Champion of the Banshee Queen

Business, as usual || Nathanos + Sylvanas

“…’Interesting’? Well, if that isn’t just selling me impossibly short…”, the Dark Lady replies with noted idleness, lifting up her slender, pallid fingers in front of the sickly, flickering candlelight so she can give them a cursory examination. Most Forsaken do not bother to tend to their… post-mortem appearance, as it were, and while Sylvanas would hardly call herself vain or frivolous (she would loudly insist the contrary, in fact), she does seem to take better care of herself than most.

“I would have said ‘necessary,’ but I’ll take ‘interesting’ I suppose.” How eerie, and borderline disturbing, that the two of them can talk so plainly of the highest imaginable treason, while quibbling in a friendly manner over word choice, sealing envelopes, and examining their fingernails. … even if only one of them is doing those last two.

They would come… and we would have an issue.

Sylvanas clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth at that, wagging one of those recently-examined fingers from side to side in a correcting fashion. As the fingers on her other hand drum against the desk (barely loud enough for all but the most sensitive ears to hear, of course), she begins to speak, an uncharacteristically coy tone to her voice. “No, we would not have an issue in that case. … we’d have quite a few issues. Luckily, I do not plan to let it get that far.”

The coyness melts from her voice, replaced with a sort of… malicious cruelty, one Sylvanas greatly seems to be enjoying, as Nathanos mentions her… ‘experience’ in the area of deposition. Truly, if one is going to oust a ruler, she tops the list of people you definitely want to have on your side. She’s always got a plan, though she rarely shares it… Lucky for Nathanos, that is precisely what she’s about to do.

“It is not merely to our benefit, nor the benefit of our… beloved horde,” she manages to stifle a sarcastic chuckle, “that we see this done. I know many, and by many I mean all, on the other side of the fence would would gleefully join in this endeavor. And perhaps provide us with that nice little distracting army we need to batter itself against the gates, while the more… discerning among us slip inside, and perform the necessary deed. I think…” A small pause lingers, as she taps one finger against her lips.

“… my sister would be interested.”

Such a typical endeavour for Sylvanas to bicker over word choice and minor details more so than the severity of the task she was about to bestow upon them all, and yet it was precisely that nature which had her hardly seeing failure... in the long-run. That was indeed why Nathanos was there; he would always ensure that the small-term goals; the ground-work, would be more than covered in terms of their own well being and security. To say they were a good team would, therefore, be a gross understatement.

"Ah," He piped up finally at the mention of their possible allies, who also just happened to be their enemies. To say the enemy of their enemy was their friend was, of course, a complete fallacy. However, the enemy of their enemy could simply be a useful enemy... "That would certainly be an advantage... provided we could convince them to do such things, and when I say we, I mean something entirely different to such. Unless, of course, you already have a plan of your own, my Lady." He bowed his head in gratitude then, as he always had done before her... especially more so in undeath. Moments later the mention of something most peculiar came, and instantly it caught his attention.

"I heard Alleria had made herself comfortable here; whispers on the wind. If you mean her I can see why you would say that; orcs and her have never really seen eye-to-eye. The key word there, though, is if," He brought his hands to the desk then, watching carefully as she played with the candlelight as he spoke. "Do you speak of her? Or of the other? Or perhaps both; it certainly would be a force to be reckoned with then," He gave a chuckle then; somewhat lighthearted compared to the usual response he tended to give. The Windrunners, of course, were known for their etiquette in the use of the bow, and to have three of them would certainly have been something that could not be missed for the world. Despite such, however, Nathanos kept his responses to a minimum.

In the end, he was an advisor to the Lady; a Champion more so than a dictator.

"You leave me on edge, Sylvanas. What is your plan?"

Business, as usual || Nathanos + Sylvanas

“Naturally. What am I if not diplomatic, Nathanos?”, responds the Banshee Queen, in a friendly voice laced with the sounds of banter, one which she would not use with very many other people. Both Sylvanas and Nathanos, after their lives had ended (the breathing portion of them, anyway) were rather notoriously closed-of people when it came to emotions and the expression of them.

