#fio-renze

[fio-renze]

August 17 - Day 1 Ethereal/Calculate

Fighting in the Veiled Market was different than fighting in Undermine. The streets in the goblin city had been wider for their hot rods, with enough buffer from the street to the shopfronts and homes to clear targets and close contracts with little damage to property. The Bazaar of Tangible Delights, a smaller sub-market district within Tazavesh's walls was all narrow streets and tight corners—save for the courtyard by Myza's Oasis. One of the Brokers she had made small talk with shortly after arriving told her how marvelous the club had been before the Shadowguard had swept in and ransacked the place.

Fiorenze sighed and rubbed her jaw. Being underneath the rippling shimmer of the arcane dome that protected the transdimensional city left a lingering taste of magic in the back of her mouth, deep under her molars and in the bone. After the fifth day here she had gotten used to that… Mostly. There were still quiet hours at 'night' where the siren call of it was oppressively apparent.

They wouldn't be here long. The contracts Talon had taken for them had been handled well. She and Tinnaire had to adjust a little; it had been immediately clear that the shop and stall owners from Cartels Ta, Xy and Ba wouldn't appreciate them slinging a spell that wrecked their businesses. Her starmotes spell was a scalpel enough, the astral magic blend of arcane and nature made quick, brilliant work of her Ethereal foes.

She hadn't been able to see the city when the crew had been active in the Shadowlands. Most of her time had been in Oribos and Maldraxxus, with the occasional jaunt to Ardenweald to forge pacts and promises. There were opportunities in the camp's downtime to wander a little in the safer areas. A great, glimmering representation of one of the weald's great dream trees within the plush inn had made her smile.

Her tent was full of silken cushions in a prism of bright colors that she fiercely haggled for after being coached by a Broker from a rival business. It was important to get plenty, especially for those crew members who were coming to join them later. She had found a few unique books and off-world bottled spirits that had to be routed back to Azeroth by courier for Pyraelia and Keranna. Shopping, and learning more about the people who had prevailed in the wake of the death of their home-world, kept much of her restlessness managed—at least, as long as she didn't look out at the horizon where the greater husk of K'aresh loomed in the sky.

Being here reminded her of Silvermoon in a number of ways. There was an odd sort of comfort that came with that kind of familiarity and helped to offset how foreign it still was.

Fiorenze smiled at one of the camp purrkins as it bounded over to her on little metal feet. She had recruited a few to help keep the scrats away from their supplies, and her favorite one—a sleek little creature that was mostly gold with a red hood and vibrant blue stripes—brought her little baubles from time to time the same way Rue would bring her field mice in Eversong.

It was probably a folly to get attached. The likelihood of being able to bring the little creatures with them wherever they moved the camp to next was low, but not zero. She definitely wasn't going to be able to take one back with her when they did eventually return home, and she wasn't convinced the resonant cats would thrive there, either.

One of her long ears flicked as the call to muster went out. Fiorenze gave the little creature a soft pat before scooping up her staff and shoulder pauldron. Whatever the day brought, she was more than happy to face it.

@daily-writing-challenge @themercenaries

[gloamingdawn]

Where Are They Now - Daily Writing Challenge Catch Up

Lynesse Gloamingdawn ( @gloamingdawn )

Since her establishment as an aspirant of Eyir and one of Eyir’s chosen champions on the plane of the living a little over four years ago, she has spent times of peace focusing more on healing and surgery to honor Eyir’s beginnings as a healer pre-ascension and helping ferry souls of the restless dead across the veil. Post-Shadowlands opening, she has spent a significant amount of time as part of Talonoa Dal’shula’s mercenary group, as well as doing what she can where she can with the Kyrian to help stabilize their realm due to the affinity she feels toward them.

Throughout all this she has spent time worrying about the souls she sent on prior to knowing about the shattering of the mechanisms that saw souls to their proper afterlives; Last fall she learned that not to be true, her connection to Eyir has instead seen souls to a temporary rest in the Halls of Valor — notably that of her late husband as well as her father — and she has somewhat settled and become much more at peace with her own personal (if still extremely unusual) role in the grand cycle.

