May 13
Her eyes closed as his fingers combed through her tresses, "I want to get closer.... I want to go up. See what else they have up there...." She turned to him, thankful her love had made it through not one - but two - battles unscathed. "Permission?"
Ruthar ran his digits along her jawline, turning her head gently to look into her eyes with a delicate and caring nature. "Not alone, dearest - and even with an army at your back, I'd be hesitant." He continued to look at her longingly, concern making its way upon his face. "
"There has to be another way to find out..." He thought aloud as he glanced back toward the spires of the Adherents.
A single tear rolled down her cheek, making a sort of tapping sound as it landed on her armor, "I suppose I shouldn't kill my son's mother on his Nameday....." Deylivia's lips formed a thin line as her cheeks flushed. Turning back around, she leaned backward against Ruthar. "I want them dead. I don't care how we have to do it."
Ruthar's eyes widened at the words, watching her as she spun around and leaned against him. Slowly he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the back of her head gently. "Oh Dey," he said softly, holding her close. "I had no idea - I'm sure he is doing something beautiful for his big day."
--------Later--------
Deylivia lay on her back, eyes affixed to the ceiling. There was no solo scouting mission to the Skyreach tonight as Ruthar had mentioned to talk some sense into her. Still, she wondered if she’d lost the fire she’d once possessed.
In the dark, she listened to Ruthar’s breathing a few more moments. Calmer than he’d been in weeks.... beautiful....starlight peeked in through the opening of their tent, making his white tresses look as though they were painted on him in pure silver. He stirred only briefly as his lover slid from beneath the protection of his left arm and she covered her mouth, stifling a giggle as he smiled, hugging himself. Whatever the medic Solaris had done for the blackened skin over the last months clearly was doing the job. He looked healthy for the moment and that thought lifted the heaviness in her heart.
Quietly, the Ranger dressed - only in the linen tank and pants she wore beneath the underlayer of her armor - and picked up her longbow and a small box from the crate that served as a bedtable. Moving outside to what remained of the cooking fire at Axefall, the Ranger set down the box and stood on a bench, lifting her bow as though taking aim. Unable to sleep, she practiced footwork, leaps, even ramming positions, lamenting she rarely fought in the up-close and personal style for which she had always been known.
After perhaps an hour, Dey sat down on one of the benches laying her weapon beside her. Leaning back on her hands, she swallowed, her eyes creating the Strawberry blonde tresses worn by Ala’stor. “Toughen up.... he’s like you. Now YOU be like you.”
Six candles were what she removed from the small box. Ruthar would simply have to do paperwork in one of the buildings. As each candle was lit, Ala’stor’s mother planted it in the sand, letting it burn down - one for each year of her son’s life. Swinging her legs up onto the bench and leaning back, her hair falling from shoulder to elbows, she stared at the sky, wondering which body above - if any - was Azeroth.
Home.
Here was worth it to preserve their home.
((snippet up top co-written by Ruthar’s player))
ronaestrider













