mischief-incarnate

[mischief-incarnate]

Hard Facts

Nansa leaned against Ghalyn, the two sitting back-to-back.   Both exhausted to the point standing up felt like a near impossible task.   She casually flicked a now gooey piece of flesh from her leg plate, smearing it.  Not that it mattered.  She was covered in pieces of those they had been fighting.  

            “I don’t know how I am going to go look Ewan in the face now,” she muttered, her normally cheerful demeanor drug down into near despair.

            “He will understand.  It was very much our lives or theirs.  Remember Dracthyr were made for the sole purpose of killing.  They crossed over the line into enemy.  The situation was very much us or them, and I have spent far too long on this sentient rock of a planet to die to a bunch of treacherous scaley assholes,” the warlock growled.

            She sighed and touched the plume on her helm, much bedraggled after the fighting.  She twined it around her leather clad fingers idly as she took Ghalyn’s words.  “I suppose you are right.  It is exactly why he refused to come back, not to be what he was made to be.  I can not imagine living with the knowledge that I was made to simply kill.  Illidari made a choice to do so.   Sure the earlier Ebon were made against their will, but they are well not living.”

            “They do not feel as living do,”  Ghalyn said, turning his head enough to look partially over his shoulder at her.   Seeing the bright beaming smile gone, dimmed to a concerned frown he sighed.

            Ignoring the fact the paladin was covered in gore he turned and wrapped his arms around her armored form.  The gesture was what mattered, but at least he could press his cheek against hers.

            “It is easy for me to remember how young you are Nansa.  Well in moments like this.   I have lived far longer and experienced things I hope you never do.”

            She leaned against the snow white skinned Quel’dorei, closing her eyes.  “Thank you Ghalyn.  I can not imagine the things you have lived through.   So many friends you have lost,” she did not add loved ones, avoiding even the mention of that word considering how he had lost his wife years ago.

            “You go on.  The other options are completely unacceptable and not worth thought,” he replied reaching out as she fished her hip flask off her belt.  He took it from her and opened it with her eyes glued to his hands.  A quick sniff made him wrinkle his nose at the distinct odder of whiskey.  

She gasped as he began to pour out the hip flask.  Before she could move to stop him, his words stopped her, hard and cold.  “You are not turning to this crutch in my presence. Be angry if you want, but you have a personality that could easily end you at the bottom of a bottle consistently Nansa.”

Her hand fell back into her lap.  Atrianis had been adamant about that as well, chastising her about her habit of getting black out drunk.  She hated to admit it, but it was a mechanism of denial and running from her problems.

“You are right… and not the first friend to chastise me for it.   I just don’t want to think about the hard things.”

“No one does.  You find ways to accept what is and move on from it.  Sometimes there is no healthy way too, not right away.  I have the luxury of time you do not in the end.  I envy how brightly humans burn and their passions,”  Ghalyn replied before handing back her empty flask.   Then he handed over his waterskin filled with a fragrant herbal tea. 

She sighed and drank her fill before handing it back to him.  “You are nothing like your sister you know?   I still have trouble believing the two of you are related by your manners and looks.”

“Mmm, I am a couple centuries older than her for one.  She grew up in the Highlands while my parents and I trained the human magus.   I grew up among elves in our homeland.  As to looks, I was not always the crimson eyed pasty freak  you see now,” he chuckled.

She took her gloves off and traced the jaws of the tattoo on the side of his shaved skull.  “Nah, you are no freak.  Made some choices that marked you in a physical way is all.  Looking back at history I cannot say I blame you.  I mean my sister us a warlock.   Not all of you are Guldan after all.”

“True enough.  Though I promise you if my parents ever set eyes on me they would disown me on the spot.  For now they think I am long dead.  Ely and I both agree that is just for the best.   I despise them anyhow, and she finally understands why.”  He took back his skin and took a few swallows before rising to his feet gracefully, offering her a hand.

Nansa accepted his help and rose to her feet, the herbal mixture giving her a bit of energy back.   “So you never told me you knew how to handle blades.  You saved my life back there,”  she said calmly.

She was to heavily engaged by a pair of enemy Dracthyr to see another moving to flank her.  Ghalyn had snatched a blade from a fallen enemy, as his demons where engaged on another front, and launched himself into hand to hand combat with the would-be backstabber.

He shrugged, “Before I was this I was a Spell Breaker.   I remember well my lessons of the blades.   Let us get to a safe camp and rest Nansa.   We need rest and food, for we both know there will be more enemies to deal with soon enough.”

She nodded and snatched her helmet from the ground and buckling it in place.  “I could use a bit of food.” 

[mischief-incarnate]

Sometimes the Noble is Second Best

Day5 @daily-writing-challenge

(Not WoW once more. Disclaimer a bit of adult language and theme. This is a to be continued teaser of the bard Haru)

If there was one thing about Haru, he believed himself to be persistent when he wanted something.   For the first time in his life he found himself at a loss of just how to proceed, if he even should.

            He stood watching the fire haired beauty as she laughed up at her brother.   Dammit, why did Ghalyn’s sister have to be so… so delicious.   She was curvy and thick in all the right ways that made it difficult for him to think straight, but this was his best friend’s sister.   That was forbidden kitty right there, and it was killing him.

            He watched as she bounced up and down clapping her hands happily at something Ghalyn had said, and by the Sun God, Haru thought he was going to have heart failure watching everything bounce in ways that made his brain short circuit.

            Suddenly Ghalyn’s crimson eyes where not watching his sister with a gentleness Haru had never seen.  No, they were on him and there was certainly no gentleness in his gaze now.  It was pure warning causing Haru to look elsewhere instantly.   He felt his cheeks heat with the most foreign emotion, guilt.

            He could not just stand there, eye fucking the gorgeous, and very innocent sister of his bestie now could he.  “So while you two spend some time catching up I think I will go explore this town a bit,” he muttered.

            “Oh, I hope I did not upset you,” Ely breathed, her cornflower blue eyes widening in alarm.  “I know I have been taking all Ghalyn’s attention.  I do not want you feeling left out Haru!”

            Haru waved a hand, not daring to look back.  He doubted he could keep his eyes above her neck, and Ghalyn had absolutely noticed that fact.   “I am fine.  You two have years to catch up on.  I will meet you back at the inn this evening and maybe we can all play dice or something.”

            “That would be great,” Ely said happily.

            “It would be a lovely idea Ely.   Haru just needs to explore, stretch his legs, and get excess energy out I am sure,” Ghalyn said in a flat tone that let Haru know exactly what the man was really saying.  “Get the idea about bedding my sister out of your system.”

            Haru gave them a wave and a quick cheerful grin before hurrying off.

            He knew he had to distract himself as he walked along the dusty cobble streets of the crossroads town.  As he walked his silken white furred ears kept perked as he listened to people talk.  He glanced at a group of women chattering about a duchess being in town… oh really?

            He strolled up to them and grinned at them.  “Really is there a duchess in town?”

            The group eyed him, several of them giving him that look, one even licking her lips.   He made note, but duchess?  Oh, he needed to know about this.

            One nodded, “Yes Duchess Hawthorne is in town.”

            Haru chose his next words carefully to provoke an answer to a question without actually being so rude to ask it.  “Well I suppose it is interesting when some old noble comes to down.”

            There were several giggles.  The most vocal woman spoke again, “Oh Duchess Hawthorne is no old woman.  She is a legendary beauty.  Everyone knows all the noble men from kingdoms around via for her attention.”

            Oh that was an excellent answer, and now for the second question he had.  “I am sure her husband must keep a battalion of guards around her then.”

            More giggles and head shaking.  “She has no husband.   They say she has rejected many offers.  Men fall short of her expectations it is said.”

            Haru gave a little nod.  “Well, if she has wealth, power, and beauty I imagine so,” he flashed a grin.  “If you will excuse me, I must finish my business.”  He gave a little bow heading off.   How interesting.  Well, this duchess had never met him yet, had she?   She was about to and learn not all men would fall short.

            He ignored the voice that carried from one of the women, “What an odd Wolfen.”   The issue with being from the Lóng Jīnzi Empire and a Kitsune, no one knew what you were.  Though, truth be told that was a benefit as well.

            Haru pondered where he would find this duchess in town.  He thought about the inns but quickly concluded a woman of power would not bother with such a thing… so the mayor’s residence seemed the most logical.

            The bard wandered his way over towards the mayor’s estate in the more affluent area and sure enough he noticed guards with a livery that he had not seen in the town previously.

