The Felmancer’s Apprentice: Faith and Devotion

“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

Heather Lavender, Stock, Anemone ( Lighter ), Orange Rose , Queen Anne’s Lace- wrapped together and put into Thallus’s hands or in a jar on his table. 🔮💡

shampoocommercialelves:

Thallus stared down at the vase of flowers on the table, eyes narrowing as he took in the almost too sweet smell. “Windsong..” He gave a grunt and picked up the jar to examine the impromptu bouquet. “You need to stop leaving this shit at my work.”

(( @tyleril-silversword ))

Bitter: Pretending

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Today I sat and watched you for a while. You’re an enigma to me now. Someone I once knew so well who became as distant as Argus. A star in the sky that i can see but never touch. I watched you work, shop in the Bazaar- strange how you do not linger in our old haunts- and at the end of the day you went to his grave. Both of their graves. First to your friend’s and then to our brother’s grave. Strange how, in death, They have become saints, absolved of all sins and you’ve become their most devout worshiper. It does not matter you do not know how they died or why- they became more precious now. I saw you toss my flowers away, clean away the dried offering of blood droplets left at the foot of our brother’s grave. 

You didn’t listen the first time I explained them to you so I suppose the offerings I leave are clutter and trash for you.  I kept waiting for it to sting and wound me. But it doesn’t bother me in the same way now. A mild irritation rather than a bleeding wound you left when you stepped out of my life. You called me a monster.

I agreed with you. I knew what I did and I know what I will continue to do.

I have a room mate now. Another of Tyleril’s friends. It’s interesting watching him. One day it’ll kill him to keep giving and pushing so much, to be so kind and hide so much pain. He breathes in broken glass and it stays in his chest, never quite healing and waiting for the right moment to hurt anew. He needs to find a way to get them out. His friend is fine. Quiet. I do not mind him and in turn he allows me to be. I have kept the apartment stocked with more food now and coffee. Menders seems to need coffee or tea to survive all they do.  Tyleril’s friend hides secrets of his own, but we have an unspoken and silent agreement not to pry into the other to much. 

He is quiet. Reassuring as it is to hear the sound of his limping. The few days of the week that I stay at my apartment now I do not worry as much over sleep. Ensuring the windows and door is blocked, spelled, and can withstand attacks. Having someone else there is an assurance that should the undead come again I will hear it.

You left the Isle after you had thrown away my offering to the dead,snapped open your umbrella when the rain began to pour. You were not paying attention to the rooftop of the three story mansion you passed. I sat on top of the roof and this time, I let you go. You disappeared in sheets of rain and thunder. When you were well and truly gone I slipped off the roof and blinked to the ground. I stay here now. Inside dust and old memories fill the home. A family used to be here but the Scourge took them to, just like they took away our brother. I see the family portraits on the walls, left for time and dust to consume.

I leave them offerings. It is not my house and the man I sleep with in of it is someone dear to them. I leave coins and offerings of flowers and incense. It has tempted me many times to find their bedrooms and see what they were like. But, like the house it is also not my room so I abstain. I have cleaned the kitchen and the hallway, the bedroom and the rest of the areas that are frequently used. Barely three rooms, four if the hallway and bathroom count. Sometimes i come here early or stay while he leaves. It’s nice to see the door open and his scowling rain soaked form comes into the house. He irritates me, I irritate him. We go back and forth. Sometimes he eases up and falls into silence and other times it ends with dinner forgotten.

I look forward to this to much and the days I am not there I miss the reassurance someone is watching. Strange isn’t it? Sometimes I feel happy and not annoyed to see him.

I have been considering. I don’t think you’ll talk to me again. I don’t want to spend time watching you and knowing that either. So that time was the last. I like this ruined house with it’s guardian- the tall and crumbling knight. I like my apartment with the limping mender. If this is what it is to be a monster than I will take it.

You will never get this letter before I burn it. But I hope you know I’ve never once wished you ill. I hope wherever you end up you will do well. Maybe someday we can speak without rancor. Maybe. But until then I will stop pretending and accept reality for what it is.

Love,

Your older Twin

Winter’s Veil

A small box of food filled with steak, garlic and other herbs for food seasoning, already packed away and a small jar filled with a reddish- orange paste that’s left on Thallus’s kitchen counter. A note is left atop the counter.

Thallus,

I got food and proper seasonings. You’ll notice there’s garlic and other dry things to eat with. Don’t throw them away and put the meat in the icebox. I can get potatoes or something and we’ll make something nice for dinner.

