Hey Al, Alastor- sorry…I just get lonely and sometimes like to think you would pay me mind though I know in a sea of voices mine is among the smallest. My thoughts are so cruel lately, are yours ever cruel? To yourself, to others I’m sure you have more than just a cruel thought.
See I think I’m failing again, falling again. My brain is clawing at me to just stop existing. To crawl into bed and sleep for the next eternity. I feel like a plague on others as of late. Then I also feel like they don’t know me, the person I’ve known almost ten years doesn’t seem to know me. I smile I act ok, to smoke and drink the moment the lights blink out. It’s amazing because I’m writing again, I’m drawing again, but I’m dying again. Am I only creative and alive when it feels like I’m invisible? Why can’t I be happy and able to do what I love?
Apologies dear I think I’m tired…figure a demon, especially one so well known, might have answers though I know you probably don’t.
(I would sell my soul if it meant I got to feel alive)
Darling, believe it or not, I know how you feel. Though, the way I coped isn’t for everyone. Murder usually isn’t! If you want my advice, seek professional help. I didn’t, though I’ll admit that I likely should have. But I digress. This isn’t about me. It’s about you. I realize I sound like a hypocrite by saying this but you don’t have to endure alone. I don’t say things like this often, but I implore you to reach out and find help. You shouldn’t have to live like that. Keep your smile, sweetheart. It’s your strongest weapon and most powerful defense.
Hello, my darling listeners! I have a humble request if I may. I’m doing my one good deed for the decade by reaching out to all of you to request your help for a dear friend of mine. They need what’s termed a “mobility aid” to greatly improve their quality of life as they are currently bedridden a majority of the time and I’m reaching out to you to ask that you consider either donating and/or sharing this post. The goal is $156 for a wheelchair and every cent helps! You may send me all the (terrible) jokes or (also terrible) flirtations you like in exchange and I promise to do my best not to destroy you for it. A win win if you ask me! Thank you, darlings!
((Link to actual chair below! Cashapp: $greybazzy))
Gavriyal’s entire world had been that barren stone cell, for what felt like an age. Food simply appeared, no door or slot opening. Alenras had certainly outdone himself in constructing the place to hold her between sessions of his torture of her. With no windows or doors to mark the passage of days, she had no idea if she had spent hours, days or weeks--it was either here in her cell or in her brother’s workshop.
That workshop. Rows upon rows of reagents on the walls, tools on racks and set out on trays. The table he always strapped her to was cold, always icy cold. The thick leather of those straps always unyielding, rendering her unable to do anything but lay there.
The first time she had been in the workshop had been surreal--of course, having one of your eyes carved out of your head while you were still awake had to be.
She might not have been able to see out of that eye, but the sensation hadn’t been any more pleasant despite it. She had still felt the pain as Alenras had peeled back skin, cut the tissues that still held her long-disused and somewhat shriveled and fel-scarred eye in place. Once he’d torn it free, Gav had passed out. Briefly. Gavriyal was brought back to consciousness when he had begun to carve into the bone around that eye socket. It was easy on that side; with the flesh there largely torn away when she had endured one of his previous assaults.
Alenras had carved into the bone in the entire circumference of her eye socket. He hadn’t stopped there, either. Once he’d finished his carvings on that side, he began to peel back the skin from around her good eye as well. This time, though, he left that eye intact.
The pain from it all had rendered the entire experience blurry and fragmented in Gavriyal’s mind, leaving it much like that of a nightmare. She had awakened in her cell with stitches all around both eyes, and bandaging put over the one he’d taken the eye from. Later, she had taken it off and found that he had replaced her bad eye with a new one--her full vision restored. Gav had nearly torn this new eye out of her skull, overflowing with revulsion and the feeling of such deep violation.
But she knew he would just do it again if she did.
The second time she had ended up in his workshop, it was after he had visited her again. Alenras had swiftly put her on the ground again in abrupt fashion. Again he had dragged her into his workshop. That time, he had strapped her to the table face down. He spent hours carving and etching more runes into her bones--this time the bones of her spine and the backs of her ribs. He hadn’t said what that session had been meant to improve, but when Gavriyal had healed from that surgery, he visited her again. This time, the huntress had found herself fast enough to deflect his blows, even to almost get the upper hand on him.