But they both make… exceptions. Such as for one another.

“Daring, yes. Necessary, also yes. I am beyond tired of being kept on that man’s short leash,” she hisses, her internal anger levels rising every time she’s forced to mention him, as it would seem. Her hatred of Garrosh is no secret, not even to him… After all, she has only ever made the barest attempts, in the most half-assed possible manner, to show him ‘respect.’ It’s hard to show something for someone that you simply don’t have for them.

It does what it intends to do: acts as a stronghold, and a good one at that.

“Ahh, that it does. It is will-secured against against an attack by an army, even a great one,” she begins, holding up one slender finger to accent her words. “But I am not proposing we send an army… Ignoring for the moment that we do not even have one to spare, that would be both a fruitless endeavor and a fool’s errand, leading to nothing other than great loss of life and even greater injuring of our cause. No, I am thinking this requires a bit more… discretion. And that…”

A lingering pause, as she turns herself in her chair, until she is completely facing her Champion. Pale, slender fingers splay upon both hands, which then slowly point inwardly towards her chest.

“… is where we come in. Orgrimmar is well-defended from brutes who know only how to smash their axes against gates and their heads against walls, but to rangers, who stalk the shadows, and bypass gates without smashing them? Well. It is rather poorly defended in that regard. I think the time has come for me to hand-pick the best of the Ranger Corps for this… I have been putting it off for far too long.”

"If not diplomatic, i'm quite sure we would be nothing more than burning corpses at this point. For that reason, i'm grateful for your diplomacy," A soft laugh, arguably mistaken more for a grunt, left his mouth then. Banter was often their common tongue with one another and yet, for the both of them, their tones often changed quite quickly. What was once light conversation quickly turned to serious, and meticulous, planning and preparation. What she spoke of was a serious offence, and thus failure would simply not be an option.

"What you propose is... interesting," He admitted, allowing his fingers to curl against one another then as he thought carefully. It wasn't unknown to them that Orgrimmar was only so useful. Though there was air protection, as well as grunts patrolling the mountains, some brave souls had managed to sneak in previously - though they hardly lasted long. "Orcs, especially those with Garrosh's... brash nature, to put it kindly, would expect a full-scale attack if anything. The element of surprise has never been their strong point, except to those who succumb to the shadows..." Nathanos was quite sure that the Banshee Queen had it all planned out, and yet despite such facts he felt somewhat... uncomfortable with the notion.

"What strikes me is not our ability but our numbers," He pointed out, quite clearly. "The shadows will only aide us for so long; we cannot hide forever, and if we are caught... we will have an army to deal with. Orgrimmar is covered with grunts and, at the beck and call of their beloved Warchief, they would come... and we would have an issue." He could see it now. Their plans set out perfectly; the best of the best of the Lady's beloved Dark Rangers, risking life and limb to infiltrate their own stronghold, only to be defeated by an influx of unworthy peons at the hand of Garrosh Hellscream. No... there had to be more to it than that.

"I don't suppose you expect to go into this... alone?" Was his ultimate question at that point. "Overthrowing someone, whilst something you are... more than accustomed to," In that moment he was filled with a sense of pride. Though times they'd rather not remember, he could not deny the strength she held in taking down Arthas from within his own walls; using his own allies against him. "will be more than difficult without support. Especially if the other members of our beloved Horde have signed pacts with our Warchief behind closed doors. We do not want to be outnumbered in this before we have even set off, after all."

Business, as usual || Nathanos + Sylvanas

“You would indeed be a fool to lack cognizance of these matters, Nathanos. But you are not, which is why I did not linger long upon the inquiry.” The Dark Lady places a set of slender, pallid fingers upon the missive she’s just completed, frowns a bit at the ink blot that has formed below her signature, and hastily pushes the note aside.

Remaining careful, of course, not to further besmirch her penmanship with errant blots of ink.

With the letter now out of her way, Sylvanas leans forward into her desk, tenting her fingers together as her elbows plant against its onyx surface. Her smoldering red eyes dim to a gentle grey the longer she peers downward towards the surface of the escritoire, as though the longer she allows them to linger without blinking, they become more and more like burning coals upon which a bucket of water is being poured.

