For the best guard-friend and cutest bunny impersonator, Lliane! 🎭 - How does your muse handle their emotions? Do they bottle them up or pour them out as soon as they start to feel? | 💋 - How does your muse feel about people who cheat? Do they see a reason for it, or is it completely immoral? | 💔 - How would your muse react to losing a romantic partner? How would they cope?
🎭 - When she was still in Suramar, there was a lot of bottling. She hadn't yet come out as She; her mother was very insistent her Son properly inherit the house, take a respectable wife, and produce the next generation. The first time she let her feelies explode out of her was when she first met @tirrea. That startled her enough that she ran away and took almost a year to build up the courage to revisit her (being stuck in a brutal battlefield for most of their time apart expecting Blight to be the death of her helped steel her resolve). Now she does what she can to be emotionally upfront with the people she wants to keep in her life.
💋 - Non bien. It'd be enough for her to ax a relationship, no matter how strongly she feels for the perpetrator. She can do betrayal.
💔 - MISERY. She'd carry that heartbreak for the rest of her life and even if she moved on, she'd neber be over it. She still beats herself up for not being able to save her (kind of awful) mother from becoming a Felborne. Imagine if it was someone that she had an actual good relationship with.
(@tirrea took me long enough to answer this, huh? )
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For the rudest DK to ever..uh, DK? Mr. Gross Armor DK! 🔗 - What are your muse’s standards for meaningful relationships? How quickly do they form relationships like these? | 🌎 - Does your muse want to change the world? How would they go about it? | ⛔️ - How does your muse react to others breaking the law? If they would do it themselves, what is their reasoning?
🔗 - What are your muse’s standards for meaningful relationships? How quickly do they form relationships like these?
For Alerion, this is a tricky question. In life, there was more... care? Let’s go with care. He was a zealot to the light, but he was still capable of feeling for others. His relationships with others were based off of give and take mostly. If her can get something out of someone, they were worth his time. This being advancement in position, gathering of respect, or even affection in times that there was a drought of love. But relationships were always fleeting with Alerion. Transactionary is the best way to describe it. In Death, whenever it was that he finally crossed that boundary from life to death, everything’s been taken to a further extreme. Have something you can provide Alerion? You’re useful until the moment you cannot, they he’s happy to throw you to the wolves. Even if he has to be the wolf himself. For the modern Alerion, every relationship is one of power that he ultimately intends to be the one dominating. As a result, he’s developed a horrible and well earned reputation amongst the Ebon Blade.
🌎 - Does your muse want to change the world? How would they go about it?
What Paladin (or former, I guess) doesn’t? Alerion’s vision has evolved with age and undeath, but is still corely the same. A world without undeath, where all see the Light as their, uh, guiding light. You might be wonder, ‘but Alerion, aren’t YOU a deader?’ And you’d be right to wonder that! You see, Alerion? In his vision, eventually he will be the last one and with him the curse of undeath can be gone forever. So, how is he planning on getting rid of all of the other deaders you might ask? Being in a commanding position, he’s more than willing to throw as many death knights at a problem as it takes to solve a problem. Body counts are scores and he’s aiming to have the highest one. Coincidentally, his division is currently lacking death knights. All of the others have either gone awol and being killed by Alerion personally or sent to their deaths. Both are facts he’s quite proud of. As for dealing with getting rid of the rest of the Foresaken? The recent events involving Sylvannas have left him thrilled.
⛔️ - How does your muse react to others breaking the law? If they would do it themselves, what is their reasoning?
Laws for thee, not for me. Alerion’s actions are always just. Always justified. Not that there are really laws amongst the Ebon Blade. Guidelines, yeah. But laws? A little greyer there. That being said, if it can be bent, Alerion is bending it for himself. A heinous act is just so long as it is for the right cause. Alerion’s cause. If any other deader, Ebon Blade or otherwise, were to do many of the things Alerion’s done in the name of a greater good though, he’d bring down on them his full fury.
For Cyri, the best menace and worst farmer on Azeroth! 💅 - How does your muse feel about gender roles? Do they conform to them, or do they play by their own rules? | 🌺 - Does your muse have a favorite flower? Why do they like it? | 🐜 - How does your muse feel about animal lives? Do they treat them the same way they’d treat a person, or do they feel they’re inferior?
