Tag: khal

The Felmancer’s Apprentice: Faith and Devotion

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“Just like this.” His Father had promised, taking a step forward. The water was so deep Samiel couldn’t find the bottom or see what swam below the innocuous seeming waters. But things lurked  where the eyes could not follow. As Tyleril began to fall off the stone Samiel rushed to the edge, reaching for the pale ribbons of his Father’s robes.

He only ‘fell’ a few inches, standing atop the water as if glass was beneath his leather boots. With a pleased sigh Tyleril turned to offer his hand to Samiel. It took a few tries but Tyleril managed to force out the sounds his voice tried to deny him. “W-want to try Samiel?”  

He looked to his Father’s boots again. The leather that made them up was kept well polished and clean, brass buckles and buttons polished to a dull shine. The edges of his father’s robes stopped just at the ankles, not hindering Tyleril’s movement thanks to the long slits on the sides. But beneath Tyleril’s foot the water remained undisturbed, even as Samiel saw his feet shift before he rolled his shoulders.

He hesitated as he reached out to grab onto Tyleril’s hand. Thickly calloused with fingers shaped by centuries of smithy work. Samiel felt Tyleril pause, then grasp his smaller hand firmly. He took one step backwards, then another stretching out the distance between them. 

“It’ll be fine.” He promised.

The words hung in the air as Samiel debated. 

Light, please. He wanted to do this. He wanted to this badly. This was a skill he wanted. He had no reason for wanting it beyond that he did. But now…

What to say to something like the Light? To gain some sort of favor from a higher power? Samiel didn’t know and Tyleril didn’t offer. It was stupid. It was so stupid to believe in the Light to the point Pop did…

Please. He sent the thought out and without further debate he stepped forward with haste. Please let me levitate like Pop. He felt himself fall but that was fine so did Pop.

Then ocean water soaked his shoes a moment before Tyleril’s hands slid beneath his shoulders to lift him up quickly. “Not bad.” He offered an encouraging smile as Samiel flushed. “W-want to try again?”  Tyleril still levitated above the water with apparent ease as he set Samiel back on land.

“If you want the Light to respond S-samiel you have to believe. You have to w-want it.”

“If it doesn’t come when I ask for it to then it’s kind of stupid isn’t it?” It had not been the first time Samiel had attempted to call on the Light. But rather the latest in one of several frustrated attempts. 

“I could give you the lecture on faith and devotion but the s-simplest answer is you have to believe, you have to want it and you need the w-willpower to control it. I could tell you that sunstrider iced tea was the f-finest liqour mix available- but until you’re able to try liqour for yourself it might as w-well be a pretty drink or a picture. A figment of the imagination.” Tyleril shrugged as Samiel scoweled. 

“I’m not old enough to drink.”

“I meant that if you want it you need the willpower to use it. If you want to make it s-stronger then you need belief. Belief that it is there and devotion to whatever cause you s-serve.” The halo shimmered over his Father’s head, letting go a handful of light sparks that slowly fell down to be swallowed by the ocean.

“The Blood Knights can use it without needing to believe.”

Tyleril nodded. “They can, yes. But that requires training. As T-thallus could tell you it is not the s-sort of training they give children, nor the s-same sort that they give any blood elf. To become a Blood Knight is far more difficult than many things in Silvermoon- they’re the elite. Like the Farstriders they do not command respect for no reason. I’ve l-little doubt Thallus could do much with the Light. But what he does and what I do are different.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. But as Tyleril stepped onto ground once more to prepare to go home Samiel eyed him, curiously watching. 

“Does everyone else just dedicate themselves?”

“To a cause. To a thing better than themself. Yes. But the Light can be used by anyone. You can reject it but…” Tyleril’s eyes moved to Samiel. “When you’re so talented with the arcane w-why go to the Light?”

“You think so?”

“Oh, of course. You can already do ah..portals? Portling?”

“Portals! Khal is teaching me.”

“Oh. How w-wonderfully kind. And you can do the s-spitefire.”

“Dragonfire! Sort of. I got grounded for it, remember?Uncle Cel sent me with extra homework.”

Samiel’s irritation faded as Tyleril innocently asked questions. Easy, stupid questions. But ones Samiel was happy to answer all the same.

“And Laz can do the ahhh, s-spitefire to?”

“No, he can do the ice missiles.”

