#windwind

Tyrande (pulls slyvanas into a kiss. Wraps her arms around her and presses there body's together)

Sylvanas (falls backwards letting tyrande lay against her.)

Tyrande (moves down to start kissing slyvanas neck)

Sylvanas: I have a hobby.

Thrall: Making Alliance women wanna hatefuck you isn’t a hobby.

Sylvanas/Tyrande • Rated: E

The night’s fury waned and dimmed, leaving nothing more than a flickering light where the moon’s radiance once raged and blinded. The sudden darkness left the elf feeling empty and cold, and as the illumination within her faded, shadows began to creep inside of her like a sickness meant to rot from the inside out, and Tyrande Whisperwind screamed.

The banshee smiled. It was almost lazy, as though with her back in the dirt and hands wrapped around her throat she did not have a care in the world, and a part of Tyrande ached to tear her neck out— to use her teeth, to shred Sylvanas to pieces and go absolutely feral because she no longer felt elven, she barely even felt like she was alive. She existed for a singular purpose now; she was was a vessel for her people’s retribution, survived the harrowing process of becoming the Night Warrior to bring the Kaldorei peace through her vengeance, and yet the moment she was to be allotted the satisfaction of closure, it was ripped from her by the one entity that she trusted, that she loved and had devoted each breath of her very existence to.

“Mother Moon— do not forsake me,” Tyrande begged, the words forced from the back of her throat by the devastation that poured from her soul. This could not be; what purpose could the banshee serve for Elune to see fit to rob her of the justice their people deserved? No, there could be no reasoning— their goddess would not do this to them. There must be some disconnect whilst in the Shadowlands, an instability in the Night Warrior’s essence that was briefly struggling to keep hold inside of her. She would come back, Elune would not abandon her, this could not be…  “End this!”

Sylvanas had a hold of her wrists, and as Tyrande’s strength waned the banshee used her own imbued powers to remove her hands from her throat, as in the end they were both just creations for another’s will— except now, Elune’s will did not align with her own, and Tyrande had to rely on her own righteous fury to fuel the justice she had passed through the veil to serve as she bared her fangs, using the banshee’s diverted attention to her mouth to allow herself to slip from Sylvanas’ hold.

It did not last.

brb getting my dirty lesbian hands all over your faves

-

Her interloper may have thought she was being quiet—and to most she probably was—but the foresthid nothing from Tyrande Whisperwind. Small nocturnal creatures would normallywander in and out of the bramble around her; but instead, all was still. Theowls were silent, the breeze moved differently around her, billowing, disturbed. She had company.  

Eyes still closed, legs still crossed,Tyrande took a breath. “I know you’re there.”

It was a moment before she heard someone sigh.“Of course you do…” The voice drippedwith sarcasm. “I suppose one of your little mice or little birds came to tattleon me?”

Sylvanas.

Me, thinking: a WindWind situation? A Tyranas situation? Wut?