#atvir leafshadow

Amelia cocked her head and raised a brow once more. Her face tries to retain an air of collectedness, but is rather clear that the facade is being broken. “As direct as y' can be with me?”

“Well, I could be more direct, I suppose.”

“Y’ could.”

The Kaldorei turned his body to present his full, true self. He gently took her two hands into his. Even as their many days together passed by, the delicate warmth of her touch always felt so refreshing, so invigorating.

You’ve felt this way a while. You just needed the gentle push to take you upon the road.

“Amelia Rabon, kene'thil surfas. I love you.”

Amelia gave him her full attention in kind, turning herself towards him. Her mouth opened in...surprise? Disbelief? Regardless, she let out something that was partial laughter and partial sobbing. The look on her face is one of clear, resplendent happiness. Between breaths of laughter, she responded with a question in kind.

“Y' want t' hear th' dumbest thing?”

Atvir chuckled quietly and beams. “I'm sure we've said dumber things before, Amelia.”

“Was goin' to say th' same, th' night you left. And I was too scared. I chickened out right before I said it. I love you.”

The revelation swelled Atvir’s body and soul with a sense of overwhelming joy. Acting as some sort of unnatural phenomenon, he somehow smiled furthermore. “I suppose I should have given you more time before I left, then. First the Dreamer, and now this.”

Amelia blinked a few times, focusing her attention upon the luminescent wellspring before the couple. She returned her gaze up to him. “Aye. Five more minutes in th' office, and you could've left knowin' a bit more.”

Atvir breathed deeply and relaxed as the smile receded, an insurmountable challenge given his current mood.

“Love can be scary at times, being close to someone you care for deeply. Showing sides that you're uncertain of since you've not shared them with others. However, within that fear does come a breath of excitement. Sharing your whole self with someone in its entirety. Love is patience, taking time with one another. Love can be painful, taking more care with tragedies shared. Love however, is beautiful. To find someone that you can feel such a comfort with being your whole self is liberating. To laugh with, smile with, treasure the little moments between the periods of chaos. Love is...well, I think you get it.”

Amelia laughed slightly at his wordy, yet honest response, echoing it in turn. “Aye. I get it.” Her voice thickened as she resisted the urge to cry.

“And I...Tides. Fuck... I don't. I'm not th' best at waxin' romantic poetry. Or any poetry. But...I get it. And I'm so, SO happy that of all th' people on this planet, it's you I'm here with.”

Well, now she’s done it.

Atvir nodded as he let out a sniffle in response. He leaned closer to her, resting his forehead onto hers as a solitary tear flowed down his eye, nestling upon his cheek. “Glad am I that I met you so long ago that it brought us here. I suppose I should thank Mun-Li, too. Were it not for her, I do not think I would have told you how I felt.”

He paused to consider what to write next upon the memory and he smiled, running a knuckle across Amelia’s tear-filled eyes. “The joys I have experienced with you are something I never thought possible to feel.”

He chuckled at the irony he caught himself in. “Here we are spilling our hearts out in happiness and we're both going to cry.”

Amelia was weeping long before he spoke of it. Her lips were shaky as she stubbornly made her defense with a wavering voice. “I don't cry.” She caught the hand that was caressing her face.

“I'm not goin' to cry. I just... I didn't think I could. Thought I was all big and tough and immune t' it. And Tides, I was so wrong. I don't know how y' swooped in t' prove that so handily, but y' did.”

Atvir let go of his embraced right hand in her left, using it to brush aside her hair to kiss her on the forehead. He then leaned a smidge lower to gently peck the tip of her nose. Leafshadow leaned back with a smirk, with twin tears flowing down his eyes. “I typically swoop in as an owl.”

You dolt.

He sighed, voice trembling ever-so-slightly. “I don't know how difficult it was for you to do, but I loved seeing you take down the walls. There's no shame in being vulnerable at times.”

