She also wondered how much she could recognise. The adventure so far had been... informative. Enjoyable. She'd brought along the book she'd inherited from her father and had already spent years putting diagrams, sketches, and no shortage of botanical research and observations into. Despite having it, however, she hadn't much used it. This was supposed to be holiday, after all, and Laeynna didn't take holiday very well. It would have been easier to work, but the problem with so much work was that she got so focused on it sometimes she forgot to look at the rest of the world.

Maybe that was hard to do when she loved plants and flowers and greenery of all kinds. Was there anything more beautiful than the very presence of life itself in front of the eyes? Except all the world was living and beautiful. What a very unfair comparison that might have been.

The time spent was nice. They'd seen the beaches of Stranglethorn, ruins, the coliseum, and even stayed in the bay for a little. On the ship down to Pandaria, they learnt about engineering and the schematics of the ship itself, that Laeynna still very much had a fear of heights, and that some of the others were not the most appreciative of loud noises aboard. In Pandaria, they'd gone fishing, though hadn't caught a single thing as the fish were simply too clever, visited the breweries, saw the silk worms, appreciated the oversized vegetables and fruits, had sushi and no shortage of other neat culinary delights. In some ways, the downtime was maybe a little more relaxing than she wanted it to be, and she didn't relax well either.

Something was different, though. She didn't know what it was. Something felt different. He looked at her differently, she thought, spoke to her a little differently. Maybe something more gentle? Andaeros had always been gentle, though. That wasn't it. She didn't know what to make of it. She just knew that it wasn't the same. Part of her wondered if it was because the distance between them during his extended absence, resigning herself to the notion that he might not return, and becoming somewhat emotionally detached might not have fully left her.

Things were better now, of course. She was better now. He'd certainly deserved that instead of the relatively cold and self-preserving welcome she'd given him. Although it had never been personal. In her head, there was no way to immediately jump right back into things the way they once were, especially not with her hang ups and history with that kind of closeness with someone. Coupling that in with realisations that work and effort expended over time felt like it had amounted to nothing had been a crushing blow.

It had been so bad, in fact, that she'd gone to stay with her parents for a few days, and that had been when she gave a farewell to her hair. She hadn't known how to proceed forward. She hadn't known how to just accept things for what they were, especially when she felt like she deserved better. Laeynna knew she wasn't entitled to anything when it involved other people. She wasn't arrogant enough to believe that, but at the very least, a little communication would have gone a long way.

That, she'd believed, was the bare minimum.

So when they'd return to Quel'Thalas, what was she going to do? Just keep doing things as she felt she was expected to? Feel guilty when she didn't do those things and be isolated for not doing them? Were those really her only options? And if they were, did she even want to put herself right back into that situation?

Laeynna sighed, not knowing the answer to any of that, and wondering if she simply expected the worst because it had largely been the worst before she'd left. Almost. Right before, there had felt like a small, tiny little piece of promise, a little tiny piece of hope. But she didn't know if she could trust it. Hope had, so far, only done terrible things to her. Hope was dangerous.

She suspected, in the end, it wasn't going to immediately matter. They still had a trip to Northrend to make before even returning home. No amount of worrying until then would mean anything, would hold any sort of weight. With the entire world in front of her, it was a wiser idea just to live in it, with unanswered questions and uncertainties alike.

Laeynna could do that.

Physical Appearance –––

Hair: White / Platinum Blonde - Currently at her chin. Facial Hair: N/A Eyes: Peridot Green, Flecks of Gold Height: 5'2" Build: Small, Petite Distinguishing Marks: Subtle fel veins spiderweb in a nonsensical fashion up over her collarbone and towards her neck. These are not particularly noticeable in daylight, but are more apparent in darker environments. Scars: A section of subtle scars exist over her right hip, though they have largely been covered by the tattoo that exists there. Tattoos: A monochromatic widow spider stretches over her right hip, legs extending upward and downward from that position. Piercings: Multiple. All of these are in the ears, following the line up. Common Accessories: She frequently carries a simple leather-bound tome that contains botanical research, theories, diagrams, observations, and sketches. She also carries the following: a poignard of deep cobalt blue, a seemingly nondescript compass, and a simple cut of . She is always wearing a delicate silver bracelet about her right wrist. Attached to it is a heart charm. Likeness: Natalie Dormer

Personal Information –––

Profession: Laeynna is a botanist by trade, having researched plants all across Azeroth for years. Hobbies: Singing, playing the harp, reading history and other academic pursuits, drinking wine, studying the Light and its properties for practical use. Languages: Orcish, Thalassian, Common (very little) Currently Living: Quel'Thalas - An apartment within Silvermoon Birthplace: Quel'Thalas - A home estate southwest of the city. Religion: N/A Fears: Not being good enough for others, not being liked by others, settling down in one place for too long, commitment in general, making promises, breaking said promises, being a disappointment.

Personality/Description:

Laeynna is small and demure, presenting a relatively unsuspecting nature about her person. She appears frail, quite pale with moonlight hair, and dim peridot green eyes touched by the occasional flicker of gold. It is subtle and perhaps only noticeable in the proper lighting, but at her collar there are inconspicuous lines of glowing fel that spider up along her skin towards her neck.

