#solaniar

[solaniar]

“You can’t be serious, after all she’s done. You don’t even agree with her..” He followed Solan down the narrow paths that lined the still empty portion of the city just east of his own small cottage. “Of course I don’t but should everyone be punished for her reckless warmongering?” The mage’s voice was a furious whisper. Even in Silvermoon it wasn’t exactly kosher to go on a full voiced opposition of the Warchief’s motives. “I’m a mage Elthor, I can open portals for escape.” “You’re already resigned to losing the city.” A statement. “The alliance is bringing it’s entire force against it, almost every race involved in the alliance is on this continent and we’re split in twain. We won’t be able to muster enough defense to push them back and..” He paused a moment, stopping their walk to turn to Elthor fully. “I’m worried this is bait.” “Bait?” He mulled over that a moment, watching Solan push back the hood of his cloak. “You think she’s baiting the alliance for what purpose?” “The forsaken can not reproduce. We have forbidden her from raising our own soldiers.” His voice dropped to a whisper so low Elthor almost had trouble hearing it. “But she is not above raising her enemies.” The ranger frowned. “Light help us.”

[solaniar]

...fin

In Quel'thalas the seasons never change. Spring never swelters in summer's heat, never knows the color of autumn's caress, never gives way to winter's cold embrace. It is a constant, timeless thing that often makes time appear to stand still even to a race where time is never lacking.

The ocean waves roll onto the shore, washing small pebbles and bits of shell onto the thin beach. The breeze carried along the waves does not notice french doors, open or closed as they are now. It will not notice that they do not open again. The wind doesn't mind if it never brushes over skin laid bare in the bedroom overlooking the water. It is does not notice gauze curtains now stiff and straight, hanging lifeless with those doors latched tight.

The stones in the front yard, some too large to move, remain poised like a dragon's building blocks. Just as she'd left them.

The lights have gone out, the spell to bring them to life unwound by shaking hands. The last bit of magic that remains is the ward on the door, before it too is released in a soft rush of arcane. Trembling fingers slide down the door face once, pausing to curl into a loose fist before dropping away. The coo of the Phoenix curled into his collarbone coaxes them up again to stroke its neck.

Solaniar turns then, lifting the small suitcase at his side and reaching to run fingers along Anari's back before walking away.

A letter, along with a key, would eventually find its way to the hands of a knight far from the land of eternal spring.

Corey,

I can not stay at the estate, it was not built with my family's money and it is not mine to keep. Besides, it is filled with more painful ghosts now than your family home ever was.

The last two years were hard, but I can't imagine surviving and thriving in them with anyone but you. You will always hold a dear place in my soul, regardless of anything else.

I hope you find whatever you are looking for Corey. I hope we both do.

Solan

[naivaria]

bloodstone: how my muse sees themself as part of the world at large

Naivaria used to think, by and large, that she was nothing. She came from a family that, to her, was already broken. Her mother was an alcoholic, and she and her sister lived on the streets for a really long time, barely scraping by (and she will never admit that they had to resort to tailoring clothing out of curtains at one point).But then a nobleman took interest in her dream to become a fashion designer, and hooked her up with Lady Devonshire through another noblewoman that he knew. Now Naivaria still struggles with that feeling of insignificance, but the people that she has come to know have started to break her out of those thoughts.

[solaniar]

 “But why? Why did you come back, if you knew what was happening? Why did they pull the ship into the harbor, surely they could see what was happening on land?” The blond elf looked horror-stricken, imagining the last moments of the undead beside him -of his crewmates- as they had returned their ship to Silvermoon’s port, even as the scourge laid waste to Quel’thalas. 

“I went with my ship, and her crew.”

“But you were.. are.. human.” Solan canted his head, brows knitted up in distress. “You had no ties to SIlvermoon, no family.”

The undead priest shifted uncomfortably, bones grinding and popping as he did. The light from the campfire illuminated his gaunt features, making him seem more monster than tired and lonesome man. 

“The blood of the covenant, young elf.”

Solaniar remained unconvinced but the undead’s yellowed gaze fell from him to the crackling fire. Hookah smoke rolled from a deep slash in his throat to disappear in the night air.

[varae-ver-you-are]

Who's your most frustrating muse to write for? Why?

It’s a toss up between Vaelios AU and Varaelian. Arae’sae flows so evenly onto a page without much effort, but AU Vae is complicated and there is much to his life he wants to scream to the heavens, but I have to write him as though he is an emotionless void. Then there is Varaelian who has to physically restrain himself and compose himself as something he isn’t while keeping up this wonderful charade. It’s frustrating because either I’m doing it so well NO ONE has caught on yet or I’m doing it poorly and no one cares. 

[jackarychaoti]

What’s an important lesson your muse has learned over the past few years and how has that changed the way they live?

Jack has begun to learn that his trust can't be given so freely anymore. When he used to be quite dapper and happy-go-lucky he was blinded by giving it out to even the wrongest of the wrong people. Since then, he's been burned quite a bit and it's finally started to take a toll on him. However on the opposite side of that coin, he's learned to really trust his close friends and always enjoy their honesty.

solaniar

[jackarychaoti]

Does your muse believes in afterlife?

Jack believes in a lot of things, but he's uncertain what happens when people actually die. Since he is what he is, his mind is uncertain if there is 'anything after the spirit passes on' or if people are simply reincarnated.  He's seen ghosts, obviously, so he's forced to believe that there is something beyond the mortal coils.

[azerothiantales]

Something your muse has problem in understanding.

 Oh gosh. 

I guess I’d have to say Canerae has a huge problem understanding when to be quiet. She talks a lot when she’s nervous, especially around new people. Most of the time it gets her into trouble because she’ll keep talking until she says something that she actually didn’t want to say. 

And Cellys? Uhhhh…I don’t even want to touch this one. There are so many things she perceives in a different way, but the main thing I would have to be would be friends and love. She doesn’t understand that even if she royally fucks up it will be her friends who are there to pull her back from the edge. 

solaniar