#febday12022

This is sort of a continuation of Xylaes’s storyline in Maldraxxus searching for his late wife, Callia. You can find those stories --> Here!

@daily-writing-challenge

She could be so soft, so peaceful at times. Those moments were few and far between, but it was within them that he had accidentally fallen in love with her. After having spent almost his entire life constantly giving himself to the Silvermoon Military, what would it hurt if he took a little something just for himself? Just a few moments of serenity to forget about his purpose, and the fact that he would eventually have to betray them all and leave. 

She was never his target; it was little lies like these that he told himself to make himself believe that what he was doing was okay. Somewhere in the back of his mind he always knew that it would end poorly. Of course it would! He was an enemy in enemy lands, working in deep cover for his homeland to further their own cause. He lied to and manipulated them all as he had been taught to do, and he was damn good at it. 

Callia, however, he never saw coming. She was bold and brash, always took what she wanted, and was the one to make the first move on him. It aided him well in his endeavor since she was one of the Sentinels that helped to guard his actual target. A target that had defected, who had way too much information to give and needed to be disposed of. There were other reasons for his current assignment, but the one in particular  was of utmost importance to the higher-ups, and eventually the reason he had been labeled a traitor.

He eagerly fell into bed with Callia, and unwittingly fell in love with her. That was the beginning of the end for the both of them. Not that his being alive and her being dead because of him could compare, but there were plenty of times that he wished he had suffered that same fate. The treason of his own fellow soldiers, the murder of Callia, the ten years of prison, the inability to even see his son, and now the general hatred from the military because he was allowed back in society when a sentence like that should have earned him an execution: It was a lot to deal with. He deserved it, he decided, for what he had done to her. He wasn’t a good man, even if he had managed to find, and dispose of, traitors within their own ranks. He would be their scapegoat, that would be his fitting punishment.

Finding Callia within Maldraxxus had been a shock to them both, and she reacted with anger as he expected. All the horrors that had happened to him within the House of Constructs was another rightful punishment for what he had done to her, even if that’s never what she had intended for him. 

After over a decade of having this constant pit of anger and sorrow in his stomach and a massive void in his chest, being able to see her and talk with her had been freeing in ways he could never have imagined before. He had meant to visit her only once more after fulfilling her request of gifting a photograph of himself with their son, but it was so easy to go visit her anytime he wanted. She was a portal and a flight away, and knowing that at any moment that could be taken from him, he visited often. It wasn’t healthy for either of them, and they both admitted as much, but she never told him to stop and he never told anyone back on Azeroth where he was going. They would try to talk him out of it, convince him that he was only hurting himself in the end. He already knew this, he didn’t need to hear it too.

Fingers brush silver hair from her face as she lay against his chest with eyes shut. She smiles, but doesn't dare move from the comfort of his embrace. This was one of those soft and peaceful moments and he could immediately feel the swell of emotion, no longer the void, within his chest. “I wish you could see our boy, I can’t believe how tall he is already.”

Callia traces her fingers against his chest, eyes fluttering open to tilt her face to him, “I do too, I miss him every moment of every day. But you cannot bring Garren to the Shadowlands, I won’t allow it. It’s too much.”

“I don’t think his guardians would allow that either, they barely allow him to visit me when I’m IN Moonglade.”

“I hate that. I wish I could talk to them for you. He’s your son, you have every right to see him.”

“I understand why they’re hesitant. They’re just trying to protect him.” Callia exhales an annoyed sigh before sitting up and hiding her frustration by tending to the nearby fire, going quiet. Xylaes could see how much she wanted to see her son, the pictures and stories were nice, but she had so little time with Garren before she was killed. “...Do you thi-” He cut himself off from finishing that thought. It was a topic that had been swirling around within his mind for months now and he was uncertain how she would react. Fuck it. “Do you think that there’s a way to bring you back to Azeroth?”

She looks over her shoulder with an incredulous expression, “Don’t be foolish, the dead cannot leave the Shadowlands.”

“Well. Why not? Do you know anyone that’s tried?”

“Even if it were possible, I wouldn’t be…” She gestures to herself, suggesting the physical form she possesses here in Maldraxxus. “This body does not exist anymore there on Azeroth.”

