The sun was well and truly up by the time Tinnaire dragged herself from her bed. She smiled sleepily despite the throb from two healing gashes across her thigh. She had not bothered to dress and the ties to her thin dressing robe danced cheerfully with every step toward the kitchen.The instant coffee was a comfort, and her two-day leftover Pandaren was a blessing. She took her food and ate on the tiny balcony. It hadn’t seen her for months. The reunion was warm, if silent. All across her apartment, the wards and runes still shimmered at every possible entry, but no longer had as pointed a function. She traced one with a finger, thinking on Andaeros’s meticulous work. She would visit him soon. Her gratitude would be appreciated there. She thought he might be the most likely to truly share her pleasure at this chapter’s end. Nimneth was gone. Tinnaire watched a bird soar over the city walls, calling in a song she echoed silently. If summoning the sayaad to her doom was evil eating its tail, Tinnaire would not ponder long. It had to be done. Dajjalen had been quite effective, Fiorenze was right. The price had been paid and a bonus as well. Tinnaire set her feet on the balcony railing and mused that she thought would have done it for nothing but the satisfaction and satiation he so clearly had craved. Brutal, he had fallen to feast as he had warned her he would. The warning had been warranted.

February Writing Challenge 2022 Day 6 - Comfort / Evil

Turning over in his hands the broken cuffs Xy’kelos had clapped him with, Luminash pondered their nature. They were like nothing he had seen among the othe Brokers, but they certainly felt familiar. The metal, cold and black, their power of control... He shuddered, knowing fully what evil they were touched with, made worse with the marks they had left behind on his skin.

“Jaskian, these came from the Maw.” He tossed the cuffs to the deck of the Broker ship the mages had found themselves in possession of, “I am certain of it.”

Warnings: vomiting, injury

Summary: Attzi wakes up not feeling quite herself.

@daily-writing-challenge -----

“Attzi, hon.” A hand rested on her shoulder as the voice continued, very softly: “Ya gotta wake up. Th’ doctor’s here.”

Everything, briefly, felt warm and fuzzy. Attzi could tell just by the way it rested beneath her that she was in her own bed, under her covers. Her blankets had always been thick and fluffy to help protect against the chill of Everlook winters. She was about to roll over and go back to sleep, despite being vaguely aware that her ma was talking to her, when the second she moved a searing pain rocketed through her head. When she groaned and opened her eyes, the light in the room made the pain worse.

Immediately, her ma’s hand pressed gently over the upper half of her face, blocking the worst of it and making the pain fade a bit. “Keep those eyes closed, baby.”

Her voice was oddly muted, but Attzi gave a small, very careful nod. When her ma’s hand pulled away, she felt at her left ear with her fingers, discovering the cause of the muffled words: her ear was packed and bandaged against the side of her head. She wanted to open her eyes again, because there was a worried little creep in the pit of her stomach that was demanding she get as much information as possible, immediately, about what had happened.

“Hello, Miss Attzi,” came a low voice with a light Darnassian tint to it. “How are you feeling?”

“Uh….” It took her a few moments to find the word she wanted. “Confused. Kinda pretty, pretty confused. What happened t’my ear?”

Her ma spoke again. “Th’ accident, Atz. Th’ lab’s made its own constellation, it blew so high.” Her voice was light, but there was something in the phrasing that made Attzi’s growing nervousness worse.

“Lab? I–” She cut herself off as she remembered: walking through the snow from her house, carrying lunch. Feeling the greasy electric tingle in the air. And then seeing–

“Fyx!” Attzi sat up abruptly, ignoring the way the sudden motion made her feel like gelatin. “Ma, where’s Fyx?” She opened her eyes, also ignoring the way the light was still weaponizing itself against her, and stared at the strange man and her mother both.

“He didn’t make it, hon.” Ma’s voice was cracked, but patient, as she reached for Attzi’s hand.

Fyx was dead? That feeling in the pit of her stomach came surging up full force, and she retched, folding over the side of the bed. The doctor was there with a bucket before she could spoil the rug. While she gagged up bile hard enough to make her bandaged ear ring dully, she was vaguely aware of her mother speaking again.

