Parranis Va'loren

Parranis Va'loren, the timid twin. Follows from Solaniar var sc_project=11755956; var sc_invisible=1; var sc_security="397f3394";

[ratonwolfmane]

Character Traits: Raton Wolfmane

Full name: Ratonhnhakéton Wolfmane

Pronunciation: Ra-doon-ha-hay-doon

Nicknames. The Wolf

Zodiac. Pisces

Languages. Taur’ahe, Orcish, Pandaren, and Common.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

Height. 7’8”

Age. 45

Hair color. Dark brown

Eye color.  Brown

Fur color. Light brown

Body type. Lean/muscular

Accent. Northern Taurahe

Dominant hand. Right

Posture. Normal Tauren

Tattoos. None

Most noticeable features. A large, circular scar on his chest. 

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth. Stonetalon Mountains

hometown.None, nomadic. Highwalker camp.

birth weight/height. Average. 

manner of birth. Natural with the help of a medicine woman. 

first words. Awak “Good”

siblings. Hankota 

parents.  Macha Softdream and Talrak Wolfrunner

parental involvement. Machs and Talrak were both very involved in the life of their firstborn. His father always provided enough for their family and they were well off. What they had was often shared with others in the camp as well. With his father being a warrior, Raton spent much of his early time with his mother in the Highwalker camp. Before he could help with chores, he would always play near her. Once he was old enough, Raton happily helped with household chores. Once Hankota was born Raton also helped his mother care for his little brother. 

Given his father’s reputation and status as High Brave, everyone in camp expected for Raton to become a great warrior as well. His mother however was a healer and unbeknownst to all, including herself, the healing ways she had been taught by her mother and her mother before her was actually basic druidic magic. However, he was not sure if he wished to walk the same path as his father or mother, or forge a new path for himself. Unfortunately not long after he had started to hunt with his father, both his parents were killed in a Centaur raid.

ADULT LIFE.

Occupation. Ambassador and Shield for the Azeroth Peace Council

Current residence. Azeroth Peace Council Headquarters. 

Close friends. Blackwolf Grimtotem, Karanga Featherspear, Brutus Earthwalker, Gotosh, Zargaron Stormpaw, Lady Demytrya Wintersong-Lomeriel.

relationship status. Married to Ahruu Wolfmane 

financial status. Hunter and Gatherer

vices. Smoking of Peacebloom on occasion. 

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation. Bisexual

romantic orientation. Homoromantic

preferred emotional role.  submissive | dominant | switch | unsure 

preferred sexual role.  submissive | dominant | switch | sex repulsed

libido. Moderate

turn-ons. Bravery, honor, humor, humility, traditional. 

turn-offs. Liars, Adultery, brutality, overly boastful, Path breakers. 

love language. Affectionate gestures (kissing, hugging, hand holding, compliments.) physical displays of affection, and, teasing (Neck kisses, whispers).

relationship tendencies. When Raton enters a relationship he goes all in with the intention of staying. To his lovers is romantic, both passionate and caring. A side that is not shown to everyone. Raton is also quite serious as to providing for his lover and their family, always ensuring there is plenty to eat and to craft what they need. 

MISCELLANEOUS.

hobbies to pass the time. Hunting and gathering, fishing, crafting weapons and tools, visiting with friends and acquaintances, routine flights with his Cloud Serpent Yang, and sitting alone in the wilds. 

mental illnesses. Unknown

physical illnesses. Unknown

left or right brained. Left

fears. Losing the ones he loves, failing his people, failing to speak well in front of others, crowds, and captivity. 

self confidence level. Raton is confident in his abilities but overconfident or boastful about them. He understands that there are limits to what he can do. When faced with tough challenges, Raton will either focus on his strength or strategy to overcome them or rely on friends and companions. 

vulnerabilities. Losing those he cares about, his people’s wellbeing, his trusting nature. 

Tagged by: @Seilune

Tagging: @lendarinamberbow, https://frostwolfshaman.tumblr.com/, https://wolfgirlraz.tumblr.com/, https://shamanofthewilds.tumblr.com/,  and anyone else who would like to do it. Feel free to tag me!

