and decorative drapings of silk and taffeta, enduring fixtures of the building's previous life as a tavern. The trappings of its new incarnation greatly overshadowed these vivid remnants of the past, as the rustle of sweat-dampened sheets, fevered nightmare nonsense and the anguished moans of the sick and the dying echoed through the elegant hallway.

Mature for language, violence and death. Continued from: The Suffering. 

A heaving, sputtering choke woke him suddenly and Cassion immediately wished that it didn't. His lungs seared, each breath bringing an agonizing and wet wheeze. As consciousness returned and he finished spitting -- in his blurred vision he couldn't make out whether the spittle contained blood or the blood contained spittle, but couldn't find himself bothered to care -- the buzz of agitated voices crept back into his ears. They were growing familiar.

“Why are you crying, Mamma?”

My mother looked down at me and wiped a single, vagrant tear from her cheek. “I’m not crying John, just remembering.”

Kast decided to take a break. He didn’t look at me as he walked out of the room, and I didn’t look at him. He can be an ugly man sometimes. This business was some of the ugliest, and sure wouldn’t do much to improve his looks.
 
I snapped my fingers at my side, answered by the huff and scuff of Gus rising from where he had been lying against the wall. The basement was dark enough the hyena’s hoary coat barely muddied the shadows, but his eyes gleamed in what light there was. Funny how I treated him like a dog. In many ways, he wasn’t like a dog at all. All the better for this. People get used to dogs.

Continued from this Drifter's tale.

~~~~

The boy had proven to be an engaged and ardent spectator, and as the sun set over Sunstrider Isle, the Ranger-Lord Elaeryn Stardrifter concluded his marksmanship demonstration and settled in for a shared supper over a campfire.

~~~~

As I coaxed the fire into being, the flames willingly blossoming under my hands, he piped up again with his questions.  “I want to know more about how you came to be able to handle animals.”

I regarded him thoughtfully.  “You’re quite fond of beasts, aren’t you.”

He swallowed nervously, but held my gaze.  “Well, I’d be lying if I said that the animals weren’t what tipped my interest more from the Knights to the Farstriders.  And, well, you told me never to lie.”

The night was dark and sound

several hours before the dawn

Lanterns gave life, all soft and round

Suramar bustled with life, 

basking in the grace of Elune

As demon lords sent out their pawns

Moon's children sang their cheerful song

As dark night shielded their incoming plight

They basked unaware of the wrong

In the glory of Elune's light

My fingers run over the velvety petals of the flower.   After counting six I gently grip the stem and pull the flower to my face, smelling the perfume and realizing that it was the peacebloom, not the herb I was wanted.  My hand glides over smooth wood a little more to the right of the shelf.  Slowly my fingers inch to the back of the shelf before encountering the bundle of dried plants tied with string.  The leaves rustle as I lift the herbs off the shelf and pull them closer.  After an inquisitive sniff, I realize that it's not the plant I wanted.

"He must have moved them when he tried to help me . . ."

A morning spent clearing foul demon spawn from the ill-kept and ill-patrolled Cell Block D in Tol Barad had gotten me close to the point of raging, the bolts flying from my crossbow faster than lightening as I sought to rid the world of their taint. 

My work on the Peninsula finished for the day, it was time to check on the Farstriders stationed in Falconwing before I took a bit of needed time off.

((Following Flirting with Death))

Alynore returned to her quarters after a very long first day as a lieutenant. There was a lot of administrative work to do, making sure everything ran smoothly and everyone did their new job; too many promotions in a short a time could do that, but the Commander trusted they could do it together.

“Hope the others don't mind; I'm younger than many in the unit.”

  The Undercity always held important memories to me. It was in those dank hallways, all those years ago I meet Blackmarrow for the first time and offered him the contract to end a man’s life.  Three days ago I stood in almost that exact same hallway and took an entirely different contract, this one was to save the life of someone else.

“You must be the well mentioned Ixinane.”
“Lady Stormcren.”

