#vaelsnipe

[lukel-sunshadow]

𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕪 𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞.

The happy husbands! Art by the incredible @negativesd09, featuring @vaelsnipe.

[vaelsnipe]

Shattering

Lukel had broken him. He'd shattered the man he loved. It hadn't been an outcome he'd prepared for, so confident in himself that he hadn't stopped to think that this could happen. It was worse than anything he could have imagined. So much worse.

”Just promise me, when you get up off that table, you'll tell me you still love me.” Vael had promised, kissing him softly before they’d begun.

And there had just been horrible, empty silence when it was over.

Every shred of Vael was gone. He didn't look at Lukel like he loved him, didn't touch him, didn't have the same joy in his eyes that he'd had for months now. It was just…empty. Emotionless. Blank.

And Lukel hated himself for it. More than he'd ever hated anything before. He couldn't look in the mirror because all he would see - all he feared seeing - was his father staring back out at him. The man who had broken his son repeatedly, joyfully. Who hadn't stopped when his heart did, who had simply waited for him to come around, born back into the pain he'd briefly escaped from.

He'd done that to Vaelsnipe. Unintentionally, but he had broken his soul into pieces, and now there was nothing there when he looked into his eyes. So he stopped looking at him. He stopped eating. He stopped caring about sleep. He just sat and stared at the empty hearth while that silence that had descended upon their once happy home ate him alive. He'd ruined it. He'd ruined him.

And he didn't know how to make it right.

Staring at his own reflection, there wasn't even something there. There was, in fact, nothing. Vaelsnipe could recall the pure agonizing pain that felt like it might never end. How it violently shattered his soul and not at all metaphorically. A storm had broke itself apart under its own force deep within him leaving nothing but mere fragments floating about within the typhoon.

He could remember their voices within his core, both of them crying out to one another, raw and frightened, till it all suddenly stopped. And then there was nothing.

When Vael woke, there was no pain. No fear. No relief. Only the intense numbing absence.

His memories remained intact. He knew who he was. He knew who Lukel was. He knew that he loved him, married him and had chosen this path. But the feelings that had brought him to it were now... gone. Love reduced to knowledge without any weight. He understood that this should have terrified him somewhere within. Instead, he simply observed it as he was merely observing how Lukel was reacting to it.

"Don't apologize." He had said in a tone of voice he used to use back when they first met. When he was masking his emotions from him entirely but this time, it wasn't a mask. It just... was devoid any weight at all. "I asked for this."

What remained of his soul drifted in fragments through an endless dark, pieces of himself buried within them and unreachable at first. He moved through the days calm and functional, an echo of the man he had been. When Lukel looked at him, Vael could see the devastation there in his face, recognize it as something important that he should seek to fix and still he did not know how to reach back.

Though he did not feel wounded, this was a wound that was going to take time to recover and piece back together. Work, which was slow and extremely taxing on a heart that was shattered and all Vael could do was watch it shatter more as he remained at his side. Exhaustion set in as Vael watched Lukel unravel beneath the strain. He saw the signs with the shaking hands, the scared silence, the way the house emptied itself of warmth. He knew something was wrong. He knew he should act. Without emotion, intent had stalled and that failure unsettles him more still deep within to this day than the pain ever did.

In that emptiness, Vaelsnipe learned what he was without feeling. Efficient. Controlled. Unburdened. The world became quieter, simpler. He understood then why some sought that state deliberately. Looking back, he now knew why it was a lie to call it peace. Yet what he endured was pale compared to what Lukel had survived in repetition throughout his lifespan.

Watching Lukel break, Vael finally understood literally what it meant to have a soul shattered and rebuilt again and again until something else emerged from the wreckage. While he had been spared something emerging from his own, he understood Lukel and the shattered parts of him on an intimate level now more than ever. And yet even fractured, something in him still reacted, to him.

He could not feel love, but he knew it was there. And the knowledge of Lukel’s suffering disturbed him deeply like an imbalance. As something wrong that demanded correction. So he worked tirelessly to find himself again.

It was strange to not just know but to live with the fact that he no longer needed sleep. No longer felt hunger. So it made his work more achievable at a faster rate than he was certain it took Lukel when he'd done this alone.

When his emotions returned, they did not do so gently. They came back all at once nearly overwhelming him. And with them came the full weight of what Lukel had endured alone while Vael stood beside him unable to respond as a husband should. He understood why he still couldn't look at himself in the mirror, and that his "I still love you." was too little, too late. It is a heavy weight he carries still.

He didn't regret his choice, nor would he ever he'd vowed. He'd knew what it cost them, and how it had nearly broke them both. But he was determined to find a way to help him look in the mirror and see the elf he saw despite it all, however long it was going to take. Now… he had all the time in the world to see it through.

