#mykhael

[eldritchdiplomacy]

Real footage of Thoran at Druid School as a middleschooler:

Malfurion: *drones*

Thoran: *tongue between his teef, scribbling*

Malf: ....youngling, are you taking notes.

Thoran: ....yah.

Malf: ...may I see them?

Thoran: ....yah. S'you.

Malf: ......;_;

[eldritchdiplomacy]

WS!Myk is, obv, bae.

[eldritchdiplomacy]

The Wayward One

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“WAKE UP!” Her hollering penetrates his brain like a spike. The young man starts awake, looking around wildly for a moment before groaning, long and low, pressing his palms against his eyes until he sees stars.

“I'M UUUUP!” Mykhael shouts back at the shut door of his flat in Stormwind. “One BLOODY fookin' minute, Lea!” He pushes himself up from the sparse sheets that had been, last night, a bit dusty. Along with the floor, the mostly-empty shelves...every surface in the place, really. Only the scattered empty bottles are new, as is the pile of clothes he'd tossed on the floor last night. The Mage yanks on his trousers, barely remembering to do up the closures before tugging open the door.

“...So, yer back in town, 'en!” Leanan's greeting is overly cheery. Myk blinks at her, bleary in the morning sunshine falling bright on the Mage District, “Only found out 'cause apparently, y'dropped yer son at the cabin LAST. NIGHT.” She pokes a finger at his chest, and Myk can only stagger back a step.

“...Hey t'you too, sis,” Is all he mumbles back, reaching out, wrapping a lanky arm around her shoulders. His nickname for his sorta-adopted-cousins'-wife has her softening, just slightly, hugging him back.

“Yer a mess,” She murmurs, fondly, stepping back, her expression concerned, “...Coulda left 'im with me? Where's Thoran even been, mmm? While you've been livin' like this up in Dalaran?” Her gaze darts around the interior, which has been locked up for oh, nine months now. Myk can only shake his head, looking down.

“...Gotta nanny up there. She aint travel though, so...” He clears his throat, hard, “...Sorry, Lea. Bein' back here...she ah,” He hears himself choke on a short laugh, “She left some knickers in th' drawers...”

“...M'sorry,” Lea says softly. Right before her face hardens, “...But buck th' hell up. Yer a Pa, I aint dead no more, Tristen's back, an' Arwain's still about somewhere so...” But he doesn't hear much after that, looking up, brightening.

“Tris.....Tris is back? He's ALIVE?!”

“I sent y'like four letters!” Lea rolls her eyes, but it's with a fond smirk now, “Bet he sent y'some too. He's livin' like a right hobo, but...omph!” She laughs as he lifts her off her feet, hugging her close.

“Tristen's alive!” He laughs, giving her a spin, then dropping her on her feet, “.....Fook it, gonna need a bath. Gonna need t'clean up, get Thoran t'gether, just.....” His heart is dropping at the same time it rises. What would his good and noble clan leader think of him now? But Lea's expression was changing, hesitant, taking his hand.

“.....Gotta tell y'some stuff, first....”

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[eldritchdiplomacy]

The right thing to do

((Sappy, simple, yes. But even so, while writing the easy derpy explanation for what happened to Leanan while I was on hiatus? I really kinda fell in love with Taka >.> If only there was better non-Belf rp Hordeside, alas.))

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There was nothing there, now. Floating debris, bloody water, parts of bodies she did not want to look at.

They were Human, the enemy, yes. But they'd been people, innocents among them. They'd done nothing to her, as individuals. Their bodies did nothing for Taka, wading through the marshes, her shaggy head dipped low. Yes, there were supplies to be had from Theramore's destruction. That didn't mean she had to look long on it.

A cry cut through the dead stillness, and Taka's head lifted, her eyes narrowing, snorting at the air. Another cry, dual cries, vying for her attention in the mists. Following the sound through the deep waters, the thick reeds, Taka drew in a sharp breath when she found their source.