“She asks this every time she wakes up, doc. It’s been a whole week. We’re usually ones t’ just let things heal on their own, but this ain’t right.”

A week? Attzi felt her stomach go again, leaving her gagging violently over the bucket.

The doctor’s voice remained low and calm. Once Attzi was done with the last round of dry heaving, he began guiding her back onto the bed with gentle hands. “Mrs. Managear, would you be so kind as to get Attzi fresh water for her mouth? I’ll examine her while you’re out, so there is no need to rush.”

“Y-yeah, sure,” her ma said. Attzi closed her eyes and sank back into the bedding, listening hard for the click of her bedroom door. She heard it, but barely.

“Did she say a week, doc?” she asked dully.

“She did, Miss Attzi. Now, I’m going to undo these bandages and give you a once-over. While I do, please tell me everything you can remember that happened before waking up in the room with us just now.”

She did as he asked. While she replayed the memory of bringing lunch back for her and her cousin, he unwrapped her ear and her head and asked the occasional leading question. By the time she got to being blasted into the wall of the building across from the lab, he changed tactics again.

Did she remember the last thing she ate before going to sleep yesterday? No.

Did she remember being brought back to her home after her family found her? No.

Did she remember how many times she had been told about the death of her cousin?

No. No, no. Each question made her slightly more frantic, until she felt on the edge of a panic attack. As soon as she began breathing heavily, the doctor stopped his questioning. “I’m sorry, Miss Attzi. I just wanted to verify that you’d formed no long-term memories since the accident. We don’t need to continue with that any longer.” He paused, and she nodded. “Now, with your permission, may I heal your ear and head? There, ah. May be some permanent damage to your ear, I’m afraid. It has had an entire week to begin healing incorrectly.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say.

A faint green light surrounded her head, and soon the pain and the light sensitivity faded. Attzi breathed a sigh of relief… and then realized that the room still sounded lopsided.

“I can’t hear nothin’ from my left ear, still.”

“I was afraid of that. Ears are very delicate, especially on the insides, and taking an explosion to one often leaves healing iffy at best.”

“Ya heal a lotta us goblins here in Everlook, huh? Plenty a’ practice with explosions, sounds like.” She looked up at him and grinned. Her eyes actually focused on him this time, so she was able to see him blink in surprise, and then smile back.

Night Elves always reminded her of cats in the dark when they blinked. It was something in the eyes. There was a word for the part that made cat eyes reflective in the dark. What… what was it? She stared at the doctor, absently taking a cup of water from her ma as she came back into the room.

“...Miss Attzi.”

“Huh?” She looked at him, then her mother, and then at the water in her hand. Right. She swished her mouth out and then leaned over to spit into the bucket.

“I asked you a question. Will you mind if I come back tomorrow, to check and see how your memory is?”

“You don’t think the healin’ fixed that, either?” Once she realized how that sounded, she hurriedly added, “I didn’t mean it like that. I feel a lot better, I do.”

He chuckled softly. “It never hurts to be thorough. And if you are having memory difficulties, we can discuss options for mitigating them. But for now, I’ll leave you two be.” The doctor rested a hand on her mother’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, before he rose as best he could in the low room and ducked through the door. When it closed behind him, Attzi held out her hand for her mother.

“Ma… did I miss th’ funeral?”

Her mother raised a hand to her eyes and burst into tears, which, Attzi realized, was answer enough. She realized how many times she must have asked that question already, and felt utterly evil.

****

It took several months to sort out just what was going on with her memory. The doctor healed her multiple times before progress stalled, leaving her damaged… but functional, at least. Big events seemed to stick in her mind better; when she accepted a job in Booty Bay, she didn’t have any problems forgetting that, for example.

But the little things? New people’s names, what food she bought at the market, where she got the clothes in her closet. All of that had a high chance of just poofing away into the ether rather than finding a place to rest in her brain. She took to writing down the little details in a notebook (in a shorthand she’d created for her and Fyx’s experiments, which only the two of them could read) and starting her morning by flipping through it and reading over the past few days, gently herding new facts back into her head over a cup of coffee.

If she read something enough, it would eventually stick. New people didn’t remain strangers forever. She was still able to learn and improve when it came to fixing watches and other mechanical devices. It was all just… slower.

