Archive for October, 2011

((Forgot to post this here too. >_>))

October 23

I said I’d think about it.

They’re all going anyway. ‘Prepared to die’… what does that even mean?

Kia’s going to come back screwy in the head, and it won’t be him.

Kia, who has always been kind to me- even after I assumed his guilt, even after I refused to speak with him for months and months. Who hugged me and said he’d be there if I ever needed him. He hurts. They all do. That’s why they’re going with Stehl, to Ahn’Qiraj itself.

It’s the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard. They’re flaming morons. They deserve to die, if they run off and do this. They deserve to be puppets and I shouldn’t mourn idiots what run right into death’s face.

I’m really one to talk.

I should say goodbye, at least. If it is him. It’s a trap

It’s probably a trap. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I miss Tristen. He’d know what to do, I imagine.

Need to talk to Tremaine. Probably don’t have time to dig up his scabby hide and question him more thoroughly. And if I did, he’d probably not give me a straight answer, so there’s not really any point.

Graves has nothing. No hint or whisper of their cult here…

Perhaps it’s time to pay Sir Dorinke a visit. Warn him what’s coming their way.

He’s fought them far longer than, and to greater success. Maybe he could help them.

Silvermoon’s dangerous, though. My Thalassian’s in poorly spoken words from children’s books. Hurrrgh.


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((OOC note: I’m representing things that happened in RP imperfectly here. Not because I’m an assbutt- though I am totally an assbutt- but because I don’t have perfect memory or logs. :( ))

“Nae, ye kinnae cross th’mountains by foot less ye go inter Blackrock Mountain itself, lass… an’, if yeh’ll pardon m’sayin’ sae, ye dinnae look prepared for tha’ level o’ shite.”

The dwarf eyed her dirty skirt and armor padding skeptically, looking unimpressed. His gaze lingered on her face, on the distant, strange look in her eye. His gruff voice gentled a little, coaxing. “Yeh look like ye need some sleep an’ a good stout beer.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Myk murmured through her hair, voice more of a sad, wistful sound than anything- Ye told me ye weren’t walkin’ into peril, Chroi. Don’t lie to me…

She wavered a little on her feet, uncertain. Both hands fluttered over herself, a small frown tugging her lips as she found herself unarmored. Why had she left without armor in the first place? Light, but that was stupid. Her teeth tugged her lip. Mahl was frowning. You have a problem, you know. This is what I’m talking about. This -addiction- to danger. Don’t do this.

“It’s not an addiction!” She spat angrily, features twisting. Her gaze darted back to the dwarf, trying for a smile. The dwarf looked less than reassured, edging a step back and frowning.

Watch it, Dyna. You’re letting your anger get the best of you. You don’t even have anyone to be angry with right now; the dwarf thinks you’re crazy. You could use that. Ereleth was neutral sounding, the low tones of his voice keen and sharp. She peered back at the dwarf.

“Five gold for a gryphon ride to Loch Modan. I can sleep in the air, just tie me down good, aye?”

The flightmaster sighed. “Done.”

She hadn’t meant to sleep. She didn’t want to face what was coming.

There they were. The strange little camp, Ulra’s runeblade arcing. She could feel him behind her, was keenly aware of the hatted man, unconscious against the pole. He’d gone empty, when she’d put the hat on his head. But it was him, she could tell. And when Marius lunged toward him, with Ulra on the offense– she knew.

And she did nothing to stop it.

The Light lit up her hands, seared through her body like righteous flame- the death knight’s face wilted sickeningly beneath her palms, sizzling and hissing. Her own battlescream was loud enough to drown everything out, and yet still she heard it- the wet ripping as Marius dug his claws into his flesh, the sudden collision of combat as the inert man who was once her husband came to animation. The wide brim of his hat had been knocked askew; her plan had worked, but only so long as the hat was there.

She didn’t think about it. Her trust was in Marius, and he would do what he had to, no more, no less. She barely felt it, when the runeblade passed through her torso- just felt a sudden weakening as he body was forced away from Ulra, the delightful sizzling of holy energy petering off like a dying lamp sucking the last little droplets of oil before extinguishing…

She barely felt it, when the dead woman with the burnt face laughed, shadow tendrils flickering from her palm to seize the massive elf who had just killed her husband. Marius was gripped onto the blade, the heft of his form forcing Dyna further down, fully skewered and rapidly fading from consciousness.

She didn’t notice when she passed to darkness, thrown beneath Marius and bleeding in the dirt. Everything blurred together.

His smile loomed in her mind’s eye, grey eyes impossibly sad. “Gooodbye…” He sing-songed sadly.

