Trust

   Winterspring, a valley nestled in the foothills of majestic Hyjal- frozen, by virtue of geography and the  whim of nature, in eternal winter. Here the snow- covered trees glisten under an ancient starlight and amidst living shadows, a haven for secrets, as well as some of Kalimdor's hardiest wildlife. It was an ideal setting in which to find my bird, as well as a few stolen moments with my dear Drifter.

"Dress warm."

One might be a close friend; now she questions my motives.

One might be closer still; now she fears guilt by association.

One might break me in half, by all appearances.

All of this from defending the careless gnome who might have been my mentor.

Kudrun would never turn down a meal. No matter how much food she found to put in her, it never felt like enough. It made sense when she was growing. For years it felt like she stretched a foot a day and needed to stuff her stomach twice over to keep up. But even when the growing slowed, that hunger never left her.

“Just like your father,” Uncle had said.  “Skinny as a pole, hungry as a bear.”

So when the voice on the dented box wanted to make amends for calling her a boy, she wasn't going to argue. A meal's a meal, and he sounded nice enough.

I don't know who I am, but everyone else feels they do.

Naïve.

 A mewling kitten...cute and dainty, with sharp little claws.

A dog – one of those northern, snowbound breeds that are half-wolf.

A horse. Devoted, beautiful, strong and useful.

A bear cub, not fully grown – just learning the taste of blood.

Mine.

~

 "Is there anyone else I can trust?"  I can hear the echo of Jericho's words from that night, still. So much had happened, and so fast.

She’d come a long way from the quiet forest creature looking for a new pack.

Phadrene mounted up, the hooves of her snowy white talbuk clomping in rythmic time as she ambled away from the fountain, with him standing next to it, in the Exchange.

Holding the reins in one hand, she gently thumbed the marble in her other hand.  It was heavy and smooth, swirling with a mesmerizing vortex of energy.

The rich azure color seemed to suit the cool temperature which emanated from it, though it was not uncomfortable to the touch.  Absently, she wondered if that was because he considered Frost his strongest magical affinity.

She reined in her mount, pausing as she bit her lip, remembering his words to her.

This contains my essence, highly concentrated.

She gazed at the marble, smiling shyly.  Such a secretive and strong personality he had...summarized in this tiny thing. 

Concentrated, indeed.

Phadrene looked up from her reading, rubbing her eyes and reaching for her tea.  The afternoon was quickly winding down toward evening.  Spring was in the air indeed, as evidenced by the chorus of birdsong filtering in through the windows of her Silvermoon apartment.  The veils swayed gently in the fragrant breeze, and the Bishop’s attention was hooked by their sinuous movements as her attention drifted.  Everything seemed sharper, louder, more colorful today…

Tomes lay scattered across her desk and white leather ottoman: The History of the Demon Hunters, Comparative Religions of Azeroth, Myths and Symbolism of the Tribal Peoples, Philosophical Exploration of Healing Mechanisms, and, the most recent, Basic Theory of the Arcane.  She scanned the collection and rubbed her temples.  A slight headache had plagued her all day, since...

Invite me in, Nay...

Keep them all just beyond grasp

Safer you shall be

Safer still, Shall he

Too close, he’d see unveiling

Faults and flaws o’mine

Secrets safeguarded

A letter won't do.

tor·ment (tôrmnt)

((I felt it appropriate to give a little glimpse as to what's going on with Keth after the blowout between her and Weez.  Consider this to be a response to Weez's post here.))

The bloodthistle didn’t have the same calming effect it usually had after a rough day.  It wasn’t a habit she dipped into often; it aggravated her to have even the slightest connection to the sin’dorei.  Still, she took a long drag of the joint and made herself comfortable atop one of the roofs in Orgrimmar.

She couldn’t go back to the Harbor, not tonight.  She needed to relax, clear her head.

I did the right thing.

"Should've known better than to even try to get along with someone named Fox," I muttered, speaking my thoughts out loud. The muggyness of the day was being dragged away by the cool, dry night breeze as it rolled in off the water. I welcomed the small amount of relief from such a long day. The crisp smell of the salt water was truly a welcome change of pace from the stagnant and musty smell of the librabries and tomes I'd nearly drowned in at the academy.

I dragged a hand across my face, rubbing my tired eyes. The hammock I perched in swung lazily with the gentle rocking of the barge. I was tired, I knew I was tired but I couldn't sleep. My mind raced ceaselessly. With a grunt of annoyance I hopped out of my hammock and got into my footlooker. I grabbed another apple from my stash and closed the footlocker's lid with a loud thud.  I pushed myself up on top of it, leaning back against the wall. After I inspected the apple for worm holes I took a bite. The crunch of the fruit was the only sound to be heard in the bunk room. It was quiet. It should've been a relief, but it wasn't. The whole day there had been plenty of noise while she was around.

