@hatedinlife
We should have come for you earlier.
What, an understatement.
No, the “medics”, they had their jobs cut out for them, Koltira can’t feel most of his right ear, light, if he hadn’t have found his ring finger the elf might not have had that re-attached either.
Oh the knives.
The arcane, the fel, the everything.
It was better to not focus so hard on it.
“Of course,” It’s a mutter– hard to find his voice, not from screams, from silence. “I’m more than happy to be put back into the battlefield at any given moment, of course.”
A pause– he doesn’t know what’s happened through the passing years.
Was everyone still alive?
Darion, Thassarian– anyone.
What changed?
Does Thassarian still remember him?
“Sister, what’s left out there, for me?”
Pale fingers twitched, itching to - to do something, like how she’d seen mortals do when reunited with kin after long separation, or when they sat quietly at a hospice bed. Take a hand, thread through hair, something, except - except they weren’t mortal, were they, Deathweaver and Mith. They had not been mortal in a very long time.
“You’re such a fool.” There would be a bite to the words were their recipient another person, but instead all she can really dredge up is a tired sort of fondness. “Bit daft, throwing you to the wolves when we only just got you out of the den.”
Four years. How could they have failed one of their own so grievously, so carelessly? How could he be left to languish in the Undercity as Sylvanas’ plaything, rather than lording in Acherus with the rest of his brothers and sisters (with the rest of us)? He wasn’t some unborn acolyte, barely worth the armor strapped on him, he was Koltira bloody Deathweaver, one of their eldest, one of their strongest, and he’d been - he’d -
Light’s blood, what was wrong with them?
“Whatever you wish, Brother.”
Muted tones would yet cradle genuine affection, coldly warped though it may sound due to the graven reverberations characteristic to their kind. So much had happened while he languished, war and madness and annihilation beyond ken that had spanned across continents, across worlds. Pandaria, the alternate Draenor, and now the Legion raining upon them. Sylvanas, it seemed, left him in the dark (they left him in the dark) about everything.
“Acherus is not greatly altered since last you were here; and what has changed is not of any great importance at the moment. ‘Sarian’ll probably want to tell you more than I.”
She did not know if it was better or worse, neglecting to inform him of her... promotion. Surely, Deathweaver had better things to concern himself with than the new Lord of the Ebon Blade.
Like whether he’d need a new ear or not.
