sheepfilms
noise dept.
cherry valley forever
Peter Solarz
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Xuebing Du
#extradirty
todays bird
trying on a metaphor
Jules of Nature
Mike Driver
One Nice Bug Per Day
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
blake kathryn
@theartofmadeline
Cosimo Galluzzi
PR's Tumblrdome
ojovivo
⁂
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@sonofdraka
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
Thrall held Jaina close to his body as he walked, one hand behind her head, trying his best not to move her too much. "How we're true mates, you mean?" he murmured in her ear, giving it a kiss. "I... I'm not sure. I feel it in my gut, I suppose-- if not the spirits themselves, trying to tell me in my dreams about you.
"Careful now," he added gently as they began up the steps to his quarters-- thankfully, clear of any other people. "This is gonna feel weird."
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
Thrall held Jaina close to his body as he walked, one hand behind her head, trying his best not to move her too much. "How we're true mates, you mean?" he murmured in her ear, giving it a kiss. "I... I'm not sure. I feel it in my gut, I suppose-- if not the spirits themselves, trying to tell me in my dreams about you.
"Careful now," he added gently as they began up the steps to his quarters-- thankfully, clear of any other people. "This is gonna feel weird."
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
He chuckled softly, catching her eye before turning away with a cough. "We... Should probably get back to work, huh?"
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
Thrall held Jaina close to his body as he walked, one hand behind her head, trying his best not to move her too much. "How we're true mates, you mean?" he murmured in her ear, giving it a kiss. "I... I'm not sure. I feel it in my gut, I suppose-- if not the spirits themselves, trying to tell me in my dreams about you.
"Careful now," he added gently as they began up the steps to his quarters-- thankfully, clear of any other people. "This is gonna feel weird."
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
Thrall woke up early that morning, blinking at the morning sun through one of the windows. He’d woken with a crick in his shoulder, but, when he moved to stretch, he found himself with a head on that same shoulder.
Garokkah had fallen asleep on him.
“Girl, it’s time to wake up,” he whispered, shaking her gently. Part of him simply wished to leave, to tip toe away and forget this had happened… but that felt too impersonal to do to her.
She made a sound not unlike a frustrated wolf pup, shoving her head further into his shoulder-- but, as she did, her eyes fell half-open.
She flinched away, sitting suddenly upright-- and swaying slightly as she tried to balance herself. Garokkah huffed and tossed the hair from her eyes, trying to see if she had really...
She had. "Thrall--" she began, pausing as words failed her. "...What happened?"
Even as she asked the question, memories of the night before returned to her. But it was just as well-- she hoped he believed she'd forgotten.
He stood and smiled down at her gently. "We simply fell asleep, is all. Do not worry yourself over it."
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
He smiled gently down at the wooden figurine, carefully tracing what little details it had. "Thank you, my friend. I will treasure it for as long I live. May I go place it in my room?"
She was quick to nod again. "Of course." There was a lightness in her chest, that he would even ask.
The rest of the night was intended to be quiet. But they kept talking, kept finding distractions, and eventually they began to drink again.
Her head was fogged, as she found herself leaning on Thrall. He may well have been asleep-- but she would not fall asleep. She would watch over him, since he could not watch himself.
Even as she said the words, she knew they were lies. Within moments, she had lost the drive to remain awake... and the last thing she saw before nodding off was Thrall's ears twitching.
He was dreaming, she thought.
Thrall woke up early that morning, blinking at the morning sun through one of the windows. He'd woken with a crick in his shoulder, but, when he moved to stretch, he found himself with a head on that same shoulder.
Garokkah had fallen asleep on him.
"Girl, it's time to wake up," he whispered, shaking her gently. Part of him simply wished to leave, to tip toe away and forget this had happened... but that felt too impersonal to do to her.
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
Thrall looked up at her in surprise, snapped out of his reverie. “A- are you certain? You don’t wish to keep it?”
He felt… odd, accepting it from her. He’d received many gifts since becoming warchief of the Horde, since founding Durotar, but this… this felt exquisitely personal, like it’d be an offense to take it from her.
She nodded, the skin of her cheeks hot. "It would honor me, for you to accept it-- if you wish to." She stilled the urge to shake, forcing her body solid and her face stoic.
"And... there may come others. I plan to carve two wolves," she added. "Malak and Snowsong."
He smiled gently down at the wooden figurine, carefully tracing what little details it had. "Thank you, my friend. I will treasure it for as long I live. May I go place it in my room?"
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
"Yes-- she has been training since we returned. Her fire is too high not to." Garokkah did not doubt that without the racing she and Malak had taken to, the beast would go mad with boredom. They were kindred in that way, never satisfied.
But as they entered Grommash Hold, Malak calmed... sniffing the air for her beloved. There were times when Snowsong could not be jogged from slumber by Thrall himself, so Malak had no hope-- but still she would go to her side, burying her nose in the white wolf's fur.
They reached her room, and Garokkah felt her stomach sink as they went within. "All of the carvings are together," she said, going through the comparatively few trophies and trinkets she kept...