“There are objects where one can store souls, what if…” What if, what? What if they took her soul out of the Shadowlands and shoved her into some unsuspecting vessel? What if they did that and couldn’t get the soul out of that body? What if even attempting that would force her soul into The Maw? There were too many what if’s in this scenario. “I don’t know. Just a thought.” He shakes his head and sits up, scooting himself in behind her to warm himself by the fire. Strong arms wrap around her muscular frame as he presses a kiss to her cheek.

“What would Lady Tel’vaeil think?” She smirks to herself. Ironically enough, Fiorenze was the one who helped Xylaes find his late wife. The two women were exact opposites and didn’t get along the best, but Callia respected her and everything she had done for Xylaes.

What would Fiorenze think? The two had been growing closer again and he did have feelings for her. Here he was yet again, leading two very different lives. It was difficult to escape old habits. What a mess. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t even think it’s possible.”

“It’s a nice thought though, isn’t it?” It wasn’t that Callia disliked her placement within the Shadowlands. Maldraxxus was perfect for her in some ways, but there were many comforts she missed. Her life led her to this very place; this is what she deserved, but she was also aware that she didn’t deserve to die when and how she did. “Being able to talk to him face to face, to hug him and hold him in my arms…”

The want and the pain in her voice was more than enough to plant that seed in Xylaes’s mind. There had to be a way to get her out of the Shadowlands, at least for a little while. Maybe for good.

Daily Writing Challenge 2022 Day 1 - Love / Regret

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Her heart pounded as she stood at the base of the stairs, sucking in a breath as the hem of her white dress trailed gracefully in the water. This was a special occasion, one which they had agreed upon doing just for his parents alone. Of course they’d have another ceremony back in Azeroth with her family and all their friends, but when else would they get the chance to have Hyacin and David here? What if they missed the opportunity and the Shadowlands closed forever?Seeing them standing together beside their son - waiting for her to walk up the stairs to join them.... It was surreal.  As she held hands with Barry, her mind drifted to so many places while the small golden steward started to speak. From the look in his eyes, it was clear he had just as much emotion to show as she did - and she was trying to hold her tears back. It wouldn’t work though. She knew it wouldn’t. His words moved her to tears, despite being caught off guard a little. Of course, they hadn’t prepared completely, but everything had been spoken from the heart. Why write things to say, when they could be said at that moment - while truly experiencing that next big step. -- It was a day that Hyacin and David would have never thought they’d ever see, even with Barry finding them in the afterlife. Through Hyacin’s tears and David’s cheers, they’d all come together as one family now.  A love that ran so deep for all. One that the two now joined, would have never thought they’d experience in their lives, nor that the proud mother and father would have ever thought they’d been able to witness. @golden-pocket​ for mentions

“So that was Suramar?” Helion grinned boyishly, his booted heels tapping back against the edge of the promenade they’d been catching up on, the rosy clouds passing well beneath them.

Lyn nodded, smiling a bit despite herself. He’d always loved to travel and see new places. The chance to get out of Quel’thalas in the Second War had been so irresistible to him — to them both, really. “Yeah, that was Suramar. It’s a beautiful place, I fought there for a little bit. Helped with the early push into the Nighthold.”

“There were stars in the trees, I liked that. And so many different kinds of people, too. The world’s really opened up, it seems. Do you like doing that? The performing? You always had a good voice,” he leaned over just enough to bump her with his shoulder.

“It’s alright, it was nice to take you back and dance with you, even if only briefly. I do feel at times, especially of late, that I don’t quite fit in there. Everyone else is so bright and flashy…There’s so much going on with the Shadowlands, too, I do have a duty to you and everyone else I put here to see that things get set right so that you can all rest,” she shrugged and looked back towards the great doors that led into the feasting hall. “It makes it hard to be part of it, sometimes.”

He pushed some of his long, blonde hair back out of his face before giving his living wife an appraising look, one she’d seen countless times before, “You’re burying things in the truths again, Lyn. If you joined for someone else, you can tell me. I’ve been dead for a long time, I’d hoped you’d find somebody to love you better than I did.”

He’d always been able to see through her so quickly, but that was a consequence of having lived together after aging out of the orphanage. Of being friends, lovers and spouses for centuries. She didn’t want to admit he was right, stubborn as she’d always been, “I don’t think I’ll ever find someone that loves me better than you did, Lion. Different, maybe, someday. Great in their own way. I’m not sure I’m that lucky, though.”

“Ahhh, it didn’t work out, got it,” he grinned and winked at her, knowing full well there would be some kind of retaliation. What’s the worst she could do? He was dead.

