(( A sort of sequel/”one year later” companion piece to Solstice, the first IC story I posted on this blog. A lot has changed since then, for both me and Mahat, almost all of it for the better. We’ve both been moving from just surviving to actually living life, and it’s a rough journey sometimes, but having friends along for the ride makes all the difference. Special shout-out to @coldwall-collective, all you nerds are my family and I love you and you’re gonna have to live with that. Thank you also to all of you who have taken the time to get to know ‘Hat in game, or to read the stories here on Tumblr. It means so, so much to me. I hope you all have a beautiful and bright New Year. ))
-music-
It was the longest night of the year, and Mahat wasn't alone.
They made their way up the mountainside together, the three of them—two dark-sighted elves helping along a small, half-human child when the path grew rocky and steep. Their progress was much slower than the last time she had come this way by herself, but Mahat didn't feel the need to rush a single moment of it. She kept looking back over her shoulder and smiling at her two most beloved: the tall elven man, lean and strong, long white hair dripping over his shoulders like moonlight while silvery stubble did nothing to hide the crooked grin on his face, and the little girl holding his hand, bouncing and bubbly even at that late hour, her dark curls as abundant as her eager questions.
“Are we a'most there? Have you ever been 'ere, Mister Jaoyn? I en't gone cuz Mum said I were too small an' couldn't make the climb but I'm a really good climber now, see? I kin almos' do it all by m'self! What kind o' tree is that? D'you like countin' stars, Mister Jaoyn?” Her sweet, fluting voice flowed around and over Jaoyn's softly amused answers, as easily as a creek over stones, darting from one subject to the next with barely a pause for breath.
Eventually, the terrain leveled out, before dipping them into the small, deep bowl of a clearing. There was a lake at the center, black and gleaming like obsidian under the night sky, while the rest of the crevice was lush with mountain grasses and moss, sheltered from the winds by the high rock walls. The trio unrolled a thick wool blanket onto the ground and curled up together, Saera in the middle while Jaoyn and Mahat framed her like parentheses.
They lay like that for a long time, watching the stars drift by above them, telling each other stories about the things they saw in the sky. Jaoyn gave his rendition of a Tarauhe legend about how the moon fell in love with a white stag, and Mahat recited an ancient tale about a sky goddess that no one else in the world would ever remember. Saera, meanwhile, regaled the adults with the exciting adventures of her stuffed rabbit Ham and her rag doll Paedru, as they set out to steal a star for their very own and ended up jousting with an ill-tempered dragon and answering riddles set for them by a harpy queen, before finally succeeding in their quest and coming home just in time for a crucial tea party.
“Saera...” Mahat said cautiously, as the story drew to its close. “I 'ave a question fer ye.”
Sensing in her mother's tone that this would be a Very Important Grown-Up Question, the girl immediately sat up straight and folded her hands in her lap, nodding solemnly, her grey eyes wide with interest. Mahat covered her mouth briefly to hide a smile, before collecting herself once more.
“I know ye an' Jaoyn is still getting' 'quainted wi' each other, but I reckon ye two is on th' way ta bein' good friends, eh?” Identical eager nods from the man and the child greeted her statement, and she almost lost her composure to laughter again. “Aye, an' I feel th' same abou' th' both o' ye. Matter o' fact, I love both o' ye ver' much.” She took a breath to steady herself, hoping against all evidence to the contrary that this, all of this, was the right thing to do. “I asked Jaoyn ta marry me. Wha' d'ye think abou' tha'?”
Saera's expression crumpled in sorrow and Mahat felt her heart seize in her chest. “But he's no' my da!”
“Oh, love—nay, nay, 'e en't but--” Mahat reached out to her daughter without thinking and plunged onwards, trying to ignore the churning in her gut and the stricken look on Jaoyn's face. “But I swear, 'e loves ye an' me both, jes' as much as yer da e'er did. I bloody—I miss yer da like crazy, ev'ry damn day an' I know ye do too. But ye know… y'know 'e wouldn' want us t' stay sad an' lonely f'ever, eh?” Her voice softened as Saera's lips quivered and her eyes swam with held-back tears. “There, love… 's all righ'… nobody's fergettin' yer da, or replacin' 'im… there's more'n enou' love in my 'eart fer ye an' him an' Jaoyn too, an' I reckon… if ye look, ye'll find there's more'n enou' in yers too. Ye didn't stop lovin' Ham jes' cuz Jaoyn gave ye Paedru, eh?” The child sniffled heavily and shook her head. “Aye, 'course no', e'en though ye love Paedru too, jes' as much. It'll be like tha'. Ye'll always 'ave yer da wi' ye, watchin' o'er ye, bein' a part o' ye. Ye won't lose 'im—neither o' us will, I promise. We's jes' lucky, ye an' I, cuz we found one more person we kin love, who loves us.”