There was one side-effect of this that Attzi was completely unaware of, though her family noticed: she became a lot more social and cheerful. They assumed it was mild brain damage, which wasn’t incorrect. Specifically, though, it was simple bias: Attzi was more likely to write down good things and interesting things about the people she met than she was things she didn’t like. Some negativity certainly made it into her notebooks (hence the shorthand), but her bias to all things good meant that she often didn’t remember bad experiences.

Day 6 (Late) - Comfort - @daily-writing-challenge

The past couple of days had been terrible. Sure, the week started off more than well after Megahes made his decision to talk to Nat about them actually having kids of their own. But, that one bright and semi-fearful decision put the Gob on a downward descent into nightmares and episodic explosions during his sleep that left him wondering if he was even safe enough to be with Nat, let alone the other kids or have one of their own. He needed to destress and to get away for a while and clearly the Bay and their home wasn’t doing it for him. So, there was one place that he knew so few others knew about that he’d be fine to go on a retreat to without having to worry.

Comfort / Evil ( @daily-writing-challenge @zoronadotatanado​ )

World: Final Fantasy

Theme: The King of Hyrule’s Wish - Legend of Zelda BOTW OST

“Come on, Zoronado!” Lady Leleni called out in a huff, getting increasingly agitated by how he seemed to be dragging his feet. The Iron Feast was at last within reach after only a few bells of walking, and she fully intended on exploring those waterlogged ruins to her heart’s content. But her loyal retainer didn’t seem to be all that enthusiastic about the adventure this time; in fact, ever since they woke up early for breakfast, he’s been unusually quiet and reserved. Her Elegance could feel her throat beginning to dry out from calling his name so much that she was tempted to leave him behind, but she was no fool. There were all manner of horrible beasts out here in the Dravanian Forelands that would find her a tasty midday snack, particularly the dragons roaming about overhead. She turned one last time to see him stagger to the side a bit before collaping onto his knee. “Zoronado?!” She squeaked, dropping her walking stick to run back to him.

“I-I’m fine, milady…” He did his best to assure her, but his body language told a different story. He was pale and sweating, despite it being remarkably cool and crisp today, and he was failing to conceal his labored breathing. “I’ll catch up… please… don’t let me waste any more of your time…”

“You are definitely not fine.” She eyed him up and down before she began her impromptu inspection. There was no smell of blood that she could pick up, but when she touched his backpack, he let out a pained grunt through his clenched teeth. “You’re hurt! Your back, perchance?” The night prior they were ambushed by a giant coeurl creature that must have been stalking them since they entered the area; but Zoronado assured her that the scratch across his back didn’t hurt. She took him by the hand and guided him maybe a hundred or so paces closer to the ruins of the Iron Feast, where they found shelter from the shining sun and crystal clear running water. “Take off your armor.” She commanded, reaching into her own backpack to retrieve her planisphere.

“M-milday, I-”

“Now.” 

Zoronado wasn’t neither in the position nor condition to argue. Slowly he pulled his hood back and unbuttoned his coat, before hesitantly lifting the strap of his backpack off his chest. “... ooouuugh…” He closed his eyes tightly and grit his teeth, doing his best to hide just how painful it was. Leleni waited for him to set his backpack down, then she gently placed her hands on his shoulders to help pull his coat off. Immediately she found the source of his distress-- a tiny black piece of that beast's claw had broken off under his skin, leaving his shoulder bright red and swollen from an infection. Her severely limited grasp of astrological magicka would likely take all evening to heal him, forcing their schedule back another day, but that was now of little concern to Her Elegance.

Long thick scars zigzagged across his back, as high as his shoulders to as low as his belt. These weren't the doings of battling monsters during their adventures or brigands back on their home island of Kol’din, but the telltale marks of lashings from leather whips.

"Sir… Zoronado…" She whispered, hesitantly raising her hand to trace a few scars with a finger; some of these wounds could only be a few weeks old-- right around the time her father pulled him aside the morning before she and her retainer fled the island to reach Eorzea. "Did my father do this…?"

