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@stormwrynnd-blog
<<Sometimes I wonder if the universe I come from is the good one or the doomed one.>> Heâs read about this theory before, though the mages disagree on it every way to Sunday.
<<And of course instead of trying to save what is left of it, I have to while away my time here until they pity me enough to return me home.>>
A young optimist, slowly turning cynical.
ragnathebloodedges:
His breathing remained heavy for a while, lips a tight line as he regarded the other. Slowly, his breathing steadied and the grip on his sword loosened. This guy didnât have any intentions of attacking him. He didnât plan on letting down his guard, though. He was too used to getting his ass kicked for that.
âDoes what happen to me regularly? Getting into fights? Yeah, probably. I canât really⊠remember anything that happened prior to me coming to this city. But the instincts are there.â
It was true that his memories were hazy. They were there but⊠everything felt fuzzy. Every time he started to recall something, it would feel like a hammer smashed into his skull. It was a real pain in the ass and, really, he was tired of it happening.
âShowing sympathy for a bunch of bloodthirsty monsters? These things are always roaming Sector Four, attacking people for no reason. At least, thatâs how the rumors go. Havenât been here long enough to know for myself.â
While he hadnât intended his passing attempt at conversation to be mistaken for some sort of empathy for those now-dead creatures, Anduin realizes he should have been more careful with his word choice. The man before him is obviously on edge, perhaps bordering on some level exhaustion. Or maybe itâs just a world-wary sort of tiredness.
Light knows he can relate.
<<Iâm sure youâve had nothing but a hard time since you arrived. This place is like a million little nightmares all wrapped in one.>> With no way out except at the whim of their malevolent captors, if and when they so choose. But he wonât add that tidbit in -- itâs far too negative and disheartening to give a newcomer.
<<I was just a bit worried as to whether you were truly alright or not. You, at least, I can help. Canât do much for injuries inflicted upon the mind, though, unfortunately.>>
He intends for it to come off as a lighthearted joke, but thereâs more than a little of his newfound jadedness showing through.
@galatine
He had ever so gradually adjusted to being surrounded by guards in Stormwind -- it was strange by comparison how relatively free he had been as prince -- and now Anduin was left with little more than his own voice and passing strangers to keep himself company. Certainly, he was getting along fine on his own (though the future remained to be seen), but there was something disquieting about the forced isolation.
Everyone he knew was somewhere back in Azeroth fighting to save it... And here he was, sitting on a rusting metal park bench, contemplating if perhaps he deserves this sort of horrific twist of fate for not being there for his father one final time --Â
The glint of white catches his eye, lifting his gaze up from his own tightly interlocked hands to stare dazedly at the man walking past. Where heâs going, who knows, but he has the posture and air of... well, a knight.
<<Sir -- >> He begins to call out, but stops himself. What kind of king calls upon complete strangers? Anduin redirects his focus back to his hands, the knuckles now ghast-white from his own grip, as he prays quietly under his breath that the man has not heard him (or dismisses him like some sort of lunatic).
BOLD ANY FEARS WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. ITALICISE WHAT MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE.
TAGGED BY:Â @atonings
TAGGING:Â idk (shia labeouf voice) just do it (if you want to)
the dark â fire â open water â deep water â being alone â crowded spaces â confined spaces â change â failure â war â loss of control â powerlessness â prison â blood â drowning â suffocation â public speaking â natural animals â the supernatural â heights â death â dying â intimacy â rejection â abandonment â loss â the unknown â the future â not being good enough â scary stories â speaking to new people â poverty â loud noises â being touched â forgetting
@stormwrynnd || starter call
ââ â âThe beast sits upon his haunches and WHIMPERS. A swivel of furry ears back and forth and a snout sniffing piteously. Tail caught between his legs, the man-turned-wolf is in a BIT of a fuss. Why? Well, the sandwich he had balanced upon his paws just turned into a giant dog biscuit. âNow, this is JUST insulting,â he growls.