(Written by @lukel-sunshadow and myself from both our character's perspectives. Thank you my friend for your time and writing as we embark on their new story arc together wherever it might lead them. Artwork by @artofwinterleigh - who beatuifully captured this heartbreaking chapter in their story. Thank you Lei, your work continues to awe us both.)

[walker-of-the-middle]

The Relic's Gift

She had examined his hands carefully; each callous and faint scar, every mark and nick, the way he held them out to her, the way they didn't shake even when he knew, in part, what she was. There was no fear in him but rather a deep curiosity as she looked each hand over before patting him on the shoulder. He'd done good, she told him, before she left him in the field with Lukel's sheep and disappeared. Leaving him, no doubt, still just as curious as he'd been when she'd appeared.

Her workshop in Tanaris had been dusty when she'd come back to it after a decade of absence and unuse. But within a few days she'd had it cleaned and tidied and ready to begin her work again. But this work would be different from what she usually worked on in here, the pieces and parts of artificial limbs lining the tables and walls. This was special, and something she would take great care in creating.

It had been many years since she worked with Titansteel, but it had always been a familiar metal to her. It was incorruptible and strong. Elementium was more difficult as it was rather indestructible, but her bones had been forged of the same metal, once upon a time. And like always called to like. So she worked tirelessly, for days, remembering the ways to sing to the metal, to combine them, to marry them. It was difficult and strenuous, and it took her many days to remember the songs correctly, but eventually, the metals listened - they obeyed - and they twined around one another in her crucible. Becoming one thing out of two, something new. Something she had never thought to combine before.

Something she would never combine again. Because this was unique, something she would only ever craft once. Because he had asked her to. Because his happiness has radiated like a sun all its own and she could only smile and tell him that she would do her best. 

She poured the metal into the mold, continuing her song of strength and love and purpose - to protect and to uphold. To be unique, the only thing like its kind in the world. Like certainly called to like as the metal cooled and eventually she broke it free of the mold and went to work shaping it. It was hard, beyond anything she'd ever created, but she would not give up, or tire, or stop. The metal was her cousin, and she would guide it along this journey until it was complete. She would love it as she had loved everything else her hands had made. She would love it as she loved the man who had been her enemy and her greatest friend. And her family. She would love it as that man loved his Hunter. And she would ensure that it would last his lifetime. Her own lifetime. 

She crafted the runes that would hold what she'd place within the band, that would not be a prison but an eternal embrace. He'd asked for stars, and stars she could do. Golden light encompassed the band, to hold it carefully while she sang those stars into existence, as she placed them tenderly into the metal. He had asked for stars and she would ensure they shone as brightly this day as they would thousands of years from now. 

Days and days and hours poured into her creation and when it was finished, she placed it into a small box and closed the lid, to let it rest, to let it have quiet to let it know itself. Not that she had made it sentient in any way, but even crafted things bore the mark of their maker, and she wanted it to bear only her affections and her desire for it to be loved by the man it would be given to someday. 

Mentions of @lukel-sunshadow @vaelsnipe

[lukel-sunshadow]

I'ɱ ɠσιɳɠ ƚσ ʅσʋҽ ყσυ ϝσɾ α ʅσɳɠ, ʅσɳɠ ƚιɱҽ.

Amazing art by the incredibly lovely and supremely talented @ziorre , featuring @vaelsnipe.

[vaelsnipe]

The Last Portrait

Glancing back, perhaps the only thing I'll really miss.

ARTWORK BY the talented Julia Chaus, kmrf0 on discord.

[vaelsnipe]

