Home is where?
Rain fell in Duskwood again, Vizriel slowed Xaxivara to a walk and drew his hood back, angling his face skyward and closing his eyes for a few beats of the felsteed’s hooves. He slowly opened his eyes and watched as raindrops streaked through the air, obeying currents of air that he could barely see, let alone feel. He smiled wide, doing his best to commit the rain on his face to memory. He knew that Elwynn forest didn’t see the kind of weather that Duskwood did. There was far more sun in Elwynn than he knew he would ever be comfortable with.
But there were far worse things than the sun looming in Duskwood now. No rain, or the perpetual shade of trees could convince him to keep his family there any longer. He and Istari couldn’t ignore the whispers and the overheard reports in Darkshire. They couldn’t subject their child to whatever was on its way. They couldn’t risk losing one another again. They had to leave, and they had to make sure they weren’t followed.
The warlock rounded the corner, looking up the hill at their home. That tall, lonely, spooky house, surrounded by trees, and shadows. He exhaled and his shoulders drooped a bit. It was a dream house, and it was made the home of his dreams because of the people who joined him there. Istari, Abityria, Mary, his host of demons, the menagerie. It was the perfect home. He was sure they could make a home anywhere as long as they brought those people with them, but would they always just be trying to recreate this one?
He swung his leg over Xaxivara’s saddle and landed in the rain-soaked ground. As the warlock approached the house, he started as a massive silhouette appeared in the doorway and hefted a huge, mean-looking axe into its grip.
“Who goes the-Ooh hey li’l buddy!” Flaaghun exclaimed, the felguard lowered his axe immediately and plodded toward the warlock. Vizriel smiled and nodded to the massive wall of spikes and muscle that was nearly bouncing with excitement at seeing him.
“It’s good to see you, Goon. Thank you for coming.” He pounded his fist on one of the felguard’s armored plates. The demon beamed proudly at finally having been given a nickname.
“It’s good to see you too li’l buddy! So! Where’s the wife and wee Bit?” He asked eagerly. Vizriel shook his head.
“Istari’s taken Bit to her Mum’s for the night. There are still a few more important items here at the house, and I want to make sure they’re taken care of if we’re going to be in the city for a while.” He said, walking toward the house.
“Oh, uh right.” Goon said, following Vizriel inside. He knew that when the warlock walked away right after talking, it was time to get stuff done.
They entered the house, and Vizriel looked around, sighing softly. Crates and chests were stacked everywhere. The drapes with the spiderweb print that they had put up one Hallow’s End, and never wound up taking down, were folded on top of a still-open crate. There was another box, mainly full of candles of various colours. There were lots, and lots of books. Some were packed away, some were still stacked, yet to be categorized properly.
He approached a small chest that wasn’t able to close for all of the papers tucked inside of it. Giving it a curious look, he opened the chest and a few letters spilled out on to the floor. He knelt down and plucked them off the floor, opening one of them as he rose. A smile spread across his lips as he read it. It was one of the first letters he had sent to Istari, back when they both knew they loved one another, but hadn’t quite admitted it yet. He skimmed it, feeling again all the little things he felt when he first wrote it.
He opened the second letter. This one he read from start to finish. It wasn’t long, but it was the most important collection of written words his eyes had ever read. Mirvina had brought it to him, when he had infiltrated the Twilight’s Hammer. The succubus was able to turn invisible, and had secreted correspondence between Vizriel and Istari. This was the letter he read, soaking in a tub, after sacrificing cultists to the Old Gods. This was the letter Istari wrote to tell him that he had to return safe, that she was pregnant. He paused at the last few words.
“Hey li’l buddy...” Goon said, hunching down, almost reaching out a gauntleted hand to the warlock. “So uh, what’s the plan here?” He asked, softening his deep voice the best he could. Vizriel quickly folded the two letters and put them back in the chest, shutting it. He straightened, sniffed, but didn’t turn.
“I um...” He cleared his throat. “I promised Bit some of your cherry pie for breakfast tomorrow” He reached a hand up to his face. “I hate to impose.” He said, finally turning about. Flaaghun was already awkwardly tying an apron around his waist.
“Say no more, li’l buddy! You do what you gotta do here... I’ll be in the kitchen.” The demon plodded off. Vizriel watched him go, smiling wide. He swallowed back the lump in his throat, and made for the cellar.
((I’m gonna split this story in two. I’m super tired, and I don’t quite have the rest figured out yet. Also it makes it easier to read if it’s split up, I think. G’night folks!))