From Darkness, You Shall See Light

Former Scarlet Inquisitor - Zealot - Hand of the High Priestess

[wyrmguardsecrets]

If your character has self harm scars, you are a shitty person. Stop making art pls thanks.

.

[annaliseharlowe]

if a character has self-harm scars, then there’s a chance they suffer from a mental illness like depression, ptsd, anxiety, &c.

nobody is a shitty person for making realistic characters and/or for finding a means to cope with their own mental issues through creative endeavors, nor are they a shitty person for expressing it in varying art forms.

[handofvengeance]

[morganadrake]

@handofvengeance @veign-meridian @visceryn @the-houndmistress

[morganadrake]

@handofvengeance

[lightsong-legacy]

Quelity Desserts is opening its doors once more! After a long hiatus we are here to supply all your Thalassian treat needs. Debuting our new spring menu along with our rotating entrée items! Don’t miss your chance to taste of the bounty of Quel’thalas! (Now that life has calmed down, I am returning to a more regular schedule for the shop! It is hosted on MG now days until I can get a better schedule to run twice a week, but an anchor is available if needed! Hope to see you all there)

[handofvengeance]

“Boon”

[Trigger warning. Self harm, slight ‘gore’.]

A crimson stream steadily cascaded across the cobblestone floor, tears of penance washed away what sins they could, yet, they paled in comparison to the lake of lifeblood below. Ever the reminder that his sins were far greater than any solace a scripture or prayer could provide. He had perpetrated the unthinkable. How could he ever take such a forsaken boon? How could he ever let his lusts outweigh his convictions? His own blood, tainted with that which he was destined to rid this world of. Forsaken he was, as he etched his faith unto his very being, skin lacerated with the words of his forefathers.

“Tu non cades in temptationem,” “Thou shalt not fall to temptation,”

"Non eris in perpetuum fidem tuam in luce ponere,” “Thou shalt forever place thy faith in the Light,”

Forever would he bear these scars, symbols of his credence everlasting, which he ritualistically carved unto his forearms. Bared teeth and muffled groans filtered through the chambers and into the hallways of the monastery, agony riddled every note. Not a word spoken but that which he wrote, “Tu non cades in temptationem, tu non cades in temptationem, tu non cades in temptationem.”

The blade fell from his hand, into the pool below. His wounds seeped with life essence that he no longer desired to have. Better off he thought he would be without such corruption to coerce him away from the Light. It was not until he laid eyes upon her that he would feel his sins truly begin to wash away, and only she could ever take them away. Silvered hair and silvered eyes, similar to he, she walked from the ramp above. Hand outstretched to caress his cheek, he leaned in to accept. “With this boon, my Ignis, we will wash the plague from our land. Together we will achieve our destinies, but you must trust in me, as we trust in the Light. For it shows me the way. This is the way.”

[ @morganadrake @veign-meridian and any others in the guild! ]

[handofvengeance]

Total darkness had befell the sanctuary that night, almost as if it were magically enhanced to be just so. The events of the night had been as much chaos as Aerick had seen since his return to the Order. He laid in a bed not of his own, a figure tangled into his side. His fingers brushed through the seemingly asleep person’s light colored locks as he stared up to the ceiling above. Those visions of his own, while not the worst he had ever witnessed, still haunted him, as they would haunt anyone of their right mind. His own people, butchered and slaughtered right beneath his nose, and he could do nothing of it. Aerick shifted his head so that he might press his lips unto the forehead of the individual in which he shared a bed. Nothing more than a quiet hum and the shifting of their form was offered in return. He took this opportunity to, as steadily as he could, slip from their hold and maneuver himself to the edge of the bed.

One hand strayed upward and ran through his silvery white hair, only to then come back around and strike downward against his face. A quiet sigh escaped his lips as he gathered himself and eased his way off of the bed top. His first order of business, dress himself. He donned nothing more than a loose fitting shirt, black trousers, and his black knee high boots. Just as quietly as he left the bed, he slipped from the room and moved soundlessly through the dimly lit halls of their holy refuge. In the distance he heard the sounds that he had expected growing louder with each step forward. The hushed whispers of men, women, and children alike faintly echoed throughout the open chamber of their main hall. The sight that he saw upon his arrival was not one that he had wanted to see, but one that was necessary. Guardsmen and their families all huddled in their respective groups as hooded men went from sect to sect and offered them bread and water. Aerick’s features grew grim, and soon enough twisted with anger.

