Mac used her thumb to flick her tattooing machine to life, the tell-tale buzz filling the air. The humming tune of the art to come. Reaching up, she dipped the tip into the little vat that held the black ink, letting the hollow needle plunge up the pigment.
@karicharbonneau Thank you so much for sharing this scene with me. Although it has always been part of Mac’s history and backstory that she is a tattoo artist, you’re my first official victim to play out a tattooing scene with me. <3
Too large a cluster to be a constellation, the myriad stars hanging in the heavens above did, somehow, seem to form the shape of a bird… an eagle, perhaps, or a raven, wings outstretched, flying towards the West. “Maybe a sign.”
Her gaze followed his nudge, her eyes drifting back to the sky rather than her unclaimed prize. She would live to hunt those lips another day. Looking up, she saw exactly what he was motioning to. The bird in flight, soaring freely amidst the sea of stars. Each culture no doubt called it something different. Gilneans would stick to ravens. Eagles for the Stormwindians. Here in Kul’Tiras it was likely the Albatross. She heard sailors telling stories of the large bird, how it wished them good luck and good fortune on a journey… or did until some poor fool shot it. Perhaps it was the spirit of the lost albatross written in the stars.
She sighed softly. “A sign of what, is the real question. I flew away…. So why do I still feel like I’m in a cage?”
Disrespected in her own bar on opening night. Thank the gods for her own self control. The wolf inside of her stirred, her eyes abandoning their hazel hues for pools of amber. She wanted out but Mac wouldn’t allow it.
Let the elf make a fool of himself and his company. She knew she wasn’t a coward. She also knew she never said she was the best.There were countless others who were better at many things. To him, she only said that she had more experience. That wasn’t hard when one was as long lived as her.
@theruneslayer Challenged me to draw Mac’s ear because he wanted to know what manner of piercings she had. Couldn’t just do the ear, so this is the result.
Started and finished this last night. Inspiration hit me thanks to my wonderful RP partner and I wanted to capture some of the magic in this beautiful scene our characters are sharing.
The following is a compilation of roleplay scenes and canon that Mac has experienced the past few days. Bits and pieces to a much bigger story with several other characters. This is but her part in all the madness.
Wednesday, Just After Sundown
With a grin that matched her own, he turned about and spread his arms wide, an arm's length short on either end of touching the walls.
”Home.”
It was not a question. He merely stood there, welcoming her into a hug.
Home.
As the words left his lips, that low rumbling sound that was his voice called to her. Her gaze had turned from the copper tub, and although her devotion to bathtubs was a well-known secret, in that very moment, she had eyes only for him. Pale hazel eyes sought out his as she walked over to him, slowly closing the distance, stopping only when her hand could brush against his leather-clad chest.
Even through his garb, she could feel the heat radiating off of him, beckoning her closer. It was addictive and in the cool climbs of Kul’Tiras where the wind was often salty and bitter with cold. Like a warm blanket, she wanted to be wrapped in him, to lose herself to his embrace.
She was tall for a woman, long and lithe, yet he still towered over her. With the distance between them but a memory, she slipped her arms around his waist and pulled herself close, burying her face against his chest, letting his warmth envelop her. Her nails raked against his leather vest, dragging across the smooth surface.
Another barrier.
Gods, they both had so many. Clothes were among the simplest to remove, the rest wouldn’t be so easy. Mac, herself, had spent lifetimes hidden behind walls of her own making, caging herself in with her past, her loss, and her sorrows.
Tryn was among the first to see Mac for more than just the mask she wore before the masses.
He still didn’t know all of her. Just as she didn’t know all of him.
The good, the bad, the ugly…. There was still so much to learn about one another. The thought terrified her. Letting someone in. Letting him see just how broken she truly was. She was terrified to look up and see pity in his eyes. Disgust, hatred, anger-- All those she had spent a lifetime becoming numb to. The one thing that still cut deep, however, was pity.