“Oh, the arcane s-spells.”

“No! Pop. They’re like this…”

@shampoocommercialelves and @crystal-pyre for brief mentions

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shampoocommercialelves:

“Will I see you again, or will this night end as a fond memory in the making?”

“I am resolved in my decision to see you cleansed and renewed. And I must….study, this. I must learn more before I come to a conclusion. I cannot risk taking you into the Nexus and simply having you burn away. Whatever you felt from me, the Nexus is the eye of magic itself, far stronger than anything I can produce, and older than even the Shal’dorei themselves.“ 

"It would be my luck to burn to nothing at the moment of my salvation.”

He slammed the book before him shut, a growl inhuman rumbling from his throat. Nothing. Again, nothing. For the first time the library of Dalaran had failed him, and the shame of failure was not an emotion Khalithagos was used to. 

He cast an angry glare at the bookshelves that surrounded him, finding equal fault in the Kirin Tors inability to house one decent book that discussed the nature of fel corruption. The restricted section, which had proven ridiculously easy to break the wards of that protected the entrance, had not offered up anything of use either save one long passage in a tome ‘Of Magycks Most Foul and Corruptable’ that looked older than Alexstraza.

‘Ov Fel, most evile of magycks, it is considered a topic not to be discussed among cyvilized scholars. For fel is, ov all thyngs, a most corruptable energy that overpowers all it touches’.

Why bother to mention it then if all it said was ‘fel is bad’? “Water is wet, fire is hot.” He shoved the book aside as he mocked the thing in a scathing undertone and looked to the piles of tomes that surrounded him. He must have pulled near every book off of the shelf by now and had no desire to sort them back into their appropriate spots merely out of digust and spite. Forbiddon knowledge indeed. ‘Prudences Guide to 101 Sex Postions for the Chaste’ had more forbiddon knowledge than the books around him.

Aside from his rather mandatory excursion into the Dragonblight to renew himself,  the day had afforded him nothing. He slapped the tabletop and continued to scowl most heavily at the book before him. Loathe though he was to admit it, he may need..ugh…help on the matter.

The quill, ink and parchment were easy enough to conjure, and the letter, while short and to the point, was deliberately left polite.

Scion-

I require your assistance and knowledge on a subject most delicate and sensitive in nature that you are yourself well versed with. I feel you are more than capable than many on the subject as your lecture on the arcane and your answers for the subsequent questions were well spoken and indeed, well thought out. 

I am curently employed in the Ivory Spire and would appreciate time given to address this subject face to face as I believe a meeting is long overdue.

This letter will cease to exist once you have finished reading it.

Khalithagos’.

He finished the letter and folded it with care. The paper sealed itself tightly before it dissolved into so much arcane dust and was ripped away in an invisible wind.

Sighing he pushed himself up from the chair and left the library, repairing the so called wards behind him as he left. Let the lack of knowledge inside be the reason for the librarians to file the books back themselves. Restricted knowledge indeed.

@cynfuldax

Winter’s Veil

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Two letters and gifts send to Khalithas and Laz from Tyleril and Samiel respectivly.

Tyleril’s gift to Khalithas is an old crumbling volumne that he’s clearly made attempts to  keep maintained over the long decades but multiple readings have undone every inch of his work no matter how hard he’s tried to keep it bound. The heavy book is delivered by a courier struggling to pull it free from his bag.

Khal,

You’re often busy but the kindness you do do not go unnoticed. The book for my son, watching how you make Rey;s eyes light up, and your presence is always appreciated. You’re the calm in the storm, unless Samiel ties your hair in a ponytail and when you were waiting for Ruby’s egg to hatch you reminded me of those armoured, scaley snakes in the tropical isles. It’s a shame you can’t be  more dragon-like often- i find your eyes very beautiful and your blue scales lovely.

Laz spends time at the forges now and it’s always nice to see him when he comes. I appreciate the chatter he brings and the conversations with you. Admittedly I don’t understand fashion. I know colors stay together and to buy whatever the tailor suggests that isn’t outrageous.  But I enjoy your commentary and listening as you and Rey discuss those things.

I bought this book when I was very young. It was over five hundred pages of ‘fashion’ that the Kirin Tor and other mages found to be the most fashionable styles. Admittedly the book is a century or three old by now and I still have not gleaned anything from the first time I opened its pages.