Since the last DWC she has been trying to privately come to terms with her life, unlife, and everything in between while waiting for the next call to come and do her part to fix what she can where she can in the Shadowlands. Her over-awareness of how she can, and has, upset far too many people she’s considered friends in the past has led to her mostly walling herself off, save for a few contacts, to prevent personal conflict to the best of her ability. She hasn’t been up to too much, but she has taken on a new client, the Lady Fiorenze Tel’vaiel, and is currently the on-call doctor for emergencies on the Meadowrun Estate.

Lady Fiorenze Tel’vaiel ( @fio-renze )

The Shadowlands can change a person! Lady Tel’vaiel’s outlook on life — and death — have shifted significantly since she spent the better part of a year in Maldraxxus after hunting down Xylaes, which you can read about here! She has remained committed to her idea of grafting the magic of a Kyrian soul mirror with the magic of a Highborne soul mirror in an effort to attempt to reclaim the immortality of her ancestors. Many of her lonely nights have been spent building spell theory and structure in the privacy of her personal sanctum, a leftover relic of her days practicing fel magic now repurposed for the arcane once again.

It’s hard for her to see a future with Xylaes; based on his past confession that he has no interest in her lifestyle, her experiences with Callia and recognizing the stark differences between herself and Xylaes’ late wife, as well as assuming that he, in all likelihood, would much rather be with Callia after his own death have all been factors that really solidified her decision to move forward with her choice to chase something that’s always seemed impossible. After all, an immortal noble is one that needs no heir or partner, and she can always trust that she herself has the Meadowrun Estate’s best interests in mind.

Fiorenze feels like she’s getting close to the end of her official research phase for this project and feels comfortable with the mending job she worked on the shattered mirror glass from Bastion. The next phase is seating the glass into the Highborne frame and starting to do the actual physical working of the enchantments into both pieces.

While not pouring herself into her personal work, she’s been at many society events over the holidays. Both within the official Court of Silvermoon Nobles and abroad. Being officially promoted by the Grand Magister into the position of his Seneschal has kept her busy, and she secretly remains his Shadowhand and spy in the Court to keep an eye out for dissent and potential threats against the Regency.

Pyraelia Sunmote ( @pyraelia )

Pyraelia’s life has been fairly quiet in the wake of abdicating from her family titles in favor of a common position in society. Her relationship with her sister Fiorenze has mended after Pyraelia was able to confirm with their deceased mother in Revendreth that her sister’s accounting of their parents’ untimely deaths were correct, and that neither had been killed by her out of malice.

After quitting the Magistry’s research department because it wasn’t really fulfilling to her, she’s trying to find what she does want to do. All she’s really settled on is work that helps people and makes them happy, but that’s so vague and broad. For now she’s trying to be content with having no expectations placed on her at all and spend more time with her close friends whenever she can.

Serazhen Silvercloud ( @serazhen )

Sera remains a workaholic; He helps cater noble parties as an easy gig job, he works at a couple bars in Dalaran splitting his schedule between the two, and still makes time to help at Tart performances and booths when they’re on the calendar.

It’s a lot, and it does grind him down at every edge. He’s starting to think that might not be the best lifestyle to upkeep, and it keeps him from really spending time with the first group of friends he’s wanted to be with in a while. Over the holidays he’s decided to start looking into learning the basics of jewelcrafting because it seems lucrative and a little less demanding.

He recognizes that if he wants those friends, mostly Ryland and Vixannya, to stick around that he has to open up a bit more, something that’s been hard for him to do since being exiled from the cult he grew up in, so it’s something he’s actively going to try to work on being better at this year even though the concept is a little scary.

***

@daily-writing-challenge

[fio-renze]

August 20 - Day 4 Direction/Languish

"Lass, you're awake! That's good," Rynga's voice lilted over in warm, dwarvish brough.

That meant the unfamiliar canvas she was staring up at had to be the roof of the healer's tent. Did she want to be awake? Her throat felt like she had swallowed a white hot coal and she was starting to rapidly become aware of the other parts of her body that ranged from the general post-battle sore to terribly painful.

