Diary of the white owl

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Posts: 55
Joined: Fri Jul 10, 2020 3:10 pm


#21 Post by Violet » Wed Jan 13, 2021 10:52 pm

Violet arose, slipping in her attire and fastening buttons and laces. She adjusted her hair and took a look into the mirror of the dressing table. Acceptable. She heard the shuffling of sheets behind her and felt the glowing, green eyes on her.
"Must you leave already?", asked Leth.
"I have business to attend to, as well as the meeting later tonight.", she replied with a soft smile, as she turned around.
The Sindorei adjusted his body in the bed, sitting up. Displaying his steeled body and the runes carved into his flesh. She remembered the exciting tingling she felt, whenever she touched them.
"That's at least another 4 hours - can't you stay?", he pressed with a charming smile.
A sigh left her lips as she stepped over and sat down on the bed, putting in her earrings. Afterward, her hand stroked softly along his chin.
"If I was to stay, this would mean something.", she explained patiently, yet got up right after to step outside. "I shall see you next week."
The elf let out a disappointed sigh.

The meeting itself was as usual - yet she was nervous about her proposal. She had read the letter several times beforehand, to make sure she got the situation right. She was certain Starlight could aid with the matter. Just as she was about to explain, however, a messenger had arrived. She couldn't make sense of why he would ask specifically for her.

It all happened within a heartbeat. Her eyes reading the letters, forming the words in her head and visualizing them. The blood in her veins suddenly went cold. She saw how the blade caught the light as it was drawn and her eyes widened. It was not her he went for, it was Nomine. She reacted before she thought - she could not tell how hard the spell was that was meant to throw him away, out of danger. All that crossed her mind in this moment was that she couldn't watch him get hurt. Yet now it was her, just her in the path of the weapon. She felt the impact. It was dull, the pain not as stinging as she had expected it, as it buried itself in her heart. Her heart... it was a crater and the blade filled it. Flooded her mind with so many whispers and screams that it almost deafened her mind. She felt the strength leave her, felt the pull of the blade, the whispers telling her to let go, to stop fighting. She fell but was caught by Shienlao, she barely even noticed her touch. Her eyes stared horrified at that thing stuck in her chest. This blade - she had seen it before. She knew what it was...
The last thing she saw, before her field of view grew smaller and smaller was Wilsbys horrified expression. They had to speak to Lishandriel. She knew...
And then there was only darkness left. She fell... and fell... and fell. Into an endless abyss, time and space holding no meaning in this place in her mind... or in the blade. She knew not where she was. Suddenly though, there was a pain, tugging on all her limbs, threatening to tear her apart. Hot, searing, white pain. And again... and again. She screamed her lungs out - but it was in vain. She stopped falling, being caught mid air, yet felt so incredibly heavy. She felt the strength flee her body at an alarming rate. She was so... tired. Just letting go becoming such a sweet thought.
Nothing happened, she did not know for how long. A minute? An hour? A year? Suddenly she crashed into solid ground amidst the pitch black darkness that had swallowed her.
There was a chuckle - amused and high. "You? I did not expect you here...", the female voice began - it sounded... familiar. She knew this voice.
"But of course you'd do the heroic thing - I should not be surprised... you're so... good.", it continued in a mocking manner, spitting out the last word almost in disgust.
Violet tried to speak, but she did not possess the means to form words any longer. She wasn't even sure if she possessed a body.
A bright ray of light came down, so bright, the mage had to shield her eyes. It hit a hooded figure, a woman, dressed in pitch black, she couldn't make out a face.
"I had planned for things to go down differently. It would have hastened your descent into madness watching another one go you care for. Shame. Bad timing I guess.", the figure shrugged. Only now she noticed the vile blade in her hand, poking the index finger of the other hand, as she turned it playfully.
"No matter. This shall work equally as fine...", she tilted her head. "Shall we begin then?"

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Joined: Fri Jul 10, 2020 3:10 pm


#22 Post by Violet » Mon Jan 18, 2021 9:40 am

(Contains Spoilers to the Plot that is currently ongoing, as well as some maybe unsettling scenes, but also insight for those interested in what is happening to Lady V.)
She sat at her desk, writing what felt like the thousandth condolence letter. And it felt like for every piece of parchment, for every name she took from the pile to her right two more appeared. She was tired, worn out, and exhausted. She craved sleep but it wouldn't come with this mountain of work on her table anyway. She stared down at the piece of paper. She could swear she had read that name a thousand times before. Yet her attention was caught by a drop of ink, that fell on the surface of the letter. Not black or blue it was... red. Like blood... and there was more, and more as if the page in front of her was weeping. She looked at her hands to realize in utter shock that they had been sullied in red. She tried to wipe it off on her robes but they were drenched in it, too. She could feel how her heart began to race, the panic that arose deep within her.
"Ohhh Violet, look at yourself, you've gotten your hands all bloodied.", the voice began, sweet as sugar. "All of them trusted you. All of them died. You have failed them. All of them. They could still be here you know? If it wasn't for you. Butcher."

A deep, startled breath filled her lungs, when all of a sudden she was not in her study in Stormwind anymore but found herself sitting on her desk in Boralus. Flint's knife pressed to her throat, his cocky grin on his lips. In disbelief, she reached out, touched his skin, and felt its warmth. She could touch him, feel him. He was real. Her breath now shaky she wanted to say something, how she had missed him, longed for him, but then his knive cut through her throat. Her eyes widened, as she felt warm blood flood her lungs instead of air. Shivering hands tried to close the gaping wound - to no avail. Flint stepped back as she fell on the ground, just staring at him with wide, scared eyes as she felt her red life draining from her. "Stupid bitch.", he spat out and laughed. Hot tears burned on her cheek, the first time, the tenth as well as the thousandths.
"He didn't love you. No one loved you. You're all alone."

And instead of the wooden floorboards, she found herself on the neat cobblestones of Dalaran, peppered with flower petals. She looked up to Rickard, his gentle hands reaching for her to help her up. But his likeness blurred. The sounds became dull, distant. Was this what had happened?
"Yes... is this what had happened Violet?", the voice asked.
She looked up again, saw Rickard laughing at her, everybody was laughing at her. The clumsy little mouse. There were no hands to help her up. No cocky grin. This is what had happened.

"Most beautiful indeed.", Rickard spoke, at the top of the Academy, overlooking the city of Dalaran, but it was not the City he was looking at. His touch was gentle and loving.
"Are you sure this is what happened Violet?", the voice asked again.
She shook her head, reality blurred, turned, twisted. She felt dizzy, tired. She then saw Rickard, kissing Miera. Her friend. Her closest ally, like a sister to her.
"He didn't love you either."
Bright, kindling fire licked at the sky above, as his tormented screams seized. Violet looking up at him from the ground she was kneeling on. Tears streaming down her cheeks at the sight. She was back here, again.
"So you killed him. You naughty, naughty thing.", the voice chuckled in amusement.
She could not take it anymore, couldn't take these endless visions anymore. Couldn't tell what was real and what was fabrication anymore. She just let out a tormented scream. But it didn't make it stop. It never stopped.

She held Flints limp body in her arms, a gaping, bleeding wound in his chest where the dagger had cut. The light in his eyes had gone out. She sobbed and cried, pressed her forehead against his. The pain of his loss was almost unbearable.
"Look what they did.", the voice purred.
Rage was forming within her, they had taken him. They took his life, took him from her. She couldn't control it anymore. All she wanted to do was avenge him. Make them bleed for what they had done to him. Around her the battle was still raging. But she... just let go. Finally she let go. Let her magic run wild, letting the flames free, to do as they wished. Ending both friend and foe around her with a pained outcry.
"Yes! YES! Let it all out, let it happen!", the voice giggled, satisfied.
She looked up to the hooded figure in front of her. She was broken, shattered. As was her heart.
"Who killed him Violet?"
She shook her head, the face of the Elf was still vivid when she closed her eyes. But it started to slowly blurr.
"I... I don't remember...", she answered truthfully.
A sharp pain rushed through her, and she was forced to relive it all again. For the thousandth maybe millionth time.
"Who killed him Violet?"
"Who has done this to him?"
"Who wielded the blade?"
And suddenly it was clear as day. Images of her friends, holding the bloodied dagger, the king, Falroc, her daughter.
"They did...", she mumbled, an empty husk.
"They did. And what do we do with those who hurt us?", the hooded figure wanted to know.
Violet looked in her face once more. She knew it, she knew it well.
"It is alright my dear. I am here for you. I am the only one here for you. The only one you can trust.", she purred further, placing a little kiss on her lips. Yes, she could trust her. She was her friend, her only friend.
"What do we do with them Violet? How do we make them pay?", the figure asked again, holding out the dagger to her, hilt facing the mage.

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The Game

#23 Post by Violet » Tue Mar 16, 2021 2:47 am

( WARNING: this might trigger some people. Also please note that this depicts the fictional views and thoughts of my character, not mine as a person :) )

The steaming, hot water felt good on her skin. She allowed herself to lean back and relax, let her weakened muscles lose their ever-present tension for a moment. She thought about her conversation with Nomine, about his hesitance - no his denial - about giving her the ring. About giving Flint's soul into her care. Clearly, he didn't trust what she would be willing to do. Part of her was furious, the other part thankful for his honesty. But was he? Honest? Was he ever truly? Or was he just sprinkling half truths and illusions into previously established facts?
She felt dizzy from thinking too much. She felt the rough stone of the dwarven made bathtub underneath her delicate fingertips. Inhaled the scent of the rosepetal soap Falroc had brought her deeply, to then exhale in a tired sigh. He still felt bad, ashamed regarding her abduction. She didn't hold it against him, she knew nothing of it was his fault. And there was nothing he could have done. Her two-colored eyes switched to one of the flickering candles, watching its dancing flame for a bit, before she killed it with a gentle gust from her full lips. Then she concentrated on it again. On the twirling, filigree string of smoke rising from it. On the tiny little blaze that was left, slowly dying away, slipping from existence. Reignite... burn... she thought. Trying to channel her power, tapping into the arcane, letting it rush through her body and bending reality to her will, shape into her volition, forcing it into form. With an almost inaudible hiss it extinguished. She didn't feel the familiar, addicting rush, instead the hot trail of blood from her nose that let a single drop fall into the liquid and dissolve like smoke in it. Exhausted she let herself be consumed by the water as she sank underneath the surface, seeking quiet and shelter from the outside world.
And as she sank, her eyes closed, she was back. Back in her ocean of guilt. Drowning in the corpses of those she had failed. Strangled by sadness, choking on despair, her heart being torn to shreds by it. All this blood on her hands...
Her heart pounded against her chest, her blood started rushing through her stiffening body. Her fingers cramped, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. She was back. Drowning. Being overwhelmed. No escape. Her fault. Her eyes shot open, the water rich with soothing salts and soap burned in them. Panicking she gasped for air, as she broke through the surface once more, water splashing over the edge of the tub, her frail fingers clinging to it. She barely had the strength to keep her body up. It was still weak, almost broken. She was disgusted by it. She hated feeling weak. Hated being frail and helpless. Powerless.

It was good speaking to Morrigan. It was good seeing her. Having her around. Ironfur had told her what she had done for her. And it was good to understand some more about her. Equally, as it was good to be understood without judgment. To understand the pain, to recognize it and find common ground. To learn more about the woman. She didn't pity her, as well as Morrigan didn't pity Violet. They merely recognized their wounds, holding the other in high esteem for surviving them. It was so terribly mundane to have a cup of tea and talk. She admired her bluntness, her way of just stating things as they were. A thing many people lacked. But what she went through sounded horrible. The detailed recount of the events pained Violet and she wished she could soothe her pain at least a little. A familiar thought... And she was right, the tale Morrigan told changed her views... but they faced a common interest. So maybe there was a way to soothe her pain, too. And where others may have seen a monster or an abomination Violet just saw an ally, a friend she deeply cared for. Someone who was dealt a bad hand by fate yet rose far above it. She would not allow for more pain to find its way to her. Secretly she swore an oath to herself to protect the Voidling.