Please don’t go- don’t leave me here, I need you, we were just married!

She woke with a start as the gryphon struck ground, staggering from its feathered back after clumsily unstrapping herself. Her gaze swept the area, searching for any immediate threats. Nothing. Too tired for conversations with people not present, she stumbled away from the small settlement, plunging deeper into the wilds. Her vision blurred with tears.

It was a small, tinny sound. She could have ignored it, but- she missed the voices that weren’t imaginary. Her hand reached for the chain at her neck- it was the thin one, made of dark steel. Quavering fingertips reached for the ring dangling about the bottom, cupping the familiar weight of the Sigil’s old signet; she couldn’t quite bear to leave it behind when she’d left. The voice speaking, however, was breathless and familiar-

“Help– it’s bad– Elwynn- someone, please…” Rasped Kialthos, breathless with pain.

Fear shot up her spine. She stopped dead in her tracks, listening intently- someone would come for him. She waited, tension stiffening her arms. Dread rested in the pit of her belly.


She recalled in a flash the disparaging words that had been spoken of the scarred and battered draenei. Reckless. Hot-headed. Always leaping into danger. No one is going to help him. Droned Caimeron. He is like you.

“Somebody- anybody- Light, he’s hurt!” She opened the comm with two taps of a finger, insides churning. “Someone help him!”

Fascinating. If I was still alive… is this the same monster from before, I wonder. The tones were velvet and detached. She shuddered. “Shut up, Jannis.” She hissed to herself.

“Please!” Pleaded Kialthos’ voice from the Signet. “Thunder Falls… can’t.. much longer…” Here he lapsed into ragged, wet sounding breaths.

She tapped the signet twice and reached for her hearthstone, no longer able to withstand the journey northward. Green light swirled dizzyingly about her. She felt sick in the pit of her belly, as Loch Modan arced away with a flash of brilliance…

Newt careened wildly in the air, hissing his gladness to be out and about with her astride his back. He flapped his large, graceless wings furiously as they soared up an updraft. At her shout and the hard slap of her palm against his shoulder, he folded his wings in a dive, dull amber eyes -fixed- on a patch of water. She shouted again, alarm hardening her voice, but he ignored it blithely, absolutely set on dive-bombing that pond.

She could see Kilathos’ prone form lying on the rock, his features obscured by his cloak, left carelessly over his head. She pushed herself off the protodrake, floundering through the pond to surge to the draenei’s side, pulling a dagger from her belt and falling to a before him, guarding his body. “What happened! Who did this! SHOW YOURSELF!” She bellowed at the empty clearing.

Only the sound of Newt gleefully devouring mud with slurping and splashing greeted her.

She stared into the moon-lit clearing with a snarl on her features- and nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden fall of a palm on her shoulder, jerking aside and preparing to take -down- her assailant-

It was Kialthos. Standing there, impossibly unharmed. “Easy, babe. There’s no one here. Nothing happened.”

She stared with disbelief. “B-but you’re hurt-” Her gaze searched his face and form for signs of injury. And this is why Kialthos was not allowed aboard the Quel’Talan. Salarous droned. Shut up, you’re dead. She retorted.

“Nope. We need to talk.”

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It’s been a long time

Time was an unstable force, prone to stops and start like a flighty yearling.

One moment, she was moving with purpose, could feel the breath in her lungs and the thunder of her heartbeat as she ran. The trees lanced by her, the dim light of dawn a muzzy glow between mist-shrouded branches. The distant lantern of an approaching guardsman was abruptly a brightness in her eyes and then it was past, leaving her to the semi-dark forest and the well-traveled cobbles, to the cold morning air and the music of her armor clattering in the fog, of her footsteps and deep, steady breaths.

And then she was there, at the barracks, gathering a few belongings into a knapsack, calling Gaell to her side. Her palm brushed lovingly over his skull, still small against her hand but bigger than it had been a month previous. His golden eyes watched her solemnly, and she was murmuring reassurances-

The note she’d left Myk was sparse. He’d worry, despite her reassurances. She could hardly breathe; her hand shook as she wrote it. I could have lost him, I could have lost him, he could be dead right now and it would be my fault; what am I doing?? What am I doing, oh Light help me why did I-

She didn’t know where she was going until hours later. She scarcely recognized her surroundings, barely felt the light rain rolling down her face.

Didn’t you promise me you weren’t going to run away anymore…? She could hear worry and a hint of reproach in Mahlar’s voice. Sadness, too. The tone was gentle, so lifelike that she almost looked behind herself- but she knew it was only her memories come to haunt her again. Her eyes squeezed shut.

