FEEL. -How does your character react to a persons touch? A random stranger’s? A loved one’s? A friend’s?@aenlandrin - He’s not overly fond of being touched by strangers, and it would thoroughly depend on the person in question. Just some passerby who though to lay a hand on him? Probably walking away with burnt fingers. Someone he’s been having a conversation with for a few moments and, say, they touch his sleeve or something, probably would just politely distance himself. Friend’s really the same way. He doesn’t overly mind, but it’s not something he particularly enjoys. As for a loved one...he REVELS in that touch if we’re talking about a romantic interest like @lavinyia he sort of thrives on that. It’s another form of a connection and even just a brush of a hand is a rather intimate gesture for them, especially in public.
@arandrian - GIVE HIM ALL THE TOUCHING HE CARES NOT. Honestly though he literally has 0 issues with people touching him, and will in fact go out of his way to make that contact happen. If a person seems unsure he’ll set a hand to their shoulder and offer an encouraging word. If someone’s making a pass at him well...nothing wrong with getting just a little closer and pressing a hand against a hip. And friend’s? Hugs, hands, scoop them up and cart them off to drop in the fountain. He has no issues letting his personal space get invaded and no aversion to physical contact, ever. It was one of the things I realized over time as I wrote him because random strangers would just..touch him, an arm a cheek, his hand. And every time I go to react, I don’t get that drive to pull back and keep him distant. He revels in it.
@denlandis Random strangers? Probably going to find him being uncomfortable about it. He has issues with trust, but his polite nature keeps him from outright stonewalling a person just because of contact. A friend? @catraenablazewing is a stubborn fan of randomly hugging him, so he’s gradually become fine with that. He’ll grasp hands and hug others, but he needs that emotional connection with a person and that level of trust to be okay with it. Loved ones? Given that the only real loved one he has is @adilynia, the two of them maintain a level of decorum in public but it’s not unheard of to see them with a hand resting on the others arm, or standing close by with a hand at the other’s back. There’s little moments where you can see the connection, but they keep their public and personal lives on designated sides of the spectrum.
The Captain was making his rounds of the camp, stopping to visit groups of soldiers and knights alike. Banners were cast in varying shades, blues and reds mingled with umbers and browns. Not a single pair of eyes were without the strain of combat, yet spirits were lifted with the recent news that the Tomb had been breached and progress already made. It was in that span of time when he moved from one fire to the next that the voice called out, and a shocked expression passed over rigid features. A hand swept up to push alabaster strands away, and free his vision to eye the figure.“Marry?”While the word didn’t necessarily sit wrong on his tongue, he nevertheless faltered for a moment when pondering that notion. A light furrow drew across his brow, and for one brief moment the stern complexion he was famous for cracked. Lips parted to speak and held, the breath caught while his thoughts began to churn endlessly. “There is a war on...”His breath spilled out in a sigh, but while his expression softened and he cast a look down the row toward one distant fire he didn’t move to leave. Rather, a hand curled easily around the pommel of his blade, plates shifting at his weight adjusted and he settled for a moment.“One day...when this is over..and I have asked for her hand...but it would be foolish to think of such things while battles rage and lives are spent from one minute to the next. My duty, and my mind are set upon victory here first...then I can afford to ponder what comes after. That she is with me now, by my side on and off the field is enough for me...but one day...”
10♥️ - What was the last party or social event your muse went to?J♥️ - Who does your muse consider their best friend?