She didn’t want to be pitied. Not by him or anyone else. She didn’t want him to find just how shattered she truly was and to start treating her like some sad and broken thing. She feared what was to come, what she would share, what he would think of her… Yet, there was a quiet peace in the back of her mind.
Acceptance.
She had spent so long hiding who she truly was that for the first time, there was someone before her who wouldn’t push to know her past. He was there, waiting, smiling with open arms, waiting for her to be ready to share a part of herself. He was like that in all things. He never pushed, he simply waited for her to be ready.
She wasn’t sure if she was, but she was damn well ready to try. If only she could find the right words.
Tilting her head back, she smiled up at him and rose up to her toes, only to suddenly hear buzzing and static-filled voices shouting from her hip. How she loathed that device. Turning up the volume, she heard others screaming over the radio waves.
Termina was being attacked. A call to arms sounded.
One look said it all, those pale hazel eyes of hers finding his balefire gaze. They had only just arrived in their new home but it was time to go. Time to fight.
Hours Later, Closer to Midnight
Mac returned. Not to the place she now called home, but to her old house hidden away in the mountains. The evening had been a blur. The battle had left her numb. The aftermath even more so.
Death. She had touched death.
The memory made her stomach turn and before she could stop herself, she was on all fours dry heaving into the thick grass. She had lost all the contents of her stomach earlier after she healed him. No.
That wasn’t him. Not anymore. She healed a corpse. Dead flesh that needed to be knit back together.
Someone like her should never heal the dead. She was no flesh shaper. No death knight. Her gifts were about life and creation. What she had done had violated the very laws of nature. You cannot heal the dead. Yet she did. She did and she could feel it like some vile toxin pumping through her veins. She did it because it was him.
Was.
Cries from the house pulled her attention from her dark thoughts.
The girls.
She had all but stolen them. Scooped them up amidst the battle and ran the moment their mother fled to their father’s side. She had heard the scream of anguish. She hadn’t seen it, but as she heard that scream, she knew without a doubt that he had fallen.
She felt her own bond to him break. Nothing like the Wolf Mother’s. No. This was nothing at all like that. This was her life duty bound to his. A promise, nothing more. Deep and bound in blood, but still no more than a promise.
Broken or not, in that moment, she fulfilled her oath. Protect his children.
She had scooped them up and fled, taking them to her house in the mountains that no one knew of save for Tryn and Gideon himself. Now only Tryn. The dead took secrets with them to the grave.
She heard a voice singing to soothe the girls. Her cousin. She had stolen the woman in a moment of dire need. She had to heal, yet she couldn’t leave the children alone. A hasty hearth to Boralus and back, yanking the woman from her office and warding her home so that she couldn’t leave magically or otherwise until Mac returned.
She had threatened the woman’s life. Her own flesh and blood and she had threatened her. Protect them with your life or die. She had barely gotten the words out before unknown magic pulled her from her home. Time and space blurred and she had been in Termina again… Until now.
Now she was home and terrified to step through that door. How could she face those two girls who hadn’t even seen their first year? How could she hold it together, knowing their father was dead?
A voice whispered in the depths of her mind. The Bitch, the wolf within her.
”Mourn him when they return him to the earth. Until then, he’s not dead.”
Mac shook her head. She was right. They had her heal his fresh corpse. They wouldn’t have done that if they didn’t plan for him to be pulled back from the beyond. She wouldn’t mourn him.
Mourning would happen only when the funeral pyre was lit.
The Next Day
She had pulled the mattress from the guest room to the living room, her cousin helping her before she was sent back home. Mac wanted the girls close, so the moment the bed was in place, she let them curl up together and drift off to the sound her Mac humming a gentle Gilnean lullaby. The moment they were asleep, Mac curled up next to Tryndan on the floor. He had been the one to pull her back to Termina. Her cousin said as soon as Mac had vanished, Tryndan had appeared and passed out on the floor.