[starfallelf]

...

It was some time before Parr found himself setting pen to paper once more. After many starts and stops he’d finally conducted a letter he was either satisfied with or too exhausted to continue re writing. It was sent, and in the magical way of mail on Azeroth, found it’s way to where ever the recipient happened to be. ‘Sir Everglow, I have tried to truly put into words what your gift means to me and I find it lacking each time. To have a bit of a world tree is an honor I do not deserve but I thank you. I am still figuring out how best to honor it but it’s presence alone is inspiring. I would love to have a conversation with you about anything involving nature. I of course am still very early in my studies of druidism but anything i can share that would be beneficial I would be most happy to give. Even if it might only be encouragement. I reside mostly in Silvermoon though I travel from time to time. I am generally available and at your convenience. I do apologize for my late response and I hope the new turn of your research has been productive!’

@everglow-botanicals

[juliedillon]

note to self: just because someone did the thing you were thinking about doing, and did it way better than you could ever hope to do, doesn’t mean it would be stupid or pointless to go ahead and try to still do the thing anyway. 

[lizardywizard]

Also, when it comes to creative things? There really is no “better”.

Sure, someone might be more technically accomplished than you - you might not be able to colour as nicely or craft a sentence that rings as poetically - but art is only really secondarily about that. It’s firstmost about what you, uniquely, have to express, and how the precise way you express it might be what others need to relate to it - even if it’s less flashy, less “beautiful”, and gets fewer notes.

I promise you this: there are obscure fanfics with only a handful of notes that are the read-and-re-read favourites of someone too anxious to comment. There are drawings done by 14-year-olds in poorly-blended markers that are someone’s favourite because they spoke to something that nothing else did. There are covers of songs where your voice cracks and you cringe every time you hear it but someone thinks the way it cracked just at that moment added beauty to the song. There are angsty three-line poems you wrote at 4am that someone once called “pretentious emo trash” that are loved by someone else going through the same thing as you.

And I guarantee you, there is something unique about your art. Even if you’re “saying something someone else has said”. Even if you’re the thousandth person to take on the subject. Even if you feel like you’re not at all unique. You’re bound to express something, however subtle, that didn’t exist until then.

Art is about connection. And the more you create, the more chance you have of finding other people who experience the world the way you do.

[writedreamlie]

“But the one thing that you have that nobody else has is you. Your voice, your mind, your story, your vision. So write and draw and build and play and dance and live as only you can.“ via @neil-gaiman

[hazeldomain]

The “two cakes” theory of content production. 

[glyndarling]

It was only yesterday that I was lamenting thing I no longer felt allowed to do because someone had done similar.   I ought to read this post daily.  Maybe twice daily.

[lemonsharks]

I’m going to tell you a story about an office Thanksgiving potluck.

I love to cook and feed people. One year, I stayed up late making a delicious sweet potato pie, using a recipe I’d spent years developing. Being completely exhausted, I used a high quality store bought crust.

I talked up my pie in the preceding week - whenever it came up in conversation, I said how I was proud of my recipe and couldn’t wait for people to try it. I called it a crowd-pleaser. I told the anecdote about how one year I got the last sweet potato in the store…and it was the size of my head. I compared spice profiles with my coworkers. And I made sure to only do the above with receptive coworkers. Over all, a LOT of interpersonal labor went into this pie.

The potluck arrived. It was loud and boisterous and high-energy. No one took the first slice of my pie – which, fine, sometimes no one wants to cut into a new pie.

I watched the store bought pumpkin pie disappear.

I watched the sad, dry, bland turkey get stripped to the bone.

I watched the unseasoned, steamed spaghetti squash vanish in a cloud of sadness as people realized it was gone.

No one touched my pie.

Later, I found myself in the kitchen with the CEO (it was a small company), scavenging for leftovers. I gently said that there was plenty of my pie left, if she wanted to try it. I was really proud of it and would love to know what she thought.

