#seadaught

                    𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒   rare that their boy prefers anyone over his mother ... he may as well be attached to jaina at the hip. but today, rhonin crawls to thrall FIRST, completely of his own volition without a single act of bribery. thrall smiles wider than he has in years as he lifts his son up, completely elated ― and cannot help but LAUGH at the look of betrayal on jaina’s face. his grin turns to one of good-natured smugness, as does his tone. rhonin merely pulls at his father’s tusks, obliviously babbling in his baby speech even as thrall teases on.

I CARE A LOT SENTENCE STARTERS // accepting.

There are few, she thinks, that would be capable to truly understand the weight of all of it --- a beloved city you saw begin and grow; the people who inhabited it, the people who followed you, the people you failed to protect, devastated in spite of not being the ones who waged war against the other side; the cruelty that goes much deeper than war alone, destruction for the sake of it, death unimaginable that left only ash and ruins in the aftermath.

If anyone can understand the High Priestess of Darnassus, surely it would be the Lady of Theramore.

But of course, neither of them are those things any longer.

Tyrande did not blame Jaina for her absence, for choosing to fight the Legion in own manner, for refusing even truce with those who had harmed her so, for returning in own time. She did not, not even before, never being one to ever expect better of their enemies; now, she could not, for the most necessary and needed truce would nevertheless be inacceptable in her eyes.

And perhaps that had been their mistake; tolerating truce, although peace would never be possible, regardless of how many times the Horde had proved it would not change. After all, Teldrassil was their most recent heinous crime, but far from the only one. 

Before, support from allies had comforted somewhat, when she would yet cling to whichever slivers of hope remained, when it seemed like her people would not have to fend for themselves all alone. That certainty has long since left her; Tyrande would not ignore what the Alliance had done, for good or ill, and if they had offered support and shelter when her people needed most, so had they, for most part, turned their backs when time came to offer the kaldorei justice they were owed.

Jaina was not one she blamed for that; the Night Warrior knew best than to trust words alone, however. 

“Then I pray you will remain on my side, Jaina.” And it is meant, this; they had fought together against the Legion years before, and Tyrande had sent her own daughter to lead the kaldorei in support to Theramore. Perhaps she did not have closest of friendships with the Lord Admiral, yet Tyrande would have counted her a friend, most certainly someone held in high regard. 

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅 ;; 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 @seadaught​ asked :    just peppers his face with kisses.

                    ❝ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 ― 𝐉𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐀 ― ❞   a nervous chuckle breaks the seal, unable to resist the way the corners of his mouth tug upwards ‘round weathered tusks. her hands, so small yet so unapologetically powerful, cup his warming cheeks to hold him in place. she had the forethought to know that he would shy away; she knows him better than he knows HIMSELF, he thinks. but still thrall wrinkles his nose, a chuff of hot air blown from his nostrils in the way a petulant child might receive affection from his mother ― even as he leans into every press of her lips against his skin. his cheeks take on a darker color as he is forced  ( perhaps for the first time in his life )  to be still, to be LOVED. 

          she is the sea, gentle waves caressing his face in soft kisses. every splash of salt water erodes his stone shield just a little more and brings her closer to the orc he has hidden away from the world; as time passes, he finds he is less and less AFRAID of what she will discover. his eyes, as blue as the water she commands, stare at her as his wolf does the moon, completely encapsulated. his hand settles at her hip, smiling still with no lack of BASHFULNESS as he leans into her touch and sighs. he drifts away with her tide, light as a feather, her warmth seeping into his earthen bones.

𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐁𝐈𝐍 ; 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 @seadaught​ asked :     ✔ *looks at you*

✔: A plot you would love to play out with your character ;   looks at the list of smudged thraina prompts on my hand and sweats ... all of them? LIKE ....... HOW COULD I CHOOSE.

honestly though that one au we talked about where thrall and jaina just cut to the chase and get together right out of the gate instead of pining for like fifteen years? that. it’s top tier and is all the softness they deserve while also being a power couple that keeps the horde and alliance both in check with each other? UGH. we need to thread it at some point because its just light hearted and sweet and full of potential.

but also, if you’re in the angst department ... would love for heated post-garrosh (or during garrosh) exchanges when basically everything goes to shit between them ...... i tend to enjoy, ah, suffering ................

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅 ;; 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 @seadaught​ asked :    gentle in her movement, jaina cups thrall’s face in her hands, then presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

                      𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒   heavy on his shoulders, BURDENED with a crown he has never wanted to carry. his back arches under the pressure and his posture is suffering for it, hunched in his chair like a peon as he attempts to make sense of the recount of his last council meeting. his notes feel as SCATTERED and picked apart as his brain ― it’s thrall’s own handwriting, and it looks foreign to him. heavy hand drags down his face in exasperation and he tries ONCE AGAIN to reign in his focus; politics are surely an advanced method of torture.

          however reserved he may be, thrall clearly doesn’t hide his WOES well enough. ears twitch as he registers jaina’s light footsteps, her silent yet comforting presence over his shoulder. he has half a mind to say something WITTY, if he can find the intellect to spare, but she is holding his face in her soft hands before he can get to the punchline. the stress flows out of him like a river and all of its tributaries as her lips touch his head, unable to hold in the sigh of relief that drifts past his tusks. 

          ❝ you know me too well, jaina. ❞   a chuckled murmur, his calloused hand raising to rest over top hers ‘pon his cheek. a gentle PURR emanates from his chest.   ❝ or am i that dramatic ?? ❞

          it rolls like the gentlest of thunderclaps, or the grinding of the earth beneath their feet. almost a purr, but not quite; it reverberates in his chest like a WAR DRUM as his brow furrows. the sound quiets, only slightly, as his body stiffens and one steel blue eye cracks open to peek up at her reaction. his voice carries the weight of drowsiness, rasping in his throat.

❝ ... why are you LOOKING at me like that ?? ❞