smol valeera hugs for survivor sylv
hug sylvanas ( or die trying ) :: always accepting //
Valeera gently sat in petrified silence with her knees pressed against her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, eyes wide and fixed on the darkness that was the floor of the kitchen cupboard. She felt her heart against her ribs, the resonance of its beat akin to thunder in her ears. Her body was stiff, limbs quietly aching from how tightly she’d bound herself, eyes unable to do anything beyond stare downwards and blink only when she stung.
Something was out there.
She hadn’t seen it, no. She’d foolishly become separated from Sylvanas ( She’d blame it on the woman’s strides, that made the most sense. Sylvanas walked too fast and quietly, it WASN’T NATURAL ). She hadn’t thought herself in much danger at first, for she’d listened carefully and ensured where she wandered, the birds sung.
But then they’d gone silent. And the forest around her had somehow felt as if it were closing in. Her skin crawled, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as panic set in. She didn’t know which way to run, she didn’t know her way back. She had thought she’d just sort of wander until Sylvanas found her ( because as much as it begrudge the girl to admit it, Sylvanas WAS a skilled ranger ).
Only Sylvanas hadn’t come.
Instead, she’d caught a waft of something FOUL. The scent of decay, of rotting eggs, sulfur, and burnt flesh. She’d heard the rattle of chains, and the crash of something marching through the woodland. Her ears had wilted when she heard something snort, deep, noxious inhales smelling the air for the scent.
Her scent.
So she’d ran, she ran back to a creek she’s found and followed the bank, until she found an abandoned cottage and darted inside.
She felt so stupid, so small, so helpless. She still had her sword, useless as it was, uncomfortably pressed into her hip and side.
Heavy thuds stomped next to the cabin, and then came another deep inhale. It – whatever it was – growled. She flinched the front door flew open, flying off the hinge.
The floorboards groaned under the monster’s weight, Valeera pressed her eyes tightly shut. She shifted one arm so she could clasp a hand over her own mouth, keeping her breathing quiet.
In the distance, there was a howl. A bear, badger, or wolverine, she didn’t know. It was in pain.
The creature she’d yet to see ( and did not want to even GLIMPSE ) paused.
A guttural noise escaped it, something close to a word or statement Valeera could not understand.
The wounded animal bellowed again.
Chains dragged along the cottage floor, the heavy foot falls crack the floor, but soon enough there is the sound of the massive fiend stalking off into the wilderness.
Valeera doesn’t move, she doesn’t make a sound. She doesn’t know if she’s been there for seconds, minutes, or hours.
The cupboard door opens, and she gasps, eyes snapping open, seeing nothing beyond a figure in the dark. Her heart feels as if it will escape her chest. Her hand falls away as she inhales to scream—
A hand covers her mouth again, but not her own.
Wide, green hued eyes meet quiet grey, and a familiar scarred face framed by silver-blonde locks come into proper focus.
She can feel her lips tremble, terror still very much in control. She can see the concern on her savior’s face. Whatever is out there, it is something they cannot fight.
The hand over her mouth falls away, and she finds herself gently tugged out of her hiding spot.
In the fading light of late afternoon, she can see the woman who’s found her properly.
Tall, lithe, a ranger, or that’s what she used to be. Sylvanas Windrunner stands before her, her expression not firm, nor shrouded by disciplined neutrality. There is fear in the woman’s eyes, but now Valeera can see that the nature of Sylvanas’ terror is different.
It is not of the monster, whatever it might have been.
It is simply for Valeera herself, Sylvanas had thought she lost the girl. Lost her little thief, who was often so quick of tongue.
“Valeera—“
Valeera doesn’t hesitate, she hurries forward and closes the small space between them. She wraps her arms around Windrunner, clinging to her with a desperation only a lost child could achieve.
Sylvanas stares down at the top of Valeera’s hair, golden hair an utter mess that’s been bound back into a high tail.
“I’m sorry,” Valeera murmurs in Thalassian, burying her face between her shoulder and Sylvanas’ midriff. She tries to hide the hiccups in her voice, hide that her eyes sting. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep up, and—“
Sylvanas’ arms hold the girl in a protective hug, firm but reassuring.
“It’s alright,” Sylvanas murmurs, “are you alright? Are you injured?”
There’s a quiet sniffle, and Valeera faintly nods.
“My ankle,” she frowns, pulling away a bit to look down at her foot.
It was throbbing, she’d run too hard and fast on it.
In one smooth motion Sylvanas had hoisted the girl up. Valeera immediately wrapped her legs around her and hugged her once more, arms hooking around Sylvanas’ neck. Her eyes stung from her tears, tears that she stubbornly refused to permit the ranger from getting a good look at.
Sylvanas moves in silence, carrying her away from the cabin, away from the terrifying prints in the dirt and mud of the riverbank.
“Sylvanas,” Valeera mutters.
“Hm?”
“What was it?”
Sylvanas says nothing for a moment, though Valeera swears she senses the woman’s pace increase at the mere thought of the monster.
“There are precious few things that are worse than the Scourge,” Sylvanas finally answers, “and at times, it’s best to leave them unnamed.”
Valeera glances at Sylvanas, “was it a demon?”
Windrunner spares her a wary glance.
Yes. Sylvanas doesn’t say, her gaze returning to the path ahead of them. It was wanton hunger, a thing that delights in agony and fear, a creature of gruesome depravity…
She forces away a cold, and deep terror attempting to rise within her.
A BUTCHER.
