#seriol

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.

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.

Well I asked for something to do...!    Going to mix this up with the character answers.

1. What’s one experience your character had that made them very afraid?

Veriinya's faced a lot things that made her afraid in her life, but... the most terrified she's ever been was a scene I had the pleasure of roleplaying with @wingsofblue.    After returning to Draenor, she had the opportunity to reunite with an old friend that had died in the main timeline.   She was present during the fighting at Karabor (the questline in Shadowmoon Valley), and her friend nearly died again.

Her fear for his life was so great that she pulled off the metaphysical equivalent of lifting a car with her bare hands.   Veriinya is not ICly a paladin; she has a great deal of difficulty touching the Light due to scar tissue in her mind.   She ripped through some of the scar tissue and pulled as much power into herself as she could in order to save Theo's life.

2. What is your character’s happiest memory?

This one was really difficult for all of my characters save one; not that they haven't had happy memories, but it's like choosing the memory to call forth one's patronus.  It has to be really good.

Seriol's happiest memory is the day his first daughter was laid in his arms, bewildered and crying in protest at the rude introduction to the world.   His marriage to Mikania wasn't yet rocky, so the desperation he would feel at Veriinya's birth wasn't yet there to tarnish his happiness.  

He still feels, after all that's happened, that those were the glory days of his life; when it was the three of them in a tiny little family unit on the Genedar.

3. What’s one skill your character really wishes they had?

Keialaar secretly wishes she had Veriinya's skill with arms.   She's not bad with weaponry, but Veri has focused on it as a specialty, whereas Kei's abilities are a bit more diverse.    ... She also would very much like Veri's skills at cooking, as Kei is a terrible cook.

4. What is their favourite food? Their daily diet?

Veri is a cop, when all is said and done.   She likes food that can be eaten whenever there's time to grab a bite; which means a lot of stews, soups and things that are good cold.  She particularly likes talbuk sandwiches with tomatoes and brie with boiled eggs.

Her absolute favorite meal involves some sort of protein in steak form, a salad or other vegetable item, and fresh fruit with a nice wine. 

5. Do they like music? If so, what kind of music do they enjoy?

Keialaar loves music.    Draenic, Kaldorei, Dwarven... she doesn't care.  She particularly loves music she can dance to, the more lively the better.  She probably has a hoard of data crystals full of different types of music stashed in various safe locations.  

Sequel to this.

“Hello, daughter mine.”

Keialaar struggled, straining against Ark's hands on her arms.  Her lover, her beloved, held her tight against his chest, kneeling on the icy tundra, his eyes on the bloody priest that stood before them.  

This isn't real.  It can't be real.  Seriol is dead.

Behind her, Arkturas trembled, but his grip on her arms was solid as the rocks upon which they knelt.    She knew, with the terrible insight of dreams, that her father had done something; gotten to him somehow.  

"I have waited a long time to meet you."   Robes dragged over the pitted ice, the scraping sound cutting through to her soul.  

I won't look I won't acknowledge him this isn't real wake up WAKE UP WAKE UP.

Fingers curled around her jaw, skeletal and cold; there was a brief pressure in the back of her head, and then...

Look at me.>   His mental voice had a weight to it, an inexorability.  She must obey; resistance was pointless.

Nausea roiled in her stomach.  He's dead dead dead I killed him don't look can't look oh gods save me plea---

She woke abruptly, lurching over, her stomach heaving.  Swiping at her mouth weakly, she lurched to her hooves, using the tree she had been sleeping against for support.  The dreams were getting worse, and she knew that if she gave in, if she looked Seriol in the face, she would be lost forever.    

"You can't fucking have me."  It made her feel better... stronger.  To say the words out loud.  She began moving down the mountain again, slowly at first, then more quickly as her muscles warmed.    It was time to go, time to put this ghost to rest.  Auchindoun... a swift swipe with a blade, and it would be done.  Perhaps.  Or perhaps this was all in her head.  She needed to find someone uninvolved; someone she could trust.    Zangarra.  She needed a mage.  

Decision made, she gritted her teeth and forced herself into a trot.  

(X)

The garrison was festive.  Now that Sha'raan was over, the Draenei that had spent time on Azeroth celebrated the holiday of their allies, feasting on wild fowl and game brought in by the hunters.   Keialaar didn't much care for the Bounty holiday; it felt frenetic, gluttonous and over the top.  She longed for the quiet reflection of the Sha'raan celebrations... although honesty compelled her to acknowledge those had gotten rather boisterous in the wee hours of the night.

She watched from an upper window of the keep, her eyes following a familiar and beloved form in the courtyard below as Arkturas moved among the men, bending to speak with them here or there, making himself available for complaints and greetings alike.  It was a policy she approved of; a commander known to his men was one they could respect.  She smiled as Cherynaa darted across the square, hitting her father's knees with shouts of greeting.  Without missing a beat, the tall man tossed her up at his shoulder to the little girl's delight.  She clung to his crest as he bent to continue his conversation with one of the dwarven sappers the Sword employed.

Keia turned away with a sigh.  She was grateful that her loved ones were safe.  Even with events in Tanaan having gone the way they had... there were many that were not as fortunate.  Veriinya was safe on Azeroth, Arkturas would not go to Tanaan himself, and Cherynaa had a child's delight at being with her parents; she did not seem to miss the homestead in Nagrand.    But the same could not be said for the former Rangari herself; she longed to return home, to think of her herds and leather, to sleep beneath the stars up on the ridge at the cabin.