It is evident in the way that she carries herself that she comes from a time in which social caste systems within Quel'Thalas were more of import. She often wears fanciful dresses and takes pride in her appearance, making her likely seem at least somewhat palatable to the objective eye.

Laeynna likes jewellery and wears a good deal of it. Earrings, bracelets, necklaces, rings, and others of the like adorn her, though not oft in a gaudy fashion.

Her expression often appears preoccupied and thoughtful. Others have objectively described her as difficult to read. Although usually quite composed, she is most expressive when she is angered by something. Like many of her people, she has, over time, become masterfully good at wearing masks and disguising the truth of her feelings and thoughts.

Laeynna struggles to be upfront or direct and frequently is more the type to talk herself in circles. She seems to experience a fair amount of social anxiety, stuck in an age where she can be obsessive over what others think of her.

She is quite good at being amicable, civilised, and incredibly respectful of others when necessity dictates it, even towards people who she feels may not deserve that. In spite of this she's not much of a socialite for fun or casual happenstance. On the contrary, when not under requirement for social niceties, Laeynna can come across as shy, quiet, and very introverted, making it a challenge to know who she truly is beyond her numerous walls of self-preservation.

Beneath the layers of external attempts to be welcoming (served with a fair amount of nervousness), she actually feels things intensely. Laeynna is often quietly at war with herself between logic and harbouring a softer heart. She holds many secrets, especially about herself and her past, and the truth of things she's done may ultimately make her a person full of living contradictions.

Relationships –––

Mother: Seilahs Luridveil (Alive) Father: Reknon Luridveil (Alive) Siblings: Ankalei Luridveil (Twin Sister - Reanimated Corpse - Darkfallen) Children: N/A Other Family: A collective of still-living cousins, none of which she's particularly close with. Pets: Rags (ginger cat), Embryss (tarantula), Pecky-Lynn (chicken), Nugget (chicken)

Sex & Romance –––

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual / Pan-Romantic Preferred Role: Dominant | Submissive | Switch | Unknown Preferred Position: Bottom | Top | Vers | Unknown Turn ons: Glasses, intelligence, academia, manual labour, shows of strength Turn offs: Being more arrogant than her, controlling and selfish demeanour, being unkind, cruelty, passive aggressive behaviour Love Language: Quality time, acts of service, words of affirmation Relationship Tendencies: Laeynna tends to self-sabotage or turn tail and flee when a relationship gets too serious.

Traits –––

Bold your character’s answer

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted Disorganized / In Between / Organized Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded Calm / In Between / Anxious Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable Cautious / In Between / Reckless Patient / In Between / Impatient Outspoken / In Between / Reserved Leader/ In Between / Follower Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic Traditional / In Between / Modern Hard-working / In Between / Lazy Cultured / In Between / Uncultured Loyal / In Between / Disloyal Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional Information –––

Smoking Habit: Never Drugs: Never Alcohol: Liberally

RP Hooks –––

This information is specifically more for members of the Blood Knight Order if they choose to use it. (For anyone else, this is purely flavour text.) Once known under the name Zinnvais Luridveil, she was apprehended for graverobbing and experimenting on her fellow people.

Laeynna's twin sister, Ankalei Luridveil, once served in both the royal guard and the Blood Knight Order, is currently a member of the Horde expedition and provides security for the Succulent Tart performing group. Laeynna and Ankalei are identical twins and share similar appearances and voices. It would not be difficult to mistake one for the other or vice versa.

Laeynna has worked alongside the Royal Apothecary Society for years, having spent a decent amount of her time living in Tirisfal before relocating across the water to Kalimdor for a time. She provides them with regular materials and aids in observation and various field tests of the alchemical variety.

She's a fairly accomplished harpist and songstress. In their younger years, Laeynna and Ankalei used to perform publicly together.

Laeynna is the daughter of Reknon Luridveil, a man with a history of observations on fel experimentation behind him. His numerous pieces of writing are available for public perusal. Laeynna has opted to continue his writings where she is able to.

She has, within the last year, begun to study the workings of the Light, with the interest of putting her magical affinity and prowess towards constructive uses. It's not uncommon to find her studying or nosily going through Silvermoon's public archives.

Once a member of the Tirisfal Theatre Troupe, Laeynna graced its stages many times, though perhaps objectively was best known for her portrayal as Sylvanas Windrunner in the satirical farce, Hellsqueal. She continues to hold an appreciation for the arts of all varieties and continues to support them as regularly as she can.

Looking For –––

Friends. Laeynna needs friends!

Would also love frenemies, potential people from Laeynna's past (especially people she wronged), bad influences??, other pre-established connections (with discussion).

I like making connections with other players and really want to build relationships with other characters. I believe in organic development and will roleplay pretty much anything on the spectrum from joyful, domestic bliss to tragedy and anguish to murder and other reprehensible things. (I am pretty not good at writing combat; sorry in advance!)

I love the exploration and the growth between characters and their dynamics, be it positive, negative, or in some grey place.

Contact –––

You can contact me with IC or OOC things on the below: In-game Mail / Tells / Messages Tumblr Asks / Messages If you have my discord name, please feel free to reach out to me, especially if we share a discord server. (I don't hand this out, but I'll give it to people I've played with before.)

“Lady Emberflame.”