            Now the next step was to get her attention.  Haru decided he would focus all his frustrations on getting this duchess’ notice.  Some men coveted gold, some power, and others lands.  Not him, he coveted beautiful women and would dedicated his considerable energies into meeting this one.

[mischief-incarnate]

Does the Method Really Matter?

@daily-writing-challenge Day 4

(Disclaimer, once more not a WoW story, though as stated previously Cat had her start in Warcraft.)

                Cat sauntered into the sitting area of the quarters she shared with the ambassador, Flame Bearer Davyth Thornhold.   The man was the most annoyingly good and honorable person she had ever met.   He never bent the rules or even raised his voice, except in battle, but that was the only exception.

                It was almost unnerving how well he had accepted and handled the Leto prince just shoving them off and ignoring their pleas for an audience.   Davyth had good naturedly stated, “We will find a way to achieve an audience.  I will do a bit of socializing around the palace till I find the method we will use.”

                That entire calm and collected attitude had just made her need to do something, and that she had.   She was certain to her very soul Davyth would be displeased with her, and the look on his face as she shut the door behind her told that story.

                “What did you do Cat,” were the first words out of his mouth.

                “You just assume I did something,” she huffed at him.

                He tilted his head and gave her that critical look that told her this man was not buying any of her bullshit.  “Cat… I am not assuming a thing.  I know that smug look on your face… what did you do?”

                She rolled her lower lip between her teeth and looked down trying to master an innocent look.  “Nothing much really.”

                He groaned and ran a hand down his face, one she quite fancied with it’s sharp features, aristocratic nose that had been broke at least once, eyes as blue as a perfect spring sky, and most importantly that neatly trimmed golden beard she wanted to play with desperately.   Not that he would ever let her get that close.   “Nothing for you is almost always monumental.”

                “I had a chat with Prince Ewan.”

                The man froze and stared at her.  “We have travelled a great distance to exert some of our two kingdom’s influence in Leto for desperately needed war supplies.  Despite my credentials and sealed letters from both our kings, I could not get in to see him… WHAT DID YOU DO?”  

                The sudden panic in his voice made Cat flinch a bit.  She could handle the holy warrior’s anger, but the panic and worry on his face twisted her gut with guilt.

                “You do not want details Davyth… just accept the fact that he will be here to talk to you later,” she said in a tiny voice.

                Davyth stared hard at her for long enough to make Cat to feel as if it was an eternity.  Finally he sighed, “If you get me thrown in the dungeon or tossed out the kingdom you are explaining to the kings and other leaders exactly what you did to cause that.”

                Cat looked up at him from beneath her lashes.  “Davyth, have a little faith in me.   I only made him a little bit angry, but not that angry.”

                “Oh… a little bit,” he groaned.  “Eternal Flame save me from this woman.”

                At that moment there was a soft knock on the door.  “Prince Ewan Leto, may I please have a moment to speak with the Ambassador Thornhold?”

                Davyth just stared at Cat a moment, shook his head and walked over to open the door.  “Of course, your majesty.  I am honored and humbled to have your time.”

                Davyth bowed deeply and stepped aside.   Ewan strode in, and while Davyth had his back to them shutting the door he gave Cat a look that promised retribution later.  The moment Davyth turned back around Ewan had a congenial smile on his face and was shaking the man’s hand.  “I understand you are quite the decorated war hero Sir Thornhold.”

                Cat simply looked away, a smug smile on her face.  That was how you got things done.

[mischief-incarnate]

Hello Consequences of My Actions

Day 3 of @daily-writing-challenge

(Disclaimer, while Catamerly was my previous main in WoW, she is now in the world Zyltenia and this Cat is that iteration. Ewan I sometimes play as a Dracthyr, but his origin is firmly in this world.)

(WARNING, Adult language, vulgar wording, and sexual theme. Proceed with caution and 18 and up only!)

            Prince Ewan walked through the halls of the ancient Leto Palace.   Eons of his ancestors had walked these halls before him, each with their own story and purpose.  He spent a moment wondering how many of them were like him, hiding the secret he hid from most everyone except a chose few.   A secret that if it ever became known would make him a hunted man. 

            Not that he lived in fear, why would he?   He was after all a dragon, and even though part of him knew he should fear the Lóng Jīnzi Empire ever finding out about him, he did not.  They had after all nearly destroyed all the winged dragons in the primordial times, declaring dragons with wings where impure and must be purged.  Still, he was different he believed, and maybe that was arrogance, but he carried his mother’s blood as well.  Ancient blood that was easily as old as the Lóng Jīnzi, and the Leto magics were a terrifying thing when the right person was born.  He was that person this generation.

            He paused in front of the door to his personal study, making a face while chewing on his lower lip.  One large, strong hand ran through his curly chestnut hair in a gesture he often performed when he was deep in thought.  The curls wrapped around his long, graceful fingers, those where hands of the artisan he was.  Strong, graceful, and capable of creating works of art.  Never mind his works of art where often used to kill, but not all where the flintlocks he loved.  When the mood struck him he would spend hours painstakingly producing delicate jewelry any queen would be honored to own.  He was a man of many facets they said, and those wagging tongues where not wrong.  He blew out a long sigh, still hesitating as he decided how to deal with the woman waiting within.                The odd woman from Gade who had bullied her way to speak with him.  From all accounts she had not accepted no, even willing to turn guards to ash if she had to his advisor had stated.  The man had identified then spitfire as a war hero named Catamerly Bloodsand, a half blood woman of Gade and the desert Alhamra Empire.  Ewan had asked his advisor if he knew if this woman was a Wolfen or not, but the man did not have an answer.   What he did know is she was a powerful Pyromancer and Battle Mage, but if she was a shifter?  That he did not know, but Ewan would find out soon enough.

            What was one tiny woman to him anyhow?   He rolled his deep chocolate hued eyes and stepped into his study.  No one would keep him out and this little obnoxious piece of fluff would learn the stuff a Leto Prince was made of.

            He paused a moment in the doorway, staring at the little vixen that was reclining in his favorite chair.  She sprawled in the far too large for her leather chair, bare feet kicked up on his desk, causing her dress to gather around her thighs revealing shapely toned legs the color of deep caramel.  Her boots she had tossed off in front of the desk so she could paint her toenails a vibrant red.  She completely ignored him standing in the doorway, her golden eyed gaze purely focused on what she was doing.  Without so much as a glance towards him she spoke in a voice rich and deep as the softest velvet.  “Stop just standing there, come in or step out, but you are letting in a draft.”

            Ewan tensed, his jaw clenching at the insolent little tart making herself comfortable in his study, but by the deities above and below she was breath taking.   From her nipped in waist that led into full curved hips, to her generous breasts that the heavy battle robes could not hide, finally to a heart shaped face with rose petal lips marred by a scar slashing across her face from her right temple to left crossing over her left eye and ending at her jaw.  Instead of detracting from her, it added to her beauty, fierce and dangerous.  He guessed she was no more then five feet in height, tiny yet her robust presence filled the room as she ordered him around.

            “Do you know who I am,” Ewan demanded.

            “Annoying,” she replied without missing a beat.

            “That is a description, not a name!”

            Her brush froze and her glowing eyes slowly turned up towards him.  “It can be a name and you wear it well.”

            Ewan stood staring at the impudent piece of fluff who spoke to him like that.  He stepped in slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the wood crack.   She looked entirely unimpressed, her pretty lips pursing into an annoyed moue.

            He strode over to glare down at her, easily towering over her even when she stood to glare up at him.  The top of her head did not even come to his shoulder, her lush form dwarfed by his mass.   She stood in a position that would normally be chest to chest, but it was more like tit to belly.  Still her whiskey gold eyes swirled with irritation as she locked her gaze with his. 

            “I damn well know who you are… prince,” she hissed.  “The man who refuses to meet with an Ambassador of Gade.  You think the trolls and barbarians are not a worry to Leto, but they will make it this far south if they are not stopped.”

            “Leto has its own issues, and you are not an Ambassador little imp,” he snarled in return.  “Just because you are a hero at home does not mean you are nothing more then another plebian at my feet.”  Ewan was shocked at his own words.  Normally he was a polished speaker skilled in the arts of diplomacy and negotiation, but this woman struck something deep inside of him.

            “Did you call me plebian,” Catamerly suddenly laughed at him.  He expected rage, but this was worse.  “First… I know I am not the Ambassador.  I just accompanied him as a guardian.   Second… I never realized you were that slow.  Perhaps I should press to meet the Crown Prince Sorrow.  I understand he is a pleasant person and far better looking then you.”  She curled her lip and broke eye contact to examine her nails as if he was less then mud on her boot.