"There," she said. In her hands was, unmistakably, a small wooden statuette of Thrall holding his Doomhammer. "It is simple, but too many details could crack the wood."
Upon crossing his room, Thrall quickly opened the door to his own quarters for Malak, allowing the direwolf to pounce on her beloved, who snorted as she woken by the other wolf, but made no move to get up.
When shown the little statuette of himself, he felt his heart lift. "It's... It's incredible, Garokkah," Thrall whispered, gently plucking it from her hands to inspect it closer. "I... Thank you. For thinking of me, when you made this."
Her gaze was trapped by that look on his face. The care he took with the figurine. His voice, and the words he said.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came. When she found her own words, finally, she told him:
"It is yours. If you would have it."
She imagined the figure being set somewhere he would see it. Where he would think of this moment-- where those who entered his quarters would see it and ask its history.
Thrall looked up at her in surprise, snapped out of his reverie. "A- are you certain? You don't wish to keep it?"
He felt... odd, accepting it from her. He'd received many gifts since becoming warchief of the Horde, since founding Durotar, but this... this felt exquisitely personal, like it'd be an offense to take it from her.
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
"Yes-- she has been training since we returned. Her fire is too high not to." Garokkah did not doubt that without the racing she and Malak had taken to, the beast would go mad with boredom. They were kindred in that way, never satisfied.
But as they entered Grommash Hold, Malak calmed... sniffing the air for her beloved. There were times when Snowsong could not be jogged from slumber by Thrall himself, so Malak had no hope-- but still she would go to her side, burying her nose in the white wolf's fur.
They reached her room, and Garokkah felt her stomach sink as they went within. "All of the carvings are together," she said, going through the comparatively few trophies and trinkets she kept...
"There," she said. In her hands was, unmistakably, a small wooden statuette of Thrall holding his Doomhammer. "It is simple, but too many details could crack the wood."
Upon crossing his room, Thrall quickly opened the door to his own quarters for Malak, allowing the direwolf to pounce on her beloved, who snorted as she woken by the other wolf, but made no move to get up.
When shown the little statuette of himself, he felt his heart lift. "It's... It's incredible, Garokkah," Thrall whispered, gently plucking it from her hands to inspect it closer. "I... Thank you. For thinking of me, when you made this."
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
"Mmm." He took a bite of food, noticing the way she quieted, thinking. "But enough about work. What do you do for fun, at this time of day, besides drinking? I wish to relax a little more before I retire for the night."
She had started on her own portion of the platter-- and chewed the bite she had taken from a leg of meat as she sorted through her thoughts. What would satisfy the Warchief?
"Besides racing Malak? Saurfang has taught me to whittle wood-- I suppose in hopes that I should nick a vein." She chuckled, the feeling warm and as filling as the food, and she realized she did not laugh enough. "It depends, I suppose, on whether you wish to nod off or pass out. Though I do have a carving of your likeness."
"Truly?" he asked, ears and brow perking up. "I never thought you the creative sort. I would certainly like to see it. And I think I'd be fine with passing out, just for today," he added with a wink.
Once again, she found herself flushing red-- but she wasn't sure just what he had said, or meant, to set her off. She fought it, tousling the ends of her auburn mane-- "I keep it with my other belongings-- at my quarters in Grommash Hold. We would have to return there."
Malak was tied outside the tavern, and quite bored with it. At the mention of travel, she whined and stamped her paws, audible even within.
"Her hearing is sharp," Garokkah remarked, grinning-- though there was uneasiness in her stance. She would not acknowledge it to herself, but the thought of having Thrall in her home made her somewhat... nervous? Excited? She kept it tidy enough that she shouldn't have to worry. l
She wasn't sure what she felt.
Thrall laughed at the whine of the dire wolf outside, finishing off the rest of his drink. "Smart girl. A little too smart," he added, "if I remember how she got into the food stocks last week. Damn near cause a famine!"
He chuckled at his own joke, setting down a few coins for the bartender, despite her insistence not to. "Come. I want to see your whittling; I'm sure Snowsong would like to be let outside, as well."
(Open starter! Feel free to reply!)
Thrall pushed up his tiny reading glasses, grumbling at the small text he was faced with. Damn Forsaken and their dainty writing, he thought to himself, leaning forward to read an illegible word.
With a sigh, he finally gave up and lay the report down, just as a knock came at his door. "Come in," he called, thankful for the reprieve.
"Mmm." He took a bite of food, noticing the way she quieted, thinking. "But enough about work. What do you do for fun, at this time of day, besides drinking? I wish to relax a little more before I retire for the night."
She had started on her own portion of the platter-- and chewed the bite she had taken from a leg of meat as she sorted through her thoughts. What would satisfy the Warchief?
"Besides racing Malak? Saurfang has taught me to whittle wood-- I suppose in hopes that I should nick a vein." She chuckled, the feeling warm and as filling as the food, and she realized she did not laugh enough. "It depends, I suppose, on whether you wish to nod off or pass out. Though I do have a carving of your likeness."
"Truly?" he asked, ears and brow perking up. "I never thought you the creative sort. I would certainly like to see it. And I think I'd be fine with passing out, just for today," he added with a wink.