Mac didn’t risk moving him. Instead, she kept them all close. The girls on the mattress and Mac in his arms. Her home was an indoor garden. The moment her lullaby faded, the sounds of nature sang to them all as they dreamt.
It was in the hours just after dawn that Mac heard the cooing of two very awake girls. Peeking open an eye, she saw them sitting on the mattress playing peek-a-boo with one another. She couldn’t help but smile as she propped herself up and watched them.
They didn’t know their whole world was different now.
Moving slowly, Mac inched away from Tryn and rested on the edge of the mattress, joining the game with the two girls. She used the corner of the blanket to hide her face and then when she felt those chubby hands tug, she popped up with a silly face, time and time again, filling her house full of the sound of tiny giggles.
As happened with most games and young children, eventually they tired and found something new to play with. This time it just happened to be the large sleeping worgen on the floor. Mac watched as they crawled over and turned Tryn into a furry jungle gym. He was sleeping, yet he didn’t want him to wake up suddenly so she leaned down and whispered in his ear.
“I’m going to make breakfast. Be mindful of the pups.”
Even though she hadn’t called the place home in some time, somehow the pantry and icebox were still packed with fresh foods. Either she had visited here and there to clean and restock, or there was some other magic at play. Her raven locks were a wild mane that was tangled and in disarray. Still, a simple leather band and she had her long locks pulled back and out of her face, letting it all rest atop her head in a messy bun.
Scents began to fill the air. Sweet at first, fruits and honey. Then there was the earthy scent of porridge. Luckily, for Tryn, Mac wasn’t about to force her eating habits on him. As he was stuck on the floor, drooling beneath two babes, Mac let a large steak dance across the pan before she set it on a plate to rest. She didn’t cook it. Not really. Simply seasoned and gave the piece of meat a nice sear before she set it on the plate to bleed its delicious juices all over the plate.
Eggs were next. Mac wasn’t one to skimp on breakfast and she hummed while she cooked. This time it wasn’t a lullaby but a soft tune that had a happy melody. So much had been lost the night before, yet Mac held herself together and hummed as she cooked for Tryn and the girls.
She didn’t take long. In fact, before he was in a lake of his own drool, Mac came over and gently moved the girls, one at a time, back to the mattress to free Tryn from his adorable prison. As she moved them, she brought the blankets up around them, tucking them in together so they could share each other’s warmth.
She sat there for several moments, just watching the girls doze quietly as she knelt on the edge of the mattress. It wasn’t until she pulled her gaze away and looked up at Tryn that he could finally see the hidden sorrow in the depths of her eyes. She had been doing her damnedest to hide it.
She didn’t think she could hide it from him, he always saw through her masks. There was a small smile that curled in the corners of her lips. Not one of happiness, mind you. Just a small private smile that begged him to be patient with her. She was holding herself together, but just barely. Surely he would see that.
As she rose up and away from the girls, her voice was quiet again. “Come and eat, love. I made you steak and eggs. The girls have some milk porridge cooling for when they wake. We’ll let them rest for now.”
During Breakfast
The quiet meal had turned into something so much more. While Mac thought she would hide behind the much needed satisfaction of a good meal, instead, breakfast was almost all but ignored as Tryn peered into her very soul with those balefire eyes. He watched her as she put on her mask, hiding behind it, and clutching it tightly like her only lifeline.
He watched her, and yet he couldn’t let her suffer alone.
His questions felt like a sharp knife, cutting away her protection. Making her face the horrors and pain that her mind was trying so desperately cast away and let sink into the dark depths of her memory. She realized only as she started to answer him that those thoughts were an anchor, weighing her down, pulling her into the darkness with it and he wasn’t cutting away her protection.
He was saving her from being pulled under.
Words flowed from her, they weren’t easy to say, nor to hear spoken aloud. Yet she confessed her dark thoughts one by one. The perversion of her power, how she had gone against her very beliefs. The loss she felt. The blood bond that was broken. One by one, she laid them out for him and as the last confession left her lips, she didn’t see pity or disgust waiting for her.
