#safwriting

[safrona-shadowsun]

Rest For the Restless

{ A story that coincides with the quest "Rest For the Restless" in WoW: Midnight. Thank you for reading if you do.}

The prospect of uniting forces long undone by centuries of grudges and war was never an easy goal, but in times of desperation, some lee way had to be not just prepared, but carved with gritted teeth that could be veiled as a smile. It was a strategy both Shadowsun sisters agreed on, mostly. An agreeability that leant to their ability to work together as both professional leads and in the field, where more aggressive maneuvers were needed.

“You see?” the Analyst of Empyrean Imports tilted her glasses down for her elder sister as they walked toward the exit of Silvermoon's gates. What were once glowering stares from the Silvermoon's Guard had gradually become tense nods and greetings over the months as all beat back sporadic void invasions. 

Wenne’s voice lowered to a murmur as Safrona joined her stride down the exiting stairs into Eversong. “They still stare, but that one back there tried a smile, bless their little heart. It took some time but I think we all paved the road with an awful lot of trusted intention.” 

“Or we could have drowned the Sunwell in a few thousand gallons of very good wine,” Safrona sighed out as she followed her sister to the next high request. “Everybody would’ve left their issues at the gates and we'd nip the Void Inavading in the bud.”

Her sister laughed flatly, “I'm endlessly surprised that you weren't born to Suramar and starved into one of those glorious Nightborne, every day. They'd love your ‘drown it in wine’ solution to everything. But you know as well as I do that wine doesn’t always solve every problem. Sometimes drinking makes people worse, Saf.”

“Ah yes, I am ever your responsible Courier.” There was a mock headtilt of salute given from said logistical lead, a sarcastically ingratiating turn in her words for her sister. “And I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your hero. Let’s go get you Lady Vereesa’s autograph.”

Wenne frowned deeply, but rose her hand toward Safrona with clawed fingers, playfully threatening. “Do not make me turn you into a cat, Courier.”

—--------

There was a mild disappointment in Wenne to receive no reception from the Ranger General of the Silver Covenant, herself. Several small parcels awaited them instead, and a contract of requests for immediate delivery. A fitting task for a Courier outfit, though somewhat morbid - deliveries to next of kin, 20 some years too late.

“Well,” Safrona unrolled the official request handed over by a now retreating High Elf contact that had met them. “It's not so much a signature as a crest. But it is something, yes?” The Courier treated such a task as any other delivery to be assigned, machine focused as she absorbed the details of the belongings and those addresses meant to inherit them. A fluid movement of fingers called a herd of imps to assist (the less pyromaniac sort, for as Wenne could tell, she hoped).

“A few of these are in Silvermoon themselves. Old House names, businesses…” Safrona pitched a glance toward Wenne in that moment. Not only younger and fresher of face with her delicate little spectacles, the Void had less of a dramatic affect on her sister's features. Safrona had wondered if her sister’s joining of the Ren’dorei was simply an aesthetic choice in their sibling reunion from time to time, but it was not a line of questioning she felt too eager to follow. “You’re the more… fitting of us to deliver to the more patriotic of Silvermoon, should we say? You take the city addresses and I handle the more long range?”

Wennefer sighed, adjusting her spectacles. Her fingers jutted toward the contracted lockboxes, and some mere sacks containing literal bonemeal. “You’re not bothered by any of this? Not at all ?” 

Safrona only stared down at the gesturing hands, then at the obviously annoyed expression on the mage’s face. “I think it’s all fairly written out for us. Easy delivery…?”

“No, Saf…come on now! Read over the contract again. What these are? It’s the lost, from damn Dalaran!”

Safrona squinted a moment, then blinked at the contract another, softened only by a mild confusion and the many questions that filled her mind. “You mean last year…?”

“No, no.” Wennefer shook her head, black hair flying loose from her delicate adornments. “And may those so recently lost by that day find their way but Saaaf! These are the remains of those during the Culling. When that bitch Proudmoore and the Covenant did what they did!” A dissent was afire in the mage that lit her eyes, an angry dragon’s fire that never was quite put out in the Dawnsinger line. The arcanist had separated herself from the name, but she could never so fully cut herself from the House that birthed her, and the pride they bred in her veins. “You thought I wanted Vereesa Windrunner’s signature? Sure, sister - I wanted her to stand here, sign off these belongings she’s kept for how long now? And then apologize!”

It was Safrona’s time to shake her head with quiet admonishing, eyes moving back to the contract to read it’s first lines. “The apology is in writing, for the families it is meant for. As well as the promise of a plaque in memory of who was lost. It will be enough for th–”

“But it’s not enough! Boxes and some ink on paper and bone dust is not enough. I thought you’d understand more than anyone!” A vindictiveness had arisen in Wennefer, words echoing after her own, even as tears streaked down from the edges of her eyes. “She should have been here, breathing prayers into their bones, begging for forgiveness! She should know that cold, evil pain in her heart over and over like I do! Shattering again and again and again–”

“Tch, Wenne, calm yourself,” Safrona’s voice lowered as she wrenched her hands forward, focusing in more than a simple anger, outrage. It was twofold. Her hands clawed inward, pulling on the spirit that had so very subtly possessed her sister. A transference like water from the dead’s belongings, the warlock realized, bridged easily by her sister’s already fluctuating emotions. “Your words are being twisted.” 