Dalaran felt different. Once her home, now her hidingplace. Her lodgings were simple, not all that big. She had spent a great deal of time here during her time as a novice to the Archmage. It still held some of her belongings. The thick layer of dust on the ground told the tale of rooms that have not been stepped in for years. She looked out of the window of her dayroom. The streets were as busy as ever. She missed it. It drove away the lonely quiet that threatened to consume her. There was lots of work waiting for her. She would not just simply accept that there was nothing she could do, that there was no way of letting her love walk amongst the living again, no matter how insistent people were. She would find it. No matter where no matter when. No matter how long it took or how far she would have to venture for it. In magic... there always was a way. And she would not allow anyone to stand between her and Flint.
She remembered her conversation with Morrigan. So... he liked to play games? And all of a sudden it made sense. Of course he was not interested. But her misplaced infatuation secured him her loyalty. And that was what it was all about. Loyalty. Gentle touches and sweet words just placed so she would remain on a hook, remaining bound to him by her affections. Willing to follow his command no matter how much it went against her morals. She remembered the people afflicted by the scourge and how in the end she stood aside.
She eyed her reflection in the window. Her scars seemed deeper, her cheeks slightly caved in. Her face bare of any emotion, her eyes tired and sad. Yet... he too saved her. And she couldn't fight the feeling of gratitude that washed over her. She remembered the odd feeling in her chest, when he left the other night. How she wanted to reach out to him, and stayed back, just staring at that closed door. She couldn't place the sharp pain she had felt for the briefest of moments. And she couldn't place it this very moment, when it struck again.
So he liked to play games... she would play along. For far too long she stood aside, let herself be pushed around by fate and other peoples agendas. Letting herself fall victim to affection, allowing it to cloud her judgment. It made her lose Flint. Because she was limited by her fears and doubts. She was having none of it anymore, not in this moment. She pushed aside the pain she felt when thinking about Nomine, focussed on the task at hand.
Firstly finding a way to bringing her pirate back, secondly finding the witch that was responsible for all of this in the first place. Gladly she would tear her apart from limb to limb and enjoy every second with it. She will find the greatest of delights in revenge. She saw her eyes turning, saw the color matching in both. A warm and fierce orange. She felt the surge that went through her veins, the addicting, tempting ecstasy it caused. She averted her gaze to the candle next to her. Watched with pride as a lively, deeply red flame came to be, burning brightly. She ignored the warm trail of blood again.
She was done being pushed around by destiny. This game... could be played by two people. She depicted her hand reaching out for her queen on the checkered field, touching its elegantly carved form, feeling the comfortable, reassuring weight. And it was time... to make her move.

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A flicker of doubt

#24 Post by Violet » Sat Mar 20, 2021 2:56 am

"Ah, I see. It is awfully convenient that you find a reason to despise him, now that this pirate of yours is back one stage, is it not?", Persiphora spoke in a sharp tone, before she took a sip from her teacup.
"Convenient? I would say nothing about this is convenient. What exactly are you getting at?", Violet replied, her words angered her.
"What I am getting at?", the older woman laughed amused and shook her head. "Nothing, just that it is not like you to just hear one side of a story and then judge. Especially the biased side. That is all I am saying. I remember how you swooned over him. Awfully adorable and entertaining, yet far beneath you, my dear child. You could get better. More suitable for your superiority, you are Kirin Tor after all. Superiority is our birthright.", was the Archmage's dry answer. Beneath her? Not like her? What was she talking about.
"Did you not hear what he did? Are you defending him? Defending such actions?!", Violet shot back, getting furious again.
"I have a set of still healthy ears, yes girl. Which is also why you need not raise your voice with me, I hear you just fine. And what are your sins? What have you done because you had to just in the last war alone? What did we all do once we had to? What are you willing to do now?", was all she got - and in a rather snarky tone. Suddenly the mage felt like 16 again, sitting across from her, getting a firm scolding. She knew very well about the things she did. But that was different, was it not?
"That is just not fair!", Violet shot back.
"No, it is absolutely not, I'm glad we sorted that out then.", the Archmage shrugged, dunking her cookie into her tea. "I shall allow you to enter the Archmages library, I shall allow you to continue your research and soon enough you will see that there is no way and this entire balderdash will be over.", she added casually. A flicker of hope spread in Violet's chest.
"It was you who taught me that in magic there is always a way, if you are just willing to pay the price! I will find something!", the mage answered with newfound enthusiasm. The tomes and that library have been carried together from all corners of Azeroth, some of them being straight out ancient. Somewhere in this pool of ancient wisdom there just had to be something. A mention, a hint, or even a way. There had to be.
"Oh yes, please do inform me once you have found the cure for mortality. I'm sure you would be the very first to look for it.", the Archmage began anew, mocking, eying her with that intense gaze of hers. It always felt like she stripped anything but her soul away. Staring at her most intimate thoughts laid bare. "My sweet child, if there was a way, I would happily tell you. And there likely would at least two fallen Wrynn kings walking about if there were. Trust me when I say that the fallen are gone. I understand your pain, but this... obsession of yours will not mend it, and it certainly will it change what happened. Nor will it help him. You are alive and so you must go on. Such is the burden of those left behind.", the last of her words sounded so awfully sympathetic. So understanding so... nice. It stirred her fury even more. Why was no one listening? She had that soul. Well... Nomine had that soul, but she would retrieve it somehow.
"What do you know? You're old and frustrated and bitter! Of course no one could find it if no one ever tried! And stop calling me child! I'm none anymore!", she hissed and jumped up, storming off in a huff. She wasn't having any of this anymore, from no one. How could they all be so ignorant? So blind?
"Stop behaving like a brat and I just might. And by the nether eat something girl! You look like you're about to snap in half.", was the last Violet heard.

It proved much more difficult to remain distant to Nomine. To regain the anger and rage she felt towards him. Not just because of what the Archmage had said. He was so... nice and understanding. In fact... it didn't seem like he would deny her anything related to Flint nor keep him from her. But that of course had to be part of his overall agenda. It would ensure her affections would only strengthen. As well as her trust in him. In him being a friend and ally. It would ensure her further loyalty. She couldn't trust it. Even though she found that he seemed almost hurt by her sudden change of treatment. It's all just part of the plan... she reminded herself. And again she felt that tight pain in her chest. She shook her head firmly - she had no time to argue with him, no time to spare to listen to his excuses and half-truths. She had to focus on the tome in front of her. The parchment was brittle on the edges, the runes of the old tongues. It was hard to read, and even harder to understand. It made her head feel woozy. It described an in detail record of interactions with the souls of the dead, but still, there was no hint of any way to actually put one back into a solid, physical form. It was already frustrating. It was the twentieth tome she had taken from the library.

Day and Night cycled before her studies window without her even noticing. She felt drained and tired, and with every page she turned she grew more frustrated. Tome after tome, scroll after scroll but so far nothing. Not even a hint. But there had to be something somewhere in this netherdamn pool of knowledge! There just had to be someone who tried and succeeded before. She knew it. She knew she was so close. Her eyes tried to focus on the page before her. But the letters seemed to blurr and become illegible before her sight. She read the sentence over and over, but it didn't make any sense anymore. She was so sunken in that state that she didn't hear the door opening and neither the footsteps approaching.
"M'lady have ya eaten yet?", it was Falrocs gruff voice that startled her almost to the point of falling from her chair.
"Wha-... no. No.", she replied, shaking her head and looking back down to her tome - the words still not clear.
"Hrm... I see, but yer should eat a bit, yer know.", he continued with a soft tone of voice.
"Yes. I know.", she sounded more annoyed than she intended to, but the disruption of her studies angered her. Like anything else lately.
"Yer awfully thin so maybe yer shou-"
"I WILL EAT ONCE I HAVE THE NETHERDAMN TIME FOR IT!", she yelled at him, raging from the lack of sleep, hunger, exhaustion and her utter despair. She felt sorry the moment the words slipped from her tongue, just a look at his face. He was taken aback by her sudden outburst, frowning with his brows tightly pulled together. She shouldn't have attacked him like that.
"Very well, M'lady.", he said almost timidly, yet she saw it in his eyes. He too thought she was pursuing a lost cause. He lost not one word more before he left the room, taking his position again, dutiful as ever. He had been by her side through the best and worst parts. Through the rushes of victory and through the deep pit of her cruelty when she would tear her enemies apart just to hear them scream, and only then did he carry the same look in his eyes. Yet he never abandoned her. An apology was in order. She knew. She felt ashamed.

Another day and another night had passed, her body at the brink of forcing her down. She could barely keep herself upright. She had allowed herself an hour of sleep the night before, but her studies demanded everything. Nothing less than her utmost attention. Her everything. They consumed her. For she knew there was a way. Again the door opened, and again it was Falroc. He carried a little tray - a cup of steaming hot tea on it along with two rather big cinnamon rolls, richly drowned in sugar coating and sugar sprinkles that looked like purple rocks, like he picked them up for her from the café across the street. A perfectly unhealthy delight. Violet let out an exhausted sigh. She looked at him, now it was honest worry she saw.
"Thank you...", the words were so quiet she was surprised he even picked them up. He lifted one of his chaps to a one-sided smirk and growled in acknowledgment, before he again left.
She was so tense. Worn out and tired. Every fiber in her body craved for two things: food and sleep. But her mind clung to her endless quest. She had still not found anything. It was infuriating. There had to be people before her. She rubbed her filigree hands all over her face, massaged the bridge of her nose and then reached for one of the rolls. They tasted heavenly. She felt her form reawaken just from the sugar touching her tongue, holding the sweet promise of sustenance. She leaned back against her comfortable high-backed chair. As she was chewing, her gaze inevitably landed on the little stone on her desk, not too far away from that darned book. With the little rune, Syra had carved into it. It felt like a lifetime ago. She didn't know why, but she reached for it. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe duty or maybe something entirely different. The response was quick.
"Eve to ya Violet, I trust Dalaran is still friendly to ya"
She closed her eyes, she had to remain distant. She couldn't let herself fall into the trap, be caught up in this stupid game of his. She had to be vigilant. And angry. But... the euphemism about tall, very pointy towers... she couldn't help it. She placed her hand over her mouth to hold back the laughter that was desperately trying to escape her body. As if they could ever hear it - but still. It wriggled out of her anyways, the joyful sound almost sounding alien in her ears and feeling wrong and right at the same time. It was so hard to be mad at him. To remain distant. When he offered understanding. Not for loss. But for pain and regret, for guilt and shame... Why was it always so damn hard? She couldn't allow herself to doubt everything she had learned that afternoon not too long ago. She couldn't allow herself to... do what exactly?

Hot water gave no more comfort. No more escape. She sat there, her arms wound around her long legs, her forehead leaning against her knees. She was scared of sleep. For she feared it would bring more memories... or visions. She was awake, and she could tell reality and torturous visions apart again. But she still remembered them. Some part of her body even still felt them. But her body was not shivering anymore, her fingers not cramping, her breath was free and calm. And yet as she sat there in the now cold water, naked, she felt vulnerable and weak. But the need for the one single thing she truly desired, hidden away, buried under so many things, was spreading through her veins like fire through a dried forest. What she wanted, desired was but one thing: revenge. And an old lust for bloodshed arose in her chest again. She wanted it, so bad. Wanted to cause immeasurable pain to those who did this to him. She didn't know how she could keep herself on her feet - she reckoned the holy rage inside of her fuelling her beyond the limits of her now frail body. But she couldn't help it. She just sat down on her bed... and the next thing she remembered was the songs of the birds the morning after. Feeling a bit stronger. She had her hair done this time, not doing it herself, her shivering hands hindered her. Hiding her dark circles under powder, having her eyes framed with charcoal, her cheeks rosy and her lips the colour of blood. It was time to pay a visit...