She saw only him, holding his arms out, waiting to comfort her. She didn’t hesitate as she closed the distance between them. The walked forward and fell into his arms, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight.
Far Too Soon
She had only just lost herself in Tryn’s comforting embrace when her com came to life. Mac listened to the chatter as it came over her radio. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Not only were they parading people through a safe house, they were demanding the children to join the circus act. What in the hell were they thinking? She pulled away from Tryn gently, but the moment she was free, there was no longer despair. There was fury.
Mac had grabbed her com and dialed in Blackstone’s private frequency. "A word." She said tersely.
"Aye." He answered after a moment.
Mac wasn’t one to sugarcoat, least of all in this. The moment he answered, she cut to the chase. "Every single person who was seen yesterday is a potential leak, intentionally or unintentionally. You're going to lead them right to the Wolf Mother. The more people that know where she is, the more at risk she is."
"I know.” He replied. “ I have a plan for it if it does happen, I promise. Please just trust me. She requested I tell them she's takin' visitors. I'll be there the whole time. I will not let her be hurt, or anyone else in this company."
Men. By the gods, how stupid they were. Tension sounded in her voice. "Oh, you think you'll be able to protect them? One man, against how many?"
"Mac. Trust me. She told me to do this."
She didn’t trust any of them. Not now. None of them were thinking clearly. "She isn't in her right mind and you know it. And you want me to put children at risk?"
"She wants her kids. Don't fight her on it. Will you just -trust- me. If you want her to stay in bed, lean with her a bit, yeah?"
Mac didn’t answer. She was beyond furious. How could they all be so blind? So stupid. She wanted to throw her com. To leave it deep in the forest and run with those two girls and Tryn. Letting them join their mother when her location was becoming the worst kept secret in Azeroth put a pit in her stomach that made her nauseous. The coms kept going off. The company line. People discussing the children.
No one would listen. No one. All they wanted was to keep the Wolf Mother happy.
Mac didn’t care about her happiness. She could care less if the Wolf Mother was miserable.
She wanted her safe. Moreso, she wanted the girls safe. She wanted the unborn babe safe. The Wolf Mother, she could take or leave. It was the children Mac cared about.
Right now, they needed their mother to remain alive. No one would listen. It would be like fish in a barrel if their enemy caught wind of their location. She barely heard the words over the com when she realized someone was being sent her way to retrieve the girls.
She was cornered, backed against the wall. What choice did she have? Kill someone following stupid orders? Run with the girls? Her mind reeled with the possibilities. She would do it. She would kill for them. She had no doubt about that. Her mind went to what would happen if she stole those girls to safety. The wolf mother wouldn’t rest. She would push herself to the ends of the earth to get those girls back. She would kill the babe inside of her to hunt Mac down.
She could keep the girls safe from a potential and likely risk… but if she did, she would be killing the unborn babe still growing in the wolf mother’s womb. That wasn’t a possibility. It was a certainty. She closed her eyes to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks.
She had to let them go.
Mac slammed her fists on the counter as her eyes flashed that brilliant amber color. Reckless fools. She looked up at Tryn, that quiet wrath bubbling beneath the surface. Pursing her lips as she shook her head, she said nothing to him. Nothing needed to be said. He had heard every last word.
Pushing off the counter, she growled under her breath as she walked over slowly to collect the girls. How she wish people would listen to reason. Instead, they knew only madness.
Soon After
Mac waited quietly outside of her house that looked like it was being consumed by the forest around it. Everything was in bloom and the lush surroundings were a veritable paradise. She was no more than twenty feet from her front door, which was open, revealing the fact that much like outside, the inside of the glass house was wild and covered in beautiful growths, bringing the wild indoors.