💅 - How does your muse feel about gender roles? Do they conform to them, or do they play by their own rules?
“Gender roles!?” Cyri does her patented snort-laugh, only to blink in shock. A certain dumbfoundedness filled the air around her, “WAIT. Y’serious? Lady, I was a bird for the past thirty-somethin odd years! I don’t even -get- Gender Roles any more. I do what I want and what I want is to…. toooo…. I’ll get back to you on that.”
🌺 - Does your muse have a favorite flower? Why do they like it?
“shmflwrds,” Cyri says through a mouth full of sunflower seeds. "Thys tsssty.”
🐜 - How does your muse feel about animal lives? Do they treat them the same way they’d treat a person, or do they feel they’re inferior?
“I wouldn’t say I love animals more than people. I know, I know! Weird right, on account of the whole…” Cyri put her hands up to her sides and flapped them like they were little wings. “Crow’s special, but Crow’s… Crow. I don’t know any other bird brains out there quite like him, so to me he’s just as important as any ol’ person. But, like, to put every animal on the same footing as people? I dunno. Ever meet a cow? They’re big sweethearts but wow! Wow are they dumb!”
<Lacking the grace of his correspondent's care package, a burlap sack stuffed to the point of bursting arrived at the doorstep of the Emberward estate. The scent of potatoes lingered on the bag's fabric which would have remained altogether unremarkable had it not been for name sloppily inked onto it: Lady Tirrea Emberward.
Within the sack was hay, hay, and more hay. Beneath that a second sack wrapped tightly around oblong objects. Within that was a small box marred by time, the decorative gryphon carved into its face barely recognisable, its hinges rusted and stubborn as hell. Alongside the box was a bottle of Dalaran Noir, a cork stuffed into its neck and a covered in unblemished ruby wax that had oozed down the neck before fully hardening. Inside the blemished box sat a Stratholme lily and and scattered purple seedpods. The letter itself had noticeably more artistry than his previous; under direct light a faint golden cloud serpent could be seen gliding across the page, weaving above and below words, its jaws unhinged and about to swallow its creator’s signature at the bottom.>
The Kind Lady Emberward,
Had I known we would be exchanging gifts, I’d have prepared for a better means to do so! I can only pray that you found the fortitude to dig through the hay to find the contents within (and that you are capable of looking beyond my method of sending said contents). It is also with some regret that I must inform you I am, yet again, writing you from the top of something. Though the height of the tower is much less impressive than the space near the clouds Acherus occupies! Thankfully I also have a freshly brewed cup of wonderful tea to calm my nerves. Perhaps you’ve saved a life this evening.
If you might be so inclined, when next I visit I would happily accompany you to the grounds your home once stood on. Then you may at least have a friend beside you as you look at the past. As I shall say for your digression and your remorseful memories; please, share what troubles you so that I might listen. There is no need to suppress the things that linger on your mind, no matter how relevant they may or may not feel. As long as they are relevant to you, they have place in our letters. And thank you for your kind words toward Lady Ashborn, they mean more than I can properly express. I’m still not sure how I feel about the goblin you made mention of... I feel inclined to say I hated everything about it.
I did as you asked on my journey to Stratholme and wore your gift. While I’m afraid I cannot report any possession prevention, I can assure you that the person writing you is none other than the same Kelanthael you met in Quel’thalas. Though he now sports a lovely golden bracelet on his wrist. May it protect me should I have any more direct encounters with resentful spirits!
I arrived at Stratholme a mere hour after having received your package and found myself overcome by the grief that still lingers among these lands. The scent of rot still stubbornly clings to the fog around the weathered stone , as it seems the case that every step toward this city is meant to remind trespassers of the suffering that still echoes from voices without bodies. Such melancholic sights and sounds were not what I had traveled there for though! Thus I imbibed my dream brew and settled into meditation atop the gatehouse. When the noise within my head lulled I was soon pulled into a vision of the land years prior, an evening not unlike any other from the city that had already weathered destruction once prior. In the dream state, you are little more than an observer and however much you might wish to warn them of what’s to come you may as well be speaking to a wall.