The furrow in her dark, well-maintained brow began to lessen and as Laeynna roused herself from the abyss she had begun to throw herself down, she found in front of her the woman with the fiery red hair that she had hired half a year prior with coin that was not hers to handle the responsibilities that she either could not or declined from doing. Talmar Bloodsinger, a younger woman who was not exactly starry-eyed, but eager to please. A more than worthy distraction for the lord of the estate that Laeynna had served so diligently. And now, instead of tending to the master of settlement’s needs, she was in a cottage doing… things that were decidedly not even her responsibility.

Yet for Laeynna, perhaps she did not mind so much.

“...Apologies,” Laeynna began, shaking her head and with that motion, many of the thoughts that involved a past she felt ambivalent regarding. She straightened her posture from the doorway she had been leaning against, connecting hallway between sitting room, kitchen, her personal quarters, and the stairway that led to the cellar.

Talmar’s concern, transparent in the way it was writ across her face. “Are you well, my lady?” Shaking her head as she continued, she scouted the sitting room, neatly composed and tidied. “I am not certain you ought to be doing this. What harm could there be in staying here just a little longer?”

No. She couldn’t. The thought of staying even days longer than she should have made the knot growing in the pit of her stomach intensify. Tendrils of anxiety flailed to and fro in a darkness that Talmar could not see or even begin to imagine. Like a little creature of unspeakable horrors being nurtured by Laeynna’s insecurities and doubts.

You don’t understand.

Laeynna shook her head, straightening her posture and she forced out a breath, trying to seem even and restrained. “No, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about… how much needs to be done.” Moving her peridot gaze off of her immediate companion, the botanist removed herself from the doorframe and she examined the sitting room as a whole. Books. The harp. Trinkets and baubles here and there. A desk with an open book atop it. Beside it, a compass. She couldn’t believe she was going to do it to herself all over again. 

No. That was untrue. She could. She had lost everything before. Everything. At least this time, it was her choice. Agency. At least she had the agency to make that decision. Consequences be damned…

“You ought to take it with you,” Talmar followed her gaze as it travelled from piece to piece and with a hand, she motioned to the harp. “His lordship doesn’t play. He won’t have use for it once you have truly departed.”

She couldn’t do that either. As Laeynna found her attention lingering on the harp, so neatly kept, she approached it. With a handle, she reached for it and gently traced her fingertips along the wooden curvature, so delicate in its form and stunning. It had reminded her so much of the one she had played in younger years. Except she remembered the night Ashire had reclaimed his family’s estate. When he announced the return of House Larethmyr. The man who had come to claim his life. The plunge of her poignard into that same man.

“There is only room for one spider in this manor.”

She had played distraction and Ashire had… looked at her in a way that had reminded her of the same way so many others had looked at her. And it had only gotten worse afterwards. With the report he had claimed from the Order archives, her fate had been sealed. Agency. No. She had been a captive, held under the firm thumb of a man who could have destroyed her. And so she caved.

Laeynna nearly shook as the memories fluttered about her head. The rustle of sheet music made her jump.

“What’s this?” Talmar asked, peering over a collective of parchment dotted in elegant script and the makings of composition.

“Oh—” The weight between her feet shifted and as Laeynna removed her hand from the harp, she laughed uncertainly. Quietly. “That’s… It’s. It’s just a piece I was working on. I won’t be able to finish it, I don’t think.”

I’m sorry, Andaeros.

Faced with the downward pull of Talmar’s mouth, Laeynna knew that whatever she had to say she wouldn’t be able to endure hearing. Instead, she reclaimed the collection of sheet music, four pages. An incomplete piece. Setting it back to the music stand where it had been waiting for her, she used her other hand to motion Talmar along.

“Come. I will figure out how to handle this room later.” Laeynna wasn’t fully certain of that either. She said it, but she wondered if she did so to convince herself. With a hand gently placed at the small of her companion’s back, the botanist guided Talmar to her personal quarters. “This room ought to be easier. Most of the things in here I cannot take with me. Well, most of the things outside of my wardrobe. And. Some other things.”

She watched Talmar step carefully around, surveying with her gaze. When she approached the vanity, she found a singular orchid in shades of twilight and midnight, as if it were suspended in time. As she reached out to touch it, Laeynna cleared her throat. “Could you please not,” she began. “That is important to me.”

“For all that you carry yourself so terse and unfeeling in his lordship’s estate, you have been nothing but emotional since you told me you were planning to leave Lord Larethmyr’s service.” Talmar moved to the wardrobe in question, idly going gown by gown before she paused and offered Laeynna a smile. “I never would have taken you for being that kind of person.”

The only response Laeynna could provide was a scoff. A short-lived laugh that was used to cover her hesitance. “Please. There are plenty of things about me that you do not know. Things you do not need to know. Let us remember that I am the one who hired you. Prior to this very moment, you had no need to know more than my name. And that you were to answer to me and see to Lord Larethmyr’s every wish.”

Met with Talmar rolling her eyes, she had no opportunity to offer any further witty retort. Instead, the curly-haired elf pulled out an outfit hung—reds and blacks, lace and rivets, corsetry and full skirts. “You can’t blame me for being curious. The less you say about yourself, Lady Emberflame, the more mysterious you are. People always want to unravel a mystery. I bet that’s all intentional. You can’t tell me that you haven’t used it to your advantage. For instance—” Holding up the outfit in question, she gently shook it back and forth. “—The mystery of who you would wear this for. Not his lordship, right?”

