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The Hunger

Barracks Sitting next to her bunk, she’d slumped down with her back against the wall, her stomach full, but her hunger screaming that she was starving. What was this hell? What was this hunger that drained her mind, her energy, and no matter what she ate, no matter what she drank, it never went away. The frustration of it all had made her short and forgetful, that had led to reprimands, to discipline, but despite how much she read over and over again the handbook the hunger was becoming the focus of every moment. Then when she was at her worst it was like everyone seemed to find her, the desire to rip and tear at them clawed in her head. These were her friends, her comrades, and the thought that a rushing excitement came in those flashes disturbed her moreso. Did this mean she would lose control? Would she harm someone? The unknown of it made her search for answers and even after voicing her concern to Marsulu, a fellow Private and friend, she knew she’d have to go back. She’d have to walk the halls of the death knights again and after steeling her reserve she opened the archway back and stepped through. Ebon Hold

Her feet landed on the stone of the floating necropolis and her teeth grit as she moved in to find someone, it took about three steps before a gist-like creature moved into her path stopping her short. “You’ve got it bad.” it said before laughing, it’s lithe from crawling off on its master’s bidding no doubt. She moved down the hall to another section of the hold, upon reaching it she looked to the teacher there. The lesson was just concluding when she stepped closer, “I need to speak to you.” the instructor simply waved a hand, “Then speak.” For a moment she didn’t know what to make of that, to her this was a private if not disturbing matter, but she trusted that experience trumped her knowledge. “I am.. I eat, but I’m never satisfied. I drink, yet still have an unending thirst. I try to follow my duty, keep my mind upon the task at hand and yet I can’t. Flashes of blood, flesh, violence, rush me when I look to those I consider friends. How do I– control this?” The instructure barked an unamused laugh, “Do you.. -really- want to control it?” “That’s an odd question, of course I do.” she stated in return. The instructor waved her to follow him as he led her down to the bowels of the necropolis, there were fleshcarvers, butchers, the freshly dead, “These will sustain you for now, but it is the curse of all death knights that we must feed to replenish. Some learn how to control the blood, others use pestilence to feed them, but you.. You must pick and consume or the hunger will get the better of you.” To those words she watched in horror the actions of the butchers, the flash carvers and what was in her stomach revolted coming up, the sudden flash made her run to the nearby rail and expel the days meals into the ocean below. She had to consume.. dead.. the dead.. Flesh and blood that would sustain her undead state, but the very thought of it disgusted her. The instructor came up next to her, “The alternative is worse. I promise you.” to that she wiped her lips with the back of her hand before looking up at him, “Is it? How can consuming the dead be preferred over this ‘alternative’?” her gaze shifted to the piles of dead bodies and again she had to turn way and lean against the railing. “Are you so tied to your humanity? You are dead. Your humanity died with your old life. You are a bringer of death, a death dealer. Nothing about you is human.” to that she turned her gaze with a flare, “Shut up!” she snarled at him, but she was growing weaker. “What is the alternative?” The question was answered with a barking laugh, “There isn’t one, but watching the hope of such a relief die in your eyes is payment enough for the amusement. Buckle up child, consume or perish, if you choose the later, then do it quietly.” As Savren’s gaze fell she found herself wishing she knew where her once lover was, where Aturo was, she realized that with her death, there was a good chance he was dead as well. She hadn’t realized it till her close brush once before how he had bound himself to her. To her life. To the beat of her heart that no longer moved in her chest. Standing she gave the instructor a cold glare before she walked along the railing away from the piles of bodies. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t consume.. She couldn’t. She climbed up and then dropped off the side of the necropolis, below was the broken shore and just off the shore she splashed into the water. Making her way to land was rough. The ice forming around her threatened to freeze her into a solid block in the water, but she kept breaking the ice till she got to the shore. Standing on the shore she looked around at the vacant area, the demons had been pushed back, the area once soaked with blood was now bare. She never saw action here, she’d been safe within the city walls, and the death of so many washed over her. Her hunger had taxed her, the climb out of the water had drained her, and now as she came to shore she collapsed. Her fingers curled digging into the blood drenched shore and as she felt the last reserve of energy leaving her something started to pull and pulse at her hands. Blood was being drawn into her hand, into her body, it started to feed the starving empty reserves and she kept pulling, her eyes opening again as she realized that something was different, she hadn’t perished. Indeed she was feeling better every moment that passed. Lifting up her body from the grimmy sand and standing slowly the blood of the dead feeding into her body through her hands makes her blue rune ignite and along with it the fire rune over her heart. The sudden conflict of runes caused a surge and she paused as her swords shifted to mirror the change, blue from her frost and now the tips bathed in fire. The change also brought a difference in her body, her skin was less pale, almost looking ‘alive’ and the rune over her heart thrummed of its own accord making her for a moment think that her heart was beating again. The power that coursed through her made her lean her head back and give a battlecry, one that echoed over the empty shore before she rolled her shoulders and looked up, the necropolis hung overhead. Taking a few steps forward she easily opened a gate back to where she had left, returning back to the barracks fully charged.

