#amaracraven

[chavent]

A Black Rose

It was an innocent incidence. A broken man met a peculiar elf. Gods forbid anyone knew he was broken, but what else was expected of a Gilnean? They stood just next to the constantly rushing water of the Canals, overlooking the recently rebuilt Park. Crimson greeted her the same way he greeted all individuals, 

“‘Lo.”

“Evening,” the elf responded, giving the Gilnean a look of indifference. 

Crimson, clad in a red and black suit of armor, had a mask drawn up to hide his guise; he also wore a hood, exposing only the slightest hint of his eyes.

“How’re you?” It continued as such, exchanging pleasantries and subtle flirtations. 

Days and nights had passed. The two spent time in his home city of Gilneas, met up a few times to have drinks; she even started spending nights at his residence in Ironforge. Crimson quickly learned that being with her was just... easy. He found himself adoring the way her purple and white hair fell to rest just above her rear; how she carried herself in such a confident and carefree way. Though his eyes cannot see color, he could see many of them in her own cerulean orbs. Her dark skin was to die for; so was the way her womanly curves adorned her adorably short frame.

She didn’t care about his marred visage which Crimson so often hid. She didn’t care that he had lost all that made him human, nor did she care about who he truly was. The truth is: she was no different than he. She was just as ruthless, just as brutal, and just as loving of it. Seeing her handle the breaking of Sweet William had pushed any doubts away and locked in a feeling of assurance.

He wanted this woman.

Though she kept her two lives separate, just as he did, he was readily welcome into both; so was she. Crimson could see it then. He could see everything the two of them could accomplish together. He found it so easy to tell her things he had kept a secret for such an agonizingly long time. 

Look out, Azeroth.

[jocelynherit-blog]

I'll Just Think On It

Meditation, that was what she was told to add onto her already long list of shit to do. Jo felt with certainty that she was going to struggle with that. She had tried it in the past with no luck at all in finding any answers. The experiment of the day before still irked her in its absolute failure, and who really wants to sit down and think about what they fucked up? “All I did was try and show where we are failing. That fucking elf and her damned attitude will never change. I tried though, tried to show how we are letting animosity for each other tear us apart and leave us vulnerable. Don’t they know our enemies could do the same thing I did and with more dire results?” She knew she was guilty of the same thing, being cold to some and friendly to others. She even admitted her faults during the meeting, only to have it devolve into bickering and pettiness. Jo closed her eyes and did her best to calm herself. Reaching back to see where she went wrong, she knew she had been to nice, hadn’t commanded the meeting. She had been more like a participant, a member of the audience. “Well, that shit is going to change, I can’t expect any to follow if I don’t lead.” Jo returned to sharpening her blades, smirking at the thoughts in her mind. “Or maybe I’ll just fucking stab a couple of them. Counter-productive… but I will fell better.” (( If someone knows Venita’s Tumblr can you tag them for mentions?))

[fleet-footed]

cool grey: if your muse could ensure one thing for certain in their future to come, what would it be?

Colorful Headcanons

Gosh.

I think she’d ensure her ability to make Mother proud, to not fail her and to continue to prove her loyalty as Mother demands it.  Even if that meant ensure slicing her own throat thousands of time, she’d still want to guarantee it.

[jocelynherit-blog]

It just wasn’t fair, at least that is how Jo saw it. She stared at the balled up sheet, knowing it contained what dust and fragments were left of the one she had loved so dearly. She couldn’t make herself take the next step, couldn’t face it any more. The shadows were nearly always present now, lingering nearby and offering the only solace available to her. Was it a nightmare…an illusion….or had she deluded herself into believing everything was going to be ok?

Kierianne’s death had set her back quite a bit, had given the shadows all the opportunity they needed to begin to warp Jo and change her. She could feel it happening, knew it was so…and yet did nothing to prevent it.

“At least the tears have stopped, or is that a bad thing? Is there nothing to cry about anymore or have I become so jaded that I can no longer cry?”

Jo leaned back, lit a match and tossed it into the stacks of wood that lay beneath the iron pot she had piled what remained of Kierianne into. The fire started soon enough, eventually catching the sheet on fire. She watched it burn, the fire growing and becoming a furnace. It reduced the sheet and the quite dangerous remains of Kierianne into a pile of harmless ash. Jo eventually sat up and began to take a walk as the fire raged on. She thought of how her life had changed, how she was behaving and what had occurred. She knew she should be ashamed, that she was becoming a slave to the voices the shadows brought with them.