She asked about my crust. I hesitantly admitted it was store bought. And she said she couldn’t possibly try my pie because she was a “big crust snob.”

That night I took my pie home and cried until I didn’t have any crying left in me.

This is what it feels like to be a content creator sometimes.

If you don’t put anything out there then it won’t hurt as badly when no one says anything – nice or mean.

[findingfeather]

Yeah this is why the “two cakes!” metaphor never worked great for me.

Instead I tend to go with: because the internet is really vast and unlike cakes creative shit doesn’t go bad, there is always the possibility that somewhere out there someone is looking for EXACTLY MY CAKE and will be delighted when they find it.

And maybe they’ll be super shy and not even able to tell me but hey: it was still the perfect cake.

That one doesn’t always work for me but it works better.

[starfallelf]

Get in your muse’s headspace!  For each of the words below, add the first word that would come to your character’s mind!

List found for fast reblogging on mobile here:https://serelia-evensong.tumblr.com/post/184097305026/word-association

Dinner - home

Sky - blue

Trip - fall

Season - spring

Sleep - soft

Comfort - warm

Family - Coll

Black - end

Fight - death

Restaurant - expensive

Home - love

Power - corrupt

Steal - hide

Ocean - deep

Drink - cool

Tagged by: @ames-stillword

[starfallelf]

Coll dropped his gear as he came in the front door, a deep sigh leaving him when the weight of it left his shoulder. He was exhausted. Patrols had doubled after Undercity’s fall- they said the Regent was worried. Coll thought he should be, the forsaken had stood as a barrier to the south for years. Now there was nothing keeping Alliance from marching on Quel’thalas except a swath of dead land and maybe some rune stones, of those ever got fixed. Moving through the cottage he brought his hands to his face, rubbing. He needed to change. There was a patch of roof near the kitchen door that needed patching before it rained again and Parr had asked at least a dozen times that he fix the lock on the shed. He moved to the sink and reached for a glass, filling in the tap while he looked out the window into the back garden. Outside, Parr knelt amid flowers that nearly blocked him from view. Lovingly cultivated since their return home, they’d over taken the back garden  and the tiers that lead up the slope that made up it’s northern edge. Flower mingled with herb, which rubbed elbows with vegetables and fruits and thistle plants. Spot zipped about above him, the pudgy mana wyrm gorging himself on the crickets rustled forth by Parr’s weeding and pruning. He was digging up small starters of his favorites, readying them to take to the Peace Council’s headquarters, where ever that was.  Coll sighed and leaned against the counter.  He’d fucked up what was supposed to be his introduction. It’d been a perfect opportunity. Take the cookies to Ratchet and hand them over, ask to talk to someone. He’d had it all planned out- he’d offer to bodyguard. Surely they needed that, right? Then he’d chickened out. Some guardian he was. Couldn’t even talk to a bunch of peace lovers..  Couldn’t even deal with a little crowd.  Frowning, he took a drink of water. 

[starfallelf]

a curious package

A bundled package was sent off with little by way of address- it was a miracle it made it where it was supposed to go. Inside a cluster of pale green plants, leafy and soft like downy feathers. A note attached explained a bit more. “Sir Everglow! 

Excuse my sudden mail and I hope this makes it to you. I have recalled our talk during the remembrance ceremony several times and now that noble garden time is here I noticed some of my favorite plants coming to bloom. I’m sure you already know about them and probably have some yourself but if not, I sent some along as a hello.   If you by chance aren’t familiar with them we always called them Lamb’s Ears for.. obvious reasons. They make quite good bandages in a pinch because they’re absorbent and antibacterial!  I hope the noble garden season finds you well and your studies going nicely! Parranis Va’loren”

@everglow-botanicals

[disneycollective]

