#ilyea

Previous installment here/ Musical Inspiration: here

It was hard to breath at first. The hiss of air a  mish mash against his broken ribs as Aurora forced the movement into his lungs. It felt bitter hot and acidic with a soft wash of needles down his throat. His black fox tailed soaked with sweat clinging to his lips against the dust and dried earth. The elven rogue would get a handle of where he was...if he could see anything. Thankfully the web of Katanja’s held despite wherever he was. It would provide a guide back to them.

The darkness and swell of the empty space just as dark as the dismal light within his vision.

At least Ilyea was safe though…” Aurora whispered coarsely to himself and felt his voice echo and bounce off. Though the mage herself didn’t know it, he knew that Katanja could only save one of them with the spirit’s corroding strength with her webs. Of course that Katanja would chose her…he would want her too. He was worried but he knew dimly that Ilyea would find a way to bring him back.

They promised after all.

Hey folks:  Wra Radio is holding a new episode coming up on 8/12/18 at 6:30 pm server. 

We will be discussing our reactions to the War of Thorns, a few snippets of theory crafting and various reactions of the RP Community and a few ideas for those lost in the way at large.  Our Special Guest this week is @mercutiomalache who has been going out of their way with @intoxication-wra holding a bunch of cross faction events with our hosts this evening Aurora and Ilyea ( @iamauroracole and @thebuildingcacphony)  Feel free to listen at our link here: http://mixlr.com/wra-radio/

Hope to see you there.  @wrahordeevents @wraconnect 

Roleplay Stream - Locks of N'Zoth with Ilyea

The much-asked-for roleplay stream has FINALLY HAPPENED! Join me, Aranya of Wyrmrest Accord, and my friend, Ilyea, @thebuildingcacophony as we take another step into an overarching plot between us and our friends regarding a naga prophecy that - if true - could shatter the locks on the prison of the Old God of the Depths, N'Zoth!

Master post for information on the Locks of N'Zoth plot and how to get involved: https://tmblr.co/ZFckyk2MPLsKO

If you enjoy my streaming and videos, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi! http://ko-fi.com/aranyaphoenix

IC location for this stream was the White Strider at @sunspireport.

Mentions on this stream were given to @kurel-andiel @roewyn @scions-of-antiquity @eclipsesyndicatewra @curiouscodex @wolf-queen @wolvesof-winter @auroranar @lledwynlomeriel @kintsukuroi-creations @halenvar. Part 5 is the 9-minute one you wanna see if you’re @shaded-hawke or @arkhos-ravenscar.

Many thanks to @themadsphinx and Darthyoda for hanging out with us in the chat!

I remember when I first started my travels through Azeroth when we were still wet in our ventures into the what was Draenor, how much the constant war shaped my expectations.

It made me feel something, allowed me to focus on something rather then my stupid self, my stupid lack of education, my stupid pathetic life.

Each killing blow against alliance, legion, Kael’thas loyalists was made possible because with it I could survive….and my heart beat faster.

I wonder when Sylvanis gave the order to burn the tree, did it cause her heart to race?

Continued from here

Inspired Music It was always the gentle shake of the shadows that did it. The incessant pulling of warmth that seemed to pool around the edges that intermixed along the runes. They flickered with blue and grey light like a hazing mixing of clouds heralding rain. Even though Aurora says it’s more her lab then his own, if he could only feel the nature of his nature draped along this like a fine mist.

Ilyea was worried about his void ultimately corrupting it when they finally finished their blood ritual but fortune had smiled upon her; and his shadow magics helped with the subterfuge of her sanctum. Even when he was suffering, the magics here felt like his arms around her guiding her as she worked.

Time was her enemy.

Checking and re-checking the runes within the inner circle, Ilyea straightened the embossed silver stands that she had made especially for this occasion. She steadied them within her tight grip, and then carefully put the dagger that Aurora had gotten for her. It was an unusually beautiful dagger made of some type of elementium and saronite inlay as much as the mage could study when she had it. It glowed with the energies of the well and it was only with all the protections in place; Ilyea could feel safe in letting it come out.