There was an uncomfortably long pause before he slowly nodded. "Yes… milady… one lashing for every day I was out here exploring Eorzea on your behalf. And a dozen more for humiliating the Nar Family when I walked you down the aisle at your wedding. And about twenty more since the first week of my service… every time you talked back to your father, or ignored his command, I would be punished in your stead."

Tears began to glisten at the base of her bright emerald eyes as she stared at him. “You were only following my orders…! This punishment is reserved for the lowest caste… those who disobey their superiors…! Why did he do this to you?! Why didn’t-?!” Her words snagged in her throat as he turned to look at her, with cold sweat glistening on his pale face. “Why didn’t you tell me this was happening…?!”

“I was… I was afraid you would have relieved me of my duty. Set me aside for early retirement, or simply kick me out of your Bulwark.” Zoronado couldn’t look her in the eyes as he confessed. “If I told you… there was a good chance you would have never sent me out to chase your dreams on your behalf.”

“You endured all of this pain… for me? Why?”

“I swore an oath to protect you, milady. More than that… I live to serve. It is my duty to carry your burdens, chase away your fears, and help you follow your dreams.” Zoronado admitted, rubbing at his forearm.

Crushing guilt dropped down onto her like a voidsent demon had perched on her shoulders. He was right about one thing– if she knew he was her whipping boy for the short few moons he’s been in her service, she would have definitely restrained her adventurous nature; and the fact that she’s been so oblivious to his physical anguish burned a hole in her heart big enough for him to walk through. “What about your dreams…?” She forced the words out from her throat. “What do you want, Sir Zoronado?”

Then his eyes met hers in an uncomfortable and awkward silence. His lips parted and he drew a ragged breath to speak, but the words never came. Not that they needed to… she saw it flaring up behind his eyes, bringing color to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. The look he gave her was nothing she’s ever seen before– not from her dutiful father, not from her late mother, not even from her husband the day he pulled her veil back to gaze upon her maiden face. It was shame, a great and terrible agony twisting and writhing behind his eyes. More than that, however, it was a passionate desire. Her faithful and loyal retainer, he who swore a sacred oath of abstinence and chastity had inadvertently broken any willpower and discipline remaining that stood between him and breaking these oaths. “F-forgive me… milady…” Was all he could manage to squeak out, his gaze dropping to her boots. If he ever expressed these desires to anyone with an ounce of authority or credibility to Kol’din, to her father, he would be begging for a proper hanging by the time they were done with him. Truly Zoronado has suffered enough in that regard. More than enough.

“Turn around…” She ordered, her breath hitching in her dry mouth. He slowly did as he was bid, revealing the hideous scars scrawled across his back once more. She unfolded her planisphere again and whispered the incantations, causing her other hand to softly glow with her magick. She pressed her palm against his wound and held it there, filtering and cleaning out his injury in silence. Then, as if out of instinct, she lowered her forehead onto his shoulder. Zoronado said nothing as he felt her hands slide around his waist to hug him from behind, feeling her body begin to shudder and tremble from her sniffling. Slowly he reached up to touch her hand, with his heart pounding hard against his aching chest.

Day 6: Comfort

Warnings: Scars

@daily-writing-challenge

It had been a good while since their last huge battle. Wivien couldn't really tell how long since she had stopped keeping track of the days since they felled the monster that had been terrorizing a beach off of High Mountain. Not only those people, but the ones fighting against it. She flexed her hand and dug her claws into the palm of her hand before returning it to its relaxed posed before. It felt good to be back in her own body. Being the one who controls it instead of having your friends lock up the demon that had taken completely over. Her gaze went to her wrist as she saw the huge groves of flesh that had been carved out as her body tried to escape its incasement. Now it just was lighter patches of skin that were taking there time to fully heal. Another thing to cover up.

Going back to her normal was a bit harder than she had expected. Then again, it never was an easy task. Returning to a body that had been lacking her normal energy she gained from various hunts had almost sent her into a frenzy when she got back into the driver's seat of her mind. She found her fix and supply of souls shortly after with some help from her brother in arms, Kardanos.

He was the leader of their cause that, after this long and devastating fight, would dissolve away. He is a tall Draenei that underwent the trials to become a Lightforged when he had gained access to it. If you told Wivien she would be best friends with someone who when touched would cause her unbearable pain, she would have scoffed at it. But now...

