#solaniar

In Quel'thalas the seasons never change. Spring never swelters in summer's heat, never knows the color of autumn's caress, never gives way to winter's cold embrace. It is a constant, timeless thing that often makes time appear to stand still even to a race where time is never lacking.

The ocean waves roll onto the shore, washing small pebbles and bits of shell onto the thin beach. The breeze carried along the waves does not notice french doors, open or closed as they are now. It will not notice that they do not open again. The wind doesn't mind if it never brushes over skin laid bare in the bedroom overlooking the water. It is does not notice gauze curtains now stiff and straight, hanging lifeless with those doors latched tight.

The stones in the front yard, some too large to move, remain poised like a dragon's building blocks. Just as she'd left them.

The lights have gone out, the spell to bring them to life unwound by shaking hands. The last bit of magic that remains is the ward on the door, before it too is released in a soft rush of arcane. Trembling fingers slide down the door face once, pausing to curl into a loose fist before dropping away. The coo of the Phoenix curled into his collarbone coaxes them up again to stroke its neck.

Solaniar turns then, lifting the small suitcase at his side and reaching to run fingers along Anari's back before walking away.

A letter, along with a key, would eventually find its way to the hands of a knight far from the land of eternal spring.

Corey,

I can not stay at the estate, it was not built with my family's money and it is not mine to keep. Besides, it is filled with more painful ghosts now than your family home ever was.

The last two years were hard, but I can't imagine surviving and thriving in them with anyone but you. You will always hold a dear place in my soul, regardless of anything else.

I hope you find whatever you are looking for Corey. I hope we both do.

“I went with my ship, and her crew.”

“But you were.. are.. human.” Solan canted his head, brows knitted up in distress. “You had no ties to SIlvermoon, no family.”

The undead priest shifted uncomfortably, bones grinding and popping as he did. The light from the campfire illuminated his gaunt features, making him seem more monster than tired and lonesome man. 

“The blood of the covenant, young elf.”

Jack has begun to learn that his trust can't be given so freely anymore. When he used to be quite dapper and happy-go-lucky he was blinded by giving it out to even the wrongest of the wrong people. Since then, he's been burned quite a bit and it's finally started to take a toll on him. However on the opposite side of that coin, he's learned to really trust his close friends and always enjoy their honesty.

 Oh gosh. 

I guess I’d have to say Canerae has a huge problem understanding when to be quiet. She talks a lot when she’s nervous, especially around new people. Most of the time it gets her into trouble because she’ll keep talking until she says something that she actually didn’t want to say. 

And Cellys? Uhhhh…I don’t even want to touch this one. There are so many things she perceives in a different way, but the main thing I would have to be would be friends and love. She doesn’t understand that even if she royally fucks up it will be her friends who are there to pull her back from the edge.