He stands back for a moment, one hand cupping his own cheek as he briefly wonders what heâs stumbled his way into this time. Anduin has met many a Worgen (they are, after all, part of the many allied with the Alliance) but none of them quite looked or acted like this. Still, the new king of Stormwind is nonplussed -- and ready to help.
<<Perhaps I could go get you something more suitable to eat?>> Then, he remembers: <<If I had but a single silver on my person, that is.>>
@stormwrynnd
He stood panting heavily, fingers gripping the hilt of the wooden sword heâd been given upon coming here. The wood was splintered in some spots, blood dripping from the blade as he glanced around at the three dead wolves at his feet. It wasnât as though heâd had too much difficulty with them, heâd just been pissed off that theyâd attacked him in the first place. Seriously, heâd just been walking along, minding his own goddamn business.
âHey, asshole. You want some too? Iâm givinâ âem out like theyâre free samples.â He didnât actually want to fight the guy. But if there was one thing heâd learned, it was that people liked to make an attack after one was done fighting. When they were at their weakest point and, really, he was pretty wiped. He wasnât really wanting to fight.
If this city had nothing good to offer, then at least what it did give Anduin was interesting, if nothing else. Quite frankly, heâd had enough of interesting and excitement and change -- there was far too much of that at home as it was -- but at least it was not another of the Legion come to end his life.Â
He takes a few steps backward, giving the man a once-over. No, heâs definitely not a demon (as far as he can tell; they all seem to recognize him as a target anyhow), just a rather misguided, angry man.
Heâs dealt with worse.
<<I have no interest in fighting anyone.>> Here, anyway; itâs a half-truth, half-lie heâd prefer to leave unspoken. Everyone takes him for a pacifist anyhow -- and really, that is what heâs good at: defusing situations.Â
<<You donât appear to be in need of assistance on the surface... though I canât say the same for those beasts there. Does this sort of thing happen to you regularly?>>Â
<<I suppose Iâll be healing the injured after... this.>>
Whatever one calls this strange turn of events, heâs not sure.
ooc. a quick ad (gonna post one on todoroki + marisa when iâm not on mobile later tonight) to try and get things started again. capping at three.
what. [closed]
Red eyes widened in shock, seeing Anduin look so⊠distraught. Even after the incident with the Divine Bell, Anduin had never looked so crushed.
With all the swiftness he possessed, Wrathion lifted himself over the back of the couch, talking quick strides to be at Anduinâs side. Rage was slowly overtaking him. He didnât really have any clue what was going on, but Anduin was hurt and thatâs all that mattered.
Crouching by his friend, Wrathion put a gloved hand on his companionâs shoulder, hoping it was a comforting gesture. He glared up at the taller man, red eyes shining with barely contained fury.
   âWhat did you do to Anduin?â Wrathion hissed, smoke escaping in whisping curls from the corners of his mouth as he spoke.
His first instinct is to snarl at this stranger, low and feral, fangs bared. Liam doesnât much appreciate the interruption, let alone by some snotty brat who had hurt Anduin far more than he had in the first place.
âThatâs none of your business.â
Yet the words âyou diedâ keep reverberating in his head, seeping into the marrow of his bones, chilling him from the inside. No, heâs quite certain heâs always been alive, even though heâd been prepared to give his life for his people those years ago.Â
âGilneas is⊠lost. We could not take it back.â Liamâs voice cracks, and he has to clear his throat twice, wary of making eye contact. He wishes so to wipe those tears away, to comfort his friend. Something is off, he knows that much, and it makes the hair on his neck stand on end.Â
âI⊠donât know whatâs going on, but I can assure you, Iâm alive and well⊠Iâm sorry, Anduin, I never meant to hurt you.â
Slowly, he reaches out, brushing his thumb over the young princeâs cheek.
He wonders if heâs used mind vision; it feels like heâs watching himself amidst all this, Wrathionâs hand on his shoulder, the momentary flicker of Liamâs finger upon his face. Itâs like heâs not even there, but for the fact that he can feel all of it. Otherwise, Anduin might as well not even be here. Just a shadow, a spectre.
Isnât Liam supposed to be the ghost here?
