#day62021

Who didn’t love dogs? Khaeris couldn’t help her kittenish grin, it caused her dimples to bloom slowly in her cheeks. She pushed the corgi-illusion goggles up and leaned and kissed Pollux’s cheek. Mwah! He’d been a very dashing tri-color. “The dog version was cute, but you’re was even handsomer now.” He chuckled, mid-sip on his stein. Her eyes drooped in sleepy, tipsy contentment. It had been a festival’ish sort of week! Tail end of the Harvest Festival. She’d enjoyed wandering with Pyraelia. The Pandaren Mid-Autumn festival. She’d eaten mooncakes with Pollux and watched the lantern lighting. Fireworks were a solitary joy there, but a joy nonetheless. And now they were at Brewfestival for the weekend. Orgrimmar was delightful, and easier to enjoy than Dun Morogh--though that was her favorite one. She’d enjoy the rams here and talking with some of the Dark Iron that made the trek to Kalimdor, though. She bought her own ram a new harness and some bells for up by his horns--he’d like that. All in all, it was a good week. Soon enough the festivals would end, but for now, it was a treat that would stretch into an actual holiday season itself. She lifted her mug to take a drink of her beer. Her nose crinkled up.

Ew! Was that dog hair?!

@daily-writing-challenge

Day 6

Countless days had come and gone since the demise of Teague Manor. It had been a day that carried a heavyweight for the paladin. The beginning of a world of struggles neither she nor her brother had thought they would face for decades to come. Reflecting back over the events that transpired since, Rian had worn an array of hats from a ward, guard, Countess, lady regent, mother, sister, partner, enemy, hero.

Dismounting the warhorse, Duke, she hung the reins on the saddle horn and stepped into the ruins of the old manor house. It had been her childhood home. In the silence of the clearing, she could almost hear the laughter of games played with her brother and family. Voices of memories past of lessons the Lady Elizabeth, her mother had taught. The reassurance from her father and stepfather. The arguments that transpired when the adults had thought she and Theron had gone to bed.

Each seeming more familiar to her than her present existence. "You'll understand when you're older,' her mother had said. Probably a sentiment most adults used when trying to console their children or more youthful feeble minds. The promise of understanding with age and experience. A decade later, Rian still felt the lack of understanding, with choices governed by old lessons while in reality, she felt the weight of being an imposter to the title.

"I don't know if you can hear me," She started kneeling down amidst the overgrown rubble. "I hope that you can though I hope that if you do it has not hindered your ability to find peace in whatever amounts to the afterlife on this world. I've heard stories and rumors from the shadowlands. Some days I wonder if it is worth the journey just to see you one more time."

Resting back on her heels, Rian lifted her face to the dimly lit sky of Duskwood. "I often find myself feeling small and numb and altogether lost. Like I've lost my purpose and passion for so many things we fought over. I'm sorry I wasn't the daughter you wanted. Despite our quarrels, you were always the type of woman I had aspired to be."

"I often reflect back on your lessons. To your warmth and grace. I am still left with so many questions. I wish you could see Theron and me now. While we struggle to find our meaning in life, I wonder if we do you proud. He's still struggling to find his place, it's proven more of a challenge since his return from captivity in Kalimdor."

"So much now feels like an obscene game of make-believe. How am I to be a good mother when I feel like a small child lost in the woods. I try to remember the lessons you taught us, and I wish I could say that they were enough. If you ever felt as alone as I when you are surrounded by those you love, I am so deeply sorry I was not a better daughter. If I had argued less or... light only knows. There are times I am not certain that it even does."

"Wherever you are, you are loved and so very missed. Serenity grows in leaps and bounds. She's made a friend. Her smile through dark curls and bluest eyes you've ever seen are the whole world," Rian lowered her gaze and closed her eyes as if in prayer. She let the memories play just behind her eyes of the lifetimes before in hopes that one might relay some form of guidance for the days to come.