What I was privy to watch was what drew me there in the first place. A city at peace, children playing in the streets, laughter and joyous yells escaping the nearest pub’s open doors. The stone was uncracked and unsullied, store doors were open on every block, goods were carted in and out of the bustling streets every passing moment. When I awoke from my gaze into the past, I ventured in to see the ruins of what I had seen pristine only moments ago. With clever step and patience the undead that still linger aren’t wont to notice much; I suspect the ones that remain among the earliest batches have little remaining of their minds at all. I soon found myself standing in a flower shop, many of the pots shattered and littering the floor, while those that remained had little more than dust remaining where flowers once sat. Not all things are meant for death though and in your presence is proof. A Stratholme Lily clung to life, having grown from the dirt foundation beneath cracked wooden floor. Within the box I sent are seed pods I’ve harvested alongside the flower itself. If you are willing to suffer my request, my heart would love few things greater than to see the lilies bloom once more.
I fear that what I take away from this visit has not yet settled within me, as I wrestle with conflicting answers attempting to take root in my mind. I do however know one thing with great certainty and that is the upcomming gift of being shown your notes on our fishy friends. If you can escape the city for an evening, I would happily accept your company at my next planned location. We can discuss the finer details of the Murloc’s ability to out-populate intrepid adventures attempts to extinguish them.
I will be making a brief stop in Hearthglen to make time for a friend and steal floorspace by a fireplace for a night’s rest. If you’re willing to provide me another letter to enjoy on my way to the Greymane Wall, I’d be most grateful! I suspect my next letter will not be as immediate as I would hope. Gilneas no longer lends itself well to postage. I hope my lack of response won’t brew too much worry, regardless of how much I may enjoy knowing I have you worrying after me.
Be well Lady Emberward and know that you yet another that cherishes the letters you send. I assure you I will come to no harm or at least make my best effort an effort not to. I wish you the best on your aspiring career of post-lunch napping.
Your friend & murloc enthusiast,
Kelanthael, Lorewalker Aspirant.
P.S. I enjoyed a swig or two of the wine and resealed it. Perhaps wait to drink it until next you hear from me on the off chance I succumb to the plague. If you’ve already sampled it, then I hope you’ve enjoyed the vintage beverage and that it is not your last.
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As I write to you I sit atop Acherus, overlooking the Plaguelands as far as the fogs allow. Thus far, your worries have not taken form! No harm has come to me along the dour beginning to my journey, so long as we ignore a rogue bit of cobblestone’s attack on my largest toe. I wish I could wax poetic to you about my view, but the mustard and muddy colours that make up most of this landscape’s palette do not lend themselves to that. Instead I might tell you of what drew me to the ebon hold and its deathly denizens!
I traveled to Acherus under the pretext of learning more about the servants of Arugal, the worgen death knights. While not entirely a lie, I am ashamed to say it was not the full truth. While I am in the process of composing a piece on the Worgen’s place in Azeroth, the reason I largely went was in hopes of hearing from an old friend.
During much of Legionfall and the events thereafter I was in the company of a company of the Ebon Blade alongside a Lorewalker much my senior, a Pandaren by the name of Yozu. We spent much of our time in the presence of an ambassador for the Ebon Blade, a young Sin’dorei whose age had been frozen in time both in metaphor and the most literal sense of the word. Ambassador Ashborn or, as she later became known to me, Aquilari was the very essence of what one often envisions Death Knights to be; austere, exacting, fierce, haunting. Naturally I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Master Yozu and the Ambassador had rapport. I would come to find out that she was the closest thing he had to a daughter, which is quite likely the reason she eventually came to recognize me as more than a nuisance.
To describe the woman trapped within a shell of undeath as lovely would do her a great injustice. With time she began to allow glimpses at the woman she once was. She shared with me the wisps of memory that lingered within her of a lifelong lost, of sorrows and joys, of youth and her death. To see the vulnerability juxtaposed against the icy maelstrom that would rend flesh from her enemies with the ease a breeze might scatter leaves. The horror she was capable of only added weight to her plight. She longed for life, lamenting the pain of undeath, the loss of senses, the loss of whatever normalcy she once had. Even so, she was diligent in her work. She was driven and fiercely protective of those beneath her. I’ve heard of Death Knights going rogue often enough when I was in their company, though in the months I spent with them only a single knight succumbed to the urge to flee from undeath. Though not only had the Lady Ashborn tracked him down, she subdued the most brutal of her lot and compelled the renegade to return to them. Such was her influence among her order, such was the power of her will and the strength of her heart. I admired the brilliant force of nature that was Aquilari. I still do.
