#arrydhalia

" In a time before trials and tragedies, you always made me feel I belonged. You are a home even when I am not home. I will never forget, how infectious your smile was to me. I wanted nothing more than to make you feel as you made me feel, Rary. "

I know, I know. It's been a hot minute! I have been pretty busy with a few things in real life and making time for other projects. And here's one of them! @nyyght ' s Arrydhalia Bloodsinger-Daevara AKA Duraxxor's wife <3. I had a load of fun trying to make this look good!

“So, you wish to indulge in hearing of a misdeed in the depths of sinful night, do you? Alright, I will bite a little. “The Lord of Bats teeth gleamed from the spotlight that barely grazed his features. Eyes of red splendor peering back with a rekindled hunger. And with it, he cleared his throat. “When you find yourself to have been separated from one who placed your heart in for so many years, even when your mind has been shattered, you seem to always find your way back home where it all began. However, you find yourself hungering to try new activities. And Arrydhalia and I are no exception to these desires. “His voice began to flow melodically low. Crimson pupils halved as he lost himself in the midst of his own story, as if he were in the moment's past. 

“We both learned relatively fast as she was healing from her ordeal that we possessed traits we were both unaware we had. Being a creature of the night has a tendency to promote sadism. But I never implemented creative means with a lover in a delicate state. But my darling found herself in the need to scratch an unfamiliar itch. One that involves allowing her vulnerable state to be touched upon deliciously. “The shadows that coalesced around the singular spotlight began to writhe and dance of their own volition. Figures that appeared to have been hand-like in appearance reaching for the epicenter for one another with a sense of longing.  “And then it hit me. I possessed the power to take control right in my fingertips. “A pair of hands joined together, winding around one another into a singular mass that took the shape of a woman with several pieces of rope extending from her frame, as if she were caught in a web. “I never thought that using my affinity for umbramancy could be used in such a creative way. To bind my darling to the shadows that originate from my own body. Puppet strings that could make one dance, bend, or even pose in whatever the master wishes. I need not the rope for I -am- the rope. “

The mere, verbal representation of this encounter caused the Lord to salivate. For the experience was more than just a sexual encounter, it was an art. “Like threads of fate, my reach had intertwined her entirety. It rendered her unable to escape or to make contact. I could feel it in my senses. The scent. The sound. Her blood pumping with cautious excitement as she found my grip tightening. But that wasn’t enough, no. I brought myself close to her beautiful face, staring back into those innocent eyes. “A faint chuckle escaped his throat, allowing that statement to be judged by the other parties.

“All nine of my fingers explored, taking in her shape as though I had planned to forge a mold for a statuette. My teeth tracing, softly pricking, across her flesh. Hot air hissing from my maw across her pale flesh that threatened to devour her whole every, single time. “ Duraxxor hummed, leaning back in his chair. A momentary silence befell the room as he evaluated his constitution. His eyes sparked with brightness as his voice reverberated with an amused joy. “Did you know my wife’s surname is Bloodsinger? And my oh my, did my Arrydhalia sing to me. A private musical starring yours truly as the conductor and audience, which heatedly turned into becoming a performer myself. “

