Jul 24
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To answer the question yes I'd love to have them as my parents just tell them no sneaking up on me because I'm autistic so I will freak out if they sneak up on me -from Sofia
Emily: Of course, honey! Whatever helps makes you feel better around us!
Alastor; Well, there goes my weekend plans.
how characters navigate family drama as subplot
Avoids picking sides at dinners Makes excuses to leave gatherings Keeps secrets between family members Mediates fights during holidays Hides relationship from relatives Deals with parental disappointment daily Creates buffer between arguing siblings Maintains diplomatic group texts Dodges nosy family questions Balances divided family events Protects younger ones from drama Carries emotional family baggage Plans careful seating arrangements Manages multiple family opinions Navigates cultural expectations
three words and a name
A simple dinner for the employees, had taken them Elsewhere. The place with fountains made out of teeth and bone, water-- that was murky with blood and spit. The Leftover wanted, and that was all the explanation she could get.
Whatever it was-- a god, a being old, it accepted gifts of unwanted things. Of spit, and hair, and blood. An offering from each of those that had come along had been all it had taken to free them from the place, as it was said ‘between here and there.’
On the outside, back Here and not There, or anywhere between-- Eilithe felt the emptiness. Her heart pulled one way, while her mind, her eyes drifted in another.
Once more, like she’d told Velerodra; She was shredded pieces of paper. And Eilithe wished that she could follow the monkette’s advice, ‘try to ignore the final string that draws you back’. She had been offered ‘forever’-- not one thousand more ‘right nows’. And yet.
Love was the least of Eilithe’s problems, she knew the following to be true: The Leftover had, abducted them from Stormwind. The Sleeper had probably helped. The Sleeper had failed to awaken the Herald. The Herald could be anyone, and she wished it to be anyone else but who it appeared to be. Her son.
More pressing still, was the matter of her eternal soul for how could she fight such forces without her full power. First promised to the Harbinger, then after the Loa’s alleged death-- to the Crossroads, Saakes, Lord of Deals. Since the Harbinger’s release, she hadn’t seen color and every moment that her magic flared was one that caused the two Gods to pull her apart. The list of things that Eilithe Duskbringer had avoided doing was astronomical. It began with a letter, addressed to Dead Sun. And it would be found the morning of July the 8th, 37 ADP:
Staff of Dead Sun, Friends, It is with great regret and pain that I must temporarily step down from my position as Arbiter. Obligations call me far from our shores, and it would not be just for me to leave our boarders unattended.
In my absence, all matters should be left to the Sun Speaker Council. Of which, a majority vote should be taken as the weight my own words would hold. Furthermore, I will leave matters to be attended to with the Purveyor Reveria Shadowsun. I estimate my return to be timely, in the mean time, please take care of yourselves.
Ya’Til-Anath, Eilithe Duskbringer
Whether or not the words were true didn’t matter-- on paper, they looked good enough. A copy of this was sent to each of her employees, save for the ones that would know the truth of the matter. The next letter was addressed for no one.
I haven’t forgotten and I won’t forget. Thank you for always understanding. I don’t deserve it.
Ya’Til-Anath, Ei’lithene
The next, she started, several times-- then scrapped it to go for an easier recipient:
Velerodra, I think I would have done much better if I were more like mist. Please don’t worry yourself-- I’m going to handle things that can no longer be put off. When I return, I think I will feel much better.
While I’m gone, find Quel’Vuran. I want to believe that people can be saved-- the way you do, Vel. It’s probably too late for the warlock-- but not for Svetloba. I love you dearly, Eilithe
PS Help Reveria to be patient-- be the steady had that quells her emotions. You’re both capable of leading-- but together you’re all the more a force to reckon with. PPS Tell Seraanna that my grandmother will be by to speak with her PPPS Rhemi has my vote, tell Reveria too.
She circled back to the letter she couldn’t write then decided, pointedly, that she simply wouldn’t write it. The next went to her, now ironically named, heralds, even Malady-- who had been unofficially promoted.
Don’t worry about me and report Reveria-- I’ll be back before you can finish another couple dossiers.
-Eilithe
The last was for Reveria.
Falore, I know you’re probably mad at me-- and if you knew all of what was in my heart right now, you’d probably choke me yourself. I need you to know, that for all your faults you are what I wish I could be. Even if they overwhelm you, your emotions are something to be harnessed and used as an asset.