All good things must come to an end though and such was the fate of my dear friend. In my attempts to help her find peace, I fear I my efforts awoke something within her that even she was not quite ready for. She fled shortly after, a number of her company disappearing alongside her. In less than a day the work she had spent years building crumbled back to its foundations. By nights fall her most zealous officer had taken flight after her and the other renegades, intent on bringing back their remains.
So here I am, perched atop Acherus, writing to you as I sit surrounded by what few tomes they had to offer me on their Worgen companions. It seems as if she has not yet been found, though others have not been so lucky. I cannot say with certainty she is still among us, but I like to hold out some hope.
In light of the grim, allow me to at least offer a bit of excitement! Next, I travel to Stratholme where I’ll be taking a moment to investigate the past with the help of my former master’s dream brew! I’ll be sure to send a letter more reflective of intrigue rather than self-reflection! If you’d care to send a letter, I’ll be sure to visit the Northpass Tower both before and after my visit to the city that marked the beginning of a prince’s end.
I hope that this letter finds you well and that you are capable of suffering my rambling musings of the past. May you be well and may life treat you fairly. May you share your laughter with others as often as I was privileged to it.
And perhaps I wrote too soon. As the sun makes to set, I find myself enamored with the gloomy valley that lays before me.
For Verac: would your muse ever get married? | what is your muse’s love language? | does your muse usually take the lead in relationships?
Marriage: In life? Yes. Strictly out of obligation to please family. In undeath? No. Maybe. Probably not. Something about undeath makes the whole thing seem a little... silly? Till death do us part; guess it's over before it even started, huh?
Love Language: Verac once was much, ah, better at showing emotion. He had the mask of nobility he wore in the face of social affairs, arranged meetings with potential marriage partners, and his family. The greatest expression of love he could really offer was to remove that mask and share something more than surface-deep. Getting lost in long conversations, yammering on about his work, sharing some of the little free-time he had with anyone was the only way he knew to show someone that he cared about them. In the aftermath of death, the way he's expressed love has experienced a pretty radical change. The Hunger™, the driving force to hurt and to revel in that hurt, has been supressed in recent years but still holds some dominion over all things he does. For a platonic love, being able to comfortably restrain himself from satisfying those urges is a feat. To be any warmer than positively ice cold is an even greater one. Romantic love is another beast, one where an expression of love and the satisfaction of The Hunger™ are intertwined in a... non-destructive manner. We'll leave that to our imaginations, shall we?
Leading in relationships: In life, nnnnoooooo. Too much work, to many things to focus on, too little of a choice in who his friends and romantic partners were supposed to be. What was there to lead? Undeath has given him a freedom and a change in disposition. His time amongst the Scourge left him able to and comfortable with manipulating people, dominating others, and all around being a bit of a controling dick to most people. There are exceptions; relationships he wants to foster for reasons beyond personal gain, ones that make him feel a little more... living? And those are relationships he's proactive in forming and keeping.
For Lli: if your muse is uncomfortable in a relationship, will they address the problem or keep quiet? | would your muse ever get married? | does your muse usually plan out dates or go with the flow?
Uncomfortable in relationships: Adress the problem; easily. Were she not in a relationship she felt secure in, with a partner she respected and felt respected by, she would probably hesitate. Thankfully, Tirrea exists. Wanting to be complacent in a situation that would ultimately make them both unhappy? No way. She'd always choose those hard conversations over saying nothing if it means a healthier relationship.
Marriage: Yes. Lliane is absolutely no stranger to commitment. She goes all in on everything she does.
Plans or flow: Both! She'd like to be able to plan, but the world beyond the bubble and beyond a battlefield is so new to her that planning is just not a skill she has. So, flow for now, planning... eventually?
