#natharai

And the last of my commissions from @jess-o , an absolutely fantastic rendition of Natharai! I am in love with the little details, especially the little vine coils. <3

The flowers also give me no small amount of joy, if only because of how different he was in the past. But during the spring and summer, he does go into bloom. 

After Natharai has dissappeared from view, Masek lays back in the grass, lacing his hands together over his torso. Overheard, the fel glow of cracked Argus washes out fainter stars, but they still number beyond counting.

Tonight had not gone at all as expected.

In truth, Masek cannot name what he had expected. Conversation. Questions, certainly, after recent events. The journey to the Dread Wastes had been singularly uncomfortable for all parties involved. Later he thought of all he could have said or done differently, to have descended into Kor'vess alone, and -

Uncomfortable as company had been, there is something unsettling about the alternative.

Tonight, then. The news of Raum's circumstances. Both his physical instability and his attempt to harm Natharai are deeply concerning. Everything Masek has seen of Raum suggests a formidable combatant, and he wonders briefly how close the attempt had come. He does not dwell on it long, however. It is an uncomfortable thought.

There are other things to consider. Preparations for the journey ahead, of course, and the not insignificant fact that Natharai has now seen his face. Had asked to see his face. It has been discussed previously, Natharai's difficulties with the Aqir and Masek's connection to them, so the request tonight had been - unanticipated. Also unanticipated: the ease with which he acquiesced to a thing that would have been altogether unthinkable not so very long ago. Idly, he reaches up to touch the top of his helmet. Somehow it always manages to surprise Masek how warm people are.

Cleaning up is always a bit of a production, but right now, it is necessary. The armor is a conspicuous, disgusting mess of bloody and congealing sludge; some of the air intakes are clogged. Masek grateful there is more than one, or it is likely the mission would have been even more of a disaster.

Privacy is key. Masek considers and discards just as quickly the notion of renting a room somewhere. He does not want to go to his residence right now, but it is the only real option, disregarding outlandish considerations like showing up on Natharai's doorstep like this. So he goes.

The basin is one he uses for chemistry, but it has been put to use this way on occasion. Standing over the cool, clear water, Masek unwraps the cloth tying the shredded armor on his right forearm in place. The replacement pieces will be completed soon and while he is grateful he wonders if tonight has incurred any more damage. He has not checked. He had been so focused on getting away, and once he'd started moving he had not stopped until arriving here.

Standing over this basin of water.

Speaking over the rune link had exactly the effect he'd predicted, and recalling that is more chilling than the air hitting his skin as he removes his helmet, moves over to his work desk to set it down. After a moment's consideration he bends over it, coaxing to life music from the slightly tinny speakers. Instead of considering the way the voice had immediately been identified as his, he considers the progression of notes.

Stripping the armored suit from his torso with it's fastenings and seals and delicate wiring is not a brief affair but it is always a strange one. Masek is not out of it often. The place where he sometimes works and sleeps is as sheltered from the elements as any home - it would be difficult to work in, otherwise - but what little movement and fluctuation in temperature that exists in the air within is still more than he generally experiences.

As Masek kneels, marring the reflective surface of the water with the gory pieces of his suit, his attention drifts inexorably back evening's events. The only response at the time had been relief he lived, but responses garnered under the press of the situation were not necessarily the same when the dust settled. Masek remembers the cautious optimism in Natharai's voice when they had discussed the company and their ambiguous knowledge of his personal peculiarities, some days before. He feels conflicted. He values Natharai's opinions on these matters, but the thought of facing the Thorns fills him only with a foreboding dread.

► Name ➔ "Masek.” ► Are you single? ➔ “... I am not, much to my surprise.” ► Are you happy? ➔ “Yes.” ► Are you angry? ➔ “No.” ► Are your parents still married? ➔ “I have not kept in touch.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “That is... a long story.” ► Hair Color ➔ “... Black, originally, though I have been bald for some time.” ► Eye Color ➔ “Ah - gold.” ► Birthday ➔ “Part of that long story, my apologies.” ► Mood ➔ “I am well, thank you.” ► Gender ➔ “Male.” ► Summer or winter? ➔ “I do not feel strongly on the topic. Summer, I suppose, if I must choose.” ► Morning or afternoon? ➔ Masek shrugs slightly.

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love? ➔ “I - ah. I suppose I am. Much to my continued surprise.” ► Do you believe in love at first sight? ➔ “I have not experienced it, but my experiences are hardly universal.” ► Who ended your last relationship? ➔ “Hah - so long as we are including relationships of a non-romantic nature, myself.” ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart? ➔  “No.” Masek’s head is quirked to one side. He sounds puzzled by the mere prospect. Perhaps the question is meant in a more literal fashion? ► Are you afraid of commitments? ➔ “That would depend on the nature of the commitment, I think.” ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Yes.” ► Have you ever had a secret admirer? ➔ “... By virtue of it being a secret admirer, by definition I could not know. It seems very unlikely, however." ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “Hm. I cannot say that I have.”

