She wasn’t going anywhere in particular, and that bothered some sorts of people. But not her. Today was not a day for hard ambitions, though she was productive in her way. Khaeris had found herself floating through camp talking and laughing with a variety of people, after the solitude of the day before.

She had woven herself a flower crown and had danced with the children of the Dragonscale Expedition earlier. The blacksmith had made bells on tiny chains for her feet and she walked barefoot through the little town of tents. Card games and even a game of chess in the early afternoon had capped out the hottest part of the day,  though the breezes that came through the ravines were playful.

She’d helped brew healing potions and made poultices. She’d cooked dinner with the cooks and eaten over stories exchanged.

Her eyes roamed through the constellations, head sticking out of her tent and pillowed by her hands. She’d left her daily messages to Pollux (and a picture of her dancing taken on her comm by a drakonid child that afternoon) and then gone to empty her mind; but her thoughts wandered rather than settled.

Ambition had never been her driving force. Survival and Curiosity, those were the things that drove her. But Pyraelia was ambitious, always working and researching. Pollux was ambitious-adjacent? He seemed to like where he was in rank, but he’d climbed fairly high and sacrificed much to get there. Ahuatli was at the pinnacle of her cultural artistic community and Khaeris knew it had been a hard won and deserved prize. Helal was ambition embodied at times, at least when he wasn’t lounging like a sated cat.

Did it bother anyone that she was so rudderless? Did she care of it did? What was she missing? What would she even want so much that she’d be relentless?  Nothing seemed that compelling to her. Work was fun but she wasn’t obsessive. Dancing was natural and as necessary as breath--but she didn’t need prizes or accolades to find joy in it.

No, her ambition was to see as much as she could, experience as much as she could. She smiled to herself, watching the larger moon march across the sky. It was enough.

Word Count: 921

Summary: Kappi has taken on a very ambitious project in hopes of giving @attzi-gearburst a special Winter's Veil Gift.

Warnings: None!

@daily-writing-challenge 

His body was tense, hunched over the workbench as he focused in. When he had the cabin built he made sure to include multiple areas for him or Attzi to work just for occasions like this one. Reaching up he flips lenses in his goggles, slipping the magnifying one into place, and focuses in again on the task at hand. In front of him lay an array of parts, some broken, most not and once he actually gets them all together it will be a functioning watch. Or so he hoped. Attzi had been teaching him all about clocks and watches, building them and repairing them. He had taken to it well enough, but just as with any new skill it had not been without its stumbles. But honestly, he had an amazing teacher with Attzi, she was extremely patient with him and he truly enjoyed learning from her. It made it that much more enjoyable. In fact, that is exactly why he came up with the idea with this ambitious project in the first place.

February 23 - Day 5 Ambition/Relentless

Going with this storyline: Prologue -> Here Fio Day 1 -> Here Xylaes Day 1 -> Here Pyraelia Day 2 -> Here Taric Day 3 -> Here Lynesse Day 3 -> Here Sheizara Day 4 -> Here Red Day 5 -> Here

They had trapped Theirastra in her last soulstone. Her final “just in case”, the back up plan, a piece that was meant to be a saving grace.

Fiorenze so badly wanted to smash it and destroy what was left of the Highborne soul that had betrayed her, but that would also be it. No more second chances. That small piece of her soul that she had fragmented off over half a decade ago would rejoin the whole, and she would be truly mortal. 

The price of her ambition had been to lose everything. It stung. 

She wanted to vomit, and not because of the vertigo of being back in a body after days trapped outside it. 

It was hard to recount the passing of the last many hours; Pyraelia had, at some point, warned her about a spell she was going to cast. Xylaes had been a constant companion near the mirror while she’d been trapped, but gone as soon as it became clear that she was safe again. The two contractors hadn't stuck around long either, enough to make sure she was back to rights and then to get paid.

Doctor Gloamingdawn had done a couple of checks and cleaned a deep scratch on her forearm before relaying something quietly to Keranna before leaving herself. Keranna had set the soulstone, pried out of the pretty ring setting it had been housed in, on the side table next to the bed with a hammer and exited the room after tersely giving her the instruction to destroy it. 

Everyone had gone, and she was alone. 

The pervasive, painful throbbing in her body was relentless as she sat up and took the hammer in hand. The brain fog was hard to muddle through and caused distraction — what was she doing again? Why was she here? Purpose slipped through motive like sand between her fingers until her eyes caught the soulstone glimmering on the nightstand again. 

She would be alone until it was destroyed. 