Heâs vaguely aware that the two -- both still his comrades, he realizes, despite what has happened to either of them -- are on the edge of fighting and, frankly, heâs not sure who would come out worse. In fact, heâd really rather neither of them went for the otherâs throat when heâs just gotten them both back and in one piece. That helps him focus again, brings the world back into clarity long enough for him to shove himself between the two.
He canât really figure out who to face, so Anduin settles on twisting his head back and forth every few seconds -- maybe heâll be able to intercept a punch with himself should one of the two attempt such a thing.
<<Liam... Wrathion.... Look, I may not have figured out what is going on at this moment, but, by the Light, if either of you start a fight I will stop it!>>
what. [closed]
liamgreymane:
blackflightprince:
Rolling his eyes, Wrathion still held his hand to his bleeding face. He wasnât angry at the prince, not at all, but did he really have to throw something pointy at him? Really?
   âI just didnât expect you to take after your fatherâs fashion sense,â the dragon snorted. Still, Wrathion couldnât help but smile faintly back at Anduin, chuckling. âYou still havenât lost that damned softness, have you?â
He pinches his nose, trying to stem the flow of blood, when he looked up he saw Anduinâs attention placed elsewhere. Now his eyes narrowed in suspicion (not jealousy, alright) at the tall figure in the door. A tall figure Anduin seemed to know.
Wrathion huffed, leaning over the back of the couch, glaring at the red-head without a hint of subtlety. Who was this that made Anduinâs voice hitch, and tears? He let out a growl, trying to look menacing, when in reality he looked like a sulking, pouting child.
He had been watching, silent, possibly hoping for a real fight to break out, and mild disappointment coursed through him when Anduin settled down and apologized for something Liam was sure he was in the right for, ultimately.
Anduinâs response to nearly bumping into him moments later, however, is not on his list of things to expect, and his brows knit together, brass eyes flashing with worry, annoyance at whatever had taken residence upon the couch forgotten instantly.
âAnduin, are you okay?âÂ
He reaches out, placing his hands on the blondâs shoulder to steady him, movements slow and surprisingly gentle, a gesture of comfort.Â
âItâs not something Iâve done, is it? I swear I can explain.â
The last thing he wants is for tears to be shed over him, despite his often rash and bullheaded actions.Â
It is as though he sees a ghost. Wrathionâs smart remarks go unanswered, if only because Anduin finds himself unable to focus on this much happening at once.Â
(He is crying, he realizes now, and he doesnât know which reason why: heâs alive, heâs alive?, or this is far beyond my capacity to comprehend. Both.)
Liam touching his shoulder breaks whatever spell of silence had been keeping him mute, and suddenly Anduin feels very much like the small child he so desperately wished to stop being. Yet, here he is again; the realization makes him stagger back several paces in an attempt to find something to steady himself with before his knees fail him entirely. It ends up being a fruitless effort, though, in that he sinks to his knees gracelessly, head hanging low to his chest.
<<You... died, did you know? Defending Gilneas. Taking it -- taking -- >>
what. [closed]
liamgreymane:
blackflightprince:
The âwelcoming communityâ had shoved a bunch of what seemed to be random useless items in his arms and pushed him to his new home. He put the vase of flowers â wilted flowers â on a countertop, and after a minute of inspection, put the strange device (headphones, is that what the people called them?) next to them.
He proceeded to sit on the couch with the box of what he new to be some kind of food. He knew it was food because it smelled like food. What kind of food it was, he had not slightest the clue. As he was inspecting the box of the half-eaten mysterious cuisine, he heard the door open, and looked over his shoulder, setting the box on the coffee table.
What a surprise when a familiar blonde prince stepped into the room, and Wrathionâs face broke out into the widest grin possible. He was about to open his mouth, greet his old friend, when Anduin Wrynn threw a bag at him. At his face. A bag of heavy objects at his face.
   âBy theââ Wrathion swore as he felt the corner of something his his forehead. He didnât even notice the blood starting to run down his face as he glared.
   âBy the Titans, Anduin Wrynn.â Wrathion hissed, holding a hand over his nose, which was also bleeding. âDid I really deserve that?â
Wrathionâs glare melted away into a quizzical look when he actually took a good once over at the Alliance prince.
