Tag: alexander

Exhaustion: Dreaming

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I dreamed last night.

I stood in a field torn up by battle. I could see the wounded and the dying. The dead and the rotting. I had seen battlefields before. If I squinted I swore I could see the  hopefully-not-still form of a great red dragon. A hobbling man. Two blue eyes and frost covered armor. Gold eyes. They all moved, close enough to see some details, far enough I could not confirm what they were.

Somethine stood beside me. They wore a cloak but the more I tried to focus on them and what was beneath the hood, the less I could find of her. Him? They were not young. They had the feeling of someone who has seen more than I ever could. Much good and bad, all intermixed and leaving a feeling of deep sorrow and pain. I licked my lips, feeling the metal piercing in my tongue rub against the roof of my mouth.  The smell of the battlefield reached me but the hooded figure motioned, gesturing towards it all.

Alexander  moved along the battlefield, casually holding his long polearm over his shoulder. His armor was covered in ice so thick I could barely see the metal plate beneath. Where he stepped he left ice in their wake. Despite the battlefield he were smiling and at ease. With a smile e stepped off opposing edges of the battlefield and simply…vanished. Reynllin was there as well in his true form and where the great red dragon set his claws the death and rot vanished. Forests rose up, flowers springing from the ground to fill the air with their cloying fragrance. Reynllin shifted to his elven form and walked into the trees he had created as he walked.  He met Rai’thas at the far end of the field. The sun brightened as Rai’thas raised his hands and they danced over flowers as the ice melted and made streams.

The bodies that had been covered in ice melted away with the stream, feeding the plants and trees. The ones Reynllin had passed were now home to ivy and morning glories. 

I turned my attention away from them all. Solidor wandered where the ice, flowers and trees did not touch. But where he stayed death remained. Flowers wilted and froze in his presence, Rai’thas’s light faded. Even as he grew closer to me I felt no fear. I stood there and waited.

Not all ends are beginnings, the cloaked figure never spoke I word but I heard it in my soul and knew it to be the truth. 

I didn’t know if this was an end. It did not bother me like it should have to see death, the flowers and plants wilting and dying, the Light fading.

I knew where I went I carried the Light with me. But I also knew when the Light faded this time the dark would consume me. I couldn’t fight against it. I have in the past called upon the Light to deliver harm. But now I could not do so any longer. 

Do no harm. I felt amusement radiate from the cloaked figure. Does do no harm mean to roll over and die?

Rai’thas stopped dancing with Reynllin and grasped Alexander’s hand. Reynllin disappeared in the trees with the twins. Solidor turned, leaving a trail of ice behind him that was so thick that when the ice cracked it sounded like bones.

The Light faded to the point I could see fingers of darkness swallowing it up, eating everything Rai’thas, Alexander, Reynllin, and Solidor had done. 

“No.” The figure never spoke but I could both hear and not hear them. Their words reverberated in my soul. “Adrianal would not, I would not either.” 

What then, will you do as the darkness seeks to swallow you whole? As it breaks your bones, slices into your flesh, and takes your lifesblood? Will you stay there and pray for the dark as it feasts on you?

The words made me bristle. I would not die so easily. I do not- have not- hated easily. But I hated the images those words invoked. I hated them with a passion. I raised my hand, knowing the Light would come again. It would come and it would burn the darkness like the fires of the sun. I would not go peacefully into the long night. I knew this was not real but I knew the fires would consume me as well as the dark.

A gloved hand reached out to hold the hand I was going to raise. Then the gloves were gone, showing off Thanelor’s cursed hand. His eyes bored into me, solemn. He stood straight, despite the fake leg. Strong, and gentle, and patient. But he would break like glass if the fire consumed me. I tried to pull my hand away. I did not want him to come with me, but neither would I die in the way the figure spoke.

But try as I might his hand held mine, as immobile as a mountain and his arm wrapped around my waist like the heaviest chains. I could talk to him and plead. But he would not be cast aside or let me go.

He had told me once it would break him if I died.

Heal or fight. Fight or heal. You pick one or the other. There is more than just that. 

The figure was right. Though I had struggled to channel the Light in such a manner. It felt to close to my vows to break.

The darkness has consumed almost everything now. There was no chance for Thanelor to escape with his leg as it was. The others were able to leave. But Thanelor and I could not. Thanelor’s hand went to his waist where a sheathed dagger lay and without seeing it I knew he would not go quietly. He’d try to defend us both. But the dark would consume us in the end.

Do you fear death?

I did not.

Why hesitate? Why stand there and let the both of you die, let your other loved ones die? Maybe becoming a priest was wrong- you should have never set foot on a battlefield if you aren’t willing to do what’s needed.

