#faerthurin

Met with the Asphodel woman again today. She went inside my mind and tinkered with things. I wish it wasn’t necessary, but all these things with the Captain have whatever emotions are left in this body of mine all haywire and such. He shouldn’t notice, so I should be able to continue keeping her presence from him for the time being. I am not sure why she insists on it... I think she’s met him before, but I don’t focus too much on her. It’s hard enough putting up with the control she has over me. 

She can bring me to my knees and not in the good way. 

I haven’t been fighting enough. My runic power has built up in a nasty way, and she scolded me for it. But she’s made it so my cravings should only happen once a month--unless I “feed into my negative emotions” like anger and jealousy? Sadness? There isn’t much point to those things anyhow, but I worry about my relations with the Captain and how they will effect this. 

He says he doesn’t care, gives me gifts that are more sentimental than I can handle... I don’t know what to do with him. In the end, it’s always the same. I know he still has severe issues despite the fact that he insists everything is fine as is. And I am not sure I can allow myself to become completely emotionally attached with what I know his plans are. He says it’s all fine now--to live in the present, but I can’t sit on the deck of his ship and stare at the clouds without thinking of what’s going to come out of this. What’s in it for me. I’m a pirate, through and through, and the end has to be a step forward and not a step back. He would argue and say that I am better for the moments we’ve had together, but in the end, there can be only one. 

And he will not choose me. I don’t know if I want him to, like I told him. He’s not a stable man. He is not the type to choose a partner for life. And I am not about to get myself neck deep with this man only for him to leave me emotionally distraught. With what Asphodel told me, that would be very, very bad. 

It’s all easier said than done. When with him, you feel as though anything is possible. He makes me feel like I won’t be completely devastated when he inevitably deserts me, emotionally. 

How did I get myself into this mess? Warned Elendori against it, too. Damn. 

I went and fucked things right up.

In all fairness, it was probably a joint effort, but that doesn’t make it any better. I broke my number one rule. Lasted a while—been decades since I’ve done something so dumb. I don’t know what got in to me this time around. Showering around men has never bothered me. It can’t bother you on a ship with the Bloodsails for a crew. Most are men, and they don’t take too kindly to having to fit a woman’s habits and needs in. Accommodation isn’t their strong suit. They’d likely rather throw you overboard before having to change their routine.

So why this time? The privacy of it all played little part, I feel. His magic? Nah. That probably makes other lasses weak at the knees—and it was nice, no doubt—but it wouldn’t make me fold like I did.

Think it was the way he kept talking like he knew me. Like he cared. Fuck, the idea makes me want to wretch in hindsight. How fuckin’ pathetic do I have to be to crumple like that over a few sweet words. What right did he have to say those things anyway? About me being more “cynical” now, but also more honest. We knew each other for a passing night in a trade town. All I could recall about him was that damn mane.

He was one of many during that time. And I am not foolish enough to think it wasn’t the same in reverse. Life on the seas isn’t some desperate struggle for love. You take what you can, give nothing back. The heart of every pirate lies just beyond the horizon. Ain’t a single use trying to expect any different.

So what’s the point in words?

What’s the point in bringing up his sister and how much I remind him of her? Which must not be as much as he thought if he was so willing to do what he did.

He seems adamant to have it happen again, but I absolutely refuse. It’s a risk to the integrity of the ship—to my position as First Mate. I need to keep the other two confident in me, and that’s not gonna happen with several repeats of that little act. He can try all he wants, but I am done. And it’s not just ‘cause I am “depriving” myself, as he so claims. I don’t need what he can offer. No Death Knight does. At least physically, anyway. I hadn’t been close to anyone like that since being raised—and how can any of us? I was there on the front lines. I played a heavy hand in the decimation of Silvermoon—the slaughter of so many people. My people. He thinks I am just like anyone else? I am a monster, raised to be nothing but a war machine for an undead army.

I think he sees my passion for the sea, and he thinks that I am somehow normal. Or worse, he think I’m like him.

I died never knowing anything else but a love for the life I had chosen. The ocean took me—and I would have gone to Davy Jones happy if that’s where I ended up. It was the Scourge that rose me again and stole that life. It crushed any want I had left for that horizon, and replaced it with a bloodlust so strong that it gave me new purpose. And I wasn’t alone. The army wasn’t unlike a crew. And His voice wasn’t so unlike a Captain’s call.

It’s been hard getting myself back in a place where I can even see where my dreams lie. The Bloodsails treated me like garbage, but if it wasn’t for them, I don’t think I’d remember the adrenaline and excitement of chasing that dream. An endless journey with the wind at your back.

It’s exhilarating.

And that’s why I can’t mess this up.

A dark part of me will always exist. The part that enjoys the hunt—enjoys murder, in all its grotesque beauty. It’s ingrained deep. That excitement isn’t so unlike what I felt in that shower.

Which means it’s a dangerous, dangerous game I chose to play. I rolled the dice, and they came out on mine and Lantis’ favor this time. Who’s to say next time we will be so lucky? Ain’t never been too good at gambling. And beyond the disgust I feel when I realize he could care for a monster like me (only slightly lesser than the disgust I feel when I realize I think he cares at all, which is arguably false), there are just too many dirty strings that go hand in hand with relations like that. The kind that tie you down and put your destiny into someone else’s grasp.

