#callathum

[stahldrauf]

Izzial would be met with a suprisingly upright and aware Callathum as he stopped by to visit the recovering warlock. A single, piercing green regarded the arakkoa warily as Callathum spoke, his voice still faint but more than coherent. "It's been a long, long time... master." He didn't leave much time for the words to sink in before continuing. "What happened to Izzial?"

The Arakkoa looked exhausted—and that’s saying something, given how hard it was to get Izzial to admit to such things. The suddenness of the responsibility thrust onto him still shook him in his quieter moments; it all seemed so much. He barely had gotten comfortable wielding the energies.Well, the former half of him had, anyways.

Even with everything going on, Izzial stepped away twice every day, checking on Callathum back in Dalaran. Even now, he could hear the Worgen’s protests in the next room.  Maintaining a tight hold on the parcel he carried, he stepped silently into Callathum’s room, blinking once as he saw the human sitting upright.  If anything, the words caused a brief flash of relief across his features. “…I’m glad to hear I’m not crazy.” His steps slowed, taking a few steps more to place the wrapped parcel on the bedside table. 

“…I’m not sure. I haven’t had time to think about happened to me. …Or us, I guess might be the better word.” His tone grew quieter, unsure of himself. “After you were taken, I knew something happened, but I haven’t had time to think about it.  I worked on finding every advantage I could to make sure we got you back safely.” 

Knowing he had no proof, his shoulders merely rolled in silent protest. “I can tell you it was nothing purposeful; and I am still Izzial. ...mentally different, yes, but I do remember how you saved me.  I promise no harm will come to you.”

[stahldrauf]

He was about as fit as he was going to get after his stay in the Dreadscar. Callathum didn't look... quite as hearty and hale as he did before the Legion invaded, especially with one of his eyes still wrapped up in linen. Nevertheless his steps were firm and unwavering as he made his way towards the worgen's tent, his intentions clear. Whatever Stahldrauf faced, whether on the Broken Shore, on Argus, or whatever came after... he would not face it alone.

The camp was deep in Stormheim’s mountains, away fromanything resembling Legion activity.  AsCallathum stepped into the valley, the glossy, still reflection of a lake spreadingout before him. The campsite could be seen quite easily, with the Worgensitting on the edge of the lake, fishing pole in hand.  

As the Warlock approached, the Death Knight’s body tensed upvisibly.  Ears splaying, he finally spokeafter a half a minute. “You shouldn’t of come. What if I lose control again?”Despite his words, though, he couldn’t stop his own satisfaction; lookingbackwards, the Worgen gave a broad, happy smile.

“…Sorry. That ain’t important to you. An’…. Christ you ain’t lookin’ good.”  Concern took over quicker than his ownreticence, the Worgen beginning to stand. “C’mon, take a seat. Let me get you some fish or somethin’—I’m still notgreat at it, but yer lookin’ like you need some meat on yer bones.”

He’d begin to head to the shoreline, pausing for a moment tolook back. “…Thanks, Cal.  It means a lotthat you came, even after… that.”

[rumblingsofanoceanpaw]

💭 thingy. For...Cal I guess?

“...you know, he looks so bedraggled and skinny all the time. I should offer to make him a robe or two. I might not be able to do anything about the skinniness, but I can sure make him look imposing...”

...

“...is red his color, or purple?”

[stahldrauf]

Callathum finds out about Stahldrauf's new tail and is immediately suspicious of it! But after much studying, scrying, and (largely painless) testing comes to the conclusion that it is, in fact, a benign entity. He is also forced to reluctantly admit that it's cute.

Stahldrauf really never could say no to this. Atthe sight of the tail, Callathum had grown incrediblyconcerned. “Need I remind you about the ritual you stepped into?”  That was the only thing the warlock had said,though the pale, intense eyes did something very few people managed.

They made the Worgen relent.

And that’s how the Worgen ended up being poked,prodded and tugged, the Warlock taking copious notes. “Honestly, it’s nothin’.Promise.”

“Nothing’s changed?” Despite the Warlock’sconcerned, serious tone, the tail couldn’t help but wagwagwag, the Worgen still looking ahead.

“No.  Thebalance was a lil’ weird ta get used ta, but after that?” Looking back behindhim, the Worgen saw his friend’s scowl lighten.

“Well, whatever caused it, it didn’t make anythingworse.” This came with a disapproving scowl… that melted into a soft smirk ashe looked away. “And I guess it’s kind of cute.”

“Hey!” The Worgen gruffly rumbled, turning around.“I’m still just as intimidatin’!”  Withhis words, he’d mock scowl down at the warlock. His words were -almost- sincere… until one could see the blur of thetail wagging behind him.

“Uh-huh.” The Warlock acknowledged, even as thesmirk grew more visible.

[stahldrauf]

Prompt request! No angst, no drama, no ominous signs of future crises...just Stahldrauf getting to enjoy a peaceful day in the woods. Warlock is optional.

Stahldrauf’s mouth normally ran. And ran. And ran. This deep in thewoods, though? Callathum would likely be surprised at how… quiet hegot.  No frown marred the Worgen’sfeatures, though; he’d seem more at peace with himself in this instance thannormal.  And it was true that such a moodwas rare; being alone and quiet made all of the other… bestial instinctslouder and more present. Without the distraction of drink or company, they wereusually hard to ignore.

Usually.

Today, though, he felt quiet. At ease. Normal. The hunt earliertoday proved to be enough of an activity to take the edge off of Stahldrauf’sproclivity for violence; after making a serviceable meal for the two ofthem.  And now, later on in the day, theafternoon sun beat down on him.  His blackpelt had hints of brown strewn throughout, only visible in the full sunlight.Forgoing a shirt, Stahldrauf’s head leaned back, exposing his brown leathercollar amidst his fur. Nearby was a bottle of cider, meant more for taste thangetting buzzed.

Hours passed as the Worgen simply… relaxed. No conflict. No need totrack someone down. No paladins looking down on him for his nature.  For the moment, life was good.