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Joined: Fri Jul 10, 2020 3:10 pm

Re: Diary of the white owl

#25 Post by Violet » Wed Mar 24, 2021 3:18 am

(Disclaimer: Very mild Nsfw ahead :3 )
Violet strolled through the streets for what felt like hours. Diving into the busy hustle and bustle. Even at this hour Dalaran was busy - if one knew where to look. It was quieter than usual though. It made it easier to move through the cobblestone alleys. Her mind was racing. She wanted answers, she got them. And a lot of logic. So much that she couldn't yell at him any more, no matter how bad she wanted to. She wanted to punch him for what he did to Morrigan. She wanted to hate him for it. She wanted him to finally shut up and keep talking at the same time. But what he said seemed... fair. Familiar to her - oddly so. A realization that hit her. The things she had done when she thought she had to, when she thought them necessary, especially to protect her own.
She thought and thought, and then thought some more. So much clearer than the past few days, the burden of despair lessened somehow. She craved knowledge - she got some, maybe even more than was good for her. But she craved other things, too.
Yet it surprised her when the Sindorei opened the door to his quarters, looking equally baffled by her appearance.
It didn't need words, they knew the boundaries of their little arrangement. She turned her head when Leth reached down to kiss her, feeling his lips on her neck. Her fingers trailing over his bare skin, feeling the rush of euphoria in her veins, when they came close enough to the runes embedded in his flesh. A barbaric practice, yet quite effective to forge him into a weapon. It tingled, a delicious tenseness spreading through both of their bloodstreams, making them shiver in anticipation.
She craved connection, warmth, she felt lonely, parts of her lost and scattered. Half of her was fire. It was in the nature of fire to be nurturing, welcoming, warm, spending light in the darkness. But fire could also be furious, wild and savage, destructive and uncontrollable. It made her hot-headed, impatient, she was never just angry, she was furious. It formed that fury into a desire for revenge, payback, a lust for blood, and vengeance. A double-edged blade, cutting herself as well as her foes. Drawing blood, leaving scars. It was the price of her power.
She looked over to the elf, peacefully sleeping. His blood-red hair spread on the pillow, the symbols on his skin glowing softly. She still felt lonely, she still felt hollow. Not much later she found herself wandering again. Aimlessly. She had no destination. Nowhere to be exactly. Violet raised her two-colored sight up to the sky. She hadn't looked at the stars for a long while. It was easy to forget their beauty. And then she realized. Her mind was calm. Fully and utterly silent. It was just her... and her thoughts. No voices, no promises of power just a mere spell away. Violet exhaled, heavily, her breath forming a little cloud in the cold of night. Why...? What had changed?
She stood at the entrance of her lodgings. She grew quite fond of them by now. Away from Stormwind and the schemes and burdens of nobility. Here she was just one among many other Kirin Tor. Just ... Violet. She looked to her right, the heavy double doors to her study, standing open like the hungry mouth of a beast. Maybe she should continue searching, searching for things she wouldn't find, because they didn't exist - or did they? She acquired knowledge that people had died and returned by the means of rituals, that there was a book that contained that very knowledge. But... those people were evil, were they not? Was she ready to become what she despised? To cross the line? What could she do? What harm might it inflict? Was she willing to pay the price? For in magic there always was a way... some... way...
She didn't know why, but her steps led her to her bed chambers instead. She lay there on her bed, staring at the soft fabric of her canopy bed above, tracing the lines between the little, embroidered stars in her mind. She chewed on her bottom lip - a habit acquired whenever she thought really hard about something. There it was again - that little pain in her chest. She let out a low sigh, the oh so maniest that evening.
"What are you doing Violet...", she mumbled to herself, her voice sounding awfully loud regardless, now that her mind was quiet. She wanted to ponder, to think even more, to overthink her overthinking - but she was so exhausted and worn down. The dagger, her excessive obsession with something that might not even exist, her sleeplessness... it all fell away. And she just drifted there, caught in that moment, again and again, staring at the little golden specks over her head. She was ... tired. Positively tired. Her eyelids have been so heavy, just as her limbs. She felt her body relax, a certain tenseness leaving her limbs. She felt alive... whatever that meant. She didn't dream that night - no nightmares, no flashbacks. Blissful nothingness.

Posts: 55
Joined: Fri Jul 10, 2020 3:10 pm


#26 Post by Violet » Sun Apr 04, 2021 12:34 am

Violet felt tired, worn out. She had stared at the blood in her hand. She still was weak. And weakness was a sin. She didn’t know what came over her, what possessed her when she tore the man to shreds. There was this unbridled fury, he had hurt her friends… and he deserved to suffer for it.
She remembered that kind of fury, it was not the first time it had fueled her magic and her bloodlust, and certainly not the last time either. She remembered standing up on that hill, looking down to that horde camp. Remembered the laugh of the horde general, a Sindorei, bearing promises of innocent blood, flowing in scarlet rivers. His mocking words. Remembered the council everyone had given her. Remembered the doubts that honor, faith, and chivalry had cast into her. The looks of the children on the other side of that hill. The fear in the eyes of the grownups. They were outnumbered and they knew it. Making every step she took up there a war within her mind. She remembered giving the order, remembered the mages gathering around her. The price of the greater good, of a new tomorrow for those children. And she remembered the flames. The cries. The hot tears streaming down her face. The ashes. No mercy. No survivors.
That was the other side of the medallion. The other side of warmth and light. The inferno, cruelty, and rage. The beast she tried to keep in the chains it belonged. The monster.
“Hold up roight there lass!”, the booming voice tore her right out of her thoughts. She pulled the reins of her steed, stopping her before running him over. Green eyes staring at her under a thick rug of matted, brown hair and a grand beard.
“By the tides! It’s Violet! JEFFRREY! JEEEFFRRREEEY!”, he yelled and it felt like his voice echoed from the very cliffs and back, over and over again, making Violet feel vulnerable as she slid out of the saddle. The impact on the ground sent a sharp pain through her weakened form.
She didn’t have much time to reply, as the chubby pirate slid down from his crowsnest, engulfing her in the tightest hug she had felt in ages. Her eyes widened, and she stiffened up.
“By the light you’re suffocating me Jeff.”, she chuckled, as he finally let go of her. “Angus.”, she inclined her head with a smile towards the other man. It felt… oddly good to see them. To be here. Freehold. She avoided it for far too long.
“Yer be lookin’ loike proper shite lass. Wha' happened to yer?”, Angus asked, as he took the reins of her horse.
“Long story, pretty boring too I fear…”, she replied, as she told them about a little ambush she’s gotten herself into. Though she let out the notable details about why they were there in the first place or whom she was there with. It felt so natural to stride around that place, everything seemed so familiar, nothing had really changed. It was a little run down, a little dirty, smelly but it tasted like… freedom.
She heard the raspy shanties that echoed from the bar, her heart swelling at the sound of the familiar tunes, her mind remembering the lyrics to most of it. But she only just realized where they took her, when they opened the door. And as soon as the people laid eyes on her … one could hear a needle fall. The tallest of them all, sitting in the far back on a long table, put his feet from it and got up. A grizzly man, muscular, littered in tattoos with a red, leather coat and a tidy white shirt beneath. A shiny kraken belt buckle held his pants in place. His beard was magnificent. Tidy. His eyes piercing and the color of the very sea he conquered. He towered over her, his gaze dangerously narrowed and serious.
“Well I’ll be damned…”, he rumbled with his raspy, dark voice. No one said anything. Everyone just stared at them. “Look what a pretty lil’ bird landed ‘ere. Yer be lookin’ loike proper shite.”, he added with a grunt.
“Well gee, you’ve looked better too. I love what you’ve done with your hair though. How do you get it to come out of the nostrils like that.”, the mage answered, not without a certain sense of pride to her voice, hardly suppressing the grin that naturally tried to take a grip of her full lips.
The tall man's eyes narrowed even further – before he broke out in booming, gruff laughter, filling out the entire inn with it. A warm and very pleasant sound that infected one with a sense of joy and wellbeing. He closed the distance between them, and he too, wrapped his arms tightly around her, lifting her off the ground as he gave her a bear hug. She couldn’t help the feelings that just washed over her like waves of the ocean. She couldn’t help but to join his laughter, wrapping her own, filigree arms around his neck. He pressed her to his body, in a very fatherly fashion. She felt warmth and safety crawling up her spine. A feeling of home.
“Welcome home lil-crow.”, he muttered with the widest of grins.
“It is good to see you, Edmund.”, she mumbled back into the crease of his neck. She didn’t want to let go. He embodied something to her. A safe haven. Yet sooner or later she had to, as her feet found solid ground again. He let her down so softly, as if he was scared to break her. Around the bustle began again, along with the roaring of the chatter in the filled bar. A comfortable sound.
“Get the lass her chair!”, the white-bearded man demanded in a bossy manner – certainly he could. He was among the leaders of the Freehold. If they ever knew something like authority. The structures here were delightfully chaotic. Yet at the free chair, the one to the right of the tallest one, on that long table, she froze in her tracks. It was not hers. Not hers to take. Unconsciously she took a step backward.
“I-I can’t. It’s his.”, she said lowly.
“It was his lass… he would’ve wanted yer to take it. Fer all I care tis be yers by roight.” Edmund grumbled.
Violet looked up at him, looked at the people staring at her expectantly. It was an offer of respect. And her manners bade her to take it politely – yet every fiber of her being resisted it. Her fingers gently stroked over the blood-red velvet. It was an awfully well-made chair for a place like this. She couldn’t help but remember him sitting in it.
One leg on the table, the other stretched out on the ground with a mighty jug of ale in his grip. How he watched her, while she sat with Falroc at the bar, discussing troop movements and trying to ignore the horrendous loud noise those pirates made. How he winked at her, when she looked over her shoulder, raising his jug. How she rolled her eyes and quickly looked away from that awful man. She hated being forced to work with him. Hated being on his home turf.
How he grinned widely when she finally won her first game of darts, when she jumped excitedly up and down, clapping her filigree hands together, the men and women cheering at her - for them just another reason to drink. When she turned around to face him. When there were many beautiful women in there, but he would only look at her, reveling in her small little victory, obviously amused about it. Glaring at her like a hungry wolf stalking its prey, stirring flames deep within her very soul.
How he would stand on that very table, growling along to some shanty or telling a silly story… gods was he a fine story teller. How he would pull her out of a dance and onto his lap, kissing her passionately without any hint of shame in public before all those people. In Stormwind? Unthinkable... When she wasn’t a Lady, but just Violet. And Violet was free. Wild and fierce. Daring.
She sat down, it felt so awfully familiar, yet so alien at the same time. Her slender arms placed on the armrests – she must have looked odd by the look on the older pirate's face. All stiff and weird.
“Yer playin’ queen fer a day or why yer be sittin’ there loike good ol’ Gertrude shoved her staff up yer arse?”, he joked with another laugh, causing her to relax a little, as a wooden Jug was placed in front of her. The foam softly running down its sides.
“Take a drink it’ll warm yer insides up alroight!”, he said, raising his own to take a mighty swig.
She needed both of her hands to even lift it – and she couldn’t tell anymore if it was because she felt so weak right now, from casting too many spells for her still frail stamina or because it was simply filled to the brim. The sweet and fruity taste filled her mouth and indeed warm her up from the inside. It was still as malty as she remembered, badly brewed one might say. But the taste soothed so many of her churned emotions.
“Still tastes loike piss, eh?”, Edmund boomed with another gruff laugh.
“I love it!”, Violet replied, and she almost had to yell a little to make her voice be heard over the chatter, laughter and singing in the shabby bar.
It was nice just watching all those odd people. They all seemed so colorful and beautifully weird. They have been dealt a really bad hand by fate and yet spat in its face with a smile – most of them at least, since she knew Edmund was the son of a once well-known noble. But he chose this life, above the comforts of nobility. She understood why. Freedom was an alluring thing. Standing up for what you believed in, unshackled by law and rules, just being able to take what you wanted, whenever wherever.
Soon her attention was caught by the melodic sound of instruments. Just as everyone else’s in the bar. And they all sang along, swaying to the music. They all were so… cheerful. Delightfully mad. Dancing and clapping and singing like they didn’t have a single care in the world.