He had broken her arm when he finally got a hold of her. The upper arm, as well as twisting to snap her wrist. This was what heralded the third visit to the workshop.
Gavriyal didn’t know what her brother did to heal the bones he’d broken, but the hours he spent--flaying open her flesh and muscle to get to her bones--carving his runes into those bones negated any relief the healing had given. Struggling was always useless against the thick leather straps. She suspected they were enchanted, much like all of the tools her brother used. This session, it wasn’t just her arm he carved. So much more, her legs, her ribs, her neck… hours of such careful, expert surgery. Not a moment of it was tempered by any sort of pain relieving substances.
This was life as her brother’s prisoner. Surgery. Sparring. Surgery. Testing. Carving. Evisceration. Taunting, discordant conversation. Well, Alenras attempted to make conversation even as he vivisected her. His tone was nearly always conversational, amiable and somehow pleasant. Asking her about her family, about what she’d been up to since they’d last crossed swords before she became his guest. He asked about Estel, about Shalaisa. When Gav failed to offer replies, he had begun offering grotesque speculation about it all.
Often all she could offer in reply were agonized whimpers, screams and choked gurgles. Occasionally she managed to spit mouthfuls of her own blood out at him, along with a few choice expletives. When her brother’s speculation turned to Estel’s conception or to their relationship involving Valdyrr, Gavriyal made sure to include a mouthful of blood along with her insults.
The next time he entered, he brought in training swords--not wooden ones, but extremely heavy, blunted two handed swords. Their sparing slowly became more evenly matched. In the beginning it was hard for her to lift the blade he gave her, but after yet another surgery, her strength was enhanced.
Soon her cell was filled with the sounds of metal crashing against metal, blow against blow and the scrape of boots on stone. This was the longest she’d lasted against Alenras since she’d arrived, and for a fleeting moment she was hopeful that it might be the last time that they faced off. Blunted or no, the enormous blade was heavy and durable.If swung with enough force it might even penetrate the armor her brother wore.
Alenras had been wearing plate mail when he’d captured her, an iron-grey plate that was etched with spell runes--many of the same he’d carved into his sister’s bones. When he was here, though, it seemed he preferred to dress lighter. Leather and chainmail, each etched liked his heavier armor. Lighter, though it was, it was still durable and kept most blows that Gav had landed from being anything more than a glancing strike. The blade would need to be much sharper to do more than bruise. This time, he defeated her with the flat of his blade striking her head and knocking her unconscious.
At least this time she had been under when he’d begun the process of opening her flesh and skin to get at the part he wanted to ‘improve’. Though when his scalpel began to carve into the bones of her skull, she snapped back to awareness. This time, she had a glimmer of hope when one of the straps keeping her arm immobile began to tear as she struggled--but Alenras noticed this increase in her range of motion immediately. She didn’t see what he gave her to tranquilize her, but it worked swiftly enough that she was almost sure that that tiny victory had been naught but a dream.
If it wasn’t for the extra straps and stitching to repair the damage the next day she ended up on his table.
Eat. Sleep. Fight. Endure. Eat. Sleep. Fight. Endure the pain. Sleep. Fight. Endure. Fight. Endure. Sleep. Over and over and over again. Eat, sleep, fight--as though the lack of a sense of time passing wasn’t enough to warp her sense of time passing or even of reality.
The only indication she had that time was indeed passing was that her hair was growing far longer than she usually let it get. She’d been chopping it off to keep it manageable since she had been a Sentinel, not wanting to give any opponents something to grab her by. It had always grown thick and somewhat wild--but now that it was long enough that she could see it, Gavriyal was surprised to see that it was no longer the snowy white that she had always seen in the mirror. Now it was black, almost inky in its color. How long had it been changed? What had he done to alter it? What else was different?
Discovering this inspired her to examine the scars that these various surgeries had produced. The more she looked, the deeper the feeling of revulsion began to rise in her. This rise seemed to leave room for a pit to form in her stomach that seemed to gulp down most other feelings. Her arms, hands--Elune, even her fingers--all bore deep scars where Alenras had been opening them to get at the bones that formed their framework. She had no diminishing of her range of motion, but she had to look as though she had been wholly stitched together from a medley of pieces by now.