“Mmmn,” she begins, her mind filling up with a tangled network of plots, schemes, and potential outcomes. The Dark Lady rarely lets a moment pass without concocting a new plan, and now is no exception. Slowly, she turns her eyes from the surface of her desk, allowing the cool grey of both orbs to meet the bright yellow of Nathanos’.

“I think what I am about to propose is both obvious, and necessary. The longer that man leads us… and I am being very diplomatic when I choose to say ‘leads us’ instead of ‘runs us into the ground’… well, the more damaged we and our cause become. His recent petty theft, along with his declaration that the Forsaken are not worthy of being in his city?” The longer she lists her grievances, the more the red glow returns to her eyes, anger welling up in her voice.

“He has not simply laid the straw that broke the camel’s back. He has laid an entire bale, and I will tolerate it no longer. The time has come for us to realize our best interests are served only if he is… ‘removed’ from his office. Permanently. Something I intend very much to have a hand in.” It’s almost eerie, the way the Banshee Queen can so brazenly talk of the highest treason possible… Thankfully, none but the two of them are around to hear it.

Silence was often the language of the Forsaken, and with Sylvanas that was no exception. In fact, she had mastered it to a tee; leaving it long enough to linger so that it would have the recipient wondering, yet not so long as to make it a pause of indecision; of solitude; and, of course, of sheer awkwardness. It was something that constantly had people guessing, including Nathanos himself, and yet once the silence was broken she spoke with a force unyielding; a voice so true.

"Of course; diplomacy is a high priority for your speech-making." He responded, letting out a short cackle of sorts for he knew that, for Garrosh's sake, she was far beyond being diplomatic. He could sense her anger growing with each word that fell off her mouth at that point, with the red glow soon returning to her eyes and yet that worried him not ; her anger was well-deserved, after all. Their Warchief's decisions in and of themselves were... somewhat controversial, and it was more than often that the people who resided within the Eastern Kingdoms suffered for it. Yet his latest scandals had even offended those closer to home, and it seemed the Lady had picked up on such tensions.

"How daring," Was his next response; often they were kept short and to the point, even before her. Especially before her, more like. Perhaps it was foolish to speak as such; of something as daring and demanding as treason and yet Nathanos felt it best too. After all, why leave things unsaid when something could be done about it? "That, my Lady, will be no easy task. Whilst Orgrimmar isn't exactly a tasteful place... it does what it intends to; acts as a stronghold, and a good one at that. With the news of his dismissal of our kind, i've no doubt he will do the same to the other... less-than-worthy races. A clean job is simply out of the question." It was almost laughable; how freely they could speak of such terrible notions. In any other happen-stance, he would avoid this conversation entirely. Yet actions always did speak louder than words to begin with.

Regardless of the circumstance, he would support her until the end.

"This... will take much work." He concluded finally, giving a grunt of sorts as he nodded his head. "But possible. Definitely possible."

Business, as usual || Nathanos + Sylvanas

As Nathanos exits her chamber ever-so-transiently to inform the guard of her wishes, the only sound that fills the hollow stone halls is the ever-present scratching of her pen against yet another missive, an idle…

… scritch…

… scratch…

… scritch…

… bubbling off the pages. Her hand moves gracefully and confidently, the impeccable style of her penmanship a perfect match for her ballet-like motions across the page. When Nathans returns, she once more indicates the chair at the opposite end of her desk, using the feathered-edge of her quill pen.

“Sit, and stay a while. We’ve much to discuss,” as her pen continues to move across the page, writing what appears to be a letter to Grand Magister Rommath, “and even more to do. No doubt you are aware of the quickly degenerating situation with Dalaran, and the Kirin Tor? … and the man responsible for lighting the fuse, as it were?”