“You will feel no more pain.” With a sudden forced twist, a quick intense and singular acoustic event occurred with something like a sharp snap and then, silence. The death was quick, but it was by no means clean. The springpaw was glowing with a light that did not belong to it, and already the spores were growing from its body. He could not bear to let it suffer and knew there was no way to stop it or reverse it, only a small mercy to a beast that had run too close to the lightbloom in its frenzy and fright. Words failed at fully articulating what he felt in that current moment. He had a strong love and desire to help and to protect the people of Silvermoon, of eversong woods, of home. But seeing the devastation that was taking place in his very homeland where he had been born, raised and spent most of his life caused by the recent events at the Sunwell… a burning hatred for the light itself was not something he could have foreseen would ever come to pass within him. Despite that, even as stubborn as he could be, he did not hate the light. It was the fanatics that wielded it that were in their own way just as dangerous as a Ren’dorei who hadn’t yet found peace with their own fight with the void in them that upset him. And yet all around them it seemed like more and more followers of the light were only -now- starting to see that even their precious light was just as volatile and dangerous as the void, the fel, the whatever magics people feared fits here. Noone was safe from the addiction that came with the powers that be. His time as a mercenary after the destruction of his home had taught him that magic was all the same. It was the wielder that made it evil or wielded it for good. No magic should go unchecked, but for years shadow priests were capable of wielding both sides of the same coin efficiently and no one seemed to question them. Not till they lost the fight to one side or the other and needed to be stopped. His time with Lukel had solidified what he’d been learning over time and now given the choices he’d made he too was living breathing proof of what he’d come to believe. But it still made him internally twitch everytime some light fanatic commented about the Ren’dorei or the void or any other magic they did not truly understand but merely had a reason to hate and fear. And as he stood there along the border of the Fairbreeze Village, there was proof all around them to hate even their precious light. To fear it, and to rethink how it was affecting not just them but everything around them. The animals, the plants, the fanatics that could trust nothing but their precious light just refused to see and acknowledge that maybe… they were wrong.   So what could he do about it? His family was never part of the farstriders, but they aided them and worked right alongside them for generations. The Dawnwhispers had served the forest and the animals and the people sometimes in that order. But Vaelsnipe had always chosen the animals first as that was his strongest bond even over the people or the flora. He rose from the body he knelt before, a hand brought to his arm and though armored it settled right over the top of the very first tattoo he’d ever gotten. The springpaw lynx had great meaning to him. The idea rolling around in his mind was a task that he couldn’t have pulled off efficiently in his former life. But as he turned to look to Lukel, to fill him in on what he planned to do about this, it was a plan that the two of them could achieve. A task that would save many of the hawkstriders, lynx, dragonhawks and any other beast he would encounter because together, they had the means to achieve it. And with a little help from one other… the sooner they started, the better. He appreciated that his husband didn’t find him silly or the task too far fetched for that matter, but this was what he could do about this situation. It’s what he would do, till the issue with the lightbloom was solved however long it took. He would protect the beasts that mattered to him. 

[vaelsnipe]

The Wind Knows Before We Do

Day 5 Restless/Faith @daily-writing-challenge and mention to @lukel-sunshadow @tycildawnwhisper and friends of the @theshieldedmind

The day had been quiet. Almost too quiet.

Tycil had held a few tired, crooked smiles as she leaned on the frame of her half-built doorway, wiping sawdust from her fingers. They’d replaced old beams, reinforced the second story. Vaelsnipe’s shoulders ached pleasantly from labor, but the ache couldn’t compete with the deeper thrum beneath his ribs. That old rhythm of watchfulness.

He left with the promise he’d be back before the week was out to help her some more. She nodded and turned back into the house that had finally begun to resemble more and more of a home.

The woods of Goldenbough Pass swallowed him whole as he walked on for the city. Birdsong filtered through the high boughs, and golden light traced slow arcs across the path. But to Vael, the peace felt paper-thin. A trick of surface tension.

Each step stirred memories. A scream in the snow. The burn of void in the air. The vile smell of undeath creeiping up behind. The moment the gates of Silvermoon cracked once before when no one believed they could fall.

This forest watched us die once, he thought grimly. It could do so again.

He paused beneath an old tree, one he remembered climbing as a boy. A companion he hadn't though about for thousands of years perched above, tail curled, watching him carve arrowheads with Tycil. Now it just stood silent. Ancient. Unmoved.

The problem wasn’t the silence. The problem was how much he trusted it less and less.

He couldn’t shake it, the gnawing edge in his chest, like an arrow held taut but never loosed. Every time he looked at Tycil, at Lukel, even at the doctors gossiping in the city's clinic there it was.

What if it happens again? What if the next wound takes them? What if peace is just a delay, not a gift?

Silvermoon came into view, its spires gleaming in the fading sun. But even the light here felt brittle.

He passed through the gates, nodding once to the guards. They knew him now by sight, by name, by the wary look in his eyes. The city had returned to its rhythms, laughter echoing from balconies, music spilling from taverns. But he saw too clearly the fragile seams. The overconfidence. The ease that let danger in the first time.

It’s all so breakable, he thought. All of it. And no one wants to admit that.

He stopped just before the main thoroughfare, where the cobblestones turned from forest-shadowed to gold-tinged. The scent of lilacs drifted faintly in the air, he didn’t know if it was the gardens or just Lukel again, lingering in memory.

His pulse caught. Because that was what made it worse.

He cared now.

Tycil. Lukel. The quiet bonds he’d formed with people who made him laugh again, curse again, feel again. He had roots now. And that made him vulnerable in ways he had almost forgotten how to live with.