Amelia’s expression reflected bewilderment for a moment. She sighed shakily. “Aye, as an owl.” Her thumb gently brushed over Atvir’s tearful cheeks, one at a time. “No shame in it, maybe. But is scary all the same.”

Atvir nodded in agreement, lips quivering. The facade was already cracked. “Thank you for trusting me with that side of you. Thank you for showing things that you may have had trouble sharing with others.”

Atvir took his right hand and cradled her chin with a coiled finger, lifting it towards his face, staring straight into her viridian eyes. His vision was clogged as tears continued to escape his eyes, wavering further than before.

“Shaha lor'ma. For everything you've shared with me. I hope we can create more wonderful memories like these together.”

As Amelia locked eyes with Atvir, she took a sharp breath to regain poise. Her expression has an air of vulnerability as well as the pleasantness of an evening hearth. She let out a whisper in a thickened voice and leaned in to kiss him.

“Kene’thil surfas.”

Atvir responds with a whisper in kind: “Kene’thil surfas.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace before reciprocating his love with a passionate kiss.

The man carried the weight of fatigue, sorrow, and coldness as he made his way towards the ancient, cracked basin.

The last to arrive, the awaited procession were wrapped in dark cloaks, enshrouded within the shadow of the Great Eclipse. All traces of identity were obfuscated within the darkness, only the soft glow of each Kaldorei’s eyes being the sole distinguishing feature. Rested upon their raised hoods were antlers of various ornamentations and sizes.

Donned in a black armor and the only individual to reveal his face, Atvir carried a small cloth bag, contents dripping through the frayed fabrics.

As Leafshadow approached the precariously balanced font of leaking water, one of the figures lowered themselves and offered a curved, silver blade. His sullen gaze focused upon the calloused, spindly fingers that presented the item, and he extended an arm towards it with a trembling hand.

The voice is somber, yet even-toned. “This is your first, so you must enact the ritual. Know that we stand with you, brother.”

Atvir swiftly stole the blade from the offerer. As soon as he established a firm grip upon it, the dagger glowed with a blackened twilight, speckled with flecks of white. The trembling that was once there ceased as he felt an unnatural calm take over him. He took a deep breath and unfurled the first item in the bag.

Within his left hand now rested the great heart of a stag, blood still flowing from the recently-departed beast. What should have been a healthy, meaty red was shriveled with a sickly yellow. Atvir paid no mind to the blood dripping from his hand. As if mimicking the horns of a stag, he raised both hands up to the near-impenetrable darkness.

“O father of Cenarius, groom of Lady Moonshadow, great Horned Host, we beseech your blessing as we call upon the ritual of the Ancient Hunt. As you have been the first to walk this world when we were but nothing, we seek you as witness and judge to consider our hunt worthy of your boon.”

Atvir lowered his arms and raised the bleeding heart over the basin.

“Great Horned Host, provide us with the Watcher’s Sight to seek our prey. We first offer the Mourning, as the hunt is meaningless if it is for sport. With this, we share our sorrow of the senseless destruction of our world. Let the blood weep upon the waters so you may bear witness to it.”

The Kaldorei raised the shadowed dagger over the heart and surgically carved an incision in the shape of a crescent moon. At first, the heart bled with tears of crimson, pooling the water with red ink. In a short moment, however, the heart withered and shriveled as a sickly, thick, yellow pus exited the moon-incision, which coated the top of the basin in a foul sludge.

Even with the miasma that exited the heart and entered the waters, Atvir retained his composure and immersed the rest of the heart within the afflicted pool. His blood-covered palm unfurled the second item in the bag - the dessicated hand from a Forsaken. He looked down at it for a moment and glared in disgust. As the rage swelled within him for a moment, he gently rested the decayed palm atop the floating heart.

“Horned Host, behold the Quarry, the very hand of those who would defile the Law of the Land in order to destroy our way of life. We seek your sight and swiftness to end those who would destroy ceaselessly. Lady Moonshadow, we have asked for far too much of you already, but we humbly seek your blessing to cloak us within your twilight so we may be unseen.”