Bambi’s father  → requested by authordc

[starfallelf]

the past

The leaves had begun to fall; a herald to a season he didn’t know. It felt like nature was in mourning. Trees fell bare and grass turned brown beneath his feet. The wind had turned cold. Daelen had draped a thick cloak over the thin elf’s shoulders at the first hint of shivering and it had remained there ever since. The dwarf said he didnt need it, with the warmth of the fires in his forge.  His forge sat next to a knoll at the edge of camp, where Parr had sat every day once he’d been strong enough to make his way there. The elf stared north, back toward the town he’d been rescued from and further, toward elf lands and the family still there. Daelen’d only asked once what he was looking for, the look on the young elf’s face was so sad he couldn’tve stood to ask again.  Over the weeks Parr was assimilated to life in the Argent camp. There was a regimented way to things after the world ended. Even still sickly and weak one had to earn their keep. He’d been put to work cleaning and coiling bandages, sewing on buttons and making small repairs to uniforms. Small things, but needed.  He still barely spoke. Having been found in a hayloft stranded in a sea of milling undead, it was anyone’s guess how long he’d been there before the Argents had rode into the small village. They’d barely heard him calling for help. A few of the soldiers had taken a fondness for their little survivor they knew nothing about. “Aaron,” an argent pulled back the flap of the infirmary tent, calling to the priest inside. “Survivor.” Aaron Rawling had been a village priest saved from one of the first places the argents had approached. While his surviving parishioners had been sent to fortified safety he’d remained with the knights as they continued on. Now he responded whenever they needed both the Light and traditional healing.  Parr followed along, newly appointed apprentice and chief holder of bandages. The large tent where they headed told him this survivor had been infected. The argents were cautious when anyone entered their camps. There was only a small window of time where the plague could be purged before it took too strong a hold.  “Scouting party found him stumbling through a field. Said his horse was taken out from under him.” Aaron frowned. “He’s still lucid at least.” Parr followed the pair silently, ears twitching as they pushed through the tent flap. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see the face of someone who was probably doomed. But a pained exhale made his own breath catch in his throat. Time felt like it stopped as he looked up. Sat in the middle of the tent,  his wrists bound to the chair arms with linen, was his twin.  Coll looked like hell. His color was pallid bordering on grey. His shirt had been removed and his hair pushed to the side as several knights examined wounds on his back. His face contorted in pain when they reached out and touched him. One, the Captain of this roaming contingent, pressed a gloved hand against Coll. Light flashed between his gauntlet and the wounded elf’s back and Coll howled in pain.  Parr dropped the supplies in his hands and rushed forward, his brother’s scream breaking whatever spell had kept him rooted in place. “Coll!” He slipped past Aaron’s grasping hands and curled his arms around his brother’s middle in a hold that would not be broken. Coll’s eyes popped open, bloodshot and delirious. His pupils were wide behind the soft blue glow and he rasped out Parr’s name.  “You’re alive.” Coll managed a smile between gasping breaths and hoarse coughs. “I knew you were.”  “Coll...” Parr tightened his grip on his twin. If he squeezed tight enough maybe he’d wake up back home and Coll would pinch him for ending up in his bed again. “Coll, mama.. she...” he couldn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t get a chance. He could feel hands trying to pry him away from his twin and he fought, curling more against the bound elf.  “No!” He kicked at Aaron as he approached.  “Parr, you know we have to try and purge-” “It isn’t working Aaron. Leave him and work on this before we lose him.” The Captain’s voice sounded strained, and the priest moved to enact his own use of the Light. It was hell for Coll, who screamed and writhed at each assault of the Light into his wounds.  Parr’s sobs continued, hearing how his brother hurt. Knowing what they were doing. Knowing what failure meant.  Coll’s hair brushed his cheek as the elf’s head lolled forward. He wheezed in harsh breaths, the exhales becoming more ragged and fluid filled. It was the sound of the end.  “I..” Aaron’s words failed him. He looked at the argents gathered around. Capitan Lamorak paused, before glancing down at Parr. “You should say your goodbyes.” His tone wasn’t unkind. It pained the man to lose one more to undeath. “No..” Parr pulled at the linen wrappings holding Coll’s arms to the chair. “I can’t..” “Parr.” Coll didn’t even sound like Coll anymore.  “Coll?” He sat up, threading hands through his brother’s hair and pushing it away from his face. A whimper left his throat at the way Coll looked. Black lines creeped from his hairline and along his neck, following his veins away from the wounds on his back. Coll opened his mouth but nothing came out but ragged breathing, bloodied eyes watering as he watched his smaller twin panic.  “NO!” Parr screamed. He hadn’t screamed since his mother had been pulled from his hold. It made the argents shift uncomfortably before reaching to pull him away. “No, no, no! I need you Coll you cant go! Don’t leave me please! Please!” Parr curled himself against his twin, arms wrapping around Coll’s neck and pushing against the other elf. “You can’t have him!” He screeched, the force of his motion pushing the chair back until it toppled backward. Coll howled as he hit his back and Parr scrambled to his side. He pushed his hands against Coll’s chest.  “Fight Coll, please..” What little Light he possessed, fostered by their priest mother, poured into his twin. It bloomed around them like mist and caused the soldiers in the tent to pause.  Coll’s mouth opened in a silent scream and his head snapped back. Aaron bit the back of his hand as he watched. If Parr didn’t stop he’d kill him before the plague did. He wasn’t sure which would be more painful, for either of them. A hum filled the air, tension made manifest in sound as something still struggling inside the plagued and dying elf broke free and connected with the Light from his twin. It was like smothering a fire. Coll’s writhing stopped and he fell back against the ground with a harsh exhale. He’d lost consciousness but the black inky veining had disappeared.   Parr dropped his head to Coll’s chest and listened, tightening his hold on the other’s arm and closing his eyes.