"Y'might just be the luckiest lass on this planet. If ya can sit up, there's a potion in it for ya. Well, there's one in it for ya if ye can't either, but I'd like ya to try," the healer's voice was encouraging.

Fiorenze had learned early on that she was an extremely hard woman to say no to, and even feeling as wrecked as she was she wasn't planning on starting now. Rynga slid a hand under her back and took her hand on the side that hurt the least, and Fio used the leverage—but mostly Rynga's strength—to slowly get more vertical. This was deeply unpleasant, but it didn't last long. A few of her silk Tazavesh cushions were quickly piled behind her back and she was allowed to settle in a more comfortable recline.

She started to ask what time it was. The way her lips moved and the intention was there even though her voice didn't follow was something that would probably stick with her forever. A wash of fear briefly stifled the rest of the unpleasantness, but Rynga gently folded a potion vial into her hand, "A couple millimeters to the side would've severed an artery an' when ya stopped bein' a glowin' bear th' exceptionally clean entrance and exit wounds in yer neck meant y'were havin' trouble breathin'."

Luckiest lass on the planet.

She worried the edge of the potion's cork with her fingernail, a thousand thoughts and concerns whirled through her mind in a way that meant she couldn't really grasp any of them.

"Might nae be permanent. Hard t'say at th' moment, yer still healin'," the reassuring pat that Rynga gave her non-terrible shoulder alongside her speculation did help. "Plus you have some of th' most interestin' scars I've ever seen."

Maybe it was the quirk of her silver eyebrow or maybe Rynga had already planned on it, but she gestured for Fiorenze to drink the potion—which she did, to almost immediate relief—and then bustled off to gather up a fairly plain compact mirror that she held up for her to see. Centered in the deep, splotchy bruising in the middle of her throat was an odd, iridescent pattern. It lacked the chaos of a Lichtenberg figure but wasn't perfectly neat either; frankly it reminded her of a spiraling crop circle she'd seen once in one of Pyraelia's Mystery of Southern Humans books she'd had growing up.

Magic did weird shit sometimes. Perhaps that wouldn't be permanent, either.

She was handed a pen and paper then, which was an immediately grounding act. The first question she scrawled in her neat-as-a-pin Common was 'Comm?', then 'What time is it?' and 'What next?'

Rynga chuckled and answered, "I'll ask Tinnaire to get it from yer things when she's awake. It's late on Azeroth by my watch, and what's next is up to ya. Yer not healin' poorly, one more day in here an' ye should be back on yer feet. Y'could head back home an' see a specialist for yer voice if it doesn't start comin' back in about a week, but that's between you an' yer conscience."

Or, she could stay and let the chips fall where they may.

Would that really be so bad?

Plenty of the other crew members could hand sign. She'd have to learn, but that didn't seem unobtainable or overwhelming. The comm had a text-to-voice feature in the in-between, and there was always ink and paper.

Staying active here meant no time to languish or wallow alone in her home-tree back in Eversong.

"Yer ears are goin' on a journey, lass," the amusement was clear in Rynga's tone, but it was enough to make her wilt a little. "None of that now. Dinnae rush, y'can always figure out yer direction tomorrow."

@daily-writing-challenge / @kharrisdawndancer (tinnaire) @themercenaries

[fio-renze]

TW: Violence, injury and blood

August 19 - Day 3 Twitterpated/Primal

They were so close to The Oasis.

Fiorenze adjusted her grip on staff as her eyes snapped up to rifts opening in the air around the eco-dome and, worse, their caravan full of supplies and non-combat travelers. “Protect the caravan!” Talon's command cut clear through the start of the panic. She ran then, athleticism and elvish grace keeping her light on her feet across the fine sand of the ruined planet.

It has been lush once, teeming with life. Plants bloomed within the eco-dome, they had past old, gnarled trees long petrified and stripped of their bark. Somewhere under her feet were roots, dead and long dormant—but she could work with that. Fiorenze slammed the small, hooked end of her staff into the ground like a javelin and sent a focused pulse of nature magic through the sand as she launched herself up into the air toward one of the flying mites. She slammed down with the barbed end and rode the creature down to the earth as a burst of golden leaves trailed in her wake.