Mac looked exhausted, her skin paler than usual and dark circles were heavy under her pale hazel eyes. The expression she wore on her face was one of complete and utter numbness. She didn't want to feel, not in this, especially not now. While she had put on a cheerful face for the girls as she tended to them, playing with them as the hours of the day ticked away, keeping them safe and happy, that time was now over. She had two choices. Hand the children over to their mother’s pawns, knowing full well the dangers of bringing them out of hiding. Or run.
She couldn’t run. Not without risking the life of an unborn babe and countless others. So, she stood there waiting for Syana's mother, the girls wrapped up warmly, one tucked in the crook of each arm. She stood there like a sentry, simply waiting for it all to be over.
The wait wasn’t long for the woman who had come to claim them. Mac felt her presence moments before she appeared a few feet in front of her, carried to Mac’s hidden refuse by the hearthstone she had entrusted to Syana. She barely heard the woman as she thanked Mac for keeping the girls safe, feeling her take one, then the other from the crook of her arms.
It wasn’t until that weight was lifted that Mac spoke, in no more than an angry whisper.
"She is in a safe house that you are parading the entire damn company to. Every person who sees where she is a potential risk. You might as well put a bloody target on her. And now... This? NO ONE knows of this place. No one. It is safe and you are putting these children at risk."
Mac clenched her jaw. She wanted to scream but she wouldn't in front of the babes. "She is not in her right mind and you know it. And your daughter? Her husband? They're too devoted to see that right now Daria doesn't need people who will follow her orders. She needs someone to defy her and keep her safe. Keep her children safe. What happened yesterday.... will happen again.. and again... because everyone in this blasted company is to blind and too stupid to use common sense."
She took a step forward, lowering her voice even more. "Send Keantha to Pinky's Groggery. She's getting a crash course in how to be a midwife." Mac swallowed hard and exhaled a controlled breath and she unclipped her com from her belt and tucked it next to one of the girls. "Your son in law knows where to find me if there is no one else in an emergency."
And with that, Mac turned and walked away.
Seconds Later
How much longer could she hold it together? She didn’t truly know. She felt it all welling up inside of her like a great storm. One after the next, storms collided until there was only the tempest raging inside of her. She had left the woman with the girls, not even risking a glance back. Instead, she surged into her house and without a word, wrapped her arms around Tryndan moments before the Stone to The Hound’s Tooth activated.
The world titled as they were pulled from one place to the next and as she pulled away she quickly moved to an empty bloodstained table to collect herself. She refused to cry. Refused to let him know how broken she felt. She refused… and yet she splintered before him, cracks showing in that coveted mask of hers. She tried to hide, but the more she hit, the more clear it was that she was falling apart.
How much more?
With eyes closed as she breathed in deeply and forced herself to exhale, she tried to quiet her mind. It wouldn’t be silenced. She couldn’t it run from it forever. Luckily, a wet nose, a heavy nudge, and a quiet whine pulled her from the chaos.
Distractions would only prolong the inevitable, yet this distraction was one she couldn’t ignore.
Max. The large wrinkle-faced mastiff stared up at her. He had been forgotten in the chaos. Left behind in the ruins to fend for himself. His master slain, his home destroyed, his family in the winds and lost in grief.
Mac knelt down and parts of her mask chipped away. As she pet him, offering him some small comfort in all that he had lost, Mac looked up at Tryn, her bright hazel eyes brimming with tears as her lower lip trembled.
Grief was a strange thing sometimes. While Mac had little in common with the large wrinkly faced creature, in that moment she felt as he did. Alone. Abandoned by most everyone.
As she stared up pitifully at Tryn, her voice cracked as she spoke, sounding hoarse with sorrow. “Will you take him home? We can’t leave him here…”
Finally Over
She had pulled herself together just enough to pass off information to Keantha, telling the healer all that she needed to know and how to find her if there was an emergency. She thought it was over, but the worst had yet to come.
Mac was hidden behind her mask as Kari walked up to that lavish fire pit. Words cut through Mac like a knife.
Selfish.
Coward.
