#traejan

Tahlran looked like he gave the questions a good bit of thought. “I enjoy nice legs on a woman. And there’s plenty of ways to show that off, of course. Short skirts or certain kinds of leathers. A good pair of heels. That all works out very nicely..” About the second half of it he looked a little embarrassed. “Well, I don’t like to be crude.. but there are plenty of things men have that women also have that are perfectly attractive, but only one thing that’s completely exclusive..”

Once again, Traejan had zero qualms about a quick answer whatsoever. “In either case, a nice ass.”

Arvalin looked a little shy, but composed enough. “Wow.. alright. Well, it isn’t something I think about a lot. But.. mm.. there are plenty of attractive people about, of course. And if I were with someone.. then that would be appropriate..” He cleared his throat. “Given the right person.. and there’s plenty of attractive things to wear. Or.. not.. wear. At the right time and place and all that..”

Traejan chuckled. “I like beautiful things. That’s known. Everyone knows my reputation..” He looked quite proud of himself. “But more specifically, I buy Vittani beautiful dresses knowing they’ll only be worn once. Or sometimes we’ll play a little game only the two of us know about.. likely at the most inappropriate times..” He tapped a finger against his temple, implying that was something they could share purely through their 'link’. “It’s very effective.”

Tahlran looked unused to having these kinds of questions posed to him, but settled soon enough. “Mm.. well.. who I’m with now? Tends not to wear shirts very often. And you might think after awhile you’d get desensitised to that sort of things but.. no. No, it still manages to be appealing, especially during training or sparring or working or.. just about anything that allows a person to show off what they have. And sometimes I can get very caught up in my work..” He smiled. “... But I can be convinced to save it for later..”

Miklos considered that carefully before answering. “I assume all of this is entirely off the record, yes? Because believe me, I’ll know if that isn’t the case..” Which sounded entirely, intentionally like a warning. “I don’t know what you people place under the umbrella of those terms, but one can make things interesting with a simple change of location.” A pause. “That might also go hand-in-hand with occasional changes of role as well. So to speak..”

Traejan looked about as smug and at ease as usual. “Easy answer. Yes, I would. I’ve had a lot of ‘best friends’ over the years and I can say with a certainty that I either already have or would, given the opportunity..”

It was supposed to be so simple. Just a favour; a bit of work Vittani had asked Traejan to accompany her with.

So simple.

But Vittani had her own pull there in the Caverns thanks to her time spent learning from the Bronzeflight and Tahlran by extension. They didn't just undertake a mission, she'd shown him the war. The first. The horrors of the War of the Ancients. Demons pouring out in numbers that seemed inconceivable to him. Things were bad on the Broken Isles, but this was in its own class. The histories, even those penned by ancestors who had lived through it, didn't do it justice when you witnessed it with your own eyes.

And after that, Traejan understood why she felt so strongly about getting into the fight. His motivations had always been greed and power. It was less “save the world" and more “how to profit from saving the world". Of course, he wasn't blind or so cruel that he didn't grasp the weight of what they were doing. He was helping to preserve a better world for his children and family to live on in. But he never truly understood how literally world shattering that had been.

But that was fine. That he grasped.

Then, they went to Hyjal. The presence of the Scourge left him puzzled. It wasn't all ignorance -- plenty of knowledge had been altered after his death. Indoctrination, of sorts. Arthas Menethil was his King. Arthas Menethil had led the Scourge through Quel’thalas and in doing so, Traejan lost his life. But through the Lich King’s power, he gained another. While others balked and served unwillingly, Traejan had been loyal. He owed his King. His service, as he envisioned it, repaid a debt. A debt he'd be paying as long as he existed. And that was fine.

But Hyjal.. Hyjal rattled him to the core. Scourge in Kalimdor. His King nowhere to be found. Necromancers bellowing about the Master that was not any he was aware of. The powerful Lich that yelled a rallying cry. The Legion would prevail.

Things started fraying and unraveling then, even with Vittani's explanations and assurances. She'd done her best. And when they were through he smiled and said, “I'm okay.”

In the morning, he smiled and said, “I'm fine. Go to work with a clear head. I'm fine.”

