under construction.

         BANSHEE / damn her !!  lilian's lips curled into a snarl, as though she did not already loathe & regret to be in the queen's presence. every part of her wished to lash out at the dark lady, to rip her soul SCREAMING from her cold blue corpse. -- but she could not risk war with the forsaken, especially with her new connections to the UNCROWNED. damn it !!

" how DARE YOU compare me to him !"  lilian hissed. bony fingers curled as if into claws.  " prove my worth -- as if there was even a chance of me becoming one of your accursed FORSAKEN. "

     Trusting that Lilian had found within herself the proper deal of CLARITY - that which was necessary to grant her new life - the priest inhaled and exhaled a steadying breath of his own before beginning to channel purposefully the Light that flocked to him with an almost magnetic attraction. It whirled and danced about his form in a manner belittled by the term ‘graceful.’ Indeed, the union between Anduin and the benign POTENCY he wielded was something mysterious and magical and awe-inducing all the same. Beneath the lids of his eyes, pools of golden took the place of cerulean depths.

     It was gradual, the way the REDEMPTION he wielded flowed from his hands and into all of being. The typical stinging sensation begotten ordinarily of the Light’s contact with the unliving would arise only if the slightest bit of the aforementioned trio was felt; and Anduin had faith that no such anguish would occur, for within Lilian had he placed that very faith. No words were spoken as the sole sound emanating within the cathedral remained the OTHERWORLDLY hum of the ritual. It took a certain span of time for the nurturing grace of the Light to reach fully Lilian’s being, but it - at the behest of the priest so greatly DEVOUT - eventually succeeded in accomplishing just that.

     Kindly sensations would slowly but surely begin to enrich the rogue who had, for most of her life, known little save the opposite. Where there was once frayed and disheveled hair, faintly golden locks BLOSSOMED. Where there was once exposed bone, there grew warm and renewed flesh. Where decay and ROT plagued the skin, there arose a lack thereof. Fueled by that which Anduin had coerced her into feeling - courage, trust and HOPE - the process of true REDEMPTION took place within the hallowed halls they occupied. “Be liberated, Lilian, of your CURSE,” announced in a fashion mostly autonomous the source of the process at hand.

     And just like that, all which had plagued Lilian since the LIFE had left her being was no more. As Anduin had promised, she BREATHED again.

    Lilian's first breath was a GASP.

    Like being underwater for years, and suddenly released back into the open air. It was followed by a series of coughs, freeing her lungs of the accumulated dust. The aftertaste of rot tingled in her mouth. Her eyes opened in the same shade of blue as in death, but full of LIFE. Her vision blurred and sharpened, and she beheld everything at once. It overwhelmed her, the opposite way waking up DEAD had.

    She'd forgotten how BRIGHT colours were. She'd forgotten what vibrance was. Her hand felt her cheek, the sides of her face-- the stitches that had once held it to her head were gone, as were the maggot holes. She felt her neck-- her pulse thumped in her throat, audible. She could hear the townspeople outside. She could smell the reek of decay that still stained her torn leather armour. Both hands clasped over where her heart was.

    A beat. Another, a rhythm.

    Anduin had done it.

    Finally, the waterworks she had held back flowed down newly-warmed cheeks. Instinct took over for her breathing. Lip quivering, she focused on the priest-king. Without a moment's thought or hesitation, she threw herself at him in what was likely the first embrace she had ever given without being coerced into doing so. He was warm. She could feel the Light still flowing through him, and it was warm.

    "I'm alive," she said, voice hoarse but no longer ragged the way it had been in death. "I'm alive. Thank you, Anduin, Light above-- I'm alive...!"

    She collapsed into a cry that did not feel as dangerous as whenever she had before. There was no worry that someone would walk in on her, berating her for weakness. There was no fear of punishment. She did not harbour distrust in her current company who was subject to her tears. She simply unloaded the weight of the world onto his shoulder, smiling through the new freedom--

     Her pleading won over Anduin’s heart faster than he realized such able to be so swift. Blissfully shaken was the young priest at her willingness - and BRAVERY at that. Lifeless digits met with the mere taste of redemption he promised, yet the slight burning sensation present was one he could explain in its entirety. “Fear,” he spoke simply. “Fear, doubt, despair… All these things turn the Light against you and yours, Lilian. In order for this to work, you must clear your body and soul of them. I must do the same, for only when we are as ONE with the power I intend to utilize may success be possible.”

     Anduin had, for the past year or so, devoted an abundance of both time and effort towards manipulating the Light in a fashion entirely BENEVOLENT, and it was what he had learned during that period which he shared now with the one he offered a second chance at life. Taking but a single step away from she who the priest sought to cleanse all remnants of lifelessness from, he closed both hands into gentle fists as DIVINE energy began to swarm about his fingers and veiled gently the glimmering azure of his eyes. “Reflect upon the most pleasant thoughts and memories you can muster, and let their collective warmth into all of your being. This much should protect you. I am ready when you are,” Anduin advised, as ready as he would ever be to change the fate of all which did not LIVE.

