'R63'd: Welcome to the other side'
Thrian woke up and immediately knew something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it exactly, but something just felt....off.
Rolling out of bed, he started towards the bathroom and on the way passed a mirror hanging on the wall. That was when he figured out what was wrong.
He was a girl.
Without really meaning to, he (she?) screamed and scrambled backwards, the very girly and high-pitched sound only serving to freak him, who was now a her, out more. Sitting on the floor now, dangerously close to hyperventilating, he heard a thump and then a knock on the door before said door opened.
In came a pale elf, whose blue eyes were darting around anxiously. "Spider?" Nalsia asked, then paused. "Uh......since when do I sound kinda like Batman?"
Thrian shook his...her...head. "Not a spider, not this time anyway," the human then realized just how light her tone was as opposed to its usual. "Dear light this is disorienting."
Nalsia looked at her, then marched over to the wall mirror, took a good long look at herself, which was now a himself, and gave her/his diagnosis: "Well.....fuck."
The elf continued mumbling to himself, ears twitching erratically, until another high-pitched scream sounded off right across the hall. Thrian looked over at Nalsia, and they both ran for the door. Across the hall, in Roan's room, a Blood Elven woman sat on the floor, staring at the wall and hyperventilating
'Gamers can be very dangerous
*Ka-poppoppop*
"Hahahaha!"
"How do you do that?!"
*Click*
*BOOM*
"You're a dumbass."
".......I hate you."
Nalsia's head tipped back as she laughed, her unbound hair falling to the floor as she did. I tried very hard not to stare, to my credit. I was too busy being virtually killed, over and over again. It should've aggravated me, but really, I was too busy focusing on not staring at the dragon tattoo coiling around her one arm.
Yeah, I had it bad for her. Though why I was wasting my time wishing on stars after the most out of my league woman I had ever met was beyond me. Though she evidently found my character's headless forward slump extremely amusing, as she didn't react when I told her just what I thought of her camping my respawn point.
No, Nalsia just kept laughing at my expense.
Finally the match ended: the score was 35-0. I sucked.
Finally, after she'd finished laughing, she turned off the Xbox and sat back. "What?"
In an odd sort of answer, she leaned closer.
I could tell as soon as I leaned forward that he was already getting a little stiff. I traced the curve of his jaw with one of my fingers and his breath hitched, coming in erratic little gasps as his eyes widened. Apparently I'd also stolen his voice, as Thrian gave me a look that was half 'Wtf?' and half 'Don't stop'.
I smirked and shifted forward even farther, tilting his head up slightly as I was taller, before kissing him.
It took me a full three seconds to notice I'd accidentally started to add tongue, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, his wrestled with my own as I glared at the back of his eyelids. How was a seductive look supposed to work if he wasn't watching? Ugh, and men say women are hard to understand.
Eventually I had to let him breathe, so I pulled back slightly and broke our little bond. His eyes fluttered open–kinda funny, watching a guy's eyelashes flutter like that–and stared at me with an intensity never before witnessed by my eyes. Despite the fact that I'd most likely damn near asphyxiated him, his breaths were measured and slow.
Rolling my eyes, I neatly flipped him under me on the couch, my knees on either side of his hips and my eyes locked with his.
"W-what are you doing?" Thrian managed, his tone flustered even in light of the pure animalistic look he was shooting me.
"Shhh," I murmured back, leaning down to kiss up the side of his neck, or at least what his shirt didn't cover, causing him to gasp again, "Just let it happen if you want it."
He apparently did want it, because a few seconds later I was the one gasping as his teeth attacked my neck, in a very artistic pattern I might add, accompanied by licks and every so often he'd stop to suck on a certain spot for a few seconds.......it was amazing.
Eventually I regained enough control of my faculties to slip a hand down to the hem of his shirt, forcing it to vacate soon after.
Damn, he was pretty ripped. Not body builder style, but in that hard-edged range that made him hot even with how shy he was, a few softer lines here and there.
His own hands shot up to the bottom of my shirt, my lips locking with his again.
Briefly, I wondered how he'd react to my tattoos. But.....he really knew how to work those teeth....
I slowly tugged the bottom edge of her shirt higher, and she nodded once she broke off the kiss.
Now okay with what I was about to do, I pulled her shirt up and over her head and flung it to the side, leaving the upper portion of her chest wrapped in bandages. I blinked and regarded them for a few seconds, but still couldn't seem to find the endpoint from which they could, theoretically, be unravelled, appearing to be all one bandage.
Nalsia took on a bemused expression, taking my right hand in her left and sliding it up her spine to where I could just feel the end of the bandage roll tucked under itself. I'd noticed some black marks on her side before, but now I was really in awe.
A dragon coiled up her left arm, from her elbow to her shoulder, but it wasn't alone. Another larger dragon took up the space across from it on her right side, its wings flared to hug her stomach and back. The thing's tail just barely disappeared under the upper edge of her leggings, which reminded me what I'd been doing in the first place.
I shook my head slightly and pulled the bandage end out from underneath itself, unwinding it from around her chest slowly. I stripped the bandages off her and tossed them aside, staring into her eyes for a few seconds.
It was said that you could tell how many things a Death Knight had killed by how bright their eyes were, or how many shades of blue they contained. I'd never really done it before, but I tried it then. Her eyes were rather bright, and had two shades of blue. Interesting.
She leaned down close to me. "I've killed a lot more things than my eyes reflect," she murmured, directly in my ear as usual, and my ears turned red. Nalsia also knew exactly what I'd been thinking, as usual. Oh well, time to test my theory....
With a heave, I was out from under her and on the floor. My movements also dislodged her, and she rolled a few inches before I trapped her body under mine this time. I gave her exactly a five-count to recover, then dipped my head down and started nibbling on her collarbone.
She gasped and closed her eyes, biting her lip as well if the muffled "Oh,"s were any indication, squirming under me. I bit and licked my way over to her shoulder, where I started tracing the lines on her tattoo with my tongue and teeth.
Just to clear this up, I had no idea what I was doing, but quite frankly if Nalsia Icerunner, of all people, wanted to be my first then who was I to complain?
I could feel Thrian's tongue sliding over the tattoo on my side, which was lot hotter than it sounded. I gave a slight breathy moan as he returned to my collarbone, stopping there for another few seconds before nibbling up my neck and kissing me.
While this was absolutely nothing like the side of him I knew, I really couldn't bring myself to care, as I liked this side of him better at the moment.
His fingers hooked on the waistline of my leggings and tugged down, shooting me a look to gauge my reaction, and I nodded. With a strong and final pull, my pants were three feet behind him and along with them had gone my underwear. That guy had skills.
Thrian sat back for a few seconds and looked me over. I swallowed nervously.
"It's the scars, isn't it?" to my surprise, in my attempt to keep the panic out of my voice, the tone had become sad and almost resigned. In an answer, he shook his head emphatically. "What? No!"
He trailed his index finger down an old, old scar on my chest, that ran from my third-to-top rib to my waist, and I shivered at the touch. "Your scars make you who you are, right? Well, if I lo–like you, then I guess I like the scars as well." He shot me a sheepish smile, as if praying I hadn't heard his little slipup.
I decided to let it be, and smiled in relief.
'Someone had to say it'
Thrian was bashing his head against the wall, but only very lightly. "So smooth, self. You're a real player."
Roan glanced up from his morning paper, the steam from his coffee wafting into the air. "Look bro, either she hasn't noticed or she's ignoring you so you can avoid making an idiot out of yourself. Probably the second one, since the day she stops noticing things is the day she permanently dies."
"Oh great," the human groaned back, hitting his head into a wall a few more times, "So she does know. Perfect. Just freaking perfect."
"I said probably," the Blood Elf reasoned. "Just calm the fuck down."
A burning brown gaze turned his way. "You calm the fuck down!"
After the words left his mouth, the paladin's face drained of color. Roan stayed silent.
"....Roan?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm just gonna....gonna shut up now..."
"Okay."
Nalsia's eyes snapped open from where she'd been dozing off as a knock came at the door of her study. "Yes?"
Roan popped into the room, quickly closing the door behind himself. "Hey Nals. Need to talk to you about something important."
"Oh really?" The High Elf asked, leaning forward in her chair and lacing her fingers together. "How important?"
"Like really impportant," the warlock said seriously, extending an arm for his imp to scamper down and off of. "Lucifer, set anything on fire and back to the void you go." The small demon saluted, cackled, and ran off.
Roan took a seat on the other side of her desk, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward. A serious expression–very rare, considering who it was on–graced his pale features, and his fiery orange hair spiked in the absence of his hood. "It's about Thrian."
The instant change in demeanor for the woman sitting across from him was extremely noticeable. The amiable look faded, to be replaced by a coming storm sort of attitude. In fact, he was pretty sure he could see the clouds gathering in her eyes. "Go on."
"I'm going to be blunt about this, so brace yourself," the warlock started, only to be met with a deadpan look. He sighed. "Fine, fine, I get it. Thrian's got a real hard-on for you, you know that?"
The High Elf blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then slowly blinked three times.
"Could you repeat that?"
Roan facepalmed. "Look, he's so lovestruck over you he started skewing his morning rituals. He's getting up at five in the morning and spends every spare moment staring at walls or out windows."
"So? How do you know that means he's lovestruck? And especially over me?" Her incredulous tone was matched with an expert-level 'are you serious?' expression.
This time it was Roan's turn to give her a deadpan look. "You got that out of Mana Up and Face the Facts, didn't you?"
"....maybe. Where'd you get your crash course–emphasis on crash by the way–on telling somebody that your best friend is after them?"
"....well fuck. Touché. At any rate, just go talk to him, will you? If you can, try to back him into a corner–metaphorically would work, but literally would be best. He's a romantic type of guy. As far as I can guess, the only reason he'd wanna bang you is because he's so incredibly in love with you–"
"Get the fuck out. And summon Jezebeth before you do, she owes me ten silver and I need to talk to her anyway." Rolling his acid green eyes, the warlock complied, the dark energies culminating above him and forming a portal to the void, out of which stepped a Succubi Magistrix.
Otherwise known as Princess Jezebeth to the Succubi, Jeze was a shapely red demon woman with horns, an almost elven physique, slightly pointed ears, and an impressive set of scarlet bat wings. "Heya."
"First, pay up. Second, advice. I need it."
Grumbling, the demon dug into her pockets and procured ten silver. "Now what's this about advice?"
Thrian was lounging on the couch in his room, watching a romantic comedy on the MORMRIS and trying to summon the willpower to go get anything productive done. Then a knock came at the door, distinct yet soft.
Hoping whoever it was would go away, he hunkered further down into the cushion he was sitting on and tried to ignore it.
The knock came again.
And again.
And again.
And then....
It came again.
He groaned and rose from the couch, rubbing his face with his hands, and trudged over to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open. "Whaddaya wa-"
Shouldered aside, he was abruptly cut off by the visitor. Who then headed for the living room and stared at the MORMRIS. "Is this...is this a romantic comedy?"
Closing the door slowly, he replied in a slightly bewildered–and yet still gloomy and partially irritated–manner. "Yeah. What of it?"
"Did I say anything?" His visitor replied in a slightly irked tone.
He was really itching for a fight. "Well technically, you just did," Thrian snapped back aggressively.
His visitor rounded on him with a flash of her blue eyes. "Oh hell no. No fucking goddamned way." Then she grabbed him by the arm and hauled him towards a door.
If the human hadn't been struggling to land a hit on her with his non-incapacitated in a death grip arm, he would've noticed that his visitor was, in fact, his crush and that the door she was dragging him towards led to his bedroom. But he had been, and so wasn't really paying attention to where they were going.
Thrian just wanted to hit something.
Hard.
And he got in a lucky hit–right upside the head with a nice pop that sent her reeling. The woman rounded on him with a look of blazing fury, and he just then realized who he'd hit. His rage miraculously transformed into terror in a record-setting time of under a minute.
"You did not just do that," she hissed, grabbing him by the shoulders and throwing him into his bed. "You. Did. Not. Just. Do. That."
That was when he realized three things.
A) Nalsia was in normal clothing–not plated–and it clung to her figure like no tomorrow.
B) In his own lack of mind, he was also, er, lacking a shirt.
C) Her eyes held anger, yes. Buut less that and more an expression that made him extremely warm and extremely afraid at the same time.
And as a bonus he noticed D), she was practically laying on top of him. If holding down his forearms with her own hands while straddling him didn't count, he didn't know what would.
She leaned in close and growled directly into his ear, nearly causing him to shiver: "You're not being moody while I'm around. Now if I let you go, and answer me honestly on this one for the love of all things holy, what are you going to do?"
Thrian didn't answer immediately. He took stock of the situation first. Crush on top of him, holding him down on a bed. Crush looking slightly on the lusty side. Crush definitely looking hot. And then, he took stock of the factors involved. Nowhere else to be all afternoon and no one dropping by on planned visits.
Honestly? "Probably turn this little, ah, 'arrangement' around on you." He tried for a winning smile but only got an evil grin in return. "Oh really?" she purred, "Because I have other plans."
"What other plans?" He managed.
The death knight's grin widened and she leaned down really close, so close she was less than an inch from his face. "Like, other plans involving me, you, this bed, and a certain lack of, ah, clothes."
Thrian's mouth went dry. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," she murmured, her lips brushing his as she spoke. "I said I'm going to fuck you."
Well that definitely cleared things up. "Can't I fuck you instead?"
A rare moment of non-tongue-tiedness, and that was what he got?
The smile she gave him was worth it though. "You can do whatever you want to me, but I think these're going to get in the way, yeah?"
Indicating their clothes, she sat back and watched his reactions. A few seconds later, he pounced on her, flattening her to the sheets and
sticking his lips right above her neck, hovering until the first kiss, and then the first bite, then the first lick. All the while her neck was helpless to his tongue, his hands spidered through the tie on her belt, the lacing on her shirt, and the button on her leggings.
Under him, she gasped and writhed and he even heard a few 'Mm!'s and 'Oh,'s thrown in there, moving his ministrations up her neck until he planted a soft kiss on the edge of her jaw.
Her gaze met his own evenly, despite the many layers of composure he'd just seen broken firsthand. Then again, he'd been the one doing the breaking, so....
She lunged upwards, wrapping her arms around him and pulling the human into a hot kiss.
Nalsia gasped into the embrace as his hand slipped in between her legs, a bold move for the usually timid man. "Oh, mm," she managed as he took a breath, causing him to smirk. "Feel good?"
"Bastard," she panted back. Then her back arched with an "Ah!" as he slipped two fingers into her.
"Bastard, eh?" he replied leisurely, watching her squirm and gasp.
"Y-yes, yes you are!" she shot back, slightly red in the face.
"Oh, you bitch.
The lack of light was the first thing Nalsia noticed upon her first few minutes back into the waking world. The second was the person holding her and how he was still asleep. The third–
Holy fucking shit it's barely morning! I....we...slept all through the afternoon and through the night too? Fuckfuckfuck!
–well, the third was not appropriate for children. But alas, it was true. A quick glance at the clock provided her with confirmation–it read 3:12 AM.
That was before an almost comically warm finger trailed up her spine, causing her to shiver before a pair of arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. Something, or rather somebody, uttered a casual "Good morning" and began nibbling on her ear.
"Are you serious?" she asked, causing a "Hmm?" from the other end of the conversation. "You're an awkward prude, and then suddenly the morning after you're going all smooth operator on me. The fuck?"
The warmth never faded from her ear, even though he was speaking. "You complaining?"
"Just curious, professor," the elf snarked, only to bite her lip when his other hand slid down her side. "What was that?"
"Nothing!" she managed, shaking her head so her ear slipped out of his mouth. Growling in frustration, he tightened his grip on here and reclaimed the sensitive ear, gently scraping his teeth along the edge and muttering "Now hold still!"
Nalsia got a stubborn look to her and began twisting in Thrian's arms. "Nope," she muttered, attempting to loosen the death grip, "Nope," and then finally as she fell off the side of the bed, "Nope!"
An indignant "Hey!" from a foot above her current position alerted her to the incoming danger, and with a quick grab at her leggings and tank top, she ran out into the adjoining living room and quickly hopped into the leggings, buckling her belt and lifting her arms to pull her tank top over her head.
But something caught her hands, immobilizing them above her head, and pushed her into the wall, yanking the troublesome shirt down and away from her face so he could kiss her. After he let her go to regain his lost breath, she saw why it'd taken him so long to catch her: he too was half dressed. Pants, and that was about it.
"Wow," he said after a moment, "I didn't know you worked out." And then, just to prove his point, he poked her in the abs.
She shrugged. "Have to do something to pass the time in the morning. And besides, you think carrying all that gear around is easy? 'Cause it isn't."
"I never said it was," he countered, ducking into the kitchen. A few minutes later she heard rustling, and a few minutes after that he popped back into the room right next to her, holding a tray of cupcakes. "Happy birthday."
She stopped for a moment, held up one finger, and then counted to herself. "Yep. Two hundred eighty. I'm surprised you remembered."
Thrian stared at her for a minute. "One, you told me. Two, it's your birthday, for light's sake!"
She shrugged. "So? It's just another year I've gone without becoming public enemy number one."
The human rolled his eyes and put an arm around her dragging her over to the couch. "Just eat a cupcake and shut up about the public enemy bullshit."
Accepting the blue-frosted one he handed her, she nodded approvingly. "You, sir. You have learned how to speak the fuck up."
Finishing the bite he'd taken out of his own, the red frosting deliciously sugary, he replied indifferently, "So? Who the hell cares?" And then licked a gob of icing off his cupcake.
At that moment, Nalsia kissed him, her tongue stealing some of his sugar. Not that he was complaining, what with the methods she'd used to obtain it. "You know, there's another sitting right there next to you, right?"
She grinned at him. "Yeah, but stealing yours is much more fun."
......Once again: not complaining, he was. "Suit yourself." He licked off some more of the frosting.
She stole it again, letting it melt in her own mouth while she dragged out the kiss.
As soon as she'd leaned back onto her couch cushion, Thrian licked his lips. "Damnit."
Nalsia batted her eyelashes innocently at him with a matching smile. "What?"
"Am I going to get any frosting at all?" She stopped to think for a moment, gaining an adorable thinking face. "Hmm...nope."
Then she smiled at him.
Calmly, he set the half-finished breakfast (dessert, actually, but meh) down on the table. Then he pounced across the couch, pinning Nalsia down under him and kissing her with as much fire as possible. "What was that for?" she asked jokingly after he'd let up to get air.
"Stop looking so damn cute all the time and it wouldn't happen so often," he shot back, picking up his cupcake again.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched her eyeball her second one...then nab it with all the precision and grace of a panther grabbing a mouse for a snack. Slowly, she licked some frosting off the top.
"Mmm," she moaned in an almost comical fashion. Then, as an afterthought: "Damnit! Sugar, my one weakness!"
"Note to self," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear, "Get more cake. Extra icing."
She laughed, then went to lick off more of the frosting.
Only to find that Thrian was more than happy to steal her frosting in revenge for his own. He licked some stray blue sugary goodness off her lip, then sighed happily and leaned back. "Frosting."
