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Acherus
Duty came as it always did, as the bane of love.
Life had become peculiar since he moved in with Rue into her flat. For one he had a home where there wasnât danger from the source of a power hungry Warlock. That alone was an unsettling difference he hadnât quite gotten used to. There was a partner he wasnât overly shy of expressing âloveâ to, or whatever fashion of it that was left in his un-life. If Highlord Mograine could have such a profound sense of love and sacrifice to his father, then why not try it himself for Rue?
The runeblades were laid out before him. Weapons were always sharp and they were always dangerous, but runeblades were more than that. A font of power for a Death Knight, some even contained the souls of the slain to provide them necromancy based power. Heâd never have that discussion with Rue on whether or not his had any. The blue and red runes etched on the side glowed faintly and seemed to drink in the oil whenever he smoothed the cloth along the flat of the blade. In the reflection he saw two impassive yellow eyes, glowing faintly in the candle-lit atmosphere. Dawn hadnât quite come yet and he didnât sleep like mortals did. Too many thoughts dominated his head, the voices of other Knights, of memories and of the dead. It helped to keep himself busy with tasks like this. Preparing alchemical potions and tidying up his gear was a healthy pastime to kill the few hours in a day. Rue didnât mind most of the time, she was either fast asleep or busy doing her own work. He liked to think that they had a healthy relationship with how one was able to function stably without the other. Strangely it tickled his pride, one of the few emotions that were still easy to remember and prick, so he was ever content to keep things going as they were.
Then the voice came. A familiar one he hadnât heard for well over a few years, not since the Cataclysm hit and Kallimath Shadowwing walked away from the Ebon Blade to find his own niche in the world. The Scourge was contained, the Cult of the Damned a dying obsession. The world didnât need a group of Knights so much as more individuals wanting to fight. He didnât care for the wars of the Mortals. Ever since Pandaria he had washed his hands of politics and their conflicts.
But this voice was Highlord Mograine. And he only said one word.
âAcherusâ
Ever since the Lich King went dormant there hadnât been a real hivemind for Death Knights. They could still communicate with each other, yes, but it wasnât the same. But if you widened a creek itâd eventually become a river in its own right and this is how it was with the Ebon Blade. Kalli allowed the images to come in. Demons all over Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms. An Island out on the sea with a metallic structure spewing fel into the sky.
And so Kalli stood to his feet and strapped on his armor. All of it. Not the leathers of his monster hunting and the light chainmail he liked to move around in. Solid plate that had survived Northrend with the tabard of the Ebon Blade running down the center. Both runeblades slipped around his back and were buckled in with their scabbards.
The Highlord was calling all Death Knights to Acherus. War was coming.
He paused in the doorway and looked into the bedroom. Rue looked so peaceful and a pang that he felt only rarely clawed at his chest. Just when everything felt right in the world they would be split apart and dragged away from each other. Per usual life wasnât so fair, but that didnât mean the hurt was gone.
In the living room he cleared some space and knelt on the ground. The runes were ever familiar and they practically drew themselves. The death gate sprung open, a mawing void of necrotic and unholy energy that was locked to one place. With his ever tired sigh he stepped through to return to the past.
đĄ For someone my muse feels attracted towards, but dislikes
Asher: All of Banshee Howl p much. Nice ladies n pretty, but theyâve earned his eternal hatred for being FILTHY FUCKING CRIMINALS. Also Verlai. They used to be pals, but he realized how terrible of a human being she was.
Kallimath: Adamira his âexâ. Sheâs basically the woman that no one talks about in the fear of accidentally summoning her to Christmas dinner where she ruins everything.  Obviously attracted to her for how long they did shenanigans together, but ultimately his hopes were misplaced.
Hanth: Half the people he ends up talking to are criminally involved women. Which means half of that half are people who either try to sleep with him/he sleeps with or their angry friends that try to murder him.Â
As Iâm not terribly active on other toons I wonât do any mentions for them. Verath either gets along with people or doesnât care and Traysk is in toon limbo.
Evanrue
Kallimath silently grumbles. âNeed to help her move more furniture...â
Leaves: Your character or mine clearing the air about something. Fiameta for her favorite DK. :)
âYouâre a bigot.â The Knight said flatly. âFor all of your efforts to help people youâre still a bigot. A concept like a death knight being more than a corpse eludes you. I feel sorry for any intellectual Orc that ever comes across you.â Kallimath lazily buckles on his sword belt before walking off with a wave. âI donât waste my time with bigots.â

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"Talk to me"
3.âWhat if I told you, I want you to be mine?â
The Knight would never say such a thing to someone he barely knew. Especially when a child would be involved with such if the feeling were reciprocated. Yet some compulsion made him spit it through clenched teeth.
âWhat ifâŚ.I told youâŚI want you to be mine?â If felt like someone was searing his brain.
á¤
74-Â âNever Apologize to People, They donât deserve itâ
Every once in a while Kallimath found himself in the company of Miraâs old friend Fae. Rarely was it by choice, more so by coincidence, but she was a tolerable person and they didnât have much reason to detest each other so he could never complain.
They were strolling around the City in mostly silence. Kallimath only made the occasional remark to something Fae said. He still didnât know her well enough to pursue active conversation so he let her do all of the talking for the most part. They were making a pass through the Row when she accidentally bumped into some man who wasnât paying attention to where he was going. She was going through the motions of apology when the man exploded in profanities and attitude. âDonât fucking touch me again you stupid cunt. Iâll knock out your teeth next time.â
And so the man stomped off and the Mage seemed a little smaller in stature. âNever apologize to people.â He remarked. âMost of the time they donât deserve it.â
If you were my significant other... we all know how well that worked last time.
"YesâŚyou did a mighty job of botching that."