It always seemed to start off here in this room, fourteen by twenty-five. A windowless, master bedroom that had seen many years of darkness. Touched only by the light of candle flame and beams down the hall. The Lord, Duraxxor, better known by those closest to him as Alphus Daevara, stood amongst the shadows in rumination. The pitter patter of three sleeping hearts and soft snoring were the only things that graced his senses to the external world. Hollowed sockets with a lack of magical light gazed up at the ceiling, recalling a memory. The sound of hammering echoed in the expanse of his mind, retelling that the boards of this entire home had been built by his hands and his hands alone. Days he toiled as a twenty-year-old Quel’dorei. Working all those odd jobs that sometimes involved some shady objectives. He had been on his own for some time, trying to make something of himself. And like most carpenters, young Alphus knew every board like it was a bone in his skeletal structure. He had stared in amazement, proud of himself. For it would only be the first of many firsts when his life began to turn around. It wouldn’t be long after that in the following late summer, he would be bringing in the house's second denizen. A black-haired bride that had waited for him for over a decade to return, and not a moment too soon. Arrydhalia Bloodsinger, the woman who had become his wife, eloped straight into his home. And they wasted no time in christening their first intimacy in this room. Limbs entangled and lips meshed. Yet, there was something cotton soft in its nature as they had given themselves to one another in a time of dire need. ” Alphus! “His heart cried out his former name, echoing as if they were in the expanse of a hallway while the memories continued. Seasons passed on from the heat of the summer to the chill of winter. Many nights they shared a lover’s embrace and spoke of their accomplishments. Alphus becoming a proper soldier and Arrydhalia becoming a scholar. It wasn’t until nearly two hundred years of gaining their footing that their mingling had finally bore the third to their household. Another first to add to this home’s collection. Ravlynn Daevara, or best known as their Raven, not only was the first babe to see the inside of his home. It would also be where she took her first steps right into their bedroom. The white-blonde daughter giggled with infantile pride. And for a long period, her growth continued along with her schooling. And while Raven had her own trials and tribulations, she could always count on her father to be there for her. There were many fatherly talks in this very room, and he continued to stand in silence. “Father! Please! “Another cry echoed from deep within, following with the sound of what was thought to be water on a wooden floor. Further, we go into the memoirs. The news had spread even to the isolated homeland of the Daevara family that the Scourge had been attacking Lordaeron and eventually, Quel’thalas. A time where the fourth soul to stand within this den would be his son, Aiden Durand Daevara. A boy who would favor his mother’s bloodline. Something that lurking predators sought for themselves. Patiently, those creatures waited for an opportunity as the denizens of the once proud high elven kingdom would call upon even Daevara in their time of need to take the fight against Arthas in Northrend. A battle that even he knew was suicidal. A phantom pain returned as he could recall the plunging of a runeblade right into his chest in the bitter, icy heart of Northrend. The man, who had built this home and family, had been taken by the Scourge and turned into a monstrous machine of war. 

But his memories didn’t end with just his own, as the flickers of crimson lighting struck in a flash. Arrydhalia had waited patiently for some news along with her children, and not long after tucking her son and wishing her daughter a goodnight, she had thought she would finally have a peace of mind. A shadowy figure walked into his usual path, and in her hope-filled jubilee, she ran outside, hoping to embrace her husband. But it had all been a ploy as the predators had sprung their trap. The hired kidnapper injected a needle into her neck, slipping a sleep-inducing drug into her veins. In doing so, they had left the two children behind. 

This is where these halls learned of confusion. An adult daughter running around the house in panic with not a single note or sign of their mother. A crying son, huddled up in the corner clutching a stuffed hawkstrider. Their bawling and cries rippled across his drums like a disturbance in the ponds. These weren’t his memories at all. No, these were the events that happened in these walls. Boards that heard sister and brother argue over the fate of their parents. One believed the rumors that mother hand left to move on to a new family while the child felt their mother would never turn her backs upon them. That something was wrong. 

“ Oh sweet Aiden, you don’t know how right you were. “ He thought, glimpses of Arrydhalia’s own memories flickered in static. Cries and screams that haunted his mind after partaking of her blood. Violations, both violent and verbal, from one of the predators. Ostindal Tindervale, a noble man who held a grudge for Alphus’ previous meddling in eloping with his promised bride. A bargaining chip that her parents would join in selling her after all this time. Why? All because he desired Arrydhalia’s beauty in his gene pool when creating an heir. 

The sickening sound of bone crunching followed. A ring finger had been plucked between teeth and spat on the floor. “... If only I had known sooner. “ 

In a flurry, his own visions returned to a time not long after where he had returned to this home. However, he was no longer himself. His identity shattered and cracked like a mirror. He had lost what was once Alphus and became Duraxxor Deathcleave. But even as his man was racked with the pain of seeking the truth, this room. The very room he stood in. The darkness that smothered out the light. The monstrous darkfallen had unknowingly found peace in these grounds. And at the time, he did not know why. 