She was grateful that there were no mirrors in her cell. There was no sleep for Gavriyal that night.
Again the sounds of their sparring was filling the room. Blades clashing, scraping stone, blows exchanged and dodged. This time, several of her strikes actually seemed to manage to take Alenras by surprise, even staggered him. But still he did defeat her, pinning Gav with some effort and a knee in her back. For once, it seemed like her brother was winded as he disarmed her, and then rose from his victorious position. He was smiling.
“Fantastic improvement, sister.” Alenras said with a chuckle. “Not quite a draw, though. Now...” He set his training blade back against the wall nearest where he stood. “Are you going to walk like a civilized being, or shall I drag you out like a sack of potatoes?”
Gavriyal gave him a withering glare as she got to her feet. With one swift, sweeping motion, she brought her blade up and slashed it up from Alenras’s hip--or tried to. Her brother caught the blunted training blade in one gauntleted hand. The force of the swing still pushed Alenras back a bit, sliding him back across the floor a good foot from the energy of the blocked blow.
Gav’s lips curled back in a snarl as she kept the pressure on, staring her elder brother down. This had surprised him--but not displeased him. Her snarl was met with a smug, self-satisfied smile.
“My, my.” Alenras said, his voice nearly a purr. “We might not even need to do much more work, after all.” He said as he dug his fingers into the blade. “Excellent.”
As darkness swallowed her, Gavriyal was consumed by so many emotions. Fear for her family, anger for Alenras’s boldness, apprehension for his motives. Resolve that she would never allow him to keep her from seeing her family, her child again. The last thing she could hear was Estel’s cries as she faded into unconsciousness.
When she woke, Gavriyal was surprised to realize that she was laying on a mattress. She was stripped of any weaponry she’d still had on her person--the dagger she’d grabbed as she’d been dragged through the floor gone. The room she was being kept in was of a fair size, but barren of any other furniture--as well as no windows, and no doors. Smooth stone made up the chamber. There were no chisel marks or tool marks, almost as though the chamber itself had just been formed naturally, rather than being carved away. Her brother’s magic, undoubtedly. She didn’t want to know just how he managed it, nor whether or not his magic would keep providing her with air.
The door that opened had not been there a moment prior. There had been no noise to indicate its appearance, and none as it opened. Gavriyal sat up, scooting her back against the wall behind herself. No weapons, no armor… she was at Alenras’s mercy here and she hated that feeling.
“Ah, she wakes.” Alenras said as he entered the room, smirking at her. His body language was relaxed, at ease--even amiable. Gliding into the room as though he was some magnanimous host, offering his hospitality--as though he had not spirited her away from her home, under duress.
Gavriyal narrowed her eyes at him. The effect was not quite as dramatic, as her eyepatch was still on; so it was more like she narrowed her good eye at him. Oh, she wanted to hit him. To tear him apart--after he’d dared touch her wife, assaulted her husband and even touched their baby… “Now you have me. What now, Alenras? If you plan to kill me, can we at least make it a fair fight?”
“Always so direct, and so fierce. Even when we were children, as I recall. I dread what your daughter will be like--perhaps she’ll resemble her mother in demeanor more. We can hope.” Alenras said, smirking at her snarl in reply. “But, that is not why I’ve brought you here. I’ll dispense with the courting and frippery for your benefit.” He moved to stand in front of her, his stance solid and sure. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but recently--today, in fact--the blighted Banshee Queen has gone and done the unthinkable. I had thought that creating me was the extent of her depravity, but it seems she has yet to show her true colors to us.”
“And this has what to do with me?” Gavriyal asked, her tone flat as she moved to sit on the edge of the mattress he’d left her on. “We’ve all known the banshee has gone mad, betrayed every ally she made as well as the trust of the Horde. What’s she done now?”
Alenras’s expression changed. For a moment, Gav almost thought she could see a hint of the brother she’d known. As his features tightened and his true feelings were for a moment displayed so clearly, she could almost say she saw a ghost in him. “She has opened the way to the Shadowlands. An afterlife no mortal was meant to see.It’s how I had the power to breach their wards, to spirit you away as I did. It’s why all death knights are hearing the cacophony of tortured souls screaming and shrieking for rescue from the Banshee’s new master’s hold. She broke the damn sky… and now… I want to make her pay. For all she’s done to me. To us. To Azeroth.”