Sylvanas waits only a second or two for some sort of nod of affirmation in response, not even sparing a glance towards her champion or, indeed, away from her letter at all. After all, one would have to be living under a rock not to have heard of the debacle Garrosh has caused by now. And tombstones do not count as rocks. With that thought in her mind, Sylvanas finally sets down her pen, towards the bottom of her page, and lets out a sigh. A bit of ink leaks off the tip and forms a blot beneath her signature, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“… It is getting to the point, Nathanos, where something needs to be done about that ogre-faced buffoon, before we are all run into permanent graves. Words cannot express how much I tire of being treated like a,” as her eyes redden, voice filling with anger, “child by him.”

The Banshee Queen, Sylvanas Windrunner, a woman with hundreds of years of battlefield and diplomatic experience: relegated to the backseat by a headstrong orc with no mind for diplomacy. who watches her like a hawk and treats her like a dog. The notion sickens her.

The task was completed with eagerness, and soon all that filled the room was their presence and the sound of the scratching quill against the parchment laid down before her. Her gestures were limited, yet Nathanos could see that she pointed towards the direction of an empty seat, and with her bequest did he walk towards it's sturdy frame and perch himself upon it, watching intently as she set the quill down and allowed the bottom of the page to blotch slightly - though she cared not of such matters.

"I'd be a fool to not know of such events," Was his first response to her. "it's been voiced with whispers around the city for sometime now, more so by the elves - though that doesn't make it any less known." In honesty, the details were only minor ones; not many knew the true nature of the events that occurred aside from those who were actually there - champions and people within positions of power, more than most, and such people were not the type to linger in the sewers. The whispers may have been nothing more than speculation, but Nathanos remembered them nevertheless.

"Oh?" Such a response was not expected at that time, and yet he could tell that it had been on her mind for a good while. Ever since she had been put on a leash by their so-called Warchief she had showed an open form of disrespect towards him. Tensions were growing between the leaders of the Horde, and it appeared that it was not something that was kept well-hidden. Of course, Nathanos could have spoken all day about his opinions on the Orc who sat within the confines of Orgrimmar, demanding that his word be law and yet that would accomplish nothing. Indeed the anger of the Banshee Queen was enough for him to know that something, whatever it may be, would be done.

"What do you propose, Sylvanas?"

nathanosblightcaller replied to your post: .

…ever cuddled a skeleton before? *OHHHH*

OutOfArrows: … Have you been bathing in my malt liquor again?

…let’s not talk about that.

NATHANOS.

I PUT THE NO IN NATHANOS.

#ooc

nathanosblightcaller replied to your post: .

…ever cuddled a skeleton before? *OHHHH*

OutOfArrows: … Have you been bathing in my malt liquor again?

celestial-lion-deactivated20130

...let's not talk about that.

