The world that forgot

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Morrigan
Posts: 11
Joined: Thu Nov 20, 2014 2:25 pm

The world that forgot

#1 Post by Morrigan » Wed Jun 20, 2018 8:33 pm

Morrigan remembered dying.

It wasn't a traumatic memory. She remembered feeling warm, safe, loved, held in Sinthya's gentle embrace, wrapped in the scent of her perfume as pain faded from her broken body and anguish left her tortured mind. It was everything she'd ever wanted.

She could finally let go, and it was sweet, sweet relief.

She left the world feeling happy.



And so, when Morrigan was forcibly dragged from her place of peace, she was furious.

More than that, though, she was terrified. It was like being thrown in ice water, bright light burning her eyes and sounds and smells assaulting her oversensitive senses. Suddenly, she was acutely aware of her body, of clawed hands against a cold floor, of the pain of a thousand old injuries returning with vengeance. She wanted to go back to the dark.

She curled in on herself in the corner, covering her head with her arms. She heard familiar voices around her - but they were not comforting, friendly voices. They were voices that made her instinct scream at her to fight or flee - but her bones felt brittle and her muscles weak. How pathetic she was, naked and feeble at the mercy of old enemies she thought she was rid of long ago. Desperate, she anchored herself to the familiar, masculine scent next to her. She held Nomine's hand as the world came into focus.

She wanted to go back to the dark.
---------------------------
Nomine's hand was on his dagger the whole time, and Morrigan knew he was debating on whether a mercy-kill would be the kindest thing to do. She didn't give him her opinion. It didn't matter, anyway.

The broth and care was familiar, but the house was not. His fingers around her throat sent her breifly into blackness when she gave him too much attitude. Interesting. Nomine had grown less patient with age, not more so.

Morrigan grinned at him, sharp, clever words meant to rouse his sadistic side. She didn't care - this world had forgotten her long ago, she had absolutely no business being here. But an active kill is different from simply letting someone fade.

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

The lighthouse was strange, too. Morrigan felt out of place, where she stood next to Nomine, all silent and tame like a housecat. Pathetic. Pitiful.

She recognised the Sandwich-gnome, who cheerfully offered her foo, and Morrigan felt a pang of unfamiliar emotion in her chest. She didn't tell the Gnome that she hadn't been able to keep any food down as she rejected the sandwich, but Nomine did. Devvy simply beamed and offered to bring food some other time. The acceptance was foreign.

Morrigan saw another familiar face by the seashore. The one with the pudgy, slackjawed face, the one who looked unremarkable enough to be a fantastic Rogue. Chit.

Morrigan stared at her. Chit pointedly ignored her, and Morrigan wondered if Nomine knew how much Chit loved him, and if he noticed how painful it was for her to see Morrigan there.

Or perhaps Morrigan was simply misreading the situation. The world had changed, after all.

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

Thanagor had not changed. His warm breath puffed against her cold hands as Morrigan greeted him, leaning her forehead against his. His eyes blazed with cold green fire, yet somehow looked so warm.
He was familiar, an anchor in a world that had forgotten her.

Morrigan
Posts: 11
Joined: Thu Nov 20, 2014 2:25 pm

Re: The world that forgot

#2 Post by Morrigan » Fri Jul 20, 2018 2:31 pm

Nomine's repressed fury won't fade on it's own, so Morrigan provokes him until he snaps. He hurts her badly this time, but she doesn't mind. The physical pain feels distant and unimportant, sounds and sights muffled by a water-like blanket. She feels mostly nothing.

They both know what's causing it. Morrigan is not truly alive - she is a spectre summoned from the void, living on borrowed time. A part of her, the one that fuels her rage and passion, is still locked away in that dark place. Morrigan can see the concern in Nomine's face, but she fails to muster the energy to care. Things are as they are.

-----

She shows up when and where she is asked to. Following orders is easy, although the members of Starlight always phrase their orders as polite requests. Some of them are wary around her, but many, especially those who she has never met before, treat her with an unfamiliar, strange kindness. The black and white, furbolg-like creature keeps trying to feed her, and at one point they even trust her with a part of the mission.

Trust.

In the time before, she would have betrayed them all in a heartbeat. Now, she holds onto the item she has been asked to look after, and destroys it on command. Morrigan is good at destroying things on command.

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

Morrigan doesn't understand the mission much, (something about time travel and possible future outcomes, and dark crystal shards) but it doesn't matter. All she needs to do is follow orders and kill what she's told to kill. Most of the time she stands awkwardly in the background - the members of Starlight are peaceful people. Morrigan's skills are not needed.

