Prompt #13 – Oct. 22nd, 2014: Your character knows she is going to be murdered in less than 24 hours. How does she know this, and how is she so sure? What would she do if the day went by…uneventfully?
(( Another silly moment from Xeula's past - a continuation of Entry #11: Feathered creatures creeping in the night. Mikkruutov is Mikkaelos' father. ))
The drape of Mikkruutov's arm around Xeula's shoulders felt more like a restraint than it did a circle of comfort and safety. He meant well, she knew, but his intentions did not make the feathery swarm just outside their door disperse. In fact, in the last hour or so that Xeula had lay awake, holding as still as she could, more of these creatures had come. They continued to titter darkly, and as more time passed, she began to recognize a pattern. They had words — she knew it. Two titters combined with a gravely chirrup. A clucking whir bleeding into five rapid fire chirps. The rise and fall of music-like tone.
Fear prickled along her scalp then shivered from the base of her neck to tail tip, fine hair raising in its wake. With some effort, the sleep-deprived woman freed herself from her husbands slumbering hold, slipped to the edge of the bed, and rose, tip-hoofing with all the grace of a dancer towards the windows. Anxiety urged her to turn, to flee, but she pushed past the instinct, doing her damnedest not to imagine the feeling of a hundred waxy-soft feather tips slithering along the back of her neck — a precursor to the frenzied bite of a blood-starved swarm fighting for their fill. She squared her shoulders against another shiver down her spine.
Quick thinking had her lower herself into the chair nearest to, but not directly beneath, a window. It would be best to remain just out of sight. Her hands laid to rest over the tabletop before her, a hands reach away from her staff. They were coming and she would be ready.
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Xeula awoke with a start, jerking her head up from the tabletop, unaware of the frizzy lengths of silvery hair that had caught around one of her horns. Sunlight streamed in from the window throwing a spotlight onto the gently steaming plate that someone had set before her. A number of small bird-like roasts glistened in center of the plate, a mouthwatering aroma drifting toward her.
“I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone this morning,” Mikkruutov appeared behind her, gently untangling the mass of hair from around her horn. “Bird number one: breakfast. Bird number two: sleep. I doubt that your feathered friends will be much of a bother to you now.” She could hear the self-satisfied smile in his tone.
Entry #11: Feathered creatures creeping in the night
Prompt #12 – Oct. 21st, 2014: While on vacation, your character is bothered by the noises of unfamiliar animals. It sounds more like language each night, and the conversations aren’t about anything pleasant.
(( A silly moment from Xeula's past. Mikkruutov is Mikkaelos' father. ))
"Xeula," her name sounded more like a groggy rumble of a groan than it did actual spoken language. A subdued creak issued from the bed as Mikkruutov rolled from his back to his side. One hand knuckled in his temple to prop up his head as the other groped sluggishly in the dark. Silken peaks and valleys slipped beneath his touch, the sheets beside him a lustrous, but empty, landscape. Where was she? His fingers knocked against a familiar shape at the far edge of the bed: the warm curl of a tail resting against the curve of a thigh. "Xeula," he murmured more clearly this time.
Despite the pressure of sleep-heavy confusion, he listened. A moment passed in silence, and then a series of quick, high titters. Dull recollection tugged at his mind. It took a moment for him to reach around the haze of sleep to catch hold of it, but when he did a long sigh blew out of his lungs. "Xeula," drowsy exasperation shaped his tone. "I've told you again and again that they are nothing more than animals." His hand returned to him from across the expanse of silky sheets to rub along the base of his forehead crest.
"We do not know that," she whispered ominously. "This is a new planet. We have only been here for a number of months. As far as we know, they could be a race of begins with just as much intelligence as the draenei." A deep, breathy laugh shook the bed from behind her, drawing Xeula's serious gaze. "Why will you not take this more seriously?"
"My dear," Mikkruutov's hand slid away from his face to give his wife's tail an affectionate tug. "I would be willing to bet that if those little creatures were covered in anything other than feathers you would hardly notice them at all."
The silver glow of Xeula's eyes narrowed dangerously, "this has nothing to do with that."
Another laugh shook the bed, this one loud enough to inspire silence from the little feathered creatures just outside their temporary home. "Like fel it doesn't. Xeula — you're absolutely terrified of feathery creatures. I know it. And though you refuse to admit it, for whatever reason, you know it."
"Afraid? Of creatures with feathers?" The glow of her eyes disappeared as she turned her head away. "That's ridiculous."
Mikkruutov scooted close enough to hook one of his thick arms around Xeula's waist. Chuckling, he pulled her back down into bed. "I agree."
Mikkaelos asks out a girl for the first time... with a little help from his father
(( Response to a Childhood Ask Writing Prompt: #8 Parental Embarrassment, requested by anchoriteyuulis - for Mikkaelos, aka Droemikk. ))
"No! Nononono dad — no!" It had only taken Droemikk a moment to realize what his father intended to do. Unfortunately for him that was more than enough time for the bulky draenei to cover half the distance between where he had sat with his son and the group of adolescent girls near the flower bed. "Dad!" Droemikk hissed across the courtyard. Of course, Mikkruutov did not stop. Instead he peered at his son from over his shoulder, arched his dark brows and jerked his head towards the girls. The shape of his smile was just as much a comfortable welcome as it was a challenge. Well? Are you coming?