It called to others of its kind and here’s hoping she can twist that against others of their own nefarious deeds. 

The stale buckets of water from Aurora and her sanctum were hefted and poured into the inner circle until the very ground puddled with the extra moisture. Tapping the runes; their flickered and the water seemed to settle creating a small lake for the stand. The dagger held like a prize within protective runes and waters for creation and containment.

It was almost time to create.

Letters would soon go soon to those she’d trust to help her with this. Ones she know that would help her despite the monumental task.

Someone to contain the void, someone to contain the souls and someone to tie it all together.  

Creation.

The scent of the bakers hard at work in the early hours ofthe morning greeted those that held on to the tendrils of sleep just a littlelonger.  Even early risers like he werestill in bed when the confectioners were already hard at work making dough riseand making that wretched drink called, coffee.  He could at least enjoy the scent of it butthe taste had never been one that had been pleasant on his tongue.  His taste laid more in tea and a finevintage.

Even within the confines of his office, he could imagine thescent of sweet pastries sneaking underneath his door or through the windowsill.  His breakfast, an array of fruit,eggs, and sausage still sat untouched in the corner of his desk.  The tea that had come with the meal, however,was gone and it was this that he mourned. Sighing, he placed the dish back on the platter and turned his attentionto the stack of papers to be graded.

He detested being a professor.  He could not teach how he wanted, in truepractical fashion.  Instead, he wasforced to show the theory and pseudo science that went into magic.  While he would have been in true agreementwith such a restriction in lower levels of classes, he did not understand itwhen it came to the more seasoned pupils. They knew the basics and he was just spouting rhetoric that had beenthrown at them many times before.  

The first stack of papers seemed to be crumpled as if thestudent had taken no care to make sure it was neat and tidy when it was turnedin.  Black and brown spots littered thecover page; the title Runic Theories in BloodMagick And Their Downfalls could barely be seen.  He was pretty sure the green marks were grassbut he was unsure of whether he understood why the student had chosen to turnin such an abused report.

He waved a hand at the enchanted quill that took notes forhim.  “Losing marks on presentation.  Filthy and it appears to have been pulled outof some rubbish bin.  Check for possibleplagiarism.  No name on the front cover. Tsk.”He shook his head and moved over to the second page.  It was blank except for a chicken scrawl of asentence in the middle of the page.

I am so bored herewith the Kirin Snore.

Bemusedly, he stared a little harder at the sentence beforea knock to the door made him turn annoyed sapphire blue eyes up to thedoor.  “Come in.”  He murmured gruffly, thinking it was one ofthe waiting staff.  “You may get rid ofit.”  Offhandedly, he pointed to theuntouched breakfast on the corner of his desk. His attention had returned to the theory paper in front of him.  Page after page, the same messageappeared.  Sometimes there was even arune traced in what looked like to be a brown substance.

“Professor Ravensdawn?”

Kael’deryn lifted his attention from the bewitching paper,letting his eyes fall on the young woman that stood at the door of hisoffice.  Disheveled hair.  Green eyes. Hollows beneath her eyes.  She appeared haggard and unlike any of thestudents that he taught.  

“Professor …”

Ilyea Lomeriel.  The name came to his mind so quickly he stoodup, startled.  The paper that he had beenlooking at suddenly began to bleed.  Infascination, he realized that the brown spots he had noted earlier were blood. Now,fresh crimson vitae stained the stack of papers, flooding his desk.  It took a life on its own as it made its waytowards him in such a quick movement that one might have thought there was afount of it below the desk.

“Professor.  I knowwhat you are.”  

Kael had stumbled back from the ever growing pool ofblood.  Animated and cognizant of him,the crimson sea was coming for him.  Ittouched the soft, supple leather of his boots and coiled around his feet interrifying tendrils.  They tightened and coiled around his ankles, growing thicker as they moved upwards over him,devouring him.

