#zalmai

[sulaymanaziz-blog]

(Sulayman Aziz)

[5centsapound]

Zalmaî : Return Afghanistan

For more than a quarter of a century, Afghanistan has been ravaged by war, drought, and famine. Afghan-born photographer Zalmaï returns home after twenty-three years in exile to rediscover his homeland at a crucial moment of transition. Working in rich color, and frequently using a panoramic format that embraces the vastness of the sky and sand, Zalmaï immerses us in the ravaged landscape and the bustle of reconstruction. My project tries to capture the resilience of a people who have rarely known peace, their optimism in the face of overwhelming odds and the very real worry that the country remains on a knife-edge and could easily slip back into a nightmare from which it is still trying to escape.environment, many are finding this experience traumatizing.

[izzeibean]

My muse is dead. Tell me how yours is dealing with it. Raltune dead

If there was one thing that Zalmai was not a stranger to, it was loss and it was suffering.

She had woken to the news of her mate’s death in war from the commander that he was serving under. Nyota was hugged to her hip, the toddler watching the orc curiously. She took the letter, and his tabard with a tired nod, before the legionnaire left the new widow to grieve.

If it weren’t for her son, the druid would have done as she did many times before. She would have shut down, put her face in the pillows and gone off to a different place, as not to fracture what little mentality she had left. She had too much to worry about. Her son to care for, and another child on the way. And to that effect, what would Ale have done if she just stopped functioning. The bird likely would have pecked her to death.

So for the day, the woman just sat in the hut in silence, letting Nyota play with his toys as he wanted. And then, she did what she does best. She picked herself up, and continued on with her life, keeping him in memory.

[anraheth-art]

"You're gonna be fine, okay? You... You'll be fine." - M'chumba to Jenzulu. AAAAND, "Oh, god. Please be alive. Please still be alive." fom Zal to Tez! OR "Don't die... Don't die on me. Please..." from Rak to Oti.

((WHY NOT ALL THREEEEE~~??))

There was blood, so much blood. Where Jenzulu’s ended and his enemy’s began, not even M’chumba could tell. Every cough brought up another clot, crimson staining the druid’s lips as his mate clung to his hands as if willpower alone could save him.

"You’re gonna be fine, okay? You.. You’ll be fine," She repeated, over and over, blue eyes fixed on violet-red.

Jenzu cracked a smirk, though it faltered some, “Ah t’ink joo an’ I bot’ know dere ain’ any comin’ back from dis ‘un, chickadee…” His voice was raspy and wet at the same time, thick with blood.

Choo shook her head. “No! No, don’t talk like that. You never gave up before, so don’t give up now!” She replied indignantly, though a part of her knew Jenzu was right.

"Kunda can help you.. she can heal you… just hold on a little longer? Please, for me? For Kunda?" She chewed on her lip, so much so that the skin finally broke and bled.

"Ya know I wanna, girlie.. I wanna stay so bad.." His eyes grew sad, and a bloody hand reached up to caress her soft, leathery skin. She was so warm, and he was so.. cold. His hand left a smear, but M’chumba refused to let go, and clasped her own over it.

"T.. there’s a ‘but’ in there, isn’t there.." Tears welled in her eyes.

He let out a deep, hacking cough, and more blood than before came with it. She could see him pale, each breath a larger struggle than the last as he replied, “.. But.. Ah feel de Loa.. callin’ me home.. butchu know.. Ah’ll always be watchin’ ovah ya.. an’ Kunda.. an’ the boyos.. Ah promise.”

Kunda arrived at the scene just in time to watch her mother hunch over the lifeless body of her father. The twins heard the wracking, inconsolable sobs at the gates. And as they laid him to rest, they heard the soft growl of an incorporeal tiger.

He was always there, just as he had promised.

((Putting the rest under a read more!))

Desperate times called for desperate measures, as the saying went. The clan had been beset from all sides by enemies— ogre, naga, murloc, the Twins.. anyone who had ever had reason to fight the clan fought them. It was chaos, complete and utter madness. The clan had called in every ally they could— former clanmates, allied races, those who owed them favors.. but it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough for Zalmai.