The last party/social event was a dinner with the other members of the Vigil at the Legerdemain in Dalaran. It was a chance to catch up with @knightleonelle, @catraenablazewing, and their newest prospect member, Azavera (who doesn’t have a tumblr...am working on swaying her to the dark side) it’s the first time they’ve all been together in one place since the original invasions started last August, so almost a year spent apart as a group. It was a really good evening to catch up with friends.As far as a best friend, it would be a toss between @adilynia and @knightleonelle. Addie and Den have cultivated a lasting, powerful romance that makes them an unshakeable battle couple OTP. They’re one anothers pillar and confidant when the war and the world ways down, and have seen each other through trying times since they met a little over a year ago. Leonelle is the teacher/mentor that helped Den to rebuild himself after waking from the aftermath of the Scourge invasion. Shakey himself, Den was no where near the stalwart force he is now, and wouldn’t be had it not been for the guiding hand of the Knight Master that trained him.@waitingrose has a very good talent for writing scenes and moments that can often leave me speechless, and a number of times when Leo had to counsel Den on difficult subjects, the young Dwin’arniths views were turned on their heads and cleared to see things from a new perspective. Much like Addie has. They both are the two people he trusts above all else, second only to @magistererillan for being the one person left of their family that hasn’t forsaken him, and instead has been the one to encourage him in his path toward Knighthood.
The question drew a fond look from the man as he paused amid his work. For a rare moment the battle had been forgotten, and instead he found himself working the forge as though he’d never left. The bellows eased and he took only so much time as he could manage, though in truth he was back to working even as he talked.“Five years? Well...working in a different forge of..our own making. Hopefully reminiscing on the distant war we currently find ourselves in and enjoying SOME measure of peace. It may be premature, though not truly, to say I would be...happy to be worrying about taking cares not to damage a band on my finger while I worked, and...perhaps worrying after a little something...who knows....”The smile kept to his features, soot stained and slightly sweaty as they were as the forge was pumped once more. Fire churned and heated the coals as the blade cast in golden metal was thrust into the burning embers.
"What If..." his family refused his desires to join the Knights?
The sounds of shouting filling the corridors was nothing new within the manor. Time and again the eldest and youngest siblings had traded barbs for over a century, but there had always been a civil undertone. Now that semblance of decorum was abandoned as footsteps thundered down the hall.“You will retain your place here, and that is that. I will not entertain any notion of you joining that failed Order. Their prattling and misguided attempt to play hero will cost us everything, and I will not suffer the shame of an ignoble death from a member of this family because of his petulant behavior.”It was to be expected.
“You cannot refuse me this, brother. I have been in that bed for six years, I will NOT linger here any longer. I know I can do this, with or without your blessing.”Denlandis barreled down the hallway towards the towering front doors of their manner. His robes had been traded for soft leather, ill fitting on his weakened form. Each step was shaky, from the time spent recovering from his malady or from the nerves firing through him, but he pressed on. Behind him a tide of rage and fire followed after, sconces and torches breathed unstable life as they flared and burned the walls beside him. He’d nearly made it to the foyer when the guards at the entrance stepped in to block his path.“I told you, you WILL NOT join those plated buffoons. Your folly has cost us enough of our blood to be shed, if you think I will let you just walk away from your duties, you are mistaken.”He had the opportunity to turn, to try and explain himself, but his steps never halted. Not until two hands clasped either shoulder, and the silent stares of the guardsman met his sight. Their fingers gripped firmly, digging into his shoulder until the pain set in. With his knees wobbling from the strain he fell to them with a grunt, clawing at their wrists as he tried to feebly tug them free.“Wha-What are you doing? YOU CANNOT KEEP ME H-”Something struck the back of his head, and sent his thoughts into oblivion. He lurched forward, kept upright only by the hands that held him. Pain surged in the next heartbeat, and whatever words he might have spoken were a jumbled mess. He fought the stars that flooded his vision even as strong hands lifted him up from the floor.“I can, and I will. You will rot in your chambers for the rest of your days if that is required. You think you can walk away after all that you have done to this family, all we have sacrificed just for...your pitiful existence. Take him to his chambers, lock the door and post sentries at every exit.”“No...you...I need...she told me...”A hissed breath drew his words to naught, and a vice grip found his chin. Wrenched up from their hold on the floor they found twin circles of burning amber, the color their father had possessed. He could only wonder as to the drastic shift in his sight, but all thought vanished in an instant.“-She- is dead. Your fate belongs to me now, and when the time comes perhaps we will be lucky enough to marry you off to some lowborn house of some prestige. They often cater to the scraps of those above them. Go.”
