“He did not flinch when six swords swung down at him or when a demon screamed in his face. The young elf stood tall and held his ground. To take the path of the Altruist is hard. Harder so when you’re as young as Adrianal and Arae. But Arae knew where his path lead when he followed us deep into the dark dungeons. He knew and he did not fear, for where he walked he brought the Light with him.”
Name one thing your character has lied to themselves about. Why did they do this?
Looking forward to what you guys create!
The price of leaving was higher than he could have expected
and paid in full at the cost of his voice. There was so much more gained than
lost, but he had to bear witness to the loss of lives that came with his
service and duty to this foreign nation. Within the tiny apartment he was
granted, Araedriel sat alone and faced a portrait of a woman. She seemed happy
and in her arms, a child no older than 10 with a smile upon his face as well.
“I know this isn’t what you would have wanted for me, but
this is what—“ He stopped and sighed, folded his legs and put his hands in his
lap.
The words caught in his throat and even though he knew there
was no admonishment for what he would say, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
His blue eyes wandered from the picture and stopped at the gorget that hung upon
the wall next to his robe and suddenly a warm feeling filled his stomach. Even
in the fading light, he could make out the detail work upon it.
Tyleril.
The smell of flowers wafted into the room along the breeze
that passed by from an open window. Long before he had stepped foot in this
tiny space, another had come along to make sure he would be comfortable.
Flowers of gold and brightest bloom were dotted on his windowsill and next to
his bed. Upon that same nightstand lay a little golden rose necklace. Given to
him by a little girl with a smile as sweet as honey, her last words to him came
back as loudly as if she were standing there with him.
Silvii, Reynllin.
“This is what I wanted.” He finally said and smiled once more
at the portrait across the room, “I’m sorry, Mama. Really I am, but I am happy. That’s what you would have wanted, right?”
Sent to @varae-ver-you-are. A gorget made with mithril- light and easy to wear beneath the mender’s robes as a added layer of protection. The edges of the plate are inscribed with a prayer for protection. It glows faintly with a Light that bring to mind the Mender’s halo and one might catch the occasional, brief smell of smoke as if he wasn’t far off.
Araedriel,
I’ve come to grow more fond of you as time has come on. You’ve grown so much in your short time here and I hope to continue to watch as you go in the future. I made this in my own forges- if I got the size of your shoulders wrong please tell me and don’t forget to wear padding beneath it- never against bare skin.
You make me proud and one day you’ll be someone very important, I’m sure of it. Keep your head high, never be afraid to admit you made a mistake, and always ask if you have a question. Most importantly never forget to follow the Light and trust where it leads you.
Happy Winter’s Veil,
Tyleril
A Father’s love
“He prayed to the Light, hands held to his heart as he beseeched it to bestow even a ounce of protection to someone he’d come to love as a son. Some of his halo’s glow had faded that day but the armor would forever keep what the halo had lost.”
The ladder creaked slightly and the feet on the ladder step seemed to tremble. Tyleril held his hands out, watching carefully as Araedriel decorated the entryway to the infirmary. He wondered if it was wise to let Araedriel onto such a high ladder as it wobbled again. He cast his eyes over the rest of the infirmary. So far they had done very well. Colored paper and shint baubles decorated the walls. out of reach but colorful and festive for any patients that were there.
The ladder wobbled again.
“Arae, be careful.” Tyleril cautioned and held onto the ladder, hands on it to try and stop it. “i’m fine! Almost done!” Holding the string Araedriel began to use string to tie a sprig of mistletoe above the entryway.
“What do you think?” Tyleril hadn’t had the heart to tell Arae what it had meant when the sprigs had first been found. But when asked the question he felt like had to. “M-mistletoe is pretty, I don’t think anyone will kiss under it though. Not when they’re coming into the infirmary anyway. Humans decorate their Winter Veil doorways with it. Dwarves to, I’m sure.”
Ouron Nethermoon’s soul has returned to his body. Despite mine and Araedriel’s blessings it seems that his mind is still damaged and Ouron’s soul weakened greatly.
Araedriel will do what he can for both- but a shadow mender who knows the mind far better than I will likely be able to help Ouron far more now. At the moment Ouron seems able to do little more than grasp Araedriel’s arm and speak garbled words.
This place was as far from home as the moons that floated in the heavens far above. He had crossed the sea aboard great ships and landed upon soil that was completely foreign. The earth was the color of rust and cried clay and smelled like it hadn’t rained in heavens knows how long.
There was green– just outside of the gates that were pocked with arrows and guards who seemed wary of anyone who came close to them. This place was so strange. It was alive, yet, felt dead. There was a feeling of dread that hung in the air like a thick cloud of smoke that wouldn’t abate.
Araedriel had made himself useful within the healing tents and covering the soldiers that were fortunate to return from the battles that had become as a plague to Orgrimmar. Still, there was a voice that bit at the back of his mind. There was regret and sadness he couldn’t lift.
Tyleril Silversword 