Angus might have been a very unsightly man, grumpy on the outside and very reserved and suspicious towards people he didn’t know, but his singing voice was astoundingly nice. It lulled one right in. He had some generous talent and certainly could have made a very good living in a town like Stormwind or Boralus.
“C’mon lil-crow yer be knowin the song! Rude tae not sing along!”, Edmund prodded her with his elbow and a wide mischievous grin. She didn’t feel like it at all. She was tired, she just wanted to sit there and watch them all, be away from Stormwind, away from Dalaran, away from everything. To just be Violet for a few fleeting moments. But so she sang along gingerly.
“Wha? I cannae hear ya!”, Edmund boomed again, laughing and taking a giant sip from his ale.
And before she knew she raised her own, roaring along with the rest of them, with all she had left in her. “This night we spend ashore!” She didn’t mean to, but she was infected by their jolly laughter, their good mood. Their love of life.

She twirled and jumped and twirled some more. Laughing and giggling in her simple, blue skirt with the white buccaneer blouse. Wildflowers braided in her hair. They had just pulled her into the middle of the dance. The joy of victory clearly overtaking them – that or the promise of gold from the King for their… help in this delicate matter. No one knew the smuggling routes better than the pirates after all. And the Sound once more was save. She looked at Flint, how he sat there in his chair to the right of Edmund, all high and mighty, just smiling like a fool. His golden eyes fixed on her. He got up, with quite some force, almost toppling his mighty fine chair over. Not caring to make his way round the table he stepped right on it and over it to get to her. His strong arm around her, pulling her close, his hand traveling along her arm in that delightful manner that sent shivers down her spine, before firmly gripping her hand, dancing with her like a madman, right to the cords of a ridiculously quick tune. They both just laughed and giggled. He spun her, and again, and again, until she was positively dizzy. He held her firmly, secure and save.
She was still chuckling as he pulled her up that hill. The view was stunning. The ocean seemed endless and one could take in all of the Freehold at once. The many fires, the cheerful cries and laughter, the distant tunes.
“Welcome tae me special lil’ place, petal.”, Flint said with a wide grin. “Be comin’ ‘ere often tae think, yer know?”, he explained further.
“To think? My, what would you possibly have to ponder about, a man with no love for the law nor morals?”, she teased him with a cheeky grin, not giving him time to answer and stealing his hat, running from him further up that cliff while she placed it onto her head. She swirled around at him, acting quite flamboyant.
“You're gonna call me captain now?”, she asked playfully. He just looked at her in awe. That special look, his amber eyes somehow softening as he flashed his perfect smile.
“Could do, yer know? Got yerself quite the set o' sealegs.”, he replied, stepping closer. His big, calloused hands brushing past her hip, pulling her close gain. Her filigree fingers against the soft fabric of his shirt covering his chest lazily.
He looked down at her, longing. Her lips parted ever so slightly. She wanted to say something, tell him something.
“I love ya.”, the words from his lips ran through her very being like bright lightning, rumbling through her very being and shaking her very soul awake. It set something inside of her on fire. And oh how she burned. But the words… they did not come over her lips. She had loved a man before… a man that had died. A man she was married to. How could she ever speak those words again aloud to another? She must have looked desperate.
“Tis aight, ya don’t have to say it.”, Flint added softly, stroking a strand of her snow-white hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. He wasn’t judging, nor did he seem disappointed. He just… looked at her with that look in his golden eyes. “But when this all be over, I want yer tae stay wimme.”, he added bluntly. Violet pulled back, looking up at him. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, her fingers feeling numb in the most positive of ways. Yet she softly pushed him away, bringing distance between them, looking back over the Freehold and away from him. Scared to look him in the eyes. She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to stay… gods did she want to stay with him.
“Vi… did I take somethin’ wrong between us? I thought yer were … well… feck.”, he mumbled, rubbing his neck. The tone of his voice broke her heart. And now she had to break his. What duty demanded. Whatever duty demanded… right? It would be easier that way. It was a fling, it meant nothing. They came from two different worlds. As everyone so keenly reminded them. Her breath began to become uneasy. Her feet rooting her to the very soil. She turned around, she had to tell him. She had to send him away, tell him off – this was going way too far.
The waves crashed loudly against the cliffs beneath them, the salty scent of the spray tingling in her nose. A soft ocean breeze tenderly stroked through her hair – never so softly as Flints fingers did though. They looked at each other, searching for the others eyes. The feeling in her chest almost suffocated her. Desperately she was probing for the right words, all being stuck in her throat. This was more than mere longing, or a little convenience.
“You have no idea how bad I want to stay…”, she began, her voice awfully thin. She could feel the tears swelling in her eyes, burning like the fire she wielded. “But I swore an oath.”, she added, the sound no more than a husky whisper.
His thick brows rose as he stepped closer, taking her filigree, little hands into his paw-like ones. They seemed lost within them.
“To yer King?”, he asked and she nodded. “And what did that fancey-schmancey King e’er do fer ya? Sent yer from one field o’ death tae the next, like yer a tool, his lil' puppet. Feck yer King.”, he said, spitting on the ground.
“Feck yer little noble fartfaces. Feck yer stupid oaths. Feck all of ‘em I say.”, he continued, his words sharp as blades. “Feck yer duty. Look a’ tha’.”, he said, turning her to face the ocean and the Freehold.
“Why be seetlin’ fer one war after another, when ‘ere yer could be free. Do somethin’ dumb, be egoistic fer once in yer miserable life. Take everythin’ ya can an’ keep it all to yerself! Ask yerself what ya want Violet. Not anyone else. If yer wanna go, I’ll be lettin’ ya go. If it is what yer be wantin’.”, he continued passionately. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t ever leave this rock, or this place… nor all of those wonderfully crazy people ...and neither did she want to leave his arms. He quieted down the nightmares, made her feel free and full of joy. He stirred flames awake she thought had died all those many years ago on an icy plane in Northrend. He showed her what life meant.
Her knees grew weak at the sensation of his breath on her neck. She loved him. But she couldn’t say the words. Guilt prevented her. But there was something she could say. She turned around again, facing him. She saw it in his eyes – that little flicker of fear. He was genuinely scared she would leave. Again she couldn’t speak. But where words failed her actions spoke. She kissed him, as if her very life depended on it. No, she didn’t want to go back. She wanted to be with him. With his people. She wanted to be free. Be with him. Venture out on the wide ocean and explore the unknown parts of the world. Face the worst of storms and emerge from it. She wanted to leave all the war, all the death and all the blood far behind her. A distant memory. She wanted to be happy, to be alive.

And there, on that very hill, she sat now. Her arms wrapped around her legs, her forehead resting against her knees. Next to a little pile of stones, forget-me-nots blooming all around it, marking a simple little grave, holding his ashes. Overlooking Freehold and the wide, endless ocean. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. As if she had no more tears left. She didn’t hear the footsteps, not before Edmund's heavy body sunk down next to hers. Violets two-coloured eyes looked up at the offered bottle of rum.
The man looked out over the ocean, as if giving her a sense of dignity. Somberly she took the bottle, not drinking, just holding it as if she expected it to give her some sense of security.
“Yer barely holdin' it together, are ya? I be knowin’ tha’ look on yer face.”, he spoke softly. She didn’t know how to reply, what to say or what to do. So she just shrugged, taking a hesitant sip from the bottle. The effect was immediate. Spreading a positively painful burning pain down her throat and into her stomach.
“I just wonder what he would do now… what advice he would have…”, she replied lowly, handing him the bottle back. Immediately he took another of his giant swigs, basically emptying it halfway.
“Cannae say, but I be sure he would be wantin’ yer to keep on livin’, eh? He be gone, petal. Miss the lil’ shit as well. Been loike a son tae me. Yer be needin’ tae let him go. Yer know what yer need tae be doin’.”, he grumbled.
She knew. She knew her duty. But she just couldn’t bring it over her. The sun was just crawling over the horizon. Casting a warm, pleasant light over the entire pirate harbor. Illuminating the purple and black sails of the Dirty Mistress.
“I know… I just… I can’t. Not yet. Not while there still might be a chance…”, she admitted, reaching for the bottle again, to take a sip herself – big one. The burning sensation felt good. It eased the turmoil in her head a little.
“A chance? Petal, if there be a chance for tae dead tae be walkin’ again we be in a mighty load o’ trouble, ai?”, he laughed roughly. “Don’t get yerself lost in somethin’.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking, fighting off memories before they drowned her.
“I know… there’s… just something I have to try. Just this one thing more…”, Violet answered after a while. She felt the white-bearded man's gaze on her. Piercing and inquisitive.
“It be not good fer yer spellslingers tae be in tha’ state. Seen it. Makes yer kind proper mad.”, he argued, a hint of worry in his voice.
“I’m as sane as I’ve ever been.”
“See that be worryin’ lil’ ol’ me.”, he joked again, taking the bottle for another gulp. She couldn’t help but chuckle.
"He got tae death he always been wishin' fer. Protectin' what he loved. Hope yer know, yer always have a home 'ere petal.", he continued in that gruffly soft tone he so rarely displayed. "Yer always be one of us."
Violet watched the bright, burning sun slowly crawl over the horizon. "I know..."

She sat on her steed, overlooking the Freehold. The horse scraped in the dirt impatiently underneath her, pattering from left to right, eager to run. Just this one thing more… this book Nomine gave her might hold all the answers, once she was able to read the other passages… there was a way. And she would find it. Or find someone to aid with it.

Posts: 55
Joined: Fri Jul 10, 2020 3:10 pm

Voices in the Dark

#27 Post by Violet » Sat Apr 10, 2021 12:12 am

(Special thanks to Fal for the RP that lead to this and all the intel I got from him on the topic :3 )

She should not have gone to the Underbelly. It was no place for an honorable Kirin Tor. And much less for a noble flower. It was a dark, wet and dangerous place at the very best of days. But she needed someone, someone who was not afraid of the words written in tongues Violet couldn't understand. She needed to decipher those letters by someone with a less limited... mind. Someone braver. Someone with more expertise. And she found that person... or people. Along with them, she found more wisdom and enlightenment than she wanted. Much more.
She sat there in the bright afternoon light, at her desk, that cursed book in front of her, remembering the words of the woman.

"No, that's not what I asked for! I don't want a mindless slave! I do not wish to mingle with the void!", she snapped at the woman, agitated.
The Rendorei straightened up, watching Violet getting uneasy, angry even. Her smile could not be seen, but heard in her words.
"I told you, my little Kirin Tor flower, what is written on these very pages.", with a loud slam she shut the book, echoing back from the walls. "It was clear to me, that this will only lead you to the creation of mindslaves at best. Zombies even. Lifeless husks made to serve. That is the power I expected to find in there. Not your so desired cure for mortality. And I suppose you figured out, why I wish this book either destroyed or locked away. Give that knowledge to any evil-doer and you have yourself a pretty mess to clean up, my sweet, sweet Violet.", she purred.

"This... shall not give you back your lover. But maybe the light can. Oh... and do not worry. The effects of the madness you will encounter should only linger... temporarily. If not... well, I have a pretty blade with your pretty name on it my dear.", she added with a shrug, handing her the book and before she could answer... disappearing into the very darkness she grew out of.

It was only brief moments she sat there, yet the loud, deep chime of her grandfather clock tore her right out of the memory. It was seven in the evening. How could that be? Her eyes traveled down to the piece of parchment - a letter to her daughter she had begun... yet the last part was a confused mess of incantations, runes, and summoning circles. At first glance, it did not make sense... at a second however...
She knew this. She had experienced it before.
Just one spell away...
The whisper was so low, that her mind almost couldn't catch it. It sounded like a confused mass of voices that somehow made sense to her. Sounding so familiar that it might very well be her own thoughts whispering sweetly to her.
You can have... everything you want...
A sharp, familiar pain on her temples. It made her flinch.
Even your beloved pirate... all... just... one... spell... away...
Her vision became awfully blurry, she felt dizzy. And yet somehow... comforted. Cradled.
You know the incantation, just cast it... just that one... spell...
She shook her head, crumpling that piece of parchment firmly in her frail little hands and throwing it into the blazing fireplace, watching as it disintegrated.
She did not look back, she walked out. She knew this. She had experienced it before. She had withstood it. She would do so again. She was stronger than this. This was exactly what the academy had prepared her for in all those years. Magic...