He tilted his head toward the sky, just for a moment. The city’s light painted his skin warm.

But still, the air tasted like prophecy.

Something’s coming. He didn’t know when. Or how. But the wind always changed before blood was spilled. And Vaelsnipe had never stopped listening.

[vaelsnipe]

WoW Character Profile: Vaelsnipe Dawnshadow (Formerly Dawnwhisper)

ARTWORK BY: Julia Chaus, kmrf0 on discord. the basics ––– –

NAME: Vaelsnipe Dawnshadow (Formerly Dawnwhisper)

NICKNAME: Vael or Snipe

AGE: 2,498 Years

BIRTHDAY: October 30th

RACE: “Quel’dorei”

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

MARITAL STATUS: Married to @lukel-sunshadow

physical appearance ––– –

HAIR: Short, Black turning more salt and peppered

EYES: Amber

HEIGHT: 6′

BUILD: Lean, athletic frame made for speed, balance and deadly efficiency. His body's agility, endurance and muscle tells of long treks through wilderness, precision shooting and years of survival under impossible odds. His sculpted legs are powerful with a tapering narrow waist and strong flexible core like every muscle lean and earned.

TATTOOS: See below for details, he has two full arm sleeves and tattoos across the top of his chest, his throat and both sides of his neck up to the back of each ear. They seem to follow a hunt etched in flesh theme as every animal is a memory, a kill, a bond, a narrow escape, a betrayal and each are inked with dark ebon or deep blues. Some have muted gold or silver arcane-infused inks around eyes or teeth as if enchanted. Vines, feathers, arcane runes and claw marks and storm clouds all flow to create this living mural across his skin.

PIERCINGS: None

SCARS: He has various scars all over from wounds he either didn't heal well or let heal naturally but they are all pretty minor and just age him more. The only real notable scar is covered by a tattoo on his right arm.

FACE CLAIM: David Beckham

personal ––– –

PROFESSION: Ballistic Alchemist, Wildbane Operative, Runesniper, Spellshot Tracker

HOBBIES: Ammo crafting more than just with gunpowder, fletching and bowcrafting even if he uses guns, gunsmithing, falconry and animal handling, mapping trails or lost ruins, stargazing, tattoo sketching and journaling

LANGUAGES: Thalassian, Common, Orcish, Darnassian, Shal'assian (somewhat), Zandali (loosely), Taur-ahe

SKILLS: Alchemical Ammunition he creates himself many different specialty bullets and arrows. Marksman's Precision no matter the weapon he's firing and often hired as a sniper due to his ability to calculate a shot. Hunter's Lore of hunting magical and mundane creatures gives advantage to identify and track magical beasts and understand them. Beastbond with companions he chooses via a deep soul-bond. Ghostwalking through any open terrain if shadows and wind favor him. Woundmender's basic field healing knowledge with natural remedies for animals and people though he uses this grudgingly.

GUILTY PLEASURES: Fine tea or wine, ballads and lullabies, collecting trinkets from contracts, flirting, storytelling, any excuse to dress in a suit.

FLAWS: Doesn't believe he deserves peace nor forgiveness nor rest nor love nor healing, reflected in the lack of getting his wounds healed properly - Explained more [Here] - He'll sabotage closeness, take the hardest road, mask pain with charm or cynicism and push through injuries or trauma without stopping.

PET PEEVES/ANNOYANCES: Sloppy weapon care, Mindless small talk, Flaunting honor, Bright and chipper optimism, Disorderly campsites, Being underestimated, Questions about his tattoos by someone he doesn't trust, overly clingy people and companions, people who mistake kindness for intimacy, Desecration of nature, traitors and manipulators, the undead and arcane recklessness.

FEARS: Loss of feeling anything, becoming hollow - Explained [Here], Letting someone in and losing them / not being able to protect someone he cares about - Explained [Here], Being seen as weak, forgetting his past.

ARTWORK BY: Julia Chaus, kmrf0 on discord.

relationships ––– -

SPOUSE: @lukel-sunshadow

Children: @the-golden-sparrow (adopted)

PARENTS: Deceased

SIBLINGS: Sister - Tycil Dawnwhisper [ @tycildawnwhisper ]

OTHER RELATIVES: Deceased

ACQUAINTANCES/FRIENDS: Suncinder He's starting to make a few more, though they are all still just acquaintances at the moment, time will tell if they ever become friends.

COMPANIONS: Virelith - 10 year old black panther, Wolfhawk - Un-named and Un-aged though he's been with him for around 12 years.

additional information ––– –

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

rp hooks --- -

Mercenary - he's assisted many different campaigns and military groups whenever and wherever his expertise and precision skills were necessary. He's even assisted the not so savory folk and taken contracts that were necessary though by no means legal.