That sounds dirtier than it’s meant to...I think. Anywho, enjoy some galleries for a few of the boys. Going to be doing more tomorrow before work.
https://aenlandrin.tumblr.com/post/159658383013
http://denlandis.tumblr.com/post/159658110146
http://tennesonrhames.tumblr.com/post/159658771612
Mermaid: How far would you go to keep the one you love?
Dice Result: The Knight, Denlandis
The question caught the man off guard, right in the middle of hoisting a saddle atop a freshly groomed steed. With a sudden lurch of his form, the aged leather settled atop the beast even if the angle became a bit awkward. A wary sound issued as a few steps drew the horse a few inches away, but a soft pat to the side of its neck and a few reassuring words calmed the riled thoughts.“Keep?”
However the question had been intended, a draw of breath was heard, sniffing the air as though something foul had been caught. A wrinkled brow and a twist of his head back around while he busied himself kept his thoughts focused. Hands drifted over the saddle, pulling laces, and knotting the ties before he went about smoothing the horse’s mane.“There has never been a notion of keeping one, family or otherwise. If I am to take your meaning, though I suppose a myriad of interpretations could be assumed. Keeping them happy, keeping them safe, keeping them in good health. All of these are things one does for a loved one, but as to the actual keeping of a -person-? I would go no further distance than they wished. Do not mistake that for refusal to fight for them, but if the one I loved truly…”He paused in the middle of a thought as his fingers slipped beneath the pad under the saddle, smoothing a wrinkle he’d missed. Another run of his fingers brushed along the steed’s neck before he tightened the tie strap, and continued.“Wished to leave my side, that would be her choice. Painful as it might be, I will not force anyone to rest at my shoulder if they wish it not. Then they would cease to be a loved one, and more so an attachment for your benefit. That is not what love is, not what it will ever be.”
I'd watched them both leave up the same flight of steps. One a new friend, perhaps, cast in soft tones and silvery skin. The other I'd known for barely past a year now, the rounded curves of her face tinged by the harsh reality of war. Each had been thrust into the heart of battle, tested by measures both seen and unseen. A few quiet hours had been spent beside a bubbling fountain as spirits danced through the air, words shared over spiced bread and broiled meat. It was no small wonder we clung to moments like that.
With the midnight bell tolling in the distance my feet carried me through the camp. People strode past me with purpose in their eyes. Some would serve the vanguard of the mornings charge, their eyes fresh and filled with the fire of ignorance. Others had just returned from their evening patrol and could barely thwart the shadows that filled their gaze. There was always a measure of pity for both, the fresh faced and the hardset. I wondered what others saw when they looked at my face, heard my voice and watched me fight. Which was I now?
Banishing those thoughts I attached myself to one of the outgoing patrols, the shroud of the fel tinged clouds overhead blocking the sky beyond. Bits of stars peeked through the occasional break, but otherwise it was a blanket of death and demon's fire. Perhaps in the future they'd write about this like the epic battles of yore. Battles where heroes and villains fought in titanic battles that scorched the earth and rended flesh. Blood and honor were so easily traded when the stories of the past were recounted on a sheet of paper. How many of them had I read, and now I knew they were just a fantastical lie?
"Captain!"
The harsh tone of my rank shouted through the air pulled me from my thoughts. I felt my mind sluggishly turn to matters at hand, my fingers gripping the spear tighter while armored feet struck the ground. One step after another brought me to the head of the formation, and I saw at once why he'd called me. A group of soldiers were fending off a flurry of the Eredar's minions, casters and blades alike. Bodies were strewn across the blood soaked ground, some lifeless and others twitching in their final throes. I saw one of the recruits look our way, and for a brief moment hope filled his eyes. He didn't even see the blade cleave through his neck from behind. Steel filled my lungs as I gave the order.