"'Nuff said," she agreed, licking her cupcake again. But this time it was a trick–the human's tongue met nothing but her own in its quest to steal sugar.
"You tricky bitch," he said in disbelief after leaning back. "There was no frosting."
Nalsia laughed again, then tore into the remainder of the chocolate cupcake. "Messy kills," she sang after she'd swallowed, "Messy kills!"
"Speaking of messy," Thrian piped in, leaning back towards her, "You seem to have a bit of an issue with that right now."
Her one eyebrow raised. "And you want me to do what about it?"
A grin answered. "Hold still."
By following orders and doing as told, she got kissed agin, but this time no chocolate crumb was left behind. Not a single one escaped his tongue. Which he looked very satisfied about when he leaned back. "There," the grin still hadn't gone away, "All clean."
"The day I believe that is the day I die permanently," she grumbled good-naturedly, attacking herself with a napkin.
Thrian only laughed. Then a sobering thought hit him.
"Thrian?" Nalsia watched his face fall and kicked herself. What'd she done?
"What are we going to tell the others?" The question brought her pause. Then, her unflinching answer: "The truth."
At his 'WHAT?!?!' look, she amended it to: "Unless you don't want to tell them yet, then yeah sure. I'll figure something out."
"What do you mean, 'tell them'? As in, like we're together?"
She froze and looked at him with panic written in her eyes.
A thoughtful smile crossed Thrian's face. "I'd like that."
Nalsia sighed in relier, then hugged him tightly. "Is it too early to say I love you?"
"Never," he objected vehemently. "Love you. Now....we should probably try to get something productive done today."
"Oh, and where in hell's half acre have you two been?" Laeini snapped as she stormed away from Zephros, who slammed the door behind himself.
"Trouble in paradise?" Nalsia commented, unflinchingly meeting the Angeli's glare. Which softened seconds later. "Nah. Just a small argument–amazing rough make up later."
Thrian flushed lightly as the two women laughed. If there was ever a mental image he didn't need about his healer, it was that one.
"But seriously," Ini was back on topic now, "Where were you two?"
"I took him to see Glowing Grotto." Thankfully, Nalsia already had a quick lie ready for their convenience. It almost scared him how easily she pulled it off. "He tried to get killed, as usual, so we were barely there five minutes."
"Hey!" he complained, "I'm not that useless!"
The High Elf shrugged, and the Angeli laughed. "Men," she said finally, "What're you gonna do?"
'Remember'
A gentle kiss on the nose woke Nalsia. A gentle smile and a quiet "Morning, love," accompanied it, so she smiled as well and kissed him back. "Thrian, what's up."
The human blinked innocently, fully playing up how much his eyes looked like a teddy bear's. "What? I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
"You've only ever woken me up like that twice-" she paused, remembering said occaisions with a faint smile, "-and I'm pretty sure I'm not missing either of our birthdays today."
Thrian shook his head at her in mock disappointment. "Come on, something to kickstart your memory."
Tugging her up and out of bed, and into the kitchen, she saw what he meant. On the counter sat half a dozen cupcakes, but two in particular stood out from the rest in her eyes.
A vanilla one with bright crimson frosting, and a dark chocolate one with electric cyan frosting.
"I never said it was," he countered, ducking into the kitchen. A few minutes later she heard rustling, and a few minutes after that he popped back into the room right next to her, holding a tray of cupcakes. "Happy birthday."
She stopped for a moment, held up one finger, and then counted to herself. "Yep. Two hundred eighty. I'm surprised you remembered."
Thrian stared at her for a minute. "One, you told me. Two, it's your birthday, for light's sake!"
She shrugged. "So? It's just another year I've gone without becoming public enemy number one." The human rolled his eyes and put an arm around her, dragging her over to the couch. "Just eat a cupcake and shut up about the public enemy bullshit."
Accepting the blue-frosted one he handed her, she nodded approvingly. "You, sir. You have learned how to speak the fuck up."
Finishing the bite he'd taken out of his own, the red frosting deliciously sugary, he replied indifferently, "So? Who the hell cares?" And then licked a gob of icing off his cupcake. At that moment, Nalsia kissed him, her tongue stealing some of his sugar. Not that he was complaining, what with the methods she'd used to obtain it. "You know, there's another sitting right there next to you, right?"
She grinned at him. "Yeah, but stealing yours is much more fun."
.....Once again: not complaining, he was. "Suit yourself." He licked off some more of the frosting. She stole it again, letting it melt in her own mouth while she dragged out the kiss.
As soon as she'd leaned back onto her couch cushion, Thrian licked his lips. "Damnit." Nalsia batted her eyelashes innocently at him with a matching smile. "What?"
"Am I going to get any frosting at all?" She stopped to think for a moment, gaining an adorable thinking face. "Hmm...nope." Then she smiled at him.
Calmly, he set the half-finished breakfast (dessert, actually, but meh) down on the table. Then he pounced across the couch, pinning Nalsia down under him and kissing her with as much fire as possible.
"What was that for?" she asked jokingly after he'd let up to get air. "Stop looking so damn cute all the time and it wouldn't happen so often," he shot back, picking up his cupcake again.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched her eyeball her second one...then nab it with all the precision and grace of a panther grabbing a mouse for a snack. Slowly, she licked some frosting off the top. "Mmm," she moaned in an almost comical fashion. Then, as an afterthought: "Damnit! Sugar, my one weakness!"
"Note to self," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear, "Get more cake. Extra icing."
Blinking away the memory, she looked at the two cupcakes again and it dawned on her, suddenly, what her boyfriend was so happy about.
"We've been together six months," she breathed.
He nodded, and offered her the blue-frosted cupcake. "I figured for old time's sake–"
"Oh bullshit," she interrupted with a smirk, "You just chose this because it happened on the morning after our first time."
Thrian threw up his hands, careful not to drop his cupcake. "Alas, my schemes discovered!"
Nalsia took one look at him, set her cupcake back on the counter, and burst into hysterical laughter, rolling across the floor. He watched for several minutes, smiling as well, and then nudged her with his one foot. When she looked up at him, he licked some of the frosting off the cupcake, slowly and with purpose.
Her eyes sparkled with yet-unreleased laughter and understanding, tinged with nostalgia.
Rising up from the floor, she grabbed her own cupcake and slowly began picking at the edges of the paper, watching him carefully out the corner of her eye. He licked at the frosting again, and she waited for his tongue to retract into his mouth with the bright red concentrated sugar before she struck, a kiss as the coverup for her stealing the frosting right out of his mouth.
He growled at her as she giggled at the sheer look on his face, then the glare softened when she smiled at him. "Damnit," he complained softly, "Stop being cute."
Nalsia simply stuck her tongue out at him and sunk her teeth into her own cupcake, an enthusiastic "Mmmm" accompanying her chewing. Then a foreign tongue danced with her own, stealing bits of chocolate-y cake and the sugary frosting, before retreating.
"Haven't gotten rusty, I see," she mumbled under her breath with a smirk, prompting more laughter from the both of them.
"So what else do you wanna do today?" Thrian's question prompted the shifting of her eyes from her cupcake to him, accompanied by a familiar smirk that he'd learned to interpret as her equivalent of bedroom eyes.
"Hmmm....I wonder......"
He smirked back at her, and she winked and returned to the cupcake she held, and in a few minutes that obstacle was gone and he grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her into a kiss.
Later, with Thrian asleep (again) holding her, a smile on his face as he slept, Nalsia looked up at the ceiling and made her judgement.
"Life is good."
'You're my last resort'
Nalsia was on her last nerve, and the Council of Silver wasn't helping. The death knight had a lot on her plate at the moment, and the impending troll siege from the tribes she'd helped wipe out herself was the last straw. She had a daughter with love issues to deal with, her deceased best friends' son was in an orphanage she had to keep a careful eye on, it was Laeini's time of the month so the Engeli was no help and in fact was only making things worse, and last but not least she was incredibly sexually frustrated.
She and Koltira had mutually agreed on parting just over seventy years ago, but the male elf had been sure to make it clear to her that should she ever need help reaching an itch she couldn't scratch, his door was always open. Seven decades, and she was just about ready to snap and go back to her former lover. Nalsia was a strong and independent woman, but the one thing she needed at the moment was somebody who would whisper dirty things in her ear while making her scream his name.
Well, that narrowed it down drastically.
"Councillor Icerunner, I believe you had something to say regarding your guild's growing power?" The gravelly voice of the Human Councillor, Thomas Kegrel, snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Oh, yes, of course. Now as I mentioned earlier, the guild has no name and yet we're already a small army. I can call a meeting this weekend and see how many of my guildmates will pledge their support to protecting Silverlight, though I highly doubt there will be any cowards found among my people." Her tone and appearance radiated calm and practiced ease, but on the inside she was in turmoil.
The Lunorya Councillor, Nazara Thundershot, waved her hand dismissively. "Oh I doubt that. It is in the calm before the storm that the men and women are separated from boys and girls. Not everyone is a brave soul, not all will answer the sounds of battle with blade, spell, and arrow. Some of your people will tuck their tails and run. Accept it."
Gritting her teeth but smiling at the older Councillor's advice, however condescending, Nalsia nodded and fervently prayed for the Council meeting to end.
Nalsia slammed the door behind her so hard that her set of heirloom, passed-down-from-Theron-to-Theron sabres fell off the wall and embedded themselves in the hardwood floor. She didn't stop to pick them up or even acknowledge that they'd fallen. As she stepped further into the foyer, not stopping to admire the beauty of the grand, sweeping double staircases, she heard an aggravated silken voice yell "Could you please not slam the door so goddamned loudly?!"
Her snow white face contorted into a snarl, and she yelled back to Laeini, "Could you please shut the fuck up and let me be?!"
Immediately the elf felt a pang of guilt, but the Engeli didn't respond, so mission accomplished.
As soon as she reached her room, Nalsia, closed the door behind her silently and stripped out of her dress armor, fingering the two pendants around her neck. A sky-blue sapphire set in platinum, and a bright amber topaz set in gold. The topaz was cut in a disc shape and gleamed in the light that her open curtains allowed into her room, and the sapphire was cut in a small half-circle, with the facets bouncing blue shadows across the mirror the elf stood in front of.
She remembered receiving the topaz.
Her aunt squatted down in front of her, a full quiver strapped to her hip and her bow slung over her shoulder. A longsword was belted to her other leg, and her Ranger-Captain's armor was a mix of rustling leather and jingling chainmail. Alleria's blue tattoo scrolled around her left eye as she looked down at her niece.
"Okay, Songbird, I have to say goodbye now."
Nalsia had hugged her aunt tightly at that moment, not letting her emotions show. "Be careful in Outland, Aunt Ally."
"Of course, Little Bird. But before I go, I have something for you." The woman's auburn hair was bound back in a tight braid and her hood was down, letting Nalsia see the mschevious grin that snuck across her aunt's tanned face. The older elf pulled something out of a side pouch on her quiver and dropped it into her niece's cupped hands. It was a topaz disc, set in gold on a matching chain.
"A little something to remember your aunt by if she doesn't come back."
Nalsia had glared up at the woman, the most defiant and fierce look she could muster. "You'll come back."
Alleria chuckled. "Of course I will. But just in case.......goodbye, Ariav."
As the Ranger had walked away, her niece realized it was the first time her aunt had ever called her by her actual name.
She also remembered getting the sapphire.
Koltira's hand cupped her chin, and brought her face up so he could look her in the eye. "I will always be here for you. As your boyfriend, as a brother, as a friend, as an associate. Whatever you need me to be for you. But if you ever do end up lonely," the male elf kissed her on the cheek and dropped something cold into her palm, "My door is always open and my bed is always empty."
After he'd disappeared from sight, Nalsia had looked down into her hand and found a choker, sapphire set in platinum on a thick, linked chain. She looked up at the door and muttered, "Oh Tira....I'm sorry."
Nalsia made up her mind in that moment.
She pulled on a tank top over her bra and a pair of leather leggings and dark leather boots on her legs and feet, then rubbed the sapphire and let the pendant fall back on her neck as she began to cast a quick teleport.
Siouxsie nodded to her as she entered the hall. "General."
Nalsia nodded back. "Lietenant."
At the end of the hall was a flat with a balcony overlooking Icecrown. She found Koltira there, an empty wineglass in his hand and a keen gaze pinned on the horizon. When she stepped out onto the balcony he turned to look at her, then smiled and got up from his chair. He greeted her with a friendly hug and a bright smile. "Nals! What's up?"
Her melancholy gaze slowly transferred from the floor to the other elf's face. He stared back at her for a long time, then asked in a quiet voice "Do you need help with something?"
She turned around without a word and stalked back into his flat. Nalsia heard him following her, and pushed open the door to his bedroom, finally turning to look at him. "Yeah," she said finally, "I need your help."
The male death knight stalked towards her. "Ah, I see. Help."
As Koltira slowly backed her into the wall, she nodded. He gave her a slow, sensual kiss and snapped his fingers, their clothes reappearing in neat piles next to them. He kissed lower and lower, slow as ever, and Nalsia answered with a needy moan.
'OCDs and Curveballs'
There was a rustle, then a voice directly in his ear. "What are you doing in my room?"
Thrian's hands froze halfway through reorganizing the bookshelf in front of him. "Uh.....cleaning?" He didn't even need to see her face to know that she'd heard the weak smile through his tone of voice.
Nalsia's hands left his shoulders and she stepped back. "Fine then. If you're going to be here, you might as well be useful. It's a mess." He snorted lightly at the understatement, but remained silent. "I'm going back to bed. You can join me if you want."
Thrian froze. "Excuse me?"
"I said," she replied, "You can join me if you want."
He tried to form an answer, then gave up and went back to reorganizing the shelves.
Nalsia smirked. She'd thrown Thrian so far off his mental track that he'd unconsciously cleaned all three of her rooms besides her actual bedroom. Turning towards the main door, he had just rested his hand on the doorknob when hers pulled his away. "Oh," she murmured into his ear, "Don't go."
The human's breath hitched, and he froze. "You know....normally people don't sneak into rooms in the middle of the night to just clean. Sometimes they sneak in for more entertaining reasons...."
Her hand drifted from his wrist to his shoulder, tugging him another few inches away from the door, which was surprisingly not his objective anymore. "Like, say, what I mentioned earlier."
Thrian licked his lips nervously. "As in, and I quote, more 'entertaining reasons'?"
She chuckled slightly, her grip on his shoulders not loosening in the slightest. "Indeed."
'I'll be here if you need me'
Roan's one eye twitched as he marched to the breakfast table. He looked like death walking; barely noticeable bags under his eyes, said eyes losing some of their normal acidic intensity, and his right hand kept spasming, though since it was shoved in his pocket noone but himself would know.
He arrived at his intended destination and did a double take. Thrian and Nalsia were already at the table, but the moaning that'd kept him up all night was still continuing in the general area of his room. Nalsia glanced up at him, grinned, and announced "Oh that? Ini's keeping Zeph pretty busy, isn't she?"
The Blood Elf froze in his tracks. His eyes flickered between the hallway he'd just entered the room from, the ceiling, and the two people at the table already. The fact that said people were sharing apple slices was entirely irrelevant to him. No, it was the mental image of his healer and said healer's mentor doing the nasty that broke the remaining fragment of his sanity.
"I....I thought......I thought that was you guys....." Roan said, his speech slow and disjointed. "It kept me up......all fucking night....."
Nalsia grinned again. "It would've been us, but those two were louder."
Thrian flushed and muttered under his breath, but otherwise stayed out of the conversation.
The Death Knight waited for a sarcastic remark, but getting none she turned back to the warlock and let a hint of maternal warmth creep into her tone. "Why don't you catch some Z's on the couch?"
Roan inched away from the other elf before answering. "I've seen the victims of your marker skills. I'm not risking that."
"Well," Nalsia shot back, "The only other option is Nadia's room, the only dead spot, sound-wise, in this house."
The warlock waved her off. "Nah. I don't need sleep."
Five minutes later, Roan was shaken awake.
"I know, I know."
Nadia woke up....more or less....to a series of knocks on her door. Rolling out of her bed and falling with a soft thunk to the carpeted floor, the rogue then stood and staggered the rest of the way to her destination. "What the bloody hell do you want?"
Roan's voice came from the other side of the door. "Your mom sent me."
The knowledge sluggishly registered in her brain, and she cocked an eyebrow quizically, opening the door. He darted in, nearly knocking her over in the process, and slammed it shut behind him. His ears twitched for a few seconds and then he sighed in relief. "She was right."
Nadia was still in the same position she'd been to hold the door open, until she blinked and lowered her hand to her side. "Oh...kay....I'm just going to go back to bed and get up when this makes sense."
Roan glanced up at her from his newly-acquired spot on the soft and fluffy carpet. "Oh, Laeini and Zephros kept me up all night, though until this morning I thought it was your mother and Thrian. I passed out on the breakfast table and your mom kinda sorta dragged me here, saying something about this room being 'dead, sound-wise'?" Accentuating his sentence with air quotes, he then lay back down.
"Oh." Nadia stared at him. "So let me get this straight, the priests kept you up all night banging but you thought it was mom and Thrian. You passed out in front of aforementioned mother and she bitched at you until you came here, where you're going to sleep on the floor."
When Roan nodded, she sighed and then pointed at the empty mattress space beside her. "Sit down."
He glanced at her. "But I'm already laying down."
She glared at him and pointed at the bed again. "Sit. Down. Here. Now."
Deciding it was best not to argue with the daughter of a woman he knew could argue very well, Roan rose and slowly trudged over to Nadia's bed, sitting down on the edge. Risking a glance at the other elf, he caught the tail end of a smile.
"Alright....I'm going back to sleep." A light snore announced the truth in the sentence a few seconds later, and Roan yawned, closing his own eyes and hoping for a peaceful sleep.
Roan woke up and stretched, yawning. The fact that Nadia Windrunner was latched to his side was only a minor detail.
Until he noticed it, however. Then the fact that Nadia Windrunner was latched onto his side became a much bigger deal for him after that.
Her eyes fluttered open, met his own, then shut again, the only change in their arrangement being her cuddling closer to him and mumbling something unintelligible.
Almost afraid of what the answer would be, he gently cleared his throat and asked, "What?"
Nadia smiled, her eyes still closed. "I said I'm glad this isn't real life, otherwise I'd be shy as hell right now. I know this is a dream. It has to be. Roan Runeweaver letting me cuddle him in real life? Not gonna happen." When at last she opened her eyes, she crawled up and on top of him, settling her chin on her palms and her elbows on his chest.
"Now....back into my personal fantasies and not answering stupid questions from my subconscious..."
Roan rolled his eyes.
"Let's make some noise."
His eyes were now wide open, his tongue tangling with Nadia's as she pressed their lips together.
She made out with him for a good minute or so, if his internal clock was correct, then let him have air.
"Nadia."
Said woman opened her eyes again and stared into his own. "What?"
Roan swallowed nervously. "This isn't.......it's not.....this is real life," he managed at last, wincing as he watched her expression go from hurt to pissed to worried.
