#beloris

     sharp blue eyes narrow in the sin’dorei’s direction as artan stares him down. it takes only one quick glance, from head to toe, for him to have a RUSHED opinion of beloris. clearly unimpressed and without remorse thereof, a disappointed expression twists into a crooked smirk. of all the things going through his mind, not a single one of them could be GOOD. the krokul shrugs nonchalantly as he turns away with a shake of his head .

      ❝ i see why your bird had to do all the heavy lifting . ❞

     a part of her wondered if he had forgotten. the memory seemed a distant one now with all the quiet time left in between. euanthe never seemed to hold anything against anyone, regardless of what it might’ve been. everything happened for a reason. instinct brought a hand to the visible skin of her shoulder, one that now appeared nearly unscathed. being a child of light, she recovered far quicker from injuries that were not severe or did not involve the taint of fel . 

     but such an action is one done without thought. her hands soon return to the thick tresses of hair spread across her back. it’s difficult to recognize the shaman from behind beneath the mass of hair she normally tied up in a braid. very rarely does one find her with it so loose and undone. she had taken only a glimpse over her shoulder, but the face she’d seen was unmistakable. the shaman carefully lifts herself from her spot and pulls the bulk of her hair over a shoulder to her front. it’s difficult to imagine how one is meant to approach another after such circumstances, but there’s a strange sense of relief that comes with his sudden appearance. she finds herself nearly embarrassed by the fact her hair is down and not quite presentable. yet still, it is well tended to. surely it would not keep the sin’dorei from speaking with her, whatever peace he may have had in returning to her. there is much left to be discussed between them, and the thought of it has her a bit curious. a small smile crosses her face as she properly turns to address him, a spark of hopefulness hiding behind her usually cheerful nature . 

      ❝That is alright. I did not expect anything in return. I simply — wanted to get you something.❞

     Euanthe almost seemed to shy away the moment he pulled back on the decorative ribbon stuck to the top of the box. Beneath the cover was a fuzzy inside lined with a swatch of cloth. It provided cushion to a set of neatly folded cuffs, colored red and trimmed with a prominent gold that made the deep red embroidery stand out. Every inch along an even line lay a pale green gem, one more akin to the warlock’s eyes than the Sin’dorei colors. Each shimmered softly in the daylight, their cut and feel lending to their quality. They were all real, and very finely cut. Each one was studded firmly in their place, ensuring their base would not slide or tear easily. They were durable pieces of velvet. Just above them lay a long, unraveled piece that matched the wrists. It was a hair wrap, one that gave a lot of flexibility in how tight or loose the male wished to wrap his hair. The shaman hadn’t failed to take note of how his hair fell on his back. Draenei had a habit of doing all sorts of things with their hair and jewelry. It wasn’t difficult for her to visually see exactly what sort of binding would fit it, even if she did not embrace those luxuries as often as others of her race. It was common knowledge, for the most part. The fabric was soft and it would not develop a destructive static cling. It may have bore designs unsuitable for her kin, but the feel of the pieces themselves would have been something to die for. In truth, Euanthe thought they were quite charming. Beautiful, even. She could only hope that he might share the same sentiments, and that they would fit him the way she had envisioned them to.

     More great OCs from late last night because CLEARLY I hate sleeping.

     Hey, I said I wanted to do more of them. Apparently I wasn’t kidding.

     This time we have “Better and prettier than all of you tbh”, a fluffy cinnamon roll who could actually kill you, an ice cream cone who loves her wolf, and an elfbat who refuses to stay awake. What a fun group. Also known as the “scary but good-looking” bunch. 

     Oh and y’know, click on ‘em for a bigger image.

                                                       █ ▌▐  Drunk Description █ ▌▐                                                                          @beloris

There was that giggling again. Girlish and cheerful, saccharine like the very gloss on her lips from the drinks she had indulged in. What a mess. Yet even though she was more than honest on any given day, perhaps her responses came out much more bluntly in such a state. But the way she cupped her cheek with the palm of her hand, it was almost as though she thought to appear visually pleasing.

     ❝I do not think he likes me very much…❞ her accent was thick. Such      only came out when she had been exhausted or had a little bit too      much to drink. ❝Or at least, does not trust me, completely. It is a      shame… because I like him. Like, I see him. I know… I KNOW      he has a good side to him. Call it woman’s intuition. And I want     to see it.... sooo bad... Because he is important to me. Even if     he will not call me a friend...❞

 {closed starter for @beloris }

Some time had passed since the Naaru had taken sympathy on his wretched self and revived him through their miracles. Kael would never understand it, he was far from deserving after all he had done, but who could argue with the mercy of mystical beings of light.

He was grateful of course, but he had no direction to take his life since it happened. There was no way he could even try to return to his former life. None of his former people would ever accept him back after the measures he had taken. Not that he could blame them. Not a day went by since he took breath again that he wasn't disgusted with himself.

Ever since, he had been in hiding, running away from anywhere he treasured in his old life. Go far from anywhere he could be recognized had been his only plan. He feared the tight quarters of boats and zeppelins. Close contact with anyone for an extended period of time would only increase the chances of being found. As a result, he hadn't left the continent, just traveled south until he couldn't go anymore.

That was how he ended up in Stranglethorn Vale. It’s as far as he can get from Quel'thas and Dalaran with all things considered. Besides, who would expect to find a former Elven prince who should be dead in a troll infested jungle of all places. Booty Bay was far from the nicest city he had been in. However, after spending his last few years alive in Outland, one had learned how to settle.

As of yet, he hadn't seen any elves, but even if he encountered any, he hoped he wouldn't be recognize. His hair had been chopped messy and short and instead of the majestic robes he had become known for, he wore simple worn leather garb.