#ooc

Magic Anons

warmthofthewilds

Gift: What’s this! Muse found something strange on their doorstep and must keep it with them for at least six hours. Anon decides what it is they find. Soul: Muse has become soul-bound to someone’s s muse for a maximum of one week! Muse must send the other person at least 3 asks a day, and cannot deny any request given by that muse for at least three days. Anon decided who they’re bound to. (negated if the other muse doesn’t agree.) Devotion: But my dear, I love you! Something has caused my muse to become overcome with an overwhelming need to prove their love to something or someone. Anon decides the duration, and who or what muse is in love with. Wings:You can fly! Muse sprouts wings for up to a maximum of two weeks. Anon gets to choose how big they are( chicken wings anyone?) Storm: A tiny storm cloud has decided to torment muse. Anon decides duration and the type of storm! It can be a regular storm, or you can have it rain something random. Rain rain, go away! Glass: I knew those mime classes would pay off someday! Muse is stuck in an invisible ‘glass box’ for any duration the anon chooses. Glamour: Muse thinks they are a famous celebrity or royalty for any duration the anon chooses up to one week. It’s simply fabulous darling~ Jealous: Muse becomes extremely jealous of another muse for an extremely ridiculous reason of the anon’s choosing. Can last up to five days max. Power: Fear me mortals, for I am almighty! Mwahaha. Muse goes mad with power for as long as the anon wants. Chaos: It’s a mad house! A mad house I say! Muse’s personality gets flipped backwards for three days. The timid turn mighty, the charismatic turn into downers, and straight characters get to kiss a girl/boy and like it. Sin: Put this and one of the seven sins in muse’s ask box, and they’ll be consumed by it for five days. Gluttony, lust, pride, envy, greed, sloth, and wrath. Pick your poison~ Mirror: Muse turns into a narcissist for 24 hours. If they see another muse of the same character they have to flirt with them at least once. Skin: Take it off! Muse’s clothes have gone missing for any duration of the anon’s choosing up to one week! Tears: Muse can’t stop crying. Anon decides for how long and for what reason they cry. I didn’t mean to spill the milk! ;o; Mercy: Groveling time! Muse thinks they’ve done something wrong and need to apologize for everything and beg forgiveness. Child: Do you know where my Mommy is? Muse turns into a toddler for a week. Pride: Muse feels an inescapable need to boast about everything they do, even normal things. I mad toast this morning, how kickass am I? Lie: Oh no, Pinocchio! Muse can’t lie for however long anon decides. Master: Muse must be submissive and give into any demands they’re given for 5 hours. I’ll do anything to please you…Master. Addiction: WHERE MY DRUGS AT MAN. Muse is addicted to a substance of some kind for 24 hours. Anon decided what they’re addicted to. Blood: You monster. Muse is a blood thirsty sociopath for 24 hours. Justice: Muse thinks they’re a superhero for however long the anon decides, and they must ‘save’ everything! Jeeze, these tights are tight! Regret: Muse regrets everything they do for five hours. Oh the shame! Mask: Costume party? Muse is stuck wearing a costume of the anons choice for a up to a week. Secret: Muse cannot speak the truth for 24 hours, thinking they’ll let slip an important secret! Hide the documents! Grieve: Muse thinks that someone or something they care for is gone forever, and will ignore any evidence to the contrary. Anon specify how long it lasts. Moon: One small step for man,a giant leap for muse-kind. Muse must live in zero-gravity for 24 hours. Silence: What did you say? Muse goes mute and can only communicate in gifs and descriptive text. No dialogue. Anon decides duration. Pray: Muse is tormented by spirits/is an spirit for 24 hours. if they become an spirit, they cannot be seen, and must haunt someones askbox until they turn back. Hate: Muse suddenly despises someone or something they previously liked, for 24 hours. Anon decides who or what they hate. Snow: Jack Frost isn’t whose nipping at your nose~ Muse is inexplicably turned into a winter spirit for three days. He can’t be seen by anyone during this time. Cold: I’m covered in purple spots! Muse is sick for the next week. Anon decides how severe the illness is and what symptoms. Beauty: Man, I feel like a …woman? Muse suddenly switches genders. Anon decides the duration. Twisted: Muse is turned into an evil version of themselves, or if bad, they turn good. Through the looking glass. Obsession: Muse is being followed by an obsessive stalker who is slowly going crazier and crazier. Anon decides for how long. Break: My Leg! Muse has broken their leg and now needs help to take care of themselves and get around. Lasts for a week. Control: Muse loses control of their actions and are controlled by an outside force. Anon decides for how long and whether the outside force controlling the muse is good or not. Scar: Muse is now planning to overthrow a kingdom or ruling party in their universe. Lasts for 24 hours. Fall: Oh no, a cliff hanger! Muse if trapped on the side of a cliff or somewhere high up with no way of escaping. Lasts for 3 days. Same: Muse is suddenly turned into another character! Anon decides who they now look like and for how long. Someone: Now you’re just somebody that I used to know~ Muse cannot remember anything about a single person for one week. Anon decides who it is they cannot remember. Love: Muse is suddenly madly in love with another person! Anon decides who it is. If already in love with that person, they fall out of it. All is fair in love and war after all! Conflict: Muse suddenly feels as if they are in the middle of a massive war! Anon decides for how long. Get your guns! Morning: Oh shit,is there a tiger in the bathroom?! Muse wakes up the morning after a rough night of drinking, and has no idea what is going on. Lasts for one week or until the muse figures out what happened last night. Night: A wishing star! Anon gets to make a wish and muse has to accommodate it. Pale: Muse becomes a vampire (and not the sparkly variety) for 3 days. Anon gets to decide if they are the