"Oh gods, I'm so sorry!" she was so busy apologizing that she yelped when he flipped them over, so now he was on top of her.
"No, no," he whispered in her ear, "I agree with you on this one. Let's make some noise."
Thrian glanced up from his toast. Very faintly, he heard a thunk, followed closely by a groan. Taking on a deadpan look, he turned to Nalsia, who was smirking in her usual way. "I thought you told him her room was a dead spot for sound?"
The pale elf's smirk remained in place. "I did. We're the only ones that can hear them."
The human rolled his eyes and went back to his breakfast.
"Ooh, Roan, oh...."
"..........I'll be going now."
Nalsia grinned at his abandoned toast. "Oh well, guess I'll have to go back to sleep myself..."
Thrian froze and she covered her laughter with her hand.
'Flaming Angel'
Korrahn sat with his knees up to his chest, hugging them there as sweat trickled down his bare back. His armor and swords had been discarded by the ogres after he'd been knocked out, according to Cain, but since his brother had also been knocked out soon after he didn't really have much information to offer.
Sighing, the Death Knight glared at the ogres keeping them captive, while thanking his lucky stars that his captors had the decency to at least leave him his pants. So, even though he was locked in a metal cage (one of many that ringed the room; his friends were in a few of the others, and Cain occupied one right next to him, but they all shared the same great view of the open drop into the magma interior of the volcano in the center of the great forge) he at least had some of his dignity. His pride could not say the same.
At least he had one ray of light, while locked in a volcano: Ariav had to have gotten out. She probably wouldn't be back with reinforcements in time to save him, but she was alive and most likely on the move, hopefully heading away–
"PUT ME DOWN YOU MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A BITCH!"
–Korrahn's head hit the bars before he even had a chance to register anything more than despair. Of course. He had to jinx her escape and hope on his un-life that she'd made it out safely, and now here she was, being carefully carried in by two ogres who were restraining her with chains that kept her suspended between them, writhing and screaming obscenities.
"WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU FEEL PAIN IN PLACES YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HAD FEELING!" she raged, screaming at the top of her lungs as she did her damn well best to break her bonds. Already her wrists and ankles were bruising, but if she knew or even noticed, she didn't seem to care.
"I SWEAR TO ALL THAT'S HOLY, THERE IS NOWHERE YOU'LL BE ABLE TO HIDE FROM ME WHEN I GET OUT!" At last, with the help of an ogre mage, the screaming and cursing elf was deposited gently in a cage, which was then locked and avoided like the plague. Stifling a laugh, Cain traded a glance with him before they both turned back to Ariav across the way. She was still yelling very unpleasant things about the ogres' mothers and throwing herself against the bars, but her fervor was slowly being lost.
Finally, she slammed herself against the bars one last time, and panting heavily, announced "I am not dying in this hellhole," before sitting down for a breather. Within minutes, she was back on her feet, but this time just rattling the bars and her chains, looking for any weaknesses or imperfections that she could exploit to escape. At last, seemingly growing impatient, she freed her one arm with a mighty tug. The chain came untied from the cage bar and she smirked.
Glancing around quickly to make sure none of the ogres had seen her, she began working at her other arm, then her legs, until she was freestanding. Still, a look around the forge revealed no one was paying attention to her but the other captives, who either hadn't seen such a lively and determined spitfire of a prisoner before or were counting on her escape efforts to spring them as well.
After concluding that she was being virtually ignored by her captors, Ariav went back to scouring the cage for anything she could use to get out. She found an old bone fragment, which she tried picking the lock with, but it snapped and the attempt failed. After that, she tried wrapping her chain around one of the bars and pulling with all her might, but it wouldn't budge. Growling in frustration, she examined the lock itself, and her face lit up like a Winter Veil tree.
Masking her sudden joy quickly, she looked around once again, but met only the eyes of the other prisoners, who were making the universal sign for 'keep going'. Letting a thin smile flit across her face, she spun and administered a powerful kick to the lock itself. Contrary to everybody else's doubts, the rusted lock practically shattered like grey glass and the cell door swung open with a bang.
That was, of course, when the man of the house, or volcano, as the situatoon dictated, made his entrance. Tendrils of red magic wrapped themselves around Ariav's throat and limbs, until she found herself next to a tall and imposing figure.
His green eyes burned into her own defiant blue-violet ones, a fierce scowl adorning her tanned face while a bemused expression graced his pale one. He was obviously a blood mage or necromancer of some kind, and the undead woman staggering into the cavern after him confirmed the 'necromancer' theory.
The newcomer's skin was almost so white that it glowed, his features chiseled and his eyes a fierce green, his elven ears bobbing as he moved. His hair was a wild and unkempt mane of fiery dark red that tumbled past his shoulders and to the middle of his back, and even though she was floating at least three inches off the ground, he was nearly two inches taller than her, and she was 5'6, so that was saying something.
"My name," he began, in a voice as smooth as silk, "Is Darkmaster Flamewalker. But you, my dear," he continued, pulling her slightly closer, "Can call me Master."
Ariav promptly spit in his face.
Now scowling deeply, Flamewalker wiped the spit off his face and continued. "Do you know how long it's been since I've seen an actual living woman?" Gesturing at the mindless undead girl following him around, he turned his focus back to her. "No, I suppose not. But I'm willing to make you a deal, my dear girl."
Still very much so pissed off, she spit in his face again, but this time spoke as well: "Er es korakas. Go to hell, maggot food."
The necromancer sighed again, angered but much more resigned this time, wiping his cheek with the sleeve of his dark robe. "You're not understanding. You do me a favor, and I let you go free. It's that simple."
"No," she shot back, "I'm afraid you don't understand. Take your sick perverted fantasies elsewhere, I'd rather die."
Flamewalker pulled her yet again closer, anchoring her with his unholy magical grip. "Then it seems you have a wish I can grant."
'Damn Bet'
The entire day had been tipped on its side because of that one stupid bet they'd taken. Rakh and Isabel had dared Thrian and Nalsia to swap personalities with them for the day, difficult for all four due to their polar opposite-ness. Rakh had slipped up a few times, breaking the shy facade, and Thrian had flushed every time he muttered a dirty remark, but the girls had been doing fairly well, all things considered.
Now, Thrian was hiding in his bedroom, hoping to not have to say anything else Rakh-ish for the evening. But of course, when you challenge Fate, she answers. A knock came at his bedroom door, quiet yet insistent. Sighing, he let a smirk twist his lips and hid the exasperation in his eyes behind what might possibly pass as a seductive look to some people before he trudged over to the door, slowly twisting the knob and pulling the attatched door open.
A relieved smile replaced his previous look when he saw who his visitor was: Nalsia, finally back in her usual out-of-combat ensemble. Leggings, knee-high boots, and bandages wrapped around her chest. All of the aforementioned items were black.
She smirked at him. "Having a hard time being...charming, should I say?"
He grinned back and atepped aside to let her in. "Paints the whole picture in a better light, so sure."
The elf strode in and took a seat by the fireplace, closing her eyes as the flames' glow danced across her face. "So about earlier...."
Thrian swallowed nervously. "Uh, what about earlier?"
One blue eye cracked open, its frosty glow combating the warm light of the fire. "I meant what I said."
"What you–oh. Wait, wait, what?"
She rose from her spot, glancing at the door to verify that it was once again closed and locked, before stepping closer to him. "What did I say earlier?"
Thankful the question gave him something else to think about, Thrian answered. "You said 'Bad things happen when I get aggravated', and I said 'What kind of bad things', to which you said 'Keep going and find out'."
Nalsia nodded, taking another step closer. Which brought her right in front of him, leaving only three inches of air between the two. "And you kept on going like I wasn't going to do anything about it....." one of her hands came up to his shoulder, "When I'd already said I would....." her other hand came to his other shoulder, "And now," she leaned closer, "I'm going to make good on what I said."
Thrian's face was a mask of confusion. "Huh?"
She sighed and kissed him.
".........what the hell just happened?" he asked.
Nalsia laughed lightly and kissed him again, but slower this time, less rushed and more natural. He responded, pulling her closer.
A step back on the elf's part threw them both off slightly, but nonetheless Thrian followed, each step she took back he took one forwards, until she stopped, unable to go back any farther.
Thrian woke up to a distinct feeling of abscence, like somebody was supposed to be there but evidently wasn't. Think, think.......he turned an impressive shade of crimson as he remembered what had transpired the previous night, then glanced over at the fireplace and was slightly surprised to see a pale figure stretched out in front of it, still undressed from the night's....er....activities.
Swallowing his nervousness, and embarrassment, he sat up. "That bad, huh?"
Nalsia's head whipped around fast enough to give her whiplash. "I regret nothing. Especially what happened last night."
"Why not?" He inquired, as she stood up.
The elf gave a short, breathy laugh. "Do you even remember anything?"
"Well...er....yes...." Thrian scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
She laughed again, walking back over and sliding under the sheets next to him, pressing up against his side. "Then you'll understand when I ask if we can do it again?"
"I suppose so."
'First time for Everything'
The documentary ended, and was greeted with certain degrees of silence. For Laeini and Zephros, their rapt attention had been paid to the screen the entire time. Nadia, Azurae, Roan, Rakh, Isabela, and Aranas had spent the last two hours whispering dirty jokes back and forth, making odd faces, and just plain conversing by mouth-to-ear procedures. Requiem and Torel bore looks of careful disinterest, attempting to not offend the two Angeli that had selected the 'movie'. It was a history of the neutral factions and their leaders, covering everything from the Kirin Tor to Therazane.
Thrian sat quietly, ruminating over the knowledge that'd just been given to him with a thoughtful look on his face. His concentration was disrupted by a quiet snore from a few feet behind him, and he turned. Nalsia was curled up in her chair, eyes closed and breathing carefully regulated yet free. "She's.......asleep?"
His question caused nearly everybody else present to turn their attention from each other to the twelfth crazy of the bunch, who was, in fact, peacefully asleep in her armchair.
"That's hot," Rakh commented, followed by a "So much agree," from Aranas. Nadia and Azurae stifled their giggles as Laeini rolled her eyes and Requiem applied her hand to her face. Torel and Zephros glanced at Thrian, who glanced back, and then at Nalsia. Isabela and Roan were busy having some silent conversation from the looks of it, involving glaring and sign-language insults flying back and forth.
"Well," Laeini sighed, "She's stuck here for the night then. Speaking of the night, have a good one, I'm hitting the metaphorical hay." And with that the angelic woman gathered her skirts and left, fluffing her wings to get all the cramps out.
Thrian eyed the sleeping elf. "Requiem."
"Yes?" The Darkfallen answered, clearly perplexed.
"How much does she weigh out of her armor?" Everyone remaining in the room stared at him, but Requiem cleared her throat and soldiered on. "Around a hundred twenty pounds I'd guess? She doesn't look like it, but...you've seen her gear. Most of it's muscle."
The human nodded thoughtfully. "Looks like she won't be stuck out here after all."
At Nadia's audible "Huh?", Thrian rose from his sitting position and picked up the sleeping woman, who didn't stir in the slightest as he slipped an arm under her upper back and the other under her knees. Silence reigned as he plodded out of the room, his invincible leader passed out in his arms.
Nalsia's right ear twitched as he settled her into her bed and turned to leave for his own, and then her eyes opened slightly. Just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her burning blue eyes as she mumbled something.
It sounded vaguely like a command, so he did the logical thing a subordinate would do and stopped moving, backtracking a few paces to her bedside. "What was that?"
With a decidedly groggy look to her, Nalsia raised her head from the pillow and reached out an arm, lacing her fingers through his own. "Stay." Then seemingly as an afterthought, "Please?"
The fog of sleep had lifted from her mind, apparently, as her eyes were fully opened and burned brightly with the same calculating look they always had. From the slight shadow of a frown on her face and the way she tilted her head, she was probably expecting him to leave the room anyway.
So it must have come as a surprise when his arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, where she stayed for several minutes until she pulled her head up slightly. Her eyes met his own, and the imaginary tether now binding them didn't allow him to look away.
"Thanks," Nalsia murmured softly, her breath wispy on his cheek. "I...I don't know what I thought, really, but you stayed and......yeah."
"Well you asked me to stay," he shot back, as quiet as her tone had been, "So I couldn't exactly just go."
She blinked. "Thrian....you always have a choice. My word isn't law in my house, it's just a suggestion."
"Well...fine. I didn't want to go." His guilty admission made his face burn, but she only smiled softly and scooted closer, bringing her lips to his own.
What started as a simple kiss quickly devolved–or evolved, depending on your point of view–into a needy give-and-take on both sides, the lip-lock lasting several minutes until they both ran out of breath and were forced to stop or risk semi-suffocation.
"Is it bad that I want this?" Thrian's innocent question didn't fall on deaf ears. Nalsia stopped and looked him straight in the eyes. "Only if you feel guilty about wanting it. I don't. But do you?"
"Hmm....nope."
Her lips captured his, and the game quickly gained more rules. Such as no clothes.
'Dead'
Nalsia pulled the covers up over her body, right up to her chin, and sighed contentedly. Sleep beckoned her with a warm wave-
KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK.
-and then abruptly fled back into the shadows that inhabited the corners of her room. She groaned and sat up, rubbing her eyes, before sliding out of bed and trudging out of her room, down the hall, down the stairs, and to the front door. Putting on her best winning smile and grabbing the elven daggers from the rack on the wall, she flung open the door and took a battle stance.
"Woah!" Thrian exclaimed, throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Scary lady, please point those knives away from my face."
The elf's eyebrow rose. "How in hell's half acre did you-"
"Get past the sentries?" He cut her off with a smile. "Someone very good taught me how to cause a distraction then run like hell." With a glance over his shoulder, he added, "Emphasis on the 'run like hell' part."
Stepping aside, Nalsia sighed. "Come on in. I assume you'll need a place to crash, after whatever stunt you just pulled."
After the human had walked in, she closed the door and locked it, throwing the deadbolt as well before moving on to the windows. As she locked things, she spared a half-glance at the paladin resting on her couch. "So what did you do that requires hiding?"
He shook his head. "I tried to walk in here as my human because I couldn't see the Horde flags."
Her hand met her face. "Of course."
"So then I switched to my Blood Elf," Thrian continued, lacing his fingers behind his head and kicking his feet up on the coffee table, "But they were still after me so I ran this way and found you."
Nalsia stopped and slowly turned to look at him. "Either you're sleeping on the couch or in my room. Take your pick."
He flushed red and mumbled something she couldn't make out. "Up the stairs, take a right, third door down." Due to her thinking he'd said "With you" or something like that. Muttering a quick thanks, he unarmored and bolted.
Shaking her head, she went into the kitchen and threw together the base of tomorrow's breakfast before trudging up to her room and gently pushing open the door. Thrian was standing awkwardly next to her bed, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing at the walls, the ceiling, the floor–anything but her or the bed.
Once again the elf shook her head. "Get in, or I'm cracking you upside the head so hard–"
The human was in her bed and hiding under the blanket faster than she could finish the mock-threat. Nalsia laughed slightly at his antics, then calmly walked over, plunked down next to him, and quickly realized there was a major problem: not enough blanket for the two of them.
She tried to shift so there was more for him, but then noticed he'd done the same thing for her, and that ended with them staring at each other in the ensuing awkward silence. She cleared her throat. "Um...I don't think this is going to work."
Thrian coughed lightly. "I'd just noticed that, actually."
"Do you want me to go sleep on the couch?"
"No, this is your bed."
"But you're the guest."
"But this is your bed."
"Yeah, so?"
"So what?"
"What what?"
"........what?"
She blinked. "I have no idea."
He shrugged. "Seriously though. I'll go sleep downstai-brrr it's cold in here."
"Huh?" Sparing a glance over at the human, she could see from what wasn't obscured by the comforter that his chest and arms were covered in goosebumps.
"I said, it's cold."
"Oh. What am I supposed to do about it?"
"I..." he paused "I don't know."
Nalsia went to give another dodgy, shy-ish answer, then stopped. Why not? "Oh, fuck it."
Thrian was thoroughly startled when she rolled on top of him, staring into his eyes intently with a dark smirk. "W-what t-the–"
"Shh," she murmured, lowering her head to kiss the edge of his jaw, "Just let it happen."
His brown eyes were wide. Not with fear, but with shock. "A-are you saying....w-what I think you're s-saying?"
The elf nodded, her hands already tasked with holding his high above his head. "Depends on what you think-" she paused to nip at his neck, garnering him sucking in air "-I'm saying."
"Well, can I at least move my hands if you're really serious about this?" The question prompted his hands being set free by her own. "Better?"
"Yeah," he replied, going for, surprisingly, holding her shoulders instead of other things, and giving her a hard kiss, "Getting better."
The elf twisted on top of him, smirking all the while. "Hey! Hold still already so I can-"
"That's what she said," Nalsia interrupted, still smirking. "Right along with 'We're totally going to have hot sex because one of us was a dumbass that aggroed the sentries and had to at the other's place while the shitstorm blows over'."
He gave her an unimpressed look. "We haven't even gotten there yet. How do you know it's hot?"
"You were complaining about being cold," she snarked, wriggling under him as he flipped the order on her, "So either make it or break it, buddy."
"Can I break you?" His question caused her to glare at him. "Hon, the only thing in this room you can break is the bed. I'm living steel. So have fun mining that."
"A challenge?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"On how hard it'll be now."
"Very hard."
"Ooh, really?"
"Just for you." A short kiss.
"Alrighty then."
The next morning Nalsia's eyes fluttered open and then shut again.
Then opened again when something–er, somebody–drew her into a soft kiss, accompanied by a "Morning, surfal."
She froze. "What did you just call me?"
It was his turn to freeze. "I don't know much Thalassian just yet but I'm still pretty sure I got 'love' right."
"You...you did...but why though?" Had she not been being held, she would've been scratching her head, dumbfounded.
"Because," a kiss on the cheek, "I'm not one of those cheap one-nighter guys."
"So...." she looked up at him hopefully, "You saying 'not one of those one-nighters' as in 'this'll happen again' or as in 'you're mine now'?"
There was a moment of silence. "You're mine now. And it will happen again. Like tonight maybe?"
His hopeful grin was enough to stamp out the 10% of 'No' she had on her mind and replace it with 10% 'Take me now' to go with the 80% 'Yes' and the last bit, 10% 'All my yes'. "Tonight? Why wait so long? There's now, isn't there?"
"............damnit, you're making it hard to not love you right now."
"My bad."
'Sick'
Medon clomped down the stairs in his plated boots, finishing the last buckle on his armored shoulder just as he reached the doorway to the training room. Fyra was already there, hanging upside down from the pull-up bar by her legs. She was in full plate as well, and was midway through an upside-down crunch when he tapped the wall next to the doorway.
With a startled squeak, she dropped from the bar and landed the two feet to the ground with a clang. ".........ow...." she whimpered a few seconds later. Cursing under his breath, the death knight moved to help her up, grabbing her hand and hauling her to her feet. "You alright?"
She nodded, but remained silent.
"Do you know what we're training today?"
Fyra shook her head no, the helmet obscuring her face and keeping him from seeing her panicked look.
