❅—“In order to survive the gnashing of its teeth…
“Iu oɹpǝɹ ʇo snɹʌᴉʌǝ ʇɥǝ ƃuɐsɥᴉuƃ oɟ ᴉʇs ʇǝǝʇɥ…”
An ashen, featherlike brow would arch deliberately, as his sensitive ears gathered every vibration the Curator’s throat painted into the air. All of his considerations were placed aside. His intentions were instantly brushed from the forefront of his attention..
❝The Wretched? Of what concern are they to you?❞
He was albeit, more hopeful than he sounded. Their gilded Prince, damaged and dishonored though the youth of Silvermoon would lament him - like parentless children despairing of a keeper - they would not know as he did, that Kael'thas persisted yet, and toiled still for the fallen of their kin. To believe that the Nightflare Curator and the Sunstrider Prince were working in a kind of tandem… if the tattered sheets of his heart could still beat, he would have dared believe that it would have skipped a sequence.
Slowly, he gathered his composure as the smaller-statured elf intruded amiably into his space. Indulging himself, on the basis of self-same curiosity, the backs of his claws traced faintly along the curious, fel-magic runes etched into the side of Keldreyas’ face as he answered before anticipating a response to his own inquiry.
❝I was greatly taxed by the campaign in Draenor. It simply took this long to recover. It may interest you - as it did myself, in fact. Through some experimentation I was rewarded with a dismal discovery… My strength wanes when I am greatly distanced from the Frozen Throne for an extended time.“ He glanced at his own hand, flexing his long fingers, each crowned in a black-lacquered claw. "I returned to Northrend post-haste, before this compromise to my potency was noted by the enemy. Not even in the Depths of Vashj'ir did I lose so much stamina. You see, in Draenor, I was severed from my King’s Voice, and his ice-cold fires of Will. There was nothing to sustain me save for my gifts as a San'layn. The opposition in Draenor is fierce and unyielding. I spent my noxious blood too freely, so like a weak currency to silence them. The Draenei and their Light assaulted me from one side, the Legion and its hellfire assaulted me from the other… I simply could not consume enough life-energies without rousing suspicion from my superstitious, if useful, garrison soldiers. It troubles me, to have overlooked this disproportion of use and reclamation of energy. I will need to enlist cultists who would willingly and eagerly spend their energies in small portions to strengthen my reach, if I am to sustain a presence in Draenor.
My teeth still feel dry…❞
He sighed, and brushed a loose strand of ash from his eyes. For a multiplicity of reasons, he felt comfortable disclosing this realization with the Curator. Perhaps it was a kinship of forbidden science-enthusiasts. Perhaps it was because like himself, Keldreyas did not fit comfortably into the pre-designated races of "Blood Elf” or “High Elf,” but rather, a disheartened third kind. It was additionally, undeniable that the Plaguelord was rather interested in himself, as an experimental subject.
❝I have stationed a few loyal servants there, to ensure that the apexis crystals and other vital reliquaries are collected for my Master’s glorious ambitions, but I will take time to ensure that I will not return to Draenor simply to greet fatigue once more. So, the event cataclysmic is on a scale relevant to none but myself this time, if it comforts you.❞
—we crawled whole, ‘ǝloɥʍ pǝlʍɐɹɔ ǝʍ
into the belly of the beast.” “.ʇsɐǝq ǝɥʇ ɟo ʎllǝq ǝɥʇ oʇuᴉ
That ever-present amiability never faded, as a single digit raised and pressed itself against lips that never seemed to cease facilitating voice, yet rarely gave away more than a portion of the secrets held within the lithe creature’s frame. In his haste to protect the little family left to him, the eldest, now head of the Dawnflare house, would have fled the battle in Quel'thalas, taking his sibling’s demonic state with him - he would not be present when the Sin'dorei were named, he had not stood with his brethren during their path, following the Sun King to glory, instead pursuing knowledge and power to fulfill a single promise. There would be no regret in his decision, but there was little point in forsaking the dawn now… if he was to be a wanted traitor regardless, if a sort of redemption could be allowed for abandoning his kin in their hour of need.. this was something he could do.
"I simply have a few theories I wish to tes - t.”
Lightly hitched breath would see to it that his words faltered akin to a skipping record, the ghosted contact causing an abnormal display of hesitance as the slender being leaned back ever so slightly, that smile remaining, though luminescent orbs narrowed. Despite a distinct lack of fear, trust was always an issue to those with keen intellect, and any touch was foreign to the hermit who chose to lock himself in a tower on a daily basis. Evidently, the Curator was allowed to invade the personal bubbles of others, but was less willing to share his own.
A quick wit would mentally note each reverberating phrase, at the same time that multi-toned gaze studied the features across from him, a memory as secure as a Titan’s programming caching each bit of information for later use.
“Fascinating. That does make perfect sense, considering how there are patches of roaming Undead around Azeroth that have completely lost their minds - ghouls and whatnot, because they have no orders giving them purpose, being only a continent away from the Throne - I cannot imagine being a timeline and universe away from the source.
Perhaps the Shadowmoon Dark Shaman would make a proper meal for you? They utilize Void and dark magics, do they not? Considering they’re not entirely welcome anywhere, you could essentially wipe them out.
Ah, I have been researching the Apexis crystals as well, too many rooms have been compromised by overloads..
Regardless, you should come by for tea more often. You still have that stone I gave you, don’t you?”









