#febdwc2022

DAILY WRITING CHALLENGE 2022 IS HERE!

Choose one or both words and write a story, drabble, poem, or anything else once a day, every day, for a week!

Tag @daily-writing-challenge so we can reblog your stories.

Write the number day/challenge somewhere on your story.

LIST CONTENT WARNINGS VISIBLY ABOVE STORY!

Tags that will be used: #febdwc2022,  #febdayX2022 (X=whatever number day you’re writing for), #yourtumblrurl

There will be no optional challenges for the weekly DWC’s, but please feel free to make up some of your own challenges!

The next writing challenge will be in MAY and last for a week!

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We look forward to reading some amazing writing!

((Written word list below the cut))

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

Day 1:  Love

Welp! I only got one done, but I’ll chip away at the other prompts until may happens. I’m happy to have this out before the week ends haha.

Tonight, alone and quiet, her body shifted with wishes, missing all of them, though her mind never quite caught up and interpreted the unshaped nostalgia that flooded her spirit.

She was restless, but she didn’t know it was for Pollux’s hand on the small of her back as she leaned on him, tucked against his left side. She couldn’t find words to express that she missed Pyraelia’s warm, dry hand in her own as they wandered through a meadow. There was no conscious understanding of the ache for the brush of Iloam’s beard in a sweetly pecked greeting on her cheek. She didn’t realize she wanted Ahualti’s hands on her elbows, helping on the water, the touch so strong and reassuring in its guidance.

Her chest tightened in want of Ashraen’s tight embrace; it always lifted her off her feet.

The soft thunk of Helal’s head against hers as they talked and sat next to each other had been missing too long. Her body remembered how it felt every time Bellani had hip bumped her down the Silvermoon streets as they cut classes.

February Daily Writing Challenge 2022 Day 3 - Shine

Warnings: Mentions of drugs/overdosing/death (This references his performance at Glitter is in the Air found --> HERE!)

Two weeks ago

It was never easy for Ryland to speak about his past. His hardships weren’t all that different from anyone else’s on Azeroth; everyone had their own journeys filled with loss, guilt, grief, and uncertainty. He would rather laugh and enjoy the time he had left with his friends and found family; life was too fleeting in this world and he wasn’t without enemies. The future was never promised.

But everyone needed their own personal outlet, it wasn’t healthy to bottle up all the emotions all the time. The last time Ryland attempted to do that was after the unsolved and unexpected murder of his new fiancée, Sela. He found himself overdosing on dusts and spent a few terrible days in a run-down clinic; it was a less than ideal solution and he learned his lesson. It didn’t cure the grief, in fact, it only made it worse.

It was dance that eventually brought him out of the hole he had dug for himself. The shine of a bright spotlight had become a safe space to Ryland. It was there he was able to express a variety of emotions without ever having to say a word. And it helped. Whether it was showcasing his skills alone on the stage, go-go dancing on a platform in a loud nightclub, or even blending in with a crowd of sweaty bodies writhing to the beat, this was home to Ryland. It was just a fun hobby when he was younger, but now he realized this was what he was meant to do.

Ryland rolled onto his back and stared up at the aerial hoop hanging above. After joining the Tarts he had spent the vast majority of his free time practicing and polishing his moves. Today, he was working on….falling off the hoop and slamming onto the mat-covered ground. It was an important part of the storytelling in his routine, even if not everyone would understand the reason behind it. He had to make it look unexpected and painful; ripped away from his grasp with brute force.

Because that is exactly how it felt when it happened. 

It was the story of his relationship with Sela: About how everything was beautiful and almost perfect, and how they were always there to support one another. Then suddenly she was ripped away from him without warning, leaving him off balance and clumsy, barely able to stand. It was a difficult routine, both physically and mentally, but it was something he felt he needed to do. Especially since it was during this time of year that she died. It was just as much for him as it was for her, even though he was still left with many unanswered questions.

Once upon a time Red offered the attempt to reach out to Sela in the afterlife. Knowing Red, it wasn’t an offer made lightly or given to many; he kept the knowledge about possessing such skills very close to his chest. It was perfectly feasible that she could be found and able to respond given the circumstances of her death. There was a lot of unfinished business there, most importantly who did it to her and why. What if he didn’t like the answers? It may not provide the closure he needed, but may open the door for revenge. Was it worth it though? Maybe just to talk to her one last time and say goodbye. The idea had been tabled for years and the thought only brought about anxiety. Perhaps one day.