The estate I had claimed as my own was silent. Small skittering sounds of feet moving across the stone floors, the breeze wrapping and dancing between the tattered curtains, there was a damp chill to the forgotten home. I had been here for two weeks now, and this place felt far from my own. An abandoned noble's estate was hardly the place I thought the world would place me.



Already, I seem to be forgetting… Everything I could observe first-hand, everything I could study in detail. Eyeing purposefully or frivolously, it didn’t matter back then… And here I am, forgetting. Do I regret my decision? Sometimes, maybe… But this was not one of those times. I just don’t want to forget, because if I do then everything from that part of my life fades to Oblivion. All I have left is a means of navigation and identification, even the colors that flair against the dull, murky background don’t seem to be anything more than pigmentation that allows me to know.

Sighing lightly, the large male reaches up and runs a finger slowly across the smoothed, plain, leather blindfold. It was beginning to warm in the intense heat.  Ra’dreyan frowns and shakes his head, thinking back to the days before.

A warm afternoon -

the press of plate against plate...

Pre-dawn. Only the sounds of the waves crashing on the sands and the soft, rhythmic breathing of one in deep sleep to break the silence.

Quiet, still, calm. Perhaps one of the best times of the day to reflect and think without interruption, and that is precisely what Aurelie found herself doing as she sat at the edge of the shore, turning one hand this way and that to catch the light of the dying fire upon its newest and most unexpected adornment.

"Again." An order.

Another bead of perspiration slid down his sunburnt forehead and dripped off at his nose tip. Choking on air, the boy went into a fit of coughs and fell to his knees, broadsword clanging on the cobblestones of the courtyard.

"I said ... do it again." The order with force.

The sun was in the West, setting over the sea in a blaze of colors. Bells sounded in the distances, signaling the evenings coming with an ominous tone.

"What's the matter? Gonna give up and cry?"

Larosa laid a purple hand gently upon the smooth wood of the door.   The other hand reached for the handle as the Kaldorei stood in the doorway for the last time.  The morning bells began tolling and as the seventh reverberating note died in the air, Larosa glanced around the room.  The bed was regulation made, the walls bare of maps and hangings, and the desk and wardrobe were clean and empty, waiting for another to settle themselves into the room.  Only the faint smell of tea, silverleaf, and jasmine in the air and the faint scrotch marks to the desk were a clue that the Elf had ever stayed in the room.  Sadness rose in her gut as the blue haired Elf turned to shut the door firmly, remembering the good and the bad that had happened within those four stone walls. 

Larosa didn't realize just how much this room had become her home, until she had to move once again.  She lingered on the memories of early evening meetings with Del as they went over squads and training, drinking beers and joking.  How she would read when the sun rose and she couldn't sleep, how she had smiled proudly when she first was assigned this room, and how it felt to put her uniforms in the wardrobe for the first time.  Even the bitter memories of writting all those condolence letters and disarming the bomb at the desk with Reggie floated to the front of her mind.  She remembered that first night she had spent in the Hall and it still seemed like only yesterday to the Elf.  Two duffle bags in her hands, her bow on one shoulder, her swords on her belt, and Pittch at her side, making her way through the crush of other Dragoons and recruits to her first bunk a floor below that was just large enough for her and her saber.

The shift from the balmy Thunder Bluff night to the absolute chill of Icecrown pierced easily through thin cloth, leaving the blonde girl shivering in an instant. Bare feet recoiled from the frozen floor, hopping from one to the other in mute pain at the unfortunate forgetting of proper, or even basic, footwear. But still, the physical discomfort barely outweighed the emotional pain of the sheer silence and emptiness that pervaded the halls once ringing with laughter.

Of her songs, his jokes. Stories shared and plans made, picked at over and over again until perfect even if they were simple kitchen or training-room raids to be carried out but five minutes later. All of it...no more than a memory.

My study of relics brings me to that great old wall.

As I sift the dust and fragments, I find my own crest, fallen from armor I once wore.

I take a news clipping out of my pocket, staring at it, and the crest.

I came looking for history.

This place holds my history too.