#sav ledrassi

[safrona-shadowsun]

💭💭💭 For Saviéran :)

For every 💭 I receive, I will write one thought my Muse has had about yours.

“Mister Ledrassi, I like you, but let’s lessen up on the vague threats in Dalaran, yes? They are not ALL Theramore era. Some of them are my clients. We can meet somewhere else, if we have to.” 

<Unspoken thoughts>

“A little too scarily insightful but...I don’t know. Could be someone to fall down the rabbit hole of conversation with. Certainly seems like someone that’s seen a bit of everything.”

“All that red, and not one for the drink. I’m going to have to find something to change his mind with...”

{ @silvertonguedaggermaw }

[safrona-shadowsun]

"You take confessions like val'kyr take souls. Where does that anima go, I wonder?" ~Saviéran

A slow, collected blink was the initial reply as the Necrosurgeon pried. "I don't follow, Mr. Ledrassi." Safrona expressed a silent, inward chuckle, pleasant smile quirking with her own inquiry. "Do you mean the confessions, the val'kyr, or souls?" Clearly, the term anima was foreign to the Courier.

{ @silvertonguedaggermaw }

[safrona-shadowsun]

"The most annoying part of this job is getting the stains out of your favourite shirt, though thankfully the same magic that can rend flesh and bone does a good job with that, too" Saviéran wiped the back of his hand across his face, failing utterly to remove any of the arterial spray. Instead, he now had blood smeared across his cheek, a fact that didn't seem to inconvenience him all that much.

“...I can..only...very much, imagine,” the Courier replied, trying very much not to let her eyes fall to the dissected mass the Necrosurgeon toiled over. It was a moment the Void Courier questioned herself silently on the company she ended up keeping, or the clients that ended up on her contact list. On the same side of the coin of disturbance, there was a morose curiosity for the dark study Savieran was amidst, some morbid fascination she could not escape. And well, the man did wear his scarlets well.

Still, Safrona adjusted her gloves instinctually at the mess he’d made, curling her fingers outward as she stretched the threads of one reality to let an empty space of the Void bleed through. A simple looking crate was pulled from the unconventional spatial storage, a delivery made as promised. It hadn’t been an especially suspicious order, as the Courier wouldn’t have agreed to deliver it in that event, but there was a certain wariness now in the importer as she awaited his signature and dismissal, wondering what she was getting herself into.

{ @silvertonguedaggermaw }

[safrona-shadowsun]

"I need more wine? That's a particularly unique perspective." ~Sav

“Yes,” the Courier affirmed without a doubt, glancing up a moment from her datapad to the pale face of the Necrosurgeon, and unceremoniously dropping her gaze back down to its glowing screen. “I hope you had your chance on the New Year at least? Tried something new for the first time? You do only live once, Mister Ledrassi.” A mumble of consideration slipped out of her quickly: “well most of us do.” A sigh, and she played up her smile as she gave the half-elf her full attention.

 “Of course, I may be a little biased.” The smile turned to a playful drift across the Void Elf’s lips, tone to match. “Wine is a portion of my livelihood. I may be predisposed to say such things.”

{ @silvertonguedaggermaw }

[safrona-shadowsun]

"Some people in all their high minded impracticality often consider things with a past laden by blood and shadows to be irreversibly tainted; that once something has been used to harm, it should be cast aside, never to be considered for more constructive uses. I call these people cowards - clinging so tightly to their precious ideological purity that they lose sight of pragmatic reality. A tool is a tool, never inherently good nor evil; and only the hows and whys of its use can inform one as to whether the actions taken were just or kind. To refuse aid because of the shadows it came from is to suffer needlessly for shallow principles." ~Saviéran

The little smile coiled to the sculpt of Safrona’s merlot lips, her eyes lighting on the Half-Elf with their knowing glint. “Now, that’s a good book’s worth of a complaint you have tonight, Sav,” A favorite label was poured for Ledrassi to take part of in exchange for the lengthy confession. “I take it you had yourself a little scuffle with someone not too thrilled with your way?”

{ @silvertonguedaggermaw }

[gravekeeper-anna]

Project

Why...?