I hated that figure. I hated it. The dark crept closer.

Poor Altruist. Dying because they won’t  defend themselves. The Light chose poorly.

Anger rose up in me. I would not die. I would not.

The figure held out my halo to me. Then defend yourself. 

I took what was mine. I had earned this halo. I had let the Light and it change me, mold me anew to get the strength I needed to save my son. It was MINE. By faith, by the blood I spilt, by the very sacrifices I had made it was MINE. The halo began to glow brightly once more, gently pushing the darkness back without harming it. A shield.

It reminded me briefly of Aestus’s shield. But the thought was soon pushed away as I set the halo on my head. The darkness was not defeated. But I pushed it back. It did me no harm, but neither did I do it any. 

I woke up with my skin feeling like ice and Thanelor’s head on my chest. I felt the anger in my chest still. Righteous anger stoked to life once more in my chest.

I knew then in the small apartment and I still know now how to call upon it. I had forgotten what it was to truly summon the Light with anger and no intent to harm. I have always been so careful to keep neutral. Now, I could feel it again.

And now I will not let it go. I remember what I had forgotten. What I buried beneath my desire to heal.

I do not know what else to write. But now I am glad I have not forgotten.

TSGWC-9: Alexander & Rai’thas: Preparing for the Cold

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razxion:

PROMPT: How does your character deal with weather away from Silvermoon? Do they prepare, or just assume they will find what they need?

“Rai’thas, hold still!” Alexander chases his twin around the room with an enchanted sweater. The paladin ducks and throws his twin over his shoulder onto the bed. “No! I’m not going into Northrend again, let alone ICECROWN!”

“Oh come on, Rai! I’ll be there, Tyleril will be there. Aestus and Windsong too. We won’t let you freeze or get too cold.” The death knight slowly approaches his twin after rolling off of the bed with a sweet smile upon his face. “I’ll make sure the tent, bed, and heater are all working properly right after this.”

Rai’thas sighs and gives in, his twin putting the sweater over his head.

Exhaustion: We all fall down

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“The day is not yet done. Pavement to cross as there’s w-wounds to boss.” After he left Felo’thore’s bedside he fell had managed to get some sleep, coming back from reynllin’s corpse only briefly. But even that short sleep wasn’t enough. So exhausted still. He could feel his heart beating. 

Rai’thas lay in his bed, looking far to pale, fare to wounded. Alexander, sitting next to the bed, hands grasping Rai’thas’s. Still in his beaten and bloody armor he refused to leave his twin. “Going to feel… very bad in the morning.” he managed to Alexander’s sleeping form.

The pot calling the kettle black.

Carefully he leaned obver Rai’thas’s bedside. He almost lost all of them and still Rai’thas needed a mender. His own hands instinctively raised up but as he started to call upon the Light he could feel the strain in his chest, aching pain that came with each beat of his heart. Stiff knees complained loudly as he leaned over to kiss Rai’tha’s forehead. He whispered a soft prayer, simple and sweet but this one was no less heartfelt than the rest.

“Light, I humbly ask of you,

Protect thy child,

Shield them from the darkness

Lighten their path

And show them the way back to us once more.”

“I’ll be back. I love you two.” A gentle brush of his calloused hands over Alexander’s soft hair. “Light give you fortitude.” With that short prayer for Alexander he straightened himself. He didn’t want to leave Reynllin for long. Grief felt like it was shredding his heart into pieces. At least Alexander and Rai’thas still breathed. Even if they were wounded it helped ease his heart to know they were still there.

Life would be so much less without Rai’thas and Alexander’s smiles and goofy laughter. Their playfighting, watching them make jabs and egg the other on. It was so rare he slept without the twins on either side of him at home- his mind refused to process what it would be like to sleep in his bed at home alone with only memories of the twins.

He prayed, prayed  and prayed. For Reynllin to somehow return, for the twins, for Aestus, for Felo’thore and Adrianal. For Windsong- he had not seen the Diviner since they had parted before the final battle for the Dawnspire had begun. So many lost and so many more wounded. ignoring his own aches and pains he left the infirmary again to kneel down in front of Reynllin.

The blood that had spilled from Reynllin when he was wounded and as he was taken outside of the infirmary was almost as magical as Reynllin was- is. Is, he corrected. Is, is, is. Flowers of several varieties were growing where Reynllin’s blood had spilt. He looked like he was asleep. 

“Please.” Tyleril whispered. “Please wake up.”


@teamdoodledork @razxion

Windsong: Chapter 1

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“She wasn’t made a monster by us. She was a monster before she met us.”