“I took that poor woman’s eye without a second thought, ripped it from her and made her eat it. What the fuck is wrong with me? What have I become?”

Jo knew she had simply made excuses in blaming the stranger for making her do what she had done to Val. She knew deep down she despised that Torch for being what she could no longer be. Val had been a bright star, and now was dimmed and nearly extinguished.

“Delusions are a wonderful thing if you can make yourself believe them.”

Jo made her way back to the fire, and scooped the now harmless ashes from the pot. She placed them in a rather beautiful and ornate jewel encrusted box she had made for the occasion. As she closed the lid, she felt that chapter of her life close as well, knowing their was no way back now….that road was now closed.

“Time to make my way to Pandaria, I don’t know if that is where she wishes to spend eternity, but of all the whining and complaining that fucking women did she never complained about that place.”

[jocelynherit-blog]

The Future

The future, grey enough for the best of people, felt like something completely intangible for Jo. She had turned a corner somewhere and couldn’t find her way back. The stranger had been noticeably absent as of late, no word on what to train on, or if in fact the training would continue. Her ribs were killing her, the injuries were needless and shouldn’t have happened in the first place. “Fucking shit Kierianne, you never fucking listen. Every time it’s like herding cats with you, one fucking impulse after another.” Jo was half drunk now, and out of booze. The idea of getting up and finding more or purchasing it felt like a bit too much. “Self pity and a hangover sounds about right. I’ll just lay here and suffer for a while.” The mantle of leadership was not one she wore comfortably, her temper got in the way nearly every time. “I love that fucking woman, but sometimes I want to bash her head in.” Jo forced herself to relax, the tension she was feeling wasn’t doing the hangover or her ribs any good. She went back to small breaths, not wanting her chest to move. Sleep eventually came, the best cure for what ailed her.

[jocelynherit-blog]

The weight of it all, the sheer burden it had placed on her was too much. She couldn’t concentrate. She sought escape in her training, a moment’s respite from her thoughts. “Fucking concentrate Jo, pay attention dumbass.” She buried her emotions, and found at least some success in her attempts to mimic what the stranger had instructed her to do. Her feet ached, her legs burned and she was a sweaty dirty mess. Over and over again she did it, becoming more proficient as she did so. She finally felt like she was able to at least forget what she had done, pain had a way of doing that. The more she ached, the further she could stuff that terrible memory down into the recesses of her mind. She had already worn right through one pair of shoes and was nearly done with her current pair. On and on she went, all night. She knew sleep wasn’t an option, and had decided to use the time productively. All night she practiced, blisters on her feet from sliding and climbing. It was bound to happen, a matter of time. She tripped, falling to the ground and ripping the stitches from her torso. She laid there, applying pressure to the wound as the memory came flooding back to her. It only needed her to stop before it reared its ugly misshapen head. She could hear that child’s voice crystal clear, “Mommy….Daddy?” The tears fell down her cheeks, she couldn’t hold them back. The stranger thankfully couldn’t see her, she knew it would only bring criticism anyway. She finally nodded off from exhaustion. The wound trickled blood for a few minutes before it too finally nodded off and closed itself off.

[pearlhalo]

"I believe it is time you and I have a little chit chat, my jewel. Just like we used to in the alleyways, hm?"

Pale lips twitched in the faintest of smiles; an expression the mender kept hidden from Nobody.  “I thought you would never mention those.  Are we not a little old for desperate -- ah… conversation in back alleyways, my thief?”  Almost absently one hand lifted to rub at a spot just above her heart, easing an old pain it would seem.

][ @amaracraven ][

[pearlhalo]

frost blue: does your muse enjoy the snow and cold? or are they the type to enjoy summer more?

Colorful Headcanons

Snow and cold, by far.  Aevirious is a creature fond of heavy robes with long sleeves and high collars, as well as hoods, scarves, gloves, and cloaks.  Her wardrobe is much better suited to a wintery climate than a warm one.  Besides, insects tend to die off in the winter and she has a very good excuse to not leave her home if it’s snowy.