Even then, her heart threatens to beat itself out of her ribcage when the older, future version of Chit wraps her into a warm embrace and calls her a friend. She feels something then, something heavy and dark in the pit of her stomach, something burning behind her eyelids and tightening around her throat like a hand. For a moment she thinks she's going to break.

Trust.

Older Chit gives her an assignment. Morrigan obeys. When the dark creatures emerge from the odd gnomish machine, Morrigan fights along with the others.

Dark tendrils catch her in their crushing hold, and Chit, Devvy, and the black and white furbolg all call her name and rush to her aid.

They call her name, with fear in their voices. Reaching out, as though she mattered.

Later, when she is alone once more, Morrigan weeps.

Morrigan
Posts: 11
Joined: Thu Nov 20, 2014 2:25 pm

Re: The world that forgot

#3 Post by Morrigan » Thu Aug 30, 2018 1:41 pm

There is something wrong and sickening about leading Starlight to one of the Brotherhood's sacred spots, and Morrigan feels the disapproval of her betters crawling on her back.

It smells like dust and fire and sulfur, and soon it will mingle with the scent of blood.

Morrigan is so weak that even speaking is too much of an effort. She stands, somehow, on the sidelines while the others prepare for the blood ritual meant to bring her back to herself. There's a vague amusement in the back of her mind when she thinks about Nomine performing blood magic. Lady Bloodthorn would be proud.

Morrigan loses some time. The others don't realise it, but by the time she's lying down on the altar, she's already dying. The stone altar is cool against her feverish back, and the edges of her vision have darkened. She sees only the black sky, and feels someone's hand on her foot. It's Chit.

Why are you bothering?

She knows the words that echo through the dusty air. She's heard them before, and usually she'd be joining in on the sidelines, not lying prone on the altar like a sacrificial lamb about to be tortured to death. No, she reminds herself - she is not there to be hurt. She's there to be helped.

But it does hurt.

Someone is screaming in agony in her head. Muscles spasm and seize, and her spine arches so violently she's afraid it might snap.

The Void whispers gently to her.

Come home, darling child. It's enough now.
You've had enough.
Come home and we'll wrap you in our soothing embrace.


She wants to. Fel, she wants to so badly.
But instead she shakes her head, gaze lowered.

No?
Very well.


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

It hurts.

Gone is the silent numbness of having only half a soul.
Gone is the comfortable apathy.

Morrigan feels everything.

She feels how hungry her starving body is, how badly her new wounds ache and sting.
She feels how afraid she is, how absolutely and gut-wrenchingly terrified she is.
She feels how angry she is, how much she hates Nomine for taking everything away from her.
And she feels the Grief, the Grief the Grief the Grief

Her first instinct is to kill, but a promise made nags somewhere in the back of her head.

So she flees.

How oddly strong her legs are, when she launches herself past the bewildered group of people and flees into the darkness. How fast she is, all sinew and muscle. How cold the desert is at night, and how the wind throws sand into her eyes.

Morrigan runs until the sand beneath her feet becomes flat stone. She missteps once and tumbles into the dust like a ragdoll with cut strings.
She crawls back onto all fours, turns her face up towards the sky and HOWLS

Like a wounded animal, she screams at the moon, tears - real tears, not the black sludge - stream down her cheeks. Wails out her loss, the loss of everything she loved and everything that gave her purpose. Roars out her rage at those who took it from her.

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

Thanagor's fur is almost blue-ish against the jet-black sky. His hooves patter with surprising softness against the rock, and his violet eyes are calm and gentle as he stretches his neck, poking a soft muzzle into Morrigan's hair. Huffs a puff of air into it.

Thanagor was a horse, once, much like Morrigan once was a human. Though the power of the Void has given Thanagor the strength, endurance and intelligence that most equines lack, it has also made him the loneliest beast on Azeroth. Though he still craves the safety and companionship of a herd, Thanagor now smells like a predator. Horses, being prey-animals, flee from him as they would from a nightsaber.

"I took that from you, didn't I," Morrigan whispers.

Thanagor chews on her hair, unbothered by her quivering. He is a dark, hot wall behind her, immovable and unafraid.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, he almost seems to say, like a patient but bemused parent to a child.

Morrigan raises a clawed hand to stroke his face. Thanagor huffs into her face and lies down next to her with a thump, sending dust flying every which way. She accepts his invitation and drags herself onto his back, clinging to his mane as he gets up again.

She's in dire need of some food.

Morrigan
Posts: 11
Joined: Thu Nov 20, 2014 2:25 pm

Re: The world that forgot

#4 Post by Morrigan » Tue Sep 11, 2018 12:24 am

"I dunno how it happend, but I think we are friends."

Morrigan has never had one of those, before.