[starfallelf]

Lovely work! Found out about this on my Troll Annoh, as I was hunting avalanch! Great follow and hope to rp with ya sometime! >:V

:D <3! Oh gosh thank you yes that would be lovely! I hope you got avalanche also!

[starfallelf]

Defense

 “We’re going to learn how to defend ourselves.” “Against dark magic?” “Yes. against dark magics.” Coll scowled. “That settles it.” “... Settles what?” Parr glanced across the dinner table, over the spread of greens and bread and a distinct lacking of substantial meat.  That was enough to frustrate the non vegetarian elf in the room. It’d been a bit though, for him to get bent out of shape over that. “I’m gonna have to join this thing I guess.” Said with all the enthusiasm of an impending root canal.  Now it was Parr’s turn to frown. “Why? You don’t think I can take care of myself? There are a lot of us you know, and several of them have quite a bit of battle experience. They’re masters in their fields, Coll.”  He didn’t know if masters was overselling things but better to air on the side of bravado in this instance he felt. “Oh like hell- you know I can’t let you trounce around Ghostlands or where ever with who the hell ever and not be worried! You just said one of them is a member of, what, the black harvest? What even IS that Parr? Sounds suspicious as shit to me.” Coll glared at his twin, letting his hands freeze mid gesture. He raised a brow as if to accent how he was waiting on an actual answer. “It’s.. I think it’s a convocation of warlocks.”  “Warlocks he says.” The gesture was finished and Coll’s hands came down to hit his thighs a bit harder than he’d intended. He winced.  Parr’s jaw clenched. “Just because someone uses those kinds of magic doesnt make them bad.” “And the Ren’dorei want you to think the void doesnt corrupt either but we both know better than that don’t we?”  He regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth.  “..Parr, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean..” “Yes you did.” Whatever hurt reaction Coll had thought he would get he didnt find. Parr sat  calmly across from him, albeit a bit stiff. “It’s a fair argument. But I didn’t seek it out. There is a difference. Besides, they are using their expertise to help us not to be hurt like that. You can see the benefit, right?” There was a long stretch of silence as Coll’s chair scraped back and he stood to pour something stronger than water. When he returned to the table he sat a glass down for Parr too. “I can. But I’d still like to join. Soon. Peace is becoming less of a peaceful subject the longer she’s in charge. You’re gonna need all the shields you can get.”

