#mikania

When I had to let go of a very close friendship last year, I had a really hard time keeping up my enjoyment and desire to RP my draenei; so much was wrapped up in that friendship.  We plotted together, we discussed stuff OOCly, our characters were close ICly... it was literally like having all the wind removed from my sails and I’ve been sitting in the calm ever since.

In our discussions, Ark suggested that maybe it was time to look at the characters and rethink some of the history I had done for them.  Neither of us are big fans of retcons- it can easily get to the point where story development is meaningless because there’s no sense of permanence.

But at the same time, my sense of direction and purpose has been gone for over a year, and it’s entirely possible that rewriting things a bit can rejuvenate my enjoyment and desire to play these characters and write for them again.

I doubt I will go into much detail on Tumblr; the changes won’t impact anyone but myself, Ark and one other, and I’d rather discuss them out of the public eye.

Consciousness returned slowly, dark veils slowly lifting from her mind.  Mikania feigned sleep as she roused, listening carefully, delving into her memories to try and recall what had happened.   The vision of her daughter's face, nails lengthening into cruel claws swam before her mind’s eye, and she barely restrained herself from twitching.

My own daughter, she thought despondently.  She had long since grown used to denying tears, but in that dark, quiet moment, it was hard to dam them up once more.  I turned from the Light for you, and you cast me aside.  And I love you, even now, I…

The gentle whisper of a page flipping sent a frisson of alarm up her spine.  She hadn’t felt the presence of any others nearby.  Carefully she cracked open an eye, peering through her lashes, an icy fist of fear clenching her stomach as she saw who else was in the room.

The Harbinger, Arkturas, sat on a simple wooden chair at the foot of the bed, leafing through a large book, seemingly oblivious of his guest.  She had known he was an intelligent man, but she hadn’t expected him to put all the scattered pieces together so quickly.  Somehow, he had trailed her to the shrine, and prevented Sakena from finishing her off; she desperately wished the fog over her memory would lift, but she was familiar enough with trauma to know that holes such as the one she experienced were common.

Regardless, she could not stay here.   She gathered her mind, focusing her will, pouring fear and intent and a mother’s devotion into a weapon.  Her strike would have to be swift, to incapacitate... or kill in the first breath.  There would be no other chances.  Then she could escape and resume her life’s work; destroy the Legion from within and reclaim her daughter’s life.

Another page flipped and she struck; a slender spike of energy lancing towards the large Draenei.  She felt it slip past his mental defences and a surge of triumph welled up in her chest as she pressed harder;  Finish him!  When her attack slammed to a halt, she gaped.  She was one of the strongest mentalists left living, and nothing she had seen of the big Harbinger indicated he had any skills in that arena.  But as she watched, the carefully honed magic of her assault shattered like glass under a hammer, and before she could regroup, she felt herself grasped, like a kitten held by the scruff.  

A chill presence slid into her mind, hard and unyielding like a lonely mountaintop, reaching into the vault of her memories as though he belonged there; as if it were his right.  Desperately she drew her defences together, the unaccustomed feeling of naked vulnerability making her clumsy;  shame and fear quivering in her belly as she felt that implacable force test them.  Dimly, his amusement echoed in the vaults of her mind, and then with speed equal to her attack, she felt herself cast back out and into her body.

She jerked, a dull headache pounding behind her temples as she recoiled on the bed, pulling herself up against the headboard.   He is far more dangerous than they thought.  Oh gods what have I done?

Arkturas simply flipped another page. “Ah, I see you are awake.  I trust you slept well?”

Mikania drew herself up. Her only hope was to stick to her story.  “By what right do you detain an Anchorite of Karabor?” She demanded, proud of how her voice did not quaver.

He looked up from his book and pursed his lips. “That is, admittedly, something of an uncertain situation, since technically speaking, I do not have standing with this version of Karabor.  I am given to understand that my order perished long ago in this timeline.  But I feel that I am right to apply Sword Law here. Mikania.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the mention of the Sword of Argus.  He was correct, the order had been eradicated, long before coming to Draenor; but the name- and the authority it represented- still held a great deal of weight.  Her masters - her mouth tightened at the thought - had celebrated when the last member of the Sword had fallen to their talons… she had had no idea that Arkturas was a member of that vaunted order.

She was so wrapped up in thoughts of the Sword that it took a few moments for her to realize which name he used; her fear turning into terror.  What else did he glean from my mind before I was able to shut him out?

“My name is Melis,” she said, voice trembling, her knuckles tightening until they whitened on the blanket. “Once the temple learns of what you have done here, they…!”

“Will do nothing,” he said, cutting over her implacably.  “No one in the temple knows you are here, Mikania.  And even if they were to find out, what would they care for a broken tool discarded by her Sargerei masters?”

