#augustday52022

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Kiwi was a simple cat, she made it clear what she expected, when she expected it, and in return, her compatriots would enjoy the company she deigned to impart upon them.

Not today.

They all slumbered, it was time for food. Didn't they know, didn't they understand?

Clearly she had to be taught a lesson. Kiwi observed her from up the shelving high above, still blissfully slumbering in her soft nest that she, in her arrogance, had attempted to banish Kiwi from claiming.

Attempted, unsuccessfully, of course.

Action was required, an answer to the injustice inflicted upon Kiwi.

She leapt.

The bulk of her slammed into the smaller compatriot, the one who'd be graced with her presence the longest, honestly she should have known better by now. And, after a good deal of yelping and meowling, Kiwi was served her breakfast.

August 25 - Day 5 Fluff/Shiver

Anything being out of order within the great house at Meadowrun, or the Sunmote Tower — especially the Sunmote Tower — was a rarity. Keranna ran an incredibly tight ship and maintained a level of cleanliness and style that rivaled that of the former King’s chamberlain.

The small, sooty black stain in the center of Fiorenze’s usually immaculate duvet stood out terribly even in the low light. Keranna was out, she knew, running errands around Dalaran to stock the tower back up for what would be a longer than average stay, but that didn’t excuse— 

Lady Tel’vaiel’s train of thought abruptly shifted as the dark blemish moved. 

Two round, feline eyes blinked open and stared out at her from the void, shining as violet as the city often did itself.  

Fiorenze’s brow furrowed sharply. She waved a hand and cast a basic cantrip to light the sconces and large fireplace as the tiny black kitten uncurled and proceeded to stretch mightily, digging its sharp, needle claws into the expensive embroidered silk that it had been napping on. 

Before she could do anything else the small, black fluff puffed up and the air around it seemed to shiver and shimmer. An instant later, and with the wake of fresh arcane energy hanging in the air, the creature had buried its claws into the skirts of her dress and proceeded to climb, mewling loudly for attention. 

A Blink Kitten. 

Someone had found a Blink Kitten. 

Probably Pyraelia. 

She’d only ever heard of them herself; uncommon phenomena resulting from stray litters born in the city’s underbelly. All the arcane runoff infused them with power their little bodies often couldn’t withstand, but the ones that survived…

Well, then. 

Fiorenze carefully scooped up the delicate creature and held it up to get a better look at it as it squirmed in her manicured hands. The downy soft, sleek fur had an iridescence to it that she hadn’t been able to see from a distance, and it was hard not to fall in love as it headbutted at her fingers in desperation for affection. 

Every witch worth their salt needed a familiar, and it had been an exceptionally long time since her last one. “You’ll need a name, then, won’t you? Cardamom, perhaps… Or Hyssop, you do remind me of the flowers. I’ll have to think on it.”

Hand-delivered with a bouquet of red roses, and another bouquet of Quel’thalas wildflowers, and another of lilies in all varieties. All in all there were enough flowers to fill every available space on her work kitchen counter. There was also a note, with a single dandelion tied to it. The handwriting on the note was distinctive--and terrible. He was in a hurry. He was always a little bit in a hurry.

Dear Trisandrah, I know this is kind of fluffy hippy-dippy stuff for us, but I just wanted to say that I’m still so happy. You make me happy. I hope all the flowers make you smile. No special reason, just stopped and got a little shiver and smile today--all because of you. Wanted you to know. Don’t tip Tre’vor, he’s a little bit of an asshole--just kidding, always tip the delivery guy, yeah?

Making a wish,

Ren

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Mention: @trisandrah

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Enjoying a little down time...

The breeze was warm, as it always was in Booty Bay, and he could smell the salt water in the air. It was never an unpleasant smell, in fact it was one that he was finding himself getting more and more used to and enjoying even more as well. He leaned forward onto the table he was at, swirling his drink as he watched Attzi play hostess. She never failed to make sure that people were comfortable, especially their comrades after any sort of job or event. She smiled, setting another drink down, then laughed and turned to someone else. He smiled to himself and shook his head, always busy, always making sure everyone else was set before taking time for herself. The night went on, and so did the party. Stories being told, laughter ringing out, and ribbing to be had. Even with the recent events, there is always a need for finding some time to unwind that little bit. Finally things wind down, and people begin to make their way to the exits, though Kappi lingers a bit longer than the rest. He takes a sip of his whiskey as she comes back up to the rooftop, and he smiles at her as she approaches. She reaches out and runs her hand through the fluff of his tail which causes a shiver to run down his spine, then she sits and leans against him with a sigh. “Another successful session of drinks. Everyone seemed very relieved.” Kappi said as he leaned his head against hers. 