FIVE CHOICES

► Love or lust? ➔ “Not long ago I would have said neither.” ► Cats or dogs? ➔ “Both tend to make me somewhat nervous, truthfully.” ► A few best friends or many regular friends? ➔ “I have few friends.” ► Wild night out or romantic night in? ➔ “I suppose I will have the chance to find out, now.” ► Day or night? ➔ “Night.”

FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out? ➔ “Rarely. I am fairly proficient in stealth.” ► Fallen down/up the stairs? ➔ “I do no think so, no.” ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Hm. I suppose so.” ► Wanted to disappear? ➔ “I prefer to remain as invisible as possible, yes.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes? ➔ “... Both are lovely, but I must answer smile.” ► Shorter or taller? ➔ Masek shrugs. “People shorter than I are easier to find, but I do not have a preference.” ► Intelligence or attraction? ➔ “I... do not think either would be the first thing I look for.” ► Hook-up or relationship? ➔ “I cannot offer an informed preference here, but evidence thus far suggests the latter.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along? ➔ “I have not seen them in some time.” ► Would you say you have a “messed up life”? ➔ Masek laughs, soft and tinny. “I suppose that depends on who is asking.” ► Have you ever ran away from home? ➔ “Hm. After a fashion.” ► Have you ever gotten kicked out? ➔ “Not... by family.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends? ➔ “That seems counter-productive.” ► Do you consider all of your friends good friends? ➔ “I do not know. I have - friends who are willing to put themselves in danger for me, which is more than I could ever have expected.” ► Who is your best friend? ➔ “Hah. Ah - does Natharai count? Viola, as well, is a very dear friend to me.” ► Who knows everything about you? ➔ “Not even I.”

Tagged by @natharaiebonrook <3

Thunder grumbled as the courier urged her talbuk up the sopping road, hooves spattering mud and water.  The talbuk made a disgruntled noise at her urging but galloped on.  High above a sentry peered over the battlements at the figure far down the switchbacks, and called back for the stables to prepare for the talbuk’s arrival, as the gate guards mustered under the protection of the old stones of the gate.

Arkturas looked up from the missive, spotted with rain that still poured outside the window of his office. “This was direct from Stormshield?”

The gate officer nodded, standing stiffly at attention. “Orders were to disperse separate couriers to all Alliance forces on least time travels.  The storm grounded air travel over the valley, so she made the remainder of trip on talbuk back.”

Ark grunted, and rolled the parchment up. “Request that Captain Holbek join me in the my office, and then make sure the messenger and her mount are adequately tended to.  The ride must have been miserable.”

The officer saluted and strode out of the room.  Moments later, the sound of a crisp knock came from the door.

“Enter,” Arkturas called, pulling out a bundle of supply paperwork.

The human captain entered, drawing himself to a comfortable position of attention. “You called for me, sir?”

Instead of answering, Arkturas tossed him the message, returning his attention to gathering more papers from their files.

“The Legion,” Holbek breathed. “They’re attacking again.”

“Aye, and we will be there to stop them,” Arkturas growled. “How long to quit the fort?”

Holbek blinked. “A week, I should think.  Getting passage sorted out back to Azeroth will take at least that long, and…”

“I’ll take care of that,” Arkturas said, waving a hand.  “Get the quartermasters together with the company commanders.  You have three days.”

*   *   *

Despite the near panic the deadline had caused the officers, three days later the grounds of the fort were a barely ordered commotion as wagon and after wagon was filled to capacity. Arkturas was filled with quiet pleasure and satisfaction as he listened to the orderly movement of his forces, overlaid with good-natured banter amongst personal friends that had gathered to see them off. He knew he’d hold the memory of this evening as a shield against the trials ahead, but even that thought couldn’t darken the happy moment.

Keialaar turned to him, Cherynaa held on a hip with, her brow furrowed with sudden irritation. “Can you take her?  I need to get my bag.”

He reached out to take the excited girl, tossing her up into the air to her wild giggles, before settling her on a shoulder.  “Certainly.  Go on.”

The mage opening the portal stood back as the glowing ball finally shimmered into being, swiping a sleeve over his glistening brow.  Ark settled Cherynaa more securely on his shoulder, turning to the still happily bickering group to start them moving.  “Vandrysse, Lietta, after you.”

As Keialaar trotted up with her satchel, his guests began stepping into the personal portal to take them to Ironforge. Giving his wife a smile, Arkturas took his place in the queue. Moments later he placed a hand on the surprisingly solid edge of the portal, waiting for the familiar sensation...

Something is wrong.

Normally, the transition of teleportation was little worse than the abrupt sensation of falling as one started to drift to sleep.  This time, the sensation grew, and he felt as though every part of him was being pulled from the other.  Silently, he howled as the agony grew, overwhelming him.

And then it was over, as suddenly as it began.  He cracked open his eyes and saw nothing.  And infinite, swirling blackness of the Twisting Nether surrounded him.