This was strange to see. The most sincere, honest thing she’d heard from her brother’s lips since they were children so many years ago. Before the Apothecaries had twisted his mind and body into the monstrosity he had become. Some part of her almost wondered if this was a sign that there was something of her brother still remaining somewhere within him. But another bit of her mind was insistent that it was some sort of manipulation, a trick to make her sympathetic to him. “I think you’d have people telling you to get to the back of the line.” She said dryly.
That seemed to amuse Alenras and his smirk returned. “That, my dearest baby sister, is where you come in. Or rather, we. You see, as much as a pain in the ass as you have been to me in the last few decades, I acknowledge that your skill with combat and hunting might rival my own. And... you are still alive. That would prove quite a valuable trait out ther. Between the two of us, I think we can jump the proverbial line.” His smirk became almost predatory, displaying his sharpened teeth.
A sinking feeling began to make its home in Gav’s stomach. “...I have no love for Sylvanas. That much is true. She destroyed both Darkshore and Teldrassil... killed and tortured countless people. She deserves to suffer.” She said, moving to get to her feet and stand before her brother instead of simply cowering on a mattress. “But I don’t trust you.”
“Nor do I trust you, Gavriyal.” Alenras said, chuckling as he shrugged. “But, trust is not needed on a hunt, merely desired. The enemy of my enemy and all that. After we end her, we can go back to trying to kill or maim one another as we please.”
“I have to agree there. But something tells me that you could have sent any sort of message to me to convey this... you saw fit to kidnap me from my home and family. What am I here for?” Gavriyal asked, narrowing her eye at him again as she stood, regarding him with her arms crossed over her chest. She was tall, even for a kaldorei woman. Alenras too was somewhat taller than the average kaldorei man, both lean and well toned... nearly evenly matched before whatever perverse magic gave Alenras his strength and agility, and spells.
That predatory smirk curved his lips again. “Well, the Banshee Queen has taken refuge in the lands of the dead. Not just the lands of the dead, but in the Maw--hell itself. You might be fierce and well trained, but you are still a mortal. You’ve seen the kind of power that opening that door has given me… and I refuse to let you hold me back, sister mine.”
Gav’s brows lifted and she tilted her head to the side slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Alenras’s hands moved quickly, abruptly. Before she knew it, his fists had struck her head and chest--first stunning her and then knocking her back. The wind was beaten from her lungs and her vision had stars dancing over it. “I have no intention of dragging you into the Maw, unless I know you will be able to hold your own. Clearly, that is not the case yet.”
She groaned, her hand going to her head. The pain was not the worst she’d endured, but the dizziness and nausea that accompanied it was most unpleasant. Suddenly, she felt hands around her ankles, and became aware that Alenras was dragging her from the room. “What?” She said, trying and failing to find purchase on the smooth stone floor as he dragged her.
“I am going to improve you, Gavriyal.” Alenras said as he dragged her through a barren corridor. There were no windows, only braziers lit with arcane light, and no obvious doors either--at least until Alenras approached a particular spot in the corridor. Another door formed and slid into the wall, silent as her cell’s entryway. The huntress was still dizzy and only half-conscious as her brother lifted her and laid her on a hard, cold surface. “Once you can match me, I will know that you are ready to join my hunt for the Banshee Queen. I think we will begin with your eyes,” Alenras added as he strapped her to the table, her arms held out spread eagle, as were her legs. “It won’t do to have a halved range of vision where we’re going.” He said as he removed her eyepatch.
“What?” Gavriyal asked, her voice a little hoarse, still breathy from his blow to her chest.
“Feel free to scream as much as you need to.” Alenras said flatly. Gav heard the snap as he applied gloves, not unlike those she’d seen alchemists wearing when brewing potions or concoctions.
That pit in her stomach was growing and cold, electrified needles of fear were driving their way into her head as he began applying some sort of apparatus to keep her bad eye open. “Alenras--” She said, starting to try and struggle in the plentiful, heavy straps that were holding her motionless on the table. No fruitful motion was possible. She couldn’t see out of that eye, even as he locked its lid open with his mechanism.