And there they were, waiting. It was no small feat of magic to reanimate the long fallow roots, but they shot out of the sand and wrapped around the gorgers and maulers, giving some of the caravan precious time to advance closer to safety.

She exhaled and rocketed forward again, melding arcane with the golden magic already in her grasp in a stellar fusion that she split into nine motes and shot out in a dazzling arc to down more of the mites harrying the crew. The chittering died down then, but not before the sand started to roil and quake underneath them.

A terrible, worm like abomination burst forth from below in a spray of crystalline powder. She was already instinctually moving as Talon's voice cemented her new direction as the right one, “You all, get the caravan and non-fighters inside the dome, now! Don’t return until everyone is safe!”His gaze swept to the others, his presence steady and unwavering. “The rest of you are with me, we hold this thing here. Keep it focused on us, away from the others and the dome.”

Fiorenze pivoted on her heel, confident the Caravan could advance without her. She called down a bolt of moonfire and sunfire in an instant and manifested more star motes, hurling them toward the beast. There wasn't time to be horrified as she watched the lanced, astral fire ricochet off and out toward the other fighters; instead, time slowed as her motes shot right back at her.

There's something to be said for the clarity that comes with seeing a spell thrown with lethal intent return with the same vigor. A mote tore through her throat before she could raise her defenses, a second ripped through her shoulder and a third through her thigh. She hit the sand in agony as a crimson spray of her own blood pooled beneath her. Whatever the damage, it wasn't immediately fatal.

A shadow fell across her as she scrambled to her knees, adrenaline spiking alongside the taste of iron in her mouth and the pulse of her own heartbeat in her ears. She looked up over her shoulder to see Dicenne, his shield up to shelter her from any more magic that came their way. His mouth was moving, and he looked concerned, but she couldn't hear him. Whatever primal possession that hunts wild alongside a near death pushed her into frenzied action. In the same moment she understood why so many women were completely twitterpated the moment he came near. He certainly was handsome, wasn't he?

But she had to change to survive. Her fingers flexed as she called her magic to her in a split second that felt like an eternity. Where a woman had been a large, neon blue arcane bear took her place. The wounds remained in her other form, the right shape of herself, and would still be there when this was all over. Her shoulder nudged Dice's hip reassuringly as she used a bit of the excess energy to give him a blessing of the wild. There were others that would need his help, and a friendly boost always went a long way.

The bear's glowing maw opened to roar in fury as Stellan was swallowed whole, though no sound came out. There would be time to grieve later, and there were people being engulfed by quicksand now. Her painful, limping lope carried her to the first hazard her strength could help. This was where she was needed now, everything else was a future Fiorenze problem.

@daily-writing-challenge / @themercenaries / @dicenne / @inistellan / @talonoa

[fio-renze]

August 21 - Day 5 Rustic/Attack

The cool water in the Oasis' central pool hugged her ankles. There was no wind in the dome so it was fairly still, which meant it was easy enough to roll up the cotton twill of her 'lounge around camp' pants to keep them from getting wet.

Rynga wanted her to take it easy for at least a week. Talon had visited and made his case that it was best for her if she went back to Silvermoon. They were on a lean crew out here in the middle of nowhere on a husk of a planet, and their abilities to handle her worst injury—and sudden inability to communicate well—were not promising.

She had been warned that the potions for pain management were going to convince her that she could do more, but that was a lie and not to be trusted. Even pulling her floof of starry white curls up after a well needed shower had made her shoulder ache horribly, and it was hard to stay standing for too long at a time. But the Oasis called to her, so she was pushing it a little.

Back home she swam in the Elrendar almost every day. Being in the water was where she did her best thinking, and this was the first time she'd seen any on K'aresh. She didn't disagree with Talon. Even in the immediate hours where she felt she could make it work it had steadily grown more frustrating to be unable to ask for assistance or simply chat without needing something else to aid in the process. Plus she was having to be monitored, even on short walks like this, all the time. That was deeply tedious and not sustainable for the crew's success.

Not to mention there had been something else weighing on her mind since the Devourer attack—or really, a revelation she'd had during the Devourer attack.