regular blood sucking variety, or if they crave something different. Well this sucks. Sorrow: Muse becomes incredibly depressed for 24 hours, and can only respond to things pessimistically. I’m a cup half empty kind of person. Joy: I have cancer?Hurray! Muse is extremely peppy/hyperactive and reacts to everything in an inappropriately happy way. Pain: Muse is in an extremely large amount of pain for no apparent or fixable reason. Put me out of my misery. Fear: Anon gets to name something, and muse will have an extremely debilitating phobia of it for one week. Bonus points if it’s something ridiculous. Rage: Muse becomes consumed in an uncontrolable rage and goes on a rampage in other people’s ask boxes for 24 hours. MUSE SMASH! Terrible: Something bad happens to muse. Anon decides what it is. Game: Muse is somehow cast into a Hunger Games type scenario, and if they somehow survive they get a fabulous prize. Anon decides what prize they get if they win. Gun: I’m going to jump it! Anon tells muse a word and a character, and they make an unreasonable assumption based on it. Mess: Muse is now filthy and needs someone to help them clean off. You dirty boy you! Hero: Muse is put into a dangerous situation and can only be saved by another person. Anon decides what the situation is. I need a hero! Memory: Dude where’s my….who am I again? Muse loses there memory and can’t remember anything at all. Anon decides the duration. Exile: You’ve been kicked off the island. Muse is exiled from their home. Dress: Muse has to wear clothes from the opposite gender for three days. If muse is male, they muse wear a flamboyant dress. If muse is female, they wear a man’s tux or suit. This includes underwear as well. Feel the breeze! Leather: Muse must wear a leash and collar for three days. If an RPer sends this, they must be their slave for those three days. Be gentle with me… Treasure: Muse finds a treasure map and becomes a pirate! Anon decides the duration. A pirates life for me~ Hidden: Something important of the muse’s can be lost. It can be something they own, or something they’ve given another character. Where did I put that again? Dirty: Muse becomes a sexual deviant for 5 hours. Spread ‘em baby~ Water: SHARKS! Muse becomes lost at sea for one week. Legend: Muse has to go on a quest to find a legendary treasure. It is dangerous and extremely hard to get to, guarded by a dragon. Anon decides what the treasure is. Fire: Burn, baby, burn! Muse breathes fire whenever they open their mouths for the next 24 hours. Paradise: Muse is stuck on a deserted island by themselves for one week. At least I have you Winston. Breathe: Muse is a mermaid.merman for three days, and can’t breathe above water. Under the sea~ Find: No leaving the nest! Muse is found by a curious giant bird and it adopts them for three days. Dance: Muse must dance with everyone they see for 24 hours. Everybody salsa! Roses: Muse must propose to everyone they see, regardless of gender or species, for 24 hours. Will you be mine? Black: Muse does blind for one week. Who turned out the lights? Heart: You assume I care why? Muse cannot feel or express any emotions for 24 hours. Red: Muse is easily flustered and skittish. Anon decides for how long. S-senpai noticed m-m-me! Murder: Don’t shoot! Muse is paranoid and thinks a serial killer is stalking them for three days. Worthless: Muse becomes completely powerless for three days! If muse is normally powerless, they get super strength for thee days! Why am I so pointless? Relax: Muse wins a vacation to somewhere exotic and gets to take another person with them. Spring break woohoo! Ocean: Muse is turned into a sea creature. Anon decides what kind, and for how long. Under the sea~ Winter: Ice burn! Muse is now lost in a snow storm and must survive for three days! Bed: Muse now has narcolepsy and falls asleep at random for three days. Nighty night! Call: Muse is suddenly feral and acts like wild animal. Alternatively, they actually become a wild animal.Anon decides for how long. It’s the call of the wild! Return: Someone from Muse’s past comes back. I missed you! Shy: Muse is incredibly shy and clingy for three days. Don’t l-look at m-me like that S-senpai-san. Fast: Muse is suddenly unable to stop moving, and must run constantly. Anon decides on the duration. Alone: I’m so lonely without you…Muse is stuck alone as the only survivor in a deserted city for three days. Enjoy: Muse is easily entertained by something stupid for 24 hours. Anon decides what it is. Wait: Muse is promised their greatest wish if they can wait, but they cannot interact with the person they love while they do. Anon decides how long it lasts. Mild: Super spicy! Muse feels like their mouth is on fire and only kisses make it stop. Anon decides how long it lasts. Tired: Muse is suddenly very drowsy and lethargic and feels the need to cuddle with everyone, even their enemies. Muse decides duration. I think I need a hug. Favorite: A favorite thing of Muse’s is destroyed or Muse can no longer get to it. Anon decides what that favorite is and for how long. Eyes: Muse has lost their depth perception and balance for 24 hours. I can’t see straight! Pet: Me-OW! Muse is turned into an animal of some kind for three days. Eat: Muse get’s the stomach flu, and is unable to eat without being forced to vomit it back up again for three days. I don’t feel so hot. Easy: Muse now has extreme difficulty doing something they are normally good at. But WHY can’t I repeat the alphabet? Book: Quiet in the library! Muse is now stuck inside a storybook, and what happens is decided by the askbox. Lasts until the story finishes. Different: Something obvious about muse is different from normal, such as their hair being a new color, or their clothes suddenly shifting to something unusual. Change is good. Home: Muse is deluded into thinking they are now in a family with someone, and insists on ‘playing family’ with them for three days. The twist-they think they are the opposite role than they should be, as in =male muse is mommy, female muse is daddy, child muse is the parent.Now put the apron on! Complete: Muse must be in a relationship with someone or they begin to have a panic attack. Lasts for however long the anon wants.