“That’s it, sister dear.” He said, snapping his fingers. A tray with what he revealed to be surgical tools upon it floated over from a nearby shelf. Another snap produced a very bright light, leaving no refuge for shadows in that room. “We have no neighbors, scream as much as you need to.” He said, selecting a scalpel and what looked to be some sort of debriding scoop. “We begin your improvement right…” Alenras brought the scalpel down and into the socket of her fel-ruined eye--prying the useless organ from its seat. “Now.” He said.
The only reply Gavriyal could give was a stifled scream of pain. Over and over again.
The day had been peaceful thus far. A lazy morning, begun with a wonderful breakfast and an afternoon nap together for Gav, Shalaisa and Estel. They all knew it was the calm before the storm; but how could they not savor it while it lasted?
Now, Valdyrr was still in the infirmary, covering for Malcolm and Jensha in their new household. Shalaisa was cooking dinner, humming to herself in the kitchen while Gavriyal was playing with Estel, sitting on the living room floor with her. The huntress had never envisioned herself married, much less a parent. But here… watching as the beautiful little snowy-haired baby girl wobbled to her hands and knees, she couldn’t picture herself anywhere else.
She was kissing Estel’s head after the baby rolled over onto her back all by herself--when Gav abruptly grimaced, her hand going to her own head--the side that was more heavily scarred. Her ears pinned back as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over her. This was a feeling she hadn’t had in blessed years since she’d last--
No...
Images of Icecrown, the sky shattering and erupting into flames flashing through her mind with the next wave of pain and dizziness--and a voice in her head. A familiar voice that made her go pale--before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed on her side beside the baby.
"Well, well, sister dear. It seems things are about to get much more interesting..."
Estel began to cry when her papa collapsed beside her--rousing Gavriyal to a fresh wave of vertigo. The huntress groaned and tried--and failed--to even sit up. A burning began in that old scar, deep in its long-healed tissues. A burning that wasn’t unlike accidentally pressing one’s hand to the still-hot embers of a campfire.
When Shalaisa didn’t hear Gavriyal trying to soothe their daughter, she put the food aside on the stove and went to check. “Gav?” Her eyes widened when she saw her wife out like a light on the floor. She raced across the room and dropped to her knees beside the unconscious hunter. “Gav!” Her first order of business was to check for a pulse, all while pulling out the guild stone they’d been given so she could call her husband. “Valdyrr! Valdyrr, help!”
Not only did Gav have a pulse, it was racing. As the mage watched, the scarred side of Gavriyal’s face--the very edges of those scars were beginning to glow a faint purple; almost like the embers of a fire on the edge of a paper. Gav groaned, one hand going to that side of her face. "Fuck.."
The infirmary had been quiet--peaceful, even. Considering it was his first true day serving the House Winchester’s infirmary, Valdyrr had been especially grateful for that. But as he heard the panic in Shalaisa’s voice; a bolt of panic shot through his being. "Shal? What's wrong?" Valdyrr called through the stone. He looked up from the stone, around the infirmary. He was the only one there! Fuck!
Her reply was tinged with tears that she was just barely holding back. Shal’s current pregnancy was making it twice as hard to rein in her emotions. She didn’t want to cause undue panic--but Gavriyal was one of the most stalwart, hardy women she knew. If Gavriyal At’Lané collapsed, it was serious. “Something’s wrong with Gav. I don’t know what to do,” Shal replied to Valdyrr, his pregnant wife sounding like she was trying not to panic. When Gav stirred, she gave a tiny, nervous laugh. “Gav! Oh thank Elune. What happened to you?”
Gav tried to sit up again and reassure Shalaisa, but another wave of dizziness went over her and she had to lay back down. "Fuck--" She groaned through her teeth. The wound began to burn more intensely and a much more bright, arcane purple."It burns..."
"I'm on my way!" Valdyrr said, rushing through the infirmary. When he spotted Jensha and Lierran--two of the Lords of House Winchester--in the foyer. "I--Jensha, Lierran--something's wrong with Gavriyal and Shalaisa, could you--" He motioned to the door of the infirmary as he made his way to the stairs.
