I really have to go to bed now because its almost 4am and I have stuff to do later. I'll do replies when I get the chance. uwu

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Today's Document
Cosimo Galluzzi
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@ask-king-wrynn
I really have to go to bed now because its almost 4am and I have stuff to do later. I'll do replies when I get the chance. uwu
"They’re fast, faster than you can believe. Don’t turn your back, don’t look away, and whatever you do… don’t blink."
He didn’t fully understand what they meant. The Legion was his first guess, but…
"What… what are you talking about, champion?"
“Who?” He asked, sounding more anxious. “You’re not being very specific you know…”
"The Weeping Angels, mon ami." He says, white eyes glinting. "I was only told to warn the mortals of these creatures. And that they’re after you.”
"Weeping Angels? Pft. They're just myths," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. He'd read something about them once and he didn't really believe it. He was now beginning to question those beliefs.
"Hurts, doesn't it?"
Varian’s hand lay over the wound, a few inches from his heart, and it pressed down hard, pathetic attempts to slow the bleeding down just a little. A few feeble coughs escaped, portions of blood coming with them, which he spat immediately onto Arthas’ boots.
"It does," he admitted. "But I’ve had worse."
He lightly grazed the underside of Varian’s chin with the sword, smirking all the while as he held his gaze. There was nothing more rewarding than seeing his childhood friend in the same position as his enemies: sentimentality did not affect him, and thus he was not weak.
"What are you going to do? Haunt me?" He stood, dropping Frostmourne slowly to his side. "I’m sure the little wouldn’t mind an old friend of Daddy’s dropping by, would he?"
"I'm warning you, Arthas." His voice was still trembling, but there was clear anger in his voice. Varian managed to pull himself to his feet, a little unsteady, and still clutching at the wound, but he wasn't dead yet. That was a good start.
"I will slay you where you stand before you get to Anduin."
prince-menethil replied to your post:"Why are we in a graveyard?"
yOU DID NOT JUST
wrathofthelichqueen replied to your post:"Why are we in a graveyard?"
*ugly crying*
"What’re you doing?"
"Nothing," he said quickly, shoving the papers hastily into a drawer and blocking it defensively. "Nothing at all."
"No, you were doing something," Zeliek said, trying to get around Varian, "What are you hiding?"
"It is nothing!" He insisted, shuffling around until his whole body blocked Zeliek from the drawer. "Just- nothing! Why are you even here?"
"Why are we in a graveyard?"
"You asked to see my wife, did you not?" He smiled vaguely as he ran his index finger over the golden plaque. "She’s here."
"They’re fast, faster than you can believe. Don’t turn your back, don’t look away, and whatever you do… don’t blink."
He didn’t fully understand what they meant. The Legion was his first guess, but…
"What… what are you talking about, champion?"
"I dunno, but I was told-" Ghost makes a clawing motion. "-They’ll get you when your backs turned."
"Who?" He asked, sounding more anxious. "You're not being very specific you know..."
"Hurts, doesn't it?"
Varian’s hand lay over the wound, a few inches from his heart, and it pressed down hard, pathetic attempts to slow the bleeding down just a little. A few feeble coughs escaped, portions of blood coming with them, which he spat immediately onto Arthas’ boots.
"It does," he admitted. "But I’ve had worse."
A smile cracked his face, his head tilted slightly to the side as he watched Varian’s feeble tries to keep himself alive.
"Worse, Varian?" he whispered, bringing the blade underneath his chin, "are you sure about that? Shall I ask little Anduin for confirmation, seeing as you won’t make it long enough to tell me yourself?"
Reluctantly, he let Arthas tilt his head upwards, and met his dead eyes, scowling angrily back at him with half-lidded, bloodshot eyes.
"Stay away from him." His voice trembled and broke as soon as the words fell from his mouth. "Stay away from him!"
"They’re fast, faster than you can believe. Don’t turn your back, don’t look away, and whatever you do… don’t blink."
He didn’t fully understand what they meant. The Legion was his first guess, but…
"What… what are you talking about, champion?"
"Hurts, doesn't it?"
Varian’s hand lay over the wound, a few inches from his heart, and it pressed down hard, pathetic attempts to slow the bleeding down just a little. A few feeble coughs escaped, portions of blood coming with them, which he spat immediately onto Arthas’ boots.
"It does," he admitted. "But I’ve had worse."