            Ewan’s mouth worked a moment without a sound, trying to formulate words.  She glanced up and lifted a delicate arched brow.  “It is truly a well kept secret you are mentally slow, but they say some artisans are gifted their talents to make up for their lack of brain power… an exchange if you will.”

            “You little bitch!  Someone should shove a cock in your mouth,” he snarled, losing any form of diplomacy he may have left.

            “Better men then you have tried,” she curled her lips back to reveal elongated canines.  

Definitely Wolfen then he made note.  It also quickly occurred to him that there was no information on her using that hybrid form in battle, which was virtually unheard of for a shifter.  Was her magic so powerful she did not need that form?   He felt curiosity stir beneath his burning hot rage.   He grabbed onto it and took a deep breath, shoving down the draconic rage building in him.

“You would be entirely mistaken.  There is no one like me,” he said with a smug tone and a snide smile.

            She rolled her eyes at him, scoffing at him now.  “The rumors about you are only because the poor girls take pity on the dull witted prince who makes pretty things.”

            Several courses of action came to mind in an instant for Ewan.  He stood glaring down at her while he pondered which one to take.  Having her arrested would be a waste, and honestly arresting a Gadian War Hero would be a poor choice.  Though the thought of her in chains made him instantly hard.

            Catamerly was once more looking down at her nails ignoring him.  He could see her eyes widen as her gaze was perfectly lined up to see the sudden effect of his thoughts manifesting physically.

            “Oh I promise you certain rumors about me are completely true,” he drawled out, his voice deepening with desire.

            She looked up at him a flicker of surprise in those eyes.  The scorn was gone now, replaced with skepticism.  “Do you really expect me to fuck you?”

            “Hardly vixen, but I have a good imagination and I can just slack my lust myself, imagining you cuffed to my bed naked.   Nothing you can do about that now is there?”

            “Is that so,” she said.

            “It is most certainly so,” he replied in haughty tones.

            Her next course of action would take Ewan completely off guard.  Instead of the typical female reactions he expected she chose violence of her own fashion.

            Tiptowing up she grabbed a fistful of his curly locks she could just reach as she bounced up wrapping her legs around his hips in one fluid movement.  Her hot mouth found his, tongue dragging across his lips till they parted to allow her tongue to entwine with his.  Kissing the woman was like kissing raw flames, burning him to his core drawing a deep primal need from the depths of him.  Her soft breasts pressing against his hard body where far fuller than he first imagined.  Her body writhed against him, setting his imagination afire at what she would be like naked and riding him. 

            The next moment he was holding air, his lips and skin tingling where her touch had scorched him.  She stood in the now open doorway.  “This is how this is going to work priiiiiince… you are going to come to me and ask politely for an audience.  I may even grant it.   Once we discuss business I may be nice enough to let you use that tasty cock you have in those pants on me.  Till then… your imagination falls completely short of what I am.  Consider this a lesson in actions and the consequences they bring about.”

            Before he could retort a reply, she vanished in white flames, leaving burn marks on the door and floor.  Ewan closed his eyes and let out a long deep breath.  “I am going to beat that ass of hers once I get her naked,” he snarled out loud.   Damned if he didn’t know right then he would chase her down and deal with business of the kingdoms, and he hated the knowledge.

[mischief-incarnate]

Forever and Ever

(Disclaimer:  This is not a Warcraft story.   Ghalyn does appear as Ely’s brother in Warcraft stories, however both of them have an alter ego on a world known as Zyltenia.   This is a story revolving around the High Elf Ghalyn of said world.)

Day 2 @daily-writing-challenge

            The pair of friends walked through the deepest part of the forest, working their way to the heart of the vast woodlands.   Haru followed closely on Ghalyn’s heels, still grumping that he was not leading.

            “You know I have innate skills in the woodlands as a Kitsune… I could just transform into a fox and,” his fluffy white ears twitching causing the bells hanging from them to sway and tinkle softly.

            Ghalyn shot him a look over his shoulder, indigo eyes sparking with a moment of anger.  “Not everything is about you Haru.  This… this is my time.  I need to prove my want, no need to the Fallen Lord.  Not you.”

            Chastised Haru fell back a step and pouted.  “I just want to help.  You are my brother of the soul.”

            “Yes, and I feel the same towards you Haru.  You are the only person in my life I even trust, but I must earn the powers I seek.   Thank you though for standing at my side,” he replied with a tiny grin.

            Haru returned the grin then blinked.  “I think we found it.”

            Ghalyn paused looking back forward.  His keen eyes caught sight of a few black stones shaped into building blocks.  The massive pieces were covered in plant life to the point they blended into the forest in the dappled light filtering through the canopy.

            Ghalyn took a step forward resting his hand on the ancient stone.   He sucked in a breath at the flow of ancient magic from the edifice to himself.  He looked back over at Haru with a silly grin.  “This is it.  I feel the magic.”

            Haru stepped forward, ears perked and touched the time worn stone.  He frowned and shook his head.  “I feel nothing.”

            Ghalyn gave a nod, “Because the Fallen Lord has not called to you.”

Haru puffed out his cheeks and blew a sigh.  “Is this where I sit and wait?”

            Ghalyn shook his head.  “No?   Unless something says otherwise there is nothing stopping you from witnessing what may happen.  The Fallen Lord may still yet reject me, but we will see,” he added with a little shrug.

            The two pushed deeper, slowly and carefully working their way into the ruins.   The two eventually treading down a cobble lane peeping through the forest moss.   Birds sang, small animals darted through the thick underbrush.   The place felt like a normal primordial forest in every way to Haru.  He could not feel the steady pulse of energy from the ancient Fae Lord that once walked these lands as his own. 

            Ghalyn followed the pull, a moth to a distant candle that grew brighter with every step.  He drew to a stop in the middle of what had once been a plaza of brilliant mosaic stones.   Haru stood peering at the ancient pattern trying to discern it, not seeing the figure Ghalyn could.

            A figure floated directly in the center of the mosaic, silently waiting.   Ghalyn turned to tell Haru to stay put, but the Ktisune stood froze pointing at the mosaic.

            Ghalyn let out a deep sigh to steady himself before striding forward with the confidence that blossomed deep in his soul.  His indigo gaze taking in the Fallen Lord.

            The primordial Fae Lord wore a coat of scales the hue of the new moon’s night sky.   Inky black lit with thousands of pinpoint lights of the distant stars.  Deep violet swirls of the magic of shadows, the magic before the Eternal Light ever lit the vast heavens flickered.   Skin shimmering like snow in the light of the moon stretched tight over sharp features, nearly alien.   His eyes were endless pools of swirling violet and coal, sprinkled with a luminescent star dust.  He lifted a graceful hand, long of finger ending in virulent blood violet claws, beckoning Ghalyn closer.   Wings of ethereal whisps of the very essence of shadows unfurled from his shoulders, flickering into existence.

            Ghalyn strode forward, sliding his hand into the ice cold hand of the void, not flinching as the slender fingers curled around his hand, palm to palm.   “I feel your heart,” the ancient being breathed.  “I know your pain.  The need to right the wrong.”

            Ghalyn gave a single nod.  “I would be a Chosen of yours.   I would wield the power of the endless void of Shadow to your desires, to fulfil my own.”

            There was a long moment, Ghalyn feeling his soul stripped bare to the being before him.   The Fallen Lord pouring over Ghalyn’s every moment of life since birth in a blink of the eye, beat of the heart.   He would either accept the young elf or cast him away.   Ghalyn steeled himself for the outcome, knowing no matter what he would pursue revenge against Nieanna Shadowbrook.  Nothing would stop him from bringing the woman low that murdered his grandfather. 

            “They will not bring her to justice.  Her family is old and powerful,” the ancient one murmured, his voice a dark flow washing over Ghalyn.

            “No, they will not.  My accusations where tossed aside, even with the proof I presented.  I was told a woman of her standing would have nothing to gain with the murder of an insignificant artisan.”

            The lips pale as snow lilies curved into the slightest of frowns.  Neither had to speak of the fact Alcor Starbell was no mere artisan.  He had been one of the few who understood the technique to forge the alloys from the Shadow Realms.

            The moment stretched on, tenuous, delicate as the wings of a butterfly.  Ghalyn closed his eyes and focused on breathing and simply being.   His eyes the color of the deep ocean flashed open at the sudden spike of pain from the palm of his left hand. 