Did she have a crush on Dicenne?

Not that it would be unusual, lots of people had a crush on Dicenne. She did get friend-crushes sometimes. Was this one of those, or was this a more formal Crush-crush? He did have a sort of rustic, romantic charm about him, and she had a couple bodice ripper novels where he'd modeled for the gentleman on the cover.

And if it WAS a Crush-crush, did that really matter? It's not like it would, or could, really go anywhere. She liked him as her friend without any of the extra complications. Even if extra complications could be really fun for a while. Potentially extremely sexy fun for a while. That was the danger zone, though. She'd followed that path before and it had only ended in heartache.

It didn't have to be anything she didn't want it to be. She was in control of how she managed her mess. …And the risk of her running her mouth and saying something that ruined anything was greatly diminished now. There was the opportunity to just be chill, enjoy the day-to-day and let whatever this was ride. Going home would certainly temper it a bit.

Her attention snapped to a pair of strange alien foxes that tumbled out of the brush across from her pensive spot in the pond. They chattered and chased each other, playing in the warm light provided by the dome that contained this unique terrarium. Arcane protecting nature, working in tandem together. Balanced.

Regardless of the crush-maybe-not-crush situation, the decision to head home and the greater threats facing this world and their world, it was hard not to feel hopeful in a place like this.

She liked that very much.

@daily-writing-challenge / @dicenne & @talonoa & @themercenaries

[fio-renze]

August 14 - Day 4 Ego/Coincidence 

“Oh my goodness, Fiorenze, how funny running into you here, I was just thinking about you!” 

That was probably unlikely, but it wouldn’t do to dispute it publicly. She smiled cordially to the Lady Tel’vaiel — who had immediately began to dig roughly through the prepared bouquets in buckets at the front of her little cart — and offered a brief and simple, “How strange.” 

Sheizara casually rested her elbows on the cart’s edge, her body language far too familiar for Fiorenze’s liking, “Honestly, it’s a miracle, really. Miss Zerine told me you were leaving soon and I wasn’t sure I was going to see you — we haven’t had enough time to properly discuss the Estate. Did you know the Town Council has become extremely demanding? The representative from the Glass Foundry keeps asking me so many questions. Do you have some time for me to run them by you?” 

“I’m surprised Keranna wouldn’t help you. Unfortunately, as you can see, I am at work,” she gestured to her space, and the Bazaar beyond. Not that there were really any customers this late in the afternoon, but the point had to be made. 

Sheizara immediately dropped a little coin purse that landed with a heavy enough clink to let Fiorenze know that it was more money than she’d made all week onto her little sales table, “Wellll, you know. She’s retired now, at least that’s what she told me. I don’t think she likes me very much. When are you leaving? Where are you going? Is it soon? Will you be able to come by the Estate before you go?” 

Murder is a capital crime and there are a terrible amount of witnesses in this market, Fiorenze reminded herself as she quietly picked the bribe up off the table and pocketed it, “That’s quite a few questions, Lady Tel’vaiel. To be frank, I’m not sure. The leader of the mercenary group that has occasionally employed me reached out and let me know to be prepared to move if he makes the call to do so. Considering that, I can’t make too many promises or hard commitments. These things can move frighteningly fast at times.” 

“A mercenary group!” Sheizara’s blue eyes lit up with an even brighter glow, “If they took you on, do you think they’d take me?”

She probably hadn’t meant it as insulting as it had come out, right? Fiorenze sighed and took a moment to scrawl Talonoa’s information across the back of an empty card usually reserved for greetings and well wishes that accompanied the flowers meant to be given as gifts, “That’s between you and Mister Dal’shula. You’ve only recently moved here to take over the Estate, are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“Of course it is! Nobles back mercenary groups all the time, right? It’ll make me look strong, and capable, because I am both of those things but there’s no real way to prove that by sitting in the manor, you know? Of course you know, you’re part of it,” Sheizara looked far too pleased with herself as she snatched the card away and tucked it into her bra for safe keeping. 

Right. 