She watched his eyesdodge her, resisting the urge to scream. The blood was tangible, no longer liquid and nowhere near assluggish as it should have been.  Itcovered him completely, making the edges of his vision be tinged with red.  He made the mistake of gasping in that momentand the taste of blood invaded his mouth.

Fresh blood.  New blood. Warm blood.

He yelled out and the howl of wolves answered him.  Claws clipped the ground, moving towards themage that stood transfixed in the doorway. Her eyes were upon the creature that moved towards her with deadly andpowerful grace.

Do not be afraid.  He tried to say.  He spoke it as he would have any other timebut it came out in a series of growls and half-snarls.  Lips curled menacingly over sharp teeth.  He was worried for her.  For his friend, his confidante.

A confidante that hadforgotten who he was.

“Professor!”  Sheyelled, fear beginning to spike within her. It made her heart beat so much faster, pumping warmth throughout her sothat the pulse at her neck was suddenly wildly drawing his attention.  Both ears perked up, stalking dangerouslycloser to her until she deemed it necessary to run.

A scream echoed through the halls but she had ran.  Suddenly,she had become prey.  The hunter withinhim chased, hunted.  He was so much faster than she and hepounced upon her.  Another shriek lefther, fighting the creature that snarled over her.  Blood red eyes peered down at her with anger,snapping powerful jaws full of deadly teeth at her before his head was pulledback.

“ ‘ey! Snap out of it, birdie.” He was on his knees, a hand tangled tightly in his hair so that violet eyes were forced to look upwards into milky white eyes. “Don’t eat the staff, remember?” While Nasheera could not seehim in the normal way, she could see hisaura.  A small frown crossed over herfeatures as she stared down at him.  Outof the corner of his eye he saw a young, hassled woman scramble away from thetwo of them.  She did not even turn backas she ran down the hallway.

“Shame on you bird boy.” Theron blinked confusedly at Nasheera before a blinding pain in hisright hand made him look down at the rune that was etched into his skin.  He hugged the hand to his chest, biting backa small grunt of pain.  “You should notfight your nature.”  She snickered,patting the top of his head before she looked down at her own naked wrist.  “Do not eat the staff, okay?  I have a date and I do not like to be late.” She tapped her non-existent watch.

She left him kneeling in the hallway in nothing but a pairof shorts.  Recovering his wits, he tried to recall how he had gotten there. In slow horror, he realized that he had chased Ilyea in his dream.  Somehow, he had also given chase in real life.

It was not long after thatthe clock struck three.  The pain in his palm grew with each toll, spreading an agony through his limbs and bones that left him wishing for mercy.  The witching hour had arrived.

Inspired Music: 

“Phie….Phie, hey.. hey.

Can you hear me?Probably barely since it’s been so long since you’ve been back to the keep! Doyou want to play hide and go peek once more?

You were always so goodat finding me, and I tried so hard to hide.

Remember…. remember whenI hid within Lledwyn’s study when he was trying to meditate? He got so mad atus.

Those were good times.

I know we see each otherless and less because of all your training, but I’m always here when you comeback.

You get so scared whenMom’s voice is all demanding and kind of shrill. Kind of like those parrots wesaw once in Strangle thorn, all squawky. We’d both call her Mom the squawk, rememberPhie?

Hahah, that was a jokejust for us. Something that made everything less sad and funny even when Momwas being very serious, more serious then Lledwyn does.

When her eyes get wideand frightened and she’s holding back tears.

That’s when we had to bestrong right.

Do the healing thinguntil Mom stopped squawking and everything calmed down and we could bothbreath.

It’s way better thenlistening to the other voice that echoes along the halls, the really scary onethat tells you how much they want to do bad things.

The one that soundsfatherly but we both know that it’s not your father, but it seems to come atthe smallest times when I couldn’t be there for you Phie.

I’m sorry I couldn’t bethere all the time.

It’s hard to remain inthese halls and not get sucked into this same madness.

But I figured outsomething recently, Phie.

I wouldn’t be here if itwasn’t for those bad voices so maybe some good came out of it.

I wish I lived longenough to have a little girl just like you, Phie.

Your mommy must be proud.