“Talmar,” Laeynna warned her with a soft edge to her tone. Closing the distance between the two, she attempted to make a grab for the hanger that held her dress and promptly frowned when Talmar drew it from her grasp. “No. Of course not. And even if I had, it would be none of your concern. I am allowed to wear such things, am I not?”

Faced with the dress in question, however, Laeynna found herself offering the most subtle smile. This one had good memories to it. Of arts and sculptures. Of flowers and paintings. Of antiquated frames and contemporary romance. Of heated kisses in the dark. Of tangled fingers in the lacing. Scraping her teeth over her bottom lip, she found she could not keep her smile from growing. In that there had been agency. An exhilarating agency. A very bold and brazen agency. She’d never done anything like that before, but it had been the decisively right thing to do. At the time. In the moment.

“Oh…?” Talmar teased with an impish grin. “Someone’s happy. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile like that. Whoever you wore it for must have really liked you in it.”

“I…” And that one, Laeynna couldn’t be sure. She had never asked. Come to think of it, she’d hardly even considered it, really. Of course she wanted to wear things she thought were pretty, but that had been purely from her perspective. “...I do not know,” she admitted somewhat quietly as she reached for the dress again, this time able to touch it. Painted dark nails traced down along the fabric of lace, a contrast to the pale porcelain of her touch. “I would not consider myself particularly alluring.”

Talmar’s laugh came so quickly that it caught Laeynna unawares and she’d been unable to hide the surprise that flickered across her expression. “You’re not serious,” the red-of-hair woman replied. “You don’t think you’re alluring? Mystery is alluring, my lady.”

“No, I realise that, but—”

Laeynna tilted her head as she watched Talmar put the dress in question away, rifling through the rest of her collection. Allure, like anything else, was subjective. Two people could stand beside one another, taking in the same subject, and feel completely different about it. What she thought of as alluring was not how she classified herself at all. She could pretend. She had pretended. For years. For so long that she had forgotten herself. Who she was beneath all of the lies that she had piled atop one another. Becoming the version of someone else’s allure…

Well. It didn’t mean she had any, in truth. She had only been playing a part. Being the woman others wanted her to be. Acting in the way others wanted or expected her to act. Carrying herself the way others thought she should have. Her expression fell as she turned her thoughts over in her head, but in the same way she questioned her own perception regarding her familial values, she found herself questioning the legitimacy of how others defined allure.

Even if she couldn’t see it in herself, it didn’t mean that it invalidated the perception others carried. It was too complicated. If she validated those who had used her, those who had taken advantage of her, those she had allowed to make use of her… Lifting a hand, Laeynna fanned fingertips along her bottom lip, wondering if she, in those moments of time, rendered her pleas for agency moot and void.

Was she a victim? Was she the catalyst? Had her hand been forced? Had she only been trying to survive? Had she been dead inside? Had she simply detached herself and moved as muscle demanded? Her thoughts spun again and once more that growth of anxiety in the deepest part of herself showed its teeth and gnawed along her insides.

Stop, she pleaded with herself, her hand falling just beneath her bust and spreading her touch, as if she couldn’t breathe. Please stop. Keep breathing. Just keep breathing. Laeynna could feel herself splinter down. Sucking in a crisp inhale, she held it long enough to feel the ache in her chest before she forced herself to expel it. She could feel Talmar’s concern on her again. The burning look of that worry, like it could slip fingernails beneath her proverbial armour and force it up, revealing all of the soft, vulnerable tissue beneath.

“My lady,” Talmar’s voice broke into her thoughts again. “...I really do think you ought not to leave, if you can help it. You may not be his acting steward any longer, and I have no idea what happened to make such a thing occur, but the others in the settlement know what services you have provided. House Larethmyr owes its success to you. Many of the people here would gladly serve you. They could provide for you. Give back to you thirty fold in return for all you’ve done. Won’t you reconsider?”

Laeynna took a step back from her wardrobe. Then another. Until she made way back to her vanity and she sat in her quiet. Eyeing the orchid propped up against her mirror, she took it into hand, eyeing the petals with a great deal of thought. What was it he had said? That she was the way. The way forward. To his apartment. To the cottage. To Winterspring.

Winterspring.

Shaking her head, evening herself, she didn’t completely silence the contemplation that rattled about in her head. She couldn’t. They would, no matter how she tried, not simply be crushed beneath proverbial heel. But she could measure herself. She had to measure herself.

This is the way forward. With a delicate, reverent touch, she traced the outer petal of the singular orchid flower. You are the way forward.  “No,” she answered then as she looked to Talmar. “It needs to be this way. I want it to be this way.”

“Oh, for the love of…”

Laeynna sighed, lifting her hands into her dark, messy hair. She’d been sitting for… what was it, hours? Hours, she was certain, on an early morning in which the sun had not yet entirely poked itself out to greet the world, though was definitely threatening to do so. She was not yet presentable for the day and had no real plans to make herself so. At least not yet. Dressed in a rather simple dressing gown of white, she looked—and felt—like a mess.