            He watched as the primordial one took a deadly claw and pierced the center of the palm of his hand, slowly etching a pattern into his skin.   Ghalyn shuddered as his blood blossomed in its wake, holding the pattern as it was drawn.   His golden skin turning to alabaster as the Lord worked his magic.   The first rose took shape, sending thorn vines of deep green to grow up his arm, leaves and roses blossoming along its path.   His skin turning stark white as the magic wound its way up to his shoulder, then down his chest till pain blossomed along with a rich crimson blossom, petals dripping with his own blood.   When the magic ended the roses grew along his left side, curling tendrils from his ear to his foot.  No one viewing it would know this was nothing more then a clever artists work, not the bond of ancient power of a Chosen and their Spirit Lord.

            “You are mine now Ghalyn.  When you seal this pact with her blood, then I will bestow upon you the powers of one of my Chosen.  You must slay her with clever deeds and not blades.   Prove to me you have earned this.”

            Ghalyn gave a nod of his head, “As you say it, so shall it be.”

            There was one more moment where Ghalyn gazed into the depths of the void that was the Fallen Lord’s eyes, then the being as ancient as time was gone.  

            “Hey I think these tiles tell a story Ghal…. WHAT THE NINE TAILS?”   Haru stared mouth hanging at the elf that stood before him. 

            Ghalyn’s sun kissed skin glowed white in the sunlight, his indigo eyes now a burning crimson.  When he smiled sharp fangs peeked against his ghostly lips.   “I have one task to perform to prove I deserve the true powers,” he said with a coy grin.

            Haru’s eyes raced over his friend’s changed visage, taking in the roses that bloomed on his skin now.  He let out a low whistle.  “Well damn, hope you like your new look.”

            “I accept it for eternity Haru.  Now we hunt the bitch down, but you know I will handle her… I have an idea but I will need you to help teach me how to enthrall a woman.”

            “Ooooo, sounds juicy.  You are going to have to tell me your plan,”  the Kitsune said, his head cocking to the side as he studied Ghalyn.  “Yeah, I think you can intrigue her.   So, let’s head back to town.  I think I need a drink after this.”  He walked over and draped an arm over Ghalyn’s shoulder.  “I shall teach you grasshopper.”

[mischief-incarnate]

Love and Loss

(Disclaimer:  This is not a Warcraft story.   Ghalyn does appear as Ely’s brother in Warcraft stories, however both of them have an alter ego on a world known as Zyltenia.   This is a story revolving around the High Elf Ghalyn of said world.)

                “She is looking at you Ghalyn,”  Haru’s voice caught the elf’s attention from the beer he was brooding over.

                Ghalyn rolled his crimson eyes, not even glancing up.  He knew how it things where being around the charismatic Kitsune.   He was always the after thought to the females of most humanoid species when Haru was present.  “Not falling for it,” he growled in annoyance.

                “I am serious Ghalyn, I think she likes your artwork and pouting,” Haru said in his typical irritating chipper tone.   Haru was the happiest person in a winter rainstorm Ghalyn had decided long ago. 

                “If I look up and this one is visibly undressing you with her eyes like all the others I will punch you in your pretty face Foxman,” he grumbled before looking up in the direction Haru was indicating with nods of his head.

                Ghalyn found a pair of indigo eyes locked onto him.  He blinked in surprised, looking around quickly to double check she was truly looking at him.  When their eyes met her full pink lips curled into a coy smile and she nodded, copper ringlets that framed her heart shaped face bouncing with the motion.

                “Told you,” Haru said in the smuggest of tones.  

                “I should still punch you,” Ghalyn muttered, though he sounded halfhearted in his statement.

                “Go on over there,” Haru said while punctuating his words by nudging Ghalyn’s chair away from the table with his foot.

                Ghalyn slowly rose and walked over, adjust the buckles of his leathers nervously as he did.  He stood before the lovely human woman nervous now, his ears drooping ever so slightly.  He hated to think about his only experience with females in any manner that was even remotely intimate.  It was not a pleasant memory and instantly brought a frown to his face.

                “Do you scowl at all the ladies like that,” she chuckled in a rich voice, sultry and warm.  It made him think of caramel the poured onto apples at springs faires. 

                “Oh, I uhhh… well no… maybe,” he stammered, his pale cheeks staining red at his verbal stumble.

                She smiled and pulled out the chair next to her. “Sit with me.  I am Seona, and what may I call you.”

                Ghalyn hesitated a moment before slowly lowering himself to sit next to her.  “Ghalyn,” he said, grip tightening on his beer.

                “Are you always nervous with women,” she asked leaning closer to him, the scent of roses, amber, and something darker and earthier he could not name stealing over him.

                “I will be blunt; I have little experience with women.  Just one really.”

                “Is that so?  I take it the first time went poorly,” she said, suddenly reaching up to trace the black and gold ink of the animal skull inked into the side of his shaved skull.  “I like how you have one side shaved, the other this glorious water fall of hair that looks like raven feathers.   It really sets of those eyes and your fair skin.  I have never seen an elf like you before.”

                Ghalyn found himself froze, shocked at her touch, yet the sudden need for her not to stop overwhelming him with an intensity that frightened him.  “It… I really can not talk about that time.   The outcome was as I predicted,” he said in a voice the shocked himself.  Did he sound all growly like Haru did when he was lining a woman up as the night’s company.   Ghalyn wanted to scowl, but he found he couldn’t with those soft fingers against his skin.

                “Did you embarrass yourself,” she asked with a lifted brow, fingers now finding the first rose inked into his neck, touching the vines as they disappeared down into the leathers.

                “No… no not at all,” he replied with a tiny shrug.   One really could not tell how they had murdered their one and only bed partner, it wasn’t a good look.  She deserved her fate for murdering his grandfather and he would never regret his method of ending the noble’s life.  “She was just a bad person,” he finished realizing his explanation was a bit lame.

                “Did not treat you well then?”

                “She did not.  I was just one of her many passing fancies.”

                “Truly?   Interesting you would be just a passing fancy.  You have the looks of someone I would like to fancy every night,”  Seona said with that coy little smile creeping across her lips.

                Ghalyn gave her a suspicious look as her fingers skimmed along the collar of his tunic.  “Not the Kitsune?”  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder where Haru had a barmaid in his lap and another giving him a drink from a mug.

                “No… that one is a bard, and those are only trouble.  I prefer my men more exclusive,” she said, her pretty lips pursed into a moue at Haru.

                Ghalyn chuckled, relaxing now.  “Haru is exclusively a man whore.”  

                “Exactly.  I have no desire for that kind of man.  I prefer mine more intense, interesting,” she said leaning close enough that he could feel the warmth of her cinnamon scented breath on his cheek.  “With secrets and scars on their souls that make them worth knowing.  Like a forbidden tome delightful and in intriguing.”

                Ghalyn flushed again at her words, squirming despite himself.  “Well, color me flattered,” he said, his voice going husky again.

                “Stay with me tonight… and hopefully more nights,” Seona said, her lips soft as flower petals brushing his cheek.  

                Ghalyn wanted to say no, did not want to find himself drawn to her.  There was something about her that attracted and repulsed him at the same time.  The first won out and he found himself nodding his head.

                “I could not think of a better way to spend the night of Melonia’s Feast and Celebration,” he said, mentioning what many called the Night of Love, the celebration of the fertility goddess that happened every spring.

                “I agree,” she said rising to take his hand in her delicate soft one.

Years later Ghalyn found himself staring down at the tiny woman now sleeping in his bed.  He had not lain with Shiori in the intimate sense of the word, instead holding her while they slept.   His heart clinched as he gazed down at the pale blond curls that framed the delicate face.  He wanted to love this woman as she deserved, needed.  Shiori was the type who would pour her entire being heart and soul into someone she cared for.

The pain of his passed grabbed his heart in its icy grip.  What Seona had done to him had left him a broken man.  He could fight down demons, defeat all comers in the gladiatorial pit he loved to fight in, but women?   They struck fear in him like nothing else could.

Seona had not only taken his heart and destroyed it, but she had taken his newborn baby daughter from him.  How could the woman he had loved so deeply kill an innocent child to simply deny him the joy of fatherhood he would never be able to grasp. 

He looked away running a hand along the back of his neck trying to steady his breathing.  He did not want to love again.  Yet his heart ached in fear at the thought of Shiori in danger.  If his enemies found out he had feelings… he could lose something precious to his heart once more.  