Saera wavered, looking hopeful but still hesitant. Jaoyn spoke up then, hastening to soothe the child even through his own worry and mild horror at her reaction to the news. “Miss Saera, everything your mother says is true. Your father… I never met him, but it's clear he loved you and your mother very, very much. I would never—I would hate for you to think I wanted to steal him from you, in some way. All I want is for you and your mother to be happy and safe… and to be there to make sure of it.” His odd, gentle formality seemed to sway the little girl, and she nodded slowly.
“I think—you're nice, Mister Jaoyn. I don't think you would do mean things or try an' steal my da. I think Mum loves you a lot an' Ham an' Paedru both like you and think you're funny.” Saera gained some confidence as she spoke, though she was still a bit unsteady and the tears in her eyes hadn't entirely vanished. “Um. I would like it ver' much if you married my mum. But if you en't my da then wha' is ye?” Her brow furrowed in deep concern.
“Whatever you'd like me to be, Miss Saera… an uncle perhaps… or simply Jaoyn,” the man replied, meeting her gaze with equal gravity.
“I have a uncle a'ready,” she said dismissively, before brightening suddenly, the tips of her half-elven ears flicking up to peep through her mass of curls. “Oh! You can be my an'da.” She used the Darnassian word for “father” blithely and firmly, as though that settled the matter. Jaoyn and Mahat exchanged a brief look of desperate relief—was it really just that simple?--before the girl spoke up again. “Does tha' mean we kin live t'gether, Mum? Like we used ta? Like a, a family?” She was nearly breathless with excitement all of a sudden, her eyes gleaming in the night almost as brightly as a true Kaldorei's.
Mahat felt the back of her throat drop out and her insides plummeting into endless void. “N-nay… nay, lass. No' yet. It en't safe--” Her voice was dry as the dust of a tomb as she watched the shining hope in her daughter's face twist itself into despair and then an instant later, furious anger.
“Why no’?!” Saera shrieked, eyes welling with tears once again. “Ye said—you said—he loves us! He wants to keep us safe, an', an' happy! We should be happy an' we should be together! It en't fair!” The child's howl of grief echoed off the canyon walls, cutting into Mahat deeper than most knives she'd felt.
“It en't, it en't, y'right love...” Mahat mumbled, trying to keep from cracking to pieces while her daughter needed help, needed her to be strong. “There's nothin' 'bout this tha's fair, an' ye kin be angry, ye 'ave ev'ry right t' be angry, at—at th' world, at me—I's sorry, I's so damn sorry, I's doin' ev'rythin' I kin--” Her voice cracked on a harsh sob just as strong arms settled around her shoulders and pulled her in close.
“It's all right, my love,” Jaoyn murmured in her ear, holding her tightly as she clutched at his shirt and struggled to calm her erratic breathing. It was only a moment, but it was enough, the kiss he pressed to her forehead centering her, making the world swim back into focus. She squeezed his hand gratefully and glanced at Saera, who seemed about an inch and a half away from total meltdown herself, only momentarily stalled as her rage vied with concern for her clearly stricken mother.
Jaoyn nodded in understanding, and gently released Mahat, turning his focus to Saera. “Indeed, it's all right to be angry, Miss Saera. Sometimes it's even good to be angry, because it helps us fight against the bad things. But sometimes you get angry and there's no bad things around to fight, so you know what I do then?” he asked conspiratorially, drawing a suspicious yet curious headshake from the girl. “I fight a tree.”
Saera let out a stifled little giggle, and Jaoyn widened his eyes and waggled his ears in exaggerated emphasis. “It's true! Them barky sorts have to be taught a lesson, always lookin' down on us shorter folks. I go out and give 'em a proper beatdown, even though they try to fight back by puttin' all their splintery bits in my knuckles.” He offered her his hand, rife with the callouses and scars of millenia, a stark, massive contrast to her tiny, soft palms. “In fact, I think I spy an aspen gettin' all snobbish on the other side of the lake. Come help me show it what's what?”
The child nodded eagerly, getting to her feet and scrubbing the moisture from her eyes. Hand in hand, they headed off to fight the trees, Jaoyn shooting Mahat a soft, encouraging smile over his shoulder as they went.
Mahat couldn't help but smile in return, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them tight as she watched the two figures recede into the distance. “I do no' deserve tha' man...” she whispered wryly to her knees, her panic ebbing away as her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace—until it was sent spiking by a too-familiar voice in her head.