He set the book aside, rising to his hooves.  At his full height, he towered over the bed; an intimidating man under normal circumstances.  In her current position, he was terrifying.  “You attempted to take from me what is mine, Mikania,” he rumbled, eyes flaring.  “How many of our people have you stolen, in service to the Man’ari?  How many lives have you destroyed?  You will tell me what I wish to know, and you will tell me now.”

Terror and rage wrestled in her chest, and she snarled, reaching for the Shadows to strike out. He knows nothing of loss!  He has no idea what I have done!  The prices I have paid!

But as she called, his eyes blazed with renewed fury, and she cried out as a choking tide of anguish rose in her.  She could see the faces around her;  people she had known, people she had killed.  She heard their pleas, their cries for mercy, reliving their last moments with gut-wrenching clarity.  No!  Oh gods please NO!  I had NO CHOICE!

She had no idea how long the attack lasted; it felt like hours.  When she came to herself, she was exhausted; her throat felt raw from screaming, her palms stung where her fingernails had dug into them, and her eyes felt swollen and scratchy from sobs.   

The Harbinger’s voice rang with iron finality above her. “Your resistance will find no success here.  There is only repentance.  I will return once you have had a chance to recover, and we will speak further.”

The sound of his hooves moved to the door, and as it opened, he paused. “Your anguish was great indeed, Mikania.  It may be that salvation is not beyond you yet.  Consider it.”

Her only response was was silence, and after a moment, the door shut behind him.  She tried to steady her breathing, but after long, battling moments, she surrendered to the tears, weeping for her loss.  I have failed her.  Sakena, my darling girl.

 "You're sure you'll be all right out here alone?"  Her escort looked around, rubbing the back of his head.  The shrine didn't have much to offer by way of amenities, and the calling the accommodations 'primitive' was quite charitable.   The young Peacekeeper had spent enough time around Karabor to know that most of the temple's denizens preferred their comforts.  "It's most of a day's ride down into Elodor.  I could stick around, if you need..."

Melis smiled, shaking her head.  "Everything I require is here."  She swung out of her saddle, stifling a groan as her hooves struck the paving stones.  "I can send down to the Sha'tori if I need anything."    You cannot help with my troubles, young man.  All that awaits you here is death.

The young Peacekeeper hesitated, glancing around again, taking in the stillness of the mountain glade.  Everyone was short-handed.  Anchorites were being sent all over Draenor for purposes ranging from cleansing demon-corruption to the more mundane administrative duties in remote settlements; and there weren't enough Peacekeepers left to watch over them. 

"Arrangements have been made in Elodor for my departure,"  Melis murmured, leading her talbuk into the tiny corral set aside for the shrine's use.   "I will spend a day or two in the village, then join a caravan to Embaari."  She glanced back at him as she unsaddled her mount, hiding her satisfaction as she felt his misgivings slide.  It's a quiet area.  There have been no reports of demonic activity around Elodor since the beginning of the fighting.  The village isn't far, and you have a long ride back to Karabor.  You would rather spend it in a comfortable tavern with a pretty girl and a bottle than up here with a chilly priestess old enough to be your grandmother.  With the ease of millennia of practice, the thought was inserted so smoothly he had no idea it wasn't his own.  

"Well, I guess if there's nothing else you need, I'll get going,"  The young man murmured a word to his elekk, scrambling up into his saddle and gathering up his reins.  "Lightspeed, Anchorite."

"Arkanon poros, Peacekeeper."  The words were lost as soon as she spoke them, whisked away by the mountain breeze.   She watched him lumber down the road, swaying with the ponderous gait of the elekk, struck by the sudden wish that she was going with him.  With a sigh, she hefted her gear in her arms and ducked into the small hut that served as a hostel for visitors to the shrine.  Her mouth twisted; she didn't want to be here.  If she had been given a choice, she would have gone to Auchindoun to finish things, then vanished through one of the portals to this other world, this Azeroth.   But she had her orders, and the mask she wore for Karabor had to be maintained.  For a little longer.

 I should have tried harder to get to the Harbinger.  They will be angry at my choice of target, but--  She shuddered, remembering Arkturas's piercing stare.  Her attempts to fog his mind had been about as effective as tying loose ribbons together in a high wind.  She had given up after several abortive attempts, afraid he would become aware of what she was doing.   The Rangari bitch was the best choice of the ones available.  Veriinya had strong ties to Karabor, making her the most logical secondary target.   They cannot take her from me again. Now she's away, and I can find her once this is over... tell her the truth.   They'll have to settle for Seriol's bastard.