The ability to tap into blood memories began to unravel his mind, causing him to hallucinate the oozing of black ichor. The very power he commanded inside of his flesh slowly turned on him. His mind spiral into the abyss that was his former guilt. Actions that had cost him the trust of friends, family, and even casting doubt on himself, began to overwhelm. Fingers of many souls tearing at the foundation that had stabilized his condition. But it was the reunification of the mortality of Alphus that started to claim his brain. Like boulder, the weight of his many atrocities was finally realized. And then, the creeping darkness within himself whispered as a reminder. 

“Remember, we did not get the choice. This was a coffin we had to tote for ourselves… “ 

Eyes flickered in his sockets, transitioning between the moods of man and monster. His talons balled into fists of nine, total fingers. Sharpened teeth gleamed in the light as the man fired back with a deep seeded hatred amongst himself. “ … Nooo… this is not what I would have done. I was not a corpse bag for my darkness to lug around. I did -not- want this for them. “The screams and cries of his wife and children doubled over in the moment, a symphony that was trying to overtake his own musical. However, he didn’t give in to the haunted words and streaks of black blood and splashed across his canvas. 

“I hate you… “ 

Out of everyone who had returned into his life once more, there was one person that had not forgiven him. One that he had placed a barricade around himself and in the process, harmed him. The son, whose hair was black as Arrydhalia’s. A heart purer than any Light he had ever seen. He had forsaken him, betraying his trust. And instead of attempting to mend things from the day he had traumatized him as a prepubescent child with his vampiric hunger, Duraxxor had done little to soften the tension. Like a pendulum, it swung back and forth. That was, until the string finally snapped. And for the last decade, Aiden was forced to mature on his own, especially with the short-term loss of his sister in the equation. 

 Alphus extended his hand, trying to grab at nothing but the vision of his son walking away from him. “Son... wait… No… it’s me, your father. Your -actual- father. Please… “Try as he might, Aiden’s form slipped into the dark ocean, escaping him. It felt as if he were losing his son. 

And just when his paternal instincts were about to send him plunging its depths, the warmth of a hand snagged him back into reality. His body, immediately jumping in the embrace of one whom he thought was sleeping. “... Love? “The mother of his children, pressing herself firmly against his back, spoke. “... I can’t remember the last time anyone was able to sneak up on you, even when trying. “She contemplated in the pause of her gentle, weary voice. “… What is it you’re thinking about that has you deeply lost in thought? “ 

It was a foreign creature for the batty lord to feel comfort. But he could not deny that Arrydhalia’s embrace had managed to pull him from drowning himself. At long last, the eye sockets began to gleam with the oceanic hues. A crimson halo coalesced around his pupil that fixated on her features in the dark. “ I am… recollecting my thoughts on how to approach our future. There are wrongs still to be righted. That would include when my son and I finally cross paths. “ 

Her own dim lanterns of sky blue looked up at him. A weary expression that only his heightened sense of sight could see. She hesitated in asking her the following question. “ With Aiden? Did… something happen? “ 

Much like when he had already clued her in on things such as the miraculous return of their daughter Ravlynn, it was no surprise that she would expect more tidings of bad news. As it seemed he was abundant with a great amount of catch-up that was needed. “We’re not on the best of terms, as you know. And I am positive my absence that took place for a Azerothian decade would not come as a surprise if it developed spite. After all, the Shadowlands has a way of twisting time. “ 

Arry squeezed him gently, continuing to hold him in mutual comfort, but almost as if it were a hope and belief in their son too. “… Aiden has always been a loving and intelligent boy. If you apologize to him, I am positive he will -hear- you. “Even as her eyebrows furrowed with motherly worry, she couldn’t help but remain positive that their family would be whole again. 

She was right to believe in the son she knew, but Lord had seen sides of Aiden that she had not seen and felt as though there were also other points to this parallel. And despite the fact that he easily dwarfs his spouse, he felt… tiny in this moment. “Hearing is easier than seeing though. And well, I know I wouldn’t necessarily forgive me either. “ 

The black-haired bride let his sentence linger on her heart, pausing as she realized that in those fifteen years of her captive absence. She casted that doubt aside in a much quicker fashion than the pessimism her husband felt. “I have faith in him and his capacity for kindness. But even if he refuses, he’s -our- son. You can’t avoid him forever and I don’t want you to. I want our family to be whole again. “There was a spark of determination veiled by the desire that shook at her core. 

