#areiel

[uninspired--poet]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

“What day is it?” Jaina’s voice was hoarse as the firelit bedroom slowly came into focus. She'd been talking to herself, mostly, but within an instant, the soft beating of bare feet against marble floors signaled Sylvanas’s imminent arrival.

“Are you okay?” Sylvanas asked rather urgently as she climbed into the bed to kneel at Jaina’s side.

[uninspired--poet]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

“Once upon a time, there was a young girl. A wild girl that grew up in the trees. As much a creature of the forest as she ever was an elf. All elves were like her, then. But she wasn’t like all elves.”

“Because she was magic,” Vereesa offered with a knowing smile.

“That’s right,” Lireesa said. “Because she was magic.”

[uninspired--poet]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Alleria frowned deeply as she watched her mother’s face. She gave up nothing. It had been so long since she’d given up anything, so stony and impassive was her gaze.

“Will nothing move you?” Alleria asked pensively. She would’ve been lying if she’d said it wasn’t a little painful. Perhaps the lingering effects of her ordeal were making her overly sensitive to it. Perhaps she missed her mother. Perhaps, above all else, it was best not to think about that.

“I am moved, Alleria,” Lireesa said quietly, still holding Alleria’s gaze despite her propensity to look away from it. “I’ve heard you. The stone is broken. Winter seeps into the crack that has been left in the vale. I am moved.”

“And yet you sit like a statue,” Alleria accused, having to forcefully keep her voice from wavering.

Her eyes flashed to the side as Areiel slipped from the room, and then they settled back on her mother.

“You sit like a statue while those around you cling to who you were,” Alleria whispered. “And you wait. And you wait. For what, Lireesa? For what do you wait? Our demise?”

[uninspired--poet]

A little love for Areiel from Wild Things.

[uninspired--poet]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Lireesa’s eyes scanned over the letter Valeera had left for her not even two days ago. Liadrin’s words echoed in her head.

Dar’Khan. All this time. He hadn’t been maneuvering politically. He hadn’t been working his way into and out of favor for monetary gain. It hadn’t even been vanity. It hadn’t been anything at all that Lireesa had guessed.

She’d been blind.

[charmedvirus]

Where the fuck are the posts about Areiel

[ggeeinblackandwhite]

“Bitch I’m Perfect.”