“Helion I will shove you off this afterlife…” She wasn’t able to keep the thread of annoyance out of her tone.

He leaned forward a little to look down at the mysterious expanse below them, she wouldn’t, this wasn’t a river or hay pile he could crawl back out of, “Alright, alright. So long as you don’t regret it, in the end. Joining, I mean. And performing sometimes.”

Lyn smiled at him again, fondness overtaking anything else the teasing dredged up, “I don’t. But, you and I both know nothing lasts forever. Maybe my purpose is elsewhere, because that’s where I need to go, you know? Something’s coming, I can feel it, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

He shrugged and tossed her a small smile, “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

@daily-writing-challenge

Warnings: offscreen character death, me struggling with a new speech syntax

Summary: Attzi has dinner with her family. (Attzi is also a new character, and there are no additional stories from her perspective. Jump in while it’s easy!)

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Attzi sat at one of the two tables her parents had pushed together in their dining room to make space for everyone to be together. One was square, and the other was round, but they were making it work all the same. Her family was scattered into the chairs surrounding the tables, helping themselves to food as they chattered. She counted her mother, her father, her aunt and uncle, and her five cousins. Everyone had made it tonight, which was great. She’d put herself at the bottom of the last table so that she could use her right ear to keep track of the conversations. A muted buzz sounded off to her left, but she was used to that.

“Attzi, that outfit looks amazin’,” called one of her cousins, which triggered a series of agreements from around the table. Most eyes fell on her, and so she grinned and paused eating so she could reply.

“Thanks! I got a new tailor. He’s a real nice guy, an’ he’s got a great eye for what looks good on me, ya know?”

Her mother’s head tilted. “Is that because there’s interest there?”

Attzi shook her head and tried to stifle a laugh behind her steak knife. “Ma, if there was interest, I wouldn’t be wearin’ the clothes he got me. Y'know me.”

She sighed, and Attzi cheerfully and pre-emptively rolled her eyes. She knew what was coming next. So did her father, apparently, because he cut her mother off, raising his voice ever-so-slightly from the other end of the mismatched tables.

“Didja get new jewelry? I don’t recognize the chain ya got on your belt.”

Of course he’d notice that; he was a jeweler, and had made everything Attzi wore. She rummaged around in her pocket and pulled out a golden watch, unlatching the chain with a claw so she could set it on the table.

Her aunt gasped as her silverware clattered onto her plate. “That’s– That’s Fyx’s! I never thought I’d see that watch in one piece again.”

The table fell silent, and Attzi felt her last truly clear memory roll to the surface of her mind as she pushed the button that would flip the watch’s case open.

****

“It’s good t’ see ya outta the workshop,” her mother had said, setting two paper bags on the kitchen counter. “The two of you’ve practically been livin’ there.”

“Fyx needs help, and I ain’t got nothin’ better ta do.” Attzi had been struggling to get her parka back on as she replied; winter had come to Everlook with a vengeance that year. She’d finally managed the zipper, and had pulled the hood up over her ears, ringing her vision in fur as her mother continued.

“Your pa could always teach you his trade, Atz.” Her mother frowned slightly. “Y’already gather half his supplies for him!”

“Right. Exactly. I like helpin’ family.” She’d pointed a clawed finger at her mother. “Now, thanks for lunch. Gotta run. He’s addin’ power to everythin’ today, t’see if we’ve got all the wirin’ right.”

“No problem. Have fun, the both a' ya.” Her mother had shaken her head, but she'd been smiling.

Attzi had grabbed the lunch bags before putting on her gloves, which she’d realized immediately was going to turn out to be a problem. Walking quick, then. She’d shouldered the door to the house open, and then began her trek down the block to the family’s workshop, lungs burning with each breath.

The smell had been the first thing to tip her off as she'd gotten close. The air had been sharp, and full of ozone, and something in it had been making the hair at the back of her neck tingle. It’d only taken Attzi a second to realize that her cousin had turned the machine on without her being there. She’d bolted into a run, dropping their lunches into the snow in her hurry.

But she hadn’t been in her work boots, which she used when she went out mining for ore and gems. Those had cleats, and could handle snow and ice. Her shoes that day had been meant for the lab, and so had next to no power to grip the slick and powdery ground beneath her. Attzi had slipped before she could get to the building’s entrance, landing on her back in the middle of the road and knocking the breath out of her lungs.