“Right! Anyway, we should go get dinner, out in public like this probably isn’t the best place to talk business, is it? Don’t worry, I’ll pay,” Sheizara’s chipper attitude was unflagging as she started to help herself in lifting the little buckets of bouquets up and into the cart without really asking. “Like you heard earlier, so many questions. I have another one, too. Have you ever considered getting married again?” 

It was going to be an extremely long evening.

@daily-writing-challenge / @talonoa

[fio-renze]

August 11 - Day 1 Melee/Tournament

Silvermoon City’s general peace and quiet was a far cry from how the tournament grounds had been, but Fiorenze found she couldn’t complain. The Bazaar felt as tired as she did, embracing a slower paced, lazy Sunday. 

The owner of the coffee cart near her own spot offered to trade her a cup for a couple small bouquets to dress up their table. She bought a couple donuts from a bakery stall. Chatted idly with a couple other nearby vendors. None of them recognized her except as the new flower cart woman; why would they? She’d never patronized any of these places herself when she had been titled, let alone any other noble born. 

Everything they were selling in this corner was different enough that there was no real competition, merely easy camaraderie. 

How long would this last? 

As she cut and bound stems together for pre-made grab and go flower bundles she ran through everything she still needed for her mercenary kit together. Her travel bag was still in fine form. With the right enchantments her tent would be fine in any terrain and climate. She was swapping the Pyraelia’s Perfect Penthouse scrolls for a raised cot and bedroll this time. Her boots had been re-soled, cleaned and freshly laced. At Yserina’s urging she’d slowly been swapping out her cloth training armor for supple leather — it would hold up better long term, and protect her a bit more if she wound up in a melee. 

She’d need to stop by Khaeris’ spot at some point and stock up on potions. The book vendor for a few new titles to pack, just in case, and the soap ladies for new bars for her soap and laundry kit. 

There was still no guarantee that any of it would be needed, but with the rapidity that the Song was blooming in her mind these days and Azeroth spawning memories, or nightmares, to be tackled, she knew better than to expect nothing. 

It would also be foolish to take what gentle mornings remained for granted. 

She smiled as she had a sip of her coffee and watched the market grow livelier with every passing hour. The future would get here when it got here, whether she chased it at a full sprint or a slower pace.

@daily-writing-challenge / @kharrisdawndancer

[fio-renze]

August 17 - Day 7 Enigma/Victory

Eversong was radiant from the top of her tree. The wind would shift the canopy and give her the occasional hazy glimpse of the towering spires that made up the city proper. Fiorenze sighed as the radiant song bloomed in her mind again, calling out with an urgency and a sharp lance of pain that interrupted a particularly good paragraph of her novel. 

Exactly what whoever was sending that beacon wanted was still a mystery shrouded in an enigma. Pyraelia’s work on the research task force had at least turned up a rumor that something similar had happened on another planet at another time shortly before that planet was consumed. That didn’t bode well, but what was she — or any of the thousands of others hearing it — meant to do? 

Her guardian tree swayed in the sea breeze, golden leaves twisting in a way that made them seem to sparkle in the sunlight. Bringing this place to a healthier state had been a great distraction. Something to do in the middle of what she felt was a great ‘hurry up and wait’. Her long ears perked up as something cracked and crashed to the ground below her, and she stowed her book before scrambling down from her high perch. 

It was easier now that she was all lean muscle, eight months of fairly intense training had paid off in ways that would undoubtedly pay forward with what Talon’s group demanded of a person. She let go the last few feet and landed softly on the balls of her feet. 

A decently large branch had fallen and impaled the dirt near one of the tree’s curling aerial roots. One that didn’t look too unwieldy to hold, and was fresh enough that it stood a chance at being shaped into a better form. She smiled brightly as she retrieved it and lay her free hand on the tree’s trunk, willing a bit of magic into the pale bark to heal where it had split. It was the best way she could say thank you. 

Making her staff was the last piece of her kit, and now she could actively start work on making it into something she could be proud of. A focus for the three types of magic at her disposal — nature, arcane and astral. It was a strange thing to be excited about, but she was all the same. 

Sometimes you had to hold tight to your small victories, and this was a tangible one.

@daily-writing-challenge