 She began unpacking her saddlebags, setting her misgivings and fears aside.  Time had run out; there were preparations to be made, she would need to be ready.

  "Anchorite Melis?"  Peacekeeper Commander Ishnia blinked at her communication unit, surprise coloring her voice.  "I'm sure you can understand, Harbinger, that current circumstances make it difficult to accommodate requests for specific Anchorites."  

 "She was treating my sister-in-law for trauma,"  Arkturas forced himself to sit back in his chair, to keep his voice even and casual; difficult when he wanted to reach through the communicator and throttle the woman on the other end, to make her understand the urgency of his request.  "Veriinya responded well, but has suffered some relapse; we have concerns about her mental state, and we'd prefer to work with Anchorite Melis, as she's familiar with the case."   

 Veriinya.  Ishnia's eyes flicked to her desk, thinking of the portrait hidden deep in the drawer.  "One moment, Harbinger."  She reached for her data tablet, fingers dancing across the surface.  There it was - a call for... Good Gods, Veri... what did you do to yourself?  She read the scant details quickly; severe trauma and acute depression.  Acidic guilt roiled in her stomach.  Would you have done this, if I hadn't sent you away from Karabor?    Her fingers tapped a few more keys, but she couldn't access Melis's treatment notes - not surprising, as she had no reason to need them.  A press of her thumb closed the record and opened a new one, pulling up the assignment roster.  "I'm afraid Melis not at Karabor, Commander.  Since the fighting died down, the Council thought it would be a good time to resume the circuit.  Melis was one of the Anchorites that was assigned a district; I have way of knowing her precise location, just that she will be ministering to some of the remote settlements in the north of Shadowmoon."  Her fingers tapped at the keys.    "There are a couple of shrines that haven't been tended since before the fighting began; it would make sense that she'd use those as a hub and travel out from there.  I'd be happy to send a message with the next dispatch package to Elodor?"

 "That would be greatly appreciated, Commander,"  Arkturas sighed, shoulders tightening.  "Thank you."

 The call disconnected without further pleasantries, and the big Harbinger got to his hooves, his eyes turning to the map of the valley hanging on the wall.  Eight weeks since his wife had vanished without a trace.  Three days since they had discovered the spell embedded in his garrison... and defeated its guardian.  Melis was involved.  He was betting Keia's life on it.  Resolve welled up within him, cold and hard; he would find Melis.  And she would tell him where Keialaar had gone.

 "Andren,"   His finger pressed the comm with deliberate precision.  "I need a map the locations of all of the shrines Karabor maintains around Elodor."  He paused, his tail lashing with slow deliberation,  "Notify the others.  We ride at first light."

It was late in the evening when they arrived.  The hair on the back of her neck prickled, as it always did when an Arcanist did a working.   Hooves scraped against stone, and she could hear the rustle of clothing as they stepped into the hut.  She knelt with her back to the door, imagining them taking in the scene;  stone walls and floor, a pallet stuffed with straw.  An older woman kneeling before the tiny altar, saying her prayers before she slept.  Incense curled through the air, the spicy scent of walnut and cedar filled her nostrils, the spells she had prepared ready for use.   I am ready for you.

"You've disappointed us, Mikania,"  The familiar voice was gently chiding, like a teacher scolding a favorite pupil.  Melis flinched.  Oh gods, they sent him.  That means...  Slowly she turned to face her visitors, the color draining away from her face as she saw who was there to hold her to account.  The man she had once thought she loved more than anything, and beside him...

"Hello, Mother."   A young woman stood beside Melis's old lover, shaking her head to toss long silver hair down her back.  The resemblance was strong; Seriol's hair and eyes, Melis's delicate brows and strong jaw.   The unpleasant smile curving her lips was all her own, and Melis felt the first thrill of fear trickle down her spine.  

"Sakena," She rose to her hooves, struggling to keep her expression neutral.  It all came back to Toraliir and Sakena.  They were where it had begun, it seemed appropriate they were where it would end.

"I'm afraid it's time we parted ways; you had a task, and you knew the price of failure."  Sakena extended a hand, her nails elongating into claws.  "I admit, Mother, I've really been looking forward to this."

Melis took a step back, grief making a knot in her throat.  Everything I did, I did for you.  She had known someone would come.  She had known that she might not survive the night.  But that her killer would be her own child... hatred for them, for what they had forced her to become, surged through her blood.   Shadows began gathering around her hands, her eyes flicking to Toraliir.  "I have, too."  If I die tonight, you come with me, you lying bastard!

Most of my characters share my love of the water and the wild places of the world to one extent or another.    