Jensha, the younger of the two Winchesters present, nodded at his elder brother, then his brow furrowed at Valdyrr. “We’ve got a bit of a crisis on our hands at the moment.” But he quickly left to see to the emergency call from an affiliated household. Chaos was erupting throughout Azeroth, it seemed.
“Understatement,” Lierran said, but waved Valdyrr on. “Go. See to your wives.”
Valdyrr was conflicted. His duties as a husband and as a healer were at war with one another. What was he supposed to do? "...Malcolm back in the house?" He said, looking at Lierran hopefully. He couldn't leave the rest of the house without a healer. Malcolm was a fellow druid, a healer.
Lierran, the eldest of the Winchesters, reached out and squeezed his fellow Gilnean’s shoulder. “He’ll head to the infirmary once he finishes gathering up the household mages for me,” Lierran said with a nod. “Let us know if you need assistance. Go!”
Valdyrr nodded to Lierran with a grateful smile, then rushed up the stairs toward their apartment. For a split second, he was unsure that he had gone the right way. They had only just moved into the Winchesters’ manor in the last few weeks and he hadn’t quite learned the layout just yet.
Shalaisa picked Estel up off the floor, trying to soothe her, and quickly settled her in her playpen before returning to Gav’s side. “Has this ever happened before?” She asked, kneeling and smoothing some of the huntress’s snowy white hair back from the scars. Her eyes widened as she saw the purple embers at the edges of the wound beginning to flare brighter. “Gav, what’s happening? Talk to me!”
Gav shook her head a bit. "...Not like this, no." She muttered, still laying there on her side.
The last time it had burned like this was when Alenras had first scored her face with his blade. When Valdyrr had had to fight to keep the plague and necrotic spells from reaching her brain. They had been fighting to keep her brother from acquiring an artifact of considerable arcane power--a spell focus of a Highborne sorceress--and rather than allow him to take it, Gav had shattered it.
In retaliation, her brother’s plague-tainted weapon had left a deep score in that side of her face. Valdyrr had had to spend a day and a half halting the spread of that disease, having to sacrifice the cosmetic appearance of the huntress in order to save her life. The pain Gav felt now was bringing the memories of that fight for her life back to the forefront of her mind. The wound felt fresh again.
Shalaisa was terribly worried and scared, holding her wife’s hand. Her attention bouncing back and forth between Gav, and Estel. The infant was standing in her playpen and crying, distressed at her parents’ distress. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do...” She had no medical training or healing magic.
"I don--" Gav gasped softly, the purple glow at the edges of that wound intensifying as she shifted, laying on her stomach instead of her side. The pain intensified with it. She gasped as the edges began to get sharp, slicing pains. The edge of the skin began to bleed some, dripping onto the floor. That blood began to move, drawing lines on the floor around Gav. "...Fuck..." She said, her eyes widening as she watched her own blood begin to move.
Shalaisa’s eyes widened. Blood magic? She was scared and so out of her depth. “Gavriyal…” She said. Later she would be unable to keep from blaming herself for freezing. Fear paralyzed Shalaisa and she was just barely able to move in the slightest as her wife’s blood moved on its own.
Gav motioned for Shalaisa to back up. "Get away from it!" She said, worried for her. She grimaced as the wound stung and burned more, sending more blood to the ground to join the rest in making what looked to be a spell circle. Already she knew that something bad was coming, and she wanted her wife to be out of harm’s way. “Shal, take Estel--” She tried to say, but more pain tore through her head. More of her blood spilled forth to the floor and another wave of dizziness had the huntress’s vision swimming.
There was their door! The manor was constructed carefully. Each ‘room’ was actually an apartment--sometimes a full house to itself--and thus allowed the Winchesters to host other full families within their walls. It had been that which attracted them to their house in the first place. When they had approached Valdyrr to become one of their healers, it seemed an obvious yes.
He burst through the door. "Shal? Gav?" Valdyrr called out, looking around for them. The worgen could smell blood, and his hackles began to raise even more than they already had been. Gavriyal’s blood. He’d become familiar with that scent, with as many battles as they’d been in together.
“Val!” Shalaisa cried out for him, looking like she didn’t want to move away from Gav. “Help!” Tears she had been just holding back were spilling out as she looked to the entry to their living room for the druid’s arrival.