"FORM UP! CHARGE!"
A rallying cry cut through the churning smog of the ongoing battle as we tore up the ground in our wake. Thundering across the small plain to join the battle felt like it took eternity, but in the space of a minute we were matching blades with claws. Vicious and cruel eyes peered at me through the visor, spitting a curse in their dark language. Deflecting its wild swing was easy, but the fist that struck my ribs landed before I caught the motion. The plate buckled just enough under the strain that there was pressure in the side of my chest. With a shove I forced distance between us and sank the edge of my spear through its chest. Like thick hide it resisted at first, but the moment it was pierced the satisfying sound of flesh tearing filled my ears.
What ground the demons had won was quickly turned against them, and the battle was pitched in our favor. With numbers and fresh soldiers we began to press them back away from the camp. Every inch we wrenched from their hold was won with another splatter of blood, another pained cry as a blade struck home. One of the knights beside me shielded a blow meant for my head, and I barely had time to thank him before his face was embroiled by sickening felfire. His screams were agonizing. How he quickly passed out from the torrent of pain was comforting, and I hated myself for thinking it. Bits of burning embers bathed my neck. They stung like hell but I couldn't deal with them now as we rallied. Shouting of victory and cheers rang out, some from us, and some from up on the ridge where the camps watchers had seen the entire thing play out.
"Round up the dead, get the wounded to the healers, and ma-"
One of the younger soldiers ran up to me with a fresh cut streaming blood down his neck. Sweat drenched his face, but his eyes were wild and heavy with purpose.
"Sir! We caught one of them!"
While the others tended to the wounded and fallen, I followed the boy to where they had her. I say her yet her face was so distorted and warped by the fel it was difficult to imagine she'd ever been anything but another twisted demon. That's all she was now, all any of them were. Another demon bent low by the power of that corruption with a single goal. To wipe us out and bathe the world in ash and death. I expected a vicious snarl, but all I got was a barking laugh that sounded wrong. The notes of her voice were fractured and offkey.
"You think you won this little battle, Paladin?"
Another fit of laughter shook her body, and it was obvious she'd been wounded. Bits of glowing blood seeped through cuts along her body, the trail like a burning oil trailing in thick rivers down her chest. The smell was revolting, like sulfur and burnt flesh filling my nose with every breath. Somehow I managed to fight the urge to revisit dinner from barely an hour past. A steady breath gave me enough poise to speak clearly, though my throat was dry and the sound harsh.
"Your forces lay dead, and soon you will be at the hands of the Illidari, monster...your fate is up to them."
Did I mean to sound so bored with it all. Like it was just another day, another fight among the hundreds we'd already been through. I caught a look from one of the Initiates, and something in it broke that resolve. Another breath, another toss in my stomach as I watched the twisted features of the demon turn. There was almost a hint of fear in her eyes if something like that was even possible. That was when her cracked lips peeled back to reveal sharpened teeth, like they'd been filed to a razor's edge.
"YOU ARE ALL WEAK, FOOLISH CHILDREN BEFORE THE LEGION'S MIGHT. OUR MASTER WILLS YOUR DESTRUCTION AND HE WILL HAVE IT!"
Her voice lacked the force I expected, and I realized she was really afraid. Were the Illidari so feared among their ranks. It was difficult not to wonder how terrible your allies were when they forced your enemy to quake. Those kinds of thoughts didn't serve a purpose, so I flung them with a shake of my head.
"Spout your gibberish all you wish, demon. We have heard it all bef-"
I barely managed to turn my head away as she spit, intent to catch me in the eye but missing. My lips curled in disgust as I felt a mixture of blood and spit stick to my cheek, a hand wiping it away.
