#lxrdofmagic

BROTHER // always accepting.

Oh, how she understands him — so much so that simple agreement seems to little, for she feels it herself, jaded from world’s endless tragedies, scarred from all they have endured. There is no blessing in their burden, she had come to think long ago; no power in the universe would ever compensate that which they suffered, carrying the weight of the world upon their shoulders. Each in their own way, they had both faltered under it. Perhaps she should avoid it happening again, give him support now that it all seemed once again so impossibly heavy… but Alexstrasza felt it too. 

It was difficult not to crumble under that weight.

Not simply because their kind was at its twilight. It was that she was tired, too, tired of fighting time and again only for battles to recommence anew, tired of solving a conflict for another to arise, tired of never-ending duty, of caring for a world permanently in danger, of overcoming overwhelming odds only to have hope destroyed when bigger yet threat showed its colors afterwards. They had faithfully protected Azeroth for millennia — for even Malygos, lost in madness as he had been for a time, had dedicated countless years to be the world’s protector before betrayal robbed him of everything. They deserved rest, she thought; and though she hoped it would have been the rest of one whose duty had been fulfilled, now she knew they were never meant to have this. Which of them had received deserved rest? None. Neltharion fell to madness, Nozdormu would one day fall against his duty, Ysera corrupted by the antithesis of the Dream she devoted so much to. Their endings were always bitter. If she had hopes for her children, if she hoped for her brother, Alexstrasza was unable to hold on to it as more than wishful thinking on her part. 

Tiredness is in her gaze, in melancholia painting her gestures as the Life-Binder’s head comes to rest on top of her paws. Golden eyes look at him as he speaks, but gaze is lowered afterwards. “Can you ever forgive me, brother?I fear I have sentenced you to mine own same fate —— insisting on fulfilling duties impossible to fulfill, even as we watch it all be rendered meaningless as our powers dwindle and threats even stronger than those we struggled to defeat continue to arise.”

A GRUMPY DRAGON // always accepting.

“Forgive me if I offend your sensibilities with my elvishness.”

lxrdofmagic: “Indeed, elves. All ganging up on...

“I RECALL A CERTAIN ELF WHO CRACKED THE CONTINENT IN PIECES”

  Queen Azshara, if you wanted to pick a mate, or a...

loud eye rolling from malygos

IC ASKS! // always accepting.

“Vile? You wound me, Spell-Weaver.” Overly dramatic tone denounces her feigned hurt; ancient creature he may be, so called Lord of Magic, but she cares not what he makes of her (not unless there is something to be won, which she gauges there might; he takes interest in her, not without reason, but he is powerful in his own right, unwilling as she may be to admit). There are greater beings, yet renouncing completely to a chance to have the leader of the blue dragonflight wrapped around her finger seems foolish an idea. Would it be worth the trouble? He would not be simple to win over, blatant disliking for her as he made sure to display. Having the very Aspect of Magic was such a tempting notion, however…

Expression dissolves in a self-satisfied smile. If she is to win him over, she still would not do it with submission. He is no god for her to serve, not even as queen. Did he truly think to walk to her with offenses and demand what her plans were? Not even were he a friend (Was there even such thing, friends? So few came even close to her greatness…) would she have been so trusting. As is, she has no intention to divulge plans at all. “And as you have wounded me, I find myself disinclined to entertain you with my plans.”

CURRENTLY ACCEPTING ALL MEMES.

“I do not expect you to be.” Life-Binder’s gaze, earnest, tries to convene the extent of this truth, head slightly tilted to the side. There is much in his past actions that ought to weigh heavily on his heart, actions too terrible not to; there is even more that drove him to insanity in the first place, tragedy immeasurable, impossible to simply set aside and overcome, to shrug it off as one would a minor inconvenience. It wasn’t something as light as sour humor or a bad day; it had been years of drifting away from those closest to him, isolation and resent feeding malice and paranoia, each loss twisting the knife further. 

Out of all the others, Alexstrasza knew Neltharion’s loss by itself would have been harshest on Malygos, other than herself; and that was even if the loss of a cherished friend had been all there was to it. ‘Twas not. His betrayal and treachery had cost Malygos even more than the other Aspects, damaging the blue dragonflight extensively, most of them dead within a second. How was one to be what he had been, after suffering betrayal at hand of a trusted friend, after losing most of his kin? No, even had insanity never laid claim to his mind at all, he would have been undoubtedly changed. They all were. None could afford to be what they had been before, when they had been five and impossibly close, when their presence in the world was still new and powers all untainted. She never held any delusions he would be just the same, even when he heeded her pleas and let go of his destructive path; such expectations would have been bound to be met only with disappointment.

The red wyrm curled up at his side, nudging him in sisterly affection; as long as he needed company, the Dragon Queen would make time to stay. He would not be left alone again, to struggle with his hurt by himself; she had promised to stand with him, no matter what, and she would hold true to her word. Whatever he had done, whatever he had become, Alexstrasza knew he wasn’t wholly changed; that what had made them friends, once, and led him to become her brother in all but blood, was still within him, in his very nature. He was not the same, but neither was she, bruised by her own tragedies, scarred by own failures. “There is something every red dragon knows, Malygos, for it comes well tied to our charges,” Gentle gaze looks up to him at her side, all softspoken in words that are honest even beyond their intention to comfort. “and it is that change is inherent to life. Nothing stays the same. The world changes, creatures change, we ourselves change — nothing remains the same forever, and there is nothing wrong with it. All we must do is strive to change for better… and right now, I know this to be what you seek to do.”

  "Hrmph. Elves."

Imagining them side eyeing the other two makes this so much funnier

aisduahisdfhiuh it was their reaction

IN CHARACTER ASKS // always accepting.

She felt it too; more than a terrible sense of dread, there was actual change in the world itself, something stirring from a long slumber. Something wrong. Alexstrasza can feel it, even without Aspect powers; the darkness that creeps in the atmosphere, looming distant still, but steadily approaching. Is this why it is suddenly so difficult to breath, as if air had been squeezed from her lungs, as if her heart was overwhelmed by fear and regret and sorrow?

Unlikely. Those are all because she is aware of what it truly means, in spite of denial. It can’t be. Panic makes her thoughts hurried, desperate. They would not. They couldn’t. She had to be wrong, had to; Azeroth would not stand it being otherwise. The dragons hadn’t the power to protect it anymore… and if they had, would it have been enough? 

Instead of moving as erratically as her thoughts, the red dragon became very still; as if the lack of movement would not disturb the dark force further, as if it all might turn real the moment she did as much as breathing. Alexstrasza acknowledges Malygos’ words only absentmindedly; they have done something terrible indeed, terrible and stupid and impossible to fix. 

She had placed so much faith in the younger races, left so much in the mortals’ hands… she had trusted them and convinced the other to the same, and aided them when they sought her, and none of it mattered now. They had failed — worse even, they had unchained ancient evil themselves. Seeing their effort against the Legion, so shortly before, she had held tremendous hope her decisions had been wise; the mortals had fought and succeeded in protecting Azeroth, in spite of losses happening. Now, she couldn’t help but regret.

“It can’t be.” Affirmation as it is, it sounds hollow. Alexstrasza knows the truth of it, knows that Malygos is just as aware. She wants to laugh, not gentle, warm laughter, but bitter and harsh and painful; perhaps they should have let Deathwing destroy the world after all, or perhaps she should have let Malygos destroy the mortals. Azeroth would have been safer, or it would have ceased existing altogether. In that moment, Alexstrasza knew not what would have been best. 

So much effort and loss and sacrifice, and for what?