Wenne gasped deeply as the cold pit of anger was dragged out of what felt to be her spine, so deeply it had twined itself with her physicality, her bottled anguish. The mage retaliated as was habit, quick to aid her sister in containing the sudden threat.

The ray of frost penetrated ephemeral essence, cutting the tortured wailing of the spirit into silence as it dissipated, no longer able to hold form. The supernatural threat had faded for the moment, but even as a slow chirp returned to the Eversong canopy, Wenne still carried a haunted look, staring with unblinking disbelief at her sister. The wailing spirit, forced into aperating, was dragged into an awaiting crystal prison at the warlock’s hands.

The devouring of a doomed soul was a simple impetus of ending the threat for the warlock and gleaning some strain of knowledge in those moments it flooded her. But in other eyes such an act was a heresy.

“We…we were asked to put them to rest, Saf," the mage argued, even still having fallen victim to the spirit. Her compassion ran deep as her outrage. "Not, just…take them. What are you thinking?”

Safrona avoided her sister's boggling, invasive stare. She stared only at the space the spirit once haunted. Somehow it followed the guilt of its murderer Vereesa to the homeland. The icy spikes embedded through the cavity of its chest had been a persistent torment in its state.  A brutal strike of pain, followed by an eternity of hopeless numbness, the ambitions of a life stopped cold.

“Instinct,” Safrona commented then just beneath an iced over breath, nearly sounding introspective with her turn of phrasing. “It is what I do.”

—--

That night, far from her sister’s questions and a bottle of wine later, Safrona gave herself over to a bath, alone, deep into the late hours. Sleep did not arrive so easily, the spirit’s last memory of cold outrage encircling her thoughts fresh, until she could find a place for it too within the mind’s labyrinth of those taken before it.

She dried, took to another ritual of hair brushing and oiling at an elegant bedroom vanity, letting the long hair drape fetchingly to frame her face before committing it to the usual smooth braid. She forced her eyes on the flesh in the mirror, the silvery trail of scarring that rounded her chest. Impaled by an icy javelin with a violent conviction. She was sure the heart had been half ripped from its organic tethers. It had been a nasty way to go. But the flesh and organ had survived by ritualistic means. A gift by greedy hands and hungry will. A taboo truth that Safrona Shadowsun had only confessed to a very select few, not even to the sister that cherished the skin she wore. She doubted the little mage would ever come to hear that confession. The Dawnsinger flame was strong in that one, and so often blinded by its own light when roused. A light that could only understand itself.

Safrona redressed slowly, watching her reflection all the while. There had been a time when she could not face the sight in mirrors, when she required a demon's hands to dress her in part. A time of guilt that sloughed away with time, with connection, with each request for the Courier to fulfill a need. She had purpose, invested friends who cared for her, a tightly bound love.

The name sacrificed for her becoming had to be put to rest. She had thought a renaming would eventually disassociate herself with the one who died to Proudmore's wrath those years ago, but like the ghost she had to claim for the Harvest today, they lingered in their own way. 

She knew nothing so deep about ghosts other than weaponization in the Art, but Safrona considered that Wennefer Dawnsinger was even more haunted by the past than she was.

It was a problem that was not so easily - or cleanly- solved.

[safrona-shadowsun]

How do they feel about the treatment of the Ren'dorei in Silvermoon?

"Irritating, but expected," the Courier spoke with a steadying breath, keeping with the profession stance expected of her. "I don't think any of us expected to be welcomed out in your shiny new streets with open arms. But the consistent aggression in those beginning weeks was a nice breeding pool for all sorts of spite and a deterrent for work where it mattered."

Safrona filled her chest with breath and exhaled succintly, her eyes lingering on the flowing of a nearby golden fountain. "But the glaring threats have minimized now that we've all got our eyes on the right targets, yes? Your golden guard still watch me, but they nod and some of them even are sweet enough to salute. But there is always a distance. A...static that won't ever fully be calmed."

A little smile tugged to the corner of her lips as she fixed her gaze on the Nethermancer. "A Courier can be efficient and forgiving. And Demonology is not so subtle, you know - I have imps phasing into the open at times with missives I forget. And most days I find it amusing to be asked to keep them away from children... But there are other days where the damned Voidstorm feels more at 'home' than Quel'thalas. I am sure some of us feel that on a more consistent basis than I do."

{ @nixalegos - thank you for an excellent question I have had Saf stewing on too long.}

[safrona-shadowsun]

TMIT - What is her favorite indulgent treat / hobby?

Some years ago, Safrona would have pigeonholed social drinking to be her favorite casual indulgence, and while this is mostly still true, it has evolved to be more than simply taking a seat and calling for drinks with company.

