secrets

“It is standing right behind you… Do not move… Do not breathe…”  Kyi’lin held the box despite her urge to drop the item and leave it to be forgotten, but that voice… she’d have heard that voice before. Curiosity caused her thumb to slide a latch and try to flip the closest side open. “All places, all things have souls… All souls can be devoured…” This time the shaman managed to move, but her arm moved, sliding the box into one of her bags. She touched her totems before running towards the path leading back to the Taunka village. Kyi shook her head, what was she even running from, the area was kept safe by the Taunka hunters, the voice lied, nothing could have been behind her. A large lump of fur, muscle and thick leather clothing caught her, stopping her sprint instantly. She reached for her skinning knife, but a large hand caught her and the deep rumble of a friendly voice followed.

In a way, it's never really hit how loose some people can be with their tongues until only recently. Secrets cried out in the streets in broad daylight, of hits placed on hated enemies and spurned lovers giving in to jealous rages and fits of murder for the sake of their misguided love.

Brazen fools, all of them.

It's far too easy to collect their secrets, to find what it is they hide and fear the most. I stand not five feet away, and so long as my gaze doesn't pass over them, it seems as though I don't even exist. Just another face in a sympathetic crowd...

Perfect.

You would think that a fortune teller would be able to change her own damn future.

I've been watching it coming closer for weeks in advance and the bones are rather blunt about what will happen.

The powers that be never lie and as it comes closer and closer, they revealed more of what will happen with every cast of the small ivory pieces …

Daevra shifted on her hooves before the mailbox. She tried very hard to keep her guilty feelings out of the Meddler's Link by focusing on the crowds gathered for lunch on the Blue Recluse's patio.

Her efforts to get more information from Ahmik had been fruitless. He knew something about the baker, but wouldn't tell Daevra no matter how she asked. If Sasha was hiding something, Daevra didn't know the right questions to ask her elders to find out what it was; they all had much more practice covering their tails than she did. Fine; let Sasha have her secrets, but she had no right to begrudge Daevra her own, then. Assuming she ever had any that didn't involve Sasha.

Hare snagged in the trap. Willing. Trembling.

Crave the heartbeat under me teeth. You bite first – spill the blood. She screams. No mercy in yer eyes.

We hunt as one. Rolling flanks an bared fangs, growlin’, feastin’. Helpless between us.

Full on fresh game, our hunger has only been awakened. We sate on each other.

((Part of an on going larger story between the two, starting with Again. ))

=Pic Below Break=

Your friend cares for you; she wants you to be with her.  She is a good friend to have, a useful friend.

So much time and effort you put into her, is she worth it?  What will she give back to you?

She will be a useful ally, her powers wedded to your own will make you stronger, and all who would stand against you will fall.

The young troll sat in his room in the Cleft of Shadows, nodding dully.  The faint smells of incense and smoke hung heavy in the air.  He wore a wrinkled robe, bright silver and purple patterns woven throughout the dark blue cloth.  One hand rested at his neck, gently holding a small purple crystal set into a silver clasp hanging from his neck.  He leaned back against the wall, shoulders slumped.

“No one keeps a secret so well as a child” - Victor Hugo

They said it wasn’t lying, the Peddler and the Actor.
I think they are right.  
Everyone has their secrets after all.

( This is a continuation on the "Rya's Treachery" storyline. I have not linked all the ones that belong in it together, sorry! ^_^ )

She had not meant it to take this long; delving into the private lives of your co-workers shouldn't be such a difficult task. No, it was her own fault, her own decisions, that had pushed her goal further from her mind. Buying a few hours to share a bed with a man whom she did not know anything about, testing out her newest gun on the Forsaken deciding to use Southshore as their play land ...

  The hallway should have just been that.. four walls, a ceiling and a floor.  Simple, easy… hallways should not spark memories, but if the do, one is lucky they if they are good ones.  I ventured deeper into the ruin of my estate, each step taking me towards those last two doors.  This visit had been an unexpected trip down memory lane, some good… but being a Stormcren, it became more apparent that our family bred insanity like some elven families breed red heads.  I was not immune, my brother was not… and as much as they would have denied it while alive, neither were my parents.

(A few years ago)

Syrahe could hear the raised voices in the other room from where she sat polishing her plate armor. Training was tomorrow, she felt excitement. Finally she could prove herself to her family. She was a natural, her instructor had said. She had an aptitude for battle plans, for strategy, and the Light had chosen her. She was blessed.

“Marissa, how could you? A blood elf, of all things? Disgusting,” bellowed her Father. She jerked her head up openly eavesdropping now. Her older sister Marissa had been brought home from the Mage Academy but she had not known why. The words baffled her.