Tezuli had pulled her aside in Orgrimmar and begged for her help, and Zalmai returned. She lent the Shadowtusk her claws, fangs, and when the battle was finally over and the enemies defeated, she lent them her healing.

"SOMEONE GET A HEALAH OVAH HEAH, NOW!!" She heard another troll bark, and she took a moment to catch her breath only to lose it a moment later.

"HURRY— TEZULI’S HURT REAL BAD—!!"

She moved as swiftly as her legs could carry her, even as they began to fail under the crushing worry of what had happened to her adopted daughter. Her heart pounded against her ribs as if threatening to burst through, and as she neared the scene, she pushed worried onlookers out of her way.

"Ah’m a healer, lemme through! Lemme see her—!!" Her voice was a sharp bark, and masked the utter terror that rose in her as she saw the shadow hunter.

Tez was broken. So very, very broken. Her right arm was completely severed from her body, and lay a short distance away. Her Rush’kah was cracked and dented, and blood oozed from underneath it. Her chest and torso armor were torn to pieces, her legs broken.

Zalmai was no stranger to the violence of war, her stomach had long ago been steeled to the atrocities.. but this was different. This was her daughter.. and to see her lying there made her gut twist. She took another few moments to force herself to calm down when new details renewed her panic.

Tezuli wasn’t breathing. The fiery red-orange glow in the eye sockets of the bear skull Rush’kah were gone, snuffed out. Her hands began to shake as she channeled her healing energies into the shadow hunter.

"Oh, god. Please be alive. Please still be alive," She murmured, and her voice began to quaver.

Those who circled the druid watched, though they all shared an unspoken knowledge that Zalmai yet refused to acknowledge. When her magic didn’t close the wounds, when the young Shatterspear refused to breathe, Zalmai grew angry.

"No— no, don’t you do this!! You can’t die!" She snapped.

She spent so much time there, and pushed all her energy into the body. When nothing worked and desperate prayers fell on seemingly deaf ears, Zal forced herself to confront the truth. As she slowly peeled the mask off Tezuli, she saw the distant gaze of the dead.

"M.. my baby, my girl.." Her anger vanished as quickly as it had came, and grief filled her to the brim. "No, no, no.. not my little cub.."

Two warm hands pressed to Tezuli’s cheeks, and the druid leaned forward over her, pressing gentle kisses to her forehead, nose, cheeks. Onlookers dispersed as her wracking sobs began. For hours, Zalmai sat in the bloodied battlefield, and clutched the body of her daughter to her chest. Her girl, gone… and all it took was one thought, and Zalmai continued to sob.

If love could have saved you… you would have lived forever.

*******

That Otieno had let Rak’yat even speak to her was a miracle. The pregnant Sandfury held so much anger for her mate, so much hurt. Rak bore it all, though, even if so much of it couldn’t have been helped. She wanted her love back, her heart. She wanted Otieno.

As Otieno’s delivery date neared, Rak’yat tried to spend as much time with her as possible. Her dreams taunted her with horrible visions, nightmares of losing Oti. She pushed them down whenever she saw the hydromancer, and forced herself to be positive and to channel her fears and worries into protecting the woman she loved so dearly.

But in the dead of night, a good month before the child was expected, Oti went into labor. She had been staying nearby in Lunazu and Asa’ti’s hut, and was moved to Ale’s and Drajin’s for the birth, but already there seemed to be complications. Rak’yat was by her side in moments.

The baby wasn’t coming. Oti pushed, and pushed, and pushed, but the baby wouldn’t budge. Rak did all she could to calm her love down, and cooed to her gently, but it only did so much. Instinct told Oti to push harder, and she did.. until she pushed too hard.

Something ruptured, and suddenly there was blood. Otieno screamed in pain, yet unaware of the damage as Ale called for a healer. What seemed like good news in the baby beginning to crown only became the very nightmare Rak dreaded.

Otieno was bleeding out, and no healers responded. In the dead of night, the city was asleep, and all of Ale’s attempts to stem the blood flow herself only provided temporary relief. Rak’yat, however, was panicking. Oti cried out in pain as tears streamed down her cheeks. The cloths laid out for her birthing were now soaked in blood.

