#nyllae

Who knew that doing simple things would have been a task? Walking, sitting, bathing, even just trying to gain a few hours of sleep at a time? But Nyllae adjusted as much as Razilee had been and even Amorthon on most days. It was like the pair had eventually fallen into this unspoken juggle of tasks and sleeping between Razilee’s naps and each other; or rather as much sleep as Amorthon’s head had allowed himself.

The surrealist part -- being a mother.

The pair had just begun migrating back into their usual routine and the morning’s task had been to tend to her herbs while Amorthon had been out for his hunt. Of course he would leave Cibor behind to ensure their safety and even Nyllae had grown tired of trying to assure him that all would be well. In truth, it might have just been a bit of homesickness sinking in with Razilee now in the picture. Who could blame him with a new baby in the house?

After the morning post about current goings on in the city and other Horde capitals, Nyllae had taken a brief moment of relaxation, book in one hand and other smoothing over each small, warm baby toes that belonged to her daughter that rested in the bassinet beside her. Razilee so far had been a quiet baby, always curious and aware of her surroundings between her little bouts of sleeping which could only keep Amorthon and Nyllae hopeful that the temperament would continue.

It was as if though she was a tiny drunk Sin’dorei coupled with narcolepsy. She slept while feeding, bathing, play time and even while soiling herself.

Such was the life of a baby.

Suddenly, the thought of a cozy nap with the baby was far more inviting than the content within a book. Closing the book within her hand, Nyllae rolled over in towards her daughter and hung an arm up along the pillows, a comfort filling her heart she had been fortunate enough to experience twice in her life.

A small nap, even for 5 minutes -- yeah, she was okay with that.

For over a year she had been tempered. Everything that she was and thought she knew had come to a slow close and within herself happened to bloom a new being as Nyllae had come to find herself with different perspectives and a more natural course to her life. Never in a million years had she thought herself to be here, in the middle of the woods, a cabin for a home, someone to call her companion, pets -- though more times than not they were like children -- and she was genuinely happy.

She thought for sure that her life would have ended up differently than it had been now but she wasn’t complaining. What was once lavish and noble meetings, countless hours within the Tirisgarde Halls as work was her only hobby and comfort, and having a mass fortune within her lap had -- for the better -- turned into a simple life completely reliant on healing from the world around her. She didn’t need family when all she needed was all around her. This is what she and Amorthon needed.

Even during days such as this when at sunrise she made Amorthon morning breakfast and helped to get ready for the day only to later sit along the porch watching him work. As promised she was the supervisor simply admiring him as he went to work building the garden he had promised her. A garden that would keep her busy and be a large hand in what would, eventually, make her alchemy hut sustainable and to prosper. She could begin growing their own food for the house without having to make so many trips into the city that they both had come to despise over time. He liked the outdoors -- thrived in it entirely -- and she was becoming to enjoy the solace it brought as well, a complete shift in what she had been used to with city life.

Battlefields were also eons away, it felt like.

Drinking from her cup, she watched on with Savage at her feet lounged at his leisure as he too had been taking in the quiet of the woods. Every once in a while hearing the knocking of wood being chopped or the echo of a hammer and scraping of Amorthon sanding, hard at work.

“So should I tell him or you?” Nyllae rose a brow as she gave a pointed look down to Savage. Of course she was met with much of the same expression if one could garner such from animals. The Mage was no master at speaking to animals or knowing about them but over the course of a year and a half she had certainly come to know Cibor and Savage’s quirks.

The tiger grunted at her with amusement and offered a prolonged yawn before getting to his feet and eventually plunking on his arse beside the Mage’s leg which caused her to chuckle ever so lowly and put her cup down.

“Okay. This is what you’ll do…” and her words clipped.

The thudding of the wood continued which certainly made it known that Amorthon had continued his work even though Nyllae had crouched down to Savage’s level behind the railing. Reaching into the pouch of her knitted sweater Nyllae pulled out a set of strings that were knotted carefully to one another and held it out to Savage who took up the item with care by the front of his teeth. With heavy footfalls Savage turned and made his way down the porch and towards Amorthon in the near distance -- it certainly looked as if though he was taking his time bringing it to his Ranger companion.

With her hand over her brow to shield her eyes from the still-rising sun, Nyllae’s other hand made it to her hip to watch everything unfold. Nearby, Cibor had stopped grooming himself long enough to perk up when noticing Savage was on the move and out of sheer instinct, he padded along with a bounce in his step, a dumb excitement of wonder with the headbutt he delivered to the older cat during his course.

Three….

Two…

One.

I wanted to compare the two and show their personalities and the backgrounds that they come from but in the end, they come together realizing each other’s joys, work ethics and their home. Just give me any reason to put a cute tiger in anywhere and I’m happy!