“Yeah, but I’m ready for this.” She smiled, nodded, then wrapped an arm around him.

{Music}

Sariah liked to keep a full itinerary, digs, surveying gigs, and supplementary education kept her apprised of all recent findings in the community. When not consumed with her career her mind was turned to the arts, everything from painting to needlepoint was a skill Sariah was mastering.

The mind rebels at stagnation.

Because of this rigid schedule, it has been months since Sariah visited home. "The Ungrateful Daughter." A self-given title as her mother had given Sariah everything, working her fingers to the bone to make sure her daughter could do what she truly wanted in life.

Now was a perfect time, two weeks free between this last dig and a three-month trip to Dalaran and the next dig, one to prepare and the other for a much-needed trip home. The small cottage was cleaned up, and necessary items were packed away into two crates, with a week's work of clothing and art supplies stuffed into knit luggage and a traveling art box.

In reality, Westfall was not that far away, but traveling by coach took a great deal longer with the constant stops, dropping off and picking up fare after fare, adding nearly two hours to the hour-long trip. It wasn't all bad, a chance to meet new people as well as time to catch up on some reading.

The early evening sun lit the region up like a land of gold, amber waves of the coming harvest and the sun's beaming rays casting warmth onto Sariah's cheeks, she was home.

"I never think this through." Sariah muttered to herself as she lugged her things the half-mile trek from the road, down the hill, and to the small house by the river. From the garden gate, she called out to her mother, who sat on the covered porch in a weathered rocking chair.

"There's my girl!" Myriah was a stunning woman, even at her age she would be considered the bell of the ball, and Sariah a carbon copy save Myriah's auburn curls and emerald eyes. "Get over here and hug my neck!" She called, standing slowly by the grace of a cane.

Sariah was all smiles until she notice her mother struggle to stand, rushing to her side and all but dropping her things to the ground. "Woah, Mom! What happened?!" She was in a tizzy having been unaware this had occurred.

"Now, don't fret, it only happened this morning." Myriah's arms wrapped around her only child, hugging her tight. "Tripped in the garden and twisted it, nothing dire I swear."

"Well, let's get you sitting down inside. I'll cook."

Word count: 600 Summary: After the guild trip to the hot springs, Attzi enjoys some warmth back at home. Warnings: ...Fluff

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Attzi was resting on her bed, knees up, using her legs as a makeshift desk as she scribbled the day’s summary down into her notebook. Her tiny Everlook room felt very different than her home in Booty Bay; instead of salt air and the constant sound of waves, there was the silence of thick walls insulated by snow. Her bed was covered in a thick, fluffy duvet which didn’t match the flannel sheets underneath. On the far wall, a shelf held more books than was likely safe, as well as a few tattered plushies. A box by the door had half-finished projects she’d practiced with as a child in the family lab. The floor had a thick, but well-worn rug, faintly stained from art supply mishaps. Even the pajamas she was wearing were comfortably faded.

Being here didn’t make her feel like a kid again, but it did make her feel comfortable. Her home had always been a safe place to both live in, and come back to. Honestly, as old as she was, her parents could have easily converted it to a guest bedroom by now, but they had never even suggested it. Attzi knew that if necessary her room would be waiting, and her parents would be glad to have her for as long as she needed.

tw: mental torture (void related, non-descriptive)

              Y’zel flailed his tail or at least tried to as he awoke to the loud creak of The Tutor. A weight seemed upon it, something large and warm upon his back. Half-asleep, he folded his ears, grateful for the added heat as the chill of the sea had finally penetrated the ship's hull. When he went to settle back down, he remembered he wasn’t alone in the cabin. Eyes flinging open, he turned to find G’raha as his bedfellow, half turned on his back and snoring away.

            He couldn’t blame the other, necessarily. Y’zel too, had a habit of searching out a heat source in a sleepy haze, often leading him to strange waking locations. Tail pinned beneath the Scion, he turned the best he could, watching him sleep peacefully before relenting and pressing his forehead against his shoulder. He let out a discreet purr, cheeks flushing lightly as the Scion’s moved to draw him in. Feeling G’raha tremble from the cold, he shrugged his blanket over the both of them, letting the trapped warmth lull him back to sleep in his embrace.