Rising from where she sat, bare feet crossed over a dark wood floor and she stretched her arms over her head just until she could feel the gentle strain and pull on muscle that sent a minute rippling ache right into her shoulder. “Why am I so awful at this?” She wasn’t asking anyone in particular. If Andaeros was up, it was because he was in the washroom likely doing his morning rituals of trimming the hairs that graced his cheeks and his neck. If he wasn’t up then she had been doing him the extra courtesy of staying quiet to let him have some peace and likely much-needed slumber. And if Rags was going to be presenting any kind of response, it was likely to sound as scraggly as he looked.

Drawing in a breath to centre herself, Laeynna held it and shook her head. Her hands slowly dropped back to her sides and she freed the same exhale she’d held captive. Hopefully with it, some of the worry and anxiety that nibbled along her insides. Why did it seem like it was easier to write her father than it had been to write her twin? Tilting her head, her gaze fluttered over to the kitchen counter where she’d put on a kettle for tea. She’d already had one cup, but seemed about ready for another. Slowly making her way over to it, what once was empty was filled with a steeped black tea and as she leaned onto the counter, she curled her slender, musician’s fingers around the porcelain, comforted and soothed all at once by its welcoming warmth.

She knew why it’d been easier. Sort of. In truth, she cared more about her sister’s opinion than her father’s. Reknon and Seilahs would not live forever. Ankalei now, most likely, would. There was also the notion that it was… Well. Frankly horrifying to face the woman she had so unforgivingly done away with. She still couldn’t remember what had happened, just as she had told Andaeros when she made such a fated confession. After discussing it with him, even, Laeynna found herself thinking about it a lot. Where once it had lingered in the back of her mind, it now had a place in the forefront. Ankalei would know. But would asking only dredge up the past? Was it not more important to acknowledge that, regardless of reason, there were no excuses, no validation, no legitimate reasoning for what she’d done? Was it not better to acknowledge it and, as her other half had urged, seek forgiveness?

Provided Ankalei was willing to give it.

Understanding the past, some might have argued was worthwhile, if only to apply to the future. But Laeynna had never had another moment in time like that. She had never again lost herself and she certainly was very much not the same person she’d been then. Many, many things had changed. Would anything like it ever happen a second time? She didn’t think so. Most likely not. She couldn’t know for certain, but when she lifted a hand and eyed it, trying to imagine what blood must have stained it, she knew she didn’t want anything like that to happen. Which meant she wasn’t going to allow anything like that to happen.

Not again.

With a gentle furrow in dark brow, her mouth pulled to one side, in somewhat a childish sort of manner. She was no closer to figuring out how to start her letter, though, or what to include in the body of it. She was good at diplomacy and whilst she could have relied on that, it felt so… impersonal. She didn’t want to be impersonal with her sister. On the contrary, she wanted to bring Ankalei to the apartment to have tea and coffee and cake with her and Andaeros. She wanted Ankalei to be a part of her life. She wanted to… to… to make up for all of the time that they’d missed out on, though she understood that wasn’t exactly possible. Even if it was, there was potential that Ankalei would not want that. It was too easy to get caught up in what she hoped would come out of such a correspondence. Too convenient to let herself hope too much with a heart that was not at all practised with experiencing hope.

Simple was going to be better. No outright apologies. Gratitude and acknowledgement for Ankalei’s part in Laeynna’s current state of affairs. And a very gentle invitation that involved no expectation or pressure. An invitation for conversation. She drafted the bare minimum ideas in her head, thinking that she was, as usual, best when she put her most logical foot forward. The balance between the mind and the heart was a most complicated one and as someone who had very rarely used her heart in the past, she found herself agreeing with the comparison Andaeros had once made of it.

He had, at one point in time, resonated with the notion that the heart was a muscle. Without its use, its strength diminished and thus, an ache when it began to carry weight or strain. And like any other muscle, it would need to be practised. He’d not said the next part, but Laeynna had inwardly reminded herself that for her heart to grow strong, it would require patience, time, and understanding. She could not hold those same ideals for others, if she could not first hold them for herself.

As if feeling her resolve fortify, Laeynna lifted her cup of tea and making way back to where her pile of parchment waited, several with unfinished, scribbled letters marking her frustration at an inadequate display of colloquial elegance, she sat back down. Setting her cup down as warm and tranquil companion, she located a new quill, lightly brushing the tip of her forefinger along its nib. She’d make certain it was ready for when Andaeros sought to seize his day.

Besides, they had one more left to write. Together.

— @daily-writing-challenge

Laeynna looked thoughtful as she turned Junarra’s words over in her head. The goblin had no way of knowing it at the time, but the words were more accurate and striking than Laeynna wanted them to be. It was one more thing for her to confront. One more thing for her to contemplate. Combining it with everything else she was trying to hold in her hands, it felt like it was the last thing she could endure before breaking. And she certainly… had broken. In one way or another, at least.

But Andaeros had weathered it. She wasn’t accustomed to that. Perhaps because she hadn’t allowed anyone to ever do so before. She kept replaying their conversation in her head.

“Let me help you, in some small way. If not for your sake, then for mine. To feel put to use.”