The emotions she projected seeped right into his form, like a drug that was injected right into his veins. He felt this self-doubt dissipate on the rising determination that was Duraxxor begin to envelop him. Softly, a wrinkle formed on his cheeks when he smiled. The luminescence of his eyes halving. “I should not be dwelling in dark waters. What I need to do is press forward and let my darling rest. It seems that we all have wounds that need healing. Even I. “ 

Now, Arrydahlia herself had grown tired of his spine and urged him to turn and face her so that they may embrace more. To which, he was happy to oblige as he swept her into his arms, wrapping her in his -wings-. “We will get through this. We have all weathered worse things, and we will do it again. Together. “Her voice softly spoke, gazing deeply into his eyes as the curtain of darkness closed around them, slowly returning them to the comfort of their bed. The creaking of the cracked door coming to a complete close. And now, Lord and Lady would find comfort in each others lips and...

A room fourteen by twenty-five

This is a story designed to catch all of you up on recent events. And is told from the perspective of the duality that is Duraxxor. Please enjoy!

A phrase that I have not known for some time. There was always this bittersweetness in basking in the rising of the day star. The myriads of hot colors that are often shown through in the atmospheric reflection that is our skies. It’s like… an ozone autumn one may say. It always reminded me of the Sin’dorei homelands. Wait, why does it also remind me of… someone?

“A dragon. It reminds us of that dragon of Azeroth’s blood. Delicious blood as it is, Azalora is a fresh slate. Much like we were. Or should I say… I was. Fate has dealt her a chance, unlike I. “

Hmmmm. A fresh dawn, one might say that one is. That’s right, meeting her was an interesting turn of events to start off with returning to Azeroth. Life always seems to find a way, in the strangest of places. That includes unlife. As logical as her mind is, she still has a lot to learn in her experiences.

“And that isn’t just about how she likes her cut of meat and flavor? Everyone knows there is only one way to eat a steak. Hahahaha… “

Ha! I do hope that we meet again soon. It was a most pleasant experience to have a new face to look at you as helpful and not entirely a threat. Although, that may come back to bite one in the tail. Wait… Why am I talking to myself?

“Really? We have fought against aberrations and had voices in your head so many times and you are surprised to be speaking to yourself of all people? Oh Alphus, you really haven’t been yourself for some time, have you? I suppose that comes with the fact that we haven’t been whole for so long. It reminds me of the current conflict between the Gravekeeper and the Courier. Oh, that was a most painful night, one I won’t soon forget. “

Ah. I take it you are the part of me that is Duraxxor, the name we have gone by for the past what? Decade?

“It’s been a little over fifteen years, old friend. “ 

Old friend? Look, we aren’t exactly separate entities like the two involved. You aren’t a leftover of my past; you are every bit as part of me as much as I may dislike the notion of me being a blood sucking monster. Why do you think you chose to meet with the Courier and hear her story out if she so wishes to share it?

“On the contrary, I have my pessimistic opinions that she won’t fully share. Remember, while Annaliese Handhour is a death knight, she was also a warlock in life. And with warlocks come complicated stories. Complications that they wish to not share. That is how we wound up absolutely getting our shit rocked when we tried to bargain with the Gravekeeper. We overstepped a boundary line, one might say. “

As if you really hoped to care about overstepping boundaries. That’s always been your specialty in these desolate years of conflict. Let us hope she at least forgives us for doing so in the future. Then again, you already plan to tread in waters that could already place her on our bad side by meeting with the Courier.

“Now see here, I have betrayed no one’s trust. If anything, there have already been a few betrayals already. When one doesn’t quite share their details, it is already a sign of bad faith and trust. And after we worked so hard to bring her back from her second death. “

Didn’t we also have a second death? . . . 

“That is highly exaggerated. That was merely a setback, and we are fortunate enough to have had the Lady in Red as a dear friend. An ally who understands the raw potentials of what it is we have tried to accomplish! An evolution that will secure our birthright to no longer be a curse! A monster fraternizing with another monster. “

Is that really what you tell yourself? You and I both know if she had to choose between herself and us, it would always be herself. Even so, I can’t help but feel like I know her from the past. A deep, forgotten memory that goes all the way back to my childhood? Why do you think that is? 

