Daily Writing Challenge
February 2025
Day 7 - Rage
TW: Scourge, death, child death
What remained of his military unit, along with the remnants of a few others, had begun their push north through the burning ruins of Silvermoon City. Those evacuating had been told to go north to board boats in order to be taken to safety, but the latest reports had delivered news of clouds of smoke rising from the area. This is where they had been sending their elderly, their infirm, many of their civilians…their children. Since the scourge seemed to be coming up from the Ghostlands to the south, it was the safest route to escape if not by portal.
Veilos was exhausted, as was every other Quel’dorei still alive in Quel’thalas. While the bulk of the threat seemed to have gone, their deceased brethren had become the new threat when they started reanimating as mindless zombies. With every fallen reanimated elf, Veil had to remind himself that these were no longer his own people. Just mindless ghouls that would only be a threat to those that remained, and needed to be put down before any more damage could be done.
At this point in time, no one knew the sheer amount of destruction and death that had been brought to their home. Eversong Woods and Silvermoon City were massive, and he had only been fighting and healing in small portions of the areas. But as they continued their trek northward and saw the crumbled buildings and numerous bodies littering the streets, the true immensity of this attack was beginning to sink in.
The knot sitting in the pit of his stomach had been growing ever since he heard there was smoke seen at the evacuation point, and by the time they neared the coastline, those that could were running at a full sprint. Once they reached the clearing, they all skidded to an abrupt halt. A few men and women around him screamed and fell to their knees, overcome with racking sobs while others immediately began to heave. Veilos had already vomited up the contents of his stomach long ago, and at the moment all he could do was stare in horror.
Dozens of boats had been set aflame, some already half sunk in the waters, others crashed into each other and then against the nearby shores and the scent of burning flesh filled the air. Thousands upon thousands of dark-colored masses floated in the surrounding sea and littered the shore as far as the eye could see. Some of those masses wandered aimlessly, others in the water thrashed wildly about. These were all elves. No, these were zombies or other forms of mindless ghouls.
Even their Commander seemed in complete shock as he wiped at his face, mumbling something incoherent as he attempted to find words. “W-we have to…we have to search for survivors. Kill the undead.” The words almost caught in his throat as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Soldiers, on your feet. ...Survivors, find the survivors.” The word sounded forced, not even he believed there were any survivors to be found here.
Veilos was one of the first to dash in, eyes darting around the dead and undead, searching for something, anything. He opened his mind to the entire area, trying to find some semblance of intelligent life aside from those he showed up with. He tried not to look at the faces for too long of those he had to cut down along the way; a neighbor, a clerk at a local market, so many children. These scenes would haunt him for life, there was no coming back from this as the same man he used to be. They would all be changed from this.
That’s when he spotted the familiar bright blue dress. Much of it was stained with mud and blood, but there was enough showing to recognize it as the garment his wife had been wearing after he sent her and their children to this very evacuation point hours ago.
Bleary eyes fixated on her gaunt, dirtied face as he dropped his sword, “Kyrisa…”
Its attention seemed to catch on him now. Its lifeless, hollow gaze shifted to him and it made some sort of awful gurgling noise, hobbling towards him on a very broken leg.
“Kyrisa, it’s Veilos. You recognize me, right?” He stepped forward, reaching his hands out to try to cup her cheeks. “You’re still in there my sunshine, I know you are. Please, Light.”
It immediately made a clawed swipe towards him, gnashing its teeth out and chomping at him as Veilos pushed it away. It stumbled backwards and fell over another dead body, landing with a snap of bone.
“Kyrisa, please.” Veil’s teeth gritted together, lower lip trembling as the tears began to spill down his cheek, cutting a sharp line through the caked grime. “Please ju..just say something. Anything. Let me know…let me know that it’s you.”
It made another gurgling noise, this time accompanied by a threatening growl as it crawled towards him, reaching out to his ankles and baring its teeth in an attempt to find purchase against flesh. This was no longer his wife, just some monstrosity using her body.
He pulled a dagger free from his belt and leaned down, cupping her head in one hand to keep her from reaching him. He stroked his thumb against her matted hair, “Please forgive me.” He raised his dagger, shaking his head as he mumbled a series of prayers to whatever deity may be listening. But at this point he knew damn well none of them were here to answer any prayers.