He is a person of comfort to her. He's loud, boisterous and acts like he is a bit stupid but when he gets serious everyone actually listens to him. Wivien had only grown closer to him over the past....how many years now? Six...Six years. In that amount of time that has felt like eons has encouraged her to be devoted to him. He points, she cuts. He says and she does. It is a welcomed spot of command for her. She would follow him until the ends of the earth and hopes he would do the same for her. Even if he may not be able to really read her as he does others, he always asks and finds out the problem before it becomes one. As her thoughts begin to move from him, she senses that someone is coming into the empty Inn. She knew it was him by the way his hoofs hit the ground and the pattern of thumps they always made on the creaking wood.

"Vell hello Sister! Eet is good to see you! How are you feelink? Good?" Wivien tilts her head back to look up to the Draenei. His horns were curled back and more detailed than they were before his own transformation. Light white hair hanged down around the tops of his shoulders alongside a few tendrils with golden cuffs placed upon them at seemingly random. Golden eyes look down at her with a grin just as bright which she couldn't help but show her own.

"Good to see you, Brother. I am...feeling much better than I was. Got my self a well needed haircut. How are you holding up?"

He had turned around as she spoke and had begun looking through all the different bottles on the wall and underneath the bar. A loud bark of a laugh comes from him. "HA! Yes I vas vonderink vat you were goink to do viz zat. I swore you vere goink to trip every time you took a step!" A few boisterous laughs seem to come from his belly and he let's out a sigh afterwards. "I am quite alright! Hopink to get back out there...after some drinks of course." A bottle was placed in front of Wivien and one was left in Kardanos's hand. "Looks like ze Bourbon hasn't been touched in avhile so more for you~!"

Sharp white teeth shined in the firelight from Wivien as she made quick work of the cork and took a few gulps from her bottle, her Brother following suit. The two of them caught up in the little time they had been away from each other and the conversation dwindled down to just taking drinks and staring into the fire place. Kardanos stood up and placed his bottle back to its place on the shelf and grinned towards her.

"....Wanna spar?"

With a slam of her cork being placed back into her bottle she seems to jump up from her seat.

"Is that even a question, Kard? Fuck yeah. Let's see how many teeth I get from you this time."

“You’re…distracted.”

R’zevi’s eyes narrowed as he tightened his guard, dipping under his opponent's thrown punch and throwing a counter jab of his own - shifting back into a light bounce after the punch landed.

“I’m not the one losing this fight - what makes you think I’m the one distracted.”

His opponent chuckled - an Hyur about his age. “The way you’re punching - feels like it’d go through walls, but you’re not controlled. It’s erratic, angry…it’s how you end up leaving one too many openings.”

He barely saw the movement - flipping back out of the way just in time and narrowly missing the uppercut that’d been thrown in his direction. There was a sharp exhale as his head snapped up - eyes searching for the man and finding him just in time to block the next punch, throwing one of his own in retaliation.

Or…he would have had the other man not caught the punch, bringing the bout to an abrupt end.

“You know damn well training distracted is worthless.”

R’zevi sighed, pulling his hand back and running it through his recently cut hair. He’d delayed the decision for months - it brought a sense of finality to a situation that he’d meditated and tried to process for…far too long. But it was still a very small thing…and there were other changes to be made.

“...I do know that - but I also know there’s a certain comfort in being able to throw punches and not think about…things.”

“‘Things’?”

“Yes, ‘things’. I grew…complacent. I was comfortable with the way my life was, the way things were going. I stagnated…there is no growth in one’s comfort zone. And change…while uncomfortable, is a necessary evil.”

“...and you came all the way out here to figure that out.”

R’zevi blinked slowly before chuckling and shaking his head. “No - I came up here to spar and beat the shit out of someone. I figured all that out days ago. Speaking of the fighting - now that that’s all cleared up, shall we get back to it, I have rust to shake off.”

“Ha- fine, but you get all distracted again and I’m throwing a knockout punch.”

“You can throw one - doesn’t mean you’re going to land it.”

It was comfortable - falling back into a training routine. He’d stay a week, maybe two, and then return to the company…to his apartment and continue to move forward.

There was nothing to be gained by looking back and wondering ‘what if’.