  Returning home was like leaving the waking world, remembering a time that really was not so long ago, a few months maybe? When the world was still one piece and the flaming catalyst known as Deathwing still lay forgotten in his prisons.  The quakes had taken my family estate, the last remaining in the Stormcren line, the other estate….had been taken by fire, lit by a vengeful heart for a murdered brother.  Our mother and father burned along with it, only ashes in the wind, the same that proud home had been reduced to.  

     Daraman sat in his office and tried to will away the pain, the hurt.  He knew she didn't mean to hurt him with what she said, but the words stung regardless.  He had gone with Joyia to the ATS barge to grab a drink with a few of the crew, but found only Lilliana, alone and dejected, and refusing to talk about what had put her in such a bad mood.  Eventually, Joyia convinced Lilliana to tell Daraman what had happened, and the paladin told him how she had been captured earlier that day, and nearly murdered and raised as a death knight.  Daraman had told her that she was lucky to be alive, and she should take joy in the fact that she was still alive, meaning every word, but still reminded that he hadn't been as lucky as she had.  She had then gone on to talk how it was a fate worse than death to be raised as a slave and destroy everything that you once stood for, and while careless, the words struck the last dark spot of his so

She eyes the water covering the floor in the barge's bathroom, draining quickly - all the evidence swirling down the drain.

She strokes the surface of the water lightly, testing it - "Still warm, at least. It'll do."

She stood, head high, in her indigo robe - the rich gold embroidery standing in stark contrast around her waist, wrists, and breast - her ebony hair resting lightly on her shoulders. She had applied her make-up skillfully, disguising her weariness - she was radiant, her pale skin set against the dark tones of her hair, and robe shone like the full moon set against the night sky.

"Isn't it about time you at least considered marriage, dear?", her mother's voice jingled, like chimes in a salty Stormwind breeze. She, herself, was beautiful for her age - her now-silver hair pulled back tidily, yet hastily- a few strands had fought their way loose to frame her lined, worried face.

The girl eyed the ornate golden flowers and vines embroidered on her matching blue slippers, then lifted her head to look her mother in the eye, as she had been instructed long ago. "Of course, mother," she said, as earnestly as she could manage.

An azure finger ran down the length of her tail as she shot the deep red potion back. Raksasha ran her tongue across her sharp canines to try and remove the filmy after taste as she shot a look over her shoulder at the muscular Draenei male who still lay in bed. She growled low, “Ahmik...”

He chuckled and stopped before answering in Draenic, “Come now, Sasha. You're not still mad, are you? I'm sure your comrades, and your sister, are looking for you, it has been a few days.”

The lean, light blue skinned woman rolled her eyes and finished buckling up the rest of her plate armor, “Yes, I am still mad. Yes, they are probably looking for me. I am very good at not being found until I wish to be, you know this.”

Anchorite Avuun looked over his friend anxiously and gave Daevra a new list of components to gather. Avuun's whole mission was to discover a way to heal the Broken condition. It was a worthy one, Daevra believed, and she grieved with him over their deterioration.

The Krokul were the reason she slipped away to the Swamp of Sorrows whenever possible.

A moment of clarity as I sit by this river.

  Mother is a double word, one split into two just as I am split into many. I am split because my mothers are split, because my father is split and a part of both mothers.  Don’t understand? I doubt you do, and you will not unless you are within me, the others I am understand, even Mother and father do not understand, it is something so deep in the rivers of my veins that its surface will never coat my tongue.  

Somewhere off the shore of Eastern Kingdom lies a small cottage, previously belonging to Dellissa's ex husband and his family, a door slammed open.

Banging her way to the table the blue haired female glanced around the small cottage with a twisted scowl upon her otherwise pretty features and with a defiant gesture, she dropped her mace onto the table, the despised table of her ex husband's mother's. Satisfied by the sound of the creak of the wood as it bore the impact of the big two handed weapon, Dellissa peeled her gauntlets off before she went to close and lock the door.

A gentle breeze rolled into the small, two room flat; bringing in with it, the sweet smells of the pastry shop beneath it. Golden rays of sunshine, attempting to break through the thick clouds over the magi city, beamed elegantly against the eggshell walls within the sitting room; now turned into temporary bedroom for one presumed-dead rogue. While he appeared to sleep rather peacefully, it was another story for another, whose bed squeaked every other second or so from within the next room.

Tossing the blankets aside, Caitira sighed in defeat as she sat up, running her fingers through her sun-kissed tresses. This was the third night in a row in which she had seen little to no sleep. Something had to give.

Turning a tired eye to a large, framed picture at her bedside; Caitira smiled sadly at the image of a younger Kiyuri and herself.

The events of the past few days had lead to this.  I had reached my limit.  Torn through emotionally, beaten down physically…. What was left in the aftermath was the ruin of the gates to my home.  The spattering of battle and bodies along the smoldering ground of a once healthy garden.