It's become one-on-one 'games of confession' she's come to treasure now when she can put the mantle of business away. From anonymous notes submitted to her booth on bar napkins, to the offering of a secret or two from a Confessor, there is certain satisfaction in holding a claim on the unspoken and the little bit of themselves a party gives her. Under those stipulations of a 'game', Saf also indulges a bit in offering something of herself, if a visitor is keen on presenting the right question.

{ @dasacht - thank you! }

[safrona-shadowsun]

CHAMPION - If they could switch their skillset to something else what would it be? Is there a different weapon or power they wish they could wield? 

There is nothing so fulfilling as summoning demons and pressing into secrets that others will not for Safrona - the fel and demonic arts, and even the later subsuming of the void define her, she feels, and she would feel empty committing herself to another skill or talent.

If anything, Safrona has a mild curiosity for the physical talents of the Illidari. She admires in particular how they can cleave soul fragments from a victim to consume and heal themselves. She has managed to set aside her pride to fall into conversation with more of them, especially as they turn to the Void to further evolve their own power.

{ @the-man-with-the-mohawk - thank you! }

[safrona-shadowsun]

MANA - What do their powers and/or magic look like? Describe colours, smells, physical sensations, aesthetics etc.

We shall lift the veil for just a moment from the benign Courier, and feature the Black Harvester that is focused beneath.

Many of Safrona's invocations do not have a color, but they thrive on feeling, smell, mentality, sound. Her curseweaving is the collection of agonized ghosts fed into the flesh and soul, eroding willpower, inducing fear, or agony. A victim hears the hellish symphony before they feel it seep in to stitch to their soul, and they are only thankful for the passing of the cacophony, or the finality of death. Her hands are instruments of entropy of the most profane this way.

Safrona has been far more reliant and interested in Demonology of late, and her callings are as void-adjacent as the aura that takes her in the most intense moments. Violet portals opening to the Great Dark itself and beckoning its denizens from beyond, the demonic breaking past the veil of reality to strike with abandon, flame burning too hot to be natural - it is an aesthetic of chaos defined. A calculated chaos.

{ @zalandrissa-highvale - thank you! }

[safrona-shadowsun]

What is your go to way of letting someone know you are interested or your favorite pick up line? (For any that want to answer)

"I've been known to be coy and even inviting with my words, but it is mostly from a professional standpoint." Safrona chuckles inwardly, releasing it on a breath. "The wine goes to our head some when we sell it, yes? But serious interest? I don't think words speak so well as the intensity of a draw for me. And there are very few that have kept that sort of interest."

{ @cythion - thank you! }

[safrona-shadowsun]

TMIT - What's something she secretly regrets, and hopes no one ever learns about?

{ Safrona holds many secrets, but chief among them is the truth of her origins - to put it simply she stole her way into another's life. And while she has mostly put to rest her guilt for that theft, consequences have 'arisen' lately that she can't simply ignore or avoid anymore. Still, she keeps the truth well hidden and curated by a wealth of what she has learned and acted by through nearly two decades, performing her role to perfection.

She will learn that not all are so easily deceived, however. She fears ruination in many ways should the truth be revealed, and an inevitable end to the business that was built as the Courier.}

{ @anraheth-art - thank you! }

[safrona-shadowsun]

[Sexy Sunday]: Has she ever used magic in the bedroom?

{ Absolutely. Safrona is not so easily descriptive about her practices as a warlock in general; it's doubly so when considering acts in the bedroom, as demonstrated here. The mun however is glad to explain where she is not ;)

Below the line for not so pretty truths:

In her earlier days, sexuality was often used as a weapon for Safrona or at the very least a device to easily pry what she really wanted from a body: life essence, fragments of soul to feed her profane hunger. In this, magic has been nearly instinctual for her when it comes to a partner, desire tied indiscriminately to the hunger for soul, or what we may call 'anima' now. 'Partners' were disposable prey chosen or even targets she was tasked to be rid of, and it was not beyond her to give a damned lover to a demon when she herself retrieved what she wanted.

Now while that way of life has subsided and she has created more boundaries with her demons, Safrona's darker instincts still dominate in the bedroom, and it has been a challenge to let herself be vulnerable enough to simply enjoy the pure physicality of sex. She has a devoted partner now however that understands, serves and can outlast her most profane of hungers, and she trusts him fully to explore what they both need moment by moment. Spell experimentation that focus on the weave of pain-induced pleasure is never off the table, as well as rituals of reverse life draining, and demonic augmentation - her Soulsinger has his own brand of shadow-based ability he compliments her with in their wicked 'dances'.

But all in all, sometimes it is the sudden, unplanned passions that spill out unexpectedly that can be equally as exciting or satisfying, where Safrona can't grasp at even the idea of a spell before they ravage each other. Sometimes magic is just in the sound and pitch of a voice as it makes her blood rush, and the hands and lips that know her too well.

{ @saltsparkle - ty! Soft references to @thefirstperished }