She moved around the room restlessly, picking up small objects then putting them down again.  She had not slept easily since returning to Draenor, and at first, she had attributed it to homesickness.   Now... she was less certain.  Dreams of her father plagued her in the wee hours of the night, and there was no one to whom she could turn.  Veriinya, old gods of Argus willing, would never know who he was.   Arkturas liked Seriol, and thought her hatred irrational.    And even if he didn't think that Seriol was a wholly different man than the monster that had sired her...   She closed her eyes, shuddering.  The scenes that played out in her mind every night featured her husband-to-be almost as much as her father.   It had been a relief when he worked into the wee hours of the night.

She bared her teeth, anger and irritability flaring.  Whatever Miriamaa had done... it wasn't enough.  Seriol would never leave her be; she'd never be free of his influence.   She paced the room, her tail lashing like a cat's.  She had thought, upon her initial return to Draenor, that there was an easy way to deal with him; a blade in the dark before he knew there was a threat...  She had let Arkturas talk her out of it, but that had been before the dreams began.  

Suddenly the solid walls of the keep felt confining, claustrophobic, as if the room was growing smaller.  The pressure increased until she felt she must scream.   Opening the window didn't help; she needed the sky above her head, and needed it desperately.  Her hooves beat the wooden floors in a staccato rhythm as she strode through them, her pace speeding until she was nearly at a run.

"Captain!"  She collided with Andren before she could catch herself, rocking the artificer back on his heels.  "Are you unwell? Cap- Keialaar?"  He reached for her arms, the expression on her face alarming.

"Don't-!  Don't touch me!"  She dodged, panic flaring anew.  She liked Andren; he had been incredibly patient with Cherynaa, and they worked well together.  But the idea of any man touching her right now, when she felt like this... nausea roiled in her stomach.  She shook her head and darted away.  

"CAPTAIN!"  His voice drifted after her as she ran past the stables, ignoring the cries of surprise and greeting of the people she pushed aside.  The guards at the front gate were too startled to do more than stare after her as she dashed past.   She ran until a bend in the road took her out of sight of the gates, pausing to catch her breath.   She thought being outside would help, that she would be able to breathe, once she was outdoors.  But the sensation of someone breathing down her neck wasn't alleviated; if anything, it was growing more intense.  

It took every bit of woodscraft she had ever learned to obscure her cautious descent through the forested slope.  The mountain trails were the first place anyone would look; she was known to haunt them when she needed the sky above her head, and the thought of Ark's worried and pitying expression was more than she could bear.  

She ran for hours, stopping only when her legs threatened to give way beneath her.   She hadn't made it terribly far down the mountain; when the wind shifted, she could hear voices- hopefully still celebrating...  hopefully not searching for her.  By her estimation, she should have a full day; perhaps two.  It wasn’t the first time she had gotten restless and tired of being penned up behind stone walls... and her regret at leaving without a word was engulfed by the strange compulsion that drove her out of the fortress.

Exhausted, she curled up at the base of a tree, rubbing skinned palms over her knees.  She would rest for a few minutes... then move on.  Auchindoun was to the north; she could feel it like a lodestone in her mind.  He was there.  But so too Arkturas would be, as soon as he realized she was missing.  I need space.  And quiet.  I need to figure out what to do.   I need...

She didn't finish the thought, sliding into darkness.

(A blooper from this scene).

As Idra circled behind Seriol, the door to heroffice opened. Seriol resisted the urge to tug his vest down lower over histight-fitting pants, for it wasn’t quite long enough to cover much of anything.Idra’s secretary led in another grandly-dressed woman, who Seriol recognizedimmediately.

“Soulbinder Aydiis, so good of you to come.” Idraswept out to greet her rival, her words dripped with equal measures of civilityand disdain.

Aydiis was distracted momentarily by Seriol. Heattempted to bow, and heard a distinct rip of fabric behind him. He froze. Theseam at his seat felt suddenly, and unmistakably, looser.

Idra began to speak to Aydiis, but noticed thatSeriol had not straightened from his bow. “Are you all right, Seriol?”

(x)

“Ah, Soulpriest Seriol! I wasn’t expecting anyother visitors today.” Artificer Gamelon scrambled to his hooves when thetaller, robed man entered his office. If possible, Gamelon’s desk full of partialschematics and floating images looked even more chaotic than ever. Seriol notedhow the Artificer rushed several risqué ones out of view.

The deep cold hadn’t changed. Seriol’s breathclouded in front of his lips as he spoke. Other visitors? “I thought I had complete permissionto enter and monitor progress when I wished, Artificer,” he remarked. “Is thisnot a suitable time to see Idr—the model?”

Gamelon cupped his hands in front of his bellyand wriggled his fingers. “Now that you mention it, I had forgotten that particular allowance. No, today would not be suitable. There are many,many detailed tests to run and it is best for the Idrael if I not pause, and re-start them solely for theconvenience of a single soulpriest.”

Seriol detected a faint emphasis on his title.His Soulbinder Trial had not yet taken place, and he harbored suspicions aboutthe source of the delay. Valaasca had offered him little, and he didn’t know ifit was because she uncovered nothing, or didn’t wish to tell him. Stretchingout his mind, he felt Idra’s churning presence near, on the other side of the locked laboratory door.

So close and yet, so very far. “When would it be best for meto return?”

“Oh, well, that will all depend.” Gamelon’seyes glittered. Just that morning, he had received an inspection request from the higherranking – and obviously more important – Soulbinder Bisnaa. Auchenai politicsmattered little to him when he’d already received Seriol’s promised funding.What did it hurt if someone else, someone more powerful, expressed interest in his work? “Itis all very… delicate.” Gamelon licked his lips.

Recognizing the denial, Seriol’s jaw clenched.He forced himself to nod politely to the Artificer and rattle off somepleasantries, before he turned and left the frigid office. It seemed clear to himthat other players had crept into the gaming board, and he needed allies.

He needed Valaasca.