#catherine-lindgren

[brassikarts]

Justus 1B, Lian 3c, Val 1C

Well... here’s Lian!  He actually went through a few iterations, all of which were SUPREMELY ridiculous, but I’m pretty happy with this!

Talking about @oracle-of-the-wastelands here.  Thanks, @catherine-lindgren.

[alexkestavin]

02. What is one of your character’s biggest insecurities? Are they able to hide it easily or can others easily exploit this weakness?

“You know. I don’t exactly feel comfortable answerin’ this. Because I tell you. You tell someone else. Then all of a sudden everyone and their mother knows.” Alex just scoffed a little bit.

Alex is scared of losing his family. Plain and simple. Especially his son Elias. Elias is the most important thing to Alex at this moment.

( @catherine-lindgren )

[brassikarts]

WE ALL FALL DOWN- No one is safe in the end of my muse’s story. Everyone important to the story has perished. This can include your muse or not. Justus!

**Y’all always want to see my boy suffer.  Rude.**

The orc patrolled the battleground, silhouetted against the sunset’s red glow and the smoke emanating from the wreckage all around.  Orgrimmar was built of stone, he idly thought - you’d think the Alliance would have learned after the elf tree was set ablaze and Stormwind had to be rebuilt, and yet.  The weedy, fragile things always came out of the woodwork and rebuilt using wood and paper, hay and things that Goblin bombs would easily set ablaze.

“Help out with the barrow,” one of his compatriots called.  

“No... orders are to make sure no one’s faking.  Lots of bodies here to go through.”

The other orc shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  Sooner we get our men burnt and buried, though, sooner we can get the hell out of here.  Redridge stinks of human.”

Agrok was always negative, the orc thought, resuming his ambling circuit.  The lake steamed nearby, and his roving eye caught the remains of what used to be cannons and other heavy artillery partially submerged.  None of the humans underfoot stirred; he wasn’t like many of his brothers, though, and was willing to turn a blind eye to the rare survivor that was missed.  There were none on his path - better for him and for them.  Dal had been a slave, long ago - better a sword to the neck than a yoke, he always said.

Raucous laughter greeted him near where the barrow was being constructed.  The fallen orcish warriors were being carried to the mound, and orcs were separating them from the defending human corpses - Agrok called, “Dal!  Look at this one here!  All that shine to polish up some filthy Keth.”Sure enough, Agrok was kicking at the crumpled body of a large, sandy-haired man in pierced full plate.  “What?” “Look more closely, old idiot,” the younger man growled, grabbing the body by the hair and forcing his face upwards.  Under the blackened bruises, then, Dal saw it - the jawline and tusks, softened by whatever humans his unfortunate sire had mixed with.  He was grey, like the hill orcs that had joined them in taking down the town.

How... sad.

“So do we honor him by giving him a warrior’s burial?” Agrok laughed at his own cruel joke.  “Or leave him to burn like the rest of the chattel?”

“Do what you want, fool whelp,” Dal said, bitterness edging his voice.  “The sun’s going down and it’s a long march yet to Stormwind.”

@catherine-lindgren

[brassikarts]

TRUE END- Bittersweet ending. Some things go right, other things go wrong. Some sacrifices have to be made, but most people are happy in the end. Brassy!!

“You sure about this, Manclamps?”“Yeah.  I mean, no.  But yeah, I ain’t changin’ my mind now.  I’m committed, yanno?”“You ain’t got much of a mind left to change, Clamper.”  The old tauren gave her a clap across her shoulders that made her bones shake.  How Bull had survived his long - Gold, how she had survived this long was a mystery beyond reckoning, but the duo sat together in silence on the gently-bobbling fishing boat and just listened to the sounds of nature: ocean waves, screeching seagulls, and the gentle plop of the tauren’s fishing rod in the water.

Ahead was Pandaria.  That’s where Brassy was really born, and now she was going home.  She’d brought it all - her old, salvaged Gob Squad rifle and the gun Remy had given her long ago.  Macaroons, and shiny things for the Hozen to play with, and her stompiest boots in case any of those giant bug people came to visit.  And rations -

Wait, she’d forgotten those.  Oh well.  She was a hunter, wasn’t she?  An old one, but she could still shoot through the suit of playing card from twenty paces away.

“I’m gonna kick some sha ass!” she announced out of nowhere.  Bull didn’t give a response, though - he’d fallen asleep in the lull of silence, and his bucket hat covered his greying face.

Mentions of:

@edmund-valks, @thornbolts

[brassikarts]

Present

A small bottle of clear liquid would show up to Catherine’s door sometime after the holidays.  When uncorked, it would turn out to be perfume: earthy-smelling loam, mixed with the smells of ozone, salt air, and the promise of the delicate blossoms come Spring.

@catherine-lindgren

[brassikarts]

What was the best moment of the year for you?

I had so many!  One that stood out, though, was my girl’s trip to Yosemite!  It was cold!  It was impromptu!  I saw TWO bears!

@catherine-lindgren

[brassikarts]

🌻

My apartment is almost fully decorated and I am SO STOKED.

@catherine-lindgren

[brassikarts]

Name one person you’d protect even if it meant sacrificing yourself.

“C’mon, hon.  That’s an unfair question... I took vows an’ all for exactly this sort a’thing...” Justus flushed at Catherine’s question.

@catherine-lindgren