She enjoyed the casual event. Even though a part of her felt a little bad for stealing the little children's chocolate - yet she knew the Horde would likely do the very same thing at this moment. It took her a few heartbeats, but as she stood at that lake her mind was quiet. No whispers, no voices. No thoughts. Blissful... nothingness. A heavy weight lifted off of her. Relief...

Violet was nervous, she fumbled with the sleeve of her elegant evening robe as she always did when she was frightened of something. A querk. She wasn't sure if she should recite the poem. But after all, it was in his honor. Falrocs idea, to write it down, to make it real and overcome it. She didn't find it working. The applause was deafening, became a monotone noise in her hurting head.
Look at them... so weak... pathetic.
She could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest, the blood rushing through her veins, just like it did in battle.
You could protect them if you were strong enough, could you not?
She gave it her all to keep that polite smile up, to incline her head and step down - no one noticed.
All the power you could ever want... just one little spell away...
It became harder to breathe, her corset almost suffocated her. It was too tight, even her robe, everything was becoming too tight. So many people, so many voices... so loud.
You want it, don't you? Take it...
The bright colors of the fireworks hurt her eyes. She felt the cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. She had to leave that place.
Just this one spell... what harm could it do?
Away from the crowd, the air was cooler, it was a little easier to breathe. Her eyes wandering up to the names of the fallen. Her ritual.
They all were weak. Weakness is a sin... you are not weak, are you?
Yes, she was. She felt the strength slowly fade from her limbs, her mind spinning, her sight slimming, a terrible ringing noise in her ears.
We can make you strong...
The spell ran through her, filling her with euphoria, a tiny taste of power. Ecstasy. Leaving her wanting for more. So. Much. More.
She teleported herself back into the sheltered harbor that was her temporal home, feeling her insides twisting and turning painfully. She felt ill, hot and cold at the same time, as her body wanted to shiver. She threw up violently.

She spent hours fighting the voices, resisting the temptation, the sweet promises, the alluring possibilities. She was close to giving in. This was different. This was lulling her on a much deeper, meaningful level. She was thirsty. Tired. She felt the cool tiles against her skin as she lay there on her bathroom floor.
Yes... do not struggle, let us help you...
She put her hands over her ears, trying to block the voices that pestered her for days now. Unsuccessfully of course.
You will feel better... just a single spell... you know the incantation...
"No...", she mumbled exhausted.
You want it... we can give him back to you...
Violet ground her teeth, her gums hurt. "No...!", she replied again. And then she remembered Nazjatar, remembered the long dark and the whispers, piercing her mind, tearing into her, devouring her soul and spitting her right back out. She pressed her forehead firmly against the floor tiles. Felt the pain it caused and the cold. She tried to calm her erratic breath. Deep, calm breaths - but she barely made it.
"Magic... is powerful...", she began to mumble to herself.
"Magic... is addicting...", she continued, focusing on the words she spoke, drowning the whispers in it.
"Magic is corrupting..."
"Magic draws in the denizens of the Nether to those who wield the arcane...", she ended, before starting from the top again, like a mantra. Over and over again, possibly a hundred times. But it was not enough. There was no anchor. So she created it.
Her friends gathered on the table for the feast... Philias cake delivery, his booming laughter at that lake... dancing and singing in Freehold ... wolfish eyes watching her... gathering Nobelgarden eggs with her friends... sitting by the fire on Draenor, sharing silly stories, making Ironfur laugh for the very first time... her daughters first screams... giggling with Eritis about something funny... speaking about steamy books to the Kaldorei... Rickards smile... dancing with Minerva around the Winter Veil tree... the feeling of the sea breeze on her skin... having a heartfelt conversation with Wilsby... hugging... a captains hat... meeting Ironfurs family... sweet words... the smell of oak and rum and gunpowder... the singing of birds... piercing eyes... lips much softer than she imagined... hoisted sails... warmth and security...

Posts: 55
Joined: Fri Jul 10, 2020 3:10 pm

Re: Diary of the white owl

#28 Post by Violet » Sun Apr 25, 2021 1:34 am

Violet stood there, anchored and ready. Staring up that hill and waiting patiently for the rest of their party to gather. She was well prepared. And she was out for blood. She may have run out of possibilities to resurrect Flint - yet - but she would make the red sorceress pay. A deed paid for in blood only. She felt stronger again, not as weak and brittle. Rage and a lust for revenge drove her ever forward. She couldn't protect him back then, but she could avenge him. Yet she regretted the path she had set foot on the moment they entered that lawn of the dead.

The slight noise in the back of her head awakened unexpectantly. Leering, searching, hungry... yet so alluring and soft.
What a fascinating energy...
It was right. It was so... powerful. It tingled on her skin just being here. Pulled in all the right places, like the gentle touch of a good lover. So warm and safe. Almost too good to ignore. Not anymore...
Her eyes fell on all the runes in the dirt. Neat handiwork that.
Look at all of them... their powers could be all yours. Just reach out... take it...
Maybe it was the chilly aura of the shadow, enveloping this cursed place, or it was the tainted mind whispering... she couldn't tell, and it continued. But she could not focus on it right now. Could not break down like the last time. She had to keep running. She had to claim that woman's life.
All too soon forgotten, when she saw the rune on the door. Everything around her became naught. Invisible. It didn't exist anymore. She was so tired from not sleeping enough. From the strain the voices put on her, the strain her own doubts put on her.
Do not worry child, we can make it better... easier... we can make it stop hurting...
She didn't realize she was moving towards it - it didn't matter to her. She wanted it.
Touch it... draw from it... feed us. It is yours for the taking. Rightfully and just...
She felt the tingle, not even touching it. The overwhelming power, so close. She just had to... take it. Give in. Draw it out. She could, she knew it. She didn't know why or how. But she was absolutely certain she could. And by the light did she want it. She would be unstoppable, it would be the easiest thing to kill the sorceress that way. Maybe even be able to raise the dead into physical form, just like she did. She could... no, no she would! It was so close, the solution. A way out. A path back. A switch to turn back time and make it all undone.
After all... why shouldn't you?
Yes... why wouldn't she. It was thanks to Loki, that she was interrupted. It hit her like a rock, what she was just about to do, where she was, where she had gone... or more suitably been drawn to. She got lost. Her anchors brittle, crumbling away. Even now, here surrounded by those she cared for it was loud. The silence gone. She stood back, watching Max, preparing to unleash the light.
NO! Stop him! He will burn us, he will burn you away, everything you are!
Yes, he would harm her. Hurt her. He was evil, and he needed to be stopped. Like all evil things. No, he was a friend, he didn't mean her any harm. He wouldn't. She didn't know him well but she knew he wouldn't. But he just did, didn't he? He tried to end her! He needed stopping!
Her heart raced, she felt so hot, and cold at the same time. The world was in a haze, like fog. She felt like she was drunk. She wanted to hurt him. And so she closed her eyes, reciting the four rules over and over silently. Grasping for an anchor. Again it was Loki, how tore her out of it. And for a moment, the world was clear.
It was clear until she saw that man.

"So we attack here, here and here. Come in from multiple sides and push them back in closed formation. I want archers all the way, the forests provide enough coverage. Cavalry circles them for the west and the east simultaneously. Mages on that hill, it has enough overview but is still covered by the steep slope, much rocks, hard to traverse from the other side. Give them a platoon of our best as protection, both melee and range. Ask Shieldstaker for her best hunters. They certainly will draw a lot of attention.", Violet ordered, moving the little wooden figures over the map to their assigned places. "And just to make that very clear.", she looked up, looking into all the eyes staring at her in anticipation. "I do want minimal casualties. On both sides. That is an order.", she added. They saluted, and slowly started to leave the captain's cabin. Leaving just her and Flint, who just stood there, his hands behind his back, looking at her with a grin.
"What?", the mage asked, her brows raised, as she walked over, taking off her coat, throwing it over the chair behind that tall desk.
"Tha' is an order.", he mimicked her. "So
He stalked after her, slowly, like a wild beast hunting it's prey.
"Thought you might be used to it by now - can't remember a day that hasn't been the case.", she teased him further with a grin, walking backward just as slow.
"Aye... and then yer have been takin' me quarters too, ey?!", she growled playfully, enlargening his steps, losing patience already. She looked up to him, tilting her head with a playful smile on her lips.
"Hmmm and rob you of all your sleep...", she let her filigree fingers draw imaginary patterns on the fabric of his shirt, slowly gracing over the exposed skin, stroking her way up his neck.
"Mhhh ... tha' I dunnae mind tha' much yer know...sleep be so overrated.", he rumbled, closing his eyes, just giving in to her touch, pulling her body close to his. Strong arms, her safe place. The most unexpected of them all. But there was no doubt that she belonged right there, right that moment, with just him. She felt light and at ease, even in the eye of that battle.
"Just tomorrow... and if we emerge victorious, if we buy the Lord Admiral enough time, along with the others, if we distract this envoy long enough it will be over. And we will be free...", she hummed with a broad smile. Somehow she had ... no doubts. She was positively certain they would win. They were one of a total of seven companies, deployed to delay or scatter the horde troops, just long enough for the main army to pass.
"Yer bein' mighty sure we be winnin'. Could still run of, yer know?", he returned - a pirate to the bone. They both just chuckled, and he, too, hummed. "Where you be wantin' me tae take yer first?", he asked, searching for her eyes.
Violet pondered. It seemed like the entire world had opened up to her since he stepped into her life. Endless possibilities, an eternity of places to visit, adventures to experience, things to see, tastes to discover.
"To the horizon...", she replied, stroking one of his many wild strands of dark hair out of his face. She was so used to it. Knew all his little creases when he thought about something really hard, the ones that formed under his eyes when he laughed. The stubble on his chin from his lack of shaving, color of his eyes. Sometimes like warm, sweet butterscotch toffees, then piercing like a hawks and other times warm and inviting like pure gold. She loved it - all of it. The light as well as the dark. It didn't matter, for she saw what he truly was, beneath all the layers and edges. She loved him. And she was ashamed about not being ashamed for it. She should have been. She knew. She promised her love to one man, one she also loved, differently. The day he put a ring on her finger. But how could one love two people at the same time? It didn't matter that Rickard was dead... she still loved him...
Flint was about to wipe all those thoughts out, he had a talent to notice when they started to overwhelm her, as he bowed his head down for a kiss. Yet just before their lips met, the door flew open.
"Lady Lemont! Urgent message!", the soldier announced, blinking a few times as he scanned the situation he just burst in so rudely. It made him blush but Violet just answered with a kind smile, bringing some distance between her and Flint.
"Let him pass.", she nodded, already seeing the figure behind. Dressed in official looking robes. Yet slightly hunched over - something was not right with his back. He also looked pale - but that was likely to be expected the night before battle.
"M'lady... I present you urgent message from the scout envoy. Shaw himself has charged me with delivering this message.", he bowed lowly, presenting her the scroll. It indeed carried the sigil of Shaws spies - unbroken.
It spoke of a small horde troop, trying to infiltrate their base camp, trying to kill the Lord Admiral, before they could even deal a blow. Falroc insisted on sending a bigger group, but she heeded Flints advice - a small troop, made from their very best. She should have seen the trap, should have questioned it. She should have given the order to return to their base, when they found Shaw's spy dead in the woods...
She remembered the moment when the world narrowed down, time stopped, the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. Ambushed, overwhelmed. How he stared at the blade just like she did so much time later. Disbelief and a mix of amusement on his face. She remembered clenching his body close to hers with all the strength she had. Remembered burning all those despicable beings around her - killing them in the most painful way, till nothing more was left but ashes. She remembered the pain in her hand afterwards - she didn't care. She just looked down at him. How the light slowly faded from his eyes. And she could do nothing. She just had to watch.

