#kitsuma

angst kiss :: not accepting //4. a kiss as a warning

LOYALTY.

           Sylvanas treasured it beyond all measure, she HUNGERED for it. How many times she’d been abandoned, or thwarted due to someone’s lapse of allegiance. She did understand at times, while there were so many who wished to control everyone by stripping away the mind. To reduce it to its basic components. At times she thought of how easy this all would have been, had she simply been so cruel. If she stooped to the level of their old jailers, to masters unworthy of the title.

           Yet she did not.

           Her decision made these moments all the sweeter, when morality and honour mattered not to those that had devoted themselves to her. They overcame the atrocities others could not, and Sylvanas was not certain if that made her loyalists fools, or WORTHY of consideration.

           The Banshee Queen chose the latter option for now, though her trust in them was not nearly as strong as their faith in her. No, she’d finally learnt the lesson, that no one could be trusted, save for her champion. His loyalty to her had seen her through nearly everything, and not once had he wavered.

           At Dark Shore, he hesitated. Do not forget that.

           A lapse in verdict, but not betrayal. She could count on Nathanos. Nothing would convince her of otherwise.

           But he was not here.

           Before her stood another.

           A sin’dorei woman, pretty, with auburn hair and eyes that burned a bright, fel-touched green. She stood before Sylvanas with her head bowed, leather armour with hardened armguards and greaves. Her hair bound back in a tail, long bangs tucked behind ears that stood tall and healthy.

           Kalistra Heartpride.

           Loyalist.

           “I am no longer your warchief,” Sylvanas stated, watching the younger woman. “There’s no reason to bow.”

           Kalistra’s gaze rose, but there was nothing but admiration in her eyes. She trusted Sylvanas implicitly.

           “You are the Warchief,” Kalistra responded. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind. “Saurfang lost, and you did not abdicate the throne.”

           Sylvanas barked out a harsh, venomous laugh, “is that what it was? I had thought it a prison, suffering fools endlessly.”

           “Your efforts have not gone unnoticed,” the Dark Lady commented with a smirk, “your faith in me has been… refreshing.”

           All around Windrunner Spire, loyalists lurked. They hide in the shadows, they watched, they waited. Sylvanas’ enemies thought her alone, thought that it was only a fraction of the Forsaken that remained devoted to her.

           They were so very wrong.

           “Give me your hand,” Sylvanas took the appendage with a firm grip, removing the woman’s glove.

           Her skin was warmth, healthy, fair. Fingers faintly calloused, but not nearly as much as they should be. The blessings the vanity of elves brought, everyone took great care of themselves.

           With her other hand, she drew a knife from its sheath. She grazed the point of blade along the smooth flesh in idle thought.

           “If they discover where your loyalty truly lies,” the Banshee Queen murmured, “you’ll lose your head. Old gods may distract them now, but never permit your guard to wane.”

           “Where will you go?”

           “Away from here.” She responded, glancing up into the hunter’s green eyes.

           “But—“

           Sylvanas pressed harder with the knife, cutting skin, letting blood run. Kalistra hissed, but found she could not pull her arm away.

           “When the time comes,” Sylvanas effortlessly switched into Thalassian, crimson gaze lingered on the red liquid running so freely from the wound. She leaned in, pressing her cold lips to the cut.

           Indigo smoke slipped from the banshee’s lips. It seeped into the cut, strange, otherworldly runes appearing on Kalistra’s forearm as the sinister magic mended the skin.

           Sylvanas licked the blood from her lips, returning Kalistra’s glove.

           “Your loyalty with see you through,” the words were spoken with a siren’s charm. Sultry and alluring, yet there was malevolence weaved in. A warning, or perhaps a threat, as to what may happen should the young sin’dorei (or any of the Dark Lady’s loyalists) dare to break their oath.

           Kalistra nodded, though there were a thousand questions running through her mind.

           “For the Dark Lady.” She vowed, bowing her head once more.

           A pledge eagerly given, but easily broken.

           The distant reminder was cruel but honest, Sylvanas knew that.

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tell my why don’t we write together :: accepting // 

aaiiiiyyeeee, you do not need fancy things to rp with me lovely. whilst pretty things are always lovely to look at, what matters the most to me is writing. my requirements are pretty basic:

           you have an interest in rping

           your muse, whether a canon or oc, has their own blog ( its own, in a multi-muse, or a side-blog )

           an about page, and a rules page

that’s it. nothing fancy required. about pages are pretty simple, and are especially important for ocs. i want to know about your character ( and i need to know about them for Sylvanas to properly interact with ‘em ). rules tell me what you will and will not rp, if you have any triggers, and generally muns put their age in there as well, or a rough estimate ( 21+ for example ).

i doubt your writing is lacking, and i don’t expect any of my partners to be perfect. you do not need to match myself ( or any writing partner ) word for word. generally what people expect is if say Person A writes three paragraphs, Person B replies back with more than a couple of sentences.  

           mistakes happen, i read over my stuff after i post and catch mistakes all the time. i’m sure you’ve read something i’ve posted and caught some errors. all you can do is shrug it off, and keep going.

i think you got over the first hurdle love, by sending in the meme. now you can just attack me with words. >:D

SCREEEEEECCCH

messages :: always accepting //

“If you dare touch me–”

YES. yes she would. hug her. she needs kindness in her life, some appreciation and not an ever growing list of alliance dogs and traitors people hurting her.

hug sylvanas ( or die trying ) :: accepting //@kalistra-heartpride

She did not know WHY everyone insisted on bombarding her with affection, but she was growing very tired of it. She wondered off hand if it were a prank, some sort of trick someone was playing on her. Either way, she was so, very, very tired of it.

           She heard something move behind her, and pivoted to meet it. Her eyes blazed with fury as she outstretched a hand and caught the interloper, a woman she’d never seen before. A sin’dorei, a pretty little thing that the irritating Banshee Queen was holding by her throat.

           “You’ve had the cleverest scheme so far,” Sylvanas remarks in Thalassian, her smile wicked as she holds the assailant without so much as a waiver.“A pity it didn’t work.”

           She dropped the elf, glaring down at her.

Surely this meant that Kalistra no longer valued her life, why else would she dare act in such a manner around her queen.

           There is just a flicker of amusement in the Banshee Queen’s eyes, near drowned out by an overwhelming desire for murder of the unkindest sort. Flaying was not something she was ordinarily drawn too—but the concept entered her mind with the allure of the sweetest honey.

           There was no mistaking the drop in temperature.