But nothing could have been further from the truth.

He'd tried to work, tried opening his Gate to Acherus as usual, but he couldn't. Instead, he used his generator. Traveled to Icecrown. He didn't venture into the Citadel, where the new King reigned. But he was close. The Halls of Reflection were open and abandoned. But it had been a place the former King had visited. It wasn't so much that he was lamenting that loss, but the place felt.. warm, somehow. Familiar. When he sat down on the steps leading to the elevated throne -- he would never assume he ever had the right to actually sit in it -- he was already lost in his thoughts.

Traejan had brought books with him and enough alcohol to kill a mortal man. Hours, he spent there. Pouring over readings while he drained that supply. By the time he'd written Rosefica he was already cracking.

Talking illuminated some things. Good, bad, and in between. He was well aware that he was a mess and that she had to see him in that state. Drunk enough that he couldn't see straight after a while. Not that he did a thing to stop it. He only could regret that she'd had to witness it.

But Rose was doing her best and for a moment she'd almost gotten through to him.

Even before he'd learned the truth of things he'd been suffering. Even through his joking and enthusiasm about everything. His new power, his new purpose. Profits. He didn't know why he was suffering despite all that and his family too until he realised it then. The lies. His life was built on them. Lying to the Horde and the Alliance was easy. He had no qualms about it. But he'd lied to Vittani. Rose. Even Aegnas. There were the ones Vittani caught him in and others so natural and so well-covered he didn't think she even suspected.

She didn't know truly how dangerous it could really get for him. She didn't know how, despite that, how irresponsible he was. Drinking used to be.. recreational. Or something needed when things went sideways and he'd sit with Rose and forget about their troubles over brandy. Sharing fine wine at home with Vittani.

Now? Now it was hard to get through the day without. He was functional, but it removed his inhibitions where he might have been more cautious. If Vittani or the others knew how bad it was, they never mentioned it. He'd gone into and survived enough battles not to think anything of it. And even after he'd been injured he knew he probably wouldn't change.

But none of it was their fault, even if they said nothing.

He saw Rose happy. Engaged to be married. She didn't call on him for late night talks; she had Eridan for that now. Aegnas.. he wasn't sure. But he had doors opening for him he hadn't before. Everyone seemed happy. Which wasn't to say he wasn't, but there was something that made him feel like he couldn't face his own thoughts anymore. He didn't resent the others at all; he only wondered why he wasn't as happy as he should've been himself.

Undeath was all he had in absolute certainty. He would never be able to survive if he ever found a way to be alive again. He'd be begging to be turned again at once. Now even that was shaken and it felt like the ground he considered his foundation was getting ready to open up and swallow him whole.

What he'd been seeking in the Halls.. he wasn't certain. Answers? Reassurance? But the King had no time for such things, nor did Traejan think for a moment that he might be so special as to receive His attention. The echoes of ghosts and malevolent old energies lingered in that place, but it told him.. nothing.

But Rose had reassured him. And he was going to be willing to try. Even if he didn't feel like being a burden, he wanted to try.

And then, when he was already down, life found another way to kick him when he was vulnerable. He could sense it when she'd first gotten hurt, could feel it through their link. See through Vittani's own eyes, even. If Rosefica hadn't been there, he wondered if he would've been able to move or if he'd just sit there, too stunned and panic-ridden to act swiftly. And that was before she was cut off from him entirely. No matter how much he tried to find their link there now there was only silence.

It was a blur after that. Dalaran. Writing to Telarion. The distant way Rosefica’s voice sounded to his ears as she helped guide him as to what to do next. His thoughts were too puzzling, too hard to sort out and put together.

Only when he overheard what Tactician Tinderfell had said that he found his anger again. His drive and his rage, all drawing from his frustrations and worry. He'd hit Tahlran, as he felt the Dragonsworn deserved, but he could see the guilt and misery in the other man's eyes. His own desperation mirrored back at him.

“She took off a ring and placed it in the ground nearby, as a marker to begin a search, it seems, but Lord Lightrend, I ought to warn you…” Tinderfell sighed heavily, bearing the weight of being the messenger here.