My greatest failure as your teacher, was not being able to show you how.
You’ll see in my other letter that this is about business-- and it is. I’ve been lying to you, and I think you already know that I’m sorry for doing it. My eyes are robbed of color, and something tells me that if I ignore this much longer I’ll find myself blind altogether.
Kurel is back-- and were anything but stupid, I would not feel the way I do now. I am far more selfish than any of you give me credit-- and if I had to pinpoint a breaking point it would be his return.
It’s like giving your heart over to a creature whose too stupid, or in this case too abused to know what to do with it. And I think I’m foolish to think there is anything more than pain and a business partnership to be had there.
I realize you now how an incredible amount of weight on your shoulders-- but you’re not alone. Lean on Velerodra, on No’Vindere. Be firm that you are capable in my absence because you are. Temper your emotions, don’t quell them as I have tried to force you.
The last thing is the matter of the Orb-- understand that it would be a risk, but one of which I believe you capable. Go to my house, get in the box-- you’ll know which one. It will open for your touch.
If you go without me-- know that I am there with you, even in the darkest of moments. Guard that orb as I have.
I never told you how happy I am that you met my brother. When the time comes, I hope you take our name alongside yours.
Remember that I love you, Eilithe
Eilithe sealed every envelope and stuffed them into her pack. On her person was mostly weapons, enough food and water to get herself to familiar territory. All her keepsakes-- save for the necklace that each of her children wore were abandoned. Bracelets and rings, even her earrings were left. Each child got a kiss on the head, but it was Threshad who was awake when she entered the room.
”You’re leaving..” He said, looking at all the packs.
”I have to.”
”What about the littler ones...what about me?” He said, taking a step toward her.
”I’m not leaving for long, Dianoara will be here and you can go see Feril as much as you want. It won’t be long. I promise,” she answered firmly-- though the promise was an uncertain one.
”That is what father said,” his ears laid back and the boy bit back tears.
Eilithe took the teen in her arms and hugged him tightly, he was her height now. “I am not your father-- I am going to find a way to fix myself, to right my power, and when I have enough of it. I am going to fix you.” She put her head to her son’s and the boy clung to her.
”Ya’Til-Anath, Min’da.” ”Ya’Til-Anath, my son.” Each letter was dropped off in the night, and Eilithe left for the jungle. For what she knew. At the last possible moment, Shal’Khan’s growl rumbled in the brush behind her. Eilithe turned, and the massive black saber gargled out a protest at his master’s leaving. “I’ll be back-- go back to your mate, Shal’Khan.” He growled again, walking up to bump her side with his head. “You might be gone for some time-- won’t you miss Vaesha?” The cat brushed along her body, rumbling with a purr. He would not be swayed-- and Eilithe would not have to face the jungle alone.
[ @revthepunchbear @velerodra-valesinger @deadsunharbor @ferilclawmane @sylirae @kurel-andiel @mirthful-malady @silver-by-the-sea @longveil @wallwoop @theshalthera @raylendaerthe @cleansedbymoonlight ]
Just like any sub plot, cultivating a romantic side plot adds depth and emotional appeal to your story. As long as you pace it properly! Here's a way to break down the steps of growth between two characters and build your own romantic roadmap.
For help with your romantic side plots, using the video game Harvest Moon as a model! :)
No God
"Your Loa's dead. Your contrac' is finished. You want help, then ask someone for i'. You want to figure ou' a way, then figure i' out. The longer you wallow an' sulk, the weaker you ge'... An' the desert doesn' do weak, Eilithe."
The desert cared. The desert loved. But it didn’t do weak- and neither did the jungle.
She had spent the better part of the morning fixing the garden with Kurel, only to be left with a warning. Or rather a reminder, and it was one she needed. A kick in the ass- to make her fight.
The trip wouldn’t take more than an hour there and back and she packed light- enough water for the trip, food for her persistent hunger. Trolls were less in population in the main city, many chose isolation just into the jungle. Many worked in the city, as Enforcers, dock hands, or on the farms- returning to the village at night to be among their own of the night. There was one single Troll that had Eilithe’s interest.