That’s not a life I want. Freedom is in the journey—the chase. The fate of all seafarers and swashbucklers alike is to die never attaining that dream, so we can realize that it was the memories created along the way that formed a “destiny.”

Some may think that’s sad, but how can you ever live to the fullest if you become content where you are? Settling down, giving your heart over to be caged by another, living in a place where nothing ever changes—is that what my people call happiness? No. I know better.

I got to play it safer from now on. I am never going to be put in a position where my heart could be anywhere but at world’s end. And I will claw my way to it if I have to, but I will never stop moving.

Faerthurin Lantis thinks he can make me feel alive?

How ironic. He and I both know that the sea is the only one with that right. Anything else is only a temporary fix or a passing whim.

It had been a long day.

To say the very least.  

She’d been having difficulty with an alchemical compound, a buyer for one of the company’s contracts had been dodging her attempts to collect and she’d been forced into a three hour long conversation with her pompous Magister cousin about the relative merits of marriage to a nobleman.

She either needed to punch something, hard and repeatedly, or she was going to have to find a nice quiet spot in which to relax and clear her mind.

Thus it was that she’d donned her bathing clothes, collected two bottles of Hearthglen Ambrosia and made her way to the Veiled Stair to enjoy the quiet warmth of the hot springs.  She’d only visted a handful of times, generally for more raucous intent than she had currently, but it seemed as though few bothered with the trip, so she was likely assured of some quality time with absolutely no one at all.

As it would turn out, that was apparently asking entirely too much.

The heat of the pools was welcome, despite the warm summer day as she made her way out of the inn.  Steam drifted in lazily swirling whorls, obscuring the shimmering air, while the bamboo piping sent a tinkling spray of water across the pool at rhythmic intervals.  She stood for a moment, simply breathing the damp air into her lungs, allowing the tension that had set her shoulders rigid to slowly begin to bleed away.  

“Well, well, well.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were stalking me, Freckles.”

No, no, no, no, no. 

She really didn’t want to open her eyes, because she knew who that voice belonged to.  Which meant that any chance at relaxation, had just flown right back to Azeroth.

One bright, felflame eye peeked its way open, taking in the sight of none other than Ferthurin.  Partially reclined in the waist deep water, muscled arms resting lightly along the tile ledge, he looked as serene as she’d hoped to be by the end of this trip.

“In your dreams, Magic Man,” she muttered by way of reply, unable to help the slightly bitter edge to her tone.

They stared across the hazy air at one another for several long, silent moments before he gave an expectant nod.  "Well, you comin’ in?  The water’s fine.“

She wavered.  The idea of sharing the springs with Faer wasn’t exactly the most calming, but she had come all this way.  And she really needed a break.

“Fine.  But you stay over on that side.  And no talking.”

He held up both hands in apparent surrender, not that she trusted that for a moment, and she quickly divested herself of her overclothes, a hint of color warming her cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat of the springs.  

“I–”

He’d opened his mouth just as she dipped her toe beneath the surface of the water and she shot him a stern glance, jabbing a forefinger in his direction.  "Ah!“

A lazy grin played at his lips as he obliged her, for the moment, and she all but melted into the springs with a small groan.  

Minutes ticked by; the silent tranquility a balm for her overworked mind.  No sudden splashes.  No attempts at idle conversation.  She'd almost forgotten he was there.

Who knew?  When he wasn’t talking, he was one of her favorite people.

The contract had gone poorly; or as Kairielle liked to think of it, exactly as expected.  She wasn’t certain if bad luck plagued her specifically, given its following from Ravenwood, or if it was a trait inherited by all mercenaries when they picked up their blades and bows and decided to make their living by selling them.  

Regardless, many had been injured, the worst of which was Faerthurin.  

He’d been rushed to the infirmary at the base, unconscious and covered in more blood than it seemed was capable of residing in his body.

Now, the huntress paced nervously just outside the room in which the healers worked feverishly, attempting to draw the man back from the brink of death.  She muttered beneath her breath, gesturing vaguely at nothing in particular every now and again.  The cold stone was littered with small, glinting pins; torn from the chaos of curls that now tumbled down her back as she nervously dragged her hands through them again and again.

Her mind in tumult, contemplating just how she might tell his significant other that he’d died while under her command, she nearly missed the exhausted healer exiting the room.

Nearly.

“How is he?!” she demanded, all but pouncing upon the wan man.

“Fine, he’s going to be fine.”

Releasing the relieved breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding, Kai laughed softly.  "Can I see him?“

"Of course, but you should just gi–”

Impatient as ever, she didn’t catch the last bit of the healer’s warning, throwing the door wide and catching Faerthurin unawares, standing in the middle of the room, as naked as the day he was born.

“Uh… I…”

Wide-eyed, the crimson-haired woman couldn’t help herself as her eyes traversed the length of his heavily muscled frame.  Broad shoulders, corded biceps… Ah!  Look away!  Look away!  Two brilliant pink spots warmed her cheeks as she simply stood and gaped, apparently unable to take the rather sound advice that blared within her mind like a warning.

As her wayward gaze returned from its perusal, it was met with a rather smug smirk.  "You finished?“ Faer inquired lazily.

Squeaking in the most undignified manner possible, she fled the room, the door slamming behind her.  

Yeah.  He was gonna be fine.