“That is precisely the point I wish to make about your confusion in speaking amongst yourself. Though the name Duraxxor may have come from the Scourge itself, I have always lived within you, Alphus. I am as much Alphus as you are. And yet, I am your shadow within your soul. “ 

. . . The darkest thoughts that were born from our curse. The beast of rage and the chaos that swirls within our heart. You mean to tell me you are exactly what was learned within the Shadowlands? You are that fragment of my soul that is foul and destructive? 

“I suppose if you wish to look at it that way? Yes. Except I am the beast, as you put it, that has kept us ongoing ever since you crumbled into tiny, little shards of a mirror that were once your core memories. Memories that have only returned because we finally. . . “ 

You are trailing off. You realize it too, don’t you? The woman before us at this moment. She was the key, and she has always been that key even before I died. I wish I had known sooner who I originally was in life. I wouldn’t be sitting here, holding her hand with a severed ring finger. My beloved wife. . .

“It’s not entirely your fault, Alphus. What could you do? If anything, it was my fault. It was I who chose to believe in the bitter rumors that were plastered into the minds of even our blood children. Ravlynn and Aiden couldn’t know. The legacy of that foul man was nothing more than a children’s bedtime story in their hearts. Instead of investigating that claim all those years ago, I bitterly snarled and refused to acknowledge the emotion that is love born of understanding and kindness. That is why I made the mistake of trying to wed one of my own kind. A lie in a lie. All this time, I had been chasing pieces of your wife because of old emotions I didn’t quite understand. Because as much as it pains me to admit, I am quite the malevolent thing when it comes to what makes Duraxxor. “ 

We both have our sins, Duraxxor. I have over five hundred years' worth of questionable morality. It’s not about the wrong and right we do. It’s about how we choose to live. To fight. People live and they also die. For what purpose, that is up to them even if another force chooses to intervene. And this lady. This woman. She chose to continue to live even in the worst possible conditions because she chose to hold onto hope. Hope that WE will come for her. 

“Hmph. You mean YOU come for her. This isn’t some fairy tale that w- “

Cutting yourself off again, I see. You know that was always a nasty habit. Tell me, how did the story go again? The one she told the kids. You heard it once from them, right? 

“. . .Once upon a time there was a monster, most feared by all in the land. It was a terribly angry thing, all teeth and claws. Where it walked, death followed close behind. There was also a very sad princess, who lived in the land. They say she cried so much that she put the rains to shame. The king and queen wanted the princess to marry a grand duke, but he was ugly and wicked. Rotten straight to the core. The princess cried all day and all night, because she didn’t love the duke. She could never love a man like him.”

And with good reason. Ostidal Tindervale always was quite the pisspot of a noble.

“Now that I have had the luxury of meeting that excrement, quite so. Anyhow, she told the man that she didn’t want to marry the duke, that her parents were leaving her no choice. The man took her hand, stared deep into her eyes, and told her she -always- had a choice. “

Oh, that sounds vaguely familiar. It almost sounds like something you have said once before. That WE have said before. There is always a freedom of choice.

“Are you going to keep interrupting me? The man told the princess that she could run away. He took her far away… and even though her family sent many men to retrieve her, the man killed them without mercy to protect her. that he would protect her, help her get far away from there so that she could finally be free. He was so brutal in his efforts, that it was only a matter of time before the princess realized that the man who saved her was also the monster that everyone else feared. It didn’t matter to the princess though, because by then she’d realized that she’d fallen for the monstrous man… and he was with her. “

Here comes my favorite part of the whole thing. . .  

 “They ran away together, married, KISSED… and lived happily ever after! ~ Mwah Mwah Mwah Mwah!~ “

It’s a wonder you and I haven’t died more than twice with how insufferable you can be, you know that? Do you understand now what I am getting at?

“Of course I do! Duke the puke was a horrid pisspot that never let things go. History has a tendency to repeat itself and the monster in the story was always. . . Me. “ 

It was you and I both, wasn’t it? That numb feeling even before death where one after another, we killed people that threatened our livelihood. Her livelihood. It didn’t matter who they were, what their status quo was, or even if they were the Regent Lord himself, we fought for what we felt was the right choice to make. We didn’t let others dictate it. The shadow that turned monster because the world labeled us the moment we came out of the womb. 