But then a new cry sounded. High-pitched and interrupted by gasps. The baby. Ale quickly cut the cord and put the child on Oti’s chest, but both her ears and Rak’yat’s fanned down. Otieno was still bleeding, and badly. Her skin had paled and was cold and clammy to Rak’s touch. Ale barked over the skull for a healer yet again, and continued to try and stop the flow.

"Don’t die… Don’t die on me. Please…" She murmured, with her nose against Oti’s cheek. "You can’t die, maisha.. you can’t.." She hissed softly.

"H… Hiari.. her name.. is Hiari," She replied softly, barely able to hold up the nursing child.

Rak’yat bit her lip. Even Ale, normally unmovable as a mountain, drew in a deep breath to calm herself. The look she gave Rak told her everything she needed to know: Oti was dying. There was nothing they could do but keep her comfortable.

Ale grabbed some spare furs from the side of the hut and draped them around Oti and the baby. Then, she sat on Oti’s other side and rested a hand reassuringly on her arm.

"We’re here, Oti.. we’re here," She spoke softly. Rak’yat choked back tears.

"Mmh…" The pale Sandfury hummed, ".. Hiari.. means.. free will.." Tears brimmed in her own eyes as she weakly stroked the small tuft of red hair on the suckling infant’s head. "My little.. free.. will.." Her voice grew weaker with each word, until finally, it was no more than a whisper on the wind. And just like that… Otieno was gone.

Rak’yat and Ale both reached arms under the child as Oti’s fell, and even Hiari seemed to grasp that something was very, very wrong. Her high-pitched sobs began anew. Rak pulled the child into her own arms with the Zandalari’s help, and rocked her gently. Her own tears fell without abandon, and Ale made the announcement to the few who had awoken in the area. There was no need for a healer now, just a witch doctor to oversee the burial.

[fuegomellark]

A Thousand Splendid Suns

"Getaway, you!" Zalmai cried.

"Hush," Mariam said "Who are you yelling at?"

He pointed. "There.That man."

Laila followed his finger. There was a man at the front door of the house, leaning against it. His head turned when he saw them approcahing. He uncrossed his arms. Limped a few steps toward the.

Laila stopped. A chocking noise came up her throat. Her knees weakened. Laila suddenly wanted, needed, to grope for Mariam's arm, her shoulder, her wrist, something, anything, to lean on. But she didn't. She did't dare. She didn't dare move a muscle. She didnt dare breathe, or blink even, for fear that he was nothing but a mirage shimmering in the distance, a brittle illusion that would vanish at the slightest provocation. Laila stood perfectly still and looked at Tariq until her chest screamed for air and her eyes burned to blink. and, somehow, miraculously, after she took a breath, closed and opened her eyes, he was still standing there. Tariq was still standing there. Laila allowed herself to take a step toward him. Then another. And then she was running.

[izzeibean]

☾ - sleep headcanon for zal

- dead-mans-reel.tumblr.com

Zalmai is a heavy sleeper once she gets down to it. Quite often, she'll sleep half curled into a ball. Now that she's got her little one, she tucks him up against her middle and wraps herself around him.

[coconuttygreywow]

WANTED: TEZULI, SHADOW HUNTER OF THE SHATTERSPEAR. ((I'll let you decide for what because I'm uncreative ahahaha :D Also hi~~ <33))

((HI BBY I MISS YOU!))

Another day in Orgrimmar, another walk past all the bounty boards. However Kiri stopped when she saw a familiar shock of bright purple hair among the crowd. Zalmai did not seem pleased, her ears were back and her shoulders were hunched.

"Zalmai?" Kiri asked as she approached, but there was no answer. The older woman simply stood shaking in place. Following her gaze, Fah'kiri saw why.

Wanted: Tezuli of the Shatterspear, Occupation: Shadow Hunter, Wanted for Conspiracy, Kidnapping, and Murder

Fah'kiri's eye widened in shock at the large, bold lettering. Tezuli was many things, but she wasn't so stupid as to do those things. The Clan was careful not to draw the Horde's ire. Or at least, they had been when she'd been among them. Maybe things had changed...