“Damn righ' ye don't.”
“Fuck off,” Mahat growled, shoulders slumping in exhaustion. She didn't need this too. Not tonight.
“Ye always need me. 'Specially t'night. Wha' th' fuck is ye thinkin'? Playin' houses like a damn schoolgirl? Ye know 'ow this story ends, 'ow it always ends.”
“It don't always 'ave t' end th' same.”
“Sure it does, an' ye know it. Ye's on'y lyin' ta y'self by pretendin' diff'rent.”
“Sometimes lies become th' truth when they's believed in hard enou',” Mahat murmured, weary but still defiant. “Ye weren' born wha' ye is. Ye made y'self—ye lied t' yerself abou' wha' ye was 'til it became true. I kin do th' same.”
There was a bark of cruel laughter in her mind. “Ye think ye kin lie yer way inta bein' a good person? Fool y'self inta bein' a lover, bein' a fuckin' mother? Y'stupider'n I thought. Tha' kinda shite's beyond us.”
“Beyond ye. But I en't ye.”
“Aye, so y'keep sayin'. But 's jes' another lie ye tell y'self, eh? Elsewise… why en't ye tried ta get rid o' me, if y'so sure I's summat other'n ye?”
“It en't poss'ble.”
“Horseshite. Ye en't tried. Ye know all manner o' fancy magic spooks an' mindfuckers, y'tellin' me ye don' think a single one o' 'em cou' do summat? Don' bother lyin', I know th' truth. Ye's scared. Ye know if ye lose me, ye lose y'self. An' th' damn irony is, ye's gonna lose y'self one day anyway. One day soon, when yer playhouse comes crashin' down around y'ears.”
Mahat bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood, her vision going red at the corners. “Shut y'fuckin' mouth.”
The other voice turned suddenly, absurdly, gentle and earnest. “'S th' both o' us t'gether, love, an' tha's all we'll e'er 'ave. Bes' accept tha', accept us, afore ye lose summat else y'held close an' then lose y'mind entirely. Ev'ryun else kin break. Ev'ryun else kin die. From th' greatest t' th' smallest...” A child's cry carried across the dark water of the lake, and Mahat bolted upright, every sense and instinct frozen in place by a bolt of perfect, horrifying fear.
It was a laugh, she realized a second later. She could see the two figures in the distance under the aspen tree. Jaoyn had punched the trunk and was miming a dramatically pained reaction, and Saera was cackling in delighted laughter, her tears and anger forgotten. Mahat dropped back down to the blanket and curled in on herself, adrenaline making her heart pound and her shoulders shake. The rush faded quickly, leaving her numb and empty, but when Jaoyn and Saera returned, she folded the latter swiftly in her arms and leaned back into the other's embrace.
The three of them cuddled together on the blanket again, Mahat in the center this time. Jaoyn kissed her neck and softly stroked her hair as she whispered an apology to Saera, who accepted with sleepy amiability, yawning and burrowing into her mother's side like a heat-seeking kitten. Fighting to crawl from beneath the shadow of her fear, Mahat found herself emerging into starlight, surrounded by love and comfort, suspended in a moment that was untouchable, inviolable by whispers, by lies, by secrets. It didn't matter who she was, or who she'd been. The past was an echo and the future a question; only the present, only that moment, was real.
Saera murmured a request for a song, a lullaby that had always been her favorite. Mahat's lips parted, voice hesitant and creaking with emotion at first, slowly building to something smooth and strong and sweet. Jaoyn knew the song, she'd sung it to him before, and his warm baritone voice came rolling in, supporting her and filling out the lower notes. Saera let out a happy sigh, radiating peace and contentment as she drifted off. Mahat soaked in that peace, drowning her fears and her senses, relishing it like the Light itself.
It was the longest night of the year, and she wasn't alone.
(( Thanks to Jao for letting me use our actual RP conversation, mildly edited and shuffled around a bit. Takes place in the evening of the same day as A Broken World. CW: warm fuzzies. ))
They stood together on the highest peak in Highmountain, looking up. Snow crunched and glistened beneath their feet, but above them loomed the huge, roiling mass of Argus, taking center stage in a star-strewn sky. The air was thin and cold, the night perfectly silent save for their clouding breath.
"Terrifyin', but--kinda beautiful too." Mahat stared in fascination at the planet for a long time, before turning to survey her companion's reaction. "Is ye all righ'?"
Jaoyn met her gaze, lifting his hand for a gentle scratch of the back of his head. "I am... alright... why do you ask? Am I worryin' ya?"