“Shut up, Mahlar. You’re not even real.” The words were terse, whispered between breaths, accusation written in each syllable. “What’s one more broken promise, anyway?”

I might not be real, but you know this is wrong. You don’t have to do this alone. It isn’t too late to turn back, you know…

Her eyes closed a moment, guilt an ember in the pit of her stomach, steps slowing just a tad. Home was only a few hours back…

And then what?

Her body tightened, breath strangling in her throat, teeth clenching as she swallowed back the sudden tears prickling behind her eyes. “No. Shut up. Not right now.” The words were groaned and her hand dragged down her features. Gaell looked up at her curiously, sticking close to her heels. Dyna’s features contorted with misery.

Can’t even face it. You might never see us again, you know. Kialthos sounded so disgusted that she flinched. The fook are ye goin’, Chroi-? Yer not this dumb, are ye? Myk chimed.

“I just need a- a minute.” An hour. A day. Years, to myself. It hurts too much, I can’t do this, I- I need to think and to–

Marius wasn’t amused. And to what?

She felt sick.

Coward. Tristen’s voice was flat, none of his usual warmth present. You promised me you’d watch Lea. Where are you going. You swore an oath.

Her hands raised to clutch her head, and she broke into an unsteady jog.

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Nobody home

There are several ruined pages where she’s started something, and then scrawled it out past recognition.October 20

We lived, and that’s what matters.

All the things that hurt

Don’t matter. I’m not losing anyone tonight. No point in letting fear get the best of me. Have to keep moving through the grief.

We lived, and that’s what matters.

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October 1

Wretched little thing, this traitor’s heart of mine.

I feel the shame twisting in my belly like a snake made of fire and blades. I am unworthy of the friendships I have found.

I think that was hurt I saw there, in his eyes. But with Tremaine it’s impossible to tell. I knew it was wrong even as I did it, but I have to protect my Bastion

No. I wanted to protect myself.

I let fear make me weak. There are many things in life that hurt, but none quite so much as betrayal. I see shadows round every corner, where they are and where they are not. I see dark intentions and plots and schemes, traps that strangle the words from my tongue, that cripple me as readily as coffers about my wrists and ankles, that leave me powerless.

Well I can’t have that, can I? So the minute I let my guard down, I’m at his throat reminding him I could kill him if I had to- both of them, really. Ereleth because I’ve followed him into the shadows and gullies and fog, because I’ve been told he’s a dagger at my back, because I’ve been told so many times just how much a fool I am to trust him. Mykhael because of what he is to me, because of what he could do to me.

How many times have I reminded Myk I’ll kill him if he’s false?

How many times have I told Tremaine I’ll pull his innards through his throat, if this is a trick?

When I asked him about the things Fugue had told me, he said he was different, that he’s changed- he said it as if I, of all people, ought to realize that. And I should. I’m the only one still alive that knows what he’s been through, and I turned on him, as is my habit, like a rabid dog snarling and snapping.

What kind of person does that to a friend? I threatened to kill him. I as much as outright accused him of being allied with the enemy we’ve been fighting, just because I was small and afraid.

I know Tremaine, more than anyone does- other than, perhaps, Lesse. He hasn’t lied to me yet. He hasn’t led me astray. He told me the truth about Strahm.

My actions were unworthy of a friend, and unworthy of a woman who aspires to be a Knight.

I tried to apologize, but I think it was too little and too late. He says he’ll forgive me- if I go on vacation for the next two days. Vacation. Last time I left, Barclay happened. I made him promise to keep an eye on things, to keep an eye on my Bastion. Then I talked to Frostleaf; she’s a new recruit, left the Legion to join the Bastion. She said she’d look in on Redhand and Ari for me. Mahl told me that if Tremaine needed any help, he’d step up in my place- Light forbid something happens while I’m gone, I asked Frostleaf to pass the message too, if she happens over him.

As much as I owe Tremaine an apology for letting fear overcome loyalty, I owe Mykhael one as well. I’ve been suspicious and cold when I shouldn’t have been.

I need to talk to one of the Ballamores, make sure it’s okay that I leave. And I need to talk to Mykhael, see where he weighs in on all of this.

On the one hand, Kyrita’s right. Going alone would force me to face myself, and maybe I need facing.

On the other, it would be- exciting, to have Myk and Thoran along. It would complicate things, but in a good way. And if I went alone, would Myk believe me, that I wasn’t doing something dangerous?

I think I’ll go north, as soon as I’ve finished preparations. As loathe as I am to leave duty behind…

Tremaine can keep watch for a few days, without me. If it isn’t a trick to lure me away and

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