Dimly, he could feel his body gasping for air, though his pain addled mind couldn’t quite grasp what was wrong.

Then Cherynaa, writhing and clutching at her throat, drifted into his vision, and the cold winds of terror swept the confusion from his head.  Twisting, he snatched his daughter close, drawing together his will, and bending it upon his surroundings.

Air, air, airairairairairAirAIRAIRAIR!

The sudden rush of air thumped against his eardrums painfully, and he could finally hear the twin choking gasps as he and Cherynaa dragged in precious oxygen.  Moments passed as they regained their breath, Ark barely able to restrain himself from crushing Cherynaa against him, the surge of fear of losing her only slowly dying.

“Daddy?” Cherynaa whimpered, fists curled in the fabric of his tabard as she shook in the shelter of his arms. “Where are we?”

“Just a little lost,” he said calmly, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of her head, burying his own emotions for her sake.   “We’ll be out soon.”

“I wanna go home!  I want Keia,” she said tremulously, tears staining the cloth over his chest as she buried her face against him.

Murmuring wordlessly, he stroked her back, mind racing as he poured over the unpalatable options.

Rescue, unlikely.  Air will only last so long as concentration is maintained.  Days, and not many of them, before sleep inevitable.  Hearthstone.  Would it connect?  More worryingly, would it draw attention?

He pulled out the rune inscribed stone from his belt, eyeing it.  He’d never tried using it outside the confines of the material world before, but then, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

With a grimace, he thumbed the activation rune.  Thankfully the Nether was brimming with arcane power, and the runes lit with a cheery glow as it gathered power. But even as hope rose in him, his nose caught the whiff of brimstone, and a familiar sickly green glow gathered around him like phantom claws.

He had but a moment to feel the helpless rage of a father as the trap reached out to enclose them, before the magic snapped tight like a fist, and darkness descended.

Jax walked out of the bank, trying to suppress his grin. He hadn’t had this much gold in ages. And he couldn’t be happier about what he was about to do with it.

He immediately headed to his favorite jewel crafting supplier, and eagerly purchased a few tools he’d had his eye on, along with some raw materials, buffing cloths...And neat looking rock.

His new supplies acquired, he happily headed off to his second destination.

A tired, miserable looking woman sat behind a counter. She glanced up as the death knight entered, then did a double take, growing slightly alarmed. Until Jaxith plopped the heavy bag of coins down on the counter with a broad grin.

“I would like to make a donation.”

The woman’s eyes grew large as she sat up to examine the bag. She opened it cautiously, peering inside. “Sir! Thank you! This will take a bit to count, would you like a receipt?”

Jax blinked at her. “Receipt?”

“You know. For your taxes?”

The death knight stared at her a while longer, pondering her question. He hadn’t paid taxes... Ever. He had no idea what a tax receipt would possibly be used for. But he smiled anyway. “Oh, sure, y-you can send it to my address, d-does that work?”

“Of course! Just fill out this form.”

Jax smiled, taking the pen and paper from the woman. He was doing a good thing today.

A few days later a cute little parchment envelope with little ink dog prints on it arrives in Natharai’s mailbox.

Dear Mr. Ebonrook.

We at The Azeroth Animal Shelter would like to give you our sincerest thanks for your generous donation of $1800 gold pieces. In these times of turmoil and strife, sometimes it’s the smallest, and most helpless among us who fall through the cracks. This money will go to food and housing for countless animals injured or abandoned by their owners, as well as helping to save abused and neglected battle pets.

Enclosed is your receipt, which you may use for your tax records.

Sincerely,

The Azeroth Animal Shelter

Dear Natharai,

I was unaware you were still upset about the zombie crab incident, and then realized I was short sighted and forgot to properly thank you for your assistance in the matter. In my continued effort to try and be ‘a good person’ I want to extend my formal thanks. While Floyd Jr turned out to be harmless in the end (that is the crab’s name, I’m unsure I ever mentioned that) your help was greatly appreciated. There are few people we would turn to in an attempt to track down accidentally created undead horrors. Though he’s turned into quite the friendly horror, you should meet him some time. 

Regardless, thank you again. Hopefully these will at least partially make up for the evening’s murloc viscera and general shenanigans. They’re an old recipe and one of my personal favorites. Though the main ingredient is spider, not crab, trust me, they’re great. And don’t worry, I didn’t make them, I wouldn’t do that to you. Besides, Dorien is an excellent cook.

~Procrastin Havaleth

Once the package is opened it reveals about a dozen nice, pump, delicious looking "crab”cakes carefully wrapped in more parchment. And, shockingly...nothing bad happens. However, after the crab cakes are removed, the careful ear could catch a faint ticking...

A good thirty seconds after the crab cakes are safely removed, the fake bottom of the package emits a sad “Phhffwweee” noise, and glitter erupts out. In the debris that remains within the package is a small card. Signed simply,

Regards ~Dorien