#athen corelli

[thefuckingsun]

Adventures!

[brightdayboards]

Character aesthetics: Athen Corelli (World of Warcraft)

“There’s a creature inside’a me.. It slithers, it coils tightly at the base of my spine. It eats at me. It needs. Sometimes I’m not a person at all. Sometimes I’m just this vessel. Do you know what it’s like to be a chrysalis? To know that ye’re incomplete? I do.”

[thefuckingsun]

[thefuckingsun]

Kintsυgi҉

[thefuckingsun]

Athen and her children (Roman, Casimir, and Rory)!

[thefuckingsun]

Prologue

 In evening’s last light the ferry slipped into the harbor. Shouting boatsmen and the groaning of what had been in motion reluctantly coming to a stop had roused the traveler from the threshold of reverie. There wasn’t much she had brought and while she was but a moment in collecting her bag and her cloak, she was dreadfully slow once on her swollen, booted feet. Like a dream, she glided and weaved through laborers and passengers alike. A soft, white ghost, rolling as carefully as morning mist with her hood drawn low over her features and her form shrouded in yards of ivory wool.

 Again on the cobbled lanes of Candlelight Cove. Again pressed on all sides by dread and heavy fog and the feeling that she wasn’t far at all from her painfully messy demise. Was she worried for those that might come to her? Did she care that heeding her call could very well be a death sentence for all? No. Her hooded head bobbed as she dared not to laugh, a strangled sort of snort escaping from the shadows. Any who dared to answer were doomed, whether they came or not, but at least she could give them a chance to fight, and maybe, if enough cared to dip their toes into the mystery, a chance to win.

 The Weary Ember welcomed her coins with little fanfare. A private room was procured. Ale offered at the bar. She couldn’t accept, not when she was still tinted green from far too many hours of inky black waves churning all around. She took a small, simple meal, watching the doorway to the tavern intently between bites, wondering if any of those among the merchants were travelers who had come on her behest. Who would sit with her in just a few days’ time? What tales would they have to tell?  Would they believe anything that she had to say?

 The prospect of a bed called to her, but it was best that she paid it no heed. She couldn’t count, even on her fingers, how long it had been since she had truly slept because she wasn’t sure which quick few minutes of sitting with shut eyes, or the fleeting moments of half-conscious cat naps she could honestly call sleep. Her bones ached with exhaustion. Her limbs were sore and seemed to always hold a chill. But it was better than the dreams. She wanted to stay here - in the world of the awake - with her children and her mate - for as long as possible before she dove into looming realities which she might never escape. 

 Once in her room she slid the latch into place and pulled the slatted shutters tight across the window, keeping Westmoore out as best she could. As bathwater poured and she peeled herself free of her traveling clothes her wide, uncharacteristically frowning, lips pressed together tight. There was so much to do. There were unknowable things awaiting them.

There was so much at stake.

@the-children @saimbere @theredrighthanddedchild @voidtorrent @mercutiomalache

[thefuckingsun]

In the end, he couldn’t understand anything but physical comfort. In the end, it was only her touch and her arms wrapped around him that kept him calm, that quelled his angry, confused lashing out, or his unbearable howling. In the end, not even her love could save him.

He had been so great. So strong. So powerful. But nothing could stop the deterioration. There was no magic nor medicine originating on Azeroth that would reverse, or even slow, the unraveling of his mind. And it was unraveling itself quickly.

Through bruises and bites, she begged him not to go. She pleaded for him to never leave her again. He would whimper in his sleep, and she would gently caress his sweat-slick head and watch his limbs twitch as he dreamed. Her tears stained his face when she kissed him and whispered his names, the names of her dearest friends.

In the end, he was gone. Not even a body left behind the mourn over. In the end, she held herself and his memory and wished that she might die so the pain would ease. And in the end, as her world went black and she slipped into dreams he was there, a cosmic memory, telling her that she would be okay.