As words were uttered, the water in the basin was consumed with the same blackened midnight that enveloped the dagger. Both hand and heart evaporated from the very waters, as if they were never there to corrupt anything at all. The dark currents swirled within the pool, followed by a subtle, white glow that began to radiate upon the very rim of the water.

Leafshadow raised his hood to join the procession. Antlers protruded from the sides of the hood in both reverence and to remind their quarry that the Horned Host was on their side. The attendees’ heads were all forcibly crooked upward as their eyes all glowed in unison. Nothing could distinguish pupil and iris as the eyes flashed with inky blacks and milky whites. The Great Eclipse’s shroud draped itself as a great cloak of shadow covered their figures.

The Ritual of the Ancient Hunt was completed. It was time to seek out the prey.

The song continued, rhythm in reverberating tones of silence, with vibrations controlled and consistent. He laid his palm upon the surface, wincing as flesh touched flesh. He took a deep, wavering breath and focused. As the hand grew accustomed to the tissue-surface, Atvir was corralled by an irresistible tug, hand being subsumed by the liquid-solid. He cried out in a myriad of shock and panic, in which the tunnels responded with a tone of their own - the viscera-walls trembled sharply and immediately.

As hand and cave connected the two to be one, the druid was gifted with the blessing of sound, though it played out in mere pattern. The voice of the Ancient Dreamer echoed throughout the sinewed halls.

“In the caverns, you will find the self. Your skills have led you to this point, led you to me, and thus, have sequestered you here. Mind that you are not truly lost, and find the exit to continue.”

As if on command, the hand was released from the skin-prison, a viscous mass made its way onto Atvir’s forearm, resting upon it and following the motions wherever he decided to go next. The Kaldorei sauntered across the flooring, leaning until he could make contact with the wall. The unbonded hand traced fingers upon it with hesitancy, uncertain of what trappings would occur next. The cavern reciprocated the doubt lingering upon his mind, rumbling furthermore, with a singular tone that he could perceive from the mending of flesh. The pattern of sound continued.

Further tracing upon the cavern walls, singular words of his Shan’do would echo in place of the tone. There was no form to them, but hearing it forced a smile across his face. The labyrinth responded to this emotion, echoing a soft rumbling on the surface and nothing more.

Still wandering blind with dependence on touch, the muscular surface upon the wall began to harden until the pointer finger reached a spot of near elasticity. Atvir curled the finger back followed by a forceful poke. Rather than bouncing off, it pierced right through. The voice of the crone became two-and-one, with a familiar old friend joining in the choir of understanding.

“Becoming one with the Dream requires you to think outside of the confines of reality. All the rules you consider upon the waking world may be disregarded. Thoughts of these uncertainties will squander the opportunity to expand your capabilities.”

What was once one became two. The singular noise Atvir was able to listen in on had a second chime to it, adding upon the song. The Kaldorei laughed. He could hear parts of his voice throughout, cutting off on tones that he had yet to acquire. The labyrinth once again responded in kind, almost as a mockery or an interpretation.

The druid sat down and attempted to cross his legs, though the lack of sight made the result uncertain. An unsatisfying squish was emitted as he made contact upon the flooring. He drew a wavering breath once more, followed by a quiet chuckle. Atvir pressed his back upon the surface, arms outstretched.

The cavern took the offering of body as he began to sink in. A preternatural calm took over and he let the cave take everything of him. All sounds became one, a booming song spoken of voices thousands-in-one all speaking of different things. People in memories - loss, love, joy, discovery, death, sorrow, were speaking of events innumerable all at once.

Atvir felt an intense heat course through his body. A sensation of emerald flame enveloped him as the voices all rang out in harmony:

“This is a dream, and I am a dreamer.”

“I am the architect of my whims, I will master the waters of Ysera and Freya’s realm.”

