Is there anyone that they would willingly kill? (For Del!)
"When I was of very few summers and living in the city of Ala Mhigo, I was often set upon by older children because Maman and I were poor, and it is often the way of things that those of means are mean to those without them. I could do little, because I was little, and so I dreamed of becoming a hero without peer and laying waste to my foes. And so I went to the Fists of Rhalgr, for the older children grew older and crueler in their actions, and while Maman was a treasured servant of the manor, we could be cast out on a moments notice.”
“It was some years later that those older children, now men and women with swords and mail and wicked smiles came to the monks and demanded a show of competence as they felt the goods and sundries of Ala Mhigo were too taxing to their overflowing purse. I alone was willing to provide that demonstration for I remembered their ministrations when I was a boy of very few summers, and they remembered as well. And so I demonstrated with fists and feet and their swords and their mail were broken. Their wicked smiles turned to dismay. Their surviving retinue fled, and the King’s men returned with a demand of fealty laced with the promise of riches and glory.”
“That is how the Fists of Rhalgr became a standing army for Gyr Abania, and that is how I was no longer a monk of the order.”
There aren’t many, honestly. He’s quite happy with where he is in life. He can take care of himself, has enough money coming in from odd merc jobs that he can afford some nice stuff. He has a beautiful, vibrant, deviously fun woman in Ara that he gets to come home to.
But on that last note..he knows there are things she still won’t trust him with. He knows there are things that her best friend, Kiro, knows that she has yet to tell him. Likely never -will- tell him (probably for the best), and though he’s come to accept that, he still wishes she could.
@unabashedrebel | @jagged-little-pieces for mentions
send me a ‘ ♡ ’ and i’ll talk about what type of relationship i could see our muses having
This one...could go quite a few different ways. Bemerren’s had his eye on Naivaria for a long while now, though he’d never say anything of the sort to Arandoros about it. He’s made a pass at the woman before, and though she denied him (as he expected), he felt just the faintest hint of something there. There’s an attraction, he thinks, and if Arandoros wasn’t in the picture? Hooo -boy- would he get her into some trouble.But Aran is, and so Bem knows Nai’s never going to go for anything. He isn’t the sort to force his will upon a woman, but if she were ever tempted, he’d press his advantage.
She’d had such a hard time getting to sleep the night before and slept so fitfully that Arandoros had simply elected to let her sleep in—at least that was how it must have happened, because when she woke with tears streaming down her face and a gasp caught in a throat gone thick with emotion it was already past noon. The harsh light of day streamed in through the pair of large windows in their bedroom. Eyelids already wanted to close again to shut out the offending burn… but then, that was only a reaction to the brightness of the room. The real problem lay in bed with her, coursing through her veins like wildfire, causing muscles to painfully contract and the air to finally rush out of her lungs.
She curled in as tightly as she could, as if she might escape the pain that wracked her entire form if only she could make herself small enough. For a while she just stayed where she was, her eyes screwed shut, trying to concentrate hard enough to shut it out again. Of course, it wouldn’t work… it never did when it was this bad. Aran wasn’t here to help her, either. Face turned to press into her pillow and muffle a choking sob. It was bad enough that she’d had a nightmare that had left her cold and shaking and feeling so absolutely alone, but now she’d woken up to an attack. It had been a long time since she’d been woken by the pain from her sleep like this. She could have been better by now. She should have been better. But she’d failed in that, just like she’d failed to get up the courage to actually sit down and talk with people at Cakes the other night. What was wrong with her?
A half hour passed—maybe more, maybe less, she didn’t know—and nothing changed. She was just too tired and emotionally raw to build the wall back up right then.
Slowly, stiffly, she straightened out limbs that didn’t want to work, and wrangled her body into some form of loose cooperation, coaxing herself out of bed and directly onto the floor. The flare of pain that she might have normally felt upon banging her knee was hardly a drop in the bucket compared to what she was experiencing now. Her jaw clenched, and the sort of half-grunt, half-growl that one might hear from a determined soldier buzzed through her chest and throat as she labored to her feet. And half-tripped, half-shambled to the door. At first, she tried to look for her focus, but when her brain reminded her that it was back in Dalaran her search turned instead to a mana potion. She kept them in the kitchen near the wine… but when she managed to drag herself there, all of the potion bottles were empty.