Barracks

The rest of the evening was spent settling out her new set of gear for the deployment and checking her blades. They had changed, but were still as keen and sharp as ever, ready for a fight. She took a walk through the city seeing the Blacksmith to get her armor set, seeing the inscriptionist for decent books to read, and the Alchemist for a few additional healing potions, not for herself, but just in case. Returning to the Barracks she spent some time cleaning up her space and then rolled into her bunk and rested. It’s the first time she’s rested since being raised.

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Epilogue? We shall see. ;)

To The Dearly Departed

The box was placed on the desk, the agent tasked to clean out Druyar’s locker reached in to pull a rather thick folder out from the box’s contents, “Sir.” he moved to hand it out to the Overseer. The man hesitated for a brief moment as the other shooed him away taking the folder in hand, “What are they going to do with her stuff?” the agent asked. A sighs comes from the Overseer, his hand had been about to open the file when he looked up at the Agent, leveling him with a ‘you should know better than to ask’ type of look. “They’ll be sent off to next of kin, if there’s none, then to whomever her will stated would receive the contents of her belongings.” The Overseer lifts a hand as if motioning to the agent if there was anything more, the agent shakes his head, “Be on about your day, Agent Grant.” That was right, she had a will, written up since the beginning. At least the facade was over. How long had it been? Three.. no four years.. pretending he didn’t have doubts if the operation involving Agent Druyar would even pan out, it had been a long shot. Taking his seat behind the desk he pulls the file to his lap and turning, so that he could read while his peripheral caught movement coming to his desk, the lip of the folder was flipped up and the first page of the document’s revealed. So much of it was blacked out, redacted, and the little parts that she had been allowed to read had been an overview of the events that lead to her retirement. He moved to pick up the page, but something was off, it shimmered and then crumpled into a pile of dust. This wasn’t the file, it wasn’t the real file. He almost slammed the front of the file shut into his lap before tossing the ash filed parchment onto his desk, “F-mmm. She knew.. she had to of known..” he muttered before moving out from behind the desk, he went down the hall to the records and coming up to the window began to write out the short request before handing it to the assistant. They read it and went off searching through the SI:7  archives. The next few moments would determine a lot of what would be required to clean up this mess. The assistant returned placing an envelop down and then his request, “Sir, this file has already been checked out.” the assistant calmly stated. “By whom?” the Overseer asked. “By Former Agent M, Sir.” that made his jaw set, that man was dead, and also shouldn’t of had access to even obtain such a file. He balls up a fist and past tight lips he mutters, “Thank you.” as he lips from the window and starts to stalk down the way, Agent Druyar when she had been alive had been at the death of Agent M, he remembered reading her report of watching a blood elf ride away and coming upon Agent M bleeding out. There was nothing she could do for him, nothing to save the retired Agent, and she had found his place empty… empty. The Overseer groaned, she lied. She had found his secret stash, the files he had taken from the agency, and in them.. in them.. she found her own.. fully open file.