If she only knew. If only one of them would listen, really listen to her. Mac hid behind her mask, taking every cut. She didn't want to fight. Not over this. Not with Kari. Not with Sal who stood quietly behind her.
She didn't want to fight, yet she wanted her sister to understand. Why did none of them understand?
In the end, she did the only thing she could. She hugged Kari and walked away.
She tried to get them to hear her. To listen. They were all too lost and Mac....
((Follow along @inked-wolf for the full story; takes place between IV and V))
“Hello, My Shadow…”
—
No darker a demon could fel magicks summon, than the shadow what stirred ‘pon the sound of her voice.
—
Boralus’ rooftops had proven easier to navigate than even the tenements of Old Town, its crowded, ramshackle-style reminiscent of a Gilneas he’d never quite known. Cross sloping slate and slatted tile, along gutter and pipe, over chimney and flue, Tryndan had kept pace with the woman since the eve of their arrival.
Macaela had asked him to stay; a question more fraught with meaning than merely remaining the night in their rented room. And so stay he had, for there was nowhere else he’d rather be… though she had meant, perhaps, something other than staying -near- as she set about her business in the city.
But no matter how dauntless, he would not leave her to brave these new lands alone.
The Kul Tirans’ love for banners and pennants eased his passage across the gaps, tautly drawn sailor’s line draped from building to building in a futile effort to scare off the gulls. With catlike grace, he swung and he loped, he leapt and vaulted, slinking only when daytime afforded little in the way of shadow. Using the lines to catapult himself that much further over the awnings and tents scattered throughout the marketplace, he bound like an ape soaring through space between trees. Ropes did not fray in a city of sailors, after all, though their moorings might come undone with time. Unless one was listening for the subtle shift in wind blowing through the banners of any particular rope as it bowed beneath his weight, his passage was silent as the moons overhead.
He had let her see him, however, tucked into a cleft between chimneys, or ensconced upon the sill of a darkened attic window. Mac had been busy in this city, in some ways alien, yet in many familiar to her. But at times, in places, between her hustle from one task to the next, she stopped… stopped, and peered ‘cross the bay with a brow smooth even when troubled.
Those were the times he’d let himself be seen. Let her know, that she was not alone.
He didn’t know, exactly, what she was about; she hadn’t shared her plans with him, or much of anything beyond the bed she came home to, weary and wishing only to be held each night til sleep took her fitful form. From her travels, and her visits, he pieced together that she was seeking connections amongst the higher of Boralus’ society… and occasionally the lowest, as well. But that was to be expected, given where they’d been, and who their usual compatriots were. He was not about to press her for the details, not when she trusted he’d be there at the end of each day, his silence easing the tumult of her thoughts.
In truth, he was not particularly interested in those plans; the woman might have been young, younger even than he, but she carried herself with a poise beyond her years. Tryndan may have appointed himself her sworn protector, but he understood the truth - Macaela was -more- than capable of handling herself, and his questions would do little but distract her until she felt ready to share.
Besides, they had more important things to speak of, when the time came… and whatever trouble she was getting herself into, he would be there.
Watching, protecting, and preserving, a silent sentinel in the shadows.
This time, however…
He cocked his head to the side in the manner of a raven, seemingly about to quork in question as he puzzled out her lengthy delay. At first he thought, perhaps, she was merely thinking through her next steps, or of those that had lead her here. But when she reached up to rub her palms over either arm, it was not just to hug herself against the cold.
—
Thus, the silhouette of a large, nearby chimney became two adjacent ones as he rose from where he’d been crouching betwixt, affording her a moment’s glimpse of darkness against midnight sky, balefire eyes like stars amongst witchlit heavens. Hindclaws lifted as he surfed the slope-tiled roof down to its ledge, paws sliding silently, like padded sleighs over the curved bronze slates.
“…Macaela,” answered Her Shadow; her name, simply, and nothing more, offering a silent presence should she choose to speak, and the warmth of his body as welcomed her into his embrace.