"Nay, I jes'--there's a fuckin' demonic planet in th' sky. Seems like a fair thing ta be no' all right abou'." She tried for a grin and managed only half of one.
Jaoyn offered a shrug, and a somewhat more successful wry grin. "I'm almost more worried about my impassivity to such a phenomenon." He turned his ivory gaze back skyward, "We keep killing world-endin' entities, old gods, heralds of the Titans... and never once did any of it slow us down." When he looked once more to his beloved, his expression had settled into a lopsided cocksure smile.
Mahat couldn't help but smile a little in response, moving over to take his hand. "Heh, y'gettin' all confident an' hopeful on me.” Her tone was full of gentle, rueful teasing. “Careful. If y'keep it up I migh' no' stay th' same bitter doomed soul y'fell in love wi'."
The man beside her gasped softly in mock affront. "I fell in love with a soul who gave me and the world so much. No matter what happens, that love will never fade." His tall, lean form tilted down to place a soft kiss atop her head.
She leaned her smaller frame into his, taking comfort in his presence as she raised her eye again to the maelstrom of felfire and shattered rock hovering in the sky. "Ye en't afraid, then?" she asked quietly. "There's been so many worlds afore ours they's taken... an' turned inta shite like tha'." Visions from the dark hours of the morning flashed through her mind—a planet the color of dust erupting into flame, you can never go home again—but then her love's voice was calling her back to the starlit mountaintop.
Jaoyn shook his head softly as he answered, "Over ten aeons ago we defeated them with naught but ingenuity, will, and the ability to come together as one. We did it again when they returned, and it was not by harnessing their power, or that of the shadows. Nor was it even the Light or the mana of life that saw us through to victory. It was us. The friends... the family..." His grip on her hand tightened, and his head fell close to hers like they were sharing a secret, "...the lovers. It was us who saw it through together, and we'll do so again. We'll make sure there will be a tomorrow that everyone will see."
Mahat was momentarily speechless, drowning in an abrupt wave of helpless adoration for the one at her side. When she could speak again, her throat was dry and tight. "Love, I... I 'ave a question."
One of his expressive ears lifted as his gaze dove deep into her own. "Yes, love?"
She studied his face intently, her lips parting in silence. And then the words began to tumble out in a fevered tide, passionate and sincere. "Bloody hell, ye make... th' fuckin' apocalypse seem like nothin' we can't handle. An' some'ow I--I b'lieve ye. Flamin' demon planet appears outta nowheres, all righ', no worries, mus' be Tuesday. I--" She looked down suddenly, bright violet color rising in her cheeks, but her words were no less earnest. "Ye's like no un else I's e'er known, Jaoyn. I love ev'ry minute we spend t'gether, an'... I's tired o' not bein' yers in ev'ry way poss'ble." She met his gaze once again, a blush now blazing across her cheekbones—but an inexorable determination, like a challenge, was burning in her eye. "So... wha' about it? Will y'marry me?"
Jaoyn was left stricken and aghast for roughly an eternity, every instant without an answer stretching all the way to the horizon and beyond. Mahat practically vibrated with thrumming tension as she waited. Then his ears began to dance as he mouthed something, nodding rapidly. Finally the elusive demon of speech was caught by the poor Kaldorei's tongue.
"Yes!" He exclaimed quietly as he bent to kiss her lips and whisk her body into his narrow arms. Clutching tightly onto her lithe form, he spun the two of them about. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, fiercely, hardly feeling the cold wind rushing by as they spun across the snows. When they finally broke the long, incandescent kiss, Jaoyn tipped his forehead down to rest against hers and whispered, "Yes... Yes... I--I... I do."
Mahat was smiling hugely, dizzy and drunk with affection. Her ears perked up and her eye brightened as he answered her again, his voice her most beloved sound. "Thank ye," she murmured breathlessly. "Thank ye so much... my love, my heart--" With a little laugh at the inadequacy of language, she dove back in, pressing her mouth to his in yet another ardent kiss. Her teeth caught his lower lip teasingly as she pulled away. "Y'wanna get off this mountaintop, fella?"
An uncontrolled moan escaped him during her nip. "Please." His arms tightened about her taut back. "But I am in no hurry love. After all, we have an eternity..." He beamed down at her, and his worn, scarred visage was her home.
"Aye," she whispered in return, twining her fingers in his hair. "En't it grand?”
TRUE END- Bittersweet ending. Some things go right, other things go wrong. Some sacrifices have to be made, but most people are happy in the end.