With a blood-curdling, rage-filled scream, he drove the dagger down through the top of her skull, immediately collapsing onto his knees and draping himself over her now completely lifeless form. His agonizing wails and sobs were loud enough to gain attention from any other nearby zombies, but at this point he wished for death. What even was life without them?
Fingers gripped Kyrisa’s dress as he pulled her onto his lap, delicately cradling her cold face against his chest while he sat there and not only lost any remaining hope, but lost his faith as well.
“—even Anax’s pond. Saltwater,” Eluvianna remarked idly, crouching near the water's edge, fingers skimming its surface into ripples of moonlight.
Zevvie blinked, “I…wouldn't know.”
Eluvianna turned, a glint in her eye. “Wait, Zev—” She cut herself off, standing abruptly, excitement overflowing. “We should swim. Right now. It's absolutely perfect!”
Before Zevvie could protest, Eluvianna was already unlacing the ties of her robes, utterly unbothered. The night's spectre casting her in pale silver as she pulled free another layer.
Zevvie swallowed hard, heat rising along her neck. She turned away sharply, fingers flaring at her sides. “—I can’t.”
Eluvianna huffed in disbelief. “What do you mean you can’t?”
Zevvie hesitated before blurting, “I don't know how to swim.”
Silence stretched between them.
“You never learned how to swim?” Eluvianna asked, her voice softer now, more curious than teasing.
Zevvie shook her head. “No.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
Eluvianna stepped closer, the sound of her bare feet against the grass nearly sending Zevvie skittering like some startled creature. Then, a warm hand found her shoulder.
“Well,” Eluvianna now had a smile in her voice, “luckily, I am an excellent teacher.”
It was, Tinnaire thought, interesting how a scent could be nearly hypnotic. The Bazaar was positively soaked in the scent of roses tonight. Her soft eyes roved over the milling crowd; she watched as two people with red roses on their persons tentatively approached each other, their smiles growing more confident as their eyes met. The red signified ‘single and looking’ she had learned. Others wore white roses, signifying they were romantically ‘taken’. She even saw a few who wore both colors.
When she’d taken her walk, she hadn’t realized there was an event going on in the square, but curiosity and a friendly face had kept her there for a while. Now, she stood by the fountain in a floral haze. She recalled the rose gardens of her youth--her family’s, her friends’, and the ones dotted through the city.
Tinnaire had never been particularly botanically minded; not like Fiorenze, Taric, or Laeynna seemed to be. But roses recalled the flush of youth, of hope and eagerness, and, yes, the first hint of love. Bouquets and boutonnieres had followed her and her young love, the same for so many couples.
She found herself blinking back memories filled with the soft flowers. Of a love letter with rose scented paper. Powders, oils, candies, and teas. A different person might have made bitter the bite of the thorns, but Tinnaire smiled to herself, walking home alone and thoughtful.
February Daily Writing Challenge 2025
Day 1 - Hypnotic
The hypnotic tic-tic-tic of the metronome wasn’t a necessity at this stage of Stellan’s musical studies. Perfect tempo and perfect pitch were something he had mastered during his time as a musician in the Silvermoon orchestra many, many decades ago. It was a habit at this point, and more than anything it was a comfort. There was something about the rhythmic ticking that soothed his mind and brought about a sense of nostalgia.
He had missed those times, when his days were full of practice and many nights full of playing the role of The Chameleon. He was at his busiest with less time to think about the world at large and what was next on the horizon. Not less stressful, just stressful in a different way.
Now, there wasn’t a need to work. He had enough funds from his previous lives that he could comfortably retire and spend the remainder of his years traveling or even just sitting at home playing his grand piano. But once you get a taste, it’s hard to return to a civilian lifestyle.
He struggled with those in between times, when the mercenary crew was on leave for some undetermined amount of time. It was a good thing, that meant there was relative peace in the world - but he wanted the war, and he wanted the strife, and he wasn’t alone in those wants. It was an unspoken desire shared among many of those who had spent their lives in the service of the military or as a mercenary. He didn’t wish for people to get hurt or to lose their lives, but he craved the action and being able to put some of his best skills to good use.
With a discontent sigh, fingers glided over the piano keys with a heavily practiced ease, attempting to push away encroaching thoughts with a few of his favorite pieces. It didn’t work, it never did these days. The restlessness was an all too familiar feeling, and anytime it had reached these levels he knew it was time to change faces and to change names.