Out of the ten or so men that tended the newly homeless, one strode over to the Lord and shoved his hood back. Short black hair, a handsome face, with ocean blue eyes looked to Aerick. A man perhaps in his mid twenties. “Seton.” Said the Inquisitor as he approached, “M’lord,” Began the armorclad man, “All outposts and villages of ours have been cleared. Any that remain are of our Sanguine Eyes, who lingered to search for any outliers.” Aerick nodded in response and shifted his gaze to the people, “See to it that they are fed, kept warm, and have a place to rest their heads tonight. We will fill them in as we can tomorrow, and should we need it, we will clear out more of this place to make room. None are to be left behind.” As he finished, his silvered, hawklike stare refocused itself upon Seton, “Yes, M’lord. As you say.” And with the bow of his head, the Eye moved off to rejoin his brothers-in-arms. Aerick was left alone as he studied over the scared, confused, and exhausted people of his Order. At that moment, he vowed to make this right. By whatever means necessary.

[ @morganadrake @veign-meridian and others of the order of avalon! ]

[handofvengeance]

"Daddy!" Grayson shouted. Like a canon ball the boy launched himself onto the bed, landing with a clumsy bounce as he excitedly greeted his sleeping father. Amina was right behind the boy, having clearly lost the race to stop him from disturbing Aerick. "-Honey I told you to wait for him to come down." She couldn't help but sigh and smile warmly as Grayson ignored her for his father who he'd not seen in months. "I'm sorry." Amina chuckled. "He's missed you."

How excellent it had felt to sleep in his own bed, without any of the troubles of the outside city to bother him. The countryside was quiet and his little home tidy, thanks to his wife Amina. It was a place he had always loved, yet, never dared to settle. Especially after the resurgence of one particular individual in his life. Regardless, he was content for the short weekend that he would be home. Aerick had been expecting a greeting like this, and he cherished it. Despite waking him from his sleep, he could not help but play along with his boy. He could never be angry. As the cannonball landed on the surface of the bed, the awakened Aerick lifted up and wrapped his arms about Grayson, “Look what I’ve caught!” He said, in that typical playful tone that he held with his son. Together they’d roll about the bed, wrestling and tickling until Aerick groaned just as playfully as he had spoken, “I give! You win! You win!” He said as he fell back onto his back, Grayson on his chest. A smile struck the boy’s father and a hand strayed to brush some of his wild hairs back into place, from his face, “How I’ve missed you, my boy.” Aerick said, a look of happiness, yet pain, plastered across his features, “Come. Your mother has surely prepared us the finest breakfast in all of Azeroth.” With that, he shifted up into a sitting position and assisted his son to the ground. Grayson darted back to his mother, but beamed back to his father, who had stood and was following closely behind. Aerick pressed a kiss to Amina’s forehead as he passed and drug a palm across her cheek, “Shall we?”

(Thanks for the ask!)

[handofvengeance]

Lenore cracked a lid as Aerick returned to his chamber, swiftly rousing from her slumber with a ruffle of feathers and a few blinks. From side to side the curious raven's head swung, assessing the gloom following her master into the room like a dark cloud. Lenore hopped from her perch to the open door of her cage, cawing shortly when he merely passed without the traditional brush of a finger in greeting.

His room felt nothing but empty. The silence was defeaning, the darkness was blinding. What had he done that was wrong? It had not felt unlike any other night in which Aerick pestered her so. Yet, she cast him out like a dog. As if he were a mere pest within her presence. “Get out.” -- Those two words rang far more cold than any of the others. He closed his bedroom door, noticed Lenore and the curiosity she bore, but he did not go to her side this time. Instead, he settled himself down on the side of his bed, hands upon his knees, and stared into the abyss ahead. Nearly every fiber of his being told him to go and see her, apologize. Yet there were those few that told him otherwise. Why would he apologize for something like that? For leading on a game that he thought might be fun? Instead, she ticked like the bomb that she was and left him here, alone. His hands slowly balled into fists as he jumped to his feet, spun, and began to slam punch after punch into the soft surface below. The anger welled within for the duration of his trip down the hallway and even before. It was only a matter of time until he burst with rage. Before long, he had found himself falling forward, and then back onto his rear against the wooden floor. Lenore watched the incident unfold. And while she might not be able to tell what exactly was happening, she knew her master well enough to know he was not in his right mind. So, with a flap of her wings, she lifted off from her cage and settled down upon the floor beside him. She hopped up into his lap and settled down there, her big beady eyes peering into his soul. Aerick breathed labored breaths as he recomposed himself and studied the raven that had come to comfort him. He could not help but offer her a smile, however faint, “You would never leave me alone, would you?” Lenore only cawed back. Aerick sighed in response, “I love you, my sweet.”