But if anyone will like it and take good care of such a thing you would. I hope this gift, while not the expensive one you deserve, reminds you that I appreciate seeing you and chatting when we do. I don’t imagine it’s easy to share your lover but you do it with grace and dignity that I’ve come to expect from you.

Happy Winter’s Veil,

Tyleril Silversword

Sent to Laz , a small box with a lightforged necklace wrapped in cloth with a letter from Samiel. Having given his father his money for a necklace that was, for the twelve year old, astronomically out of his price range.His handwriting is oddly sloppy in the letter- a sign of his nervousness perhaps?

Laz,

I got you one of Pop’s Lightforged necklaces for WInter’s Veil. It reminded me of your scales when you change back to a whelpling. I went to the beach and pop helped me find pearls that were the same color as your vest your wore on tuesday. 

If you want to Pop says Catriah’s Dad left us with five huge ducks and got Buttons s ham. We can steal a duck and watch people celebrate Winter’s Veil or whatever. If you don’t want to that’s fine.

Samiel Silversword

@shampoocommercialelves

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shampoocommercialelves:

The blue dragon arrived at night when everyone was sleeping and all other mourners had gone. It was easier for him that way. Asleep, no one could see how heavily grief hung on him and weighed down his shoulders. They couldn’t hear how hoarse his voice was when he spoke or see the tear tracks that marked his otherwise expressionless but perfectly shaped face. His movements that were usually meant to capture and hold the attention of others were subdued, stilled in the heaviness of sorrow.

He could hear the heavy, labored breathing of the injured but healing as they lay in restless and nightmare fueled sleep in silent agony. How many had been injured, how many had been killed he could not say, but the burst of magic that had emanated from the center of the Dawnspire had been hard to ignore even from where he sat within the Ivory Spire. The magic had pulled him mind and body out of the sanctuary that was the great library, but it was the hushed words of the great still form of the dragon that had drawn him here to this place of pain and healing.

He pushed open the doors of the infirmary. His footsteps were ghostly silent, the sound of his moving robes a passing whisper in the night. Here and there as he passed a cot, those laying in them would shiver as the cold chill that always followed the dragon passed over them. It would be gone come the morrow but for the moment the chill of winter settled through the building, provided some relief for the few that felt the stifling heat of so many bodies pressed together. With pure intent and purpose he passed over the bodies of others and made his way towards the golden mane of hair that could only belong to Felo’thore.

Felo’thore. Flamboyant and lovely, an icon of fashion and good taste. Now the scar that stretched across his face and marred it was gruesome and unbecoming on the magi turned druid. Where his jaw had broken and lips split the skin had swelled and bruised in a way that made him almost unrecognizable. At his side and curled around him with hands clinging to the lithe and limber body was a much larger man with a face dusted in freckles and hair as curly and wild as a lions mane. His husband surely, for no one that was merely a friend could look so awake with grief even while asleep.

‘ You at twenty-five hundred years old, you will be cranky. But you will be stronger and far wiser. You will see ancient trees grow from seed to root and maturity and watch the titans of forests grow old and die.  You will know the hearts of all wild places, and the wolves will pass your names down to their descendants where you will be nothing more than myth.’

Now the man lay trapped in dreams and a magic that not even a child of the Spellweaver could pull him from. The future the dragon had so lightly spoken of may never come to pass.

He knelt down beside the cot and with the barest brush of fingers pushed back blood stained hair from Felo’thores face to deliver a cool kiss to the burning skin of his forehead. The dragon stood, turned, and moved on. Where his feet stepped unnatural fog formed and spread across the floor as that which remained hidden could reveal itself. It followed him outside where now he could see the huge and still form that was the red dragon laying on its side.

Reynllinstraz. Nine thousand years old. Ancient. Beautiful. Charming and charismatic. A good friend. Companion.

Dead.

The snow had already begun to fall in earnest where it rarely snowed in Quel’thalas, and the ground soon frosted over wherever the thick white flakes fell. Sounds of footsteps of the already fallen snow echoed behind him. Although the figure was not close…the warmth of the sun was undoubtedly intense. Where she stepped the snow and frost melted from the heat only to quickly form again as she moved on.

“Mother….go back to bed. Father will be home soon.”  Her voice was a whisper he could still hear clearly. She appeared to be an adult now where she had been a child before. Time was short now. Too short.