She remembered him. What he set in motion. What he did.
Quickly! He will flee!
She heeded the voice this time, she felt it, knew it naturally. He was surrounded, outnumbered and he knew what she could do to his undead. The teleportation spell was short, small, yet cost her dearly. It weakened her, but it was worth the effort. She reveled in it, as he stepped away from her. Seized the opportunity as he fell. He taunted her, making the memories replay in her mind over and over.
His fault... make him pay. It will feel good. It will make it better!
She looked down at him. She wanted to inflict pain. Wanted to give him a brief taste of what she had felt that day. Make him pay. But there was something she desired much more.
He knows more... His mind knows more. There is knowledge there. Devour him. Take his mind, take his sanity... it is yours by right.
She had no more strength ... nor will to resist the urge to step foot on the darker path anymore. She wanted this. This was right, it was just. Yet he still just provoked her, not revealing his knowledge.
He knows... he knows...! His mind!
The words repeated themselves over and over. She felt them fuel her magic, she felt that pull from before.
Yes... give in! Take it! Let us help! We will make it better, we will make it go away!
And so she reached for it. If he was not giving what she desired willingly, she would take it by force. The tingle of the Shadow was nothing like she had ever felt before. The arcane was addicting, like pure ecstasy for sure but this? This was so much more. It was incredible... amazing. She felt it drawing in from the edges, and she was willing to be taken, blinded by her rage, worn out by exhaustion, crumbling from the endless whispers from the past weeks. She would rip it out of him. Then tear his heart out, slowly, or boil his blood. He would suffer for what he did.
The sound of the Dagger being rammed into his throat immediately pulled her out of that dark spiral - and in return left her speechless, as the life seeped out of the man. Again time started to flow slower, as her eyes followed the arm connected to the blade as a very distant feeling of relief washed over her, heavily suppressed by the shadows. Nomine. He killed him. He killed her only lead. Her only chance of revenge. He took it from her... just like that. Robbed her of the opportunity to take back control. To avenge those who lost their lives. She couldn't process this. He knew how important it was to her - he had to. And yet he took it. Stole it.
The voices suddenly boomed in her mind, going hand in hand with her anger, her desperation. It was so loud, so clear.
She was angry at him so many times. Not agreeing with his ways, the things he did or how he did them. As to be expected, when two people embody two sides of the same coin. Duty and what must be done. But this time... was different. It was not just anger, it was searing hatred. And she desired his life more than anything else.
Kill...them...all... seize their will. Give in. Let. Us. In...!
The voices echoed in her head, and suddenly she understood. They are her enemies. Taking what is dear from her. She drew in the magic. Harbored it within her, forming and bending it... twisting it against it's nature. Like ink in water it darkened. She would kill him. There it was again - the sharp pain. It was not right, they weren't her enemies. They were her friends. The people she cared about.
NO! They took it, HE took it. Kill him!
She was mad with fury, and before she knew, her fist balled and it flew, refusing to let loose the magic, clinging to something far back in her mind, a memory, a voice, a feeling. Again she felt a distant hinge of relief when Morrigans hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her.

He bosses you around like you are a child. Taking what is yours, selling it as an act of chivalry. Pathetic. Treating you like his little lap dog. A plaything... how dare he? After all what are you to him? A tool. Serving a purpose. Nothing. He will throw you away, like a piece of meat.
Again rage drowned her - the words all too loud. Entangling with her fears, doubts, worries. Nudging her, beating her like the dog they accused her of being. It made her paranoid.

Morrigans words irritated her. They fueled the fire, stirred it. Even though the voices were more distant further away from the graveyard... they still spoke.
She knows... she wants to hurt you. Do not tell her. She will kill you, torture you. End her. You can defeat her, we will help you. Let us help you... give in. Let us make you strong.
She was more than willing and felt more than able to settle the score - ignoring the fact that her previous spells had taken a toll on her. It would still be enough. Why wouldn't it? She was done losing people, things, her only chance of revenge. She would lose no more. She wove the spell, not needing to speak the incantation. Fire was part of her by now. Yet this time, she halted with Nomine in between. Suddenly hesitant to hurt him. To hurt any of them. What was happening to her?

Chit was perfectly polite. She listened, spoke softly. As if Violet was a horse in rage. She didn't know if it was the woman or the necklace she had given her, that made her ease down a little. Silenced the majority of the voices. She indeed was glad, that she wasn't alone. Yet of course she would never admit. She was too proud for it. Too stubborn. And she still hated Nomine.
It was good having her there, even though she slept. Or at least she very convincingly tried to. She felt her gaze, whenever she checked on her, how she sat there, in her study. Sleep avoiding her. Her head felt like it was about to explode. She pretended to read, in reality she just stared at the parchment. She noticed the drops of blood suddenly emerging from her nose, leaving marks on the paper. But she felt too stiff to actually move. So she just sat there, the pendant's magic making her number and number. Exhaustion now replacing voices and dark thoughts. She struggled, fought against it, she didn't know why. But at last, sleep held her tightly in its claws.

Posts: 55
Joined: Fri Jul 10, 2020 3:10 pm

I: Shock and Denial

#29 Post by Violet » Wed May 05, 2021 1:39 am

It felt good to be back in Dalaran. It felt secluded. Her personal ivory tower. The talk with Morrigan and Chit wore her out even more - she didn't even know why. Because of uncomfortable facts? But was it that? Facts?
They are lying...
Her entire body ached, as the whispers started to crawl forward again. She was so exhausted. Her muscles burned, yearning for sleep. But sleep would only hold the dreams she dreaded... and feared. They had gotten worse ever since the blade struck her. And even more so since she delved too deep into oceans she should not have sailed.
They are trying to stop you. They want to keep him from you. We won't... we can help you. We can bring him back to you...
Her fingers reached for her head. The ringing noise was almost unbearable. A pained groan escaped her throat. She knew it was a bad idea. Of course, it was. She was trained to not do this exact thing. And yet... she did. To avoid. To flee. Morrigan's words came back into her mind. And so did Chit's. Letting go... letting him go for a second time. The first time almost felt like it killed her. She barely allowed herself to feel it back then. There was war. Responsibility. Fear. Guilt. She could have prevented it. He could still be around. Up on that hill, she should have rejected him. She should have turned away... like she had turned away tonight. When she realized the fear in Shien's eyes. She stared into the palm of her hand, and could almost see all the blood on it. The monster she had made herself become. The very thing she was always afraid of. That she tried to prevent. That others tried to save her from. For naught. She knew, what she was.
They are scared of you... they are after you... we are not... we are your friends... your only friends... you can trust us...
"Weeeelll actually yer can't, but yer be knoin' tha' roight?", Flint spoke, half amused. Violet's head bolted up, elevating her gaze from the desk she was leaning over, the blood in her veins froze to ice from the shock. She stared at him. There he stood. Just like the last time she saw him. Smiling, his hair a little wild, his eyes golden like the sun, his shirt untidily hanging out halfway from his pants. Her heart slowly sped up. Her fingers felt numb and her mind dizzy and dull - even without the necklace.
"That ... that can't be... you're not real...", she mumbled as if under a delusion. She could feel hot tears in her eyes, trying to make their escape but they just.. didn't. She didn't cry. For so long now.
He just chuckled and shrugged, as he made his way through the room, inspecting a thing here and there.
"'Course not. Yer haven't been sleepin' fer almost three days petal. Yer be hallucinatin'.", he replied casually. This must have been a new trick of the Shadow. A new way of getting to her, wearing her down. Her breath felt caught in her lungs.
"Nope. That's just yer imagination. Yer know, yer mind tellin' ya to fecking sleep.", the pirate spoke, shrugging, leaning nonchalantly at the table next to her. He looked so real, she could swear to feel the heat radiating from his body, drawing her in like the light would a moth. Was she... hallucinating?
She turned away rapidly, forcefully, she couldn't bear looking at him for a second longer, resist the urge to reach out, to touch him. To give in. It must have been the shadows making. She stepped away, her footing unsteady. She felt like she was drunk. She felt sick. Violet was halfway through the room when she turned around. She needed to see him again. Just one more time. But... he was gone.
It stirred an unreasonable, desperate anger in her. He was gone. And there was nothing she could do about it. She was powerless. The slow, painful realization set in. He was gone, and there was no way. No way but grief. Her two-coloured eyes glared at all the parchment, the tomes stacked on her desk. Mocking her with their stupidity. Their emptiness. Their lack of answers and possibilities. She stomped back to the table, swiping everything off in a sort of rampage, parchment flying through the air, heavy books hitting the ground and pages crumpling up. She lashed out again, for the last little page left - as if it was to blame in particular. A sharp whistle let her look up.
"Dramatic. 'Specially the enrage part. Like Roooaaaar.", he laughed amused, pulling a grimace to further enhance his point, the mischief glimmering in his eyes. He was mocking her. And she just stood there, breathing heavily, tears burning in her eyes still.
"Stop... please...", Violet begged, her voice awfully thin. Her body started to shake, she suddenly felt cold and empty.
"Technically yer be imaginin' me so... yer the one tae be makin' me exist. Cuz ya know... I'm sorta dead, kinda.", Flint replied casually, tilting his head like a curious seagull.
"Please just... leave me be. Please...", the mage continued, she had no more strength left, her resilience crumbling, her walls caving in. She was ready to just... give in, her exhaustion overwhelming her. The last little spark left inside made her move. Guided her legs out of the room, the doors flying open, gathering Falrocs attention. His eyes trailed his mistress, as she stormed from the study, through the dayroom to her bed chambers. She must have looked like she was crazy. And maybe she now finally was. She slammed the door shut behind her, putting all her weight against them to keep it that way. Her breath was frantic, her heart beating painfully fast against her chest. So this was it. That was the end. Her final descent into madness. Her legs felt like they were made out of rubber. Shaky and unstable. The strength leaving her body entirely, as it slid down slowly to the ground.
And then she felt it - the wet of tears staining her cheeks, following the lines of her scars. Her filigree hand covered her mouth - she didn't want to cry. She couldn't. Crying meant she gave up. She admitted there was nothing she could do. No saving, no going back. It would mean to accept that he was gone. She couldn't ... and yet her being was jolted by a sob. And then another. And suddenly the tears came, like a summer rain over the vast ocean. Once she had started, she found herself unable to stop. Everything just burst to the surface. She wanted to scream out the pain but she was too weak. So Violet just kept sobbing.
"'Tis good tae cry. Let it all out.", Flint said, leaning on the door next to her. He startled her so much she somehow garnered the strength to slip further away in a fit of panick - her back now firmly pressed against her dressing table, eyes wet and wide with fear. There was no escaping the Shadow...
Flint turned his threecone hat in his hands, his underarms resting on his knees, his golden eyes on her. A soft smile showing on his lips.
"Yer gotta let yerself feel it. Imma be gone sweetcheeks. An' I dun' like it any more than yer... bu' that's how things are.", he murmured in his usual soft yet gruff way, his voice deep and husky. He didn't seem hostile. He seemed alluring, certainly. A beacon of light she felt drawn to. But he didn't demand anything. He just sat there with her. Was it all just a made up image of her tired mind?
"'Course I am.", he replied as if he could hear her thoughts. Another chuckle, before he flashed his charming smile, his golden canine glistening in the pale moonlight.
"Ya remember Booty Bay?", he suddenly asked. Violets eyes narrowed as her mind began to work again. Random images popping up - but it didn't make much sense nor form a proper memory. Yet she nodded.
"Close yer eyes petal. Tell me, with yer mind.", he hummed lowly. Her breath was slowing, steadier. She felt the numbness leave her, and so did the cold. Her fingers clutched the necklace, but she did close her eyes. If that was it, she was done fighting it. She couldn't anymore.

Slowly the ship glided into the harbor. It was hot and humid, the air rich with the scent of salt, rum and fish. From an outsiders perspective the town of Booty Bay looked run down, shabby even. A place where criminals, pirates and buccaneers delved. But no army division. No proud and honest people. Yet here Violet was. She let out a low sigh, as they left the Dirty Mistress - their own ship would have been far too suspicious. Not that their attire wasn't already.
"Yer sure yer want to ride to Stormwind, M'lady?", Falroc asked in his growling voice. She could have taken a gryphon, but the temptation to be on the back of a horse, to ride, feel the wind in her hair and the wiff of freedom, it was to grand to ignore. To spend time just with her thoughts, a brief moment stolen just for herself.

