I deserve praise for doing chores when Im having a very bad no good awful rotten day like this morning and last night.
I was so mad at myself for going to bed so late and waking up so late but then I did the dishes and shaved my arms and took my meds aaannnddd took my meds.
note: Cool, so people encouraged me to write this self-indulgent thing about one of my WoW RP characters even though only @taibhsearachd and @storyinmypocket know her, so here it is. Keep in mind that we play fast and loose with canon sometimes, and also that because our RP is for us and us alone, we have no compunctions whatsoever about making all our characters SUPER DUPER MARY SUE SPECIAL when we want to, because it’s goddamn FUN.
So. Canon compliance? Only if it makes us happy. ;)
~~~~~~~~~
Hana is dead.
She is sure of that, even if she's not sure about what actually happened. Her memories of the time since Elisande's deal with the Legion are fuzzy at best, non-existent at worst, and she doesn't particularly feel like prodding at them, trying to break through the disconnect mind control causes.
She remembers orders to protect Elisande. The glow of the Nightwell behind her, the sharp pain of a blade she (for once, grateful for Elisande's actions) can't quite remember the intensity of, the ground falling out beneath her, the rush of wind and the taste of mana in the air, then...
Nothing.
Then everything.
Or, well, it feels like everything, for just a moment, like arcwine intensified by a factor of a million, and instead of being fed, being enveloped by it. Like the mana is becoming her, that she's becoming it, that everything it powers she is capable of, despite only knowing the most basic magics every Shal'dorei child learns.
And then it's gone, and there's an emptiness - she can still feel the thrum of magic and mana stronger than she could before, but as she opens her eyes she realizes she's floating, formless and invisible, in the room she'd died in. Or, well, under, technically, but that's not important. Elisande's body lays on the ground, bloody and still, a few other bodies of her fellow defenders scattered and being checked over by what she can only assume are the rear guard of the forces who attacked them.
If she could breathe, she'd gasp, as she tries to figure out how to move, desperately scanning the bodies for--
<<Aure!>> She can't tell if the thought makes noise, or a ripple in magic, or anything - all she knows is that if she had a mouth, she'd be screaming. Aure is crumpled to the ground, terrifyingly near to the unguarded ledge she stumbled off of (is that her blood just there? Don't think about it, don't think about it...), eyes closed, an arrow in their shoulder and blood on their face, and she's suddenly there next to them as soon as she wants to be.
Being a ghost is terrifying and she's never felt so helpless even when she couldn't control her own body or desires, because Aure is there and they're breathing so shallowly, she can feel the mana still humming in them and see the faint shift of their chest, but it's fading, it's fading, and the rearguard hasn't noticed them yet, or maybe doesn't care?
<<Aure, Aure please hold on.>> She's dead, she's invisible, she can't even comfort Aure as the fade. <<Aure don't go, don't go!>> Aure lets out a soft sound, between a sigh and a moan, and Hana doesn't know if it had anything to do with her, but it's so quiet, and it would take a miracle for the rearguard to even--
"We've got one alive!" comes a call in Common, and Hana doesn't think yet about how she understands that even though translation magic shouldn't affect her any longer. One of the rearguard, a dwarf with a long blonde braid and heavy plate armor, races over, almost sliding to a stop on her knees next to the unconscious shal'dorei, her hands already glowing with gold light, and Aure's chest starts rising with stronger breathe. Hana feels a ripple of relief pass through her like a sigh, and she finds herself drifting down through the floor as the dwarf smoothes Aure's hair back, murmuring something inaudible, and then Hana's fallen out of the room, drifting down into the pool of the Nightwell, somehow exhausted.
<<It's not fair I can still be tired when I'm dead,>> she thinks to herself.