She’d always kept him at a distance. Proverbial arm lifted to keep a certain space between them. Some things she could handle. Sharing his bed, she realised, had been somewhat easier than the other things. Sharing her heart. Letting him into hers. Exposing herself. Revealing her secrets. Facing his judgement. Those had been so much more difficult. Many of those hurdles she had managed to clear with time, patience, and circumstance. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t supposed to be.

Laeynna had never wanted it to be.

Eyeing the compass she clutched in her hand, she gently shut it, deciding that it was likely not going to help direct her. Lowering her hand, she held his compass atop her heart and stared through the leafy branches above her thoughtfully. It wasn’t just her in a relationship. She couldn’t keep the same approach. It wasn’t fair or right to Andaeros. It wasn’t how she wanted it to be either. Once, he had reminded her that their relationship was based on mutuality. Mutual sentiments. Mutual needs. Where she had argued the concept of relying on him, he’d corrected her.

Would… it have been such a terrible thing to depend on him? To let him help her? Scraping her teeth along her bottom lip, the furrow in her brow was deep. It wasn’t just for her. It was for him, as well. If she wanted to be useful to him, then it made sense that he would feel the same way. If she forever made it seem as though she would face everything herself, then she would only succeed at building a wall between them.

“...I love you, Laeynna…”

Love. There was that, too. It still played repetitiously in her head. The first time he’d said it on a golden, sunny morning, it had nearly petrified her with fear. At least, a part of her. There was the part that had been extremely overcome with emotion, which was, in her opinion, not very like her at all. Days had made it a little easier for her to digest and to accept. Thinking it had been one thing. Saying it had been another entirely. Claiming the words. Committing to them. Letting herself accept them. Acknowledging that he was the one offering them to her.

Laeynna still had complications with it. The kinds that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her perception of self. He knew about some of it. How she viewed herself. And she had admitted to him relatively early on that she was always so much kinder to others than she was to herself. As to whether he knew how deep all of that went, however, she wasn’t certain. It was not a subject she really wanted to dive into, and convinced that he might eventually come to perceive her as an imposition, a burden, she’d struggled to say anything.

If she accepted his invitation, would it be too much? For him? For her? For them? Would she break everything? Was their love so fragile that she thought she could snap it so easily?

Shaking her head, Laeynna huffed out a breath. No. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Not when it took them as long as it did to get to where they were. For her, it wasn’t some trivial concept. Andaeros wasn’t… some passing fancy, and her feelings had never been trivial or meagre sorts when she actually started accepting she had them. If that was the course she had charted for herself, then it was the one she intended to travel. She would have to adjust how she thought about things. All things. Not just her deepened relationship with the disgraced spellbreaker, but also with herself.

Something had to give.

With a soft little sigh, Laeynna lifted the compass again, standard make. Durable. Steel alloy. Glass. As she carefully opened it, she flattened her palm, watching the arrow in red remain in the very same spot that it had been the last time she opened it. No. Maybe she still didn’t know how they worked, after all.

“...So,” she said aloud, mostly to herself, though in part to the compass in her hands. “Mister Ross’ compass, how do I tell him that I accept?”

Laeynna’s face pulled as she studied the contents of the missive she received and she poised a corner idly along her bottom lip in thought. She couldn’t quite remember when she’d last received one. For a period of time after she’d found herself removed from the lands she was so familiar with, her talents had been put to use with the Society. On occasion. Never really aware of what their aims might have been, she’d consider it a more pleasant way to spend some of her free time and to line her satchels with coin. Given she faced a very uncertain future with a very unstable income as she watched her life change before her eyes, it was, in fact, an opportunity.

Nerves fluttered along the deeper parts of her person, however. Ever since Zaihne had seen her back from the City of Threads, she had largely hidden herself in really only two places. Neither of which were hers and as a result, left her feeling uneasy. The nightmares had somewhat stopped. Sort of. Some nights were better than other ones. She had learnt to better keep herself composed, regardless.

In truth, she needed to get away. The red and gold was stifling. It didn’t have to be forever, but she knew that leaving for at least a few days, breathing air that was elsewhere, having space that didn’t leave her obsessing over every little detail on how she might approach the future and what she was going to do would have likely done her heart and mind a great deal of good. Not an escape. Just enough time to put her thoughts elsewhere because banging her head against the proverbial wall had done nothing beneficial. It had only upset her and chipped away at her ordinarily rather rigid and stone-like composure.

The wanting to leave part was easy. The actual action of leaving was harder. What if something happened? Eyeing her free hand and studying the palm, pensive, Laeynna wondered if it would be more worth it to consider hiring escort. Not simply for this trip, but for any others. Something to guarantee her safety. Where once she had not been concerned about travelling anywhere on her own, memories of her experiences beneath the earth changed that. Drastically. Every time she’d thought about resuming her studies, her stomach knotted up, and not even the most pleasantly warm cup of tea did anything about it.

No. An escort would be needed. How many? Not a group. Laeynna did not like travelling with groups. Too many people to keep an eye on. Too many people to be looking over her shoulder for. One could satisfy if they were capable enough. Could carry her things for her, even. The trip was a decent one in length if she took the route she cared to. But that also meant spending days with a person she likely didn’t know. What if she found she couldn’t stand them?

Laeynna’s eyebrows knit thoughtfully. I suppose I could ignore them if it came to that. It was not as though she was looking for a conversation companion. She was perfectly content to travel in silence. It would give her time to work on her own research along the way.