Zalmai's hands lashed out, grabbing the poster and ripping it down. "Help me." She all but growled.

"Zal, we can't get them all. They're lies, she'll stay safe in the Clan."

"You can't know that." She whispered, anger mixing with fear. Tezuli had been like a daughter to her. Like a sister. If Zalmai lost her...

Wrapping her arms around the taller woman, Fah'kiri lightly tugged at her. "Come on. You need to sit down, this will blow over. She'll be safe. She survived Da'ae and his stupid trials, she'll survive any orc that comes her way."

[izzeibean]

Black bird for I'fe, Zalmai and M'chumba.

The wood creaked and frame of her hut groaned. It was straining to stay supported. With ears pinned back, little I’fe tugged desperately at her sister’s arm. “Come on, Na’ni! Get up! We gotta go!” No response came from the little Shatterspear. Tears welled in I’fe’s eyes as she pulled and wriggled in a vain attempt to dislodge the body. She had hardly heard the movement behind her. Kaldorei voices shouted out, making commands she didn’t understand. Dropping to the floor, I’fe played dead. Pieces of the hut frame were starting to collapse. By this point, I’fe was crying and couldn’t contain it. A bellow of a roar made her jump. It was her sire. She had no idea where he came from, or how he got there. As he lay into the Kaldorei outside the burning hut, he yelled for her. “I’fe! Go, little cub! I’ll meet you outside the Vale!” And so I’fe ran. She jumped up and bolted out of the hut and fled the Shatterspear Vale. And she sat. And she sat, and she waited, and waited. Her papa didn’t come. No sign of life roused from the village after the elves moved out. It was only a week later did the malnourished and starved I’fe move on to seek out Orgrimmar.

Slipping away.

She was slipping away. Endless waves. Endless water. Endless nothingness.

The sound of the water surrounding her lulled her into an odd comfort. It was cool on her flesh, soothing her heated face. All of the crying she had done made her feel like she was forever on fire. It was nice. She never really minded the cold, anyways. It was easier to warm up than it was to cool down.

For a while, the druid lost herself with the motion of being carried out to sea. She had waded out into the waters, last she remembered, early in the morning. With how the sun was tipping over the horizon, it was evening. A full day she had spent just floating. Floating and forgetting everything.

It was nice to not have to worry about anything. No hurt. No child. No hunger. No sadness. Just… a pleasant numb feeling. She didn’t feel left behind. She didn’t feel neglected, or overworked, or taken advantage of. She didn’t feel under appreciated or overpraised. Just nothing.

She didn’t worry about dinner, or cleaning, or healing, or where her mate had disappeared to. What her child shoved in his mouth. What trouble her friends got into. Simply nothing.

And as she floated, the druid turned to nothing. The water lapped at her form. She, too, started to become the water. Became the nothingness that cradled her.

It was just her.

The sky.

The waves.

"Ehn… He looks hungry, girly… Ya’ okeh?"

The voice was foreign. It shattered the nothingness. It brought her back. Once again, she was Zalmai. Once again, her heart hurt. Once again, she was on the shores of the Echo Isles, staring out blindly to the waters. And once again, all the worry, the stress and the fear came rushing back.

———————————————————————————————————————-

Those who knew Tanaris, knew that even a single cloud in the sky was not a good sign. So when M’chumba spotted just a whisp of a cloud? She wandered on home. Something in her gut told her to check on her family. And so, she did! Through the vast, sandy city she trotted, hears flicked up and listening. There was an eerily somber air to Zul’Farrak. Furrowing her brows, the little sunshine child picked up the pace. Outside her big ol’ hut, there were dozens of Sandfury gathered, all garbed in black.

Her pit lurched.

Running into the hut, she burst past everybody at the door. What she saw broke her wee little heart. Her sire lay on a matt, body garbed in ceremonial cloth. It looked like he was sleeping, but she knew he wasn’t. Rushing to his side, little M’chumba dropped and shoved her face against his bare chest. “Papa… papa, no, wake up…”