During the fight against the forces of the Old Gods, the leader of the Collective is lost to shadow. Eventually, the war is won, and Azeroth is as safe as it’s ever been. Mahat keeps working for the Collective, though without Masnira to lead them their vision and ambition shrink significantly. But they remain a tight-knit family of ne’er-do-wells, helping people who can’t help themselves, even when they need to get their hands dirty to do it.
Mahat’s half-human daughter, Saera, lives a long, healthy life, about twice as long as the average human, though unfortunately she can’t conceive children. By the time she dies (peacefully of old age, with her mother at her bedside singing to her), most of Mahat’s shorter-lived friends and colleagues have passed on as well. The Collective continues with a new generation of renegades and unlikely heroes.
Mahat passes the reins of leadership over and goes on one last world tour, revisiting old haunts and grave sites, saying goodbye to her elder sister Shanaris and the few others who remain. Then she and Jaoyn buy a ship that’s small enough for two to navigate, load it with supplies, and set out together to sail off the edge of the map. They never return.
Who in your OTP is the serial butt-slapper and who is constantly getting their beautiful butt slapped?
Neither of them are much into that.
Who wants to be immortal and who wants to die before they’re old?
Elves, man. Already immortal-ish. Neither of them planning on dying any time soon.
Who smokes and who pulls the cigarette from between their lips every time they try to light one?
‘Hat’s the only one who buys cigarettes, but they smoke together now and then.
Who always has cold hands and who is always warming them up for them?
Jaoyn always has cold everything, Mahat is the space heater in this equation.
Who plays candy crush in important meetings and who elbows them in the ribs to make them pay attention?
Both of them would pay attention.
Who can fall asleep anywhere (and does) and who has to put them to bed?
Jaoyn has had to carry Mahat home after she’s passed out snoozing on him on multiple occasions.
Who is the genius procrastinator who wings every test but still comes away with straight As, and who takes preparation and conscientious work very seriously?
Mahat’s more the wing-it-and-pray type, Jaoyn’s a bit more intentional and thoughtful about his plans. Both of them can flip back and forth, though.
Who takes their coffee black and who likes it with milk and two sugars, getting called a pussy by Person A?
Neither of them like sweets and neither of them would call each other that.
Who initially seems shady but turns out to be a cinnamon bun, and who initially seems like a cinnamon bun but turns out to be shady?
Mahat seems like a shady criminal scalawag until you realize she just CARES ABOUT YOU SO MUCH AND WANTS YOU TO BE HAPPY PLS FREND. Jaoyn seems like a sweet cuddly cinnamon roll until you realize he absolutely can and will murder your face with no fucks given if you hurt someone under his protection.
Who moans and talks with their mouth full whenever they eat good food, and who tells them to stfu but can’t help laughing?
Neither of them get too excited about eating, but I could see Jao talking with his mouth full and making a big production of it to make ’Hat laugh.
Who gives the bear hugs and who is always sidling up to them and snaking their arms around their waist?
‘Hat’s the snaky sidler for sure. Jao gives great bear hugs but always makes sure to telegraph his intent so ‘Hat isn’t caught off-guard by them. She’s prone to reacting stabbingly to unexpected entrapment.
Who still buys juice boxes and fruit snacks to put in their lunch?
I doubt either of them would do this, unless it was to give to children.
Who packs the other’s lunch and who repays them in sexual favours?
I imagine Jaoyn brings Mahat lunch sometimes when she’s chained to a desk at work, which she is ridiculously grateful for. Not least because there’s a convenient broom closet there she can drag him into for a “lunch break”.
Who leaves notes in the other’s lunch and who tells them they’re dumb (but secretly has a collection of every note Person A has ever written them)?
Neither of them are big on writing, but I imagine any caring note one wrote the other would be saved and treasured.
Who unconsciously holds their breath the first time they kiss, and who pulls back and says, “Breathe…”?
Jao’s the breath-holder, ‘Hat’s the one who becomes concerned for his safety should the make-outs continue.
Who gets arrested for a petty crime they committed by accident and who bails them out?
They’ve done this before! Mahat gets arrested (the crime was aaarguably petty but definitely not by accident) and Jaoyn bails her out.
Who grabs the other’s hand just as they’re getting out of bed and pulls them back under for cuddles?
Jao tends to get up earlier, but if ‘Hat’s awake she will absolutely lure him back with kisses and cuddles. How fiendish.
Who gets mad about something unrelated to Person B and punches the wall, and who patches it up and kisses it better?
This has also happened before. ‘Hat punches a wall and Jaoyn fixes her up.
Who has the plain black phone case and who ordered one with cat ears off ebay?