(Thanks for the ask!)

[morganadrake]

VII

“…So there they stood, the desolated few. Triumphant were they in their fatigue, and wet with the glory of a crimson reprisal. The fortress had been seized at a great cost to their numbers, though victory had ultimately been attained. But- like all good dogs of war they knew; the rivers of blood would not dry that day. And the death knells ringing in the distance? It was only the beginning.”

Morgana lifted her gaze from the page as she finished reading, curious if her dining audience was still listening.

Visceryn didn’t appear done eating, though the priestess she’d brought for him to feast on was nearly finished, the girl quite obviously on death’s door with the last of her essence being leeched from her throat. 

How pale her lovely color had become. 

Morgana set the book aside in trade for a glass of red wine she’d been provided and stood up, only to wander over in casual observance to the two making no comment on her tale. Her tall black heels echoed with each step through the repurposed rectory, the marble floors catering to resounding clicks. 

When she reached the predator and prey bound in death’s coil she peered down at them, tilting her head idly as the girls’ bright hazel eyes stared up at her, pleading for help where her dying blue lips could no longer. The sickening suckle and ravenous growls of the blood-thirsting fiend bent over the priestess was married with the adage of a prayer, Morgana being so merciful as to grant the girl her last rites for her sacrifice to the cause.

“Know you bleed not in vain, Child.” She told her reassuringly. “For your life is given in service of the Light on this day. May it ferry you home now, into the eternal warmth of blessed absolution.”

Heartless and hollow to the suffering, Morgana followed up with a parched sip from her wine then walked away.

The life in the priestess’ eyes came to fade along with what was left of her color not long after, the moment of peaceful transmission from living to death being defiled by the growing viciousness of the monster at her neck. Like a cat caught in the jowls of a hound she was tugged and ravaged roughly through rabid jerks, the lack of blood left in her veins making Visceryn snarl before the ashen skinned elf tore his fangs free and thrust the girl’s corpse aside. 

“Bring me the other one!” He snapped to Morgana and rose, wiping the slick of blood from his bearded jaw with a gloved hand impatiently. She was already sauntering off though, towards the hall where the next sacrifice unknowingly awaited their demise in blissful ignorance. 

“As you wish.” She answered dutifully, then peered back over a shoulder with an arch in her brow. “Would you like a new book as well?”

The San’layn considered the question briefly, having to find a semblance of himself through the rage of blood-thirst to respond first.

“Yes… Something Thalassian this time. No more of whatever common-tongue garbage that was.”

[morganadrake]

IXII

My Ignis,

The hour is late and the grace of sleep continues to elude me in my awakened state. So to you, my soul companion who is too far to infect with the riling urgency of my insights, I will pen my words with an inconsequential cadence in this dreamless wake instead.

Once more the Light has spoken to me in your absence, it’s message as clear as the Day’s break. We had thought our voices had been too quiet, and our efforts too small, but we’ve not toiled for a fruitless summer I do feel blessed to say. No, our destiny has only begun to reveal it’s face to us, my Fire. And with the divine guidance of the Light, I’ve found the breath needed to restore the air in the lungs of our Order.

You know as well as I that it is not love that will champion us to the new dawn we seek, but the fires of the hatred we keep burning in our zealous hearts for the damned and all who’d serve them. Well, now.. it is our sister Kingdom to the South who cries out, the people there who’ve spurned us for so long finally coming to understand what it means to burn.

When you return I would have you deliver me unto them. To the war-torn and the broken, the grieving and the lost. The Light wills the lamenting of the sorrowed souls there be reformed. Reformed into one unified cry that heralds nothing but our long-awaited retribution.

                                                                                    - M                                               

@handofvengeance