Possibly NSFW.

It was a gory, flesh and blood spattered sight. The corpse she had found on her way to her end destination had simply exploded.  Arterial blood and pulpy flesh matter  had sprayed over the ground. But even seeing where something had forced the flesh outwards and snapping the bones within was not a deterrent.
It wasn’t the elf she was looking for and Windsong had let out a soft exhale of relief. His hair was the color or burning embers, cut in a fashionable style beneath the dried gore. Quickly Windsong had searched the corpse, coming up with nothing. Quickly she slipped into the bushes on the side of the road, gesturing quickly as magic wrapped around her. It felt like cold water against her skin as it wrapped around her, concealing her from sight.

There were spells that could be used to make a body explode, she had seen several that had been used in such a way to achieve that end. But that particular method rang strongly of necromancy. A deliberate and premeditated act. Necromancy was a foul and twisted magic. Windsong was a master of Divination and had once been a practitioner of the fel-based arts.

But what she had practiced then was for her own survival and that  contributed to helping her people. But what she had seen was simply murder by magic most foul. She was a dedicated mage for Quel’thalas. She wasn’t going to let fear affect her nor would she turn tail and head back to Silvermoon.

Windsong focused on the crystal in her hand, peering through it. The world through it was grey and seemed to wobble, tilting this way and that. Safely hidden, wrapped in her magic, she looked through the crystal searching.

Though their territory had been reclaimed and the borders guarded, several ghost towns and haunt spots were easy to find. In some places the forests had grown, crawling over once thriving cities and swallowing the corpses that littered the street. It had taken careful weeks of planning and countless hours squinting and muttering spells to find what she needed.

“I’ll have a new body for you.” She had promised Alexander casually as if finding a body was as easy as going to the market and shopping for it. It was a doozy of a thing to shop for and with most people unwilling to part with their body it left very few options on the table.

Outright murder was out of the question so it fell down to careful searching for the right soon to be dead man. Not just any dead man- it had  to be a crime deserving of execution and they had to be unknown.

Technically still murder.

But one that served two purposes- bettering Silvermoon by removing an unsightly pimple from her visage and finding Alexander a body that wasn’t missing an already stolen kidney. Maybe New Alex- as she had taken to calling the man, had gotten involved in something dark for the intent of helping the greater good. The darker schools of magic were often sought after by those who desired the tantalizing promise of power or wealth. Those magic users often sought out places to seclude themselves as they practiced. As if it made a difference.

The village had long been left to the forest and would likely remain a grave. A tribute to those that had died at the hands of the scourge. The breeze that blew through the village was crisp and made her draw closer to the shadows. The buildings that remained standing in the once bustling trade village were stubbornly remaining up, refusing to yield to time. Grass grew taller than she did with vines growing up the blue homes. Moving close to what had once been the inn she spotted something that gleamed. Quietly she picked it up. It was a rusting stiletto, the blade still wickedly sharp. It was thin enough that it was hidden when she tucked it into her jacket.

Finding a corner she lifted her crystal and peered through it. The world grew grey and wobbly once more. Using this spell without the crystal gave a migraine that lasted for days. But looking through the crystal was far easier.

Illusions were easily seen in the crystal. The rest of the world was bland and grey but when she spotted magic it lit up, glowing brightly in a dull world. A sense of not-quite-empty pulled at her as she searched. “Found you~” She cooed softly as a trail of blue lit the way towards the ruined Farstrider building.

Sliding the crystal away she crept closer to the building. It felt profane to step onto these streets, like she was disturbing not only the dead but rubbing in that she was alive and they were not. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a see-through form come into existence. Something was aware she was here, even if she was unseen.

She moved faster as she heard the creaking of trees and dead leaves tumbling over the ground. The smell of fresh rot came to her nose and it grew stronger. The ruined door had been used several times recently. The dirt and vines on the stone had been cleared away and the door’s hinges showed signs repair over the years. She peered through her crystal as she grabbed the door handle.  Traces so recent they were still vivid colors. Wild colors that all pointed towards the same dark magic that was on the corpse. There was little to be found outside and as Windsong turned she could see a slow walking High Elf down the street. Her form was faded like a ghost,face torn  to tattered shreds and missing a large chunk of her chest her hands clenching onto a small bundle of cloth. The cloth- she refused to think of what it really was- was stained in rust-red and the spirit seemed to look left and right, not just seeking but searching.

Windsong wasn’t a kind person but before she pulled the handle and slipped into the building she repeated a silent prayer for the ghosts. It wasn’t a fate she would have wished on anyone to die in confusion and hysteria. But right now she was hunting.