As he rushed through their hallways, Valdyrr felt his form shift. His family was in danger from an unknown threat, and it was all he could do to keep his human form as he ran. There was a foul, arcane magic in the air, making things feel static-charged. Valdyrr remembered the last time he’d sensed that magic, experienced it, and knowing it was there with his wives and baby...
"Shal, get away--" Gav said through her teeth. Her vision was swimming, her stomach rolling, and it was a battle to stay conscious at this point. Then the deepest pain came--feeling like a spike going through her head. Had she still a working eye in that socket, she doubted she would have been able to see out of it at that point--Gav knew it was too late.
As some more of Gav’s blood pooled, it moved slightly, forming another spell circle. That purple glow intensified into a flash once the circle was completed, and the liquid moved up, forming a figure within its circle.The form that it took was a very tall, nearly eight foot tall Kaldorei man. He was gaunt in his face, a gauntness to his entire being. He was well toned, well muscled and his outfit accented that very well.
He wore plate mail with a robe over it like a jacket. The colors were an iridescent silver for the plate, with trim in a dark navy. The robe was of similar colors--but veins of that deep arcane purple as trim. Arcane runes were embroidered into the trim, and etched into the armor he wore.
As he stretched, his white hair fell back from his shoulders and then framed his face as he stood straight once again. His eyes were glowing a pale lilac in color, accenting the dulled lavender tone of his skin. As he smiled, Shalaisa felt a coldness in the pit of her stomach. Their intruder was pleased to have made it past the Winchesters’ security wards.
Alenras stretched and chuckled. "Seems like an age since we last saw one another, Gavriyal..." He said, tilting his head to crack his neck some. He stepped out of his spell circle and straightened his robe, brushing off his sleeves. That motion was almost certainly purely dramatic as his entire being was immaculate. “Interesting… this place is far more protected than your last residence was. If the Banshee hadn’t broken the damned sky, perhaps I’d never have been able to reach you here.”
There was no resisting the change this time. Valdyrr bristled, snarling as his worgen form burst forth explosively. The bastard had threatened his family and friends, invaded their home! “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, but you are leaving BLEEDING--!” Valdyrr roared. He was not an aggressive man in the slightest, but the wild side of the druid was out to play as he lunged for him.
“Val--!” Gav said, still pinned down by the crippling vertigo and pain that her brother’s spells had given her. Thankfully she wasn’t bleeding any longer, but the edges of that old scar were still glowing the arcane purple--new marks burning into the edges there in the form of arcane runes.
Alenras raised a hand, and a ball of arcane energy formed quickly in his palm, striking the worgen in the chest to knock him back into the closest wall--and held him there. The smirk he wore wasn’t directed at anyone in particular. He hadn’t even needed to look at Valdyrr in order to repel his attack. The smirk was wicked, almost a smug sneer. The expression faded as he looked over at Valdyrr. He looked far more displeased--perhaps even bored as he regarded the healer.
"I see you still have the dog." Alenras said dryly. “Honestly, sister dear, you must cease bringing home every single stray you encounter!” He said-- before his eyes went to Shalaisa, widening in surprise. He stopped short, and then approached the mage.
"...My, my. Who have we here?" He smiled--surprisingly personably-- and reached forward to lift Shalaisa's hand to kiss it. "Charmed and enchanted. It seems Gavriyal and I have more in common than I thought! Sister dear, you have impeccable taste in women."
"Don't... you dare touch her--" Gav snarled, glaring up at him from where she lay on the floor. She fought to get to one knee even as the room spun in her vision, reaching for the knife she'd taken off her belt and laid on the coffee table before she'd gotten down to play with Estel. "Rip you to SHREDS--!" She said through her teeth as she watched him kiss her wife's hand.
Shalaisa was afraid and it showed, her hand trembling as Alenras held it. As gentle and charming as his touch and his manner was, it was impossible to ignore that this stranger had singlehandedly incapacitated both of her spouses. Shal tried to take a step back and take her hand back from his grip--but as gentle as his hold was, it was also unyielding. As Alenras’s gaze met hers, abruptly Estel gave a despairing wail from her playpen. Shalaisa’s ears pinned back and her eyes went to her daughter immediately, as did Valdyrr’s and Gavriyal’s.