The thing that seemed quite odd was the lack of reaction she had to it, if she knew, then why hadn’t she come at them? Why did she commit suicide? Her handler had sworn that she was not one to do that, that something else was at foul play. To the eye, it had been clear what had happened, she threw a fit and in the end sunk her own blade into her heart. The handler had shown up, pointed to things and said there had been a struggle, a fight, but it was an open and shut case. The agency chalked his accusations of further foul play to work related stress and having gotten to close to the agent. If anything that was something Agent Druyar had been good at. Making people lower their guard, getting them to feel a sense of loyalty to her, friendship. The Overseer had pondered these things as his footfalls lead him to standing right outside Shaw’s office. “Sir!” he said as the very busy man’s aid came out, “Sorry, miss.” he said to her as he caught glimpse that the office was empty, “Do you know when the Director will be back?” to that he aid looked up at him and shook her head, “Sorry, he said to postpone all meetings till tomorrow, I think he’s out. Do you need to relay a message?” she asked sweetly. “No. No. I’ll handle this myself.” He then turned and headed off, Agent Druyar’s Will and Testament was still in his hand, coming back to his desk he brushed the ash remains of the folder onto the floor and broke the seal to read the Will. “To whom it may concern, I leave my house to the people of Westfall, to be sold and it’s proceeds to be returned back to Sentinel Hill, to further strengthen their protection of the farms that feed the city. My horses, to the care of my neighbor. The engagement ring be sent back to Caerow Danvers with the note attached. The contents of my locker to one Ishbaneer Schattan, and lastly a final request. That Azokon be given no notice of my passing.” The Will was signed and dated in the late Agent’s hand to which he laid the will down lifting his fingers to rub at the rough shadow that was growing at his chin. He knew Azokon, he had been her first handler, secretly and she had fallen in love with him, even were to be married. They had broken that up with sending her undercover and sending Azokon on a deep cover assignment in the polar opposite direction. He had chosen to be considered KiA, but they had used that, told Agent- Felsi.. that her fiance was murdered in the city streets. The lies they had weaved went both ways, but what was really the truth? The missing file had it all, her origin, how she came to be.. and what they had done to her. It unsettled him that he didn’t know where the file was and looking to the box of her belongings he leans forward and pulls it to him before dumping it out upon the table. To his eyes there was nothing special, only what an agent typically needed and one personal gift, a pair of daggers with a note, signed by a JH. He put everything back in the box and writing off the tag he sealed its contents and passed it off to an agent with instructions to take it to be dead dropped to one Ishbaneer Schattan. For now, nothing had surfaced about the missing file and the Overseer would pull out parchment to write up a report on what he had learned before sending it off. 

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So ends the life of a lover and a spy.

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RB please if you’re WrA RP?

Going through the people I follow and wow, most have been inactive for a WHILE. I’d really love to follow more blogs, honestly you don’t even have to be WrA. MG is okay too, or another smaller server. Horde or alliance.

Please, please, PLEASE reblog!!

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yup

Who else subscribes to the "elf ears are sensitive to touch" headcanon?

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Felsi when she’s undercover, this is what her hair is like as a Sin’dorei

🔥🔥🔥 HairStyle🔥🔥🔥

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THINGS YOU SHOULD DO WHEN U KISS ME:

•push me against any surface.

•gently grab my chin and make me look into your eyes

•grab my waist and pull my body against yours

•pick me up

•pull my hair

•tease me

• bite my lip

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SAME!

Dear RPers who have wanted to interact.

I feel like i need to address this because i find it’s an issue many people, especially newcomers, have in RP.