“Sil’vii. You should know better than to think that I will leave.” He turned back to face the woman, his brows knit slightly as he took her in. In her mortal form she was the perfect mix of Reynllin and himself. Pale skin, delicate features, golden of hair, and nothing like himself save for how she looked. “What are you doing out here, child?”

“….I came to say my goodbyes.” was all she could manage to tell him. Her cheeks were wet…it seems as though she had been here all day telling people the same she had been telling him. “..Mother I…I won’t be coming home. I’m bringing father back..we…we talked about this day..before you came along.” Her hands were starting to glow, but in a failed effort she hides them quickly in her robes sleeves. “I’m sorry we never got to tell you sooner….”

‘Mother’. It as a word even in his other self that he was unfamiliar with and it put an ache into his chest to hear the soul of the red dragon say it so genuinely. “Don’t be.” He stepped towards her and ran both hands down the length of her golden hair, trying to comfort her as much as he could. “You are still so young. Is there no other way, Sil’vii?”

The young woman peered down and sighs. “I’ve already changed….I’m already an adult…as beautiful as it is…I wasn’t meant to live like you. I came from father on the evening Deathwing died…when the Soul was shattered I was born. It was meant to be…but…” slowly she walks over, reaching out her hands to feel Khal’s touch one last time. “I’m happy for the years I was given under father’s wing.”

He squeezed her hands and forced himself to voice his question. “Do you want me to leave?”

She hesitated before answering him. “…..Please?…I don’t want anyone to see…he’ll be back in the morning.” Her hands were growing uncomfortably warmer now. “Promise to keep him happy?”

“I’ll do everything I can, Sil’vii.” He cupped her chin and gently pulled her face up to look at his and, as with the druid, planted a kiss on her forehead. He squeezed her hands one last time and then dropped them as he turned back towards the infirmary. Perhaps it was cold to not even spare her a goodbye but he had no time for useless words. She had her part to play.

So too did he.

In the same silence as he had arrived the dragon departed, leaving nothing behind but the chill mist that settled on the sleepers inside the building, the frost covered ground and the snow. It would be the only signs that had ever been there, and they would be gone come the morning. Some might have heard the sounds of enormous beating wings that flew quickly overhead, but none would see the form in flight they belonged to.

He would mourn in his own way, and there were still demons that lingered in the land left to kill.

(( tagging @brothersemberfell @teamdoodledork @ocarina-of-what for mentions)) 

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shampoocommercialelves:

as tagged by @tyleril-silversword for Aestus and Khalithas

ELEMENT 

Aestus: At his core, Aestus is probably the nicest guy with no ulterior motive one could meet, and he thinks he owes that to his honest nature. Friendly, loyal, dedicated, always willing to do the good for another without expecting anything in return are his strongest virtues as well as some of his largest flaws. He feels he has a lot to live up to, not only because of the House name he inherited from his grandfather Aesterian but also the beliefs and morals that make up his code of conduct. He believes in courage, honesty, compassion, respect and being the best he can be and tries to be, but often feels his efforts aren’t ‘enough’. This usually ends up with him feeling disappointed at himself, something he tends to hide behind a smile and a ‘I’ll try harder’ attitude.

Khalithas: Beneath the calculating mind of the dragon, Khalithagos or Khaltihas as he’s usually known is loving and parental, if not a bit terrified at the possibility of the future. His race is all but extinct, numbers dwindling, the power of the Aspects and all dragons dwindled. He feels the loss of his flight profoundly, and uses the fear of becoming nothing more than a legend in a story to fuel his ambitions. On the surface he appears genial but cool, a calculating elf that uses people and situations to his advantage. In truth he longs for and fears nothing more than a real connection. He is dedicated and utterly protective of his ‘little brother’ Lazuligos, and considers his own life to be worth nothing if his brothers life is not -everything-.

HUMBLE

Aestus: Praise is appreciated, but unnecessary. Often with praise he tries to turn it towards luck rather than skill, and in a group effort takes the praise and doles it out to others as a group effort rather than as anything he himself did. To get this paladin to accept open and honest praise can sometimes be a chore.

Khalithas: Two words: “I know.”