Two human children, little more than babes, a year old at most, wailing into the marshes, their little bodies curled around their mother.

For a moment Taka thought her dead, until air stirred by her nostrils.

The two man-children were scraped, bruised, had been exposed to the elements. Still they bellowed, clung to their mother, looked up at Taka with all the expectation of any babies. Warmth, food, shelter, comfort. The Tauren woman took pause, stilling, staring.

Little man-lings, their little-mother dying in front of her.

What to do?

Of course, the choice was easy, easier than she thought it'd be. Crooning softly, she plucked up the twin boys and tucked them into her satchels, easy burdens, little and soft. The tan, dark-haired mother, she hefted onto her shoulder, for lack of better transport.

Her path home was covered swiftly, eyes skittish and darting all over until she returned to her tents, covering the Mother carefully with woven blankets and skins, applying a poultice to her brow and a prayer to her nerves, drawing upon what gifts of the earth she could, as the human slept.

When Taka's husband, Droon, returned from his own scavenging that night, he wasn't as surprised as one might think to find two man-lings rolling around on the carpet of his tent, their mother recovering in the corner. He only looked to his wife, asking once, “Did anyone see?”

When she shook her head in the negative, a smile graced his face. He set his burden on the ground, and he took the smaller of the two toddlers upon his knee.

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She would remain unconscious for almost a year.

The boys grew, and they grew fast. Once big enough to tumble outside of the tent Taka made sure they had friends, if only inside her own family. Her sister brought her children to play with them, to keep them busy and learning and weary at the end of the day, and so no word reached Mulgore of the little man-lings.

The true nature of the mother came out in her nightmares, though, when she turned under the full moon, during a terror that shook her in her deep slumber. Taka held her as she changed, tears coming to the Tauren woman's eyes...would the boys have it, the affliction, the touch of the wolf? Some Orcs she knew spoke of it in reverence, but seeing the change in person, the shifting bones, the tearing sinew, Taka could feel her sleeping charge's pain even as she tried to heal it.

A full turn of the seasons came and went, war and new allies and drought and life. No one was the wiser, of who dwelt long in Taka and Droon's tents.

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One spring day, a Man came seeking the ruins of Theramore, as many had. Most kept a wide berth of Taka and Droon's home, though, simply hurrying on their way to either pay respects or find what they might, but not this human. Dressed in wares fit for the desert-like plains, he approached their home without fear (later, she would find out, he had simply been seeking water).

Unready for this, Taka barely had time to usher the now-two-year-olds inside, and still he saw, stopping, blinking. Taka saw the reason for his fearlessness over his shoulder, a half-orc child babbling happily at a butterfly.

“..Hoi!” He called, and Taka took pause, warily, a spell on her tongue as he went on in halted Orcish, “Those children, human?”

“...Worgen,” She spoke the unfamiliar word clearly, and the young, handsome (for a human) fellow looked hard at them, at their twin faces, at the clothes Taka had made for them from the wares in their mother's bag. They looked back at him plainly, all wide eyes and moppy, thick auburn hair.

“...Parents?” He gulped, and Taka waited a long moment, sizing him up...he was smaller than her, but sinewy, muscled. And yet...he spoke Orcish, there was a half-breed Orc child on his back, still happily babbling away. She dipped her large head, and motioned him inside her tent.

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It was another week, before Leanan McAlister awoke. Perhaps it was her brother-in-law speaking a familiar language about familiar places, or maybe her sons finally speaking in common around her. Regardless, awoke she did, and after only some confusion, wrapped her arms tight around the woman who'd kept her, and the boys, safe.

Tauren, yes. But a woman, a druid, one who'd always wished to be a mother but had never been able to, for all her gift, for all her hoping. “Won't forget this,” She whispered into her fur, in the halting Orcish Myk had taught her. “Thank you.”

“Come visit, show me them,” Taka said simply, smiling, before kissing both of her rowdy, rough little boys.

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