"What’re you doing?"
"Nothing," he said quickly, shoving the papers hastily into a drawer and blocking it defensively. "Nothing at all."
Send my muse one of the following to see how they react:
[ credit to talk-to-tennant ]
"Is— is it meant to be bleeding, that much?"
"Help me."
"Don’t touch me!"
"You’re a monster."
"Why are we in a graveyard?"
"How long’s it been?"
"Do you even know what you’ve done?"
"Tell me you’re sorry."
"Do it for me."
"They’re fast, faster than you can believe. Don’t turn your back, don’t look away, and whatever you do… don’t blink."
"Good luck."
"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."
"Hurts, doesn’t it?"
"Oh, yeah. It does suck when someone says one thing and does the other, doesn’t it?"
"I’m scared."
"I need a doctor."
"Can I help?"
"Excuse you."
"What’ve you done?"
"What’re you doing?"
"How old are you?"
"That’s not how you use it…"
Father, would you like to play a game of chess with me?
Varian rolled his eyes at the prospect of another humiliating loss at that dreadful game, but he conceded with a bright grin. “Certainly. Perhaps the practise would do me well.”
"Are you sure?" He asked gently. "I know melee isn’t your forte. You know I’m more than happy to play chess if thats what you’d like to do."
Anduin grabbed his hand, eyes shining. “Yes! Let’s play chess, father! I’ll even let you get a head start!” He grinned.
"Even with a head start, you'll still win!"
Varian smiled to himself as an enthusiastic Anduin pulled him down the empty halls; he couldn't help but be reminded of when his son was so much younger and smaller. It didn't feel like too long ago he had to chase him down the same halls when he first learnt how to walk. Strange.
"You!" The young prince's furious voice sounded harshly off the walls of the keep, though the strange crack to its tone indicated the topic of this conversation was likely going to be far from impersonal. He stormed towards Varian, looking as distraught as he did angry. "How /dare/ you!" -w
Varian sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose out of partial frustration. Still, he wasn’t exactly surprised by this outburst - confused, If anything. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand what you are referring to,” he mumbled wearily, giving the prince a rather blank look.
"Ahh… well, yes. I thought you said the point wasn’t to hurt you?” He laughs, though it seems forced and a little nervous. “I’m used to aiming to kill, King Wrynn, and although I know it’s not the first time one of my flight has assaulted you with such an end in mind, if it’s all the same to you I’d rather not bring about your end. It’s certainly not politically advantageous, let alone necessary, and killing unnecessarily can get far more messy than not doing so.”
"Hm, I see. Perhaps you are right. However, should you change your mind, you know where to find me," he smirked. Strangely, a part of him was disappointed his offer had been turned down, though hopeful that he might one day be given the chance to see what exactly Wrathion could do.
"I do quite enjoy a challenge."
Heavily considering deleting this blog. I will see how I feel over the next week or so, but if I do decide to, you've all been great. Thank you.
"You!" The young prince's furious voice sounded harshly off the walls of the keep, though the strange crack to its tone indicated the topic of this conversation was likely going to be far from impersonal. He stormed towards Varian, looking as distraught as he did angry. "How /dare/ you!" -w
Varian sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose out of partial frustration. Still, he wasn’t exactly surprised by this outburst - confused, If anything. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand what you are referring to,” he mumbled wearily, giving the prince a rather blank look.
"No," he shook his head, "you don’t set out to intentionally harm the other person during a spar. So I would say it is rather different."
He thought for a brief moment, before slipping an eager grin onto his face. “Perhaps we could see how well you fare against me,” he beamed, looking strangely enthusiastic. “If you would like, of course.”
He slumps forwards and groans. “I don’t feel like losing to you, I’m afraid, and without use of my magic or usual weapon, I doubt I’d come close to winning.”
"Are you sure about that?" He asked. "I've heard a lot about you, namely from people who have worked with you. Exceptional strength, was what one of them said."
Father, would you like to play a game of chess with me?
Varian rolled his eyes at the prospect of another humiliating loss at that dreadful game, but he conceded with a bright grin. “Certainly. Perhaps the practise would do me well.”
"We could do something else as well, father. Perhaps…" his face scrunched up, "practice melee."
"Are you sure?" He asked gently. "I know melee isn't your forte. You know I'm more than happy to play chess if thats what you'd like to do."