Alenras's brows lifted when he heard Estel. "...What..." He released Shalaisa’s hand and followed the noise to its source and regarded the baby curiously. "...Wonders never cease." He murmured, reaching down to pick up the infant.
Shalaisa tried to beat him to the playpen, but she just wasn’t quick enough. He had to be using magic to augment his speed. It seemed as though one second he was beside Shalaisa, and the next he was holding Estel. Tears were welling in her eyes as she watched this intruder handle her child.
Gav managed to get to her feet, grabbing the knife. Elune bless, she had to put all of her strength into just staying upright--but she couldn't leave the circle that had formed, fighting as arcane chains formed and lashed around her arms, shoulders and legs, pulling her back down to her knees.
Valdyrr struggled as well, his own chains having formed when he’d hit the wall. “Gav… Gav…” He grunted, trying to get her attention, get any indication that she had a plan--a way to break free! She usually did!
Alenras carried Estel into the hallway, ever so gently bouncing her to try and soothe her. "Is she yours?" He asked, looking at Shalaisa. "An exquisitely beautiful child, from an equally exquisite mother." He chuckled as he adjusted his hold on the squirming infant.
Estel didn’t know who the man was but she could tell her parents were upset and scared. And that the man holding her was a stranger. She kept crying. She reached for Shalaisa, her little hands splayed out desperately as she tried to reach her mother.
Shal gave him a small, strained nod. Tears slid from her filled eyes with the motion--she hadn’t dared blink as she watched Alenras with Estel. “Please…” She whispered, holding out her arms for her daughter.
Alenras quirked a brow, looking at Shalaisa and then to Estel. "...I'll be damned... Yours…” He looked over at Gavriyal where she knelt. “By my sister, I'm guessing? I can almost scent the magic used..." He said, smirking. He shook his head and sighed wistfully as he looked back at Estel. "If only we didn't have a schedule to keep..." He handed her back to Shalaisa at last, his touch surprisingly gentle with the baby. "I would love to get to know you both better. But sister dearest and I have places to be." He stepped back into the spell circle he'd arrived in and snapped his fingers.
Shalaisa took the baby and backed away from him quickly, clutching her daughter to her chest, kissing her head and running her hands over the infant. Instinctively, she was checking to be certain that her precious daughter was unharmed.
“You let her go--” Valdyrr tried to snarl, but one of the chains that had wrapped around him constricted around his neck. He was bound in such a way that he couldn’t even try to pry the metallic noose enough to get more breath.
“Down, mutt.” Alenras said flatly as he made his way back over to where his spell circles were. His manner was baffling--as though he were simply stopping in to visit. Perhaps to return a borrowed item, or to chat. The magic of his spells brightened as he stepped into the circle he’d initially emerged from. Runes in his robe and armor lit up to match them.
The chains that held Gav glowed with similar runes--and began to drag her down to the floor again. And then through it, into darkness. The sensation was awful--numbing and cold and yet it burnt worse than any fire she’d been clumsy enough to touch. She fought hard, but it was too much. The chains were strengthened by whatever catastrophe had lent her brother such power. Her companion pets were resting in the Winchesters’ stables with the mounts and other companions and she had been simply resting at home. No armor, no protection save what the house itself had provided. The huntress was completely disadvantaged and unprepared for this and all she could do was pray she would be the only one that would pay for it.
She wanted to tell Shalaisa not to worry, to keep Estel safe and sound. She wanted to tell Valdyrr to be strong, to know that they had strong new allies in their new home and that everything would be all right… "Shal--!" She cried out as she was dragged through. That was all she managed before the darkness swallowed her.
Whatever her brother had planned, wherever they were going, Gavriyal knew she was to face it alone. And that was a small comfort. At least the others were safe at home.
why all this hate between void elves, blood elves, nightborne and night elves…all elves are twinks…embrace ur shared heritage instead of embracing ur hate
One day I read that Lor'themar and Liadrin have romantic feelings for each other (it was a canon story from Blizz) since then I’m waiting to see something relative to that fact in game, because I think Liadrin & Lor'themar are very independent, strong and very dedicated to their people. They’ll be a perfect couple who can stay far away from each other and still be heroic/leaders/strong/independent characters (not like Malfurion&Tyrande).