".....are you going to actually say anything?"
She shook her head no again.
"Why not?"
"Reasons," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough for her clogged sinuses to effect her usual accent.
"What reasons?" Medon pressed, staring her down as unnervingly as he possibly could.
In response, she took her one hand, brought it up slowly, and waved it in front of his face. His glowing blue eyes followed the white and gold plated hand back and forth......and then she poked him in the forehead and stepped back indifferently. As he stood there and tried to figure out what exactly had just happened, she giggled slightly.
Abruptly, the human snapped out of his trance and fixed an icy glare on her. She answered with a playful wink, then took another step back towards the wall, just to be safe. "Alright, that's it!" He yelled, giving chase.
Making an adorable 'Eep!' type of noise when he rushed her, Fyra dropped to the ground and rolled under his charge, tripping him and giving her a precious few seconds to run. When he regained his footing, he charged at her again, flinging out an arm to catch her as the paladin attempted to duck away.
Together, they tumbled to the ground and rolled a few feet, Medon coming to realize upon the halting of the world's spinning that he was pinning Fyra to the ground, and her helmet had fallen off and bounced a few feet away. Coming to her own senses, she took stock of the situation they were in, and smiled impishly.
"Oh no," she stage-whispered in her best damsel-in-distress impression, "I'm stuck! Whatever will I do?"
The death knight laughed, stooping a few inches lower to get within the uncomfortably close range. "You could stop yelling...or you could just stay there and let me look at you..."
Her one ebony eyebrow shot up. "Excuse me?"
His head dipped even lower, now less than three inches from her own. "I said, you could just stay there and let me look at you."
"Hahaha, nice try there Knighty, but you'll be disappointed to find out that I'm GAH!" she yelped, as his lips made contact with her neck. "What the fuck!"
He momentarily froze, looking up at her. "You know how to swear?"
"What the fuck?"
".......I'll take that as a yes," he muttered, pulling her plated collar down an inch or so to expose more sensitive skin. She tried to squirm away, but he yanked her back and kissed her again, this time right on the edge of her jaw. "Question: you trying to get away because you actually want me to stop or because you're trying to make this interesting?"
She smirked slightly, all former fear forgotten. "Definitely not the second one."
Medon gained a smirk of his own. "Ah, now you're speaking a language I can understand."
"Which would be?" she asked, kicking at her left boot with its twin to get it off her foot.
"Sex and sarcasm," he answered casually, as if discussing the weather. With a snap of his fingers, they popped out of existence in the training room and back into it in the death knight's bedroom.
Which Fyra would've noticed more if the room's owner hadn't been attacking her neck. She gasped as his tongue pushed under her collar, only for an inch, but it made a difference.
"Oh ho ho, is that a weak point?" The death knight chuckled, momentarily pausing. Big mistake.
Fyra ripped her arms from his grasp and grabbed him into a fierce kiss that left him seeing stars for seven seconds. It literally showed up, his debuff panel popping up with an irritated beep to let him know he had a stun on him.
Rolling the now limp death knight off of her, she started with the buckles holding her shoulderplates in place.
Seconds later, her hands were knocked aside by pale, already unarmored ones that whipped through straps and buckles like mad, working as quickly as he could to rid her of her armor. She rolled her eyes at the hungry look Medon was giving her. Then, in a momentary lapse of activity, as her legplate dropped to the floor, said hungry eyes roamed across her body, which was now much more exposed than it usually was.
They came to a stop when they met her own, shortly before he pulled her into a hot kiss, contradicted by the freezing chill of Medon's hands working furiously at removing what little clothing she had left.
The next morning, he awoke to an unexpected amount of warmth right next to him. Looking down at Fyra and remembering what'd happened earlier that morning, he grinned evilly as he got an idea. The human craned his neck until his mouth was right next to her pointed ear, then whispered in a half-quiet tone: "I came. Twice."
Her own eyes opened, blinked, and then a seductive smirk settled onto her face. An unusual, but not unwelcome, change in the normally prudish elf. "I would know. One, I made you come in the first place...twice. And two, you came inside me...twice."
"Eh, touché," he responded, running a hand through her silky black hair. "I thought you were a virgin though?"
"Who told you I was a virgin?" Her curiosity was piqued, he could tell from the tone of her voice.
"Why?"
"Because," she answered, biting her lip, "They lied."
"Well, with how good you were last night, I'd say I agree with you there." Then Medon stopped. "A few questions, though."
"Shoot."
"Why're you so okay with this?" At her raised eyebrow, he elaborated. "You flirted back when I started putting moves on you even though I was just joking - I'm not complaining, mind you - and then we wake up the morning after and you're still in that mode. What the hell?"
She flicked a stray lock of hair back over her shoulder. "With Rakh, it's different. I grew up learning how to read people like open books. He's a wild child, the cowboy 'love em and leave em' type. I wouldn't get any farther than a bunch of one night stands with him. You though, you're different. You're a romantic. In your head, your first thought was, 'Shit.' Closely followed by 'Damnit now I feel guilt.' In fact," she stopped, her smirk growing more devilish, "I can already see the wheels turning in your head. And yes, I do frequent the World's End. Eight would be perfect."
His jaw hung a few inches below its anatomically correct position. "How the...what the....you...how?"
Her smirk shifted into a genuine smile. "Minor mind reading. Picked it up as my level eighty minor talent. And for the record, I do think you're hot."
Despite not having any blood to complete the action, Medon's face burned. "Stop that!"
Fyra stuck her tongue out at him childishly.
"Well that was real mature," he groused good-naturedly.
In response, the elf rolled over on top of him, their faces inches from one another. "You want mature, eh?" A grin twisted her lips. "I think I have something rated eighteen and up I can do..."
He smirked and mumbled "By the shadows hell yes!" before kissing her, his one hand rubbing her left leg and the other on her righr shoulder.
I get the distinct feeling nothing productive is getting done before noon today, his thoughts commented. "Mhhm, yeah," Fyra growled ferally, as if in answer.
............that was either an actual answer or just freakishly well-timed.
I don't really give a fuck which one it is, he answered himself, only to get a dry chuckle in response.
Of course you don't. That elf is stealing all of the fucks you had to give.
True, he conceded. Now I believe I was doing something before I started arguing with myself...again...
'DIARIES OF A MADMAN'
Diaries of a Madman: A Love Never Forgotten
"What's this then?" The dragonkin muttered to herself, stooping to collect the book Kale'thas had dropped. Nobody else had rolled on it, just left the raid. It was bound in fine leather, had a stiff spine, and had a small splash of blood across the cover from the fight. Shrugging, she opened it to the first page. Glowing green with fel magics, on the inside of the cover, were seven words:
To my one and only love, Ariav
"Kael was in love?" the red dragon mumbled to herself, setting down her staff and sitting to better read the book. She flipped the page.
My dearest Ria....what has become of you? Of us? You ran from me.....why did you run? I loved you with all of my heart, my soul, and even my body. But you still left me. And then you never returned. I will admit I was anguished over my father's death, but I never imagined that you of all people would first deny me the honor of becoming yours for life, then refuse the journey to the promised lands, this land I now hold sway over with an iron fist? My queen, my angel, my star...I could go on about you for days. No, longer. But I cannot, for my people need me. But soon I'll send somebody to find you, and bring you to me. And then you'll be my queen, the queen of the shattered lands. Yes....mine.
*rustle* *flip*
I've changed, my dearest. My skin run green with the power I now wield. Power that will be yours as soon as I find you, as soon as I make you mine. I've begun to practice managing my addiction, unsuccessfully so far. But as you always told me, it's the thought that counts. On a lighter note, I've sent out my first patrol to search around the Outlands, the shattered place that it is, to look for other signs of life. Isarei and her lover Trennan, along with Deanna and Kryios. The four of them are extremely capable fighters, guaranteed to be able to keep themselves alive throughout their mission's duration. Once again, I must go. This kingdom I am creating, for you and I, requires constant attention. Almost like a child. Children...yes, that would be nice. Farewell for now, Ria.
'WARCHIEFTESS'
Nalsia was pacing. "I can't! I know I can't! You know I can't!" Okay, so she was also in hysterics over some unknown issue. A rare sight.
Laeini was attempting the nigh-impossible task of getting a word in edgewise. "Nals, it'll be fi-"
"I know my parents want me to, but I can't! This is Grom's father we're talking about here!"
The priestess facepalmed. "That didn't stop you from slaughtering Varian right in front of Zeph and Thrian."
The elf rounded on her. "They aren't related! And killing Varian didn't drop the title Queen of Stormwind on my head, did it?"
"I don't think killing Garrosh will give you that title either." An eye roll accompanied the statement.
"AAAGH! You know what I mean! I don't want to be the Warchief! I never have, never will, I just want my guild and a fami-uhm...you didn't hear that last one."
Ini's eyes had snapped to her. "A family, you say?"
"You. Heard. Nothing."
"Who is it?"
"I do believe I said, you heard nothing."
"Come oooonnnn....."
"No!"
"Pleeeease?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because....it's never gonna happen. So no."
"Is he from the Alliance?"
"SHUT UP!"
"Ah, I see. You always did shoot for the stars, Nals."
"You're not helping me any!"
"What? I'm discussing your love life, that's helpful."
"One: I have no love life. Two: no it isn't!"
"Hmph. Don't get snappy with me, Warchieftess Windrunner-Theron.""
"Just Warchief.....ohgodohgod, oh god oh god, oh god oh god oh god,"
"And there she goes off the deep end again."
Roan walked into the room. "What's going on in he-"
"My parents want me to duel Garrosh the Warchief and we all know what happens when I win because I've already won before but I don't want to be the Warchief I've already got too much bullshit to deal with and leading an entire goddamn faction would only make seventy times worse and-" the Death Knight's panicked babbling was interrupted by Thrian's hand across her now closed mouth. "I'm just going to make a guess here....but you're slightly freaked out about this whole 'duel Garrosh and become the leader of the Horde' thing."
The paladin suddenly found himself on the receiving end of her best 'No shit' look.
"No shit."
His hand angrily yanked off her face by the woman herself, he stepped back. Just in case.
"I can't-aauuugh. An entire fucking faction, can you see me leading an entire fucking faction?"
"......yes?"
"Cause I can't eit-wait, what?"
"I said," he repeated, "Yes I can."
"Why the fuck?"
"Because reasons."
She seemed to deflate, glaring at him. "Oh fuck you."
"Please don't," he joked.
"Oh don't worry, I wouldn't."
"Hey!"
The death knight laughed.
'AAAND YOU SUCK AT THIS'
Thrian grumbled to himself. How the hell was he supposed to know that Glowing Grotto hadn't been cleared in over a week, or that when it wasn't cleared in under a week the mobs stacked up? Or that, currently, there were a fuckton of mobs in the caverns?
"Hey, this isn't your fault, you know," Roan whispered to him. He and the Blood Elf were chained to one of the stone walls, a short distance away from Aranas and Torel. Rakh and Zephros occupied yet another wall across from them, and in the center of the caverns was a large iron pot over a fire.
Yep, your typical 'monster catches adventurer and decides it's snacktime' situation. Except, with all six of them, including himself, it wasn't going to be just a snack. More like an all you can eat buffet, monster style. Yeah, that'd work. Suddenly, he felt somewhat better about his imminent death.
As the now downright chipper hostile mobs gathered around the pot, singing in some language he didn't understand, he heard a familiar triple-toned voice. "Really? Fucking really?"
Nalsia stood in the opening to an adjoining cavern, a hand over her face. "Don't tell me. The Grotto hasn't been cleared in over a week, has it?"
Thrian nodded glumly, his chains rattling. She sighed and stepped forward. "Irru!"
What the hell was she doing?
"Gi yari graimir. "
What language was that, anyway?
"Girqupi, umuamp quaryapi," one of the older demons replied, leaning forward towards her. "Umua yari?"
For a moment, he was afraid she wouldn't be able to make a response in whatever demonic gibberish it was.
"Um yap ryaapir Windrunner."
Instantly, the elder demon bowed, his forehead meeting the floor of the cavern. "Um yap xyapi, xaxir Windrunner."
She smiled. "Mu qirurip. Yamb umua, quirir Aguinhunh."
Slowly, in one by one lines, the demons slowly dwindled out of the cave. Nalsia's smirk remained in place.
"I love you right now," came Zephros's voice from across the cavern, "I swear on the light I would fucking kiss you if I wasn't chained to this wall."
She laughed. "Well in that case, remind me to leave you up there."
"No way!" Came the emphatic reply, causing her to laugh again. Then she turned business. "Thriiiian?"
"What."
"Why are you guys in the Glowing Grotto anyway?"
"Um........if I said we were trying to find you would I live through the next five minutes?"
"Probably not."
"Darn. I was really hoping to get out of here without a death."
"Are your arms hurting?"
"Slightly."
"I take it you'd like to get down from the wall."
"That would be nice, yes."
"Hang on. Can't lockpick as my death knight."
And with that, she went up in a swirl of dark blue flames that slowly turned an even darker ebony. A completely different figure dropped out of the cylinder. Red eyes, silver hair, white skin, and clad in dark leather with sabers belted to her hips and a bow and quiver slung over her back. A dark ranger.
She waltzed over and pulled out her lockpick, setting to work on all four of the chains holding him in place. He dropped off the wall, causing her to sidestep and he himself to hit the floor painfully. ".............ow."
It took another few minutes, but soon Nalsia had them all out of their shackles. She shifted back to her death knight and started walking out of the room.
"Wait!"
"Yes?" She stopped and turned her head slightly.
"Our quest objective's the other way."
Her hand hit her face with a very audible smack.
"You had better be fucking joking."
'AAA UNIVERSE'
Three siblings: Aiden, Ariav, Aarun.
A death knight, a fury warrior, and a fire mage.
Two men, one woman.
Well, this house is going to be radioactive.
ARIAV is, well......she's the warmonger. She lives for the heat of battle, and she's damn good at what she does, too. The oldest sibling, though sometimes not treated as such, she looks out for her younger brothers as much as she can. Exceptionally violent when provoked, she dual-wields the Greatswords of the Sin'dorei with speed and skill, taking her opponents by surprise and the battlefield by storm. Constantly defying the norm and all ongoing trends, she dyes her hair jet black and wears a mix of paladin and warrior gear, as well as a decorative cloak and shoulderguards identical to those of her father, Lor'themar's. Her eyes are an aqua-green, being a blend of sky blue and acid green, and she has a thorough tan that gives her a golden glow.
AIDEN is the family's black sheep. He, unlike his siblings, died in the Icecrown Citadel raid and became one of Arthas's most trusted lieutenants until his mother Sylvanas routed the Lich King and became the Banshee Queen. After leaving the Scourge he travelled to Silverlight, reuniting with his twin and older sister there, before starting a guild. He wears his heavy platemail constantly and always has his almost too big axe on hand...or on his back, in this case, preferring to be safe rather than sorry. His eyes are icy blue and his hair is a bleached white, only the faintest traces of its former golden blonde lingering. His skin is similar to his hair, deathly white and cold to the touch.
AARUN is the level-headed one. Er....actually, define 'level-headed'. For a fire mage, his attitude is remarkably calm.....but then again, that's just for a fire mage. The man has, in reality, an extremely explosive personality and is likely to maintain a highly volatile state of mind towards anybody but his siblings. He wears fire-themed robes and carries his trusty staff at all times, like his brother always prepared for danger. His eyes, though usually covered by his cowl, are an acidic and almost violent shade of lime green.
'I'M BEING WATCHED'
Thrian knocked on the two-story (plus attic and basement) house's front door, then took a step back and waited patiently. His younger brother Ian opened it and they shared a fist bump before making their way into the kitchen.
"So how's it going, Ian?" The paladin had a glass of water by his hand nearly instantaneously, the Death Knight sitting down across the table with an amused grin.
"Good.....so I heard you got a girl." The smirk grew.
Thrian's hand met his face.
"And what a girl. You're one lucky bastard Thri."
He removed his hand from his face so he could apply it again.
That was, naturally, when his mother Trynna walked in. Her pristess' robes were, as always, white and gold,but her staff hung on the wall by the door. She gave both of them a hug and a kiss on the cheek (""Mo-om!" Ian complained) before going for her own glass of water.
"Hello boys!" She momentarily tilted her head back to look up in the general direction of the attic. "And you too, honey. You want wine or water this time around?"
Thrian and Ian exchanged a confused glance before a woman phased through the attic floor (also the kitchen's ceiling) and dropped, landing on the floor with a crouch. "You still got that Montezuma?"
Trynna laughed. "Of course I still have the Montezuma."
While she busied herself with finding the bottle and a glass for the previously unnoticed third guest, Thrian tried to think up an explanation for how she could've ended up in his parents' house's attic, he found nothing.
"You're wondering–oh thank you, Mrs. Lightbringer,–" she began, accepting the glass from the priestess with a grateful smile, "Why I was in the attic."
The other woman's green eyes sparkled amusedly. "One, I think you broke my sons. Two, just Trynna, honey. You're older than me anyway."
Nalsia groaned. "Don't remind me. Two hundred and seventy three is two hundred and seventy three too many."
Trynna laughed. "Oh, me and Gav still owe you for helping us fend off those Talon Mercs, dear. I'll never forget that. You saved my sons, my home, and my life. Some debts can never be repaid, and this is one of them."
"But I didn't do that much," the pale elf tried to object, "All I helped with was–"
"Saving Thrian, figuring out where they were holding Ian for ransom, providing a nice one-woman army to help us retake our house, Spectral was a demon in her own right–" a loud neigh echoed from somewhere out side, as if to say You better believe it! "–and you managed to not blow up the house or Tryn's garden either. You didn't do much?"
The elf hung her head. "Meh. Guilty."
The rogue laughed, sliding into the room and standing next to his wife. "Anyways, hello Knighty."
"Knighty?" Ian interjected, suddenly sounding interested.
Gavrin smiled. "Her." A leather-covered finger came up to point at the oldest person in the room, who ducked her head and returned to the slightly alcoholic beverage she held.
"Wait, wait wait. You did what when I was....what?" The paladin glanced over at the elf.
"She saved your life when you were four," his father helpfully supplied.
Thrian's eye twitched.
"Well this is going to be the longest explanation ever," Nalsia muttered.
"–and that's how the Grinch saved Christmas," Nalsia ended her story.
Gavrin laughed heartily. "All these years, and you still know how to psyche out anybody that listens to you."
Thrian looked over at his mother. "Where's the painkillers again?"
Trynna was too busy laughing to answer.
Ian held up a hand. "So you mean to tell me that this lady here–" he gestured to Nalsia "–was two hundred fifty one when I was two?"
The lady in question nodded. "Yeah...I'm old."
"Well there's definitely an age gap, but you're pretty lucky Thri." All eyes turned to Gavrin.
"Um...do I even want to ask?" Nalsia's question was met with a point at her, and a point at Thrian. Gavrin's smirk threatened to grow as they looked at each other and it suddenly clicked for them both.
"Oh no, no way." Thrian's objection was met with an equally emphatic "Uhm howsabout no." From the other end of the conversation.
Both of their faces were lightly tinted red now.