He looked back over as she whimpered in her sleep, hand reaching out to look for him.   Her eyes fluttered open, panic filling their crystal blue depths till she saw him watching her.  A sweet smile appeared on her face, her eyes filling with warmth and love.  “Ghalyn,” she said in her pixie voice, sitting up.

He felt deep inside him the war.  Risk it all and love her, or break her heart to protect himself.

[mischief-incarnate]

Ely by the amazing MapleMoon

[mischief-incarnate]

Advice from an Unusual Source

Ely groaned to herself, wiping her brow of sweat.  What she succeeded in doing was smearing blood and sweat across her forehead.  She was not a hunter; she was a mage.  However, when one was in a strange land you did your best to fit in.   The centaurs sent her to hunt, so hunt she did. 

            Besides at least this kept her away from archaeology sites, as painful as that was.  She could not run into Marek again.   The man had sent her into a tailspin of confusion of self-doubt.  Not that he tried it just happened around him.

            She groaned and stared at the plainstomper corpse.  Why had she hunted for one of these again?  Oh yes, to impress her hosts.  A nice hornstrider would have brought meat and been more manageable.  She scowled as she wondered how she was going to hang it so she could bleed it out.   That needed to do done for transport.  

            Her eyes went to the rope and pully system she had devised with a tree.  Thankfully it was not a full adult yet at least.  She grabbed the rope, dug her heels in and began to pull. 

            She groaned and pulled like a work horse, rope across her shoulder.  Oh it hurt, the bite of the rope with weight.  She made little progress, but it moved a bit.

            Ely scrunched her face and made another heave.  Another inch.   YES!   She paused to wipe at her brow, then threw her weight into it once more.  Suddenly it lurched and she would have fallen on her face if a massive arm had not wrapped around her waist.

            “Hey pretty elf lady,” drawled a familiar voice.

            Ely looked up over her shoulder from where she hung across the thick forearm.   “Lok!  It has been a while since I saw you,” she smiled up into the tusks faced of the second Zandalari she personally knew.  Then she frowned, “You are sneaky for something so big.”

            “De ghost raptor form,” he said with a waggle of his brows.  

            She made note that in his other hand he held the rope and her kill now hung as she intended.  “Thank you for your help.  Could you hold that while I get it ready?”

            Lok nodded and sat her down gently.  “I could do that ya know,” he mused.

            “I know, but I need to do this,” she walked over pulling out her skinning knife. 

            Ely glanced over her shoulder to stare at Lok a minute.  She never got over the sheer size of those specific trolls.   He was so damn big.   Being held like that had made her feel like a tiny rag doll.

            She blinked and went back to focusing on her task.   Once done they had to wait, and she could not just do that silently.

            “Can I ask… a uhhh question?”

            “That was one, I will be givin ya another,” he chuckled.

            Ely giggled at him and smiled happily.  She had always enjoyed his sense of humor.  “So in your society there are men married to men and women married to women?”

            Lok gave her a single nod.

            “How does one know if they like the same sex?  I mean I think I may like this woman, but I don’t know.”

            Lok gave her an amused look followed by a deep rumbling laugh.  “Ya don’t know?  I mean attraction is attraction.  De ya wanna be close to her?”

            “Yes… but sometimes I want to be close to a man too, but then I just… honestly, I don’t know Lok.  The idea sounds nice, but at the same time it scares me.”

            Lok rubbed a tusk absent mindedly with his free hand.  “I be seein.  Look ye can’t rush yerself.  Dem books ya be readin?  Do they make ya happy?”

            “They do.”

            “An do dey be scarin ya?”

            “Of course not!”

            “But da thought of bein close to a mon or womon make ya stomach hurt and heart race in all da bad ways?”

            She nodded.  “That does.  Well except this one person, but I think they just see me as a friend.”

            Lok gave a sage nod.  “Ya not ready.  Ya be havin plenty of time pretty elf lady.  Don’t be rushin.   Enjoy ya life as it comes.”

            She nodded, giving Lok an impulsive hug.  “Thanks so much Lok.  Want to come back with me?   There is going to be a centaur feast tonight.”

            “As long as someone be cookin meat not ta it just needs ta be going to da Shadowlands it be so black.”

            Ely laughed, “I think that is just for sacrifices so the spirits can smell it.”

            Lok snorted, “Da spirits are crazy here.”

            Ely nodded and watched as Lok easily began to drag the carcass back.  As they walked the two spoke of centaurs and their tribes.  Both were wondering how the Tauren felt about all this.

[mischief-incarnate]

I AM NOT A PLUSHIE!

Ely was on the warpath, well at least for her.   Ghalyn was nowhere to be found and she had questions.  She needed some answers and that left Taalys.  She knew he would be someplace in Valdrakkan.  Most likely taking a much-needed break in the inn.

            Sure enough, there he was with a Draenei sitting in his lap?  That made her pause a moment as Ely was not interested in a stranger hearing her woes.   Then they both glanced over, and she made note the Draenei had only one eye and a matching facial scar Nikko did.   So the Zandalari was in disguise it seemed.  A quick magical scan told Ely this was a transformation and not illusion.  Interesting and certainly Taalys’ work.

            Ely self consciously pushed her curls from her face and joined them at the table.  “How have things been here for you?”

            Taalys gave a little shrug.  “There is a lot to piece together.   So many places and beings that need help.   Thankfully there are enough of our types to go around.   And yourself Ely?  Though looking at you,” he paused to give her a once over look, “you look frustrated.”

            “Do I look like or give off plushie vibes?”

            Taalys gave her a confounded look.  “Pardon me?”   Even Nikko was now paying attention, regarding Ely intently with her one good eye.

            “You heard me,” she huffed, puffing out her cheeks.

            “You absolutely do not give me those thoughts, nor do you have that aura,” Taalys said, brow furrowed.  “Care to share with me why you needed to ask this question?”

            She paused, ordering herself a tea then looked back at the two.  Nikko was actually paying attention now, shifting in his lap to peer at Ely.   The mage squirmed under the scrutiny of the huntress, all thoughts of being sassy to Taalys vanishing.

            “I spent the night in a tent with a man, who was obviously not you and also not my brother.”  Ely looked anyplace besides at the couple, making note of Nikko’s surprised snort and Taalys’ mouth falling open ever so slightly.   “Nothing happened!  Well, except that he sleep snuggled me.  He was on the other side of the tent but migrated over.”

            Nikko made a dismissive snort at that.

            “I see… so how does the entire plushie thing come into play here,” Taalys asked, taking a casual sip of his ale.  His eyes remained glued to the mage though.

            “Well the snuggling thing.   It is, was all he seemed interested in.   I gave him hints I found him interesting.  I didn’t even stab him when he pulled my hair either,” she was back to huffing in annoyance.

            “Yes, not stabbing is an excellent way to convey interest,” Taalys drawled.

            “Have you punched him in the face,” Nikko asked.  “It served me well with Taalys.”

            “Wait… you two got together because she punched you in the face,” Ely’s eyes snapped up to stare at the couple, her eyes huge now.

            “She did, and I understood the technicalities of Zandalari courtship… so we ended in a proper fist fight.”

            “A fist fight!”  Ely leaned back in her chair and stared in shock.

            “Yes, it is a proper prelude to angry sex,” Nikko said with the most casual of shrugs.

            “I am not getting into a fist fight with a former paladin,” Ely blurted, shaking her head.

            “Mores the pity, cuts out the confusion,” Nikko grumbled.  “Elves do things the hard way.”

            “Well we prefer not to bleed,” Ely muttered. 

            Taalys chuckled, “Some of us.  So just snuggling happened?  What did he say the next morning?”

            “I uhhhh, well I ran away.  Left my armor too.”

            “Why,” Taalys and Nikko asked as one.

            “You see, errrr.  I woke up before he did, well most of him.  He was spooning me from behind and,” Ely flushed to her roots of her hair and up her ears.  “I was so startled by the poking that I ran away.”

            “So you don’t like him then,” Nikko snorted.

            “I don’t know.  I just know we talked the next day and he was entirely flustered and embarrassed by the poking.   The man seemed like the bad boy type… bad boys do not get flustered by their protrusions.  They are proud of them!”

            Taalys shrugged, “True enough.  I would never apologize or be flustered by my body’s reaction to a soft behind against me.  Obviously, you did not stab or turn him into a sheep.  If he has known you for more then five minutes, that should have been a clue you were appreciative, even if you bolted.”