Mahat ordered both phone cases and gave the one with cat ears to Jao as a joke. “Love ye, kitten.”
Who likes to drive with the music blaring and who is too shy to sing along?
‘Hat blares the radio and sings along constantly, Jao gets self-conscious about his voice but whenever he does start to sing ‘Hat instantly turns the music down so she can listen to him with her full attention, beaming.
Who’s the fantastic kisser and who has the beautiful eyes?
They’re both pretty great kissers and both think the other has beautiful eyes (singular, in ‘Hat’s case).
Who has the sunshine smile and who has the seductive gaze?
Jaoyn has both. He’s a force of nature.
Who gets offended by the intensity of the other’s crush on a celebrity?
Hmm, Jao can get a bit offended when ‘Hat takes a strong interest in another person. To be fair though, she would absolutely feel the same way if there was someone else he was interested in, just hasn’t happened yet.
Who is embarrassed that they have to wear glasses sometimes and who wants them to wear them in bed?
Not glasses specifically, but there are definitely certain clothing items that Mahat feels silly and self-conscious wearing that Jaoyn absolutely goes crazy for in the bedroom.
Who cheats on the other then immediately begs for their forgiveness?
AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHNOPE. I literally cannot imagine either one of them cheating on the other for any reason but like, mind-control magic. They’re both so stupidly grateful for each other, and they’d both be talking through their problems or outside attractions long before things devolved into infidelity. They’re not perfect, but they trust each other and are trustworthy.
Who is the jealous one and asks why the other was being so flirty all night, and who is oblivious to their own charms?
Jaoyn is the definition of oblivious to his own charms, while ‘Hat is very aware of hers and manipulates them often. Neither would ask the other why they were flirting; Jao would know ‘Hat was doing it for her job, and ‘Hat would know Jaoyn had no idea he was being devastatingly attractive.
Who orders a milkshake with their food and who orders a soda?
Again, neither of them like sugar much.
Who runs their battery down to 1% and who feels the need to charge theirs at 80%?
Mahat would be running down her battery coooonstantly, but would make a point of charging it every night in case of work-related emergencies. Jao, on the other hand, would barely use his cellphone and often forget to charge it for days on end.
Who has the excellent singing voice and is always singing around the house (and for Person B), but has no interest in going professional?
Both are pretty decent singers, and I like to think they sing to each other often, whether it’s intentional and romantic or just silly nonsense while they wash dishes.
Who would rather be barefoot if the setting is appropriate, and who has the huge and spectacular shoe collection (possibly also socks)?
Mahat’s a bit of a clotheshorse when it comes to wardrobe, but she’d rather be barefoot when possible. Jaoyn’s been barefoot often in his life and prefers to wear shoes these days, especially the pair Mahat made for him herself.
Who takes their liquor on the rocks and who likes it neat?
Mahat drinks it straight, Jaoyn doesn’t drink it at all.
(( CW: domestic abuse, alcoholism, slurs against sex workers/women, dubious consent/sexual assault. I kinda triggered myself writing it, to be honest. Please don’t read if you’re not up for it, I really don’t want to hurt anyone with this. It’s here to be read if you want to delve into one of the sadder phases of ‘Hat’s life, and see how far she’s come since then. Endless thanks to Jaoyn’s player for the many wonderful hours of RP it took to get ‘Hat comfortable enough to open up about this, and for giving me permission to use our characters’ in-game dialogue in my writing. ))
Jaoyn's brow furrowed in concern, and he moved towards her—but he stopped short. "I am confused... I am not sure what you want from me. So... all I can do is let you have the control. And wait for when you wish to... be intimate, or touched. All I would ask is you know is that I still love you, and want you. But I am not going to push you for anythin'."
"I's... confused too, I's sorry, jes'... workin' it out as I go. I want ye. Fuckin' gods, do I want ye. But I still--" Mahat cut herself off in frustration, her hands balling into fists as she sought the words. "...sometimes ye touch me an' it en’t ye I feel. It's... th' past, th' loss o' control, th' desperation, th' fear an' th' shame... an' ye's ne'er made me feel any o' those things, I swear, but I--I still feel 'em…"
A couple decades ago, in Kalimdor.
“You stupid whore.”
Mahat crouched to pick up the shards of broken glass. The bottle had hit her in the face before dropping to shatter on the floor, and blood ran copiously from her nose over her mouth and chin. She pressed her face into her sleeve to try and stem the flow, while her free hand reached out, fingertips uncurling to pluck up the glinting shards and gather them into a fold of her skirt.
He wasn't finished with her, though.