#((oh the humanity))#((lets do it))

royalapothecarysociety

((Admittedly, I derped in excitement hardcore when you followed this blog. X) ))

((YES! That makes me happy to know this :D lets get cracking, ladies and gentlemen. We got blight to cook up))

Business, as usual || Nathanos + Sylvanas

The second The Dark Lady hears a voice address her, her initial reaction is to hold up one finger in a ‘shush’ gesture, which she slowly brings towards her lips. She doesn’t even look towards the source of the words for a moment, her attention entirely occupied by the task at hand.

Currently, Sylvanas reposes at her writing desk, holding the tip of a stick of red wax aloft above the dancing edge of a candle’s flame, idly melting drip after drip onto the seal of an envelope. When four or five drops of molten wax have landed upon the letter’s flap, she takes care to lift her seal from its resting place in a little bin atop her desk…

… and press it firmly down into the wax, leaving the seal of the Dark Lady upon the freshly-closed missive. Now, and only now, does she turn to face Nathanos. It may seem curt, but this is actually special treatment, for ones the Dark Lady tolerates very well. Most interruptions would simply have been told to get out immediately… And the remaining ones who weren’t? Well. They wouldn’t get a small, but transient, smile when finally addressed.

As Nathanos does.

“Mmmn,” she begins, turning her eyes back towards the flickering flame while withdrawing her quill pen from the inkwell. Before she touches quill to paper, she motions for him to join her, at the seat on the other end of her escritoire. “I sense the growing restlessness in the Undercity is beginning to get to you, as well?”

At this point, Sylvanas leans back into her chair, peering off down the hallway. She holds up one hand, palm out, indicating that Nathanos stop before walking over to her. “Join me. But first, give the guard instructions to allow no one in until you leave. What I have to say must be done in private, and kept… clandestine. I trust that will not be a problem?”

The first notion to greet him was one of silence and supposed dismissal, and yet Nathanos knew much better than to simply take it as such. Patience, in that moment, would have to be a virtue for him as he watched her work dutifully over her package. A delicate job, she made it seem, and yet to many it would be oh so tedious. Perhaps that was the best thing about the Banshee Queen; always meticulous in her planning, even down to the minor details such as sealing a letter shut with the mark of the Undercity.