[starfallelf]

Parr sat at the small kitchen table, tracing heart shapes onto pink colored paper. A small stack of already cut out paper hearts sat nearby.  He could recall sitting at this table and doing this very thing many years ago. The holiday of love always fell around the time they had taken a visit to the cottage. Parr and Coll had enjoyed the sugary treats and brightly colored pageantry everywhere this time of year. Now he wondered if they hadn’t visited more for their mother than anything else. Their uncle always conveniently just so happened to be staying nearby and offered to babysit. It wasnt often their parents had gotten time to themselves.  They’d sat here many times coloring in heart shapes and sneaking sickeningly sweet chocolates with pink strawberry centers. Min’da and An’da were gone, but little traditions like this kept them close. Using a pen he poked holes on either side of the cut out hearts, stringing a ribbon through. The resulting decoration would be hug over the door and when Coll came home bearing a box of strawberry and chocolate treats purchased from a vendor in Silvermoon on his way home from work the twins would sit at the kitchen table and reminisce.  Few things taste sweeter than chocolate and fond memories. 

[starfallelf]

Thunder shook the windows in their casings, lightning streaking the sky. In between he could hear the steady thrum of hard rain on the roof. Each crack of thunder made him jump despite himself. He paused, glancing around the small, dark, room. He counted after a flash lit up the room, making it to 4 before another loud crack of thunder split the sky. Less than a mile.  Slowly Parr pushed himself up from his bed, curling his pillow under his arm and dragging the small blanket around his shoulders. He could see well enough in the dark, and even if he couldnt he knew this house like the back of his hand.  He didnt even wait for a flash of lightning to illuminate Coll’s room before pushing the door wider and stumbling inside.  The other elf laid on his back, arm thrown over his face. He didn’t snore, per-say, but sometimes his deep breaths could sound a little like a bear waking up. Parr pushed his shoulder, waiting a beat before doing it again.  “Scoot over.” “Nnnngh..” Coll groaned a protest, but flopped about until he was pushed against the wall, stubbornly refusing to open his eyes.  Wordlessly after that, Parr climbed into the warm bed, curling down and sapping heat like he’d done for literal years. 

[seatrench]

Victoria cruziana

(source)

[starfallelf]

“Coll! Coll!” The small voice called to him from the window and when he looked up Parr waved his arm wildly, breaking into a loud peel of laughter as their mother scooped him back toward the bed, crooking her finger at her son still outside before disappearing.  Parr had always been sickly, ending up cloistered inside and in bed from time to time through the years. It was so common it was natural feeling, though there was never anything natural about being separated from his twin.  “Looks like he’s feeling better.” Elthore’s soft voice broke the quiet and Coll glanced up at his uncle as they walked.  “He always feels better after a while.” “Mm.” The ranger was quiet a moment. “I think he’ll like your gift.” Coll frowned down at the little box in his hand. “He’ll know you carved it.” “But you picked it out.” “Coll!” Nothing was stopping the little blond from springing from bed to tackle his twin the moment Coll had walked in the bedroom. Despite his initial scowl, Coll quickly curled his arms around his slighter brother.  Tension he didnt know he was holding in slid away and he squeezed his eyes shut, squeezing Parr tighter.  “Coll, you’re smooshing me..” Instantly he let go, stepping back and thrusting the small box out between them. “Here. For the holiday thing.” “I got you one too! Minn’da helped me braid it.” Parr handed his gift over at the same time, wrapped loosely in a cloth napkin. Inside, a braided bracelet made of smooth leather strips and a deep iron fastener. It looked much like the one their uncle wore, and their father, under his mage’s robes.  “A leaf!” Parr held up the necklace he’d removed from his box, the small carved wooden pendant hanging from the leather cord.  “Um.. or a feather. But, yeah it does kinda look like a leaf doesn’t it...” Coll leaned in, peering at it closer. 

Coll’s fingers moved unconsciously to slip beneath the sleeve of his other arm, brushing the worn leather bracelet fondly.  “Coll?” 