A light growl fluttered through Droemikk's chest. Worlds of embarrassment awaited him if he ran after his father. He could already see it: the girls looking from Mikkruutov to Droemikk, confused, giddy, ready to laugh their tails off when they realized that the mountainous vindicator was, yes really, asking one of them, Saraenun, to attend the Yu'laa celebration with his son... the very same son who, in an effort to show off and catch her attention just hours before, had tried to snatch a meal out of a Fey Dragon's feeding trough only to get his hoof caught in the fence. He dangled upside down, bright blue and covered in slop as three of the caretakers shouted furiously at him. All hope of winning Saraenun's interest turned to ash beneath the heat of his chagrin. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to disappear.
Which, he could do now if he wanted to. But one thought about his father asking a girl out on his behalf without him even being present sent a jolt of icy panic from the pit of his stomach to the tip of his tail. Whatever amount of embarrassment standing before the girls would bring wouldn't compare to the embarrassment that was sure to come if he wasn't there at all.
He could feel the broad, warm hand of his father rest lightly over his shoulder. Which, he promptly shrugged off. His father's answering breath of a laugh only fedDroemikk's ire. "Come on," he pleaded quietly, glaring up into the face that was so much like his own, chin dimple and all. "Just forget it! All of it! None of it really happened — I made it all up! I don't really like Saraenun. And I wasn't even planning on going to Yu'laa." He could already feel his face burning, a feeling that only increased with each step closer to Saraenun and her friends. He chanced a glance at them.
Light! Were all of her friends there with her?
"Relax, Droemikk," the weight of Mikruutov's hand on Droemikk's shoulder had returned, but only briefly this time. After an affectionate shake, it lifted to wave at the girls. All of whom went abruptly silent, their exuberant smiles slipping into careful sheaths of guarded curiosity. As predicted, each set of eyes jumped from Mikkruutov to Droemikk. Recognition spread like wildfire, sparking savage mirth in each expression in its wake.
Somehow, the burn in Droemikk's cheeks increased... Was it too late to disappear?
"Greetings, young ladies," Mikkruutov began, drawing all eyes up to himself. "May we have a word with Saraenun?"
Silence thickened the air, a brief omen of the eruption of giggles that was quick to follow. A tall, fair skinned girl with long, fine hair and hornlettes that swept back over her ears stepped forward. If the stiffness of her step, square set of her shoulders, and tightness of her jaw wasn't enough of an indication of her embarrassment, then the royal flush on her face and neck certainly was. "Yes, sir?" She asked respectfully as she peered up at the vindicator.
"Have you met my son, Droemikk?"
If Saraenun hadn't glanced over at him, Droemikk would have buried his face in his hands. Then, almost immediately, he wish he had. At least she wouldn't have seen the unholy glow of his blush.
"We all know Droemikk," her simple answer caused another eruption of laughter behind her, though she seemed far from amused.
Yep. Disappearing would have been the better choice.
"Ah, wonderful! It seems there was a minor misunderstanding earlier today. Droemikk wished to ask you something but found himself dangling from a fence instead."
He couldn't take it anymore. Droemikk's hands slid over his face. Another cacophony of laughter burst from Saraenun's gaggle of friends.
"Ask me?" Saraenun repeated meekly, confused.
A soft, but firm, nudge to the back pressed Droemikk forward. In order to keep from falling forward, he had to take a step closer to the girl that made him want to disappear. "I, uh," he spared a second to shoot a furious look up at the smooth, confident face of his father. "Well," his hand rubbed anxiously at the back of his neck as his eyes fell to the girl before him. It was difficult to hear his own voice over the panicked buzzing in his ears. "Well, yeah — you see, I wanted to ask you to... to come with me to Yu'laa... But I know that's not an optio—" his backpedal of self-doubt was interrupted by another nudge to the back, a much lighter one this time but no less firm. "I mean —" the burn of embarrassment had long since spread from cheeks to full face and was now making its way down his neck.
Knowing that his father would give him fel for not following the advice he had been offered, Droemikk summoned as much confidence as he could muster, thin as it was, and pressed on, "I would like to take you with me to Yu'laa as... as a date — if you want to."
The gaggle of friends had grown eerily quiet now, surely straining to hear what Saraenun's reply would be. Fortunately for Droemikk, they didn't have to wait long. "You could have just asked." A smile threatened to warm her expression. "Um... yes. I'll go with you." And then the smile broke through with a fresh spread of bright blue blush.
"You will?" Droemikk gaped. The tittering gaggle of friends burst into knowing giggles.
"Yes." Finally, an awkward girlish laugh of her own broke free. Without another word she spun on a hoof and escaped to the safety of her silly friends, leaving Droemikk to grin like an idiot besides his father.
"Well, that wasn't so hard was it?" Mikkruutov clapped his son on the back and steered him towards the path home. "Pulling stunts to impress girls isn't a bad thing, really. We all do it," a knowing laugh rumbled through his broad chest. "But it'll do you no good if you're too afraid to actually talk to the girls that you're trying to impress."
The dopey grin of victory remained plastered over Droemikk's adolescent face, "I'm not afraid to talk to girls," he meant to sound angry but the emotion was nowhere to be found.
Mikkruutov barked a hearty laugh, "son, you have no idea how to talk to girls. The fact that you resorted to a cheap trick first instead of directly asking her acts as proof." A proud kind of affection urged him to ruffle Droemikk's silvery hair. "But don't you worry about that. There's plenty of time to learn. And I'll always be around to let you know if you're being a jerk."