A hand in her hair yanked her head back and dragged her upright. The broken glass she'd gathered spilled from her skirt to the ground, cutting her bare feet as she stumbled. He slammed her against the wall and everything went dizzy and tilted for a moment until her eyes could focus on his blurred silhouette. He was so tall. And strong. He'd always been stronger than her.
His muscular forearm pressed tight to her chest, pinning her in place when she wanted to fall. He released her hair to caress her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. It felt like a threat. He leaned in.
“You couldn't even be bothered to hide it from me, slut,” he hissed. His breath was hot and heavy with the stink of whiskey, though she knew hers was too. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been sober. Drinking made everything hurt less. “I saw his footprints in the yard… who is it, hm? Some errand boy from town?” He sneered, anger twisting his features into monstrosity, eyes blazing red-amber. She'd once thought he had kind eyes.
“Love, I—there's been no un but ye, I swear!” She started to reach out, but he grabbed her wrist and slammed it to the wall above her head.
“Liar!” he roared, inches from her face, his spittle flecking her cheeks. He dropped his forearm, and for a second she could breathe, but then he was wrapping his fingers around her throat and dragging her slender frame up the wall, forcing her to dance on her tiptoes to avoid hanging by her neck. He was so strong… a Druid of the Claw, blessed with the form of a bear, and even his elven body carried that raw, seething physical power. “I saw the tracks. Tell me who... he... is!” His last few syllables were punctuated by tightening pressure on Mahat's windpipe.
“I s-swear,” she gasped, spots swimming at the edges of her vision, “There's no un… I m-made th' prints, it—rained earlier an' I went t' th' garden—borrowed y'boots— “
He released her wrist with a grunt, and her hands locked onto his pinning arm, pulling and struggling to keep her weight off her neck. “I'll know the truth of it soon enough, beloved.” He barely seemed to notice her frantic grip, leaning in with nostrils flaring as he sniffed her. “I don't smell him on your skin… in your breath...” His free hand hiked up her skirt, broad palm tracing a gentle path over the curves of her bare haunches. “Did you let him finish inside you…?” His voice was less booming wrath and more soft cruelty now, a predator playing with his food.
Mahat felt sick, but she didn't have the air for a denial. All she could manage was to hang on to him and try not to suffocate. His hand clamped down on her sex, his fingers worming their way inside her. She was dry and tight at first, but he knew just how to touch her… she'd shown him, all those months ago when they first married, when he was kind, when his jealousy was just a little joke between them, when they drank together and laughed under the stars. When his hands on her meant pleasure, comfort, and safety, instead of this… shame.
His fingers curled inside her, massaging the front of her inner walls, and she groaned, tipping her head back. Her body was responding to him outside her control, growing slick and quivering as the tension built. She closed her eyes so she couldn't see his face, but she could still hear his quiet, cold amusement.
“That's my girl… you saved yourself for me after all… if you had already come I wouldn't be able to wreck you this quickly… this wouldn't feel so damn good.” At the last word his thumb pressed into the side of her clitoris and began to rub in quick, firm circles. She shuddered violently, her hips bucking towards him as a swift climax swelled and crashed over her. A silent scream tore out, devolving into keening, animal moans as he loosened his grip on her throat. Every part of her trembled, her inner walls clenching wildly around his intruding fingers and soaking them, until he withdrew them and forced them into her mouth. She knew what he expected, and quickly set to work running her tongue over his digits, cleaning them off. She could taste the bitterness of her arousal, and the metallic salt-tang of the blood from her nose that still coated half her face.
Finally he removed his fingers and released her bruised throat. She would have fallen then, but he caught her, enfolding her slight, quaking frame in his arms. He stroked her hair gently and she wanted to laugh until she cried and cry until her eyes bled, but she didn't. She stayed near him, and let him think her shivers of revulsion were just leftover from the orgasm.
Soon enough he pressed her back against the wall, drawing his knuckle up under her chin to raise it. When he spoke his voice was like she remembered, strong but gentle— almost vulnerable. “I don't like hurting you, Mahat… you drive me mad, you know that? You're so damn beautiful… sometimes I'm afraid that you don't need me like I need you. I take care of you, protect you, provide for you—you'd be nothing without me, a penniless bar-wench with no name, no history, no family—and yet, despite all of that, I'm the one who's helpless before you. That's the power you have over me… I wish you would realize how dangerous you are. I wish you wouldn't use your beauty to hurt me, make me act this way...” He paused, brushing a strand of her silver hair behind her ear, his apologetic tone fading and his lips twisting into an ironic smirk. “But you like me this way, don't you? You like it when I'm rough with you, when I make you remember who you belong to.”