First Mate

Guilty Conscious 

Learning to Track Pt.1

Learning to Track Pt.2

Learning to Track Pt.3

Full Circle

24 Hours

Of Questions and Bows

Empty Spaces

While You were Out

Diluted

In Order

Walk in the Woods

Of Missing Things

Of Suspicion and Frustration 

Of Confirmed Suspicions

Savage’s Letter

Of Pain and Darkness

Warm Welcome

Of Unexpected News

No Magic Zone

Of Not so Hidden Threats

On Three

Bluff

Lost in Translation

Aftermath

Of Nightmares and Decisions

Of Storms and Jumbled Thoughts

The Cabin

Be Still. Enjoy the Silence

Of Requests and Dread [Pt 1]

Of Weather and Realizations [Pt 2]

Of Letters [Pt 3]

Of Sinking Feelings and Confirmations [Pt 4]

Of Journals and Photos [Pt 5]

Of Secrets and Hidden Things [Pt 6]

Of Flowers and Carvings [Pt 7]

Of Roses and Quivers [Pt 8]

The day had been a wild one and certainly not one Nyllae had thought would develop the way it did. Having been able to escape her holding and happen upon Amorthon in the cell of the very estate she had been held against her will. The pair managed to escape and find themselves in the middle of the woods in which the Mage had brought them to Fairbreeze, out of sight though certainly not out of mind.

Nyllae has seen to a room for the Ranger until she could return but her first stop was to be the Shiverflame Estate to collect some items for Amorthon’s comfort and healing, along with Savage and Cibor.

The walk was long though it gave her enough time to think and mull over her thoughts that the past several weeks had offered. Night was nearly upon her and it was the amber glow above the treetops that caused the woman some measure of confusion.

Then Garrelon’s words hit her. If she had chosen one decision over the other…

With panic filling her heart the Mage ran through the woods as far as she could in the direction of the glow, her heart pounding in her ears. There was no way she could halt even if she was exhausted from the activities of that day.

Breaking the treeline the heat hit her in a massive wave, her form and eyes ablaze as the long flames that engulfed the estate reached skyward. Deep crackles of the remaining wood resounded through the silent night and the roar of the flames hissed at anything it touched and devoured. Only some of the beams and stone structures she could make out.

Hundreds of years of literature and teachings passed down through the generations of her family was lost along with the very library they had been in. What remained of her mother’s belongings were now caught in the mass to be nothing but kindling. Nyllae’s own belongings and her attendants. There was so much to consider through the sinking of her heart that the woman hadn't noticed the rough fall of the earth beneath her knees or the scream she released, rage filling her eyes and brimming them -- tears steady as the reflection of the flames warmed them further.

Savage. Cibor! Tenj’la.

Panic rose and with a mixture of fury Nyllae stood walking towards the wreckage, blasts of ice magic bolted from her person, low and furious incantations escaping her when a swirl of icy wind battled against the heavy wall of flames. Some of the remains she managed to douse but the mass that was the estate was too far gone.

“TENJ’LA!” Nyllae called out, hoping to hear something beyond the outcry of the flames at the mercy of her magic. Again she yelled out for anyone who had been stuck within or within range to hear her. Fire and ice clashed and having nearly found herself spent, Nyllae pulled back with a defeated breath.

They had to at least make it out. Tenj’la wasn’t a dense woman and very well trained in magical arts. They had Savage as well she knew to be quite the little survivalist -- though such hopeful thoughts didn’t keep the pain of possible loss at bay.

Her chest rose and fell deeply and the thunderous beat of her heart within her ribs spurred her more in a complete fury that Garrelon stayed true to his word. If she chose Amorthon he would burn everything she knew to the ground and Nyllae was stupid enough to call it a bluff, not considering just how far he would have gone to seize control of the situation and his daughter.

She truly had no idea what he was like. An oversight to be sure.

Falling to rear, Nyllae silently took the defeat and waited. Staying for the blaze to die down long enough for her to search for survivors having only the roar of the flames to stifle the sound of her pained cries as everything she knew was burning away before her.

“The Lady Shiverflame!” her name was announced and Nyllae stepped through the double doors causing Garrelon to stand from the head of the table, “Ah!” her let out, hand motioning towards her and the two others in the room who had been sitting followed suit and offered a bow to the Starscythe bastard, “My daughter, Nyllae.” he made known and he made quick strides over to her side.

“So glad you could join us. I wasn’t expecting you though your company is welcome enough. Come, you can meet our visitors. Lord Vawen Omberdawn and his son Onvai.”

Nyllae was stunned but she done as bid and her head bowed ever so gently in the direction of the two men, “Well met. I certainly apologize for walking in on a meeting.”

“Not at all.” Vawen spoke, “Your father was actually just telling us wonderful things about yourself and your late mother.”

Baffled, Nyllae’s eyes shifted between the three men. It was as if though their last meeting hadn’t happened and her father was every bit the showman that she thought he could be. Yet another simple little trait she seemed to have siphoned from the old man. With a furrowed brow Nyllae angled look towards Onvai and Vawen, “It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Will you join us for dinner?” Garrelon grinned as he asked, motioning to the table before the Shiverflame lady, “I have some news for you.”