Freeing a quiet sigh, she carefully folded up the parchment and slowly nodded. Yes. It was a good idea. Yes, she wanted to do it. Yes, she would need to work out some of the details. And at least a couple of conversations would need to be had.

…It would be fine.

Probably.

Although Cynlan had distinctly wanted something more.

His heavy steps, only further compounded by the weight of his impressive armour, stopped by her cell, flickers of blue fire sending streaks across his face and confirming his identity. “Lady Luridveil.” His address was short. To the point. And beneath bars it was not possible for her to pass through, he bent down to slide a tray. 

It was an equally unimpressive meal. Stale bread, it looked like. Cheese, she thought she saw. Likely with a speckle of mould touching its edges. In short, a plethora of things she was going to immediately refuse. Which was precisely what she did. Laeynna rose from where she had been seated and staring into dim lighting before his arrival, and she moved only enough to abruptly kick the tray right back in his direction, listening to the echo as metal struck platewear. Fierce peridot gaze fixed on his, she sat back down.

If he was surprised, he did not seem it. Cynlan had, per her observation, always been a rather immovable man. As if nothing ever caught him unawares. Or perhaps he had spent just enough time with her to be familiar with her habits. Or her often unwavering uncompromising demeanour. Many had described her as stubborn to a fault. In fact, it had gotten around so many of their shared social circles that she had begun to embrace it. No longer a matter of opinion, just a matter of fact.

He bent again only long enough to retrieve the tray, placing it atop a table that lingered out of her reach. Turning on a heel, perhaps he’d a mind to leave, but then something must have gotten the better of him, for he turned back to her. Leaning close to the bars to look over her, he spoke, his tone a low tenor. Or perhaps a high baritone. She’d never been able to figure it out and she certainly hadn’t cared enough to understand it fully.

“Zinnvais,” he addressed her again, dropping formalities. “You have to eat. It’s been three days.”

Had it been? Certainly felt like longer in a place where she couldn’t see the sun. And given she had a lot of nothing to do in her cell, the hours dwindled on until they all became the same. Again, she said nothing to him. Instead, opting to draw her gaze aside, onto some distant corner of her cell. It was becoming a regular ritual, actually. A certain amount of time would pass. Cynlan would come stepping through the halls, his footfalls echoing between her ears. He would bring her food. She would refuse it. He would attempt conversation and she would remain silent. Her stomach had begun to ache the second meal she’d refused—or perhaps it had been the third.

Cynlan sighed, met with the same frustrating response he’d had from her since she had been escorted in. Instead of taking his leave as he had every other time, however, he reached for the chair accompaniment to the table with the tray of her food and seated himself unceremoniously. He took his time in removing his gauntlets, one at a time, leaving them with a loud clunk atop the table. Then he fished for a folded piece of parchment that he had tucked into the top of one of his greaves. 

Leaning back into the chair, he unfolded it, peering over the top to the cell and its contents—an excessively well-dressed woman in elaborate wear of fine embroidery, gaudy jewellery, and waves of silver, white, and blonde hair. “The less you speak, the more Knight-Lord Bloodhawk loses his patience. You don’t have anything to say in your defence? Anything at all. Something is better than nothing, Zinnvais. Say nothing and you just look guilty.”

She was guilty. It was much the reason she hadn’t said anything to begin with. It didn’t matter what she said. They’d found her research. They’d found her experiments. They’d found the underground dwelling that she had used where she kept all of her… materials. And that was the kinder word for what they were. Once people. And when the members of the Order located them, not… quite something else, but certainly not what they’d started out to be.

Her movements were deliberate. The way she folded one slender leg in her skirts over the other. The way she draped a willowy hand across her lap. When she studied him, it was his eyes she observed. Where they looked. Where they lingered. She’d spent enough time with him that she knew how to attract his gaze if she wanted it. “It does not matter what I say,” she began, her voice only in slight affected by lack of drink. Although she’d refused food, she’d had the good sense to take water, and when that had not been enough, she would not have admitted it with any sense of pride, but there was just enough moisture on the walls and the floor that she’d endured. “Bloodhawk has already made his decision. Keeping me here is merely a formality. I would rather see it all done and over with. Make with my execution.”

She was met with another sigh and after a long moment, Cynlan shook his head. “I have a list of names here. If you cooperate and tell me where they are, the Knight-Lord may consider some compassion.” He didn’t say what would happen if she didn’t, very likely because she already knew. With his attention fixed on the parchment in front of him, he was all Blood Knight. All law. All order. “Lord Hatin Summerlight. … Zevia Firesworn. … Sydine Goldblade of the Magistry. … Vardan Bloodfury. … And Larili Wildgleam of the Farstriders.” 

Once more, her gaze moved and she said nothing. She knew all of the names, of course. There were others he didn’t say. Others, she assumed, the Order had already located. None of them she’d had a hand in ending. Laeynna didn’t have the physical strength for combat. Besides, for what she’d used them for, she needed them to be whole and in one piece. She could not make her observations, her diagrams, with less-than-adequate specimens. She was no murderer. Merely an academic.