Ian rolled off his chair, laughing hysterically. The death knight was, for the most part, ignored.
"Hey, no objections here son. In fact, she's probably the best thing that's happened to you since you were four. And she was what happened then too." Gavrin could barely speak through his chuckles.
Thrian reddened more. Nalsia buried her face in her hands.
"But what happens behind closed doors isn't our–"
"Nope not going there!" Nalsia nearly yelled, scooting over onto the arm of the couch, as far away from Thrian as she could get while staying sitting.
Trynna attempted, and failed, to quell her amusement.
"Behind closed doors...." Ian whispered suggestively to his brother, nudging him in the side as they separated to go to their rooms for the night.
"Oh shut up Ian." Shrugging off the younger man's smirk and wink, he slammed the door behind himself and set about getting ready for bed.
It only took around fifteen minutes for him to be just about ready to hit the hay.
Figuratively, of course. Though there had been that one time when he was seventeen...not going there either.
He cracked open the window to let out some of the stuffy air his room had accumulated over his stay in Silverlight, and he heard somebody singing.
"Dear mother, I love you. I'm sorry, I wasn't good enough."
Who the hell....?
"Dear father, forgive me. 'Cause in your eyes, I just never added up."
It sounded downright feminine. low and sad, but feminine.
"In my heart I know, I failed you. But you left me here alone,"
It couldn't be....could it?
"If I could hold back the rain, would you numb the pain, 'cause I remember, everything!"
Nalsia?
"If I could help you forget, would you take my regrets, 'cause I remember, everything!"
He poked his head out the window and looked around. There was Spectral curled up by the side of the house under his father's napping Oak, the moon shining on his parents' home in the woods and its surrounding trees and other forest flora and fauna, but no singer.
The momentary lull in sound ended.
"Dear brother, please don't hate me. For never standing by you, or being by your side. Dear sister, please don't blame me. I only did, what I thought was truly right,"
By the end of that line he was halfway to the attic stairs. When he emerged he noticed the hatch to the outside roof was open. He poked his head out there and found the source of the sound.
"I feel like running away, I'm still so far from home, you say that I'll never change, but what the fuck do you know?"
The elf in question was sprawled on the roof, fingers laced behind her head and ankles crossed.
"I'll burn it all to the ground, before I let you win! Please forgive me, I can't forgive you now,"
He crept up beside her slowly, taking in her closed eyes and the one tear tracing the curve of the side of her face on its journey to the roof below her.
"I remember, everything,"
There was once again a long pause. It was like she had the song playing in her head, whatever instruments it had.
The tears fell faster now, making a slow but steady path down her face. A few more seconds of this, and the pause ended.
"If I could hold back the rain, would you numb my pain, 'cause I remember, everything! If I could help you forget, would you take my regrets, 'cause I remember everything!"
She took a long, slow breath, as if winding down.
"Everything....."
With that one last tone, her eyes cracked open and fluttered shut again.
Then opened in an almost violently quick manner. "Thrian?"
He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Woah, woah, calm down-" his mind then proceeded to remind him of something his father had once told him: Son, telling an angry woman to calm down is like throwing water on an oil fire. It *just makes things worse.***
"Oh shit," he squeaked as he saw her eyes flare.
Nalsia glared at him for a few seconds, another tear sliding down her face before she sighed, and abruptly her anger shut off.
"Why....are you up here exactly?" her question was met with a guilty look away on his part.
"I...uh....I heard you singing in my room. I opened my window first though!" his frantic sentence was met with a laugh. "Relax. I always come up here when I visit your parents, I know by now they can't hear me. Or Ian, I'd be surprised if he could hear anything over his own snoring."
'GUY TALK'
"So, all day, huh?" Rakh had some small amount of pity in his voice as he eyed Thrian's leg. Still sore from the harpoon it'd received the day before, it wasn't of much use to him at the moment. "Yeah. Why?"
The rogue shook his head. "Nothing much, just dropped by to see how you were. And....if you wanted to talk."
Thrian's wandering interest found itself captured. "Talk? About what?"
"About...em...Nalsia." Both men glanced around for a few minutes, almost expecting the elf to step out of the shadows with an amused 'You rang?' After around ten or so minutes of nothing happening, Rakh continued. "So.....just cut the paladin-speak bullshit and tell me what goes on behind that door of yours. If you don't mind."
The human rolled his eyes. "We fuck. End of story. Either that or she's so exhausted we just sleep."
Rakh was staring at him in amazement. "Holy shit! And here I though that Zeph was lying about you being capable of 'impure' speech!"
Thrian facepalmed, wincing as his leg moved. "Just...what do you want to know?"
"Is she tight?"
"Yes."
"Is there any actual love between you two?"
"Let's put it this way: I'm hiding a ring in my old room."
"Holy fuck, you player, you."
A fist bump commenced.
"So...kids?"
"She already said wait."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, a lot of things are backwards from the usual with her."
"Like?"
"Not sure if she wants kids, stalks me to keep me alive in PvE, etcetera etcetera."
"Kay...is she a swallower?"
"I don't know how she puts up with it, but yeah."
"She good?"
"Oh hell yes."
"I'm jealous."
"You should be."
"You're an asshole, you know that?"
"My girlfriend slash soon to be wife has really good puppy eyes. Your point is invalid."
"How often do you guys do it?"
"Every night one of us isn't a, gone or b, utterly fucking exhausted."
"Wow. So on a good week?"
"At least seven times, provided we don't wake up early on any morning."
"She does mornings?"
"Normally, she wakes me up so we can."
"Wow."
"Yeah, she's a wow alright."
"So.....you know she's the one?"
"Yeah. I do."
"You 'just know'?"
"Eeyup."
"Is that creepy sometimes?"
"Kinda. But then she gets home and the world gets a little better."
"I see."
There was a brief period of silence before the paladin decided to turn the tables on his friend. "Alright, my turn."
Rakh sighed. "Fine, asshole."
"So how many girls have you banged?"
"I lost track a long ass time ago."
"Who was the best?"
"Ten. I'm still seeing her actually."
"Really? Gratz on that, then."
"Thanks."
"What's her favorite position?"
"You tell me Nals's and I'll tell you Ten's."
"Fine, bastard. She likes......basically, anything. She even manages to time when she gets off so it's as close as possible to me."
"Ten likes missionary."
"Shoulda known."
"Meh, next."
'NOTHING SAYS I LOVE YOU LIKE CERATIN DEATH'
Thrian was taking a nice afternoon sprint through the Jade Forests of Pandaria.
Trailed by a few dozen Hozen that meant certain death were he to stop.
As he ran he heard a few give up the chase and run back to their previous positions by the river, but not enough for him to stop and fight without being overwhelmed within seconds.
Jump over tree root. Swerve around tree trunk. Duck under tree branch. Jump, duck, and swerve. Tree, tree, and another tree.
A voice curled through his mind like a gentle, whispering breeze: When I say jump, jump.
With no choice but to obey, as he knew his legs wouldn't hold out much longer, he nodded breathlessly and kept running.
Okay........JUMP!
Wincing at the loud tone, he put all of his energy into the leap and was rather surprised when a black gauntlet latched onto his own blue one. Quest rewards in Pandaria weren't exactly paladin-specific, but meh.
Looking up, he met a pair of familiar blue eyes as they studied him, their owner pulling him up onto Spectral's back. The pegasus knickered what he assumed was a greeting and he mumbled an acknowledgement.
"Tired, Wonderboy?" Nalsia was trying not to....cry? What exactly was it that made her tone shake like a leaf, even when her smirk was as it usually always appeared to be?
He nodded and slumped against her back. "So...many...monkeys..." he managed, just barely.
She tried, a valiant effort, to laugh. She failed utterly.
"Something...wrong?" Thrian's breath decided to come back, slowly but surely, so he could question his mentor.
"No."
"You don't sound...so sure...about that," he replied.
"Fine. Yes, something's wrong."
They circled down for a landing in a particularly tall cherry tree. While he clung to the biggest branch for dear life, she swung a few away just like the Hozen did before answering the unspoken question of his.
"I worry about you sometimes. Do you intend to die? Because it seems that way."
"I...look, I don't mean to concern you. And are you stalking me?"
"I don't stalk. I dilligently observe. And I'm not concerned, I'm fucking terrified."
His brain attempted to connect the words 'Nalsia' and 'terrified'. The answer his mental calculator gave him was 'ERROR: DOES NOT COMPUTE'. "What?"
"Every time I see you running for your life, it physically hurts. Don't ask me why, it just.....does," she finished lamely. "It just does."
"Uhm what." A very intelligent answer. It deserved applause.
"I stalk you, yes. I'm going to sit back and watch you die, no."
"Why do you stalk me?"
"Personal reasons."
"How personal?"
"Very personal."
"Like...'so personal I'll get killed if I ask' personal?"
The elf sighed. "Not for you."
"How do I know?"
"Because most other people wouldn't have been rescued from the Hozen...alive, anyway."
"I see. So what are these personal reasons?"
"Nothing says 'let's talk' like certain death does it?" Nalsia idly clambered up a few branches towards telhe tree's crown, plucked a ripe cherry, and with a small pop stuck it between her lips and pulled the stem off.
"Let's talk, eh?" He watched her toss the stem over her shoulder towards the ground roughly a hundred feet below them, chewing the fruit slowly as if she didn't want another but loved them.
"If you want to. I know I make you uncomfortable sometimes, so.....yeah."
"Sometimes?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing!"
"Sure."
"So what was it we were going to be talking about?"
She at last caved it, spitting the gleaming cherry pit over the side of her branch and going for another. "You trying not to die so much before I start charging you for all the heart attacks you give me. Which is funny because a, I don't have a heart, and b, it's not beating anyway."
"I'm not actively trying to get myself killed, you know."
The Death Knight snorted. "Coulda fooled me."
"We're going to argue in circles all afternoon, aren't we."
"Probably, unless you have something else planned."
"Like what?"
"Well what were you doing before you decided death by monkeys sounded nice?"
He went to snap back irritably, but calmed his rising temper by grinding his teeth. "I was questing."
"Oh really."
"Yeah."
A few minutes of silence passed before he finally snapped. "Come down here."
"Why?"
"Because please?"
".....urgh. Fine."
She released her grip on the branch and fell right next to him.
"Now why exactly did you have come down here when I was perfectly fine up th–emmhmhmph!"
The rest of her sentence was muffled by his lips covering hers.
Her eyes had shot wide open and her ears quivered in shock, but eventually she seemed to warm up to him in a sense. She started kissing him back, at least, instead of throwing him out of the tree. That was a plus.
He broke the kiss for a breath. A light pink tinge crept into her features. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from-mmph!"
The paladins hands slammed her into the trunk, holding her down by the shoulders. "Less talk," he growled after interrupting her successfully.
She mumbled something into his mouth.
"What?" He gave her a few minutes to speak.
"Do you know what you're doing?"
"Yes."
"Why are you doing it?"
"You mean you?"
"I...um...yes, I suppose..."
"Because you're beautiful, I have an obsession with you, and you're here. Three great reasons right there."
"Wait, you wh-" CLANG!
Her gauntlets dropped onto the bark, followed by her spaulders and belt.
"I...Thrian...what exactly do you plan on..."
His mouth covered hers and she fell silent again.
He smirked as he saw the black blur jump through trees, following his path through the Jade Forest and away from the Pearlfin Jinyus' village. She hadn't openly approached him after that day with the Hozen and him being, ah, unusually forward, but he'd seen her following him now that he knew to watch.
She swung through, and hid in, the trees as fast–if not faster than–the Hozen themselves. It made her nothing more than a shadow in the background if one didn't know where to look. Which he did.
They hadn't spoken to each other, mentally or otherwise, since that day. It might've had something to do with her being pinned to a tree and–mental image begone. Go away, go away, leave me alone, pretty pretty please, he prayed, hoping the memory wouldn't spark any other regrettable actions.
'SIBLINGS'
"Ah, yes. My brother, he's so innocent sometimes it's hard to believe he's the older one." A foreign voice laughed in the foyer. For some reason it struck a bell in his mind.....a dusty bell from times long past. Shaking his head, he continued on only to realize a few paces later he was alone. He turned with a quizzical gaze to where Nalsia stood frozen.
"Are you alright?" At the sound of his voice she inhaled shakily, giving him an overly fake smile. "Fine. I'm fine." Her voice wavered slightly, but before he could enquire further on her odd behavior she brushed past him and continued on their previous course. At the top of the stairs she stopped, and he abruptly came to a halt as well in an effort to not push her down the stairs.
Standing at the bottom of said staircase was a human in black armor. He had dark brown hair, darker than his own, and tanned skin. His head whipped around as the name finally matched up: "Ian!"
A smile grew on the other man's face. "Thri! Heh, knew I'd find you he-" his expression changed to one of pained shock. Turning, he identified his mentor looking like she was fighting the urge to run from his younger brother.
The woman looked like she'd seen a ghost. "Ician?"
His brother returned the gesture. "Fyra?"
For a moment silence reigned. All the easy jovial attitude from before had been sucked into the Twisting Nether, and with it their voices. But the two didn't need voices to express themselves. Their eyes did enough of that. Confusion, shock, sadness. Those were the primaries, closely followed by fear and loneliness.
"I never thought I'd see you again," the man managed, licking his lips nervously.
"It's been a while," Nalsia agreed slowly, cautiously.
Kaylen broke the uncomfortable silence. "Nals? What's going on?" The worg looked both Death Knights over with a critical eye and whispered something to Isbel, who nodded in response.
'DAMNED'
Sylvanas sat quietly in her chair, frigidly refusing any attempts at conversation or eye contact. Head down, hood up, arms crossed, and weapons confiscated, her red eyes were seemingly attempting to burn a hole through the aged wood of the table.
On the same side as her sat Galleywix, looking thoroughly disturbed without his tool belt and gadgets; Lor'themar who behaved in a similar manner; Garrosh who was locked in a glaring contenest with Varian on the opposite side, Ji who simply looked mournfully at the serene Aysa, and Vol'jin who stared into the flames of the braziers behind them intently.
Opposite of them sat Genn, Malfurion and Tyrande, Varian and Aysa, and Velen. Flinty glares were exchanged, mental conversations were carried out.
Standing behind their leaders were Jaina Proudmoore, Grom Hellscream, Iridiae, Thrian, Rakh and Lana'thel with Requiem, Zara and Azurae with Jelekk and Moirathi Coilstrike, Kaylen and Isbel near Genn, and of course Nadia and Roan standing behind Lor'themar with looks of careful disinterest on their faces. Only one seat was empty, the seat at the head of the table.
There were two exits to the room, each door guarded by four veteran Death Knights, two on each side and one from each faction per side. Their weapons were confiscated in the name of peace, but tensions ran high and their guards knew it. One of them, an older-looking draenei, was smirking under her helm as if she sensed the conflict brewing and couldn't wait for the event or person that would be the spark in the powderkeg.
Thalanor, the Scourge Commander, strode in. "You do not speak for Arthas, lowly–" Garrosh started, only to be cut off. Thalanor's eyes had narrowed. "The king is gone. My queen will be here momentarily....and no, I do not claim to speak for her either." The blood elf huffed, turned, and walked out the way he'd come in, the troll and human saluting him smartly as he passed. Doubtless the goblin and the night elf on the other side did the same.
But they had stopped glaring at each other. Jaina broke the silence first. "Did he say...queen?" The archmage looked puzzled. "And what happened to Arthas?"
Shrugs were exchanged, and collectively the Horde and Alliance forces went back to awaiting the arrival of whomever it was they'd be speaking to. They didn't have to wait long.
The door opened once again, admitting a lone figure. She walked, in no particular hurry it seemed, to the empty chair and took her seat. "Alright then let's make this quick," Varian growled aggressively.
Garrosh snorted. "And what might you have to get back home to? Your baby girl, Varian? Your own damn fault for not having your child with you."
"And that means what exactly?" Varian nearly yelled in response. "You mean to insult my only child?"
Garrosh's mouth opened, but this mysterious queen had had quite enough.
"Silence." The command was calmly issued and easily understood. However, if one searched the queen's echoing voice they'd find an undercurrent of 'Or else'. Her gauntleted fist met the wood with a solid thunk at the same time she ended the brewing storm.
"Now that you're both done making asses of yourselves, I do believe we are gathered here for a reason."
"Not until we know who we're talking to," Jelekk snappd irritably from beside his equally annoyed wife.
"Very well then." The helmet slid off her head and was placed with a small thump on the empty table. "Hello, everybody."
Grom gaped from his standing position behind his father. "War goddess?"
A small smile flitted across her face. "Grom."
Kaylen stood frozen as the elf turned her burning blue eyes on Sylvanas. "Do not start mental conversations with me. Telepathy is no good here." The blue elf huffed and crossed her arms. "I am damned, mother. I always have been, and I always will be." Shocked glances or stares were still directed her way.
'SETTLING IN'
Medon sighed and walked into the Blue Recluse. Since not many people frequented the Mage Quarter besides mages, and not many mages drank that often, the bar saw relatively slow traffic.
Tonight was no different. He ordered his mug and went to climb the stairs, heading for his usual table overlooking the establishment. He found it already occupied, however, as the elf sighed and shook her mug slightly before laying her cheek on her palm, her hair falling over her shoulder.
The silky strands glimmered like raven feathers as they moved, shining in the lamp and candle light. He shook his head and stepped forward, unwilling to turn and walk away from his usual seat. "Are you expecting somebody?"
Her ear flicked out, and then her head turned. Purple eyes gazed at him curiously, framed by a very familiar face. "F-fyra?"
She nodded amusedly. "Well, since the person I was expecting has decided to show himself, no. I'm no longer expecting anybody."
"But....you're Horde!" he hissed quietly, urgency in his tone. "We have to get you out of he–"
"Ah, Lady Goldenblade." A strong voice cut in from behind him. "Sir Frostwhisper."
Varian Wrynn stepped around him and bowed to the elven paladin, who in turn rose from her seat and returned the gesture. "King Wrynn. What a surprise."
The king and the woman eyed each other for a moment before the tension broke silently. "So how's Vivian been doing in the raids?" Varian enquired curiously, gratefully accepting the mug she passed him. Fyra made a gesture universally known as 'Awesome' and took a sip of her own. "She's been doing excellent, certainly better than I have," the elf confessed with a smile.
"Medon, are you sitting or what?" Her gaze slid back to him and he quickly took the remaining empty chair for his own. "What...how...she's a..." he coulsdn't form a full sentence, it seemed.
"She has been accepted as one of ours, Frostwhisper," Varian answered with a slightly bemused grin, "You can stand down now. Speaking of which," he directed the conversation back at Fyra, "Have you found a place to stay yet?"
She shook her head. "Not yet, but I will soon. After all, how hard can it be to find a flat in a city full of them?"
His attention, and his glowing blue eyes, snapped from his drink to his former student. "Wait, you don't have a place to crash?" She shook her head. "Well, I have a spare room at my house until you can find someplace else, if you need it."
"Thanks," she answered, "I might have to take you up on that."
"Ah well," Varian said, standing, "The city doesn't run itself, you know. I'm sure you'll understand..." his voice dropped to a whisper, "Princess Windrunner."
She nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly, and watched the king leave. Medon chose that exact time to let all his questions bubble up. "Okay...in order: did you switch factions, how do you know the king, how did you know I came to this bar, and how did you get here?"
"Okay, in order," she replied, smirking, "Yes, through Vivian, rumors, and faction change."
"Why did he call you a princess and why did he call you Windrunner?"
"Because my mother is Sylvanas and my father is Lor'themar."
He choked on his beer. "What did you just say?"
"You heard me."
"Oh this is going to be a long night," he groaned.
He waved his hand at the door before unlocking it and walking in, her following close behind. "Home sweet home."
She laughed and closed the door behind them, stripping off her plate to put it up for the night. However that just immensely distracted him, because all she wore underneath was a corset and a pair of really tight pants. And she did have some nice curves...FOCUS!
"So, you'll be sleeping here, I guess," he said, motioning for her to follow him and opening the door to the spare room. It was, in actuality, a very nice room, what with the large window-seat overlooking the sun setting behind the Cathedral. It had an adjoining bathroom and a walk-in closet, and a twin bed. Why was he overanalyzing what he'd seen a million times?
Fyra bounced past him with her armor folded in her arms, hanging it in the closet. He abruptly realized why he was overanalyzing anything but his former apprentice and managed to change his look from 'I'm staring at a girl I know really well because I didn't know what she was like under the armor' to 'I'm just helping a friend settle into my spare room' before she turned around. "Thanks again, Knighty," she said, "I really owe you this time."
He smirked. "I'm sure we'll be able to work something out."
"Well, what are you thinking?" her words made him freeze. If he said what he was thinking she'd most likely kill him. "Did you just...?"
She burst out laughing, collapsing into the wall and sliding down. "I...ahahahahaha.....you look so confused, hahahahahaha, what were you thinking? Heehehahaha!"
He frowned and waited for her to stand up before poking her in the side, sharply. She squeaked in laughter and tried to get away, but he grabbed her sides and started tickling them. "What," he asked, "I thought you like laughing at me?"
"Ahanahahahahanope," she managed, her eyes squeezed shut and gasping for breath, "Justhaheeheehahalet me gohahahahahahah!"
"No."
"Plehehehease?"
"No."
"What do you wahahahahahant?" She twisted, just short of screaming, in his grip.
"Tough question," he answered, trying to buy himself more time as his fingers attacked her ribs.
"Whahahahat about–hehehehah!–this?"
"What's 'this'?" He stopped and allowed her to drop, gasping for breath on the floor. A few minutes later she stood and faced him. "This, is this." She leaned forward and kissed him.
His brain stopped working for a few minutes. "The fuck just happened to me?"
"You froze." she answered. "True story, I was there."
He laughed uncertainly before turning to go. "Yeah....sleep well."
"You too," she replied as he closed the door.
Medon slammed his head into his pillow. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no," he chanted under his breath. "No Fyra. Nooo Fyra." He tried to think of cutesie things, like bunnies. Yes. Fluffy little bunnies. In a meadow filled with flowers. Fyra sitting on the grass in the field with a bunny in her arms. No!
A beach. Yes. Waves crashing against the sand. So far so good. Fyra sitting on the sand. In a bikini. No! "Oh god damnit," he groaned, "Why did she have to kiss me? Why?"
Ever since earlier he'd been unable to think of anything but the elf. She was probably asleep by now, and had been for a long time, but he'd been unable to still the storm in his mind. Why had she kissed him? Was she just that desperate for him to stop? Why did he feel like he had a bird trapped in his stomach? What the hell was wrong with him?
He slammed his head into the pillow again. "Damn her to hell. Damn. Her."
Medon woke up to the scent of...bacon? He thought back to last night.....think, think, thi–oh.
He felt a small amount of color leech into his white face as his memories decided to let him know that he'd fallen asleep...ah...his hand needed washing. Definitely has nothing to do with that vision of Fyra he'd gotten a few hours after his many failed attempts to go to sleep, her sweet innocent lips wrapped around his–NO! Oh hell no.
Smacking himself with the un-dirtied hand, he got up and proceeded to thoroughly wash the other one. Then submerged his face in cold water until the biting chill took away his very vivid vision. Allowing himself the free rein for a minute, he stopped even trying to be polite in his thoughts.
Well, it was no surprise his mental image of her sucking him off came with feelings. It wasn't the first 'job he'd gotten. No, that'd been a Night Elf rogue.....and he was distracted again. "Damnit!" He threw his pillow at the wall before going to throw on a pair of pants, at least, before venturing out of his room and into the almost intoxicatingly bacon-scented house.
He heard a small hum that grew in volume and eventually became words as he slowly came closer to the voice's owner. "Set me free, your heaven's a lie, set me free with your love, set me free, yeah," he rounded the corner and found Fyra was the source of both the sound and the scent.
She expertly flipped the pancake up in the air and turned, her ponytail flipping itself over her shoulder, and stirred around the bacon some more. It crackled and hissed at her, but she didn't seem to mind, dumping it out of the pan and onto a waiting plate as fast as she could without making a mess.
Soon enough the pancakes found themselves on another plate, and the minute she seemed to be taking a breath and generally standing still for a moment he took his clear shot and picked her up in a bear hug. She squeaked in shock, and her ribs being crushed, but relaxed as she figured out that she wasn't going anywhere until he decided to put her down.
Medon didn't hold her for very long though. "So," she said with a warm smile, "I made breakfast."
He nodded. "I can see that."
Without another word, they carried a plate each into the dining room and tucked in. The silence reigned until he looked upat her from his plate. "This is damn good," he informed her seriously.
She laughed. "Thanks. Cooking was one of the few tings my father actually taught me." Pain flashed across her face, followed by her tone lowering. "Right before mother kicked me out for becoming a paladin."
He stayed silent and Fyra regained control of her emotions. "At any rate, I'm glad you think so."
"So....what are you doing today anyway?" She looked away at his question. "Nothing, actually. I didn't plan that far ahead. I was sure Varian would kick me back to Orgrimmar."
He winced. "I never expected to see you in Stormwind, either."
She laughed. "Me either. But it's a nice city your people have here, much better than..Orgrimmar..." she trailed off, sighing.
"What's the problem?" As if compensating for his earlier deadly sin of sticking her in his mind as a temptress, his mind's little voice stayed silent and allowed him to express concern without talking back.
She rose from the table and paced over to the window, sighing again. "I don't miss the Horde. And I definitely don't miss Orgrimmar. But I left two very important people behind when I came here....my little sisters. Ashan and Xaeoria...they're only five and three. I couldn't bring them with me....so I left them with my parents just to spite them." She rubbed her face with her hands, and it occured to him that Fyra was, after all, only 190 years old. Nineteen years for an elf like themselves, versus his much more level-headed 260.
"Well," he started, "It's not like I'm having the idea to use orbs of deception and sneak into Orgrimmar to find your sisters and steal them, and I'm definitely not thinking about how they could also crash here with us," by this time he'd left his chair and was right next to her, gazing over the Trade Quarter and its usual hustle and bustle.
The next thing he knew she was firmly stuck to his side, her arms around him and laughing lightly. "Sweet Sunwell sometimes I swear I love you."
Medon's curious glowing gaze affixed itself to her. "Only sometimes?"
She laughed harder, stepping around him slightly so she was now in front of him directly. Her eyes sparkled as she leaned in closer, for some reason smelling of honeysuckle. An inch from his lips, she murmured, "Okay, maybe more then sometimes," and kissed him. It was an unusually bold move for his usually timid student, or former student anyway, and it shocked him to the core.
"I..Fyra, I was joking," he stammered as she broke the kiss. She pouted adorably at him. "Well I wasn't."
He stood stock still for a moment, then started smirking. "Well in that case..."
Grabbing her by the waist, he pushed her up against the wall and kissed her fiercely. It might've been her pheromones at the moment, or it might've been being kissed twice within thirteen hours, or it might've been how she looked in her PJs, but he needed her.
Fyra rolled out of his bed, carefully tucking his arm back by his side so he hopefulyy wouldn't notice her absence, and armored up. The faint smile on Medon's sleeping face was enough to tell her that he'd rather enjoyed the last hour and a half, and even though she was somewhat tired herself the thought of getting her sisters energized her.
She scribbled off a quick note and stuck it on the door to his bedroom before closing said door behind herself, whistling for Amber as she tucked the orb into her pack.
The flight to Silvermoon would be fairly long from Stormwind, but she trusted the pegasus to pace herself and be able to get them both there and back before Medon gave chase.
Three hours later saw her landing near the carefully-monitored bridge and switching her gear. By dressing as a priest she had a cowl, a mask, and was fully-covered everywhere else as well.
Striding confidently in through the Shepherd's Gate, she made steady progress towards the Court of the Sun, where the Inner Sanctum was located.
One of the guards stopped her on the way, his flaxen hair flashing in the sun as he gave her a blinding smile. "Hey there, cutie."
She smiled back prettily, batting her eyelashes a few times for good measure, and saw the subtle changes in his demeanor.
His smile dipped into a high-setting seductive smirk. In answer, she bit her lower lip and looked down shyly, scuffing her foot under her robe. "So, what's your name?"
His question didn't break her careful facade at all. "My name is Thalia. Yours?" See, now that wasn't a complete lie. Her full name was Fyra Thalia Ishanas Windrunner-Theron, due to some disagreements on her names by her parents. But few knew of her middle names, and as such it was perfect cover for such an occaision.
"Callorean. But you, babe, you can call me Cal." His smile hadn't dimmed, and his arm had snuck its way around her waist. She gave him her own trademark smirk, the one that could be used to tame feral animals and men alike.
She shifted ever so slightly, 'accidentally' grinding her hip into his. She caught the slight breath intake but showed no sign of it, other than blinking up at him innocently. "I was going to the Inner Sanctum, I have an appointment in the Undercity to keep after all. But maybe after that, if it's not too late by then...?"
Her unspoken question was answered with a tight nod and the smirk growing only wider. "But of course, what kind of guard would I be if I left a lovely woman to walk through Murder Row all on her own?"
Her eye twitching, she accepted his hand and tried not to show her irritation.
Cal's hand dusted across her left breast. She squeaked in shock, his fingers flicking her sensitive nipple through the cloth, and he smile apologetically. "Sorry. You had a bit of dirt on your robes, Thalia."
She giggled softly. "Now we can't have that, can we?" Mentally, she assigned Cal some impolite names.
As he saluted her and handed her the paper with his address on it, she turned and made to use the Translocation orb. As soon as he was out of the tower, Fyra stopped the cast dangerously close to completion and slipped down a side hall towards the nursery where her sisters were kept.
Se poked her head around the doorframe and was shocked to see another Blood Elf already in the room with her baby sisters, reading them a storybook? That she was. Fyra barely caught the words "The end." before the other woman closed the leather-bound tome, tucked the girls in, and blew out the candle.
Her auburn hair swirled around her face as she turned and caught sight of Fyra. "D-deanna?"
"Fyra!" The other elf said happily, bustling over to give her a hug. "Did you come back for your sisters?"
She shook her head seriously, her happy demeanor fading. "I'm sorry, but I'm actually here to take them."
Deanna nodded thoughtfully, then stopped and grasped Fyra by the shoulders. "Take me with you," she begged. "Ever since you left Sylvanas has gotten worse and worse. I can't live with it anymore. Either kill me or take me with you, please!"
Fyra patted her friend on the back. "Relax. Just help me get Ash and Ria out of here, and you're free to come with me if you want to."
Deanna squealed happily, then wrapped her arms around both of the little girls' sleeping bodies and touched her hand to Fyra's. The room lit up green as the black-haired elf activated her Hearthstone, and all four of them vanished into the night.
'TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN'
To whom it may or may not concern,
Fyra. It's Zephros. Yeah...just read this list I have helpfully included.
Rakh: Gone
Torel: Passed out
Me: Buzzed but apparently doing pretty good
Roan: Shadow shifted and smashed
Medon: Completely drunk off his ass and talking about you
Krij: Hitting on some random chick
She blinked. Completely drunk off his ass and talking about me? Well that was interesting.
The elf quickly slipped into her black dress and as an afterthought belted on two Netherblade Slicers, just in case. Throwing her hair into its signature ponytail as fast as she could without making it look hurried, she ran from her room.
She walked as casually as possible into their corner setup, trying not to look out if place and apparently succeeding. Fyra slid into an empty seat next to her mentor, who apparently still hadn't noticed her yet.
"And she...and then she....and then, she goesh and makesh that cute scrunched face while she'sh looking at it," Medon was slurring to Roan, who was sitting next to him in demon form.
Zephros nodded to her but made no comment other than mouthing 'Listen to him' before turning back to his carefully nursed mug.
"An..an she...damn this is good shtuff, she kicksh it sho hard it shplinters and then shayssh 'Oopsh'." Apparently, her teacher no longer knew how to correctly pronounce any word involving an 'S'.
Roan laughed drunkenly. "Well she can be pretty damn cute when she wantsh to be," the warlock commented, "But we all know you've got your eyesh on her already sho I won't try anything."
"Aw shaddup," the death knight slurred. "It'd be un....unpro.....wrong," he finally managed. "Very very ungood. Beshidesh, she'd probably kill me if I tried anything anywaysh."
'Are they talking about me?' she mouthed to the priest, slowly growing more and more concerned. Zephros nodded back and she paled ever so slightly. Then she waved for the bartender. I need a drink, was her only current thought. Ordering her drink and watching the man go about preparing it, she heard somebody walk up behind her. Only seconds later hands affixed themselves on her shoulders and spun her around.
Holding her was a slightly tipsy-looking Fel Elf. "Hey there, cutie–" she cut him off with a sharp smack across the face. "Not interested," was her cold reply before she accepted her drink from the shocked-looking bartender. "Uhm," the man started nervously, "That might not have been such a good idea...."
The other elf yanked her out of her chair. "You want a piece of me, bitch?"
She cracked him across the face again and drew the wicked knives. "You want a curb stomping, fucker?"
He laughed at her. "Oh look at the cute little lady playing hero. So adora–"
"FUCK YOU!" she yelled, doing her improvised three pivot kick and sending him flying. He landed fifteen feet away with a groan before getting up. "This isn't over," he hissed, turning to leave before her reply was even out of her mouth.
"I didn't expect it to be." The door closed.
A few other women present cheered. Then the normal bustle resumed, the trouble past.
She turned and sat down, pounding back the rest of her drink and going to order another one. When offered the correct amount of coin, he shook his head. "On the house, miss. That man you just told off was one of our troublemakers."
She smiled. "Glad I could help."
Medon choked something.
She smiled sweetly. "What was that?"
He blushed, something that astonished her. "I..er..that ish to shay...damn I'm washted...."
Fyra leaned into his shoulder, and his face went even more red. "So you think I'm cute, huh?"
His glowing blue eyes went wide. He attempted to stutter something but failed miserably.
"Now that," she commented, leaning closer, "Was cute." Her lips made contact with his cheek and he froze. Roan choked on his drink and Zephros stared at her like one would a Helboar in Ammen Vale.
"Looks like you made a human statue there, girlie," the barman commented as he delivered her next drink. "I know," she replied calmly, "But he had it coming. This is what happens when you get completely hammered while trying to keep secrets."
The man laughed and went to polish a few unused glasses. Roan blinked and then grinned like crazy. Zephros just shook his head with a sigh and pulled out another piece of paper from somewhere on his person, scribbling on it slowly with a quill he also pulled from seemingly thin air.
"So Fyra," the warlock drawled, "You just teasing him or what?"
In answer the paladin poked the human in the shoulder until he unfroze, which took around a few minutes with five pokes per seven seconds. "The hell just happ–"
She kissed him fully this time, and his eyes went even wider than before and he made a small squeaking noise in shock. Zephros accidentally spit some of his ale onto the counter and offered an apologetic look to the bartender, who shot the Anglican a dirty look as he wiped it up.
She pulled back and Roan carefully closed his seemingly unhinged jaw. "Well that clears that up."
"SCORE!" shouted Krij from around ten yards away.
Medon was once again playing statue, so she went back to her drink.
"Fyra...." he seemed to regain control of his voice, at least, "That was just mean."
"It was?" she asked curiously.
"Yes," he grumbled, "It was."
Sliding off her stool and onto his, she sat on his lap and once again noted him going still. "You need to stop freezing up," she observed.
"DUDE, SCORE!" Krij once again shouted.
"SHUT UP KRIJ!" she yelled back.
Amazingly, the drunk man shut up.
The dress was slit up the sides to allow full unhindered movement, and she took advantage of this and showed off as much skin as she could by sitting just so on his leg.
"So this isn't mean?" she murmured.
"No," he managed back with a decidedly dry-mouthed tone of voice, "It is."
She licked her lips, almost predatorily so. "And?"
He said nothing.
"Cause I think you need to come with me so we can talk about a few things," she muttered, her sultry tone changing to a low growl as she slid back into her own seat.
He almost stopped himself from giving a small whine of protest...almost. "Well...we need to get out of here period."
They disappeared as she teleported them over half a city away to Blackwind Manor.
Once there, she shucked off the dress, extremely thankful for wearing her underclothes beneath. Vaguely aware of Medon trying not to stare at her nearly naked figure and failing miserably, she was back into her tank top and pants within a matter of minutes.
"Okay, mister," she growled, "Explain. Now."
She cast cleanse on them both and he blinked. "I...uhm....you're really beautiful right now, you know that?" Despite being sober now, he seemed very distracted in the absence of one of her usual fully-covering outfits.
She smirked and slipped around behind him, "Cooperate with me and it'll get better," and he froze. "What did you just say?"
"I said," she murmured directly into his ear, causing him to shudder, "It'll get better if you explain everything that happened in the past half hour."
"I...I might have always thought you were a little cute," he confessed.
Surprisingly, she shrugged. "Good enough for me."
She kissed him again, but slower this time. "Fyra..." he said, as she took a breath.
"What is it?"
"Are you a..er...."
"Who, me? No. You?"
"Well, you're my first if that's what you're asking."
She looked at him, shocked for a minute, then smiled. "It's okay with me if it's okay with you."
He laughed lightly. "I think being drunk let me talk a lot easier," he mumbled sheepishly.
"Don't worry," she kept walking backwards slowly, "You can have me if you can catch me." Then she turned and ran, her footfalls making no noise.
Cursing and stuffing his plate into its cabinet, he gave chase and caught up to her at the door to his room, tackling her to the floor. She was laughing, eyeing him amusedly as he looked down at her and wondered what was going to happen. Thanking his foresight for the soundproofing wars that layered all the rooms in Blackwind, he kissed her this time.
She nodded approvingly, squirming out from underneath him like a snake. "You learn fast."
He grinned at her. "Hey, weren't we doing something?"
"Oh yeah," she mused, knocking him backwards into his bed, "We were."
The next morning he was cuddled up against something warm. Remembering the night before he smiled, blushing slightly, and looked down at Fyra.