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 6 - Festival

Warning: Wound description

Aerden had been thankful for the invitation from Pyraelia to the Harvest Festival, he needed the distraction from his own thoughts and this presented the perfect opportunity. After having spent so many months in Maldraxxus and then in The Maw, he had nearly forgotten that youthful spirit he was known for.

Every deployment took little pieces of him away and it often took weeks, maybe even months, to fill those empty spaces upon his return home. He knew that it was probably obvious to Pyra, there were moments when he would stare off into the distance and go quiet, or he would be so lost in his head that he completely missed what she had just said to him. There were a handful of times that he apologized for it, but it obviously never upset her.

They ate too much, they drank too much, he pet every single animal he could in the petting zoo, and he even won a few little prizes from the game booths - most of which he gifted to Pyra. Slowly he found himself dwelling less and less about the months prior. Keeping occupied and active was definitely the key, and for a moment he did consider asking to come over to her place later. But that thought was quickly pushed aside, he wasn’t quite ready to talk about his experiences in The Maw just yet and no doubt some questions would have come up.

He arrived back home at his small apartment in Silvermoon late at night; exhausted, full, a little tipsy, and definitely sore. The doctors had cautioned him to take it easy until the healing process was fully complete, and he had for the most part. More than he usually would, at least.

Shuffling into the bathroom, he bent forward to pull his shirt over his head and dump it in the nearby hamper. A hand pressed against the bandages on his left side as he looked himself over in the mirror. It had wept through just a little, nothing to be too worried over. He gently pulled the bandage away, tossing it into the waste bin before allowing the healing green mists to seep into the darkened flesh beneath. 

It looked much better than it had a week ago. The necrosis had stopped and now it was just a matter of trying to reverse the damage done. Thankfully there had been very little internal deterioration since he caught it soon enough, but the large wound had proven to be a nuisance to heal. The main bulk of it was nearly black in color and roughly the size of his hand, with lighter tendrils fanning and curling out in all directions. Not a type of injury seen very often, so he wasn’t certain what to expect during the healing process, or if it would leave a scar. His doctor wasn’t certain either, and for that reason kept a very close eye on it. Aerden would probably find it ‘cool’ if it wasn’t on his own person, but right now it was just kind of gross and no one else needed to see it.

After applying the balm he had been given, he covered the wound up with a fresh bandage and retired to his bed. Thankfully, sleep came quickly. Tomorrow he would have to find some other sort of distraction.

Brewfest had always been one of Dicenne’s favorite holidays for both obvious and personal reasons. Beer and grilled meats of all varieties spoke to the man on a deep level as anyone that knew him was already aware of, but it was the nostalgia of annually visiting the festival with his father, Arconis, that was his favorite. He missed the man dearly, and while he had made many new memories with Kara, Felon, and others, there was always that pang of grief and yearning for times long past. Even without him, Dice still took it upon himself to honor their long standing traditions, now with friends. 

He had been surprised when Daxion returned the comm message so quickly, having assumed that the man was probably still out in the Shadowlands doing Light knows what with the rest of the Blood Knights. It had been his birthday recently, and it had been a long time since Dicenne checked in on his friend, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity to catch up. Plus, he knew that Dax was just as fond of Brewfest beers and foods as himself.

Despite it having been nearly a year since the duo spent any amount of significant time together, it was easy to fall back into their friendship. It was obvious that the Shadowlands had done a number on the newly-promoted Champion, catching him caught up in the occasional thousand-yard stare or the sudden reach for a weapon that wasn’t there anytime a glass shattered. The life of a full-time soldier was difficult, Dicenne understood completely and he would do his best to keep the other man occupied.

One of the traditions was to sample every single drink and every platter of food that Brewfest had to offer, and given the number of new vendors this would be no easy task. About halfway through the two were already well into tipsy territory, borderline drunk. 

“Do you have anyone in your life like that?”

