#hazriel

[thiefcant]

❝  but  then  she  fell  prey  to  a  demon  of  greed,  who  slowly  consumed  her  body  and  soul.  ❞

the story is told in a dramatic way that would normally make rixian smile, but instead it reminds him of that clicking beak and taunting tone of the thing that had hidden under his skin for weeks in barovia.

vengu's face haunts his nightmares even now, taunting him with the sensation of being blissfully free of fear at the cost of pieces of his soul. he clicks his teeth together a bit, a holdover of habit from his possession, and pushes himself to smile.

" quite the tale! where'd you hear it from? it's something to set the hair on your neck standing on end, isn't it? "

a heart's a heavy burden.

[avrenn]

"Just wanted to let you know you should probably not look for that knife you left on the counter... I'm sure it's still in perfect condition, so no need to worry. And my apologies but, we are friends."

"...You know, I should have known better than to leave it out while you were stopping by, that's on me. I will take your advice and not worry--and I will also not expect to see it back, from that tone of voice. If anything happens, just blame J'egr."

@hazriel 💜 @j-egr ❤

[drunkenworgen]

prank: all the whiskey's been switched out for a rancid red wine - some of the worse off bottles only have a disgusting black ichor left in the bottom.

Give my muse problems!

(Accepting!)

Gin growled under her breath as her search for whiskey became fruitless. Someone had come in and swapped out the whiskey for bottles of red wine. While normally, she'd enjoy a nice red, these were all corked or simply rancid - stored improperly or simply aged beyond saving.

"Y'know, there're much easier ways t'tell me t'stop drinkin'," she shouted to no one as she sifted through the bottles. "Cannae even use these fer cookin', think ah'd kill someone with 'ow -" she recoils after sniffing one of the bottles - "disgustin' these are."

( @hazriel )

[drunkenworgen]

CULT OF FORGOTTEN SHADOWS - Have they ever blindly followed someone or something? What was it that blinded them?

WORLD OF WARCRAFT THEMED MUSE Q’S

(Accepting!)

Greymane. She was born and raised behind the Wall and knew nothing other than Gilneas for the longest time. She'd been brought to the Manor by her estranged uncle at the age of 13, using his connections to find work for her and to keep her away from Minerva. While there, Gin would watch the Greyguard with awe. These people were trained to protect others...to keep them safe.

Watching them lead to her very early vow to keep others safe in a way she was never given, no matter what that meant.

At the age of 16, she lied and said she was 18 in order to join the trainees. Gin would soon learn what Greymane, his nobles, and the Greyguard were keeping from the citizens of Gilneas. It was to keep them safe, they were told (ordered). Why should she question it?

Keep them safe.

Her main goal was to keep others safe...

But the worgen -

Keep them safe...!

The feral worgen are controlled through the hunts. Greymane can control his curse, it won't spread past him, it won't. It can't.

To this day, she believes that had she and others spoken up about Greymane's curse earlier, a cure could have been worked on prior to their country being attacked from the inside, outside, and underneath. They wouldn't have had to use the prisoners that Gin and a few others ultimately freed from the basement in Duskhaven.

She cut ties with Greymane shortly after arriving in Darnassus, only to be drafted (blackmailed) back into his ranks when the Legion returned. Gin was finally able to leave for good after her ordeal in the Nightmare.

She will never again blindly follow any leader, but she still keeps the same vow:

Keep them safe.

( @hazriel )

[drunkenworgen]

BWONSAMDI - What ceremonies would they want to be performed before and/or after their death? 

WORLD OF WARCRAFT THEMED MUSE Q’S

(Accepting!)

"Ah don' wan' anythin' flashy. Tha' ain' me in life, an' it won' be in death." The shot was downed, the glass placed upside down on the table in front of her. "Ah don' wan' anyone lyin' 'bout me bein' a bloody deligh' or anythin' like 'at. We all know 'm an absolute menace t'society." Her laughter rang out through the bar: loud and bright. "When Azeroth finally finds a way t'rid 'erself o' me...ah'd like t'return t'Gilneas. T'th'Blackwald. Find a quiet place t'put me t'rest...underneath th'roses 'f m'omeland."

Another short was poured for her, this time she sipped at it, pointing at her companion with her glass. " 'At's wot ah wan'. An' 'f m'wishes're ignored, 'm gonna 'aunt th'shit outta ev'ryone."

( @hazriel )

[grueviolette]

10. what genre do you most enjoy, whether in roleplay, or fiction as a whole? (fantasy, period, superhero, etc.)

The possibility of creating stories with other people. It's so cool. I find it satisfying to learn new ways of writing.

( @hazriel )

[safrona-shadowsun]

if you can't tell me everything, at least give me a hint.

"What is there to know?" the Courier replied with an impassive shrug. Her lips lifted in some sign of a tease, "Now, I could regale you with all the mundane tedium of the mailing process and the productive path of being a courier under my wing, but something tells me that's not what you're looking for."

The void elf followed Hazriel's eye to the dreadful beauty that was the spectral Scythe hovering just behind the professional's left shoulder. Void and Fel energies alike seemed to swirl in some controlled chaos around its heavily decorated chain and metal, as if garbed by the manifestation of alien Nightmare. Safrona feigned surprise at Hazriel's interest. "This...?"

Two slender fingers came together on her left hand, and gestured down, making the Scythe of the Black Harvest spin like a wheel behind her shoulder with a dangerous closeness, but the Courier was not once touched by the dread long blade. "Now this? Only the product of a path less traveled."

With a dismissive gesture, the scythe seemed to warp from reality, suddenly unseen. The ungodly blade could have been a mirage or illusion, for all anyone could have told. "I'm afraid that's too long of a story for this short road." The Courier inhaled, eyeing the city awaiting just a few steps away that business carried her to. City eyes held its visitors to certain strict expectation, and there, a Courier could only ever be a Courier.

"You can send a letter like anyone else to a Red Courier, but some prefer a journey, and for that I would recommend finding Seon in the Tavern of the Mists. I might be open to a little Confession...for a price."

Another delicate gesture from the Courier indicated a goodbye.

{ @hazriel }

[darkblessed]

‘  it  is  dangerous  to  travel  the  northern  road  with  a  troubled  heart.  ’

" and what would the northern road consider a troubled heart? "

enebish asks the question in his quiet tone, even as he continues packing supplies into the wooden medicine chest he often wore slung against his back. small drawers are filled and closed with a practiced hand, until the entire box is clicked closed and he pulls it onto his back again.

a troubled heart. his existence was as a troubled heart, but the northern roads would lead to places that did not know his name or his troubles. a fresh start.

" any advice you would give? "

the language of thorns.