“Nothing is absolute, and time heals all things. But what is time in a realm that does not adhere to it?”

“I am Atvir Leafshadow and I will impart my intent with time innumerable.”

“This is the Dream and I am the Dreamer.”

As cavern and Kaldorei became the two-and-one, Atvir could not help but smile. The Dreamer awakened to find himself sitting upon a small hill, situated in the vast viridian waves of a green tide.

His hand waved listlessly, motioning twice towards Mary and Abby. From what he could tell, they appeared to radiate with the yellow hues from Westfall’s foliage. He sauntered over towards Amelia at what felt like a snail’s pace. Atvir beckoned for Mistra to aid him in pulling her out from under the massive carcass. Leafshadow was struck with a rush of fear within the mind, but he had no constitution to even panic. The stream continued to flow.

He recalled hearing Amelia ask if someone needed a doctor.

I think you do.

Another sluggish flourish of the hand and wisps of life-giving energies would course through the mage

The boat ride back felt like a blur. The waters continued to flow.

I am sorry, everyone.

Leafshadow’s memory becomes even more of a blur. The last thing he remembered in Westfall was getting bandages for the three spear wounds he suffered, and some treatment from the frostbite inflicted by the spittle. Thankfully, the blistering heat of Westfall worked some wonders on the dreadful chill.

Content enough to leave, he made his way back to the Dreamway. With the masterful aid provided by Mozelle, it was far less of a struggle to make his way back to his quarters in the Grove. As his body collided with the all-too-familiar bed, he was immediately asleep.

A discordant bell rang thrice. Each sound a harrowing dirge, far more unpleasant than the last. Atvir felt the half-circles of shadow beneath the eyes become a crushing burden, as if he was listening to the chorus for days. At the end of the dread tune, the voice returned.

“When you sleep, you see me.” The Looking Glass.

Back into the dead encirclement, the moat of mire, the island of the aminta throne. Introductions were unnecessary, he had been waiting patiently this whole time. The Glass smiles at Atvir.

“And so, the first crack becomes clear. Recount that you are needed. Weak, feeble, pathetic, but needed. I cannot take your place without the true understanding of who I am to be.”

Leafshadow continued to stare downward at the mundane morass in front of him.

“The dread you experienced from what transpired beyond this realm has been made manifest.” Glass looks down at Atvir, with brows furrowed.

“If you’d let her strike sooner, you may have fared far better. Hesitation and caution is foolish when dealing with savages.”

Recklessness may have not been the right course to take. We are no diviners

“Your compassion is your weakness. You wield the powers of the accursed sun, which would have scorched such a frigid beast with ease. Even so, you can barely save those you hold dear.”

I am aware that I did little, and if I did nothing at all?

“Worst of all, you are fragile like glass. When one crack appears, you think you have a grasp upon fixing it, but you end up making things worse. This is why I am compelled by you. I can peel and break you until you are unmade. A blank slate that I shall paint my glorious art upon.”

Even with the burden of sorrow, the curse of the glass, the fragility of compassion, Atvir lifts his head up, and antithetical to himself, howls: “ENOUGH! YOUR WORDS ARE EMPTY AS THE ILLUSION YOU CAST UPON YOURSELF!”

Atvir Leafshadow awakened, faced upward in his bed, vision focused upon the ceiling of the tree where the walls met. He carefully outstretched his right arm upward as if clasping for something beyond his reach. Instead, he turned his gaze upon the gentle, softly glimmering wicker light on his bracelet for a moment as a single tear trickled down his left eye.

“I am so sorry.”

I begin to run towards the composer of such a song, the permeator of such a scent, leaping across quiet streams, bounding over fallen logs, and sidestepping all manner of curious beasts.

I view an enclosure not unlike the mushrooms I arrived in, but instead of towering toadstools, I am met with a barring bush. Wisps of faint blue light exit between branches and leaves, and as I push them aside, I look to see that An’she’s golden honey has bathed the individual in his radiance.