To catch up on this mini-storyline, click the links below:
Part One - Part Two - Part Three
Also, if you would like to hear what Mac is hearing:
Ambient Sound of The Harbor
Over the past few days, she had pushed herself to the brink of exhaustion. This time, it wasn’t even from healing her reckless allies. No, this was a different manner of exhaustion. Conversations were weighing heavy on her mind. Not with her cousin. Of all the people she had come into contact with, her cousin was the simplest to endure.
It was business. No emotions. No fuss. Just business.
She walked through the seaside market, listening to the bustle of activity. Even at night, the gulls called overheard, singing their greedy song as they stalked the merchants from the skies above. Filthy little scavengers, really, but their call added to the setting. Murmurs of voices, the tolling of bells as ships set out with their cargo, the lapping water against the dock, the slow creaking groan of vessels anchored in the harbor.
It was all a symphony that sung Kul’Tiras. How she wished that song would drown out her thoughts.
She inhaled deeply as she walked, seaside scents enveloping her. The salty ocean breeze with that underlying fishy scent. Once upon a time, it would have repulsed her. Now it was simply part of her world. A day to day scent that simply rang with familiarity. So many other scents mingled in the air, however, those two reigned supreme.
This was home now.
She missed the simplicity of her old home, hidden in the mountains, nearly claimed by the natural forces around it. It felt safe, secluded, lonely.
Exhaling slowly, she let her mind begin to drift. Seclusion was something she would never find here. Not in the roaring harbor town. Too many people. Lonely? She felt that more now than ever before. Sitting amidst a group of allies, it was amazing how truly alone she felt. She missed how it was. More so, she missed Kari.
It hurt to speak to her. It hurt to stay away. Everyone loses. Especially her. Mac felt lost without her sister.
At least there was her shadow... always watching, always waiting. While it would have unnerved her before to be stalked in such a manner, there was an odd sense of comfort knowing those balefire eyes were watching her from some hidden nook, window, or rooftop.
She had been avoiding him. Not in the traditional sense. Each night, she walked home slowly, letting him reach their room before she did, waiting until he slipped into bed before she ventured upstairs to curl up beside him. She found comfort in his embrace, the sound of his steady breathing, the warmth radiating from his chest. That, she didn’t avoid.
She was safe with him. Yet, she feared the conversation she knew would eventually come. He hadn’t pressed her for it, he wasn’t like that. She knew she couldn’t avoid it forever, yet… she didn’t even know where to start.
Stopping on a dock looking out over one of the waterways of the harbor, she folded her arms across her chest, her hands rubbing the opposite arms for a spot of warmth. She knew he would be near. If she stood here long enough, he would join her.
Her mind wandered while she waited and it wasn’t until she caught wind of his familiar scent that her voice broke the silence that had surrounded her.
Now as I’m sure everyone has experienced, there are several large roleplay communities out there in the big wide World of Warcraft. Some have a set theme, others a strict doctrine to adhere to, and then there are some that are just pure chaos.
So for starters, The Outliers Network community is a roleplaying resource. A warning… most, if not all, of the moderators engage in “Criminal” roleplay. It is not a prerequisite to follow that genre though! Want me meet new contacts? GREAT! That’s actually what we’re here for. To bring people together and generate roleplay.
Too often, fantastic roleplayers find themselves twiddling their thumbs, bored out of their mind, wondering if they should wander the streets of a major city in the hopes that someone will do some manner of In-Character walk-up.
Let’s be honest, we’ve all been there.
It’s a brutal reality for us roleplayers. This community, however, will make it so that you can give a shout out to those looking for contacts, looking for roleplay, or even looking for a new guild.
Want to roleplay? Just ask!
The Rules
Sorry, yes. Every community has the basic rules you must adhere to if you’re going to enjoy the perks of membership. I promise, this will be the short and sweet version.. Not to mention blunt. Here goes:
No high impact topics. These include politics, religions, racism, sexism, or any other isms that are going to rustles someone’s jimmies.