Mere moments passed before she finally greeted him with her own eyes, though silence still remained. Though her eyes wandered away quite quickly, she was able to carry conversation regardless. Her correct assumptions only made him grumble to himself as he shifted on the spot ever so slightly, before giving a nod of his head. "Restlessness in a different form, do not be mistaken. The boredom of the rabble makes me wish I were blind and deaf; they continue to ask for work, yet we appear to be as efficient as ever, meaning we are only left with flower-picking, and pelt-collecting. You can guess who those tasks are passed onto..." Nathanos, indeed, was a lucky one. He was often occupied in several tasks pertaining to training individuals and setting tasks for others, and yet it was when they came to him with problems most tedious that he, too, succumbed to the whims of desperation. Though many made it appear an addiction, Nathanos knew much better.

The Dark Lady always did have something in mind, even if she told nobody about it. She allowed it to simmer well first and foremost; offering a teasing taste before even beginning to delve into the details of what she had to say. Her words were a sign of things to come, and it was with enthusiasm that he gave a nod of his head. "Not a problem at all," was his simple response, and with that did he turn and address the guards of her decision. Nothing more than a whisper informed them of what they may have already heard to begin with. Secrecy, from this point on, was a big part of their methods and ways. After the incident of Wrathgate, and Putress' undoubted betrayal, caution was in their best interests.

"On you terms, My Lady. Speak as you will."

#((...it truly is a great day when you find the royal apocathery society and can follow them))#((team undercity anyone?))

Listening to spoken words, she tilted her head slightly to the right, a long eyebrow raised. The Kaldorei's expression turned into slight amusement, a faint smile. The bow of hers remained untouched on her back, hold there by its string around her chest. Neither would any of the elf's well-known saber be present. Surely she was not that foolish? ,,It is not my intention to try and kill what is already dead. I had my fair share of that in northrend. You forsaken are not braindead as the scourge."

"Then perhaps there's hope for you yet," He responded almost immediately, taking in her surroundings for but a mere moment. He was vigilant even despite her form of innocence and lack of threat; caution was everything in these times. "What business do you have here, elf? You are hardly welcome around these parts. Or are you a fool to not see as such?"

Business, as usual || Nathanos + Sylvanas

Over the course of time, things in the Undercity appeared to... lack a sense of direction. With the death of the Lich King now a part of their past, and their invasion of Gilneas long gone, the figures that now resided within the depths of the City appeared restless; reckless, almost. It hadn't gone unnoticed, of course - all were affected by the lingering sense of purpose, or more so a lack of it. Yet Nathanos was adamant in believing that all feelings were but a fallacy; a phase to travel through before they would have a new task to work upon - a new sense of direction that travelled away from those they had previously set.

Naturally, however, this task was not an easy one. Care was something that Nathanos had been disregarding and yet unforeseen consequences had led to their own caution; false as it may be. For that reason alone did the ranger feel lost unto himself; witnessing the faces of those Forsaken who demanded he teach them his ways, to those who would ask the most mundane of questions and present him with the results of equally as mundane tasks. Lacklustre was a choice word to describe it all at that moment - lacklustre in every possible way.

It was when he heard the questionings (and ramblings) of one of the many blood elven rangers that Nathanos retreated to the Royal Quarter of the City to seek out The Lady, for he could tolerate the sound of the elves' cries no longer... and no doubt she would have come to him eventually to ponder upon the reasons that she could not call herself a Dark Ranger. Such ignorance should surely be punished with execution, he thought bitterly.

Travelling down the corridor laced with guards that stood at their post; unmoving in their ways even despite the things they may have heard, Nathanos eventually found himself within the chamber - before those who were considered of the utmost importance to the City, whether living or not. Of course he acknowledged their presence... and yet, in such moments, he only wished for the presence of one.

"My Lady," He spoke in low tones as he approached the mantle which held upon it the Banshee Queen. He gave a courteous bow in the moment whilst also recognising her questionable facade; a hint of frustration and annoyance, laced with complete nonchalance. Never one to be read from her appearance alone, Nathanos knew, but he never questioned. "Have you any news?"