“Not all those cliffs are entirely sheer, from the top to the water, and where she fell from--... She could have sustained injuries too severe from the fall alone…”

A warning. But.. more than that. He didn't have to try to read between the lines much to see it. What Tinderfell didn't want to say. What Tahlran didn't want to give voice to either.

Let's not kid ourselves -- your wife is most likely dead.

This was war. Death, as he knew intimately, was a part of it. It was the diplomatic way of saying it, but someone as experienced as the Tactician was likely as familiar as he was when it came to the odds of a happy outcome to situations this dire.

Traejan Lightrend always put up a fight. Stubborn to a fault. But when he tried to reach for that.. there was nothing. Emptiness. The words echoing in his mind. The look of utter devastation on Tahlran’s face..

He didn't realise he fallen until he'd hit the ground. Hard. Sitting there, on the spot. His eyes looked dull and he said nothing.

If Vittani was dead, the last things he'd said to her had been lies. He'd never see her again. The dreams and hopes they'd had would be utterly dashed. Had that been why she'd talked to him about getting properly married or reiterating how much she loved and needed him? Had she sensed this somehow? There was a certain sense of finality to it that he'd noticed.

It wasn't as if he didn't want to fight. He wanted to rush outside and fly to where she'd last been seen. He wanted to call in ghouls.. other Knights under his command. Whatever it took. He wanted it more than anything.

So why couldn't he move?

Paralysed, frozen to the spot. No pleading with his father or anyone could fix this. The faces of the hunters held only despair and an uncomfortable truth. And Traejan couldn't move.

Is this what feeling truly broken is like..?

If anyone was saying anything at all, it too felt distant. He was detached. The only thing he could do was reach for his belt and his flask, draining it of its potent drink. That was clear when he dropped it beside him, empty.

I can't..

A neatly sealed letter arrives, addressed to one Lady Vittani Lightrend with her various titles to follow. The letters are written in a looping, feminine hand and is stamped in a somewhat official capacity with a seal denoting its origins in Dalaran, if the scent of lingering ozone clinging to the letter given its magical means of transport weren’t clue enough on their own.

Vittani,

I'm dictating this right now because it's easier on me, so don't let the handwriting alarm you, alright? Consider me the laziest, if it helps. It'll probably be signed with all kinds of nonsense and sound totally unlike me because my ghost writer here wouldn't even told her I made up 'Deathlord' because it sounded completely awesome but she said she's not allowed to use titles that aren't official. I'm not doing the writing, clearly.

Everything's fine and-..*a few words are scratched out*

Really? You know, if looks could kill I’d-..*more scratched out words*

She won't let me do anything but tell it like it is, so.. fine. I guess given our recent track record I shouldn’t make any attempts to do anything else anyway, but believe me when I say if I try to soften the blow, so to speak, it’s only because I care enough to try.

I suppose it was going to happen eventually, but my number finally came up and I'll be out of commission for a few days. Probably by the time you get this things will likely be better. Hopefully. Do you know how hard it is to find a good necromancer out here? I mean a real good necromancer. It's hard. And there's a lot of people around who don't prioritise the undead. Even handsome, rich ones. Judgy bastards. Yeah, I said it. She’s frowning at me so let me just wrap this up.

Try not to worry too much, alright? I know you're busy now and I know you've been very busy for awhile. Pretty sure I've had a lot worse. No one’s going to die. It’s just no fun and it’s ugly. But it’s fine, okay? At least it happened the day after my birthday, not the day of so.. small victories, right?

Miss you. See you whenever you're free. I love you and I miss the boys. At least I’ve had a little bit of good company here. I made a friend! You can meet her whenever I see you next.

Alright, so the past week had been a series of minor fuck ups. That had compounded into a far more significant shitstorm. That was likely to only intensify before it was over thanks to certain dinner dates with certain people, but he was trying to do what he could to mitigate the damage.

In typical fashion, Traejan had his usual fallback -- throw money at things. Buy expensive gifts. That also included alcohol, which he also had covered.