Daxion wasn’t known for his lengthy relationships given his focus on the military. At this point he wasn’t even sure he had officially been in a relationship, “No, no. No time for that. Although if I were to find something like you and Dyra have, then maybe that could work out, but I don’t exactly get out a lot. Unless we’re talking about war, then I get out there all the time.” He was definitely one of those soldiers married to his job.

“That’s fair. No one you’re even interested in, a fellow Knight?”

The Knight hesitates for a moment, “I did consider asking Lady Liadrin out on a date once. Doesn’t seem appropriate though, does it? Not that she would even consider.”

Dicenne smirked to himself, hiding the expression with a sip of beer before speaking again. Poker face was bad when drinking.  “At least you would be on the same schedule.”

“What was that? That look?” Daxion squinted.

“What look?”

“That cheeky little grin when I mentioned Lia---” Dax tilted his head to one side, eyes going wide. “She hired YOU, didn’t she?!” He probably looked like a kid on Winter Veil morning at that sudden assumption. “You know there was talk going around... Amberlight, you stud!”

Dicenne held up his hand, shaking his head, “Let me stop you right there, this is how rumors get started.”

“There’s already a rumor!”

“Ready for the next round?” Topic change!

“You did not deny it.”

Dice leveled a look on the other man before rolling his eyes and shaking his head with a grin. He wrapped an arm around the other’s shoulders, leading them towards the next vendor.

“I could kiss you right now you beautiful man.”

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep, Dax.”

Winter’s veil was goblin greed. Hallows end was a sham. The lunar new year was elven hullabaloo. Most of Azeroth’s festivals meant absolutely nothing to the mad warlock. All except one: Brewfest.

It was Brewfest and Brewfest alone that would put a pause to his dastardly ways and let him live life as an ordinary man. For a couple weeks a year, Percival would give up sacrifices and abductions, spells and summons, all so he could indulge with his now growing family in strong ale and prezels. Rolled ribs, pickled cabbage and boar tails. All the hallmarks of the best festival in all realities.

This year was no different. Souvineer steins were added to his already obnoxious collection. A new pair of lederhosen for himself and a matching one for his wife. This time with some dark iron fiery design.

His jiggly stomach was put to the test as he engaged in sausage eating contests, only to lose to fat pandaren.

His racing skills were proven as he rode the backs of stinking rams in races. Why the cruel summoner even volunteered to bark for his favourite brewery, Thunderbrew, for an afternoon.

And when the dwarven polka played, he danced.

No one embodied the spirit of Brewfest quite like Percival. Even some dwarves could be put to shame with how hard he partied. No human loved this holiday like he did. The newer members of his family seeing a side to him that if they hadn’t seen it for themselves, they’d never believe it to be true.

A teenage stepdaughter might be a bit more abrasive to the idea of such boisterous and foreign revelry. But an infant child? Percival could mould the little one as he saw fit. Raise him to learn to love Brewfest just as much as he did. The first step? Teeny tiny lederhosen!