Veriinya loves the ocean.  She prefers rocky windswept beaches to sandy sunny ones because they feel more private, more personal.  She can feel alone with the wind and the surf, and breathe deep of the salt-laden air and rejuvenate her soul… without feeling like she’s sharing the moment with a gaggle of loud sunbathers.  

She doesn’t feel the same connection with lakes and rivers; she likes them, she finds water of any sort a peaceful, pleasant place to be, but there’s no jolt of recognition of a Significant Place near smaller bodies of water.   The exception being mountain lakes; perhaps the isolation combined with the rockiness echoes the ocean for her, I’m not sure.    (My personal favorite beaches are found up on Puget Sound and along the coastline in Maine.  Going to Lake Tahoe is on my personal bucket list.)

Keialaar is the opposite.  Secret pools hidden in forest glades, wild rivers and craggy mountains call to her.   The more remote and isolated the place, the more rejuvenated she feels.  The sense of ‘No one else has walked here’ is a feeling she cherishes, and in times of stress or upset, she takes to the forests.   The trees are comfortable companions that ask nothing of her; they simply exist.  I suspect she finds that non demanding presence soothing; their longevity doesn’t hurt either.

Since she first arrived on Azeroth, Keia’s had a special affinity for the Kaldorei.  She respects and admires their druidic traditions, and spent a few years training with the Sentinels.  (The Kaldorei are the only race other than Draenei she considers suitable for romantic partnership.)

The ocean is too vast and unfathomable for Keialaar.  She gets pretty awful motion sickness on ships, and finds the superstitions of sailors unsettling, where Veriinya finds them similar to the closely held (and equally ridiculous) beliefs of soldiers.  

Mikania enjoys water features, but prefers them in a more… structured and civilized way.  She enjoys decorative ponds with well-behaved water fowl, cultivated grottos and elaborate fountains.  She believes that nature should be groomed into pleasingly convenient configurations, and prefers to pretend that it exists no other way.  

She is definitely a woman that believes service workers – cooks, chambermaids, gardeners and the like – should be visible only in the end product of their work.   Gardens should be flawless, her clothing should be free of stains, loose threads and lint, and her meals should be on time, delicious and innovative without being too exciting.

She has a reputation around Karabor as an Anchorite that is a bit too posh for her station, and woe to the acolyte that has bedchamber duties if her bath is not the correct temperature!     (All acolytes serve in the service positions for the temple as part of their training on a rotational basis.)

Seriol likes placid waterways and lakes.  He enjoys sitting in the sun and feeding the ducks, watching families out on picnics, and playing chess.  He likes small watercraft; he’s big on water being the focal point for social and family bonding.

He’s a gentle man, and will move heaven and earth for the happiness and wellbeing of women and children.   He’s a man for lazy days spent fishing (and not catching anything) just to hear a child’s laughter.  He’s the one teaching the little ones how to swim, soothing their fears and holding on until they’re ready to splash and play on their own.

Not fulfilling one’s promises.

“PAPA!”  The little girl shrieked with delight as the tall soulpriest swung her up into his arms, whirling her around before planting a hearty smack of a kiss on a freckled cheek splattered with kindiin-berry jam. 

“Sakena, my delight!  How is my favorite girl?”  Seriol hefted his daughter up in his arms, smiling at his heavily pregnant wife. 

“Someone is up past her bedtime.”  Mikania knuckled the small of her back, disapproval flickering over her face. 

“Just a little longer, Mama?”  Sakena twisted around to peer at her mother, one of her little ponytails drooping; evidence, if they needed it, of a hard day’s play. 

“Ahhh sweetling, Papa is going to have to get back to work.”  With regret, Seriol lowered the little girl to her hooves.

“Already?  It is so late.”  Mikania’s eyes were sharp, ignoring Sakena’s cries of disappointment.  “You promised you would take some time.”

“There was an accident, three days past.”  Seriol was quiet, lowering his head against her glare.  “Fourteen people died, Mika.  Their families have need.”

“Your family has need,” Mikania hissed, reaching for her daughter’s hand.  “Or have you forgotten, in your haste to help everyone else?”

“I’ll be home before the first bell.”  He leaned forward and went to kiss her, only to get her hair as she turned her head.   He sighed when his wife gathered up their daughter and left, slamming the door to his office behind her.   “I promise.”

Fifteen hours later, he closed the door behind his last appointment; ten adults and four children had been killed in a decompression accident before the engineering crew could seal the breach, and all of the soulpriests not in stasis had stepped in to ensure the families were cared for. 

His earlier promise forgotten, he settled back into his chair, pouring himself a drink and rubbing the back of his neck.  Best to get my notes dictated while they’re fresh...

Overly charming, handsome men.  They always disappoint, and never fulfill their promises. 

She has perhaps a pathological hatred of them at this point.