Curled into his chest, most of her leanly-muscled figure was hidden under the blanket. His mind filled in the blanks, though. She mumbled something as she woke up slowly, yawning and curling even further into him before shivering violently. "God damnit you're cold!" she hissed, scooching back slightly.
He laughed, sitting up and letting the comforter slide off his chest. Idly he remembered how she'd run her hands across the muscles, tracing every scar with her burning fingers, murmuring softl-damn, that was really going to distract him.
"Side effect of being dead," he answered with amusement in his tone. She smiled and laid back into him, suppressing shiversas her head rested on his arm. "For me being your first...." she said at last, "You were pretty damn good."
He laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment, then. What do you want for breakfast?"
She looked up, her amethyst eyes half-open. "I don't care what, but after we should probably go find the guys and see aboout helping them with their hangovers."
He swore and got up, dressing hurriedly. She laughed but rose as well, following him down to the kitchen.
An hour later saw them shaking Krij, but to no avail. The man just wouldn't wake up. Fyra took a casting position. "Holy shock, incoming!"
A zap noise alerted her to her success, moments before she cast cleanse and then dove out of the way as he flew upwards, shaking his head wildly. "WHOWHATWHERETHEFUCK?" noticing them, he stopped. "Oh hey guys."
Medon laughed. "Hey Krij, you know where Rakh is?"
The other male nodded. "Yeah, he walked out with some triplets."
'SHE'S MINE'
Medon knew Fyra would be furious if he didn't let her fight her own battles. But that bastard hitting on her had already flexed his bulging muscles three times, did he expect it to change her mind?
He watched her sarcastically tell the man off, most likely with a biting retort, and stilled her sharp tongue to return to her drink. The man he'd previously mentioned was a human like himself, which disgusted him. Dark brown hair, un-glowing eyes. He didn't know the man, and if he did he couldn't put a name to him.
Cycling through a few possible names, he decided that he'd never met this particular man before, which he was sort of glad about.
Looking up, his temper flared as the unknown man dragged Fyra, surprisingly not screaming for help, out the door into an alley behind the bar. Now thoroughly pissed off, he ignored the bartender's sympathetic look and stormed after them.
"I said I wasn't interested you–"
A calloused hand interrupted her from continuing that insult while its partner held her wrists together. "And I told you that no isn't an answer."
Seeing red, which was funny because his eyes were blue, by now, he walked over and smacked the man upside the head so hard he went sprawling. As it–this man no longer qualified as a human being, he decided–looked up at him, he bared his fangs.
"Fuck off," he hissed, "She's mine."
He saw her shocked expression out of the corner of his eyes, but was too busy too busy sending the man off in a more-or-less friendly way. After the last punch had been dealt the other man spit a tooth and some blood at him and staggered away into a shadowed alley.
"You didn't have to do that,"
'HE'S TAKEN'
She observed the woman more or less trying to sit in his lap. A small bubble of rage floated up inside her, but she took her mental powers and popped it.
Only if the woman actually did try anything funny with poor Thrian would she let her temper loose. Shaking her head, Nalsia took a long look at the woman and absorbed as many details as she could just in case she'd need them later. The woman was a Blood Elf, of that much she was sure. An auburn cascade of hair that swirled around her finely chiseled face as she tugged Thrian out the door–yep, Nalsia was pissed.
She flung the door open and walked out. The other elf had her apprentice cornered in an alleyway. He seemed to be trying not to harm her and trying to get away at the same time, which wasn't working so well.
Yes, she had seen quite enough as the woman went to go down on her knees. Shs stormed over and cuffed the other woman upside the head so hard she went sprawling. "Back off," she spat, "He's taken."
As if sensing her bluff and deciding it would be a good idea to play along, Thrian looped an arm around her waist. The other elf simply laughed. "Oh hun, you just had to say you already had a woman."
Then she swayed back to the bar's back entrance and walked through the door unhindered. It slammed shut, leaving them alone in the backalley.
After a few minutes he still hadn't moved his arm. "......Thrian?"
"Yes?"
"How much have you had to drink tonight?"
He laughed and pulled her into him. "Quite enough, that's for sure."
"I suppose you probably want to get back to the Chantry then, so you can be ready for the tryouts."
"Nope."
"Well goodbye then–wait, what?"
"I'm taken, remember?"
"It was a bluff, Thrian. A bluff that ended up saving your ass from some BE nympho."
"Was that really all it was? Is that all it has to be?"
She swallowed. "No...."
"Good. And if Lady Elronia doesn't like it, she can go and tapdance on it."
She hugged him. "God, what is it with you and your tapdancing?"
'INNOCENT GAMES'
"Looks dangerous." Nalsia observed, scanning the darkened cavern with a decidedly calculating look. Behind her stood Thrian, Valeera Sanguinar, and Vereesa Windrunner.
"Wherever you lead, I will follow." Thrian stated, drawing his sword and shield and stepping up next to her.
Vereesa laughed childishly. "I as well."
"And me!" Valeera added. "Don't forget me!"
The four plastic figures looked and each other and burst into laughter. After they'd calmed, they descended into the 'gaping chasm' known as behind the bed.
Half an hour later Thrian was sitting on top of a shelf with Nalsia. "I was worried about you."
The elf shook her head stiffly. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. I'm not an easy person to keep tabs on."
He waved his plated hand. "Ridiculous. It can't possibly be that hard."
"Yes, it can....."
"No, it can't..."
The two were nose to nose, exchanging flinty glares. After a few minutes they seemingly noted the close proximity they were in and resolutely looked away from each other.
"Well, anyway, we should probably get back to Val and Vee." Nalsia stood at his words. "Of course," she murmured, her eyes far away as though her mind wasn't entirely there.
He followed her down the cliff, surprised at how far away she looked. "What is it?"
She shook her head and blinked, quickening her pace. "Nothing. Just thinking is all."
"About what?" he pried, surprised when she stopped completely. Without turning, she whispered, "What do you know about love?"
An interesting question. "Well.....not much. Only one before...but she was never true."
"I know nothing of it, and yet it hounds me." she admitted, still looking over the darkened land. "Starting not too long ago and growing only atronger as time has gone on."
He gently lifted a hand and placed it on her shoulder. "If I may ask, who is this lucky man?"
She finally turned around to face him. Then she gave him a short kiss.
Thrian's face was red. His eye twitched. Vinyia looked up from her Nalsia figurine to her adoptive father/uncle/brother and back. "Oopsies." Then she giggled quietly.
Nalsia poked her head in and caught the tail end of the scene with her own eyes. "Now what in the name of the light is going on in–" she took into stock the red on her former apprentice's face and what exactly the dolls had been controlled into doing.
Striding in, she poked Thrian in the back. "Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey hey hey. Hey hey heyheyheyhey."
He finally snapped out of his trance and whirled, still slightly flushed but now mostly annoyed. "What?" he hissed.
She kissed him. He re-froze. "Uhm what."
Nalsia laughed and winked at Vinyia and Nickolaus before turning on her heel and exiting the room. As soon as she was out of sight, the man shook himself. "Hey!" he yelled, giving chase, "Get back here!"
'ENOUGH'
"So, you wanna know how it feels to fly?" Medon went to open his mouth but thought better of it when Fyra stood.
"Alright that's it. That is quite e-fucking-nough. Shut the hell up and listen closely, or I will knock you into next week." Her outburst didn't seem to startle her, even though it did everybody else in a close proximity. Her right eye twitched erratically and her fierce glare made Rakh shrink away from the burn it inflicted.
"I have had enough of your little game. I played along for longer than I wanted to, which was actually about five seconds after I first met you, but that time has come to an end. Leave me the hell alone or I swear by the light I will fucking break you." Her heated message delivered, she sat down and went back to her book.
The rogue squeaked "Point taken." and retreated, exiting the room.
There was silence for several minutes. Then Roan: "Did that really just happen? Cause I mean holy fuck."
Zephros glanced over at the warlock. "I saw it too, so either we're both hallucinating or Fyra just got majorly pissed."
Medon took this as his cue to cut in. "Somebody go get me some cold water. I mean, she wasn't even pissed of at me and I still got burned."
She smirked at her book but kept reading.
"What the hell just happened?" Marrah poked her head into the room. "Rakh's in a corner, curled up in a ball and muttering about paladins and a painful death."
Anaras replied. "Well, I myself am not entirely sure, but if I'm percieving this correctly Fyra's temper finally snapped and she gave him a verbal lashing he won't soon forget."
The blue dragon blinked. Then broke into laughter. "Fucking awesome," she gasped in between giggles, "I would've paid to see that!"
Fyra's smirk was growing jagged. She looked about ready but not quite inclined to laugh, so Medon poked her. "Hey!" she exclaimed, poking him back.
Marrah rose from the floor she'd been rolling on and sighed. "A shame I missed it, really, but I thought I had a tank for Bloodcrown Halls sitting somewhere in this room."
Fyra jumped up from the couch, plate clanking. "Oh sweet Sunwell we're late come on!"
Dragging the dragonkin huntress out the door, she made her exit.
'FACING THE TRUTH'
Dinner was, in retrospect, as delicious as usual. However it tasted like ash on her tongue whenever she thought about what they'd swore to say in front of their friends, and that night.
She idly twisted her ring finger, the smooth band of metal concealed perfectly by her plated gauntlet. The ring in question was beautiful yet practical, perfect for its wearer, being forged of gold but inscribed with dimly glowing blue runes. These runes, apparently, spelled a message in a different language.
Kaylen glanced over at her. "Hey, why are you so quiet tonight? It's not like you."
Tenebra looked up from her conversation with Rakh. Laeini, Zephros, Roan, and Ian turned their eyes to the exchange as well.
She almost dismissed the question with a wave of her hand but was stopped when another hand covered hers. Fyra felt the weight of her glove disappearing and then Kaylen gaped. "I...you...wait, what?"
Marrah laughed. "And you said nothing was going on with those two," she nudged Hadriana in the side. The other woman simply stared with her eyes widened.
On her finger, the light filling the rune carvings pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Medon's quiet repressed laughter at the heat being on her made her throw a casual remark: "Why don't you tell them when, dear?" The last word she nearly hissed, clearly expressing what she felt at the moment.
His amused disposition fell. "Two months," he managed in between grinding his teeth together.
Marrah rolled out of her chair laughing.
~Two months later~
"I do."
With those words, it became official.
The age-old words 'You may now kiss the bride' were lost in their friends' enthusiastic cheers. They didn't need to hear them, however, to know the ceremony was over.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. She returned the favor, sparkling eyes closing momentarily.
Zephros smiled, his blessing as High Priest already having been placed on them as they walked out, hand in hand.
It hadn't exactly been conventional, as far as weddings go. For one, the bride, one Knight-Commander Fyra Goldenblade, had not worn a dress. Instead she'd gone for her Chantry plate, polished to a gleaming finish. Her husband, Medon Frostwhisper, had gone the same route. No suit.
Two, there hadn't been much in the way of decoration. 'Just do whatever you normally do to it' hadn't given Zephros and Laeini much to work with. Ian's suggestion of using grey due to it being halfway between black and white had helped, but not by far.
Fyra tossed the single rose she'd been carrying the entire time and smirked when it landed in her sister Ashan's hands. The younger paladin stuck her tongue out at her and she laughed.
~Back at home~
"Hey, aren't you supposed to carry her?" Ian asked as they entered the house.
Fyra laughed. "I'd like to see him tr–oh why did I say anything." She applied her hand to her face with a small 'Ow.' as she was lifted off the ground.
Marrah kept laughing, trading bets with Isbel.
Their happy dispositions were crushed when a three-toned voice interrupted. "Iru'elas Windrunner, or should I say Goldenblade, or possibly Frostwhisper now?"
All the color drained from Fyra's face. Then returned with a look of burning rage that nobody present had ever been graced with the displeasure of witnessing before. "That...is not....my name," she managed, quietly.
The voice replied. "I was present when your father named you, child, and I will continue to address you as such. At any rate. I must speak with you. Now."
Medon whirled to address whoever was ordering his new wife around and froze. Sylvanas Windrunner, along with Lor'themar Theron, stood in the doorway to an adjoining room. But in his lack of words, Fyra had quite enough to fill the silence.
"Youbitch," she spat vehemently, "You have no place in my life. You may be my mother by blood, but aunt Vee took me in when you kicked me out. And all because I decided to become a paladin. Now suddenly I pick up the pieces and move on, find somebody that actually cares about me, and you have an objection?"
She took a step forward, Sylvanas took one back. "Well guess what? Fuck you. If you have a problem with it, you can go running to Nathanos like you always do when Lor'themar isn't around! I hate you, for everything you've ever done to me and even things you haven't done to me! In fact," her tone lowered itself again and established a much more cordial and curt type of speaking, "I have this to prove it."
A scroll popped into existence by the Banshee Queen, who snatched it out of the air and tore it open. "By the order of his royal higness King Varian Wrynn, the paladin known as Fyra Goldenblade has been accepted into the Alliance. Starting on Wednesday the seventeenth of June, she will be allowed into all Ally cities and outposts unhindered and unchallenged even when alone."
Red eyes bored into the paper like they wanted to set it on fire. "Blah blah blah royal decree....ah hah! P. S. Gratz Fyra! From Vivian."
Sylvanas screeched in frustration and tore it cleanly in half dropping the two pieces and letting them flutter to the floor. "How could you?" she hissed, "You have betrayed the Horde! You have betrayed your people! You have betrayed your own family, even! I denounce you. Keep your designation as a Goldenblade. You have earned it through your lies and deceit."
With that, the blue elf stormed out of the house and into the streets. Lor'themar went to say something, but Fyra raised a hand to cut him off. "Father...just don't. We both knew this would happen some day. You knew, I could tell, that I'd never 'come to my senses' as she put it."
The Regent Lord nodded solemnly. "I will not be as drastic as your mother, but from this day forth we are enemies. Congratulations, my daughter. Enjoy your life while you have it."
He left to follow Sylvanas, closing the door softly behind himself.
In the stunned silence afterwards, he saw Fyra's hand twitching. "AARRRGH!" with a scream, she put her fist in the wall and left a small, knuckle-shaped dent. She shook her hand slightly with a hiss of pain, but somebody else beat him to her.
"Settle down now, alright?" With a supportive pat on the back, his mother's sharp emerald eyes pierced Fyra's own. "They've left."
Looking unsure of how to respond, the elf nodded. Then squeaked slightly as the older and slightly shorter woman hugged her–or attempted to snap her spine, with his mother he was never sure.
Ian gave their dad a high-five as he walked out of the room behind their mother. "So," Fyra gasped, finally sucking in air as Trynna Frostwhisper let her go, "What exactly happened in there before we got here?"
"You didn't miss much," Gavrin Frostwhisper replied, "Her royal bitchiness insulted the family line, but then you and our sons got here. So once again, not much."
Fyra laughed. "Royal bitchiness...I'm going to have to remember that one for lat–did you say she insulted your family?"
Gavrin raised an eyebrow, but nodded.
Her tone turned sickeningly sweet all of a sudden. "Ian, Medon, Marrah, Kaylen, Laeini, who's up for an Undercity raid on tuesday?"
Trynna laughed. "My you got a good one, dear."
Medon shook his head. "Actually, she kind of got me..."
"Yeah, but still," Gavrin clapped a hand on his son's shoulder, "Great job."
Marrah resumed her laughing spree as conversation went on.
'FAMILY'
Trynna sighed and shifted in her chair. "It's nothing."
But Medon was not about to give up so easily, especially when the depressed person was his own mother. "Mom...."
The woman threw up her hands in exasperation. "Fine! Light, what was I thinking when I taught you to notice little things?" She shook her head and rose from her seat. "Walk with me, dear."
He too stood and padded obediently after the ageing human priest, who led him into the foyer of his mansion. In the large room, their family and friends had gathered like they always did every afternoon for dinner and possibly a few drinks. With a quick, cursory glance, he identified Marrah chatting with Roan and Jezebeth, Rakh sitting with Tenebra nearly on top of him, Ian and Ashan laughing at something Xaeoria had said, Zephros and Laeini calmly discussing something or other, and lastly...Fyra watching Genesis play with Onyx.
His wife had a bright smile on her face as the energetic three year old giggled and squealed while jumping and rolling on the great cat. The cat in question rumbled a purr and gently batted at the baby with its front paw.
Realizing his mother had turned back to him, he snapped his gaze to her guiltily. "Sorry," he mumbled, embarassed.
The woman beamed at him. "That's it. Both my little boys have moved on. You have a wife and a beautiful baby girl, my lovely little Genesis. Ian has a girlfriend and his position as guild leader." Shaking her head, she continued. "I'm just here to be here, at this point. Gavrin...." a tear slid down her cheek, but she wiped it away. "Your father is gone. He made Elysium, I'm sure, but I just want to see him again..." Trynna was barely able to finish her sentence before she broke into quiet sobs.
He held her, murmuring softly. "Hey, mom, it's fine. Dad would want you to be happy. You're just as important as Fyra, even more important than me. You belong here, mom."
"We need you, Trynna. You're as much a part of our family as Genesis and that counts for something much more than you acknowledge. Gavrin wanted you to be happy, that's all he ever wanted from what I knew of him. So honor your husband. Be happy. For you, for us....for him."
Fyra came up to his shoulder, her pep rant finished. Trynna looked at her daughter in law and crushed her in a hug, which the elf gently reciprocated with an equally soft smile. "Come on. It's been...what, three hours since Gen saw her gramma?"
Trynna gave a mock gasp. "Oh no! I'm late!" She bustled down the stairs with motherly intent, zeroing in on Genesis. As soon as Onyx noticed the elderly woman, he nudged Genesis with his paw so the toddler turned around and saw her grandmother.
The little half-elf cooed softly and giggled as the priestess picked her up and played with her, tickling her and blowing kisses.
Seeing his mother had been successfully cheered up, he turned to his wife, which unbalanced her because she'd been leaning on him. She smiled.
"God I love you," he murmured, kissing her.
She kept smiling serenely. "I know. Now, about dinner.....?" Her question hung in the air, and together they walked down the stairs.
'TAKE A HINT'
Fyra's drink was a mug full of beer. She sucked some back, swished it around for a few seconds, and then swallowed. Mustering his courage, which surprisingly would help him take on a fully-grown and mentally unstable dragon but not talk to a woman he was helm-over-sabatons for, he walked in after a quick word with Jackie, who was on door duty.
Sliding into the empty stool to her left, he noticed her disposition wasn't as sunny as it normally was. In fact, in comparison to how she usually acted it was downright dreary. "Hey."
She blinked at him, her eyes unfocused. After a few seconds they did, indeed, focus, and she waved her mug airily. "Hi."
Then she pounded back whatever was left and almost slammed the mug down on the counter, waving at the bartender for a refill. The man on duty was a rather handsome Blood Elf.
He smirked at her as she watched him make up the drink. Whatever it was, it must've been potent because the process took a few minutes. Still with that same irritating smirk, he slid the mug across the smooth wood towards her. "Hey there, babe."
She looked up from her mug. "Honey, if there were words that could sum up how much I'm not interested I'd be using them."
Bristling from the more-or-less outright spurn of his advance, the other elf nodded and retreated down the counter to where somebody else wanted their drink as well.