A massive Tauren sits on a crudely sprouted wooden chair, near-corporeal in form, radiating the same deep blue hues that came from where I entered.

I cannot be certain if this is some sort of trick. As I take my first steps within the copse, a smile cracks upon the corner of his lips. The Tauren lets out a hearty chuckle.

“Kid, if you’d think you can get the jump on me after all this time, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Caution be damned. A foolish notion, I know, but this has to be him. I run up to face the ethereal tauren, still coated in the deep blue that I witnessed upon arriving here. He stands up and looks down at me. Stars, I forgot how huge he was. He starts to laugh as I start to cry.

I leap towards old Mosshead with the widest possible hug I can give a Tauren, tears streaming from my eyes. As we did many times before, he reciprocates with a firm squeeze of his own. Even as translucent beings, the embrace still had that unique warmness to it - more pleasant than An’she’s gaze and far more memorable than any dawn I had the pleasure of being awake to see.

I take a step back and he uproots a stump from one of the lower layers. We sit across from each other in our makeshift chairs and stare in silence for a brief moment.

“Ardenweald. That explains it. How are you even here, then?”

Mosshoof laughs. “Atvir, kid, I wish I knew that myself. There were unpleasant stirrings in the Weald. Part of me thinks I yearned to be away from danger, while part of me thinks I was getting tired of the color purple.”

Anteph lets out a deep sigh. “I am glad to be here, even if it is brief. I see that things are chewing at your spirit, kid. Let’s talk.”

And so I rambled on and on about all that happened since his passing. He surprised me about one thing.

Letting out a wide grin, Anteph laughs. “The Dreamer! Hah! She’s residing in Ardenweald. Her wildseed arrived and was drawing all sorts of attention, both good and bad. I have no idea how the Queen did it, but she is there. I’ve seen her wander around.”

The rambling continued. As it was before, Shan’do Mosshoof listened intently with great interest as I told him of my latest experiences.

As I concluded my discussion, he had a sly grin across his face. “You talked about one woman a lot. Do you love her?”

I blink in response, face turning a deep purple, and shrug slightly. He laughs. “Hah! Three hundred years old and it’s like you told me some sort of dark secret. Love is a great thing, isn’t it? It can be scary at times, being close to someone you care for deeply. I’ll not bore you with the hypotheticals as you seem to have more than enough on your mind. I have a question for you, though - what would you do if you weren’t afraid?”

I take a deep breath and smile. “Nothing. Were I not afraid of such a prospect, I do not think I’d be me. I suppose if I was less afraid before, I would have let my feelings be known sooner.”

The deep blue is starting to fade into form as my Shan’do becomes more corporeal. He puts on the great mask resting on his chair and nods. “Good. Being your honest, true self to share with someone you care for is important. Stand, Thero’shan.”

I do as my teacher tells me. He gently presses his ghostly thumb upon my forehead as the colors of Ardenweald continue to escape his being, tendrils dissipating in the air. “Sometimes, you have no opportunity to prepare. Let the focus of the staff take rest and become one with the wood. Let the claws coil in and become a great shillelagh. The simplest of things can be the greatest of solutions.”

I feel a surge of something radiate throughout the body. It feels like no natural magic, but I am filled with an insight that I did not feel before. He lowers his hand and takes a step back. Only the upper half of his body is present.

“I return to the Weald, Atvir Leafshadow.”

I slowly bow towards him. “Farewell, Shan’do Anteph Mosshoof. Shanna melor'ne adala fal.”

All but the head remains now as I notice him nod towards me. “Theia-shoush ahmen.”

A faint echo reaches the back of my mind. “I wish I told you sooner, but I love you like a son. Take care.”

I never realized that the scents of kingsblood and vanilla ran their course, as the bitter tinge of purple lotus permeates the air.

I sit upon the stump he generously provided and begin to laugh which is immediately followed with tears of joy.

“I love you, too.”

(Other days below)

Day 2