Her vision was blurring now with tears that came forth, her body’s natural reaction to the pain. As she half-leaned, half sagged against the counter, only partially capable of rational thought, one did occur to her. The potion bottles were empty, but the wine bottles were not. Fumbling in the cupboard for a cup—not a wine glass, she both couldn’t reach that high and didn’t trust herself with the good glasses anyway—she all but slammed it onto the counter in front of her and reached for an open bottle of Dalaran White. She nearly spilled it all over the countertop in her hurried effort to pull the wine stopper and then pour it into the glass. She just needed a glass. A glass would dull all of the nerves that were firing and maybe then her muscles wouldn’t all be cramping. A glass was all she needed. She slid downward like a ragdoll, the back of her head tracing a drawer’s handle on the way down. She’d never gulped a glass of wine so fast. She must have chugged it—she just remembered drinking and then it was suddenly gone—and she closed her eyes and waited.
More time passed and nothing changed. Her head screamed at her as she tried to block out the pain again, and her muscles were too stiff and sore to get her legs beneath her. She was lucky enough that she left the bottle open on the counter because all she had to do was reach up and grab it to refill her glass. Well, that went about as well as she could expect—she only spilled a little on the floor as she swung it down from the countertop, and soon enough her glass was full again. She just needed a little more this time to really take the edge off so she could shove the wall up again. Down the hatch went the second glass, and she set it aside.
That began working within minutes, but not the way she’d hoped. Oh, her muscles began to loosen and the pain dulled just enough that when she finally struggled back to her feet she felt confident that she could probably walk without having to lean against a wall or fearing her knees might suddenly give way… but now the room was shifting around her, and it was making her incredibly dizzy. It dawned on her then that this much booze on an empty stomach had been a terrible idea, especially when one glass was usually her limit. Her stomach churned unhappily, and without really thinking about it too much she’d made her way to the bathroom. Dizziness gave way to nausea, and nausea to at least a glass full of wine flushed down the toilet. As she sat on the bathroom floor, shaking wondering if she was going to throw up again, she tilted her head back and tried to shut everything out. If she could just rest, she could summon up the strength to fight it back. She opened her eyes. If she could sleep…
Slowly she got up, rinsed out her mouth, and reached for the door to the medicine cabinet, staring into it when it was opened. There was a bottle in there that was mostly empty. She knew what was in it. There were only two pills left, and she was going to need them if she was going to put herself to sleep. Had she been a little more cognizant of the danger she might put herself in just then, she wouldn’t have done it; but as it was, her mind was focused solely on one thing: escaping the pain. She emptied the bottle into her hand, and then tossed them into her mouth and swallowed them dry. She knew she was going to have to lay down, and she wasn’t so nauseous now, but she stayed there an extra minute or two to make doubly sure they weren’t going to come back up.
She moved when the pain finally began to creep away and a much more comfortable fuzz embraced her mind. Her limbs became clumsier, the pill bottle left in the sink, and she shuffled back to bed on slowing feet, relieved when the blackness finally came. Her eyes drifted closed, and finally her muscles blissfully slackened. There was only one problem. She hadn’t completely gotten into bed, and instead of a soft pillow and warm blankets, she ended up on the floor with one of Aran’s t-shirts and the flush from the alcohol to keep her warm.
But she wasn’t hurting anymore.
[[ @arandoros ]]
The sunrise just barely broke over the horizon as a small wrapped package was placed on her doorstep with a letter slid inside the ribbon taped down so it wouldn’t be lost in transit addressed to Naivaria. When she opened it, she’d find a box of truffles inside and a leader that read,
“Dear Naivaria,
Chocolates don’t make up for all the time I’ve missed but I hope you’ve been well, my dear little sister, and that your lover hasn’t caused you too much grief while I’ve been gone. There are so many questions I have for you since the last time we spoke many moons ago. How is the shop? How is the search for the cure to your sickness? I’m afraid on that particular endeavor I’ve had little luck and hope you’ve fared better in the search than I have. My latest trip is coming to a close in the coming weeks and I will see you soon. In the meantime if you wish to write me, I’ve found a stable address for the time being and look forward to your letters. The address is scribbled below belonging to someone out Arathi Highlands.