Ath’aste had come to Eilithe in a visit to Stranglethorn, reluctantly seeking asylum from her Skullsplitter kin with a troll man she called her lover. She was a Priestess, more specifically a Witch Doctor with vision which some merely described as beyond.
It was mid-day when she arrived in the village, navigating through the barricades around the cluster of huts, and passed the few that were left in the village to tend to the children. Ath’aste and Taz’Jin’s hut was towards the back with its own little garden outside. A brood of troll children, stacked in age played just outside- picking off tomatoes and eating them right off the vine. In Zandali Eilithe cooed at them and they flocked to hug her legs.
“Mama’s inside!” the oldest said, “She say she knew you was comin’.”
Of course she did.
Inside the tent was simple- fur seating surrounding a fire pit and two closed off portions on either side of the main room leading to, presumably, bedrooms. But the troll she sought was seated at the head of the room, relaxing on a throne of pillows, pregnant and stitching up a toy doll that’d lost an arm.
“Ath’aste, It has been so--”
“Ah, ah,” she said waving a hand, “Don’ go wastin’ neitha’ of our time. Ya come ‘ere fa a reason. so speak it.”
Eilithe came around to sit on her knees before the woman and she bowed her head. “The Loa I made contract with is..”
“Dead.”
“Yes, and whatever happened, I am bleeding power. Sick, headaches, twisting knots in my stomach an--”
“An’ wanderin’ ‘round t’ garden like a wild, ravenous beast. Wakin’ up in place you ain’ fall asleep in.”
Eilithe grit her teeth and nodded once. “I fear for my mate, for my children, and the family.”
“An’ do ya fear fer ya own deat’?” She left out a wheezing cackle, pregnant belly jiggling. “Ahehe, poor little zulfi lost ‘er whey. What did’ja expect learnin’ from an an elf. A traita’ elfie at that- afta my kin showed ‘em kindness an’ he slaughter ‘em fa powa’.” She stopped to wipe off her nose and sit forward. “He taught ya how ta wield pow’ - he ain’ teach ya ‘ow ta wield fait’.”
Ath’aste’s hand curled around a bowl, with a collection of herb pouches in it. Which she began opening once after the other as she continued her chastise of Eilithe.
“You lost ya fait’ a long time before tha’ Loa died. Fait’ in ya lova’ when he broke ya hear’-- even tho’ he told’ja ‘actions not words’. Fait’ in ya family when one by one dey turn on ya-- even as new an’ old face remain loyal at ya side. But worst a’ all, E’leet’ Duskbringa’, ya los’ fait’ in yaself.”
Eilithe took the verbal beating, if only because she knew the troll was right. Her eyes down, she bore holes into the floor with her eyes- unable to move while the troll continued mixing and grinding together herbs into a paste which she scrapped out and began to transfer into a jar. “Tha’ answer ain’ in ya regainin’ tha’ powa’ now los’ to ya-- is in returnin’ ya fait’, seekin’ a Loa ta work with no’ for.” A low chant began from the pit of Ath’Aste’s stomach, eyes glowing blue from the brown they usually rested at. The next word she spoke were a like a prohpecy, or some incantation that chilled Eilithe to her bone. “You E’leet Duskbringa are owned by no man, and by NO God. Go fort’ an’ find ya own powa’ or you can fin’ ya deat’.”
The glow in her eyes faded, and she extended the jar out to Eilithe. “Ya hollow righ’ now, right here in ya belly,” she said, gripping at Eilithe stomach, “-- an empty vessel fa’ the evil beyond tha’ veil ta’ prey on. Rub dis on ya chest at night afta’ a bat’. It’ll ward da spirits from ya’ body.”
Eilithe bowed her head aand received the jar, “Ath’aste I am in your debt. Anything.. Anyt--”
Ath’aste cut her off again, “Nothin’ is free, Duskbriga’. Nothin’ is without condition.” She tapped the top of the jar with a single finger, “When dis is all gone, if ya’ haven’t figured it out ya’ gonna go ta’ ya’ deat’. An’ it ain’ just you dats gon’ suffer. An’ no curses of angry ghosts, nor stubbornness of ya lova’ gon’ stop dat.”
@kurel-andiel @deadsunharbor Zandali helper: Zulfi, derogatory term for a female Zul, insinuates a lack of knowledge.
watching the x files
not being forced I promise