Is that what he truly wanted?
He was rather fond of Inistellan Volanthus, and thought that perhaps this is actually who he was always meant to be in the end. But still, the feeling remained.
(Warning: Mention of “Death Knight Things”, mention of suicide)
Day 2- Power/Cage
Sometimes I think back to when I had first awakened after dying from that explosion in Tanaris. Was it an accident? Who had killed me? Thoughts were racing through my mind until I had felt something freeze my mind like an icy cold hand gripping my mind and giving me commands. Commands that I didn’t want to do, but I had to. Otherwise I was going to be killed and fed to the ghouls. Arthas’ voice had rang through my head, stunning me in my tracks once or twice. But I had to obey, I had to comply. The power that the Death Knights of Acherus wielded was like nothing I had ever witnessed. Freezing strikes of frost, boiling blood out of enemies, and afflicting Scarlets with diseases. The screams were music to my ears. The orders were like a cage I could never get out of.
It wasn’t until the battle for Light’s Hope that I realized the Death Knights were just pawns in a much larger scheme for the Lich King. Some were free from his will at Light’s Hope. Others were free at Icecrown when Arthas died. Some death knights saw no purpose to continue fighting and killed themselves. Bolvar had been encased in ice once the helm was placed upon his head.
But me? I continue fighting enemies. I interrogate those that need interrogating even if they’re through “torturous methods”. I help people for the good of the Horde and the Ebon Blade, even though I am still considered an outcast. But there are ways to cope with the Endless Hunger that I feel. Friendship, companions, and entertainment seem like a good choice. I just worry about becoming a murderous maniac in front of them if I do… slip. Would anyone stop me? Would anyone talk some sense into me? I worry that I will suffer alone because of this power, this affliction and addiction.
DWC February 2025
Day 1: Hypnotic/Star
OC: Lilliana Whitedawn, Sin'dorei "Felblood"
@daily-writing-challenge
Is this what it means to be swept off of one's feet?
The thought came unbidden - like a bird erupting from the brush - the optimism a bitter, and timid thing after so long.
After so much loss.
She'd spent a decade with her head in the sand - trying to cope with what she was. And what was a decade, to an Elf? Or... something like her, that may never die?
But re-entering society proper was proving as confusing as it had been when she'd retired from the Knights, and had unwittingly taken a job for a notorious criminal.
But for just a little while, it hadn't been so confusing.
To think that it could still happen - that a veritable stranger could spin her around, and show her the world anew, again...
Eversong at night. It had been so long that she'd almost forgotten the last time she'd walked the woods at night - and in over a century, she'd never once taken a starlit boat ride... much less one in the waters of the homeland she cherished.
With the moon hanging heavy, and a thousand-thousand stars dripping from the sky, into the rippling blanket of sea below - well, who knew a lily could bloom in moonlight?
In the quiet of the Grim and Tonic apothecary, she carefully peered around the various potions, elixirs, tinctures, and other concoctions that Saith so masterfully made. He labelled everything, of course, which didn’t surprise her in the least. How many of these things had been made for others, and how many had he made for personal projects? Rows and rows of bottles and vials sat before her, each in its own perfect little setting. One wrong idle move from her or Toasty having a sudden case of the zoomies, and she could just envision the domino effect of shattered glass and hissing liquids on wooden floor.
A smile hooked its way into half of her mouth as sher head tipped, hair not quite violet curling over her collar. And she’d worried about taking too much of his time away from his work. Or that he would grow bored and listless with her companionship. It was good to see that he kept himself busy. Saith’s background as an informant had controlled so much of him. Belidrae still worried that suddenly trying to acclimate to a life where he no longer had to do that would too much for him. She’d tried to be supportive of him and ultimately, the story was always the same. She only wanted him to be happy. To feel like he was significant. To know that he mattered and that he was important. For things other than his body or dust or thistle.
Are you happy, Saith, with the way things are? This relationship with me. Is it what you really want? Our engagement? I’d be all right if you changed your mind.
Would she, though? Belidrae didn’t think so in entirety. But if things went topsy turvy, which was entirely possible, she knew she’d find a way through it. She always had. In the end, all that really mattered to her was that he found what he was looking for. What he felt like he needed. She knew very well it just wasn’t healthy if he was using her as a form of escapism. She hoped it wasn’t that. If it was, the conversation would be a difficult one to have.