News? News was never good when it came from one in which she couldn’t trust. Even more so when there was an unpalatable sincerity behind his words and actions. Confused as ever, Nyllae settled for a firm nod in compliance. At the very least she could appreciate the time to dig a little further.

Nyllae had counted two moons since she arrived from the window in the room and the food came and went uneaten. It was by the time day three rolled around that considered grabbing one of the forks and fighting her way out, long enough to get the manacles off and punish anyone in her way that dared to try and stop her from leaving.

But...there was still her mother’s estate.

“Over my dead body…” she muttered to herself, stalking the length of the carpet she tread upon. She wasn’t about to let her father seize control of the estate, she still didn’t know where Amorthon was and to make matters worse, she knew Garrleon wasn’t bluffing -- he had already taken his own daughter prisoner and took claim of the Shiverflame lands.

If only she had been faster and more thorough. The weight of the pen was far mightier than the word of mouth in this case.

With a furrowed brow Nyllae looked out the window to the treeline in the distance. She knew she was going to be forced to make a choice and it wasn’t one she wanted to do. Forfeit the estate and fight as much as she could or...give in and be able to keep what remained of her mother’s memory.

The manacles at her wrists sung out when she twisted the fork in hand. If anything it could prove as a good enough tool. Would she stab someone to leave, anyone on the other side of that door? Yes. The answer was yes,

She needed to devise something and soon to wiggle herself out of this position and to make for the Shiverflame lands if even it meant to get everyone out. Nyllae gripped the utensil in hand and tucked it back along the belt of her jacket.

Patience would be key. For now.

By the time the lang of the lock opening came, Nyllae had already ducked behind the door. When the shimmy of the knob came and the face swung open, she waited. …3….2…

The person stepped forward to inspect the empty room and the moment a low: “Fuck” was muttered, the Mage stepped forward grabbing the person from behind, hand clasped to their mouth and a well placed set of prongs from a fork was jabbed towards their jugular, “Scream and I will make sure you bleed out through more than one hole.” With a firm hold, Nyllae’s boot inched back and the door slowly closed. When the click was heard, she leaned in towards the ear of the servant, “I have questions and you are going to answer them to the best of your ability. If you scream, I will sever every cord in your throat until your only words are gurgles and grunts. Not even eating through a straw will be a means to sate your stomach. I have killed people in the past --” “Nod if you understand.” Nyllae whispered and then came a small nod from the man which spurred Nyllae to removed her fingers from over his mouth, one by one and she curled the crook of her arm around his front and throat in loose favor.

“Where is the Lord Starscythe.” “Out, millady.” “Where exactly?” “N-no one knows. He comes and goes as of late without explanation.” “And Macelius, has he been around?” “Not lately but Cerovel and Herl-- ah!” The servant jumped with the prongs of the fork pressed deeper towards his throat.

“What of them.” “They’re keeping a prisoner. They come and go several times a day. Even had me attend to him.” “Him?”

A nod was made from the man within her grasp and Nyllae tightened her hold but just enough to where he could talk, “Some woodsy lookin’ lad that they brought in. I don’t know what he looks like much with the beatings. I go in and offer him draughts and potions once or twice a day.”

“Where?” “The dungeon within the estate. You need keys to even get down there and it is guarded.” “Of course it is. These manacles, can you get them off?” “I can with a spell but the master would have my head if I --” “I don’t think you realize how much of a kabob your esophagus and sinew is about to become, my friend.”

“R-right… I’ll uh…” he lifted a hand to point towards the shackles that kept her hands warded from all forms of magic.

Without preamble she situated her wrist close enough without taking the fork far from its target. With a low incantation from the servant, the click of the manacles sprang and Nyllae pushed the man forward from her person. He certainly didn’t look armed.

While he turned about she shimmied the shackles from her wrists which already bore marks from them being heavy against her flesh for days, “He’ll kill him if you defy him and even worse -- he will cut down everything you have attachment to.”

“Not if I beat him to it.” Nyalle spoke out with confidence and as soon as her words left her, so did a flash of Arcane and the man who stood before her had swiftly been reduced to a simple cat, “No hard feelings, kid.” she added and stepping outside of the room she closed the door. A polymorph could last a good while but she wasn’t going to leave it up to chance for the cat to be released.

Now that she had her magic, she might have a need for more. 

Quickly making her way from the rooms and down the spiral stone staircase, she crossed the dining hall but not before tugging free the steel sword perched above the mantle. It seemed to be a weighty weapon which would have to do. It took some time in avoiding any unwanted glances and attention but she had finally found the large doors leading below. Of course there was a lock upon the handles, barring access but for a well seasoned mage and battle hardened woman it wasn’t too much of a task. Taking the heavy lock in hand, she muttered two incantations which eventually yielded results when the curve of the lock released from the mechanism. At the top of the stairs she held a flicker of both fear and hope within her as she held the sword low and quietly descended the stairs.