#voidsarrow

MUN RELATED SHIPPING QUESTIONS! / accepting 

2. NOTP(s) for your muse?

   Azshara/Tyrande. I’ve seen that somewhere and like… that wouldn’t work. I don’t know, I don’t understand it and I don’t think I like the idea of it so I guess it is a notp. I don’t feel strongly enough about other ships that I’ve seen to place them here though so that’s it aidufhasidu

10. A ship in your fandom you love (that does not include your muse)?

(wiggles eyebrows)

𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗄𝖾.

     there is a moment - a flash, like lightning streaking through the dark in a jagged bright wound, and wait a moment - two - three - the lion roar of the thunder vibrates through the castle stones, and there it is.

     the quick patter of feet on stone. the midnight creak of his door.

          a voice: “arthas, i’m scared, arthas, the storm -”

     and he does not even think, does not hesitate to roll over and offer his hand to the slight figure scrabbling up his childhood bed and hoist it over with all his great five-year-old’s strength - and he thinks even less to wrap his arms around the little shiverbug which burrows into his side like a worm, like a maggot - 

      In the gilded halls of Stormwind Keep the gentry twirled and tangled, fine gowns brushing over marble floors as patrons sipped aged Darnassian wine --- barely a comfort since the fall of Teldrassil --- and kept their topics light and focused to local politics. Some might find it absurd to mingle in such a manner amidst the growing tensions of the factions, yet the Stormwind court was still expected to function, and there was still a king who lacked a queen. If the gaggle of young ladies was anything to go by ( to be so innocent as to assume they had secrecy! ) it was all a very exciting affair, and one that Tess was content to watch... completely from the sidelines.

      In her defence, she had made the necessary appearance --- donned herself in lace and satin as to be wholly satisfactory -- but, with wine in hand and her back to the wall, the Gilnean princess kept to the shadows cast by high walls and lofty chandeliers; content to the hum of conversation she was not privy too. That was, at least, until the eerie shift of darkness had her turn her head to the behold her company --- her note of surprise momentary before it bloomed into an amused smile.

        it  still  gave  pause  to  the  high  elf,  however,  when  she  stood  before  the  rift  that  had  been  left  open  for  her.  in  hindsight,  perhaps  she  should  have  offered  for  the  other  to  come  to  Dalaran  instead.  perhaps  she’d  have  regretted  it,  too,  had  a  familiar  face  not  been  standing  to  greet  her  the  very  moment  she  reached  the  other  side  of  that  tear.

        ❝  I  hope  you  don’t  plan  to  make  a  home  of  this  place,  sister...  at  least,  not  a  permanent  one.  Lady  Sun  would  become  a  rather  defunct  nickname  if  it  was  so.  ❞  though  her  lips  curved  into  a  smile,  there  was  truth  to  her  statement.  she  had  only  experienced  a  place  like  this  a  handful  of  times;  to  say  it  was  discomforting  would  be  putting  it  lightly.

     Fascinating how swiftly revulsion pools in his belly, how this stomach which has not known food in years roils, how the throat fills with an acrid taste he cannot swallow back. A headache blooms to throbbing life in his temple, familiar and yet not, as this amalgamation of so many nettling irritations demands attention and holds it. 

     Yet another WIndrunner comes at him in a righteous shrieking fury, voice and spirit edged by tar-black Void that is not quite but so nearly reminiscent of the beast in Ulduar, and it is annoying.

@voidsarrow for a very old meme!

       There is wisdom to her words, that much is certain — and, though Tess is loathe to admit the truth, the gravity of Alleria’s statement weighs heavier than her call for peace. There is no peace for those who live after. A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort. A solider forged from war considers grief a comfort.

       It did little to soothe her. Not in the way her nails made half-moon indents against the skin of her hand; nor the way her jaw ached from how she set it. She thought about the warring hearts of her people; her father’s rage, her mother’s inconsolable wailing. She thought about her own heart, how it armed itself with steel and iron, until the very foundations could barely be seen beneath. Was it the dead who were lucky then? They did not contend with the aftermath. It was not on them to try and rebuild.

Speculation on Elisande’s part; especially as she had already overstayed her welcome aboard the ship, within the cabin. Titans know she’d never traverse Boralus in person; not unless she liked fifty arrows in her back and a guardsman’s spear for good measure.

But, a projection was easy enough, especially when all she wished to do for the moment was converse rather than exchange physical goods. The faintly purple image of her likeness squinted, adjusting one leg over the other in her seat -- Alleria’s seat -- and settled her hands daintily on the propped knee.

“Let us skip the bewilderment and the accusations of my presence here. We all know that is barely even worth the interest of thought when you,” Her gaze sharpened, keen, hawk-like. “Walk hand-in-hand with that of the darkest path. I do not mean to patronise when I ask if you understand even a fraction of the void at your disposal.”

Once she received an answer to that, if any at all, then she would begin unleashing her questions. She wouldn’t want to overwhelm her, after all.