She could hear the soft, raspy ‘miaow’ that came from the siamese kitten who nonchalantly wandered in. Straightening herself up, Belidrae turned her attention onto… Well. She still didn’t know if Toasty was a boy or a girl. Trix had not told her when he gave the kitten to Belidrae on a chilly Winterveil day. Sweeping the kitten up carefully into her arms, she lifted a hand and gently prodded the curious kitten on the nose. “Aren’t you a curious thing,” she greeted her feline friend, a wide smile pulling at her face. “Wanted to come see what Mom was up to, hm? I don’t think your dad would want you in here, but we’ll keep it our little secret.”
Turning her attention back to the rows and rows and rows of Saith’s creations, Belidrae slowly moved down along the shelf and then she paused. There was one he’d been working on specifically for her. More than one, actually. She didn’t know where he’d even gotten the idea for it, but suspected it had something to do with the shade of her skin, something he’d always described as dusky. When he’d first told her about it, he’d described it as a concoction that when ingested would make it look as though constellations spread across her skin.
Belidrae had always liked a starry night sky. Plenty of them she’d spent her time under, even. Did he know she liked them? Had it just been a guess on his part? Leaning closer in to the bottle on display, its label in Saith’s rather picturesque handwriting, she smiled.
“You know, Toasty, you didn’t get to see this, but he made one for me before.”
Her expression was fond. On the night they’d met when he was certain she was divining tea leaves in her coffee, he’d taken her to a beautiful overgrown area with a waterfall and crumbling stone. And there, they’d spoken the entire night. And he’d been convinced that she was an agent of SI:7, something that continued to regularly amuse her. She’d not known it at the time, but his reasoning had been sound. She really was like an informant in her own way. Connections with people, believing those connections were important. Except she’d never been in it for the information. Sure, she’d heard things that otherwise loose lips wouldn’t have freed, but…
Shaking her head, Belidrae freed a sigh, gently squeezing Toasty to her. Saith had taken her back up there. Or rather, she’d taken him.
“It’s where I go when I need a moment’s peace.” She’d told him. “It’s where I go when I need time to think.” And it was as much one of her favourite places to be as the lamppost outside of the city or the river where they had washed Woogle’s clothes together beneath a moonlit sky.
The night she took him up there again, he’d finally completed his constellation potion. Or, rather, what was likely the first version of it. Warned her it tasted horrible. Said it wouldn’t be immediate. She’d grimaced like a child taking medicine that would surely do more good than the taste it left on the tongue. They whittled the time and got lost in conversation. A home in Suramar. His home in Hillsbrad. Futuristic talks of where they saw one another. A seductive dance of words. And she had finished something she started long before then in the Wetlands.
And then she’d glowed just like a night sky glittered with diamonds. Belidrae remembered it all so clearly. In the same way all of her memories of Saith were vivid. Moments in time that were suspended for her occasional perusal. Lightly scratching behind Toasty’s ear, she found herself taken back to those moments that she revisited with frequency. She’d asked him if he could make her something permanent that did the same thing. That she might already have constellations etched into her skin. He’d said it was possible, but as with all of his alchemical things, it was a process.
“How far have you gotten, thas’dorah?”
Looking down to Toasty, she offered a sly smile. “We should probably stop poking around his things, hm?” Although he’d known she was going to. In the city’s tavern, she’d asked him if she could. Her newest garment collection would incorporate all of the different things he’d made. She’d wanted to bring as much attention to his works as she could bring a similar attention to her own.
Making way back for the doorway, she closed it after herself and only after she’d set a rather befuddled Toasty on the ground, Belidrae rested her back to the door. How was she going to emulate the constellations? Imbued cloth, maybe. She’d been able to do it with the fabric that shuddered in light during her testing. But a constellation replica was going to be so much more difficult. Saith wouldn’t have an answer either. He’d admitted rather easily that he knew nothing about her tailoring work or what really went into it.
Rubbing her hands together, her gaze turned sharp and keen. “Well, Toasty, we don’t know until we try, right? Maybe I should make you something to wear. I bet you’d just love that.” Although she doubted the kitten could understand a single thing she said, the fact that she was met by her kitten’s back as they wandered off entirely disinterested in Belidrae’s conversation aloud, she couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be into it. Back to the drawing board, eh?”