Somehow, it didn’t seem likely that anyone in the Order was going to buy that, despite it being the truth. There was no point in getting anyone else involved either. No one else was responsible for her research except herself. Besides, sharing the bad would have meant sharing anything good. She never had been very good at sharing.

Studying the subject further, Cynlan tossed the sheet of parchment to the table somewhat carelessly. Rising from his chair, he began to slowly pace back and forth, the only sound between them the dropping of breath and his boots on the stone, as if each step was taken so meticulously.

“Zinnvais, come on.” His frustration showed then. It wasn’t quite anger, she noticed. She was trying his patience. It wasn’t the first time he’d sounded that way in her presence. “I want to help you—”

“—Then set me free.”

Her counter had come immediately, nearly on the edge of a plea. Softer. Gentler. Intentional on her part. And she knew it had been marginally successful when she took note of the moment’s pause in his footing. To many others, the hesitance would have gone unnoticed, but she had made it nearly her life’s business to observe closely. Actions, words, even the smallest motion gave away so much about another. When it had come to concepts like influence, power, and information, every little moment’s observance could make or break a situation. And to play in a world of social dances, Laeynna had to become fluent in such languages.

“...Zinn.” 

She heard it then, a touch of apprehension to his voice. One that only encouraged her. On her feet, she approached the bars that divided them. Lifting her hands, she closed them around the cool metal, slender touch wrapped and curled as she stood face-to-face with the man who had put her there to begin with. “If you do not, Bloodhawk will see my head from my neck. We are both well aware of it. If any part of your heart cares for me, then you will have compassion. You could free me. I could leave tonight and no one would be any the wiser. It could be a secret for us both.”

And he, to her understanding, had always wanted a secret with her, the self-proclaimed royalty of secrets. Laeynna carried so many that she had to wonder if she ever spoke the truth after surrounding herself with an overabundance of falsehoods. To have even just one of them, she felt, put her in danger, if only because so many of them were linked with one another. To let him hold one, she wondered how wise it was, though even if he agreed to such an absurd request on her part, she had her own plans. She always did. The woman was always a few steps ahead.

There was another sigh he freed into the emptiness of lonely cells and distant water drops. “You know that I do.” That he cared for her. She had denied him anything more than the simplicity of her companionship on the most physical level, but each time she taunted him with the idea of something more, his interest became sharpened. But that was the thing about her. In and out she weaved herself. In conversations. In how she carried herself around others. Never staying close enough to truly be caught. Always darting off the moment another got too close.

“Then…” Laeynna began, gaze fastened upon him, her hands lifted and traced over the ties that bound her in the front of deep purples and golds. She had his attention. It was all she needed to start. Keeping it with the way musician’s fingertips loosened her gown, letting it drop over one shoulder and then the other, a plunge of the moonlight skin beneath. An enticement for his eyes. An unspoken promise of more. Hand-in-hand with agreements she had no intentions to keep. “I beg of you, Cynlan,” she continued. “...Mercy.”

She remained rooted to where she stood as he reached past the bars with a hand that had been warmed by the interior of his gauntlet. His touch began at the length of her neck, using the side of his thumb to follow an invisible trail down. It was one he had travelled before. One he had been acquainted with. One that left her tense inside. Touch had always been difficult. She didn’t like it, being touched by others. But she had endured because sometimes the only way forward was to make use of every asset she possessed. When it came to her research, her experimentation, her life, there was nothing she wouldn’t have done. It was how, after all, she had wound up in the cell to begin with. She wasn’t just a danger to everyone else. She was a danger to herself and the Order was meant to handle it, whatever that ultimately meant.

Fingertips well-acquainted tugged gently at the fabric that loosely bound her until it fell to reveal the gentle slope of her breasts. With the same touch, that same familiarity, Cynlan followed the natural curve, his gaze drawing across her simply to take her in, as if he had never done so before. From where she stood, he looked thoughtful. She did not refuse him, though many parts of her wanted to. There was so little joy in making agreements of that kind. So little joy in a means to an end. She wanted to believe it would be worth it, however. If she fled Quel’thalas, she doubted the Order was going to chase her down. But doing that meant severing many things. She had only gotten to where she was by the grace of her family.

How would she survive without them? Improvisation, she supposed. Where there was a will, what was it that others had said? There was a way.

It was only when Cynlan suddenly drew back, a heavy-weighted sigh leaving him that he pulled her from her thoughts and the meticulous planning she had going on in the space between her long, pointed ears. Laeynna watched him, wary, a wild animal trying to determine fight or flight. He regarded her again, partially naked to him, physical promise within arm’s reach, and then he stepped back one pace, thought drawn across his features and a frown in his mouth.

“I’ll speak with Maelthas on your behalf,” he began. Turning to the table and difficult for her to read, she watched him lean over and tap the parchment on the table. “But in return, you provide information. If not on them—” the names he listed off before, “—then on the whereabouts of your sister. The next time you are asked, it might not be coming from me.”

He did not wait for her response before he took to what she could only describe as a tactical retreat. Left back to her solitude, the flicker back and forth of the occasional blue flame, Laeynna found herself waiting until he disappeared from her view before she carefully pulled her gown back up. Setting back to the poor substitute for a bed, she could not help but wonder what the coming night would contain. Had she succeeded? Had she been able to appeal to a weakness on a man who often seemed as though he had none? Had it all been for nothing?