“And speaking of Arrydhalia, I believe it’s time I let you have the floor completely. I have… certain, internal affairs to take care of. I’m sure you will intermingle really soon. “ 

The timing was always impeccable for us both. But, as usual, he wasn’t a dishonest creature by any means. I looked upon the face of the storyteller that had passed my legacy onto our children through story. Sunken eyes with discolored skin begin to crinkle and stir as the light of the daystar bled through the window. The grasp onto the hand that lacked a wedding finger tightened. Where said finger would interlock like, the tips of chew nubs pressed against one another like some sort of a pact. No other would have this finger, just as she promised in her own, darkest hour. And yet, as the light caressed her dark curls and brought those azure eyes to creep open, I felt this desire to sing an unfamiliar song about the day.

So Good mornin’ Good mornin’ Sunbeams will soon smile through. Good mornin’ Good mornin’ to you and you and you and you.

[ Tagging for direct mentions: @azalora-the-azerite-dragoness , @gravekeeper-anna , @safrona-shadowsun , @sanguinesorceress , and a special thank you to @nyyght not only for Arrydhalia's character but the fairy tale story that started it all. ]

(Sketches of Alphus (Lil' Dura) and Lil' Arry)

" It all starts with the children. "

- Alphus speaking to Commander B'andtherion

As some of you know, I did not have the easiest childhood. Well, at least the ones that have bothered to ask. " The Lord's voice flowed at a narratively serious octave, resounding as much bitterness as he often had. " I often went to the academy with little more than the resolve to get through to the final bell toll. All of the children didn't want anything to do with me. And those that did, they either were chastised or removed from the academy to a more pristine establishment. In the eyes of the adults, I was stain on a perfect record. A scar, such as the one that I've had on my face since I was of that age. Numbers. I may have excelled in mathematics, but numbers are what always crushed me beneath their heel. Every day, I felt as though no matter what I said, I was in a chokehold. I was alone. And the only comfort I had was going home every day to my mother in one piece.

And then, she fell into my life.

A recent transfer from another noble house arrived that day. I remember choosing to even acknowledge it. " The flow of Duraxxor's voice continued to hold a solemnness to it, picking up in volume as the story begin to transition into a pivotal point in the life of Alphus. " Arrydhalia Bloodsinger. " Something about that name tickled my senses as a child. Perhaps it was the dark humor that resided in my little mind. How there were times I wanted to do more than defend myself. The children began to whisper amongst themselves. Speaking of things that reminded me of how they treated me.

" Beaver tooth. Rabbit face. Four eyes. Toothpick. " These names were describing her physical form. And it had earned her my attention as I growled in irritation behind a book. But I saw wasn't any of those things. I see a nervous girl trembling in her introduction. Frizzy, dark tresses that were like entangling vines. Spectacles in the shape of circles that caused her gaze to appear bigger than it truly was. And yes, her form was quite lithe. I honestly don't know how when I came to find out that girl could eat snacks like a horse. " The Lord couldn't contain the laughter in the recollection of his tale.

For a brief, we had exchanged glances after she had been seated at her desk during the same subject of mathematics. I remember her having her nose in that book like it was her life. Even when we had been dismissed to recess, she carried a book with her. And rather than try to play with the other children, chose to settle under a tree in the schoolyard and just... read. And it just so happened that day, I was in that tree from my daily climb to avoid the others. But it seemed today those other children had something in mind.

" Oh look, it's Arrydorkia! Hahaha! " One of the boys stated like a bullfrog.

" Bloodsinger. More like, Mudsinger, am I right fellows? " Another one stated flatly.

Try as she might, she was crumbling under their words no matter how much she stuck her head in that book. Wilting like a flower that wouldn't make it to bloom. The third of the party started to grin mischievously.

" Hey, look at us when we are talking to you. How about I see what you are re-Huh? " The third lad began to reach for her book, but it was quickly stopped by a tight grasp of the hand of another. My younger self had chosen to jump out of the tree between Arrydhalia and the group of boys. I still remember the look of horror on their faces when I gave them a scowl that hinted that death may be knocking at their doorstep.