The jar has heating cream for your muscles. With all the yelling you do at the recruits you’re not far from straining something. I don’t celebrate this stupid holiday but it’ll be nice to get an evening off.

-Windsong

@shampoocommercialelves

Legionfall Finale: Windsong

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Before the End

“Y-you’ll be fine?” It had been a decade since she had fought in battle. A real battle and the worry for  her health was already etched on the tall mender’s face.

“Me?” She let her lips pull upwards into a confident smirk. “Tyleril, please. When was the last time I told you I would die?”

He shook his head and she could smell the incense he was so fond of burning. It clung to his clothes as much as the smell of armor polish and smithy smoke. “You haven’t yet. But I-” Windsong waved her hand, dismissing his words before he could finish. “You’re going to the main gate aren’t you? Better get going. I have demons to kill.”  Windsong didn’t believe in the Light, she didn’t care for it. But she stood still as Tyleril prayed a blessing over her anyway. “Stop caring so much- you’ll hurt yourself dumbass.”

But Tyleril didn’t respond and Windsong let her smile drop as the mender walked away. The urge to see whether he would manage to survive the battle was strong- but she dismissed it. If the Light really gave a damn then it would take the time to help Tyleril survive.

They were all gears in a machine. Running off to save one person would affect every other cog. She ran her tongue over her lips, tasting the lipstick. It drew a grin from her as she strode towards  where her army was. “Let’s see if I manage to make it.”

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‘FOR QUEL’THALAS’

Despite the care her hair had fallen free of the ties that bound it and had been soaked in sweat. It ran down her face, making her eyes and the bleeding cuts sting like tiny rattlesnake bites. All around her was nothing but a whirlwind of color and motion, the countless infinite possibilities of what they could, would, maybe and might-do. She saw so much, so many possibilities. Such precious short time to react, even shorter with the magisters that were under her command, forcing her to snap out orders. To many were going to die- she would at least try to keep her own safe.

With every pant that escaped her lips, she could taste smoke from the air that mixed with the bitter taste of her own blood. The deafening sound of her own heartbeat and blood rushing in her ears beat out a stubborn refusal to die. It wasn’t loud enough to drown out her allies, their cries of ‘Lok’tar ogar’  and Quel’thalas!’ intermixed with the sound of injured beasts screaming in pain, and the loud cracking thunder of magic from those beneath her command.

Pain from strained muscles and bleeding cuts barely registered, drowned out by the consuming throbbing ache from over use of her divining spell. The countless moving images she saw everywhere threatened to overwhelm her when she looked at others for to long. The magisters under her command spat out fire and ice, burnt flesh filling her nostrils as frozen blood clung to her clothes.The scent of blood mixed with the smell of smoke, bile, and fear, carried between the clashing bodies of the Sunguard’s army. Scarlet liquid bled from foe and ally alike, soaking the earth.

Death came from the sky on swift wings, praetorian lances, and the dangerous fel hounds. But through the countless possibilities that assaulted her eyes and mind she clung onto one. Victory. Even as physical and magical exhaustion took its toll, blurring the lines between reality and possibility she held onto that image.  


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‘Going Home’

Victory came.

It came long after her knees has first met the muddy ground and her remaining Magister was carried in her arms to the closest help. They would suffer through their broken leg and his face as Windsong carried him was stoic, head held high as she set him by the tent.

Limping she turned to look up at the Dawnspire, every breath burning her throat. The thickly embroidered cloth was soaked with mud and blood that had dried, clinging to her skin. When she swallowed she could taste the blood in the air, mixed with sorrow. Rather than look back at the Dawnspire or the remaining magister from her group she turned to stare in the direction of Silvermoon.

Exhaustion dulled the pain of sprained muscles and shallow cuts, helped her ignore the  bone dry rasp that escaped her throat. The – Dawnspire, was it the Dawnspire?  It was hard to see how much damage had been done. Somehow she was stuck inside of herself, viewing the world from somewhere deep inside. Her movements were so slow compared to everyone else.

The sounds of orders being snapped, boots on marble, and worried chatter were distant in her ears. Her allies moved around her as if their speed was enchaned by magic while she moved through cold mud. A portal came into sight as she rounded a corner, bright and inviting in her sight.

Thallus. 

The vivid scowl  in her mind was all that her body seemed to need to move. Thallus would be asleep by now. or would be be awake? Her head spun as her hands began to move, scraping deep inside of her whatever mana she couldn’t afford to spare, it made her soul tear and bleed as the world spun and disappeared in white light.

The battle was over and she could do no more.

It was time to head back home.

@shampoocommercialelves@thesunguardmg