Don’t be a dick! I don’t care what you do in-character. That’s none of my business. OOC, however, if you’re a massive dick you will be removed and sent to Goldshire where you’ll fit in.
Don’t be a pussy. This is another OOC one. If you are crying every five seconds because you think someone is picking on you, you will not find a sweet mommy to comfort you. No lie, I will tell you to grow a pair.
No ERP in the public community channel. If you’re looking for ERP, I don’t have anything against it. But this is not Tinder or a dating app. Keep it in private chat.
No God Modding, Trolling, or Meta-Gaming
This is a MATURE community. If any of the following offend you, it’s best not to join:
Swearing
Vulgar Remarks
Violence
General Heathen Behavior that makes you lose faith in humanity
And last but not least, NO OOC WARFARE. If you have a beef with someone, I don’t care. If the moderators of this community are sent screenshots or proof that one of its members is publicly attacking someone OOC, you will be removed and I will personally blacklist you. This type of behavior will absolutely not be tolerated. This community is to bring people together not tear them apart. You have a problem with someone? Welcome to Adulthood, Cupcake. You’re not going to like everyone and not everyone is going to like you. You want to act like a high schooler, I will escort you to the door.
You’re Invited!
Alright, my loves. If this is something you would like to join, click the link below:
ACTIVE LINK
This link is set to never expire and has unlimited charges. So share away to those in the roleplay community who can benefit from this. (This is an In Game Community, not a discord channel. :) )
Check this out, folks. Great way to battle the lulls or stale moments in RP. Wandering the city waiting for walk ups? Sitting there staring? This makes it easier to find where the RP is happening or reach out for others who are looking for contacts and Roleplay!
Missed Parts One and Two? Feel free to check them out on my blog! Just follow the links below!
Part One
Part Two
Natalie didn't announce herself as she stormed into her father's study, everything about her a maelstrom of emotions, anger being the driving force of the storm. Confident steps carried her over to the desk where she slammed down the stack of papers she had pulled from the business archives.
“Did you even read this when you signed those papers all those years ago? Does she know?” Her voice was quiet but the softness did little to hide her fury.
There was a low hum of annoyance as her father rose from his seat, arthritic hands reaching across the desk to fan the papers across the mahogany desktop. Picking through the pages one by one he found document her was looking for and pulled it to the top for his daughter to see. “Look at the signature. Compare it to the one you received in the letter.”
Natalie didn't need to look. She has watched the woman sign several documents, so much so, that she was creating a stamp for her to spare her hand from the onslaught of paperwork that came with new business.
“She writes like her mother?” Natalie asked, confused by the similarity.
Shaking his balding head, her father sat back down with a loud huff. “She is the same woman who invested all those years back. Her mother, I knew as a boy. Brutally murdered. Macaela actually looks more like her father. I was there when she was wed. Same woman, untouched by time. So yes, she knows. Truth be told, I never thought I would see her again. Now that’s she’s here, give her what she wants. Don’t give her a reason to take control.”
“Don--” Natalie reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, forcing herself to take a moment and count to ten before she spoke. She was rarely like this. More often than not she was calm and collected about everything. This, however, was her future and her livelihood. “She owns us. It’s all hers. You took her money and used every last copper to open our business.”
Natalie then pulled out the document she had flipped to initially. “And you agreed to pay her back after the first year in monthly installments. In the event payment wasn’t received on time, you agreed to a twenty percent interest rate. Signed and sealed by several as witnesses… And you never paid. This was four decades ago! Do you know how much money we owe this woman? I couldn’t buy myself out of this debt if I tried!”
“Oh, we won’t be paying her back. I fully intend to make sure we appease her… for now. And when I’m assured that we are her last living relatives, Lady Marley will have an unfortunate accident. There are a great many dangerous people in Boralus. One wrong turn here can have a tragic end. We will mourn her, and as her only living heirs, our future will be secured for years and years to come.”