   ââŠis that a ponytail?â
Such a strange place indeed. This city was nothing like Gilneas City, or even Stormwind, both of which he was intimately familiar with, despite his homeland being lost to ferals and forsaken. None of the smells were familiar, leaving Liam more than a little disoriented.
Anger had given way for not just caution and confusion, but also curiosity, calming his frayed nerves somewhat. At the very least, he had been given a destination, and even from the outside, his new home (though it feels wrong to call it that) seems welcoming.Â
The door had been left ajar, and the prince can only guess his room mates had already arrived. What he did not expect to walk in on was a budding fight. He pauses, leaning against the kitchen wall, watching from a distance. Impossible to not recognize one of them, he knows Anduin Wrynn is not one to get angry. Exasperated, sure, but the other man must have done something rather terrible.
Liam knows he should intervene, but it seems like a waste to not watch it all develop for a moment longer.
Heâd like to scream at Wrathion, though what good it will do eludes him. There would be some immediate gratification, yes -- how could you leave, how could you do that, how could you lie to me  -- but ultimately, Anduin realizes, he would receive no answers to his questions.Â
So, despite his rage, rare and ill-wanted as it is, he takes a deep breath and searches for something better to say than the angry tirades that have plagued him in dreams ever since that day.
<<You didnât think I was going to wear my hair like a young boy forever, did you?>> The young prince of Stormwind forces his smile, lips pressed tightly together as if to seal in words that would rather be spoken. Then: <<I... I apologize, I donât know what I was thinking when I -- I threw all of the gifts I was given upon arrival. Let me close this door and -- >>
Of course, this would not be the end of his woes by far, for turning around to close the door -- using magic in plain sight did not seem like such a terribly smart idea -- Anduin comes face to face with a ghost.Â
Actually, itâs more face to chest, and Liam Greymane feels very, very solid.
Now, heâs not sure if there are any words to be managed; three years before he hadnât any either, all superseded by the effort heâd expended trying to conceal the tears heâd wished to shed upon learning his friend was dead and gone and buried and Anduin hadnât even been told.
He steps back, a heaviness resting on his chest that heâd thought gone, finally.
<<...You canât. Arenât. You --Â >>
what. [closed]
stormwrynnd > blackflightprince > liamgreymane
The house seems nice enough, all things considered.
...All things considered, Anduinâs still stuck in some strange city with little else than the clothes on his back and the little bag of âgiftsâ heâs been given -- flashlight, poetry, music box -- so it feels somehow inappropriate to react so calmly to the situation.
All things considered, he feels rather blank, adrift in the strange peace that is the mixture of shock and confusion; at least he has a destination to anchor him to reality in the haze. He knows there are supposed to be two other occupants in this house, courtesy of the project, but the possibilities of who they might be donât cross his mind as anything but an afterthought.
Then he opens the door -- unlocked, strangely, though he doesnât think much of this -- and nearly throws his bag across the room at the man seated on the couch.
<<Wrathion? ...Wrathion?!>> Then he throws the bag across the room, poetry be damned.
All things considered, he realizes he could have reacted better about a second too late.
mischief rondo | closed
   âHa!â
   The black dragonflight whelpling circled in the air, flapping his wings excitedly, and unable to stay in one spot for long. The energies he lost since coming to this city surged back to him in an instance, and he let out a breath of fire in the air in excitement.
   With a puff of smoke, he landed on the ground, his feet hitting the ground, grinning at his Alliance companion.
   âDonât tell me youâre losing your spirit, Anduin Wrynn! Iâll have to pick up your slack!â
The black dragonâs enthusiasm, while difficult to match, is infectious regardless. While the young prince has never held any particular love for war or battles, fighting alongside a comrade is... heartening, in a way that makes the task less a necessity and more the thrill he sees people like his father take from it.
Still, Anduin is masking a bit of nervousness -- Light willing, it will fade soon.
<<More like saving it for the battle ahead! I donât think this war is going to be a quick one, Wrathion.