    She considered his words, carefully. Lilian nodded in whatever understanding poked through the maelstrom of emotions she was feeling, broken free of the cruel apathy undeath provided its sufferers. All she had endured, both before and since death. All that plagued her and haunted her, in those three words.

    FEAR. Fear of failure. Fear of the Light's wrath. Fear of abandonment. Fear of reprimand. Fear of the Shadow. Fear of DEATH. Fear that clutched at her intestines and tangled them like branches in the Nightmare. It danced up her spine under the controlling, judging eyes of THE CRUSADE. It froze her to the bone before the unforgiving side of a teacher's ruler the moment her eyes skipped a word in her book. Broken glass on the floor, telling her she was ugly, and would only get uglier the farther she strayed from the Light.

    DOUBT. Doubt she could learn. Doubt she could become strong. Doubt that her father loved her. Doubt that she was worthy. WHY ME, DADDY? WHY NOT GET ANOTHER GIRL TO LEARN ALL THIS? (BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT WEAK, LILIAN. ENOUGH STALLING.) A shadow that eclipsed her working mind, cutting it off from its work. A restraint that clasped her by the shoulders and forced her to falter mid-strike. A nagging voice that told her that no matter who she spoke to, who called her a hero, a champion, a FRIEND -- they did not love her. No one could ever love a MONSTER like her.

    DESPAIR. The despair of failure. The despair of doubt. The despair of DEATH. It tore horrified screams from her ragged throat when she realized she was dead. It lifted the dams of her tear ducts and caught her when denial could no longer carry her. (HIGH PRIEST VOSS DENOUNCES YOU AS A DAUGHTER. HE'S ORDERED THAT YOU BE EXECUTED IMMEDIATELY.) A shattered heart, like the glass on the ground. Ugly. Monster. Dead. No, worse: UNDEAD.

    The more she considered it, rifling through her own memories like a secretary through paperwork, finding something that wasn't too tainted and corrupt to cling to to BANISH her feelings of fear, doubt and despair was starting to prove IMPOSSIBLE. Her life was one of abuse and hard expectations, ending without warning and leaving her in the torment of the Scourge's echoing call. No... Forsaken's, technically. But it didn't matter.

    (FEAR, DOUBT, DESPAIR: SO CLOSE, AND YET SO FAR. YOU WILL NEVER LIVE AGAIN.)

    Lilian swallowed, refocusing her gaze on Anduin's hands. The warmth still tingled in her fingers, the pain fading and leaving that promise behind. She searched herself, until she regarded the present. She realized: if she had never known happiness before, what was Anduin offering her? What had he found that no one else had, that had seemed impossible?

    COURAGE. Something so unprecedented, and yet she leapt for it.

    TRUST. If anyone could accomplish this, could save her soul, it was Anduin Wrynn.

    HOPE. SHE COULD LIVE AGAIN. Was this moment, then, happiness?

in general, he tends to both CONFUSE & FRUSTRATE lilian. killing is ALL SHE KNOWS, & everything he REFUSES to do. but for everything that annoys her about him, it also separates him from the people she grew up with, the person people wanted her to BECOME. he is her direct opposite, & she’s very aware of this – for this reason, if his mercy was ever lost, she would know something was WRONG. she TRUSTS him. for her, that’s a LOT.

she genuinely had no expectations for him to be like varian when he became king. for one thing, she was sheltered enough in life & distant enough in death that she paid varian’s leadership no mind. for another, she is less inclined to believe that the child should resemble the parent when she was NEVER what her father wished her to become. she’s often BAFFLED by the viewpoint that he SHOULD be like varian, especially with the catching up she’s been doing. DIDN’T HE PREVENT A DWARVEN CIVIL WAR AT FOURTEEN ?

     Her DISBELIEF was not unexpected, though it earned the slightest of sighs from Anduin. “None have ever sought to wield the Light as I have, I don’t think,” proclaimed the priest, confident that his views of REDEMPTION were shared by few, if any at all. He faced Lilian fully now, drawing to one palm a soft and warm brightness; one she could not hope to FEAR even if she so desired it. His gaze shifted a time or two between said glow and the rogue before him, and it was after this had transpired that he affirmed, “The choice is yours, Lilian. I wouldn’t dare to FORCE such a change upon you if it isn’t what your heart desires.” Anduin knew well that merely the idea of such a transition would prove FRIGHTENING to even the most resolute of souls - and resolute did he imagine the forsaken’s soul to be for all she had ENDURED.

    That was true, that he was something else entirely as a priest. She learned that about him quickly. He was merciful, he was forgiving. He was everything she wasn't and wasn't used to. Her eyes never left the warm glow that filled his hand, her own trembling as she approached. Slowly, reeling. He was offering her something PRICELESS.