He glanced up, grinning widely at the quizzical look Parr was giving him. Parr, whole and healthy and hands on hips in the way he did when Coll had ignored him one too many times. He was dressed down for a lazy weekend dinner- they both were- and Coll grinned wider when he saw a little wooden pendant slide from Parr’s shirt collar when the druid bent down to peer in his face.  “Whats wrong with you?” Parr tilted his head, squinting at his twin. “Nothing nerd, what’re we eating?” “I’m not a nerd! Nerd! You’re the one who writes poetry!”

[maureen2musings]

We Were Kings

chaitdeshphotography

[starfallelf]

Tithe of Remembrance

“Each of these lanterns represent someone lost..” There were so many of them. Floating and twinkling between the trees as the sun set over the mountain range, the lanterns reminded him of fireflies. He  wondered if this was what the forests of the great tree had looked like too- alight with wisps.  Parr had never seen a wisp, but he couldn’t imagine them being much prettier than this.  He stood and listened to the speeches, donned in his best robes. A gift from Ruuna, they’d arrived after he’d returned to Quel’thalas. He didn’t see the tauren among the crowd but he could feel her presence. He could feel a lot of things here, right now, in this moment. So many druids and shaman present- so much conviction and hope in one place. So many individuals gathered for something like this. It made the air hum.  Parr tilted his head back to look up. He wondered if Elune herself was watching- he knew Malorne was. Almost as an answer to his thoughts clouds passing across the moon dissipated and the white lady brightened the sky. He smiled. Someone in the crowd mentioned the warchief’s bat riders and Parr’s attention shifted briefly. There would be no bat riders here. And no spies lurking in the dark. The trees would bend to hide them first. Without fear but just enough nervousness, he’d followed Gotosh, Zargaron, Kirrox, and Karanga to a wide spot amid the trees. Here, Gotosh explained, was where they would help a new tree grow. A symbol of mourning and of hope. A promise to keep trying, and an oath. Oaths are personal things, so that was left unspoken.  Standing there, surrounded by so many gifted speakers of nature, it was easy for him to remember he was just a novice. A novice and a blood elf- not a typical recipient of druidic magics. It helped to know he wasn’t the only one! He’d heard of others- he’d wondered if he’d seen some tonight. And he gave a little wish as the crowd gathered round. Malorne, help me do this right.  Fears and worries disappeared when the magic began to flow. Parr sighed deeply, closing his eyes and opening his hands. In his mind’s eye the dark was slowly filled with light. Soft and green like new growth it rose and coiled and snaked upward as a vine. It was both warm like the sun and cool like a spring breeze. It was so many things always and at once and it never failed to fill him with wonder. When his eyes opened they radiated the magic he released alongside the others. Green tinged with gold, softer and warmer than the felglow underneath. Deeper.  The crowd disappeared, blotted out by the magic and the warmth and the light. A crescendo of wind and rustling leaves and the sounds of crickets and wings and then something that sounded like a sigh but not from any mortal mouth. And the tree broke from the earth and reached for the moon, branches unfurling and leaves and buds appearing and dancing on still reaching limbs. It was a sight and Parranis paused to stare, magic leaving his bones like the ebb of the ocean.  Gotosh spoke, but the words were lost under the roaring in his ears. His eyes never left the tree. Soon the crowd was moving, offerings and gifts and mementos left one by one from shaking hands. The tithe of remembrance.  The clearing was nearly empty when his feet found their way closer to the new tree. Fingers moving of their own accord, slipping into his hair to remove the only thing he had to give. A broach of simple silver shaped like a crescent moon. The piece had lost it’s luster after months in the dirt in Lordaeron before being found again. The only thing they’d found of her and he’d never been without it since.  Parr looked down at the jewelry in his open palm. The tarnished metal caught the light from lanterns hovering above.  This was a memorial for more than a tree. For more than the act of war that night. This night was about choice. Choosing to go forward with faith to act. Choosing not to linger in the past.  Choosing to let go. “For you minn’da.” Reaching up he laid the broach on a spot where a branch split, before turning toward feast and fellowship.

@azerothpeacecouncil

[azerothpeacecouncil]

An Honoring of Teldrassil. 

Speeches. Regrowth. Feast.