<<Speaking of quick, youâd best turn around fast to greet our new company.>>
mischief rondo | closed
blackflights
It feels like itâs been years since heâs felt the Light like this, but surely it hasnât been that long. Not long enough for him to forget what the surge of righteousness feels like when he casts, brings down a surge of holy energy upon the strange blobs that seem intent on attacking -- and the people that accompany them, though he tries to keep himself as far away from the invading lot as possible. Their sentries are much easier to fend off.
Wrathion helping makes it a lot easier, though the sight of him in whelp form almost makes him laugh at several very inappropriate times.
<<Youâre getting far too passionate about this, my friend. Perhaps we should hold and conserve our energy?>>
ok so home world anduin is better off thanks to the timely return of all his ~*~priestly magics~*~ so ideally iâd like to have him running around helping folks out (healing, mostly, though he does have offensive magic thanx shadow priest) and generally (hopefully) making himself useful.
and... on the other hand, alter anduin, also known as what is called shadow king anduin the fuck me up au. ok, anyway, short of it is that anduin witnessed the death of his father when he was younger upon his attempted return to retake the throne/defeat onyxia and ended up sinking to the darker side of the shadow priestâs skillset to take revenge. itâs... had a corrupting effect on him, and considering heâs now king at 18, life is not so great. anduin is unstable and liable to lash out at others, and in possession of stronger magical ability and more skewed morality than his homeworld self. way down in there, though, heâs still got that goodness -- we hope.
ooc; depending on how things go⊠well, for now, consider all non-event threads temporarily on hold. if i do any non-event replies, itâll be after iâve taken care of event threads! youâre also free to message me if youâd like to plot or thread for the event.Â
lovestrukk | closed;wrathion
   Truthfully, Wrathion has resigned himself to not coming across anyone he had known before. The pangs of loneliness were brushed aside with practiced ease, though the absence of Left and Right was poignant. He vaguely thought back to the crisp mountain air, a warm fire, and a game board in front of him, as he played a round withâŠ
   âŠAnduin Wrynn?
   The happiness at seeing his blonde acquaintance soon peaked to curiosity as he watched the Alliance prince give a painful jolt, as if he was poked with hot iron or perhaps electrocuted by a shamanâs lightning. He frowned, and started making his way over, his brow now wrinkling with some worry if Anduinâs injuries resurfaces themselves.
   Until he saw Anduin rubbing his backside and looking around to see if anyone saw him acting so⊠undignified. Of course, Wrathion was not the type to turn down a laugh at Anduin Wrynnâs strange antics, so he let the natural course of laughter flow through him, holding his gloved hand to his belly and he broke into cackles. He let them die down as Anduin greeted him, regarding the prince with a friendly smile.
   "You should learn to expect me in unexpected places, Anduin Wrynn."
   He grinned and puffed his chest, almost proud that the prince was suspicious of him having some greater plan.
   "Ah, well, if I should happen to think of some grand scheme, youâll be the first to know, my friend."
   It was nice to fall back into the familiar and comfortable banter with Anduin.
Though Anduin would be loath to say it, the feeling washing over him right now is that of genuine relief that there is someone he considers a friend -- a confidante, really -- here in the city. As much as he'd rather they were both safe in Azeroth...
Well, as safe as one could get.
Grinning ear to ear, the prince of Stormwind nonetheless cannot hide his joy at Wrathion's appearance here. Though, it seems, something has felt off ever since that bite to the backside -- but in a good way, like there is a warmth pulsing throughout him. The Light is shining, and nothing can go wrong from here.
<<Does that mean I should have been watching sewage drains and the canals for your face? I'd think you'd take a ship instead.>>
<<Jesting aside, I appreciate being allowed in on the wondrous inner workings of the black prince's mind! ...Really.>>
Overflowing. It's like his body can't keep up with the rest of his mind, his emotions. It's an impulsive decision, really:
Anduin leans forward to wrap his arms around his good friend's shoulders in a tight squeeze. In the back of his mind, he wonders if perhaps this will be offputting to the other, but...
It feels quite right.