Reluctantly forcing himself upright, he scrubbed both hands down his face and rubbed at the side of his thigh. The fall felt better that time, but would still leave a bruise. Bruises were something he was unlikely able to escape in this particular instance, such was the life of a dancer. Lowering the hoop, he lifted himself up into a seated position. Time to start again.

@daily-writing-challenge Warnings: Mention of harassment, violence

Dicenne and Kareenia Amberlight had been through a lot in their lives: Death, loss, injury, attacks, invasions, and much more. Kara was there for him after the death of his wife and son, Dice was there for her after her kidnapping, and they were there for each other after losing their parents. The remainder of the Amberlights had perished in the scourge invasion of Quel’thalas, so for a while now it had just been the two of them.

Dice had always been fiercely protective of his younger sister; while she had some fighting and magical prowess, she had always been a pacifist. People often saw that as a weakness and took advantage of it, but Dicenne was never one to sit on the sidelines when it came to inexcusable behavior. 

So when Kara returned to their home in Ratchet shaking and in tears, he immediately went into protective big brother mode. He made her tea and sat her in her favorite cushy chair with a fuzzy blanket and some of her stuffed animals before getting the story from her. One of the drunk, out-of-towners at the tavern had made a few salacious comments towards her and tried to grab her. Kara was already extremely wary of strange men given what had happened to her in the past, but no one should be treating anyone that way and lessons needed to be learned.

He was looking for a young, human male with blond hair, wearing a slightly stained green shirt and suspenders; probably from one of the ships docked for the night. Shouldn’t be too difficult to find, humans were still a bit of a rarity here even though Ratchet was a neutral port town. 

Dicenne found him leaning against the outside of the tavern, drinking from a bottle tucked into a brown paper bag. Typical. The bruisers were good at running most of the riffraff back to their ships, but it was difficult to witness everything on a busy night like tonight. Thankfully, they all knew Dice well enough to leave him alone when he was on a mission. He was, essentially, an honorary bruiser, and would always look out for the people of the town.

“You think it’s fun to harass women?” Dice stepped right up into the young human's space, staring him down. Being 6’8”  and in shape had some major advantages, he often towered over many and was very, very good at appearing and being intimidating.

“What? Get the fuck out of here man, I didn’t do shit.” The human scoffed and took another swig from his bottle. Drunk people were terrible liars.

“You and I both know that’s not-” Before Dicenne could even finish his statement, the human took a wide swing with his bottle directly towards the elf’s face. Bad idea. Dicenne had spent a good majority of his life on the front lines in the military, and just because he was no longer a part of that didn’t mean he stopped practicing and sparring. It was important to keep those skills fresh given the world they lived in; never knew when one would need to arm and defend themselves. Dicenne easily caught his forearm and forced the human to smash himself in the head with the bottle. It cracked within the bag before dropping to the ground. The human looked surprised and dazed for a moment, before trying to pull his arm free to no avail. 

“What the…?! Get off me you crazy asshole, GUARDS, HELP!” The closest bruiser began whistling a jaunty tune and simply walked away; he would happily allow this. The human attempted to throw a punch with his other fist, but that too was caught. He kicked his feet and knees outwards, although at this point he was too drunk to really do any harm, and any blows that landed didn’t seem to phase the much larger man.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not going to kill you.” Even if it was really tempting. “Although if you keep struggling I might.”

The human exhaled an indignant growl, “The fuck do you want?”

Dicenne gathered both of the man’s wrists together in one hand, pressing them against the wall over his head. He didn’t respond, instead he just reached into the cuff of his boot with his free hand, withdrew a dagger, and promptly stabbed it through the right palm of the human, pinning it against the wall. He let out a blood-curdling scream as he stared in horror at the dagger protruding from his hand. “The next time you even think about grabbing anyone without their consent, maybe you’ll see that scar there and remember what might happen. The next person might not be so nice.”

Dicenne had his sister to get back to, so he turned on heel and headed back towards his home atop the hill, leaving behind the blubbering human with the dagger still pinning his hand to the wall. The man could figure out how to free himself on his own, the bruisers would be of no help. As far as they were concerned he wouldn’t be bothering anyone else tonight. Or hopefully ever.

@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.”