Gold also made sure that the courier he “hired” would actually do the job as requested. Even if technically he didn’t need to pay, he could have just given his usual condescending orders but he was trying to be nice. Traejan would have gone himself but he knew Vittani was still hard at work in Azsuna and after seeing her to ensure she was truly alright after the ordeal she’d been through he had had every intention of very personally smoothing things over but then he'd been called away to Icecrown. Which.. he was ninety-five percent certain did not improve the situation at all whatsoever.

Leading him to his current idea, which was an act of pure desperation. Vittani would probably realise that when everything showed up. Though he wasn't there, Traejan had insisted she stay in his tent at the front if she really didn't want to go up to Dalaran to find a room instead. Regardless, per the death knight's instructions she to be located personally wherever it was she'd decided to go.

'He' turned out to be another death knight -- likely one of the ones presently working under him now -- and the man had a pair of ghouls in tow to help carry things. He was the gruff, silent sort and did little more than nod and answer in single words until his work was done.

A fairly large box was delivered along with several floral arrangements. Stratholme lilies framed by other, lovely blooms to compliment them. Those were probably the highlight of this desperation, considering Vittani would be well aware of just how much trouble he would have had to go through exercising his connections to acquire the rare flowers. Lowering himself to owing Tahlran a favour, perhaps? It was entirely possible.

The box itself contained a bottle of cherry brandy alongside two smaller, flat boxes and a card.

My love,

I know I really did terribly this week and while I would like more than anything else to be there with you now in person, I hope this will at least be an improvement until I return from Northrend. I would have had these sent to the house directly, but I wanted you to see them now so you could start thinking of some ideas for yourself. You're going to need it for our next day off~

The two smaller boxes held what appeared to be two tiny costumes, clearly child-sized. The larger of the two -- obviously intended for Nysus -- was done to look like a blue dragon whelp, including a stuffed tail, scales made of a material that shimmered and wings that, if she held it up, were enchanted with a simple spell that would make them move and flap cutely. The dragon head was done as the hood of the outfit and the glass beads that made up the eyes even held a little glow.

The smaller one was a red version intended for an infant, much the same as the blue only lacking the enchantment for the wings. Instead, they were shaped to be folded against the back and the tail was longer, which would probably create an adorable affect of a tiny, curled up baby dragon.

Dear Lady Riverglint ( little-ojousama )

I’ll be brief, just in case you’re about to incinerate this letter. You remember my work in trying to oppose the Burning Legion. The situation in Tanaan Jungle has me worried. It needs to be won quickly and decisively before it gets out of hand.

I know I’ve acted like an ass in the past, but consider this a friendly warning from someone who ought to know...be careful.

That’s all for now. I’m still trying to get good reports from Tanaan.

Yours sincerely

Lord Kirenestus Duskhallow

Dear Lord Lightrend ( jaspxrjordans )

I won’t pretend we’re anything but enemies, but please continue reading a moment. You remember my work opposing the Legion. I haven’t been idle in the time I’ve been out of the public eye. This situation in Tanaan has me worried. Azeroth forces are very visibly opposing the Legion, and we’ve already spat in their eyes a few times now. I fear no matter which way this battle turns in Tanaan, for or against us, we may gain the Legion’s ire again.

I stopped summoning demons several months ago. My work now is too sensitive. I won’t bore you with the details, I doubt you care. This hasn’t been a group project since my grandfather came home looking younger than me.

Just keep an eye on Tarin and Rose, please? And if you’re fool enough to get in the middle of the fighting in Tanaan, I’ll pay handsomely for intelligence on the Legion.

Yours faithfully,

Lord Kirenestus Duskhallow

Dear Grandfather ( donovathgoldendawn )

By now, I’m sure you realize I’m not at the goblin resort in Kalimdor. I have my own home. No, I’m not going to say where. I found the messages in the crystals in your office. I know who you’ve been talking to and what you’ve become. You’re practically a demon now, aren’t you? Serving the Legion faithfully?

Funny, I know the truth and I’ve ruined my reputation so thoroughly no one will believe me.

Funny, Illidari and Legion in one family, both busy trying to win. First to the finish, I suppose.

Yours