- Suramar, some 7,000 years ago

“Mr. Stone, they tell me you like to be called thus yes?” He was part of the aristocracy of Suramar, in recent years he’d become an elf of exceptional wealth, power and influence thus a thorn in many of their sides among the courts. I had a vague notion why he summoned me here. This tycoon wanted someone dead. “Speaking.” It was all the more confirmation he needed. “Just as short spoken as promised too, how delightful.” He purred with a certain eloquence that I was not overly fond of. Typical for those higher up. “Allow me to make this short then for you, I’ve use for an elf of your ‘talents’ and I would like you to fight for me in an honor duel.” It wasn’t the first time I’d witnessed Tal’ashar among the courts, nor the first time I’d seen someone of my family asked to be a champion. The question was… did he know? I didn’t give an inch as to what I was thinking, just stared at him in silent thought. “I know you’ve been laying low for some time now Mr. Stone, and while I respect your reasoning I believe it’s time for you to stop wasting your talents with petty thieves and corrupted officials. When you win this duel for me, I will offer you a contract you can’t refuse to further aid me and those I seek to protect.” I still said nothing, just narrowed my eyes a bit more. Where was he getting his intel, or was he that overly confident? I just wasn’t buying it, I was missing something. “I assure you Mr. Stone, I am quite serious about this and will happily explain what I envision and seek to build but first I must make a grand statement that I am not an elf to be trifled with. And to do that, I need not just any champion. I need you.” He said firmly as he gave a nod to the guardsman at the back door. The door opened far behind me, but I didn’t have to turn to look, I knew the moment I heard his voice. “Well hey there kid…” A voice I hadn’t heard since since the Filandau state fell. For a Shal’dorei, he’d been hit with the ugly stick one too many times course considering what our former lord had done to him I don’t think many could have recovered from it the way he had. I stared at lord before me now as he was studying my every reaction, I gave him none. “What, pretendin’ ya don’ know who I am? Ch’... whatever.” Jaques threw up his arms then crossed them as he leaned into the doorway of the door the guardsman still held open. “Look the guy’s got a good gig, pays better than tha’ shit ya been doin’ lately too. I wouldn’ have outed ya if I didn’ believe tha’. Last thing I need is ya huntin’ my ass next.” The sound of his voice still made my skin crawl. The tycoon stared right at me with those eyes of his and in those moments I saw something other than arrogance. Whatever it was, this elf was driven by something other than wealth and greed. I didn’t know what it was, but it he had a steadfast determination in him that did peak my interest. It was only a glimmer of a moment but he let me see in that cool calm gaze of his far more than what any words would have told me. “I need you to be my champion, but what I need more is for you to make my statement for me loud and clear. Do not toy with them Mr. Stone. I need this fast, efficient, and very clear who champions for me now.” Whatever he was planning, he was banking everything on the scare tactics my lineage could provide. I didn’t know why yet… but if Jaques was here he knew all he needed to know about me and what I was capable of. “If I agree, our contract will conclude the moment the rite is completed.” “It will, if you so choose. I will waste no more of your time. Though I would ask only that you hear me out after and what I would like to further propose to you before you go.” I was well aware that this could mean my death, but I was just as equally confident it would not be me who lost the dual as Lord Lumenstone was that I’d win. He wanted a statement made to strike fear in the court who sought to get in his way, that much was clear. What wasn’t clear was what they were trying to stop him from doing. I knew too little, only that Sivandris’s rise to

power had been exceptional enough to draw unwanted attention. But what on Azeroth could catch Jaques’s attention enough to bring him here? And just how desperate was this lord to want him? “I accept.” ~~~~~~~~

Day 6, DWC 2021

There was something about Brewfest that felt comforting. Despite the general ruckus that occurred when you put together crowds of drunk patrons all in one confined space, the famous beer festival always held onto the essence that made it so enjoyable to many; no-nonsense revelry where citizens from all over Azeroth and every walks of life came together to enjoy food and drink together. It was the simplicity of it that Ainsley found she enjoyed the most.

That, and spending many of her earlier years in Dun Morogh where the locals made sure that Brewfest had a special place in your heart.

It was also the one holiday that she especially shared with her brother Arrington, and though the two of them would finish off the week’s festivities barely remembering anything through their hungover haze, it gave them some semblance of joy to spend time with one another before they were separated once more and pulled back to their respective duties.

Active deployment had caused her to miss the festivities within the past several years, so Ainsley counted her blessings for finally being able to return to the event. And now she wandered the grounds as the celebrations of the final few days of festivities continued, vigilantly on medic duty and sampling the finest meats, breads, and other various assortments of spreads she could land her hands on.

It certainly had been a cacophonous week. But that was Brewfest. And as the priestess walked around, mingling with the various patrons and sharing in their joy and merriment, she couldn’t help but think that it did, indeed, have a very special place in her heart.

Unlike assignments to keep tabs on the Amani, time spent around Humans was far more pleasant. There was also quite a bit more freedom. Remaining concealed from Humans was optional, and while many took that option Leo'mar preferred the opportunity to learn more up close.