It was the only question she was still asking as the two beyond the glass discussed her arrangement for resurrection. They were muffled voices, as if talking over her glass grave.

(Is a question to make more questions, Keeper) -- the remnant ghostling replied to her meekly.

Why do they want me back?

(Does the Keeper not want to be back?)

Blind, floating, it was a dark miracle that she shared visual sight through the remnant phantom at all. But her ears picked up the rumblings well enough. The human D'Mort talked to her like a person she was only a husk of, the smug one snapped to her like a faulty program that needed tuning, and the Necromancer regarded himself as a friend of the Gravekeeper.

...I was only another body that's died too many times. Replaceble.

(Flesh is replaceable. Soul is not.)

She found some bitter amusement in this. I have no soul, little spirit.

(You have our souls. All your lost. All your nameless. We need you.)

I do... her mind's voice came kinder, but sorrowful in her singular haunt. And what will become of me when you are gone, and at peace, and I am still here, this machine without its ghosts?

(You return here because of a reason, Keeper. Maybe you Keep more than you think you do. Do you not remember? Lord D'Mort knows more than any other. You are one of a part, remember? If one of you cannot rest...)

Then neither can the other...

(So you must keep going then. Do as you do. Be as you be. Until the very end. Perhaps a Keeper will be kind to you too, and help you remember all of who you were and are, on your last day.)

Tell them then. Tell them I must Keep. Ask them to make me a body that will last. A machine, if they must. A monster if they must. I am purpose, not a thing to be idolized. Tell them I must go all places to find my lost, and bring them home. The deepest oceans. The driest desserts, the most war-torn of lands. Tell them I must be formidable, and I must outlast kingdoms, cities, like a ruin that cannot be undone.

If I will Keep, then I will be eternal as the Val'kyr themselves.

{ Gravekeep’s personal monologue during ongoing RP collaboration with @maraxxes @nixalegos, @silvertonguedaggermaw, @duraxxor and @sanguinesorceress }

[safrona-shadowsun]

"A quaint sentiment, though so very limited. The Shadowlands is indeed what you make of it, but not in such a crude and blanket manner. It's a land of memory, not of speculation - and a person's self-reflections are mirrored by its nature. Clarity can be a blessing or a curse - what you might find about yourself in such a place can enlighten or sow doubt. And it's why it's *doubly* important to break the convictions of a zealot." ~because that last answer was Savbait rofl

{A response to this, I believe}

Safrona offered up the typical brandy the half-elf seemed fond of  as he entered the curtained booth. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve passed through the Shadowlands enough times to call it a second home,” she chuckled dryly, or, even reluctantly, eyes lifting away as she evaded the subject of what she found there in herself, and followed the path of his seeming witch hunt against zealots. “Most of the overly religious are blinded by their own path being the ‘right’ one, condemning every other. Then again, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found some demonic force hiding in human skin, puppeteering some ‘righteous’ cause.” Safrona took her mouthful of brandy from her own glass, letting it hang from her fingertips casually. “Hard to see anything righteous anything anymore, when you’ve seen enough to ruin it all.”

{ @silvertonguedaggermaw }

[safrona-shadowsun]

"With all these confessions, you must be putting the Light out of business. It doesn't help that the company here's better than in a church, and so's the wine." ~Sav

A nod preluded a rarer, warmer smile from Safrona, glad to be appreciated. “There will always be Cathedrals, lovely boy, but not all find comfort in the words of a priest, I know. My confessions are a simpler kind, and I’m not trying to cleanse anyone of their sins. Little’s required but a thirst here...” Her void-touched gaze provided a small aura of differing color in the red shadow of the curtained booth as she gave its arching fabric a considering gaze.

“On the same token though, I’ve been weighing the thought of opening a lounge or bar of my own. The Kirin Tor’s Council’s no doubt going to go back to political drive behind their business since Khadgar retreated, and I don’t want to be at the Ledgermaine Lounge taking people’s confessions when they might start claiming right to THAT too, along with more incurred fees just to have my booth here...”

“I’ve no idea where I’d have such a place built right now, but I have a name.” Safrona smirked into the announcement. “Whiskey on the Grave.”

{ @silvertonguedaggermaw }