            “EXACTLY,” Ely blurted loudly, then shrunk down when people stared.  She sighed in relief as her tea was delivered and focused on sipping that.

            “Look Ely, you are not a plushie.  You need to be more comfortable with your beauty.  This may sound funny, but you are completely oblivious to looks that come your way.   At some point you need to be more comfortable with yourself and your looks.   Think of an example of a woman that is at home in her own skin and owning her looks and abilities.”

            “Oh, that is easy Sin and the Coconut Lady,” Ely quipped.

            “Coconut lady,” Taalys asked with an arched brow.

            Ely shrugged, “You would have had to have been there to understand.”

[mischief-incarnate]

Humility (Adult humor)

Ely finished the last bit of organization and packing before the big trip.  An expedition, not a war effort.  That was a calming feeling, though she knew that did not mean there would be lack of violence.  Cultist would make sure of that, but at least she could reasonably hope there would be no innocents in the line of fire.

            Closing up her magical bag feeling pleased everything she could want was in there Ely turned her thoughts towards lunch.  Taalys had invited her to a little place she loved to eat at in the city.   His explanation being he wanted to see her before whatever was going to happen occurred on the Dragon Isles.  She wondered if he was planning on going as well.

            Ghalyn had the door shut to his room, so she settled for a tap on it.  “I will be back.”

            His muffled “see you later” told Ely he was preoccupied with his own preparations.  She smiled as she walked out, feeling content to know she would have him at her side for the expedition.

            The Highborne was waiting for her at a little table on the café’s patio.  He set down his tea to rise and pull out her chair for her.   Once her tea and food order had been placed the two were left alone.

            Taalys lifted a hand and with a casual gesture a faint shimmer could be seen around the two.  “Our conversation is private now.   I can not stand eavesdropping,” the Highborne said with an eyeroll before taking a sip of his tea.

            “Do you think someone would care?”

            “Ely Bell there are always bored nosey people around.  It is an old habit of mine, and one I do not plan to get away from.   Even if the most interesting thing I may talk about is my garden.”

            Ely giggled at that and watched as a pot of tea and cup floated over in front of her.   Letting it steep she leaned closer to the table.  “So, tell me what you think of these elemental cultists.”

            “Typical fools following a leader who is using them as expendable pawns to further their goals.   Regardless of that this Raszageth is unleashed on Azeroth and poses a significant danger no doubt.”

            “You speak from experience about the leader part.”  It was a statement, she knew Taalys’ dark past.

            “I do.   Great harm can be wrought by fools, as we have seen in the past.  The people of Azeroth won’t take it sitting down so I am hopeful that for the most part it will be kept contained away from population centers.”

            She nodded and poured herself her first cup, letting the heated aroma of the tea mixed with orange and cinnamon fill her senses.   Ely decided it was time to change subjects, wanting a more lighthearted topic.  “So, anything interesting happen lately?”   Ely expected him to speak of his daughters, or maybe one of his ladies.  This would not be the case, mostly.

            “I found out that you do not eat another Pandaren’s noodles.”

            Ely blinked and looked at him.  “What?”

            “Hanh says I am not allowed to eat other Pandaren’s noodles.  She was so mad I was drug out of Dawn’s Blossom by my ear.”

            Ely blinked at him and lifted a finger shaking it.  “You?  You were drug out of a place by your ear?”

            “I was… it was a unique experience.  It may not have happened had it not been for a young Kadlorei woman with a big mouth.  My friend Feng was trying to diffuse, but this Kel?  She made it worse by stating that going to have noodles was all my idea.”

            Ely frowned, “So she threw you under the Dwarf Tank?

            “Exactly.   I was entire unpleased to watch her eating my noodles with shrimp as I was Panda-handled out the door by my ear.  It made revenge so much better.”

            Ely sipped her tea and watched as their food was delivered.  She took a nibble of her chicken salad as the image of the happy Pandaren woman dragging the massive Highborne around by his ear danced in her mind.

            “Sooooo… you got revenge,” she eventually asked once she found her voice.

            “I did.  I found her in Red Ridge having lunch.  I made sure she did not get a bite and learned a lesson.”

            Ely took a few moments to decide if it was worth asking that question that filled her mind.  Glancing up she could tell by his expression Taalys was waiting for her to ask.

            She threw up her hands and sighed.  “How did you get revenge on her?”

            Taalys steepled his fingers in front of his mouth in thought.  “I will word this, so it is not too much for you little Ely Bell.”   He paused at her scowl.  “Would you prefer I not sensor myself?”   He chuckled as she quickly shook her head no.  “After a brief discussion I carried her upstairs, of course the entire inn stared.  It was a busy lunch too, so I can only imagine the aftermath for her.   Anyhow, after a blindfold…”

            “You blindfolded her,” Ely interrupted in surprised.

            “Why would I not?  It was important to my plan.”

            “And she let you?”

            “Well yes, she was expecting a bit of fun.”

            “And you did not?”

            “Of course not.  I left her without so much a kiss or truly indecent touch.   The words aching and wanting are applicable.”

            Ely folded her hands in her lap and thought about that.  “I suppose that is cruel, but how would anyone know she had been humbled?   This aftermath.”

            “Well… you see I left a letter so she understood my vengeance was at hand.  The rainbow glitter bomb it became once read ensured her walk of shame would be complete.”

            Ely’s ears twitched and her eyes widened.  “She had to leave coated in glitter?”

            He nodded, “A lesson in humility deserves one in return.”

[mischief-incarnate]

Nightmares

(Adult themes and violence)

Ely found herself standing in the Badlands, snow sprinkling her as she stood before one of the odd sigils the cultist were using to bring the elementals.  She reached out with child fingers towards the hovering stone rune then blinked.  Why was she in her nightgown?   Elyren wrapped her arms around herself, shivering, looking around the desolate landscape.

            She took a step away from the rune, suddenly struggling to keep her balance on a pile of silverware.   She stared down at the forks and spoons with a befuddled expression.  “The heck is this,” she muttered while reaching down to pick one up.   She let out a surprised hiss at the cold of the fork, the metal adhering to her fingertips.

            She shook her hand violently, trying to fling it from her.  Even that distraction did not blind her to the sudden darkness engulfing the land.  She looked up then screamed at the sight of a massive maw so vast the smaller fangs where taller than her.

            Ely tried to scramble away, slipping and crashing onto the pile of utensils.  Horrid, rotted meat breath washed over her, saliva dripping down onto the dirt next to her.

            She screamed again, then blinked her eyes opened as she was shaken none to gently.  She looked up at her brother’s annoyed face.  

            “Do you think you could stop with the shrieking?  Some of us are trying to sleep,” he drawled in annoyed tones, but she could see the worry in his eyes.

            “Well, I am sorry my nightmare was inconvie… WHERE IS YOUR SHIRT,” she shrieked and pointed to her bare-chested brother.

            “I am sorry I sleep in just pants.  How dare I,” Ghalyn said with a roll of his eyes.  “I will go get a robe.  Meet me in the kitchen for tea and we can talk.”

            Ely nodded and watched him leave, glaring at the tattoos she could see on his back.  Not that she disliked tattoos, she just disliked seeing them on her brother.   After being reunited him once more there were some books she would NEVER be able to read again.

            She pulled on her own robe over the top of her very prim and proper night gown and shuffled out after a quick and successful search for her favorite slippers.   She found Ghalyn at the stove, heating up her favorite kettle from Pandaria.  He did indeed have a robe on, however, it hung open to her chagrin. 

            She walked up, turned him around and proceeded to pull it close and tie the belt.  “I don’t need this Ghalyn.  You’ve already ruined my favorite books!”

            “Not my fault you lust after men that are like me.   For shame little sister.”

            She groaned and slapped his arm before going to get the cookie tin and put it on the table.  Opening let out the delicious aroma of his oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.  She nibbled the edge of one, closing her eyes to shut out everything but the rich buttery taste of the cookie.

            “So what happened today to set you off?”

            “I found out a friend really wasn’t a friend.  He just wanted to have angry sexual relations in an ally,” she sighed.

            Ghalyn turned and stared at her.  “I know you are quite capable of defending yourself… but you know I could feed him to an Imp Mother.  I know one, she’d enjoy a snack.”

            She chuckled, “I have no idea where he went.”

            “And?  I have my ways.”

            “No Ghalyn, you may not murder him.  He’s a jerk, but that may be overkill.”