She’d been struggling to get up when there was a crackle, and then a boom. Her left ear had popped painfully, and then silenced into a soft ring as she’d been knocked hard away by the blast. She'd gone skidding across the street and against the wall of the far building. Everything had blossomed hot against her skin for a moment, and then she’d lost consciousness.

****

“Attzi? Atz.”

She shook her head to clear it, coming back into the present with a jolt. Her aunt and uncle were holding out their hands, quietly asking for the watch. She leaned over the table, passing it over to the closest hand. The pair inspected it silently before trading it down the line, letting Fyx’s brothers and sisters see his former favorite watch, as well. His family’s fingers ran along the case, now free of scorch marks and dents, and held it to their ears to listen to it tick.

Her whole family loved watches. She knew just from the looks on their faces that to them, the tick was as good as a heartbeat.

“Fyx'd be thrilled it was workin' again,” her aunt managed, at last passing it back across the table.

“It’s better than whole,” Attzi replied, jaw setting a bit grimly as she returned the watch to its place at her side. “It can turn back time.”

She didn’t regret, not usually. Tinnaire was not the kind of person to dwell. Mistakes--many mistakes--had been made, but you learned, you did better, and didn’t make the same mistake again. Wallowing wasn’t likely to improve anything, so she tried not to sink into the emotional muck. Still, it was an important day. No matter what ended up happening, she was confident that tomorrow could only be better.

Tinnaire smiled down on the streets of Silvermoon from her apartment. Late afternoon pooled warm sunshine on the wide avenue beneath her apartment. A cloud of butterflies fluttered peacefully on an ornamental bush in the small park near her home. She loved that park.

She loved so much. And she had lost. But there were still so many wonderful things in her life. Her heart swelled in her chest. She’d had the sweetest tastes and been able to move past the bitter. Today was likely to be a mix of both.

Her walk to Fiorenze’s home was quiet and she took her time. Supplies hung from her shoulder and her hair was pulled out of her face--you never let hair get in the way when you might be fighting, she’d learned that as a very young woman. Practically but still stylishly dressed, Tinnaire stood out in the deeply posh home her friend kept.

It had been a generous offer from Fiorenze. The translocation into the alchemy lab tingled. Good, there was no room for drowsiness here. The exits were long blocked and the room had been prepared.

The Illidari was tall and uninterested in small talk, as he had been in their previous meeting. He was polite but nothing more. There was a sharpness about him today, though; perhaps the anticipation. Hunger. Yes. Hunger and purpose shrouded him like a cloak over his hardened skin.

Today, he would be the death of Tinnaire’s regret.

Tinnaire was focused and professional, but on the walk over she had given herself over to weighing the situation. It was her, or the succubus. The succubus Nimneth was unlikely to ever stop pursuing Tinnaire. Nimneth’s powerful emotions had pushed her to this passion. And the obsession (was it a sick sort of love?) could end no other way than in one of their deaths.

Tinnaire meant to live.

She nodded to the demon hunter and Dajjalen nodded back. They were ready to activate the summoning circle.

February Daily Writing Challenge 2022 Day 1 - Regret

Aerden stood at the back of the room with arms folded protectively across his chest, and face definitely some shade of bright red. At least the majority of the gallery was a little dim, with brighter lights only emphasizing all the portraits hanging on the walls: Portraits of people from all backgrounds and races, depicting what ‘hedonism’ means to them. While many may have assumed the term to have a sexual connotation, the paintings themselves featured a variety of personal pleasures anywhere from food to riches, and hobbies to, of course, sex.

His immediate reaction to seeing his own bare ass up on the wall was regret. This was WAY out of his comfort zone, but he was the one that agreed to it after Vixannya asked him. It could have been a lot more risque like many of the others, but even this was pushing it for him: Completely nude and laying face down atop his surfboard surrounded by tropical waters, fingers trailing through the calm sea with head turned to one side so anyone could easily tell who it was. The painting itself was vibrant and well done, Annya was a master at her craft and could make anyone look amazing. He had nothing to be ashamed of, but self-confidence was something with which he always struggled.