     Daraman trudged up to his apartment in Durotar, the pack on his back nearly full to bursting as he swung the door open.  Inside, Pyro's twin heads yapped happily at his master's return, the core hound standing on it's hind legs and hopping about in excitement.  Daraman smiled at the tiny creature and tossed a bone at it's feet, watching the left and right heads fight for the new treat.  He figured that would keep it busy long enough for him to unpack and set up his purchases from the day.  The first thing he pulled out were several painted animal hides, including the banner of Thunder Bluff he had championed in the Argent Tournament shortly before the fall of the Lich King.  He had also championed the cause for Orgrimmar and Undercity as well, and he would one day find the banner for Orgrimmar to hang next to Thunder Bluff, but he doubted he would ever hang anything from the Undercity in his home for quite some time.  The F

The world has become so angry, seething in its bowels and wracking its skin with cracks.. oh how horrible it will be.  The angered ground carved out a place in my mother’s home, poor poor demon ridden mother, how she is broken, breaking.. much like the earth.  I will save her from herself, which is why we must be quiet as to where we are, Gelis will not be happy as I am far from him, as mother and the cold priest are far from me. 

 The basement of The Slaughtered Lamb looked cold.  It reminded her of the tomb she first woke up in years ago in Deathknell.  Fitting, she thought, considering she'll be leaving this undeath behind and waking again into a new life, light willing.

Elrin Kast was standing near the pit that held the demon summoning circle young warlocks used to practice their lessons.  He was taller than she thought he'd be.  "Kast, I assume?"

Elrin nodded.  "DeSerrat?"

Harrigan entered the Gardens and saw Alynore sitting on a bench. "Evening, Corporal."

"Evening sir." Alynore stood at attention to salute, tapping the brim of her hat. She made a face and took it off, smoothing back her hair.

Harrigan chuckled as he returned the salute. "At ease, Alynore. I'm not on duty."

"Yessir. Been to Brewfest for the holiday shenanigans yet, Commander?"

Some decisions are born of great ideas, some are born of desperation…and some..like the one I made…are based on desperation and just the right timing.

Give me your Trust, said the Priest.

Gwrtheyrn couldn't seem to get comfortable in the pew, small splinters digging into his back however he turned.  He stared at the stark walls around him, trying to avoid looking at the elf in front of him.  "It wasn't your fault, Gwrtheyrn.  There isn't anything you could have done to save them."

  I flung the door open with every intent to let Drakys know I wasn’t welcoming this. Not only had I just gotten out of a room where everything went to hell, I couldn’t even hurt anyone in the process… keeping my temper in check means I either need time or the next poor soul I would run into would feel the brunt of it. Drakys apparently volunteer himself. He sat at his desk in a office below freezing and watched me rage at him, breath coming out in white puffs of air while fel rolled off me so thick it was heat against the frigid atmosphere. I spat at him about the situation and about his vile death knight lord who was in huge need of a female blood elf handing him his ass.

 cicatrix manet

 "You asked me here pretty, what can I do for you?"

He wanted to protest. It had been a hard and painful night, how could he leave Asilia to find her way past every soldier the death knight had to throw at them on foot. Another thought let him clam his mouth shut and nod. He had no fallen for Asilia because she was a damsel in distress. She would be as likely as he to make it home alive. More if his injuries and her natural abilities were taken into account. He gave her a kiss and leapt onto his gryphon. He needed to get Jasria help now. Asilia was strong. He would see her soon enough.

He felt the horror of impending doom well up in him as Bennet described the state Delphiee was in. He would find a way, or someone else would. As always, when there was life there was hope.

We ran in the green. Splashed through marshlands. Hunted together.

There need be nothing more.

The early evening's a quiet time in Nighthaven, the Kaldorei are just waking up for the most part and the other folks, Tauren and Human mostly, are settling in for the evening. The sun's just about slipped away and Elune is up, just clearing the trees and about a quarter past full.  I send a little prayer up to Her, just a few thoughts for Yuta and the babies and some for Kharris and her baby.  That last bit'd probably scandalize a few folks, but if I've learned anything about gods it's that they don't fit into the little boxes we like to put them in.

I turn in the doorway to the terrace and watch the room; it's Kaldorei style, no proper walls, just screens and hanging and such.  The moonlight coming in picks out little details in the room: the shimmer of Yuta's hair, a carved bird on Isabelle's crib, the shadowy figures on a hanging I brought back from Ironforge, my goddess' little idol sitting on its shelf in a corner.