            Ghalyn tilted his head.  “I have a feeling you are leaving phrasing out and it is worse they you act.  I mean you are having nightmares after.  You haven’t had a single one since I have been staying here.”

            She sighed and looked down as he placed a steaming cup of tea before her.  “Be that as it may, no murder.  Though it is a good brother to want to.”  

            She looked up and the two shared a smile.  He sat down with his own tea and snatched a cookie which was devoured in a bite.   “So, was there any good?”

            “I learned a few steps of the Tango from my friend Sin.”

            “Sounds delightful.  Tell me about him.”

            “She is a Shal’dorei, and about six and a half feet tall.  Dancing with her was interesting.”

            Ghalyn paused mid sip of his tea as he eyed his barely six-foot-tall sister.  “So she is flat chested?”

            “Larger than my considerable self actually.  It was an effort not to suffocate.”

            Ghalyn set his cup down.  “Wait you managed to dance like that?  You didn’t faint?   You had to be face deep in tits.  Were they covered like a prudish priest?”

            “No, she actually was only wearing diamond nipple pasties.  I uhhh, I may have motorboated them.  It was this crazy impulse,” she said giving her brother a cheeky grin.

            Ghalyn stared slack jawed at his sister.  He knew her tells when she was lying, and she certainly was not.  Maybe there would be a second coming of Deathwing with such bizarre things happening.

[mischief-incarnate]

Reunion

Location:  Badlands

Time:  Beginning of the Elemental Incursion

 

            Ely let her feet drag through the frost covered dust of the Badlands.  She rubbed her arms under her battle robes, shivering.  The ice lord had taken many to bring down, leaving dead and wounded in its wake.  The cultist that brought him into this plane were not much better honestly.  

            Nothing she had read had prepared her for this.  The land was scorching hot, still showing signs from Deathwing’s attack years ago.  And yet, she was near frozen to the bone.  She scowled a bit to herself and slumped against a rock, which was a mix of warm from the sun, except for the face closest to the battle.  That was cold as death.

            Her eyes fluttered closed as she rested against the sun warm side of the rock.  Close by she heard the sounds of the others patching the wounded and so forth.  She should be safe enough to nap.  She never compared herself to the warriors and front-line fighters burdened with the heavy armor and weapons.  She knew that was exhausting to the very bone.  She never protested when they said finger fighters had it easy.  What was the point?  Neither could understand the burdens and drains of the other.   Funneling and drawing raw arcane was an exhausting process, leaving the user empty and weak.  

            Ely was certain she had been fighting a good part of the day, the cultist sending an unending tied of elementals at them.  She smiled a bit as she let herself drift off.  She had done good that day.  A little rest was needed.

            When she woke her entire body ached, muscles and bones letting her know her choice of nap spots had been a poor one.   That was the thing about being an introvert, you needed alone to recharge oneself.  Her eyes opened to darkness.  A quick glance up confirmed she had slept past sunset.   Annoyed with herself she stood, stretching.   Food and a campfire would be more then welcome now. 

            The sound of a hoof on gravel snapped her attention to the left.  A massive Tauren shaped shadow loomed out of the darkness.  That did not bring her worry as some of the Horde races had been helping, as the Alliance helped the invasions on Kalimdor.  It was his manner of dress that alerted her to the danger she was in.  A cultist stood before her, a smirk twisting his muzzle.

            The next moment Elyren felt as if she where drowning, her lungs full and heavy.  The Tauren had lifted a hand, a beam of liquid striking her in the chest, robbing her of her breath.   Behind him she saw movement, other cultist drifting out of the shadows.

            Raw fury blazed through her veins at herself, at them.  She was a fool and knew it, but if she was going to die, well she would take some with her.   Her fingers worked in a quick gesture of counter magic, snuffing out the beam.   The little magus roared out the words, “YOL SU’UM!”    White hot draconic flames burst from her mouth, engulfing the group encroaching on her.

            Their shrieks satisfied her briefly, giving her the much-needed time for her to draw upon the ley lines around her for their raw power.  Arcane lines of power ignited under her feet, drawing the energy of Azeroth to her.   Just as the cultist regained their senses and had doused the flames, a meteor slammed into the ground leaving nothing except a smoldering dent in the ground.

            She blinked, looking at where the group had been, a relieved sigh leaving her lips.  Then pain blossomed in her back, driving deep into her lung.  She gasped, blood spraying from her lips as the crazed cultist drove the blade deep into her from behind.      

            “At least they died,” she gasped and fell to her knees.  The elf behind her raised his blade, preparing to plunge it down once more.  Ely lashed out with ice, freezing him where he stood and crawled forward dragging herself to her feet.   Eyes closed she focused on time, sending her body back seconds before the dagger.  Sweet air filled her lungs as she stood, unharmed.  She gazed at the rogue her eyes slits.  

            Her eyes widened as the armored ice monstrosity came out from behind it.  She was drained from her sudden use of extreme magics.   How many more would come?  She conjured and arcane shield around herself, feeling the fatigue gnawing at her.  She doubted she would last against this, not without a break.  She took a single step back before it charged.  She blinked from it’s path once, plastering herself against the side of another rock face. 

            It spun throwing a shard of ice towards her.  Another blink, another shard, this one catching her in the chest, lifting and slamming her back into rocks.   She closed her eyes, pain radiating from every part of her body, the arcane shield had saved her from broken bones at least.

            She shoved herself to her feet, drawing her reserves to herself, arcane power pooling into her hands.

            She blinked and stared as a Infernal slammed down from above onto the Ice elemental, shattering it into a fine mist.  It turned and stared at her, its expressionless face focused on her.

            This, this was worse.  She braced herself till she heard a voice she had not heard in decades behind her.  “I must say, despite our parent’s insistent coddling of you Little Bell, your skills are impressive.”

            She blinked.   His skin was different hued, and his eyes burned red, but she would know her brother anywhere.  She didn’t hesitate.  She knew he was not with these cultists.  Ely flung herself into the arms of her brother sobbing like a child.

[mischief-incarnate]

An Awkward Question

It had been a few months since Ely had walked the little road to her friend’s house.  What was once a long neglected forgotten inn was now a home to the Highborne and the friends he had gathered.   Well, some were more then friends, obviously.   His two daughters and maybe son was testament to that.

                She had other questions really, but those she would leave alone.  Some things where better not asked, especially when it came to the fierce Zandalari, Nikko.   Ely could not even look at her without memories flashing in her mind, making her stomach churn.  Not that she was frightened, no that was guilt there. 

                She smiled softly to herself when she came around the bend and the building came into view.  Out front the two little girls played happily, near mirror images of each other.   Taalys knelt next to a garden, pulling some of the wild growing plants and leaving others.  Standing over him was a woman Ely had not met yet, but knew that was his lover?   At the very least mother to his children. 

                Asta had always been absent when she had visited over the past couple of years.   The arrival of his first daughter had brought Taalys to settle down.  At first it was him and his hired nanny, then others had joined. 

                She froze when Asta turned to stare her down, her heart freezing a moment when those black eyes focused on her.   Nightwarrior disciple?   Taalys had never indicated Asta was any such thing.  Then the sun hit just right, and she realized those eyes where not black, but a deep purple.   Well now that was interesting.   The expression on Asta’s scarred face would keep Ely’s questions to herself.

                Taalys stood up, towering over the Kaldorei woman and walked over to Ely.  “Why hello Ely Bell.  You finally get to meet Asta, my mate.  Asta, this is my Quel’dorei friend I met in Dalaran.”

                Asta’s face lightened up and she smiled now.  “He has told me of your adventures together.  Nice to meet you.”

Ely held up a small basket.  “I brought the girls cupcakes if that is okay.  Fresh from one of the finest bakeries in Dalaran.”

                Asta took it.  “Is there extra,” she asked with a hopeful look.

                Ely nodded, “I brought a dozen, to be sure.”

                Asta clapped a hand on her shoulder, “Taalys is right, you are quite likable and thoughtful.  I will take the girls inside to eat, let you two catch up.”

                Ely watched the woman herd the children inside before turning to Taalys.  “You look happy, far more then when we first met.”

                “To be fair Ely Bell, I was fighting demons at the time,” The Highborne chuckled.   “But I do know what you mean.  So, what brings you here today?”

                Ely squirmed, despite her best intention not to.   She took a long breath blushing despite herself.   That made him raise a brow at her, his expression one of mixed amusement and curiosity.

                “I have a question I need to ask you.”

                Taalys blinked at her, watching her redden.  Well, this was interesting.  “Of course.”