[thefuckingsun]

H̛͙͙̙̩ͅe̶̦ ͝c̲̬̬̖͉̼ͅa͓̺̪͔̫n̼'̶t͈̲͟ ͍̜̻ș̘̙͔̪̼͢a͚̻̱͟ͅv̖e̘ͅ y̦̯̻̥o̲͍͇͈ͅu̢̗̝̱͎̯ ̡̭̮͍t͙͓h͏̹į̜s ̤͎̞̟͉t͇̺͔i̵m̩̹e̴.̠͇̥͉̠ ̸̹͚̭̜͕̪I̟͖̬͕̫͓t̼'̛͉͕̳͈̣͖s͓͡ ̦̱͎̠͟n͍o̻t̯̻ ̷̱e̵̦̤͉̗ṇ̝̹̯o̹͖̞ụ̵̖̝̗̖̻̪g̩h͖͓̠̰͍̟̪.̶͓͖͇̺

It was the rushing rain that had roused her from the strange caverns she had been finding herself within while dreaming. For weeks it had been the same scene - a round room with a similarly shaped altar, the sound of distant rumbling, and no escape except for waking. Athen was grateful for the thunder and the lightning flashing through her windows. Nature was granting her an early reprieve from the doldrums of her conjured prison. Here, in her reality, though many often questioned the validity of it, she was relatively safe (safe is a lie), and far from alone.

He was two men. But not men. Not what mortals or the longer lived races called men, though that was how he appeared. Athen had come to think of him as a beast. He really didn’t have much in common with men at all, and while she was the sort who would rather hunt creatures down and slaughter them for sport, she was fond of her man-beast. Especially since they had begun hunting creatures down together. She loved the personalities that came together to create him, both equally, but differently. One had been a friend, a being with abilities she admired, and the arrogance she liked to imagine an older brother would display. The other had been her everything. And she missed him. She missed them both.

H̛͙͙̙̩ͅe̶̦ ͝c̲̬̬̖͉̼ͅa͓̺̪͔̫n̼'̶t͈̲͟ ͍̜̻ș̘̙͔̪̼͢a͚̻̱͟ͅv̖e̘ͅ y̦̯̻̥o̲͍͇͈ͅu̢̗̝̱͎̯ ̡̭̮͍t͙͓h͏̹į̜s ̤͎̞̟͉t͇̺͔i̵m̩̹e̴.̠͇̥͉̠ ̸̹͚̭̜͕̪I̟͖̬͕̫͓t̼'̛͉͕̳͈̣͖s͓͡ ̦̱͎̠͟n͍o̻t̯̻ ̷̱e̵̦̤͉̗ṇ̝̹̯o̹͖̞ụ̵̖̝̗̖̻̪g̩h͖͓̠̰͍̟̪.̶͓͖͇̺

Athen had been watching his tight muscles twitching in his sleep. He always looked like he was ready to lash out, like a wild tiger stalking restlessly in a cage, just waiting, waiting, for the moment he could spring free and leave his captors as carnage. But her thoughts were interrupted by the voice. Oh, it was never a good sign when strange whispers found her in the middle of the night. Crackling, impure arcane trailed behind her gaze as she quickly scanned the room. She wasn’t expecting to see anything out of place, but couldn’t help looking anyway. When her sight once more fell upon her beastly lover she fought to suppress a groan. If she wanted to indulge the whispers she would have to find someplace else to do so. It would be tragic to leave such a scrumptious sight, but she didn’t want to wake him.

Bare feet tread lightly through the threshold and into the garden. The weeping sky had plunged the world into a gloom more chilling than she had expected. “Fine,” she muttered, not to herself, but quietly. She knew the speaker who had interrupted her thoughts would hear. “You’ve got my attention… Now, what is this? A warnin’, or are you threatenin’ me? ‘cause listen, I ain’t in no mood to play games - not with cowards who hide behind disembodied voices in th’ night.”