GOD

Aestus: He is open to the idea of god, gods or ‘God’, but his faith is in the Light. To him it’s not just an idea, but a philosophy and a way of thinking and living. He believes in the three virtues of the Light and tries to live them to his own expense and the mockery of others, Blood Knights of a certain age more specifically. This does not and has not moved him from how he worships, thinks or conducts himself, however. ‘For if you forgive men their trespasses, Heavenly Father (The Light) will also forgive you’. 

Khalithas: “I have no god, which is a mortal way of thinking. But I had an Aspect, a paragon of what we could have striven to be. He is dead now, and all that he was to us was stripped in his madness. It was taken from him, and it was taken from us. He is dead now, and if I can no longer be what I once seen as perfection, then what else is there to be?”

Lust and Waiting!

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shampoocommercialelves:

L- Lust- what they lust after in life

(simple answer)

Aestus: comfort and stability. Even though he technically never wanted for anything as a child (room, a house to live in, three square meals a day, a good education, etc) very rarely did he ever feel comfortable in the house. The ever looming presence of his overbearing father and rather submissive, quiet mother was always unsettling. He never felt right in his place or his skin. He would one day like to be comfortable in both. 

He also yearns for stability. He knows he will not get it as a solider since the lifestyle can change from day to day, but in the long run he wants nothing more. Having past his first century he is seeking out a place to settle and call his own in the way of land and estate. This is both for himself and, at the present, for his mother as well. He feels it would be best to allow her a safe place to stay, if not just to let her get away from her husband for a while.

In the long run he wishes to have a place to settle down and possibly raise a family, if a family is even in his future. 

Khalithas: fortune, family and future. Fortune goes without saying, as he believes money makes the world go round. The most comfort can be made with a fortune, and money is easy to get for a magically gifted blue dragon.

However all he does he does mostly for his brother, Lazuligos (Laz). He is painfully aware of how few dragons there are in the world anymore what with the fall of Deathwing and the passing of power from the aspects. Khalithas will lie, steal, cheat, seduce, blackmail,power play, bribe, kill, maim and more anyone or anything he has to ensure his brothers survival. This includes anyone that may have already earned his trust.

Almost more than that he wants a family. He has committed himself to only mating another dragon as it is the only way for him to have whelps of his own (and mortal lives are far too short). 

W- Waiting- how good they are at waiting on something/someone

(short story answer)

“They say that the war will be over in six months. Are you excited?” Ellia leaned over him, her blue eyes lit up above an expectant smile. 

“Who’s ‘they’ and what makes them think so?” The fallen snow that had dusted her walnut brown hair was falling into his face where his head lay in her lap, leaving behind small and freezing cold patches of water as it melted. He tugged at the end of those brown locks, her own smaller hands threaded into his hair. It was a rare day that the two of them could spend any time together, and he was sure even this brief respite couldn’t be long lived. It was all they could do to be in the same room as the end of the war approached and the fighting intensified, to stand on opposite ends of the hall and lock eyes without doing more to acknowledge the other.

“The Highlord. I heard it from one of the blacksmiths that Fordring had clearly said ‘it’s a matter of months before this war is over’.”

“A ‘matter of months’ is not six months.”

“It had better be six months! The new year starts by then and I had planned on a spring wedding.”

“Oh? Who’s the lucky man?” Aestus scrunched his nose as she pressed her palm against it, flattening it with a huff.

“Some disgusting Blood elf, I’ll have you know. I’d met him a year before and this loser proposed to me two months ago while he was covered in undead gore, which is, by the way, really NOT romantic.” 

“He sounds like a keeper. I’d marry a paladin that proposed to me covered in the gore of the undead. He’d probably like me better anyway than some snooty high elf.”

“You’re not that narcissistic, Aestus.”

“Do you take me to be your awfully wedded husband, Aestus? I do. Do you take me to be your awfully wedded husband, me? I do. I pronounce me man and man. What a beautiful couple.”

“Why do I love you.”

“The thing I’ve been asking myself for over a year.”

“What are you the most excited about? The end of the war, moving to Stormwind with me and becoming, gasp, a filthy Alliance citizen or the wedding?” Ellia raised her brows, pursing her lips in a way that told him she had better hear the answer she was expecting to.

“Yes.”

Ellia rolled her eyes and leaned down closer, pressing cold lips to his own. “Six months.” It was a whisper and a prayer. 

There was no one to hear prayers in Northrend.

((tagging @ocarina-of-what , thanks for the ask!))