                “I need you to understand that the question absolutely does not come from me!   It comes from a friend named Teron.   He is not the brightest of Kaldorei, and his father told him some things.   I of course do not believe them true.”

                “Please Ely, I need to know this question that has you so flustered.”

                Ely’s ears wilted and she looked away, watching Taalys’ out of the corner of her eyes.  “He wants to know if magic really makes Highborne’s di…. Ummm male appendages fall off.  I told him that wasn’t true, and that you have children in my defense, but I promised I would ask for him,” the last bit came out in a jumbled rush of nervous words.  She felt herself blush so hard her cheeks stung. 

                Taalys blinked at her, stunned.  She felt her stomach churn and was sure she would vomit if she had anything in her stomach.   Then he started laughing, a full-on gut laugh that involved his whole being.

Ely blinked and turned to stare now, mouth agape.  That was not the reaction she expected at all.  “I am glad to see you are not offended,” she managed to grumble, feeling the fool now.

                Taalys wiped tears from his eyes and grinned at her.  “I can show you for yourself that it is not true,” he said in the most mischievous tones she had ever heard the ancient elf use.

                “NOOOOO,” she shrieked like a wounded rabbit when his hands dropped towards his belt, which made him laugh all the more.

                Sheer frustration made her slap his arm, bringing about more cackling.   For a moment she saw the battle-hardened Nikko peer out, her half breed son on her hip.  She snorted and shook her head, then retreated back inside.  That was the first time Ely had seen the Zandalari smile, and at her expense.

                Taalys took pity on her but not before muttering something about her face.   “Yes my children are naturally made.  No magic in that, what fun would that be?   If you want you can ask their mothers, and there are four of those.”

                “FOUR?”

                “Yes.  Not everyone is monogamous.  I thought those books would have taught you that.”

                “So Nikko and you?”

                “Yes.”

                “What about Hanh Phu’c?”

                “Yes, but we do not have children.”

                Ely just stood there blinking.  Teron was not even there and had drawn her into an awkward situation.   Damn that man.

                “Come inside and have some Pho, Hanh should be finishing some right now.”

                Ely nodded, following him in with an astonished look on her face.  At least she would have good food and an answer for Teron.  She was deeply hoping he would have forgotten she promised to ask that question by the time she saw him next.

[mischief-incarnate]

Friendship

                Elyren walked with her head down scowling.  How had things gone so wrong with Mal?   He seemed like he would be a great friend the first day they met, even if they had distinctly different ideas about best times to be had.

                He almost seemed like a different person, but what did she know?  She had met the man only days ago, and perhaps the before was the act.  She looked up to see her friend of several years, Abex, looking like a kicked puppy.

                The Worgen’s entire being exuded sadness and dejection.  Oh no, had things gone so wrong between him and the object of his affections?   She hurried to catch him, calling out, “You look like you have had as bad a day as I have.”

                His head snapped up, ears perking a bit.  “We seem to have the same look.  Have you had a bad a day as I have?”

                Ely sighed and heaved a huge shrug.  “Yes, I had to stab Mal in the thigh with a fork.  I have no idea why he was such the creep today.”

                Abex looked thoughtful, pausing to rub his bloodshot eyes.  “You know what?  I know you warned him, so he probably deserved it.  You’re a sweet girl Ely.”   He let out a snort, “I think though I would prefer being a sheep for a while then a fork in the thigh.”

                She huffed, rolling her eyes at him.  “All I had was a fork as I was eating cake, which I only had a few bites of.   He wouldn’t stop touching me!”

                Abex looked like a kicked puppy at that, his gaze skittering away from her.  “Yeah, I guess I am lucky I didn’t get stabbed today.  I messed up with Asta real bad.”

                Ely’s eyes widened as she stared at Abex.  “Oh no Abex, I am sure it wasn’t as bad… what did you do?”

                “I uh…no ya I was just as bad…maybe worse….I did what he did but she ran and I chased and quite literally ran her off,” he looked away now ashamed at himself, his ears hanging as his entire body slumped.

                "Oh Abex... yeah Mal ran me off, but I teleported. A bit harder to follow." She reached over and rubbed his hand. "I won't say it will be okay, because I don't know that. What I can say is you'll grow into a better person from the experience."

                He looked at her hand and smiled ever so slightly.  “I have chocolate cake at my place.  Want to come have some?  My little group of found friends would like someone else besides me pet them.”

                And so Ely found herself eating cake with an old hound dog asleep on her feet at Abex’s little place in the city.

                “So I guess she was overwhelmed,” Ely questioned, watching Abex closely.

                “I think she just needed to process it, but I didn’t give her the time to… it was clearly something new to her, but I freaked….and overreacted.”  He wasn’t looking at Ely again, obviously deeply upset with himself.

                Ely worked on redirecting and soothing Abex’s broken heart.  Eventually this led to the subject of her and Mal’s altercation.  Which as it was forced Ely to explain once again her preference for stories with bad boy male leads.  Which then lead to her fantastic illusion when she had made herself into him.  He had honestly believed she had transformed into a clone of himself, to which she shattered that misconception.  Especially the part where she looked down her pants as him and said, “Well now I know your secret.”  There were days she really could be a troublemaker.

                The look of relief on Abex’s face was enough to warm her heart and bring laughter to the both of them.  Unfortunately for her, she had been taking a bite of cake which led to a choking incident. 

Friendship, she thought, kept the world a better place and made tomorrow worth looking forward to.

[mischief-incarnate]

Thoughts of the past

      

The path she walked was barely recognizable as even being one any longer.  A broken stone here and there peeking through the thick grass and highland flowers was all that was really left.  How long had it been since Elyren had last walked this?  Decades really, and still she could picture it in her mind’s eye just as it had been then.   A little grin played across her lips before she quietly conjured an illusion of herself as she had been then, a young carefree girl. 

                She smiled, watching the childhood illusion of herself chase a butterfly down the path that for a moment appeared whole and intact.  Sighing, she banished it letting the uplifting mood dissipate with it.  The desire to return to the lands she had grown up in drew her in her adult life.  She found it ironic and sad that she now walked here once more as a solider of war.

                The fourth war had thus far been a bitter and brutal affair, the cost of life on both sides crippling.  Though it was said they were winning Ely bitterly wondered at what cost?  Then again, there was no choice but to fight.  The mad undead Windrunner sister saw to that.  Her gaze drew west, not that she could see the decimated Teldrassil half a world away.  Still, she could not help but look towards the distant continent of Kalimdor at the thought.

                Ely felt her body shudder in reaction to the thought of what had happened there.  She had been at Lordearon and fled the plague herself.  Then it was off to Dazar’alor to raid the Zandalari capital city.   The fervor of justice and revenge had quickly turned into a cloying lump in her heart when she saw their children sobbing over the slaughtered corpse of loved ones.  Alliance claimed victory, slaying the Zandalari king.   It needed to be done, just as she needed to be here.  At least fighting here there were no civilians, no innocent children.

                Some said kill them young, so they did not grow to be your enemy.  While she understood the logic, to her it was the logic of a monster.  She would prefer to face combat against that adult later, and even die herself, then murder a child.

                Arriving at the spot so loved by herself once she felt bands squeeze around her heart.  Nothing was left, just wild bushes and grasses.  Wait, she saw a chunk of stone covered in growth.  Slowly she walked over to what had once been a bench.  Time and neglect had left it nothing more then a chunk and crumbles of stone. 

                Sighing she nudged it with her foot and thought back to the last time she had sat here, leaning against her older brother.  Her memories tumbled in her mind, long ago taking over.

                “They say we are leaving Ghalyn, why?”

                “Rumors of dark things, everyone fears what ever is brewing it will be bad.  Stromgarde, Gilneas, and our own people are pulling out of the Alliance.”

                “So I hear.  Mother and father are going to Dalaran.  I suppose I will go with them.   I have never even been to Quel’thalas what is the point of going someplace I have never been to live.  Well unless you are going?”

                Ghalyn gave a bitter laugh, something so unusual she drew away to stare at her brother.   “I am not going back myself.”

                She nodded, accepting his words to mean he was going with them to Dalaran.  Days later he had laughed in their faces, summoned an imp and vanished into a demonic gateway.   She had wondered ever since how truly neglected her relationship with Ghalyn for her to not notice him becoming a warlock.

                Sighing she turned her back on the past and began walking back to camp.  There was no point in dwelling on what was and has beens.  She the future to think about and hope for the end of this war.