"We will bathe in your blood, endless rivers of your damna-"
I'd had enough, but even I was surprised when the back of my gauntlet struck her cheek. There was a dull crunching sound under its weight, and it gave me paused. My fingers curled into a fist, and despite her appearance I had to fight the urge to admonish myself.
"Enough...take her to the hun-"
Again that damned laughter hit the air, and my words halted. She turned her eyes back to me so slowly it was like time had come to a crawl, and I could swear she was peering through me, through the armor to something inside me.
"We will bathe in HER blood...little Knight. Your precious pix-"
There wasn't even a shred of hesitation when my fist closed around her throat. My fingers dug into the ashen flesh of the demonic creature spitting its lies and vile threats. I felt the muscles crinkle beneath the weight of my hold, heard the way the air seized in her neck. The knights holding her arms struggled to maintain a grip as she thrashed. It took only a split second more to rest the edge of the spear against her chin. Just beneath the curve where her neck started, and it would've been nothing to sever the artery and spine beneath that thin surface.
"Do....it...."
Her ragged breath choked the words, bidding her end even faster. I pressed the spear forward until the very edge of it pierced the flesh. Another river of sickly toned green began to trail down the center of her neck, over my thumb. Cracked and splintered, her lips peeled back in a victorious grin as she waited for that last push. For a few seconds none of us made a sound, and all I could hear was the thundering of my own heart as I stared into the eyes of madness. Then I felt the muscles in her neck relax, her blood left to drip freely as the spear was pulled back. Every instinct in my body shouted at me to finish it, and be done with her vile sneer but I relented.
"Take her."
Dust and ash were kicked up as she struggled against their hold as the knights dragged her away. They left me alone to my thoughts as the others began to clear the sight of the skirmish. Some of the wounded wouldn't make it through the night, and others would find themselves sent home unable to carry on the fight. I watched as they were all carried from the field, and knelt down beside the body of the man who'd saved me a moment prior. He was a human boy, really, barely looked old enough to wear the armor he served in. Now all that was left was a half charred face and a lifeless stare peering up at a dead sky. How far had he come from home, I wondered. Had he read the same stories, yearned for the same glory? Did he expect the titanic crashes of sword and armor, or had he come to realize the truth of war like I had? When they carried him from that place I watched until it was like nothing had ever happened.
Blood stained the ground, and bits of flesh and cracked earth were littered about, but no bodies remained. The crows would find no succor that night. I was finally left with nothing but my thoughts, and the weight of the spear in my hand. My fingers clenched around the tightly bound leather, its crimson tones soaked in demons blood. Our patrol carried on into the waning hours of night, and just before dawn I shuffled back into the comfort of our tent. The covers were turned aside, and I could almost catch the scent of lemon in the air from her morning bath. Her armor was gone, but a messily scratched note and a still steaming cup of coffee was left on the table, for me. I didn't go for it immediately, and took the time to remove the bits of armor from my chest and shoulders. They burned from the night's work, and I had to be free of them. When I finally settled into the chair it was like every muscle in my back had been scorched by the felfire dancing in the sky. It would have been easy to find solace, and a smile as I read her messy handwriting.
"Another patrol without me, Sir Dwin'arnith? For shame. I rescheduled your first meeting, but don't sleep in too long this time!"
I only made it halfway through when my eyes blurred. My face twisted, and I felt the trail of salt against my cheeks. Calloused hands covered a dirt stained face covered in blood and sweat as an all too familiar choking noise touched my ears. All I could do was weep into the surface of my palms, the sound muffled and tired. I don’t know how long I was like that, but the cup no longer steamed and the day was growing brighter. The sounds of the camp outside picked up with the growing light of the sun like it always did, and I could hardly peer out into the garish dawn. When my back finally touched the bed I didn't even bother removing the plates on my legs and feet. I stared up at the ceiling of the tent for almost half an hour before I finally lost the fight, and fell asleep. It would only be another three hours before it all began again.