"I will be fine. Don't you worry.", she replied with a smile. "And besides I need someone here to ... well...", she looked around, eyeing the crew of pirates condescendingly. "Keep an eye on things. We wouldn't want to scare off the informant.", she added with a shrug.
"I don't feel good about letting you go on your own.", the growl in the worgens voice became even more apparent.
"Good thing yer dun have tae worry 'bout tha' then, ol' dog. I'll be comin' with 'er.", Flint announced confidently. Causing Violet to raise a brow.
"Excuse me, but I dare say that I would likely be much saver on my own than in
your escort.", she shot back, just as full of herself.
"An' why's tha' sweetcheeks?", he came too close for comfort. Close enough so that she not only could feel the heat radiating from his body, but also the odor he had around him.
"Firstly because you're a filthy pirate. You are an outlaw - not really the kind of company I would seek. And secondly... ugh... you reek like a thousand shady harbor gluts.", she answered, wrinkling her nose. The truth was, that she quite liked the exotic blend of blackpowder, rum, oak, ocean and cigar smoke.
"I must admit though that you should not go alone. You need guarding M'lady. He still awaits his pardon, so he will honor the agreement. An' the fact that he's still alive... well. He's able bodied enough - even though it pains me to admit it.", the worgen intervened gruffly.
Violet stopped in her step, turning around to look at her guard. She narrowed her eyes. She knew him. He would not stop pressing the matter. And the other alternative was... well Johnathan. And not only did she not want to wait for his arrival, she also wanted to get away from that person as far as possible as fast as possible. An agitated sigh escaped her throat, making her sound much more annoyed than she had intended.
"Fine.", she huffed, rolling her eyes.

"Aight! Yer heard tae lady pupper. I'll be arranging yer some fancy lodging and yer be gettin' me somethin' rideable, an' maybe a mount, aye?", Flint announced joyfully, as he slapped Falrocs upper arm as he passed him, heading off toward what Violet thought to be the inn. She wasn't sure if the pirate just didn't hear the annoyed snarl, of if he just decided to ignore it.

"Wha' tae hell's tha'?!", Flint exclaimed in utter disbelief, while Violet looked down to him from her noble steed. "Tha' be nae horse! Tha's a fecking donkey!", he correctly noted.
"Well actually I think this is a mule, and it happens to be perfectly rideable. Since you didn't specify what exactly you had in mind. I think the word you used was mount so... there you go. But you're perfectly welcome to stay.", the mage halfmocked with a very smug grin - matching Falrocs.
"Yer heard the lady rapscallion.", the worgen added with the widest, and toothy smirk he had - clearly happy with himself.
As they made their way out of the pirate town, Violet just couldn't wipe the smile off her face.
Yet due to the choice of mount their journey was a bit slower than expected. And mostly quiet. Not that Flint didn't try to start a conversation, Violet just simply did her best not to give much to speak about. She behaved coldly, distant and very much not interested in anything he had to say - as was proper for a woman of her standing.

She could see the piarets frown, as she hid the scars on her face underneath an illusion, just before they entered town, yet he remained silent. She kind of expected him to throw a smart remark... yet was disappointed. Stormwind however seemed to almost overwhelm him. He stared around in disbelief, turned and walked backwards here and there. She knew he was impressed - merely by the lack of words coming out of him. And she was thankful for it. Silence was what she needed to think, troop movements, strategical advantages, the report she was about to give. She was so lost in thought that she didn't realize that Flint was gone from her side, before she reached the Cathedral Square. Another, very annoyed and tired sigh left her. Neither was she willing nor did she have the time to now babysit an estranged outlaw pirate in the middle of Stormwind out of all places. She couldn't see him, yet the amount of people roaming the place was quite large in itself. But even over the chatter and the general buzz of town she could hear his dark, rough voice. So... softly. She pushed through the people, close to the orphanage. That's where she found him. Kneeling before a small girl, her knee bleeding - she probably fell. She sobbed, her face red, as she wiped a tear from her cheek.
"'Tis aight. We all be fallin' sometimes. But wha' matters is, tha' we get up again after, eh?", he said, helping the little girl up, who put on a brave face and nodded, wiping away the remaining tears in full. "'ere from tha' yer gonna buy yerself a new balloon, aye?", he added, pulling out a single, golden coin from his satchel, handing it to the girl in whose face the sun seemed to go up. She giggled, yet Violet couldn't quite make out what she said, before she darted off. Suddenly she saw something different in Flint, a trait she hadn't noticed before. Compassion. It intrigued her. And just as she was about to say something...

"My, my, if it isn't the Lady Lemont. And here I thought you were off to go to war for his majesty. Again.", before she turned around she already knew who the voice belonged to.
"Duchess Stonegate.", she bowed her head low in obedience, as was proper for a woman of her standing. "A true honor to meet you here this fine day.", she added, without lifting her eyes.
The woman giggled, fanning herself against the summer heat. "Well of course it is. Light... you look terrible. So... dirty and worn down. Can the army not afford proper armor and clothing for their... campaigners?", she spoke arrogantly, looked at her with a hint of disgust. She let Violet feel where she stood. Lest she not forget it.

"But then again... probably a waste of our valuable coin. After all... you have always been the lowest of us.", the noble flashed a wide and self-righteous grin as she spat her venom. "And who might that... shabby person be? A new acquaintance of yours? Fitting."
Flint answered before Violet could - she was tempted to say she didn't know the man, she felt humiliated enough already.
"Captain Flint Rodgers, at your service madam.", he spoke perfectly polite, but he didn't bow, he looked her straight in the eye, as if challenging her. And she certainly noticed.

"Charmed... I'm sure.", the dutchess spoke, in utter disgust. She let them feel what she thought about them. As she let everyone feel.
"Yeah, well certainly, bu' if yer be excusin' us, there are people who have actual work to do. Yer know, important work, besides sitting on their arses, fanning their powdered faces, aye?", it just was too hard to pretend to be someone else, as he fell back into not only his heavy accent, but also his rough manners. He grabbed Violet by her wrist, in order to pull her with him - and the woman noticed, but the look on her face... as if she just got slapped.

Violet was in utter shock. Never had she seen anyone speak to the dutchess in that manner. And then it hit her - there would be consequences for it. She yanked her wrist out of his iron grip once they left the square toward the embassy.
"Are you daft?! You can't just say such things to a person like her. Do you not know who she is?!", she hissed under her breath, as soon as they were around the corner, giving them some minor privacy.

"Obviously she be a feckin' bitch who deserved it. Why yer be letting her treat ya like tha'?! Bowing yer head, crawling up her arse. Are ya her lapdog or what?", he shot right back, he seemed angry for some reason she couldn't understand.
"Because she is a duchess and I'm just a lady. Her rank is far above mine and I ought to treat her with the appropriate respect, it is proper!", Violet explained, now feeling anger rushing through her veins too.

Flint scoffed. "Yeah. An' just because yer be sittin' on a throne doesn't mean yer be a king, just means yer have an arse."
Violet gasped in shock. "And what would you know about that?! You're just a pirate!"
He turned around mid step, glaring at her. It all but scared her. The usual demeanor of the ever jolly jokester and charming ladies man crumbling away. She could see the fire in his eyes, and suddenly it was clear why his men respected him. He was...
"I may be a pirate, an' tha' may make me worth less than dirt tae yer, but I be knowing that jerks loike her be the reason places loike Freehold be existin'", he growled back. "I've seen yer barkin' orders an' dashin' into battle. I've seen yer treat the people. An' yer know wha'? Yer be nothing loike tha' bitch back there. But yer be pretty pathetic.", it felt like a slap in the face. Even though she didn't think much of him, his words pierced her walls and she felt the sharp pain they inflicted. And she felt... ashamed.
She blinked, several times, all the while trying to find a smart comeback. But she just huffed and marched ever forward - the only way she knew. She would not let him see that she felt his words. She would not give him that victory. And so they marched in silence - with grumpy faces.
He preferred to wait outside of the embassy, leaning nonchalantly against a lamppost, playing with one of his many daggers.
"So... yer got yer decodin' letter?", he asked, loudly and made everything in Violet cringe and sigh in utter annoyance. He was an idiot.

They got fresh horses for their way back. Which they spent mostly in silence. It would be nearly sundown till they arrived back at the bay. She still thought about Flints words. But they didn't cut any less deep. She knew he was right, but in her position she had to pay the proper respect. There was no way around it. It was how the world was. She was pulled out of her thoughts again, when she saw him holding something out from the corner of her eye. It was a... grey piece of dry mass. She frowned.
"What is that? Hardtack?", she reckoned - yet she didn't remember it having his awfully dull color.
"Nae, worse. Ship's Bisket. But yer haven't eaten anythin' since we've left.", he explained with a shrug. That was... surprisingly considerate of him.
"I don't need anything. And the very least from you.", Violet replied dryly, focussing her eyes on the road ahead.
Flint threw his head into his neck, letting out an annoyed sound as he gave his horse the spurs, galloping right in front of her and blocking her way.
"By the tides can yer stop bein' such a annoyin', proud bitch an' just take it? Feckin hell!", he sighed, looking at her. She glared at him. She was proud. Too proud to take anything but... she was also hungry.
"Please.", he pressed again, extending the little grey thing. And with a sigh she took it. It tasted horrible. Or... basically like nothing and broken dreams. It was as dry as Tanaris. But it was food. Even if it was hard as a rock. And it made her feel a little better.
"Thank you...", she replied after another mile or so.

The sun was already setting when they arrived back at the little harbor town. They were greeted by her soldiers.
"Has the messenger arrived yet?", Violet asked, as she slid gracefully from her saddle. Yet one of the two guards only shook their head.
"I fear not Lady Lemont. But the 6th has arrived and I think their commander was looking for you.", the reply let Violet cringe internally. Johnathan. It appeared Flint was able to catch her very thought.
"Good. So yer take this tae the ol' dog, an' tell 'im I show the lady the tactical particularities of the area. Roight down tha' beach there. Savvy?", he spoke casually, taking the saddlebag and handing it to one of the guards, before almost shoving Violet along. She wasn't very keen on his company but even less did she want to endure Johnathans ... presence. In fact, she actually was quite thankful for the rescue.
The beach was not far, the air still hot and humid, but there, engulfed by a pleasant breeze, it was not all that bad.
"Well... I suppose I should thank you for that rescue.", Violet began, as she walked slowly forward, till her boots hit the sand of said beach.
"Aaaahhh can't letchu be stuffed in a room with tha' greasy scallywag, ey? Yer be lookin' loike ya bit into a lemon everytime I've been seeing yer speak tae him.", he grinned widely. "Taek yer shoes off.", he added, as he halted.

"Yer heard me, taek off yer shoes. C'mon!", he chuckled, as he did so himself. "Gonna show ya somethin'."
She was confused - what was he getting at? What plan did he have? Was this a trick? She narrowed her eyes, standing there for a few heartbeats. She didn't like him very much - after all he was a pirate, an outlaw. Standing opposed to her own oath and beliefs. A person like him could not be a good man. Then she remembered the child. Or could he...? Hesitantly she slipped out of her heavy combat boots and the thick whoolen socks - probably not the best choice for this weather anyways. Her bare feet touching the sand.