Lledwyn is bringing theaxe away as to where I’m not sure, but that means the bad voices won’t botheryou anymore.

But that also means thatI won’t be around to play with you either.

Be strong little Phie,trust your Mom even when she’s squawky and know that you are never ever alone.

You are brave, and Ilove you.

~Last Message fromRhiannon, one of the many souls trapped in the well.

[ response to this post. ]

Time and time again, the arrow spliced through the previous. Each time, her breathing huffed out in determined pants. For hours she sat within the gardens poking holes into the targets made of straw and burlap. Nearly a week since her return, she still had not found herself adequate enough to venture on a hunt alone. Her wolves often accompanied her and still, she did not feel satisfied. Faethrunn stepped out of the back door to the kitchens with a dripping canteen of water and a red ribbon. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, you were gone for months.” He commented, passing her the ribbon to braid her red curls out of the way. It wasn’t perfect, but it would keep the hair off her neck while she trained. A side ways glance was offered to him, taking the canteen to wet her tongue and her hands. Brushing the water against her neck, she sighed and glanced up towards the sky. The sun was shining, but given the location the clouds never parted to grant them the bliss of its true rays. 

“I know it was an extreme amount of time, but I can’t waste anymore. There are things that need to be done. Business is to return to normal as soon as possible. I can’t appear weak when I step back into my empire.” She smiled at him and handed him the canteen before notching another arrow into her bow. The caw that sounded her arrival had the Queen lowering her weapon with a wider smile. “Ah, Rose. It has been far too long, my pretty bird.” She cooed, allowing Rose to perch upon her shoulder and hand her the letter. 

As she read the letter, Faethrunn was instructed to cut some bits of apple for the raven and to bring her stationary. Gentle strokes to the underside of her beak and neck were offered as she hummed her usual tune in a duet with the familiar. Once he returned, Celestine set Rose upon a small garden table and splayed the apples out for her before beginning her task of responding. 

“Dear Ilyea,

      Time has been unkind. It seems every time we have met, something has gone array. Perhaps it is me, or those we chose to spend our time with. I’m not entirely sure. I do know that Kael has taken quite well to you, the love of a friend, ally, and father radiates off of them whenever you are near or thought of. What you did for me, I can not thank you enough. I’m sure at some point you’ll come up with a way to be repaid, it is the least I can do. 

However, until then, I have no desire to give sideways glances of disdain to you, or yours. What is in the past should stay in the past. Perhaps things will work themselves out, but the word of what happened has still yet to reach the ears of those who need to hear it the most. The second letter that will be with this one, I ask that you share it with those who are close to you. Your Magistrix and brother most importantly. 

I’m not worried about what you could possibly say, I’m sure that most already know thanks to the drama that ensued after my slumber took hold. Take a moment and cherish what you have before you lose it, I know I should have. 

To a brighter future and a friendlier one, I hope.

-- Sincerely, Celestine”

She read over the letter and tapped the end of the feathered quill to her cheek as she pulled the next page. She began to scratch at the parchment, but for some reason these words were much harder to find than she had anticipated. 

“To whom it may concern, 

    After a series of misfortunate events, I have returned. I am well and very much alive. There were some misunderstandings before and after my death was announced. Kurel is not to be blamed for my death, even if his curiosity helped my killer find me. Lledwyn is also not to be blamed for my death. Evidence showed he had come to the tavern, and he did. He left just before my killer had arrived. I didn’t even have time to write him a thank you note for dropping off his sister’s research. The Wolves are not your enemy, we never were. None of them have a desire to harm those of the Port, the Scions, or really anyone else associated with both. All is forgiven, but not forgotten. 

It is my hope that we can look past this and move forward as stronger individuals. If we can not, then at least I made the effort to. 

-- Sincerely,        Black General Celestine Winters”

She sealed both of the letters and let out a sharp whistle, sounding for Arrow to come to her side. As the large white owl landed, he blinked at Rose and took the letters without another sound. Celestine returned her attention to the raven, brushing her finger along the crown of her little skull.