Sonialar

"To me love is more than sex, it's about companionship."

The trail was cold.

Oh, who was I kidding? We didn't even have a trail to go on, much less to say it was cold, hot, or anything of the sort. It's been a few days now that we've been searching for the Emberglow girl, working our way up from the southernmost parts of Quel'thalas. May as well get the unpleasantness of the Ghostlands out of the way, though we were only two people. Where Luck went, I don't know; I just know he's mad at me again. Or no...disappointed, I think, was the exact word. Hell if I know why, though.

((There is a reference to a song in this story, and an active link in the footnote.  To fully enjoy it, I hope you'll use it and run it in the background.))

When Zaraek awakened alone, he sat up quickly, his stomach twisted with foreboding. He hadn't said a word to Avriella about the others in the heartlink.

The night had been a wonder of newly awakened joy to her and he had hesitated to break the moment with knowledge that might push her to revert to her distrust. He had planned to talk with her in the morning, but now she was gone.

Sonialar found him after her duties were done, at the place where he so loved to meditate, the waterfall.

Zaraek got to his feet to greet her with a friendly hug and then sat by the water again and invited her to sit beside him. She had changed out of her paladin's gear and wore a casual sundress with a white bodice and peach toned length, but she didn't hesitate to fuss over grass stains. She settled down on the grass at his side and turned to look at him.

He smiled at her and she returned his gaze with a little less shyness than she had just days before.

Leaning forward, he said, “I have a proposition for you, Sonialar.”

Her contact was late.  After making her take off work to come out here, the least that jerk could do was be on time.  He was supposed to explain the concept of fire resistant armor.  Sonia sighed as she watched another race start, and licked at her third ice cream cone.   She was mildly bored…ok she was very bored, but she was determined to stick it out.  She pulled out her pocket watch and checked the time, frowning in minor annoyance.  “He said seven…damned goblins.”  The girl looked around again, wondering where that other man had gone to.  Probably home, with that woman.  Lucky…

((This blog entry is for mature eyes only. It’s longer than my usual. I think I can be forgiven… it’s not the kind of thing you rush through. This is explicit, honest, revealing and even I hope, on some level, enlightening.

Month of Love, 18th day

Jakobus :: Although he is friendly and a rather beautiful man, he is still very dangerous in all of his strangeness, even after my trust has been given to him in full. His intent is never fully realized until the extent of his experiments come to a close, or some time thereafter. He has a good heart, but a sketchy way of doing things, and it shows too easily when he's not careful to hide it. A good heart because he'll chase after the things that are important to him, no matter their uselessness beyond his need for them. People of emotional importance (See: Aedran) are a project to him to keep after, but must be observed in person. He hurriedly chased after me as I broke into a dramatic outburst, begging me to continue our friendship. I was irrationally distraught and he simply didn't care about being right. He merely wanted me to be alright, after all was let go of. - something to keep in mind -

((This post may be NSFW due to the mention of some parts of the female anatomy. Additionally, fair warning that this post may cause mild offense in some. Read at your own discretion.))

Dearest brother,

Silvermoon turned out to be something far more interesting that I had originally anticipated. What started out to be just another excuse for the girls to go shopping turned into a most exciting insider's look at the workings of the city. Most of which I can be thankful for because of a most peculiar man named Jakobus Nachtengaal. He's a scholar and a charmer and an utter amusement all on his own. I know you don't like hearing about it, brother darling, but his arms practically gravitate toward anything pretty, especially if it just so happens to have a pair of breasts.

His tour was a wild gryphon ride of tests and teasing challenges. Like how he tried to see if I had told him my real name, which I had, or even snatching up a copy of a library card admission just to see the details. Don't worry. I put the Academy's address on the form. I wouldn't dare lead any strange men to your door.

He could not have imagined being any happier, no matter what was going on around him. It was beyond happiness.  Happiness rose and fell with the tide of time, slipped away in circumstances.  This was pure joy.

One sunrise he sat in his favorite meditation spot in Eversong Woods, immersed in the sound of the nearby waterfall, and looked again at the secret letters from Avriella, the leader of the Felsworn. Drawing in the scent of her, he made a silent promise.  We will meet again… It is the will of the Light… You are not forgotten, you are not forsaken. You will know this peace, Mistress Avriella…

“Hun, being proper all the time is just…weird.”

Thought I'd whip up some quick signage for Fancy Cakes -- Aestan's idea, really. Not my best work, but it does it's job. ;)

A young blood elven girl sits on the balcony of a townhouse in downtown Silvermoon. Her short red hair is pulled back in a tiny pigtail, barely longer than the width of the band holding it back. Her long, short-sleeved shirt flaps a little over her loose pants as she leans over the railing to wave at another woman on the street.

The woman waves back. She looks a few years older than the other girl by human reckoning, with a similar face and identical hair color. She has a fairer complexion than the girl, however, and her hair is tied up in a loose bun. After the wave, she walks away in the direction of the less popular districts.

The girl on the balcony sighs and sits down in a chair with a young tiger lounging under it. She pulls out a small book and starts to write in it with a pencil.

Pale green was the dust that shot out from the cracks in the crystal. The hulking stone trembled above them, torn between favoring Light and Shadow. Ahman'dil stood fearlessly at the edge of the hovering platform, with the usual red and gold sin'dorei style almost slipping out from under his boots. Ilpalazzo hectically tried to balance out the Light Ahman was summoning into the crystal, knowing the spell wouldn't work without the perfect equilibrium.

"You fool! Have you any idea what you're doing!?" The rotten Forsaken cried out. Sickly purple tendrils of smoke snaked through the air from his form, toward the crystal.