D E A T H

WORLD OF WARCRAFT: WARBRINGERS // accepting

“Oh how rude, destroying my home like a child throwing a fit. I do suppose that Theron got the death he finally wanted.” Emerald eyes flashed with a sinister glow yet her smile never faded. “I guess I just have to rip out your soul as payment. Fair, don’t you think?” Her research, experiments, and one of a kind books - Gone, reduced to dust because of this small beings ego. No matter, the knowledge was not lost at least.

“Your carelessness is noted and troubling. If you were in the possession of a one of a kind tome, artifact, or object. You would have doom the world to further ignorance. Age is not an excuse nor status. You are fortunate that I have recovered my book. Your punishment would not be so light otherwise.” Jubilee did not raise her voice as she spoke. Finding no need in such things.

“Five pages of parchment with the dangers of tapping into leylines, detailed causes of death or injury, uses and disadvantageous of teleportation networks through stable and unstable means, and the effects of continuous teleportation on the body. It should be no trouble as I am certain you have read it from cover to cover.” Yet that wasn’t even the worst part.

“Do sit down, miss Proudmoore. You will be starting immediately.” With a snap of her fingers, a stack of parchment and an enchanted feather pen laid neatly on the opposite of her desk. An uncomfortable wooden chair had also been summoned as she gestured with a smile.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you that its rude to look through others belongings? Especially that of a ladies?” The archmage’s voice was dripping with disapproval but behind her cold stare was a hint of nervousness. Lady Foxhollow did not desire the other to see what she had hidden from unwanted eyes. It would be…problematic.

The name makes her scoff. Jubilee... Memories surround a broken mind, many of them pleasant, many of them painful. Fate had brought them together, knowing that nothing good would come out of it. And yet, she clung onto Jubilee as if she was her only ray of hope. In a way, she was. It was them against the world and Skarlet wouldn’t have it any other way.

Now, however, she has nothing; nothing other than bitter feelings and painful moments to relive even in undeath. The addiction for blood is not strong enough to wipe them off no matter how much she prays to Gods that don’t exist each night. And now… Jubilee’s– no, Abaddawn’s son is standing in front of her. Even if he’s only part of her flesh, she doesn’t hate him; she can’t bring herself to hate him.

“She is a mysterious woman,” she finally replies, tone no longer bearing confidence. “Powerful, albeit narcissistic. She cares little for those she has no use of.” Crimson eyes move up and down, carefully examining him. A healthy boy, most certainly powerful, yet he’s thrown to the side.

Just like Skarlet.

“It is a blessing you do not know much about her, otherwise you would come to hate her.”

The woman’s words were like a hammer on an anvil. Each word like a strike that stung more than it should. He did not know what he was expecting. Ambitious yes and yet the pieces came together. The puzzle piecing itself in his mind. His abandonment, his peer’s unwillingness to even discuss the subject of his mother. The unsettling old rumors. Anubis’ early life was a sensitive, depressing chapter. His half blood status made him a target of bullying from the human orphans. His magic the only blessing as he was plucked from the orphanage to the now floating city of Dalaran. Where his sharp mind was put to the test. Yet he found no solace from social exile from both human’s and elves.

Anubis raised his chin as the undead woman approached. Sapphire eyes gazed at the woman intensely. "Only her name." He replied coldly this time. He knew of her name, his family tree on her side only. He knew of a cousin still alive but nothing else. His father was ghost and long ago did he stop chasing a man that did not wish to be found. The mages that knew his mother would not speak of her.

"Jubilee." Yet he was not all truthful. He heard rumors of her last moments alive. That she had somehow gained control of the legion hounds and used them to battle the Scoruge. He did not know if she still 'lived' on in undeath. Was she still part of the Scoruge? The Forsaken? A mindless one that still haunt the land somewhere? Yet he did know that she abandoned him as an infant. So many questions and perhaps now...answers.

"What do you know of her."

WORLD OF WARCRAFT: WARBRINGERS // accepting

“Me?” Jubilee gasped with overly done dramatics. A hand on her chest as she fought back a smile. “Oh no, no, my beloved fool. It was not I but you. I merely gave you the means - while you acted upon your impulses.” How easy it was to leave her in ruins. Bonds with former friends cut like yarn and mind so easily molded through addiction and sweet false love. “Come now, you are merely upset. They don’t understand you like I. Yet I told you what they thought and spoke behind your back.”      

“Be angry not at me, but those that truly hurt you. I merely showed you the truth. Come, my love.” Arms opened wide as she beckoned the elf to her with promises of comfort and understanding. “They destroyed you, I will mend the pieces, as I always have.”

“Hmm, as a scholar finds an unfamiliar scroll fascinating. Presume much and you’ll be disappointed. Alas strangers from afar that are not demons are a rare commodity. That and zealous, uncorrupted Eredar of course.” The warlock knew all to well that the male knew nothing of which she spoke. Her world as foreign as his webs of magic. Demons perhaps yet she wondered if they were the same within his side of the cosmos. How adorable for him to assume. Ever so the dominant male type. Abaddawn wanted to bleed him dry in ways he would not find pleasurable. Perhaps when she is done with he, she would grant him undeath. Her twisted king.

“Take it, if you think yourself capable. What I give depends on you. What things we could learn, what pleasures we could discover, truths that may unnerve.” So inviting her words, lips formed into a grin. A hand offered to him to take. Beckoning him to her. Sly like a fox she was, intentions hidden behind a wanting smile. She bowed to no man.

Send in a ❣ for a random kiss // accepting 

an assertive kiss

With a fist full of the otherworldly being’s tunic. She pulled the male to her as her fel tainted lips found his. Bold was her action as her fangs brushed against the soft flesh. Using the unholy strength undeath gave her to keep their bodies part with her free hands as her talons sunk into his flesh. She could feel his lust and with it, she used it like a weapon. A means of control. All too short the kiss ended as she pulled away. Leaving her lips to hover over his as her emerald eyes looked into his. As if she was staring into his very soul. 

A king is but a man. A man a slave to his desires. What fun she will have. The power of other worlds as her fingertips and his soul. Ripe for the taking. 

She chuckled once again, a clawed hand running down her half naked breast down to her still shapely hip. “ My, a brave one. How refreshing.” The man’s deep voice was a welcomed addition to his charms. Even with unfamiliar magic she sensed an enchantment. The chill of the riders was like standing within the frozen wastes of Northrend once more. Standing before a group of armored men, the warlock was unfazed as she found her black talon nails more interesting at the moment. “My forest reminder and whatever powers I wield I doubt you would find it to your tastes.” Pupiless eyes bore into blacken, metal sockets with a grin. Tilting her head slightly to the side as she did so. 

“I’ve come to see who has stirred up the Worgen, who has been leaving their corpses along with the undead. Tiresome those beast men and perhaps I should think you and for that you may call me Abaddawn.” The man interested the undead warlock greatly along with his company of skeletal looking riders. Made to be intimidating. Hiding the living flesh of beings. As their armor hid themselves so to did the warlock. Even in death her beauty in life was not taken from her as a handful could say. even with her unsettling emerald eyes within shadow was not enough to unsettle apparently. Besides of course their beasts of burden. Horses were so sensitive to these sort of things. With the powers she commanded...change was always a guarantee.

“Searching for something are we hmm?”