#windrunner lore

[uninspired--poet]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

“Sylvanas?”

The news had spread like wildfire. Velonara wondered how long it had taken it to reach Sylvanas. She wondered how many people had known before her. Not many, perhaps. She was the General, after all. News of a lost Captain would reach her rather quickly. Especially if that Captain was her sister. No one thought less of her when she’d excused herself until the time of the memorial service. Days from now, still.

But Lor’themar had thought to inform Velonara when Sylvanas declined a visit from him. And Velonara had never ridden so fast in her life. Not even the last time she’d seen Alleria. Right here. Right in this very room. She swallowed thickly as she shut the door to close herself into the heavy, suffocating silence of the Spire. She got no answer, but she knew Sylvanas was here. Somewhere.

[uninspired--poet]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Anya didn’t need to look back at Sylvanas to know just what she looked like lounging on her cot. This wasn’t their first night together. This wasn’t the first night she’d gotten dressed to slip through the darkness outside and back to her own tent. It didn’t bother her, of course. The Ranger-General was a talented lover and lovely to look at, after all. Everyone who had shared a bed with her knew that much.

“You’re quiet tonight.” Sylvanas’s voice was low and soft as she reached out to touch along Anya’s lower back just before her shirt slid down to cover it.

“You don’t usually want to talk,” Anya explained simply before she stood and reached to retrieve her boots, which she sank down to the floor of the tent to slide on.

Sylvanas sighed as she watched Anya finish dressing. No. She didn’t usually want to talk. Truth be told, she missed just...talking. She missed having something real. Something more than a few fleeting moments of pleasure.

[uninspired--poet]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

“There you go.” Sylvanas grinned as she positioned Vereesa’s elbow in a way that allowed her more control over the little bow she’d been shooting all morning. “Now. Always push towards your target. Draw to your eye, don’t lean into it. Relax your right arm.”

Vereesa groaned as she released the tension on your bow and turned the frustration in her expression towards her sister’s sympathetic gaze. “What is it, Little Moon?”

“How am I supposed to relax my right arm?” She demanded. “When that’s the arm doing all the pulling?”

“Stop pulling so much and start pushing. The most important thing your right arm is doing is pulling that nock to your eye. Once you get that down, nothing else is going to matter. You’ll be able to shoot from any position, even running. Even jumping. Let your right hand and your right arm be comfortable. Relaxed. Your left strong and steady. That’s what’s holding the tip of your arrow where it needs to be.”

[uninspired--poet]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Sylvanas positively beamed as she leaned down to catch the two children running towards her. She swung them around as they laughed and clutched at her armor - all while Lireesa watched from the kitchen and Velonara smiled softly from the doorway.

“How are my little monsters? Have you been good for Mom and Dad?” She asked as she stopped spinning and hugged them both close. “Huh, Little Moon? And you, my little music box?” She looked at Vereesa and Lirath in turn as she knelt to place them on the floor to truly see them, instead of the blurs they’d been as they’d run for her.

“We’ve been good!” Lirath reassured her with a grin, still holding onto one of his sister’s pauldrons lightly. Green. Not the blue of a true Ranger. Not quite yet. Though she certainly looked the part. Everything about her screamed easy, irreproachable authority. The kind you didn’t have to work for. The kind you were born with.

They had all grown, really. Not just the two new additions. Velonara - tall, sturdy, and lean. And Sylvanas…

[uninspired--poet]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

She wanted so badly for her to be happy. For her to find something soft in this life that would surely be one as hard as they came. She thought and spoke often about the life of a ranger. But rarely did she discuss these moments of reprieve. These moments they created as little safe havens - memories to retreat to in their minds at night when the sounds of war still rang in their ears and kept them awake.

Lireesa yearned for Sylvanas to make these memories.

And this was a wonderful start.

[uninspired--poet]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The Windrunner family has always carried the mantle of Ranger-General. But they have also loved and been loved in return. They are sons and daughters and mothers and fathers. There is a story behind the name. A story of love, acceptance, and loss beyond imagining...and of triumph against all odds.