#bansheeqceen

“Move along.”

Awakening seemed to be a chore. He felt...strange. Laying upon a table, he had pushed him torso up until he was looking at none other than Sylvannas. While he had never met the Banshee Queen himself, he had heard stories. And yet it puzzled him to why he was in the Undercity, and not being tortured. Far as he knew, Humankind hadn’t allied with the Forsaken. Then she questioned him over his memory, of who he had served. Serving the Lich King? Jon thought that a joke, and was about to say so when a bit slipped through. He remembered being raised, fighting with the Scourge rather than against them. If his pallor skin could pale further, it did. “I...I remember...pieces. It’s all hazy from the Wrath Gate on...” He paused. Looking at his hands, he saw the unnatural pallor that his skin took. Bright blue eyes darted toward Sylvannas, swallowing hard. “I’m...I’m one of you now...aren’t I?”

     he had, during her visit to the alliance's capital, made certain to keep her away from those he knew would not so easily discard their GRUDGE against the undead. anduin faulted neither party for their ways, seeking only to prevent words from being thrown and subsequent blood from being shed. at the docks, the SOMBER aura sylvanas wore proved one he could sense with relative ease, leading to the gesture in question. “part of being an EMPATH, i think. i figured you don't get to feel the sensation very often, if at all.”

The calm of the night had always entranced her so it was no surprise she was awake and gazing upon the expanse of darkness before her.  When the approaching footsteps finally gained her attention she turned her head just in time to observe the banshee queen moving to sit in her lap.  Without a word, she leaned against the stone pillar of the temple and wrapped an arm around her waist.  If she had stopped to make sense of any of this perhaps it would have set off any number of alarms in her head.  Instead, her focus settled upon the queen before her, free hand moving to rest upon the exposed skin as she exhaled gently upon her shoulder - lost in the peace of the moment.

The sudden weight of Sylvannas on his lap drew his gaze up, cold blue eyes roaming up her form. His throat was tight, hands slowly moving as if unsure if they should be moving at all. Gingerly his touch rested upon her thighs, his gaze traveling upward until he was holding hers. Lips curled lightly, the cracks at the edges seeming to grow a little wider from it. “Comfy, My lady?”

“How….How many times…A-am I going to die…?” Jon whispered to Sylvannas, the blue of his eyes starting to fade already. Vision was starting to go while the damn near frozen blood dripped from his wounds. He couldn’t remembered what happened, it had come so fast. An attack on the Banshee Queen, while Jon stood guard. The attacker was as dead as dead could be, with Jon on the way to join them. He could remember the burn of the poison at the wrath gate, feel it eating at his lungs, inside out. He could remember a half-death in the service of the Lich King, On the floor of Icecrown, he fought against the Argent Crusade, taking a lance in the side. The Lich King didn’t allow him to die. And now he was bleeding out in the Banshee Queens quarters. “Will I die…again?”

ϟ- ‘Why is her skin purple? And why can’t my skin be purple? It’s such a nice color..’