For now, he stood in the back and watched others while his date, Arandori, schmoozed and did her own thing. Uncertain of why he felt the need to witness reactions first hand, maybe he felt the peculiar desire to watch others corroborating what he already knew about himself: He had no business of being up there on her gallery wall. However, that wasn’t the reaction at all that it was receiving out of anyone. People were admiring it, commenting on the dazzling colors, the realistic sparkle of the sea, and, shockingly, on him. On his body, and on how peaceful and handsome he looked. Occasionally they would even recognize him and tell him what a gorgeous piece it was. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if they were referring to the painting itself, or to something else. He just smiled politely and thanked them.

This reaction was not what he anticipated at all and he could feel his face grow even warmer with the unexpected, and occasional lascivious comments. The people close to him often told him he was attractive; he would smile and nod, but thought they were just being nice. After a lifetime of getting bullied for being small and awkward, and looking much, much younger than he actually was, he had a difficult time accepting the fact that he had grown up and into his body.

At one point during his observations, Vixannya had slipped in next to him and whispered that his painting had already sold, but wouldn’t say to whom. That was another thing he had agreed upon, and now his naked ass would be hanging up in some stranger’s home. Weird. Maybe a little creepy? This was probably normal for the upper class and nobility though, right?

Eventually, he wandered away from the room that displayed his portrait with a little grin on his lips. Maybe there was no need for that regret after all.

-[MUSIC]-

'I think I 'm in love with you...'

It had been a happy moment in time, an odd moment, too. A creation of Kou's, the creation that had taken on her own life, it was sort of a life-like Pinocchio story. A doll that was never meant to have feelings of love or pain and yet the falsely beating heart somehow found a way.

He'd been tall, dark, handsome, just as fucked up as she was. He brought her to life, he made her feel love.

He wanted to marry her.

He did marry her.

'I think I need to step back for a while.'

Those were the last words he said and so the Doll waited, ever patient, ever loyal. Days, weeks, months went by and there she remained until the dawning conclusion that the statement he needed 'time' was in fact him saying he was never coming back.

What was meant to be something pure and wonderful... What was meant to be sacred was now tainted and withered. Just like that, she had been left on the shelf like the doll she was, like the simple toy she'd meant to be. Where love should have filled a slowly growing heart shrank into a hint of darkness.

Lost, confused, full of regret.

But what could The Maker have done for his pained creation? Could he have truly hit the reset? Would The Creator even allow that?

Love

Valanthriell’s mind was still struggling to come to grips with the time dilation between Azeroth and The Shadowlands, what was mere weeks in the realm of the living moved like months amongst the dead, and feeling like a flirtation with eternity but the purpose for being there kept her resolute. After months of waiting for word that her Agents had located Valanthriell’s long lost love but instead news of a different kind caused her to take the leap she had been putting off, no longer able to let the fear of losing control keep her from diving in with both feet and joining the ranks of the Venthyr in hopes of coming face to face with the truth.

Working tirelessly, for what felt like years, to prove herself and gain access and finally taking the fateful steps inside the halls of Sinfall. The moment had come as Valanthriell approached a tall dark-haired man from behind, the rage that had filled her moments before swelled into an overload of nervous energy and causing her entire body to tremble as she spoke up. “Avandth? Avandth Shadowfel?”

Turning to face her with that Revendreth condescending air about him until his eyes came to rest on her face, his mouth falling open at the sight of his middle daughter. “It cannot be? The Empress of all, my dearest Valanthriell.” Calling Valanthrell by his pet name for her as his hands reached out to take her’s causing Valanthriell to recoil at the sight, still unsure of how to begin processing what stood right before her. “I know it can be jarring, finding your loved one here when you are clearly not yet a part of this world…” Avandth’s head tilted to the right as he leaned in closer to Valanthriell, meeting her eye level. “Something more troubles you. Speak your mind, Empress.”

By this point she knew better than to ask how long he had been here, he likely would not be able to nail down the years of her life he had missed so she worded her question carefully. “What brought you here?” This would be the telling factor of how long the decoy had lived in her life.

Avandth took a moment, his formerly glowing countenance had grayed, his features had started to elongate as his time in Revendreth had begun to change him. “I am sure you remember the accident when you were young, still a small child when it happened. I was returned home to recover but, as I am told, I succumbed a few days later. Although you were a young girl, I find myself surprised that you do not remember this…You refused to leave my side.” His hands raised to give comfort, pausing to request permission. “May I embrace you, daughter of mine?”

Valanthriell could not move, her body shaking with the realization that he had truly been dead all this time, with a slow nod of her head she collapsed into the arms of her father, experiencing the love of a parent, a feeling that had been absent for most of her life.