Morrigan
Posts: 11
Joined: Thu Nov 20, 2014 2:25 pm

Re: The world that forgot

#5 Post by Morrigan » Wed Sep 19, 2018 1:45 am

At one point Nomine asks Morrigan how she is, if existence is as painful as it was before.

She considers giving him a sarcastic non-answer - after all, he's no better, forcing his conversation partners to sift through a mountain of bullshit to find the grain of truth beneath - but she finds herself... Tired. Tired in a way that is unfamiliar even to her, soulless husk that she was.

He's somewhat surprised by her reply. She understands, in a way. To everyone else, to the entire world, it has been six (seven?) years since the Embrace crumbled. To Morrigan, it has been only a few months, most of which she spent soulless and unable to feel much of anything at all.

Aside from a brief explosion of emotion on the night of her release from the Void, Morrigan has kept her newly-aquired feelings tightly locked within, allowing only a select few to emerge when appropriate.

She feels them tug testingly at their bonds when she asks Nomine if he knows for certain Sinthya is dead.

He says he does, and she is.

Morrigan has felt a lot of pain in her life, but it is at this moment that she realises she has never felt the pain of true loss. Loss of trust, certainly - rage, hurt, betrayal, fear; all of them are familiar to her.
But this loss, this grief, is unfamiliar.
It's a strange pressure that begins in the chest, then swells up into the throat and down into the stomach. It's a black sorrow that can't be redirected at someone else, can't be turned into mindless rage. It's a yearning for something that can't be reached anymore, the realisation that something precious is lost forever.

It wells up into her eyes and spills over like a flood.

Nomine speaks softly the entire time. He mentions a "howl," a tradition within Starlight where members can remember lost loved ones.
Morrigan scoffs. What's the point? They all hated Sinthya. They all think she was a sadistic monster.


--------

Morrigan flits about aimlessly that night, hoping that by moving physically she can escape the hollowness inside.

She doesn't know where Sinthya is buried, if she's been buried at all. Might be that they simply threw her body in a ditch once they were finished with it.

Instead Morrigan goes to Beggar's Haunt, the quiet, dark spot in the depths of Duskwood where she remembers they often met for discussions, meetings, or simple socialising.

In a near-panic, she realises there is nothing left of Sinthya after six years. No personal items, no paintings - even her house in Ironforge has been sold. Instead, Morrigan feverishly gathers anything and everything that reminds her of her Lady, and places them meticulously on a stone bench at the haunt. A Blackthorn branch, a bottle of red wine (it has to be red,) crimson silk fabric she stole from a shop in Stormwind, a whip, and as many red roses as Morrigan could find.

It isn't perfect. She scent isn't quite right, and none of these items actually belonged to Lady Sinthya, but it's the best Morrigan can do.

She knows nothing of funeral rituals, so she simply whispers a prayer into the void and lies down amongst the red silks and dying roses. She closes her eyes.

They all think Sinthya was a cruel monster, an abusive megalomaniac. But Morrigan recalls, with tears soaking into the silk beneath, the long fingers that stroked her hair when she demanded affection after a job well done. The firm but gentle voice that ordered her to eat and clean her wounds when she forgot, the striking green gaze and painted red lips.

Morrigan tries to say goodbye, but the words stick in her throat and a stabbing pain strikes her chest. Sinking her claws into her forearm, she tries again, voice breaking with heavy sobs.

Goodbye, my Lady.

Morrigan
Posts: 11
Joined: Thu Nov 20, 2014 2:25 pm

Re: The world that forgot

#6 Post by Morrigan » Mon Oct 22, 2018 12:36 am

Everyone is suffering from some kind of mass-delusion. Morrigan watches from the sidelines with interest.

The elf child is having a psychotic episode, and whacks Morrigan across the backside with her bow. Everything screeches to a halting stop in Morrigan's mind. It's a humiliating gesture, and her first instincts tell her to immediately wrestle the insolent brat into the mud and give her the beating of her life - her second instinct, fueled by years of careful conditioning from those Morrigan served, tell her to back down and obey.

Obey, or you'll regret it.

Morrigan obeys.

--------
Chit is fleeing from her friends and seeks shelter in Morrigan's barn.

Morrigan is learning things about friendship, about the strange, illogical things that are expected of her now that Chit considers her a friend. She is expected to handle pointless conflicts, chat about meaningless things, and now, follow Chit in hunting her delusion. Chit is angry when she refuses, does that thing that's probably meant to make Morrigan feel bad, and leaves.

If it was the brotherhood, Chit would be hunted down, captured, and her mind would be systematically broken down with various methods of torture until there was nothing left of her unpredictability. Morrigan is intimately familiar with this method.

It is not how things are done in this toothless guild. Morrigan is curious how it will be handled.

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