Ballistic Alchemist and Runesniper - His ammo crafting and inventive mind aid in combining gunpowder, magic and calculation with deadly artistry. By now his unique rounds have been seen on the hunt or on the battlefield enough that word is spreading and people occasionally might inquire more about this skillset of his. He is not interested in selling as he custom builds everything for himself but rune-etched bullets are rare and memorable. Former Nobility - Despite the fact that Tycil and him decided to disband their house after the fall of Quel'thalas, the Dawnwhisper family was very widely known for their skills of the hunt and protecting the land and the people. Though the siblings seem to be more reclusive now, Vaelsnipe was usually the sibling who was present during balls, dinners, meetings and more over the years so his face is known albeit older and much more hardened now.

contact --- -

Feel free to approach on any platform though I admit I am better with in game interactions first and foremost

In-game name both WRA and MG: Vaelsnipe

Discord is a possibility but only once I get to know you in game first

Feel free to do asks/submits here on tumblr too if you wish to set something up later for in game interactions

tattoo dive --- -

VISUAL SKETCH LAYOUT FOR HIS CHEST, THROAT AND NECK Imagine Vael’s throat neck and upper chest as a stormy sky. The cloud serpent coils wide, thunder rippling into both arms. The Watcher Owl perches low, its wings folded protectively toward both sides of his neck, eyes resting right at the voice box . On the left neck up behind the ear, the dragonhawk flies upward toward the left ear. On the right neck near the ear, the baying crow and skull anchor downward. Shoulder to shoulder tattoo across the upper chest only (does not reach pecs) a weathering the storm Thundering Cloud Serpent within a storm cloud with body spread across shoulders and collarbones mid flight that ties both arm sleeves together. From above, the whole composition would feel like the storm has a heart (the owl), and two memories soaring in opposite directions (dragonhawk chasing forward, crow mourning behind).

VISUAL SKETCH LAYOUT FOR HIS LEFT ARM SLEEVE - THE KINSHIP PATH Top Shoulder Cap: Imagine Vael’s shoulder blade and biceps with Hippogryph Wings folded protectively over them feathery, grand wings curving like an old shield around the top of his arm. Shoulder / Upper Arm (toward front): a majestic bear head, calm eyes, mouth closed, fur etched like flowing water. The bear’s gaze turned slightly upward, as if watching the stars, grounded yet dreaming. Mid Arm (outer side): a sleek talbuk head, horns sweeping back, regal posture. The talbuk facing forward, horns framing the bear spirit above like a crown. Along his forearm, Along Forearm: a fierce ravasaur's half body coiled mid-stride, clever eyes glinting, claws careful, not reckless. The ravasaur’s tail curves around toward the back of his arm, like an unseen protector. Wrist: an elegant, elongated fen strider stepping through shallow water, its reflection abstracted into swirling ripples. Fading, dreamy lines as if the creature is both stepping out of the water and dissolving into it, flowing into his wrist.

VISUAL SKETCH LAYOUT FOR HIS RIGHT ARM SLEEVE - THE PREDATOR PATH Top Shoulder Cap: A Dire Worg centered heavily over the ball of the shoulder, snout snarling outward. Fur and frost-burned winds ripple backward along the shoulder blade and slightly down into the bicep. Shoulder / Upper Arm (toward front): A Fox Head peeking behind bushy tail nestled just slightly forward and under the Worg’s jawline, like it’s slyly peeking into view. The fox’s tail curls backward into some of the dire worg’s fur. Mid Arm (outer side): a Basilisk Eye large, cracked eye centered over the deltoid/bicep area. Cracks in the basilisk eye spider out into tiny veins across the skin, blending naturally with surrounding designs. Positioned so when Vael flexes or moves, it looks like the eye is trying to open Mid Arm (inner arm / bicep area): a Warp Stalker Claws. Three vicious claw rakes slash diagonally downward across the bicep, covering both muscle and part of the scar tissue underneath. Around the tears, faint ripples of shadow/magic ink distort the ink to give a half-real, half-nightmare feel. Outer Forearm (entire forearm): a Springpaw Lynx. The lynx is mid-pounce, stretched long across the outer forearm. Its paws nearly touch the wrist, giving motion as if forever in that silent, final leap before the kill. Wrist (wrapping around like a band): a Coiling Serpent twisting around the wrist, fangs aimed upward as if striking toward the elbow. Scales shimmer into the lynx's paws above, making the transition between the creatures feel seamless like the predator and poison are part of the same nature.

TATTOO ARTWORK BY: @ithiliosstarstrider