That was the price — or the incentive. 

Her stomach heaved, empty. This body hadn’t eaten in days, but she wasn’t hungry. Anxiety clawed at her. She didn’t want to be alone. 

A deep, uncontrolled sob wracked her frame as she lifted the hammer up, and the tears rolled freely as she brought it down and shattered the cursed thing. Green glass turned to powder with a quiet, whispered shriek.

Theirastra was destroyed, but even as the fragment of her own missing soul returned she realized that she certainly didn’t feel whole.

Word Count: 800 Summary: Healed and (mostly) recovered from the shipwreck he survived during Cata, Iranji sets his sights on a new ship. Warnings: implied death @daily-writing-challenge 

Iranji was sitting on the top boardwalk of Booty Bay, legs draped over the edge, arms laced through the fencing, with a bottle of whiskey at his hip. He was staring forlornly down over the bay, much as he had been since he was put ashore by the crew that had found him floating in the wreckage of his old ship. The port had seen better days, but it was still functional. He’d seen better days, too, but now that he was (mostly) used to his new eye and (definitely) out of money, it was time to find new work.

He’d heard about what had happened to his hometown, which was a large part of why he hadn’t been seen without a bottle of whiskey at hand in weeks. He knew he should make his way there, and look for survivors, but… he also knew what he had heard about what he would find. And he didn’t want his final memories of his family’s home to be of whatever state it was in now, feet below the water.

There was nothing there for him now, so it was time to return his focus to the sea. 

He had been sitting and watching ships come and go all day, waiting for one that spoke to him. For the past three days, none had, and the sun would be setting in an hour, which meant that no more would be coming in soon. He had half a mind to give up and resume drinking in the tavern, but he wanted to at least be able to say that he spent all day looking.

Just then, a ship came into view around the cape. His eyes went wide, and he stared at her as she was backlit by the fading sun.

She’s the one, he realized immediately; when seen through his odd eye, she nearly glowed. He staggered to his feet, knocking the whiskey bottle over the edge and into the water in the process, and immediately began making his way to the docks. 

Much as he had when he left Zandalar as a child, Iranji inquired at the harbormaster’s office, and quickly found out that the ship was called the Glittering Prize. She had been thrown off-course by the storms, apparently, and had come in to resupply before getting back on her trade route.

Iranji found the captain at the tavern by early evening, and ignored the hush that came over the table when he moved to speak with him.

“Hey,” he said in common. “Looking for work. Buy you a drink?”

The human man looked up at him, expression bemused. “I’ll not say no. You been on the water before?”

Iranji folded into a chair and beckoned a server over, paying for the man’s requested drink immediately, while praying that this worked, because he now only had enough money for one more night and one more meal. “Been sailing fifteen years.”

“Impressive. I hate to admit we’ve got space. Most of us made it out of the storms, but….”

“Not everyone,” Iranji said grimly. “Yeah.” The other people at the table went quiet and stared into their drinks.

The captain gave him a canny nod. “Looking for an ordinary seaman, but we’re largely an Alliance-race crew.”

“Not a problem.” He didn’t explain about his human wife, or his twin girls. The nerve was still too raw.

“Normally I’d be wary, but I think that lack of accent will be a perk, honestly.” The captain took a drink from his tankard when it arrived. “Fifteen years though… unless you’re bad at your job, ordinary seaman might not be the most glamorous position.”

“S’fine. Can work back up.”

“I’m just suggesting, there are other captains here looking to fill out their crew. You might get better pay.”

He shook his head, remembering how strange and perfect the Prize had looked coming in. Someone, or something, was watching over her, and he wanted to do the same. “Your ship’s worth taking a pay cut.”

The captain grinned. “Ha! Man after my own heart. She’s really something special.” Another drink, and then he added, “What’s your name?”

“Iranji.”

“Well, Iranji, thanks for taking care of my staffing issues. Report at dawn, and the first mate will get you settled.”

He held out his hand for the other man to take. “Thank you, Captain…?”

“Ashbury.”

After the defeat of the Jailer, before Tournament of Ages: Shadowlands

Late one evening at Jiroki Glaivefall's estate, where after some time and discussion she allowed Jason Helsong to move in with him. The Kaldorei woman and Human man afflicted with the Worgen curse started sharing more of their lives, even performing together in a few shows. Jason spending this night in the large barn that housed some hippogryphs. Working on an act they planned on doing for the Tournament of Ages, easily being one of the biggest shows they've performed in to date.