Mahat could barely breathe again, though nothing but her own fear and guilt was choking her. Did she like this… pain and humiliation? It was hard to deny when the evidence of her enjoyment was still trickling down the inside of her thigh. Did she… want this? She swallowed the dry lump in her throat and lowered her gaze. “I's sorry, love...” she murmured, not quite sure what she was apologizing for but feeling desperate to do so anyway. “I—ne'er meant ta hurt ye. Ye's right, ye do—take care o' me, give me wha' I need.” Something far down inside her, some spark of life and rage, was howling at the defeat in her voice, the slack acceptance in her posture. But she'd grown too used to burying that spark, smothering it in booze and blank passivity. To do otherwise was unbearable.
He smiled, and her heart lightened in a little stutter of relief. “That's my girl...” he said again, leaning in to place a tender, possessive kiss on her forehead. She could feel the hard bulge beneath his trousers digging into her thigh. “Come to bed,” he said, drawing back to survey her form. “But clean yourself up first,” he added calmly as he turned to go. “You look fucking disgusting.”
Mahat glanced down at herself after he left the room. Blood had stopped pouring from her nose, but not before it had soaked the front of her shirt nearly to the chest. On her skin, though, it was drying dark and beginning to flake. She stared to move to find water, but the sharp pain shooting up from her feet reminded her of the glass she'd sliced them on. It surrounded her in every direction now; her husband had been wearing thick boots and hadn't noticed the shards he was scattering and grinding into the floor. No way out but through. Mahat dropped to her knees and started again to pick up the broken pieces.
“He wasn' bad at first. I--loved 'im, an' I thought 'e loved me. Mebbe in 'is own... twisted way, 'e did. But somethin' changed in him an' I ne'er knew why... I thought--mebbe I did somethin' wrong tha' made 'im change. Mebbe 's my fault f' bein' too... pathetic, or weak, or stupid... fer no’ fightin’, no’ screamin’… mebbe I deserved it.”
Jaoyn shook his head fiercely, "Don't you say that! You may not have been the woman you are today, but you sure as fucking hell didn't deserve it, and the only thing you deserve right fucking now is for these shadows to cease stalkin' you!" He turned from the ledge of the balcony they stood at, facing her fully, his gaze intent upon her face, "You are the light of my night sky and I will always be there for you. Even if I need to hold the heavens themselves aloft, I am here for you, and nothing... NOTHING will change that." He held his hand out for her, and she took it. "These hands will never strike you in malice. These arms will never force you against your will..." His other hand moved to touch his chest, "This heart... is more yours than it has ever been mine. I know I can't control what fragments of the past, foul memories, or ghostly touches might assail you. All I can tell you is no matter what... this heart is yours."
Mahat grabbed onto his shirt and pulled in close, inhaling his scent and reveling in his touch. Her voice went so quiet and wavering it was barely recognizable as her own. "...there's so many damn ghosts in m' head, love... it, it hurts... please, please stay wi' me..."
Jaoyn's arm wrapped around her back as he began to gently stroke her hair. From him, the gesture brought her only comfort and tender awe. "I am never going anywhere, my love... nothing will stop me from being at your side. And I will be your strength and pillar, and light through the darkness. Reminding you constantly how amazing and wonderful, strong and proud you really are." His head tipped forward, resting his forehead to hers, "And should ever the moment come you can't go any further, I will carry you, and protect you from any horror in this world or beyond."
“There is no exquisite beauty... without some strangeness in the proportion.” --Edgar Allan Poe, quoting Francis Bacon
Mahat and Jaoyn commission from @sketchygoat! (wonderful artist and very fast too; you should definitely grab a spot in their commissions when they open again)
"Oi. So. When like. Yeh an yeh elfie boy gonna get smart and come help out the shop with mo' than just bein' storefront eye candy, huh?"
Mahat grins at Wes and sets her hands on her hips. “Y’gotta admit, we’s damn fine eye-candy. Dunno wha’ ye lot’d do if’n we stopped drawin’ th’ customers in wi’ our dashin’ good looks–go broke wivvin th’ week, mos’ like.” She drops her arms with a shrug. “F’ serious though, if y’need us, we’s there, Jaoyn an’ I. Yer lot is good sorts an’ we like ye. En’t got th’ time nor inclination fer full-time employment, en’t in m’ nature, but y’need contract work done, we’s yer extremely charmin’ elves.” The corner of her mouth tugs upwards into a smirk as she surveys the worgen man. “An’ it don’t always gotta be business either. Ye an’ I shou’ get a drink sometime, eh?”