"Now feel the sand between yer toes.", he said, burying his toes into it, a charming smile on his lips. She just... did as well. The low giggle that escaped her was a shock.
"A-ha! So yer can laugh!", he exclaimed victoriously. She gasped slightly
"Well of course I can. When something is reasonably amusing.", Violet stepped a little closer to the crashing waves. She had never done that - walking barefoot on a beach. The feeling was alien yet... somehow comforting.
"Reasonably amusin'? Tha feck's tha' supposed tae mean? Somethin's either funny or i' ain't. But fer the record: I loike ya much be'er when yer laughin'. Suits ya. Makes yer seem less loike those noble landlubbers."
She had to bite her bottom lip to suppress her smile. He was quite charming, there was no denying that. He could be kind. But he was also rude, rough, lewd, and an idiot.
"Well thank you very much, but I happen to be one of those... people.", she answered, briefly daring to step into the pleasantly cold water, just so that the waves covered her feet, lifting her robes a bit in the process.
"Nae, yer be nothin' loike them.", the pirate rolled up is fabric trousers, just up to his knees, daringly stepping further into the ocean, wiggling his brows.
"And what makes you say that?"
He just stood there, the sun in his face, the ocean underneath him, taking deep breath.
"Well... firstly yer be fightin' this stupid war, but yer be helpin' people, goin' outta yer way for it. Yer dun talk loike 'em, dun move loike 'em. Yer a good person. Yer fierce an' honest - somethin' yer should stop bein' by the way, leads yer to trouble. Yer try tae even save yer enemy. Yer not makin' a show outta it. If yer have to, yer end 'em fast. That's also mercy lass. An' yer sure saved me ass.", he shrugged, turning around to her. She couldn't place the way he looked at her. She felt flattered by his words, even though she disagreed in most of his points.
"Well I needed you, you know the smugglers routes.", Violet shot back with a shrug.
"Naaaaah, there been a hundred other pirates in the Freehold jus' as eager fer tha' pardon. Yer felt sorry fer me. Aye I saw yer there in tha' crowd. Hard not to with tha' hair.", his answer was so nonchalantly, yet based on a little speck of truth, that it made her blush. Quickly she turned her head away - she felt caught.

"Ugh...", she started, rolling her eyes. "Well I married into nobility, but you chose to be a pirate. What's your excuse then?"
The amusement in his golden eyes was unmissable when she so obviously switched the topic. He felt incredibly smug and she could tell. He didn't even try to hide it.

"Well... guess I jus' loike tae be free."
"Be free? How can you be free when the entire navy is after you? How can you be free when you always have to fear to get caught and be hanged?", she wanted to know - and this time it was honest curiosity. She could not understand his point.
Yet he just shrugged again and laughed - as if this all was just a silly game for him. "Are you ever taking anything seriously?"
"Oh aye. But yer see... I dun have tae follow any rules. I dun have to let people talk down tae me. I can be 'ere today and wheree'er tomorrow. Nothin's bindin' me. No rules. No nothin'. Sure, I had me dance with Jack Ketch, but I still be 'ere. Jus' makes it more interestin'.", he looked down into the waves, as if looking for something. His answer was stupid, reckless, and yet... it made total sense.

"Alright. But why be eager for that pardon then, if you don't care anyways?", she stared at him now, wanting to take in every move in his face, she felt like she just caught him in a lie now.
"Because I can go where'er I loike. Except fer Boralus. An' yer know, they got the best whores tae spend the pretty coin yer be payin' me on.", he said so bluntly, that it took her totally aback. He bowed down, picking up something, yet as his eyes met her face again he just started to laugh. She must have looked totally dumbfounded. His laugh was booming, rough, deep and carried a lot of soul. It was infecting, spreading like wildfire and she just couldn't resist the urge to join. It was all far too...
dumb. And certainly she would have replied something smart but a tall wave crashed into the pair of them, sweeping them off their feet and into the surf, drenching them to the bone. It made her laugh even more.
Violet didn't know why - it just ... felt good to laugh. She felt all the tenseness leave her. She felt so much lighter.
He was the first on his feet, extending her hand to her - but another wave just pushed them back again. From afar they must have looked like they lost their minds.
Her hair was dripping, clinging to her wet face. Yet he looked at her with something that... resembled admiration, as he finally got her back on her feet, still giggling.
Flint took her filigree little hand into his caloused one. His touch surprisingly gentle, as he placed a delicate seashell into it. The colour a mix of bright pink and purple - it was quite beautiful and let her smile fade slowly. The gesture touched her.
"So yer always have a part of the sea with yer, eh?", he explained with a shrug. Just as she was about to say something, Falroc cleared his throat. It made her jump back, yanking her hand away as if the pirates touch burned her.
"The messenger has arrived, M'lady.", he bowed his head slightly, pretending he didn't see what happened. Her heart was suddenly beating much faster.

"Uh... erm... Yes of course!", she shook her head and raised her hand to place the illusion back over her face - yet was stopped by a surprisingly firm grip around her wrist. Flint. The sudden touch, the connection of their skin felt like he had electrocuted her.
"Don' do tha'...", he began, his voice husky and low. "Yer prettier tha' way. Let 'em see yer know how tae survive."
The spell died at an instant, as she stared into his eyes.
She rushed off that beach in a hurry, eager to get distance between herself and Flint, wrapping her fingers tightly around that shell. Her breath faster, blood rushing in her ears.
The pirate looked at the worgen, who threw him a threatening glare.
"Oh c'mon big guy! I know yer loike me!", Flint said with a grin.
"No.", was the dry reply.
"Aaaah but yer happy I made 'er laugh, ey?! Dun' hide it!"
"... I wish yer would choke to death..."

Violet didn't notice that she drifted off to sleep. She didn't feel the soft and careful claws that lifted her limp body from the ground and placed her in her bed, as she still clutched the necklace in her hand. She didn't notice the comfortable heaviness of her blanket, nor it's gentle warmth. But that night she slept. No dreams, just memories, distant echoes of happier times. No voices, just rest. Rest, she desperately needed.

Posts: 55
Joined: Fri Jul 10, 2020 3:10 pm

II: Pain and guilt

#30 Post by Violet » Sun May 09, 2021 12:57 am

Violet thought her heart stopped when she heard the words. Eritis, attacked, poisoned and wounded. The fear creeping up her back like a snake trying to suffocate her. Her fingers getting cold, her mind spinning. She rushed there. Yet the words hit her like a cannonball in the face. The reason for all this... her? Again?
It's your fault... you put them in danger...
The whispers grew ever louder during the days, only the nights brought some solace, thanks to the necklace. Being able to sleep at least a little was a great aid in fighting them off.
They will die... because of you... abandon them... chose us...
She looked at both the Pandaren and the Kaldorei. How they both so willingly offered their aid and protection. She was touched, but more than anything she was worried. Worried for their lives. None of them should be in this situation in the first place. None of Starlight. Not because of her. None should have died in her stead but here she still was...
We can help you protect them... let us in...
She wanted to protect them. More than anything. The recent weeks had been challenging to say the least. For so long she knew nothing but war, fighting and bloodshed. She was good at it. But she realized more and more how much she had lost touch with the world, the life outside of that. The tea helped a little in collecting her thoughts, sorting them. But nothing would aid in fending the voices off.
You're a monster... they know... don't hesitate... give in... make use of our power... avenge... them...
Eritis could have died. Because of her. Because he chose to be her friend. She pondered if it was not the wiser, kinder thing to just... leave. Get as far away from Starlight as possible. To protect them from whom- or whatever was hunting her so relentlessly.
Yes... abandon them... turn to us... we can help you...
It was then, when Shien had left, and she sat there in that little park with all her thoughts crashing down on her like an avalanche that she noticed the big owl.
"You know, I'm pretty sure eavesdropping is considered unpolite even in Kaldorei society.", she spoke, raising a brow.
The bird watched her for a few more moments, twitching its head slightly, before it ascended, landing before her feet. It took only a blink for feathers to form into scared flesh.
"All I do is guard.", the tall Kaldorei replied dryly.
Violet just stared at her - she didn't like it, not one bit. She had done this before.
"And how long have you been guarding?", she asked, her voice sounding more hostile than she intended to.
"Long enough. Follow.", the Nightelf replied, just as monotonous, leading the way. She didn't adapt her steps for the mage, so she actually had to hurry. She hated it, when she did that. But she also knew there likely was no place saver for her than in Lishandriels company. And so she merely followed, silently, through town and out the city gates into the forest. Where were they going?
"Keep up.", the Archdruid demanded - easy for her to say with her long, graceful strides, notably absent from any skirt hindering her. She moved so elegantly, as if the forest itself would make way for her or if she in fact was part of it herself.
"Well I'm trying. Not that easy.", Violet fumbled a branch from the hem of her robe, sighing in frustration. "Where are we going anyway? Are you going to tell me or will you just take me on a silent walk? I mean the silent treatment was your favorite recently, no? Just so you know the Lord Protector told me about the ring.", she added, slightly angry. She remembered her patronizing behavior. How she denied her knowledge she deserved to have.
The druid stopped in her tracks, as she was just about to brush a branch out of her way. Her one eyes gaze wandered over her shoulder. She took the womans sight in. Her face didn't give away what she thought - a stoic mask, perfected over millennia. Finally, she snarled lowly.
"That man has an issue with doing what he is told.", she rumbled.
"What he did was right, I deserved to know."
"And what has that knowledge brought you but pain? Suffering? Madness?", she spat the last word out, stepping right in front of Violet, and trying to impose her with her sheer size. The mage knew her too well, it didn't work anymore.
"Truth. And maybe that is not worth much to you, but it is very much to me!", again the mage could feel her anger boiling up slowly. The Archdruid eyed her again, narrowing her golden gaze, before turning around abruptly once more, striding ever forward.
"And what exactly did that truth give you? What have you made of it? You tried to bring him back, haven't you? You have been so obsessed that you delved into the shadow, I can feel the forest bowing away from your very being. Delving into forbidden knowledge! Like I feared!", the Kaldorei snarled. "You should have been told at the right moment, at the right time!"
"And what would have been the right moment or time to tell me that my lover's soul was trapped in a ring?! That he was stabbed with that netherdamned blade because someone is after ME!", Violet hissed at her. The knowledge was dangerous, painful, it almost broke her apart... but she was grateful for it. For the honesty... and the bluntness.
Lishandriel glared at her again, for a long while, but she held her gaze. Returned it without dropping it for a heartbeat. And finally, the ancient Kaldorei let out a defeated sigh. She knew the error of her ways. And Violet knew she was trying to guard her.
"I know... you tried to protect me. Lately, everyone is trying to protect me from something. But... that pain would have always been the same. You can't take the weight of his loss from my shoulders. Nor the guilt. And you can't take the worry from me. The reason for this is me. I am to blame. And I know that... that's why I'm trying to... to bring him back.", Violet admitted in a low voice.
The Archdruid took a few more steps, until they reached a clearing, it appeared as if a fire had burnt down part of the forest... and a little hut.
"The only person to be blamed for what happened is the person wielding the blade. You cannot control the world around you, and you cannot make the dead walk again. There is a time for everything. A time for living, and a time for dying. You cannot force life to obey you. There must be balance in all things.", she calmly explained, as she stepped into the dimly lit, charred glade. Hesitantly Violet followed.
"His time had not come.", she argued.
"He died, so it did.", was the only answer she got for a while. "What do you see?"
She was taken aback by the question. Was it a trick question? A test?
"Burnt... trees?", she asked.
"Yes, but what do you see?"
A frustrated noise came out of the Kaldorei, as she beckoned her to follow to a fallen, burnt tree.
"Look closer.", she spoke further, brushing the ashes away carefully. Underneath there was new grass sprouting, a little sapling that took advantage of the shade being gone. But Violet didn't quite understand - being evident in her puzzled look.
"Where there is life, there is death and the other way around. Life needs death. To even the scale. We are born, we live, we die and make way for new things in the process. Dying is essential to being alive.", the druid explained, now ever calm, ever the Shan'do.
"I'm pretty sure that is very easily said for an eternal being, who's... what? Ten...? Fifteen thousand years old? Do you even count anymore?", Violet answered after a few moments.
"I assure you I am very mortal, just like you. And I feel death's pull just like you do. Like any living thing does. Losing immortality was a humbling and necessary lesson."
"Humbling? Well pardon me, I think I missed that detail about you.", she meant the words, but they sounded jokingly. And it actually made the Nightelf raise the corner of her mouth - even if just for a second.
"You see, all this has been burnt, charred. Nothing was left. And yet still these little saplings rise from the ashes of the past. Taking tragedy as an opportunity.", Lishandriel straightened out again, even for her kind her size was impressive. But given her calling it made the utmost sense.
"I'm really not in the mood for your riddles lately. What exactly are you trying to tell me?", Violet was too tired, her mind too slow and nagged at by the whispers.
"I propose, you do the same."

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