    "There is nothing I desire more," she confessed, breathless and quiet. Years of numb, vague cold creeping along her exposed spine, reminding her of everything she hated. The chill of the frostbitten SCOURGE, the described dread of sentience SLIPPING AWAY in the final moments of the dying undead, the very way she had DIED -- falling asleep shivering, huddled into herself and waking up without a pulse.

    Her mistake, her life. The freedom she craved in warmer days came with the price of her heart and body. Yes, the Scarlet Crusade had treated her cruelly. She would never forget that -- never FORGIVE that. But she hated herself as much as she hated them, as much as she hated the other undead. She was just as much an ABOMINATION as any of them. Even the unliving adventurers that had tried to help her were no exception. Pure intentions didn't mean a pure soul. Poor bastards were as lost as she was, if better-adjusted.

    Suddenly, Anduin was giving her the chance to take it back. A lump grew in her throat.

    "Please," Lilian said, urging herself to hold whatever tears her lifeless eyes could produce. She gently lay her shaking hand in Anduin's, bony fingers curling into his Light-filled palm. It burned, but it was warm. It felt like it was filling her empty veins with fire... but it was better than the bitter winter that coated them.

    The Cathedral of Light reminded her -- almost TOO MUCH -- of the churches run by the Scarlet Crusade. It was cleaner, mind, and the aura of the building was less corrupt. Still, she was not welcome in this city. The king may have invited her, but the people shrank away from her at best. Screamed, some of them. The guards seemed to actively restrain themselves from throwing themselves at her, swords drawn and swinging through the air. It was a little better here, alone with Anduin.

    If there was still anything off, she chalked it up to her own unease.

    She listened to Anduin's proposition, his words at first earning only the same morbid curiosity. But the word BREATHE -- it caught her attention and held it captive. Furrowed brows softened and raised, cold blue eyes widening. Her lips parted before they had words to form.

LIADRIN introduced lilian to the concept of ponytails. the girl has avoided touching her hair since she died, beyond the very basic brushing. after the matriarch finally convinced her to let her just put it up once, lilian found it comfortable – at this point, she only takes it out when she doesn’t want to risk the band SNAPPING in combat.

the HOMONCULOUS IN SILVERMOON reached lilian’s attention thanks to liadrin, who noticed something off before anyone else had. it was after this discovery that it was wondered if there were others, leading to the discovery of the rest in the other capitals of the horde & alliance.

         "YOU, DEATHLORD !"

unfortunate words traveled, as a grapevine curls & grows. nowhere did such powerful, yet flimsy little things travel sooner than in the UNDERBELLY, beneath hushed breaths & into curious ears. but no matter how one tried to cover certain secrets from certain people, the unfortunate whisper of one of the new HORSEMEN found that particular horseman's murderer.

conspirator, at least.

lilian harshly grabbed zoen by the arm, having managed to catch her in dalaran by chance. FURY blazed in cold eyes not dissimilar from that of a death knight's, though the crosses they bore were just different enough. in her anger, politeness & respect towards someone as powerful as zoen mith were only the FIRST things to go.

         she HATED the undercity.

ugly, foul-smelling & corrupted in nature, just like the "PEOPLE" in it. ( just like HER. ) had she her way, she would never set foot in this place. she wouldn't be forced to listen to the horrific conversation of torture & immoral experimentation from the citizens of this hellhole. she wouldn't have to hear PRAISES of the hideous banshee WITCH that lead them.

oh, how she DESPISED sylvanas.

but, in the uncertainties of the war against the legion & the simultaneous war between the undead & the worgen, it came to question to put two & two together. a dreadlord had already once infiltrated STORMWIND'S court, had the legion done the same to SYLVANAS' ?  or, better yet, was sylvanas herself among the HOMUNCULI, whom even lilian had been having difficulty identifying ?

she had to investigate... PERSONALLY.

     Casual treads were taken in the specified direction until the pair reached where the Underbelly opened up into the briny skies above the Great Sea. Before the pipe’s opening were stationed two gryphons: one ivory, one ebony and crimson. The former crooned softly whilst the latter cocked its head momentarily at the sight of the living and UNLIVING side by side. Wearing a gentle and innocent smile, Anduin approached the one with feathers of white and was soon mounting carefully the beast. Once atop the gryphon, he gazed back over at Lillian and gave a nod of his head. “They know the way. When we’re airborne, I’ll explain the plan,” affirmed he, a congenial expression directed solely at his UNBREATHING companion.

    Lilian had a flying mount of her own, but if the king was going to offer she would not call upon it. She watched the darker-feathered gryphon anxiously, as if waiting for it to REJECT her upon her mounting. When it did not, she relaxed a bit and let Anduin guide their path. (They must have been trained well, by the king or ... whatever royal worker dealt with the animals?)