Glancing over at her, he couldn't help but crack a joke: "I heard that in regards to female paladins 'I might not be holy, but I can still give you wings tonight' works well."
She snickered but didn't answer, instead downing more of the concoction. Then, wiping her mouth, she finally spoke. "Spit it out."
"What?" she was confusing the hell out of him tonight.
"There's something you want to say," she elaborated, "Spit it out."
He eyed her cautiously. "Am I really that easy to read?"
She smirked into her mug, still not having looked at him since when he first sat down. "When you know the little nervous tics people have you can guage what's on their mind. You, for example, tend to look at a nearby wall when you have something you want to say but at the same time don't want to."
Surprised that the alcohol hadn't taken its toll on her observation or her speech, he nodded. "Well, yeah. But after the bartender....I'm kind of scared of what you'll do to me if I say anything."
She finally looked over. "Medon Frostwhisper," she said slowly, utterly terrifying him, "I couldn't say no to you even if I wished to do so."
His eyebrows jumped up. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I can't say no to you. For that matter, I can't stop thinking about you. So I come here." she seemed depressed.
"Can't stop thinking about you? So I'm not the only one who has that problem?"
She chuckled mirthlessly. "Apparently you aren't."
His eyes sought her own and ended up finding them, an unusual fire burning in their amethyst depths. "So...you wanna get outta here then?"
Surprised that she was making the first move on him, he nodded and attempted to take it in stride. "But of course."
She emptied her mug and stood, heading for the door but slowly, with a distinct aura of calculated unsureness surrounding her every move. He easily caught her and walked with her, out into the street and back to Rosethorne.
Once inside, nothing happened until she spoke again. "Which room?"
He took her by the hand and murmured "Mine."
She smirked but made no commment, reciprocating eagerly when he kissed her. Sweeping her off her feet into what was commonly called Bridal Style, he carried her rather easily up the stairs and down the halls to his bedroom.
Setting her down at last, she darted around behind him. As he turned around he felt a soundproofing ward fall over the room, but as he completed the 180 degree spin she grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him fiercely. "By the light I have never wanted anybody this badly," she moaned into his ear, causing him to shudder involuntarily.
His hand ran up her sides, caressing anywhere they could reach berore moving on. He could feel his grip loosening...and even though he'd told himself he wouldn't take advantage of her, to have her coming on so strong just made him want to throw caution to the wind and take her.
Her shirt found itself on the floor, his hands replacing the fabric and chilling her to the bone.
They were complete opposites in this moment, his hands leaving her shivering with cold touches of ice and her fingertips scorching him with the fire they trailed.
"I want you," he growled into her ear as they laid down, "Light I want you so badly."
She made a visible effort not to moan as his hand froze her. "T-then take me. I want you too. Take me already....just do it!"
"Very well then," he mumbled, and flipped her onto her back. She made a sort of screech sort of moan type of noise as he entered her, but other than that she was quiet.
He woke in the morning to Fyra watching him from the balcony overlook, gazing at the docks in the distance. He rose and threw on a pair of pants so he could at least go out and retrieve her.
And retrieve her he did. Walking out into the chill morning air and wrapping his arms around her from behind, he tugged her off the railing and started nibbling her ear. "You shouldn't haven gotten dressed," he murmured. "And even though you are......" he trailed off meaningfully, the doors to the balcony closing themselves.
She filled the silence. "I won't be for long, huh? Well hurry up then, it's getting colder in here."
Grinning, he damn near ripped off what she was wearing and laid her down, his mouth moving all the while. Kissing, licking, biting; her neck saw no rest as she gasped and writhed underneath him.
He idly thought of how his mornings were usually boring. Cup of coffee, breakfast...whatever that was....
But now, with Fyra? Much, much better than a cup of coffee...
This time neither of them fell asleep afterwards, as it was around seven in the morning. He just held her, fire and ice together, as they recovered and sat there in the golden afterglow.
"You know," she finally said, "This isn't so bad. I mean, if we're together we can stop thinking about each other, right?"
After a few more minutes she opened her eyes and prodded again. "Right?"
Caught staring at her he nodded, embarassed.
She laughed lightly. "Well I guess that's the end of that, hmm?"
He nodded eagerly and she laughed some more.
'SHE'S WHAT?'
"Wha-at?" Medon groaned, hauling himself out of the bed and going for the small mirror on the other side of the room. Thanking his lucky stars, if he had any, that he was decent, the death knight rubbed his bleary eyes and tapped the surface of the object lightly.
In it appeared a doctor. He could tell, what with the white coat and the clinic room in the background. "Ah, good," the man said, "For a minute there I thought you were still asleep."
His unamused look snapped the other man back to topic....whatever the conversation's topic was, or would be. "While you have my apologies on waking you up so early, Mr. Frostwhisper, I must speak to you about something that I'm sure you'll agree with me on."
He waited a few seconds for the doctor to keep going, then sighed. "Fine, I'll bite. What is it?"
The doctor looked miffed. "Sir, if you put any more lemon in that you could drown a rat. At any rate, it concerns your apprentice, one Fyra Goldenblade."
Medon's sarcasm valve decided to flip itself off. "What's wrong with her?" he asked, almost seeming wary of the answer.
But the white-coated man simply shook his head. "Nothing's wrong with new life. In fact, would you give the girl my congratulations when you next see her?"
"Wait, new life? As in, she's, Fyra is....." he trailed off, unsure of how to respond to such a development.
Mr. Doctor simply nodded. "That she is. Try not to be too hard on the poor woman, alright? When I told her about the test results, she looked, well..." the other man shifted uneasily. "She looked terrified. I can't blame her. A paladin, no less, the poor woman's going to have a lot of pressure on her. So just help her through this, please. For her."
Then the man looked down at his watch. "I'm sure you have other places to be, then. Good day."
His mirror's reflection shimmered back to his own, and he stayed still, simply staring at it for several minutes. Three words bounced around his skull, and they had basically ripped apart the foundations of his mind and reconstructed them in an entirely different manner.
Fyra was pregnant.
He laughed, giddy, before he ran for the closet. He was fully armored and greeted the day with a smile, in search of his paladin. His paladin? Yes, that sounded nice.
Medon passed Ian on his way to breakfast. "Well somebody had a good night," his little brother teased. He simply grinned wider and said, to his own surprise as well as Ian's, "Better than anything before."
Leaving his sibling behind, he made it to the table and slid in beside Fyra, catching her hand under the table. She looked over at him.
"What the bloody hell are you so happy about?" she eyed him quizically, and he caught a flash of weariness in her amethyst eyes.
"I'm happy because reasons." His answer was met with one reply. "Smartass."
He laughed.
"Fyra." She was busy, he knew, but he was going to tell her or die trying.
"Fyyyraaaa." Her ears twitched, but she still didn't turn from her task.
"Fyra. Fyra Fyra Fyra." She finally snapped and whirled around to face him. "What?"
The death knight smiled down at her. "So I heard you were feeling sickish lately. Is it bad?"
She froze. He knew he'd cornered her with that one sentence. She'd never lie to him.
"I...it might be," she sighed finally.
He hugged her enthusiastically. "How in the name of the Light," he whispered heatedly, "Is a baby a problem?"
Her jaw dropped. Then her ears bent and she looked away. "I...I didn't...."
"Relax. It's fine. I'm. Not. Going. Anywhere."
His words finally seemed to register. She looked straight at him, a little bit of hope flaring in her expression. "Are you serious?"
Medon looked her straight in the eyes, unblinking. Then the line she'd joked about him using those two years ago: "Deathly so."
She smirked. Then she grinned. Finally, she started laughing. "You have no idea how much I was panicking about that," she whispered into his ear as he hugged her.
"One more thing," he asked, "Isn't it abiding by the chant if a paladin or templar gives birth while married?"
She sniffled. "Yes."
"Good. Problem solved." she wiped her eyes and held him as tightly as she could. "God I love you," she mumbled.
"I love you too..." her name caught in his throat for a minute, but not because of anything negative. ".....Fyra Windrunner."
She gasped, but he just hugged her tighter. "Oh relax. You already said yes, now you're stuck."
"Never would've even thought about saying anything else," she shot back with a smile.
Damn, life is so good right now. was his only thought.
'IN ANOTHER WORLD'
Fyra looked up nervously. Medon the Death Knight was recruiting for his guild and she'd applied. Now, she was too busy wondering what the hell she'd been thinking. Entering the mansion, she turned on Righteous Fury and smiled as the aura's effects gave her some breathing room.
She wove her way delicately through the crowd towards her friend the worg ranger, Kaylen. The russet-furred catwoman broke into a fanged grin as the Holy Retribution crusader slid into the spot next to her. "Hey Fyr, you wouldn't believe the shit going down in here."
The purple-eyed, onyx-haired elf gave her a short glare at the use of the word 'shit', but soon her curiosity won out. "What've I been missing?"
The worg patted her on the shoulder....or rather, platemail pauldron. "Apparently, Medon's taking on a personal apprentice as well. It's possible that some of his friends will too. So pull out the swagger, girlie."
At this, the elf cocked her head, the circlet floating three inches above it also dipping to the left. "Why?"
Kaylen gave her a blank stare before explaining to her, with varying levels of bluntness at times, how her gender was her greatest weapon. The pink tint to her cheeks glowed rosily under the overhead lights.
Medon turned to his little brother. "Ian?" The younger Death Knight's head snapped around violently. "Iwasn'tlookingatthegirlIswearbythelight-"
Medon took on a confused look, crosssed with slight amusement. "What girl?" He was answered by a point from the shadowed balcony to a woman in the crowd below. As he looked closer he noticed some distinguishing features, like her ebony hair and her violet eyes, as well as her Plated Armor of the Champion Seeker.
"That's Fyra Icemantle!" he exclaimed, opening up his mental notebook on the Chantry. "The Champion Seeker, she's a Holy Retribution crusader, and she has Quel'delar, Might of the Faithful, and a Sunfury Defender shield. From what I remember, she's an excellent fighter and she's got a lot of surprising tactics that move faster than she should be able to go."
Ian whistled quietly. "Wow."
Looking over at his brother once more, the older knight couldn't help but ask: "So you were looking at her why exactly?"
"I...er.....awkward....."
Medon shook his head. "Starstruck much?" But before the younger man could reply, no doubt in denial of his brother's claim, said brother swept off the balcony and into a door behind them.
Sighing and muttering to himslelf, Ian followed.
Fyra sat and minded her own business, posture rigidly straight and her face slightly angry. Just to ward off any men that thought she was interested in certain thi–
"Well hello there," a Darkfallen rogue drawled as he slipped into the empty seat next to her. "Might I ask why three lovely women are here instead of out and about?"
Her answer was flinty, so sharp it could've cut him. "We're here because we're looking to join the guild."
Laeini spoke up from behind her. "And she speaks for me and the huntress as well."
His one eyebrow raised. "What are delicate flowers like you doing on a battlefield anyhow?"
She ground her teeth, trying to avoid cutting her gums with her fangs, and eventually managed to grind out an answer. "Because we are, respectively, Ranger-Lieutenant Kaylen Swiftshot, High Sun Priestess Laeini Whitewing, and Champion Crusader Fyra Icemantle."
He whistled. "Ah, that explains it. Your reputations precede you."
She remained silent and mentally sent a message to her friends: 'Ignore him. He might leave.'
But of course, he didn't. Why would he do that?
"I heard that you Chantry girls are quite good at–"
She shut him down quickly. "Not interested. I'm a paladin, you moron."
He flinched back at her simple insult but leaned back in nontheless. "But that's the best part, isn't it? The thrill of forbidden love, secretss hidden in the darkness....." he trailed off meaningfully with what must've passed for a seductive expression in his eyes.
Really, it was just pissing her off. She heard Kaylen mutter 'Uh oh...' and Laeini suck in her breath, where it held. They knew her normally carefully-controlled temper was rising, and when she snapped it wouldn't end well. She knew it too, but honestly all she wanted to do in that moment was put her plated fist in his face. Maybe she'd even knock him out.
Out of the corner of her dangerously narrowed eyes, she saw black metal gleaming under the overhead lights, but she didn't give it her whole attention until she heard the warped voice its owner possessed. "Rakh, I thought you stopped terrorizing women for the day."
It was Medon, and much like her, he didn't look happy. Or well, his helmet didn't look very amused. Neither was his tone of voice. The rogue paled slightly. "I, um, that is to say...."
"With your permission, sir," she cut in, her fury reaching peak proportions, "I wish to challenge this rogue."
Her voice was the voice of death itself. Cold, flat, and sharp; an assassin's blade coming down on an exposed neck. She was pissed.
Medon watched with his jaw resting on her helmet's bottom as Fyra utterly destroyed Rakh. Judgement, Fist of Justice, Crusader Strike, Templar's Verdict, Exorcism, Divine Storm, Hammer of the Righteous, Hammer of Wrath, and her wings blurred together with her Sacred Shield to give her an otherworldly golden glow.
The rogue got a solid swipe upside the head and dropped like a sack of potatoes, dropping his daggers and shivering in fear of the woman before him. She bowed and walked back to her friends, the crowd parting like water to make her a path back to her seat.
When she reached where Medon and Ician were standing, she bowed to them as well. "Thank you." She sat down.
The distinct feeling came over him that she'd have no trouble with arrogant womanizers any longer. He'd never liked people like that very much, the ones that had members of the opposite sex wrapped around their fingers, but this elf was very independent and–he noted with quite some curiosity–had strength and wit to match her temper.
"So....." Ian broke the silence for him. "You're the Champion Crusader?"
She nodded slightly. "Yeah."
"Your name's Fyra, right?"
"How did you know?"
"As I'm fairly sure our...um...unfortunate friend over there said, your reputation precedes you."
"Indeed he did. And yes, that's my name."
After that, the rest of the day went rather smoothly.
'INTERVENTION'
"So, how was paperwork?" he teased, pulling her closer. Nalsia scoffed and relaxed against him. "Like you care." The lantern flickered out, and the only light in the room came through the windows in the form of moonlight. His breath was hot on her ears as she snuggled closer the the pillow, but it got hotter as he started nibbling on her left ear.
She purred under his touch without moving, making him wonder if something was wrong. "Somebody's active tonight," she teased, her tone thick with many different things. He absently thought of how he'd never expected to hear Nalsia purr, much less moan.....or scream in anything other than rage, for that matter.....yet here he was, in bed with his former mentor with only a young night ahead of them.
"You would know, wouldn't you?" he growled softly, moving his ministrations to her neck. She tried to hide it, but her back arched ever so slightly into him and gave her true feelings away. "Come now, don't play hard to get," he grumbled, and she laughed.
"But it's late, and there's a council meeting tomorr–" she gave a half-gasp, half keening moan as he sank his teeth into her neck. "Ah...oh would you....I'm–mmm–serious," she mumbled half-heartedly, making equally half-meant attempts to get out of his vice-like grip.
He knew they weren't serious attempts because if she'd really wanted to be asleep by now, she would have been. Even with his strength, he knew that Nalsia could get out of any grip or containment. Escape artism came with being able to head-butt mountains.
He moaned quietly as she twisted in his grip to return the favor, gentle bites running up his neck. He could feel her fangs scratch at his veins, and her claws dig into the sheets around them, and the lean muscles flexing in her stomach and arms. They were both wound tight, and so of course it was decided unanimously by the fates that the door should be pushed open at that moment, spilling candlelight into the room. "Nyssa?"
The couple froze, eyes widening. Thrian slowly relaxed his grip, suddenly thankful they always wore nightclothes that got in the way of his advances. Nalsia slipped out of the bed and padded softly towards the open door, where she picked up the small figure and gave her a comforting hug. "What's wrong, Vin? Why are you crying?"
The little Draenei sniffled miserably. "I miss Quix, 'n Nick, 'n Anna, 'n...." she trailed off, sniffling again. "I'm sorry Nyssa...I didn't mean to wake you and Treean up.."
Thrian just couldn't stay mad at that little voice, regardless of how much she'd interrupted. "Hey now, it's okay Vinny," he soothed, making his way over to the two. "Why don't you sleep with us tonight?"
Vinyia's little blue face lit up like a Hallow's Eve tree. "Really?"
Nalsia mouthed 'Thank you' at him before hugging the small girl and her stuffed Celestial Pegasus closer. "Really."
She carried Vin back to the bed and set her down, where the girl crawled to the one edge and tried to make herself as small as possible. Thrian sat down on the right edge and rolled in until he was comfortably settled in his usual spot, and Nalsia picked up Vinyia and set her in the warm empty space between her and him, where the girl cuddled down.
In a few minutes, light snoring informed them she was gone.
Nalsia's luminous gaze settled on him. "Words cannot express how much I love you right now," she stated softly, laying down and yawning.
He grinned and mirrored her movements, laying an arm over the two females. "And words cannot express how lucky I am to be with you," he teased, but she was already gone.
He smiled and drifted off to sleep.
Nadia
Requiem
Other People Too:
Vinyia: A small Draenei orphan adopted by Nalsia. Trained as a Warrior and a Frost Mage, she is the closest a living person can get to a Death Knight. She has silver hair, matching eyes, and pale blue skin. Her father is unkown but her mother is Nyala Duskblade, partner in crime of Ajiel Dawnblade. In later life she marries Nickolaus.
Quix: A felblood orphan taken in but not necessarily adopted by Nadia and Roan, her parents are fully unknown by anybody. She's a warrior without the usual bloodlust of one. She has ashen grey skin, bright red tattoos, and cyan eyes that clash with the rest of her color palette. As such she often wears red contacts. In later life she's a wandering adventurer.
Nickolaus: An Acquiri boy, he has some Draenish heritage and as such has fangs and unnaturally spiked ears. Other than that, nothing much is known about his parentage. He has royal blue skin, slightly darker hair, and shockingly white eyes. In later life he becomes a Knight of the Blazing Shield, a new order founded and lead by Priestess Anna and marries Vinyia.
Anna: A slim and lanky undead girl, despite all odds and logic she grew up with her friends. Her mastery of the Light knows few bounds, and on a suggestion from the High Priestess founded the Knights of the Blazing Shield. In later life she ran the order until she passed it to a good friend of hers, her apprentice Thelissa Dawnsinger. She has black hair and white skin with amber eyes.
Dark Ranger: http://wowhead.com/compare?items=45711:55907:61630:59282#.
http://wowhead.com/compare?items=55907:61630:65940:9518:57467:3427:61532
Ariav:
http://wowhead.com/compare?items=45205:45205:34393:47471:47440:47424:82978:45825:71269:30989;16951:16952:16953:16954:16956:16957:16958:50470:25464:30989:40700;14042:13369:16810:72314:19929:44694;78677:78715:78732:78745:25540:78361:44694:24143:30311:30311;89195
Demon Hunter: http://wowhead.com/compare?items=32235:44693:32837:32838:67236:7189:72858
Off Time: http://wowhead.com/compare?items=34386:14042:34557:34574:34366
Lightbringer Transmog: http://www.wowhead.com/compare?items=30897:30990:30987:30982:30993:30996:32243:32279:43085:32420;19351:45233:49495