I have to get this right, Jason thought to himself as he looked up at the silks hanging from the rafters, he had been out practicing since him and Jiro had put the kids to bed. Bits of straw hung to his hair as he started to wrap the cloth around his arms again, lifting himself up. He started climbing further up the silks, reaching out to where Jiro would be as they would begin their spin, his anchor foot slipping and starting to fall, spinning out of the silks and landing on his back on the straw below.

"Shit.." he let out frustratedly as he stared up at beams and the loft above him, sitting up a bit slower this time. Maybe it was falling again or the hour getting later that made him groan, behind him though, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat.

"Darling it's late, come to bed and we'll practice tomorrow." Jiroki stood, the tall lavender skinned elf wearing her night robe as she stood at the barn door. Jason sighed as he started to pull himself up again, hanging on to the silks as he does.

"I need to get the hang of this, it's the biggest event we've been in-" Jason's arms wrapping in the silks again, "I don't want to make you look bad." Jiroki narrowed her eyes a bit at the man.

"I am not concerned about you making me look bad, you haven't before and you won't when the day comes." Jiroki moved from the door and crossed the floor to him, reaching a hand out to pick some straw from his hair. Jason looked into Jiroki's eyes getting little butterflies as he often did looking at her.

"I..just worry love, what if I mess up?" Jason letting go of the silks for the moment, Jiro shrugged.

"Then you mess up darling, no one will know and we go on. I will still love you regardless~." leaning over, brushing his hair from his forehead and kissing it gently. Jason's cheeks turned red for a moment, kissing against Jiroki's cheek.

"You sure it won't change your mind?" he smirked a bit, Jiroki rolling her dark eyes.

"I won't as long as you come with me now." she giggled softly and reached for his hand, "You need a bath~". Jason smiled sweetly at her and took her hand.

"You have a way of offering things hard to resist." he started to move with her, "Ok...but we practice twice tomorrow!...and more baths~" he teased as they went to put out the lights and close up the barn.

@bread-elf

“What do you mean she’s not here?”

Banagan looked at the priestess who stood in front of him, her arms crossed and a rather sour look on her face.

“Just that, young man. Sister Korissa is not here.”

“Well then where is she?”

“I am certain that I do not know. And even if I did, I don’t know what business it is of yours.”

Often her ambition side was seen as chaotic or simply insane.  Just a few months ago she had jumped a ship and traveled to the dragon isles.  The word of drake riders whispered across the voyage.  

Once land and feet met Ziorea had left the crew that brought her over with a crazy idea. 

A drake to call her friend.  It was mistrust at first sight.  She was quick to adore him and try on names.  The lady was torn between Geoffry and Apep.  Since the drake would not tell her what to call him she had to let him pick between her own choices. The name Geoffry almost caused her to lose a limb from a temperous bite.  His new nickname Apep accepted by both. 

While dragons shifted, drycthry mingled among the other races,  Apep stayed forever in his drake form.  He spoke in the way of body language and quick snaps of his teeth or tail.  His color not quite bronze, more of an off-color mustard.   The size of the beast, big enough to hold her and her enchanted bags.  The young drake was not known for his strength. 

His speed?  Blinding.  Ziorea had to barter her soul away with a goblin to make bright pink goggles to wear while riding Apep. 

The pair were often seen jetting through the skies.   Often Ziorea’s cries were a mixture of pleads for him to listen to giggles as he barreled rolled out of play.   Her true secret ambition of becoming his rider was locked away. 

@daily-writing-challenge​

Desperate roars of the twin elementals combat filled the ears of the occupants of the sand carriage as it screamed across the flat cracked earth of the planet formally known as Adeim's Ale.  These days most called the barren world Teetotaler.  But for what it lacked in water, it certainly made up for in mineral deposits to match a great place to hide out.  Unfortunately it was one of those times where neither side had wanted to find the other and now all parties were quite perturbed.

"You need to go faster, Xaya!"  Yelled the youngest Candell sibling from the rear of the flatbed carriage, her sword tied tight across her back as she did her best to adjust the cumbersome starwheel musket in her grip.

Xaya bit her tongue as hard she dared as the carriage bounced over a few rocks and debris in their path, as her fists opened the lead plate in the engine more as the elementals it separated continued to try and destroy one another.  It was almost poetic for the sisters, one fire and one water.  Unfortunately for their 'grandfather' he had to be the plate between them.

"Watch it at three!"  Eld's voice boomed out through the shriek of the caged primal beings clawed at one another below.  Xaya tilted the steering handles that controlled the carrier to the left as the dust and earth exploded where they had just been before.