" Leave. Her. Alone. " Three words never stated as unsettling from my youth's lips as those that day. And they knew that I meant business.

" It's that Daevara freak... Veralt, we should go. Last week he beat the boulders off of that Big Therim. " One of the other boys promoted an issue to their third, party member.

Veralt jerking his hand away before rolling his eyes. " Tch. Daevara and Bloodsinger? Oh, how I cannot wait to tell the others about this... you will regret this protecting her, Alphus... " The boys immediately took off, giggling like a bunch of ninnies now that they had a new rumor to play with. Such is the way of children of nobility.

And when I turned to ask if she was alright. Instead of seeing the face of a girl who was crying or trembling in fear. I saw the eyes of wonder, admiration. Her blue eyes sparkled as she looked to be overwhelmed with joy. And rather than speaking, I decided to settle my own bottom next to her.

" Hey, your name's Arry, right? " I asked, carefully and cautiously. My voice seemed even a little more hopeful. " Whacha' readin' there? "

She had given a bit of a chirp in her voice. Her cheeks turning a rosy pigment as she turned back to her book. That was the first time she had smiled since she arrived. I could never forget those big teeth. How precious they looked in my eyes. At the time I didn't know it, but she was already appreciative of me and the fact I took a genuine interest in her books. And then, she went on to tell me what the book was about.

" It's a story, about a man that became a hero of justice in the streets. And he wore a red scarf. . . "

To be continued?

[[ Tagging for soft mentions of @kelzthalassunwhisper and @arrydhalia ]]

There was hoarse cackle that seemed to wheeze for a moment in regard to the nature that was his love life. It wasn't really meant to be of insult or arrogance, but... well. There was a bit of a sad joke to that. " I suppose you are referring to more on the lines of love itself rather than the bedroom antics. " There was a hint of sultry pleasure in the thought of it, however. " I would do well not to speak much as a means of protection but yes, my wife has been found after all this time. " His left hand now perching his chin, missing that ring finger that was always a hint. Little did many know that the loss of that finger as actually a testament to a sacrifice that was made in honor of lover's past. " You wish to know the best way to describe it? Because there is quite a bit of information to consider here but... I will spare you the trivialities and get to the point. "

He tilted his head, bringing his hand to settle more on his cheek. His gaze now fixating off to the side in the distance. " It's one of the most bizarre experiences. You have been chasing the idea of who you were, and you continue to gain this paradoxical piece of a bigger puzzle. I had always had trails but never in this state of existence did I ever think that finding her would actually restore everything lost... " He paused, taking a moment to reassess what sort of emotions he could feel on the matter, having been so numb for so long.

" There's a powerful familiarity that dictates as closeness, but everything came in like a flood, busting the dam in the process. I would relish the thought that we are still as close as we were. But we both know there's more it than the past. " His hand began to settle, revealing the hand more clearly as rubbed his pointed finger just below the nub was for that digitus annularis. " The Lady has been through literal hell, as have I. I suppose you may even say we have bonded even through that. Heh... " And then, he was reminded again. " ... A running theme, that one. Every time we were apart, it felt like hell when the days turned to years. I only hope that she will accept my hell when she has recovered from hers. . . "

[[ Thank you for the loving ask @handhourgalleries ]]

Before the events of Shadowlands, Duraxxor held very little memory of his former life. And in this, he wasn't much for the thoughts of regrets. He believed everything happened for a reason, even to himself. Sure, he didn't like how his two children wound up and treated, but what else could he hope to do?

It wasn't until he retained his memories from a recent event that some regret reared its head. An inner turmoil that spiraled from the return of a lost fragment of the man he once was. The tucked away love he held for a wife, the mother of his children. He felt more than regret with the way it was obtained. He felt grief, sorrow, and even an old rage he didn't even know he possessed for another. His wife's captor, the one who had been responsible for every affliction that was placed upon Arrydhalia when he found her, locked away and chained with no magic.

The man he was still at this very moment feels that deep regret that if he could, he would change what it had done to her. But deep down, the darkness in him knows that it cannot be undone...

But the wrongs will be righted. . .