PLEASE. DO. NOT. BE. SHY. TO. SAY. HI.

There’s no reason to be anxious or hesitant if you want to talk to me. I will happily accept a random starter, or a random tag, or an inbox message! Even if we’ve never interacted or even acknowledged one another, i will still HAPPILY interact with you!

You’re not bothering me. You’re not annoying. You’re not making me uncomfortable. I LIKE to interact with new people, it’s very exciting and fun!

Please, PLEASE, don’t be hesitant when sending in ANYTHING. I’m having a lot more fun than your anxiety tells you!

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What I picture Felsi capable of.

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For any of mine. Felsi - Rogue/Spy, Human/Sin’dorei, SI:7, Sneaky sneak. Loridal - Paladin, Sin’dorei, Lia’s middle sister, City guard Joia - Engineer, Healer, Konsta’s older sister, Dom Ren’dorei Olfilia ‘Lia’ - Fallen Paladin, Fel corrupted, Sin’dorei, Loridal’s older sister. Harrada - Shaman, Spiritwalker, Mag’har Frostwolf Ya’mara - Wardruid, Zandalari Konsta - Mage, Joia’s younger sister, sub little scribe, Ren’dorei

❥     𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒   .

another meme inspired by devotedecay’s format !     tw  for  violence, blood, mature themes. send  in  one  of  these  for  my  muse’s  reaction  to  … (  add  ❝  reverse  ❞   if  you’d  like  to  see  how  my  muse  would  preform  the  action  !  )

[ deck ]   your muse decking mine in the face.

[ punch ]   your muse punching mine anywhere / or specify.

[ pin ]   your muse forcibly pinning my muse beneath them.

[ straddle ]   your muse forcing mine to the ground and straddling them.

[ scratch ]   your muse raking mine with their nails / claws.

[ bite ]   your muse biting mine.

[ turn ]   your muse rolling from beneath to atop my muse.

[ wall ]   your muse pinning mine against a wall.

[ snarl ]   your muse snarling / growling at mine.

[ curse ]   your muse cursing at / cursing mine out.

[ tug ]   your muse gripping mine’s hair.

[ kick ]   your muse kicking mine anywhere / or specify.

[ point + gun ]   your muse holding mine at gun point.

[ point + knife ]   your muse holding mine at knife point.

[ mock ]   your muse mocking mine.

[ sweep ]   your muse knocking mine off their feet.

[ grab ]   your muse grabbing mine forcibly.

[ shoot ]   your muse shooting my muse anywhere / or specify.

[ stab ]   your muse stabbing my muse anywhere / or specify.

[ break ]   your muse breaking any of mine’s bones / or specify.

[ strangle ]   your muse choking mine out.

[ shove ]   your muse shoving mine forcibly.

[ bruise ]   your muse making mine bruise.

[ under ]   your muse shoving mine underwater.

[ attempt ]   your muse attempting to kill mine.

[ bare ]   your muse baring their teeth at mine.

[ threaten ]   your muse threatening mine.

[ spit ]   your muse making mine spit blood.

[ bleed ]   your muse making mine bleed.

[ burn ]   your muse burning mine.

[ corner ]   your muse cornering mine.

[ throat ]   your muse wrapping a hand around mine’s throat.

[ challenge ]   your muse challenging mine.

[ cut ]   your muse cutting mine.

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This

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^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

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YES

When draft horsies do that loping run reblog if you agree

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This.. all of this.. I miss my Maji cat.

Still hurts, but enough time’s passed for me to get out this bit of catharsis. I miss my kitty.

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Recovery

She sat, the ropes had branded her skin with burns at her struggles against them as each new prod produced its bloom of pain that flushed her body with more fever. At this rate her torturer would kill her before getting anything from her, she still replayed the grenade she’d had ready, tucking it away as she sent the children out of the house. Their parents dead, laid in pools of blood that dripped to the floor below, in their backs pieces of parchment stuck to them by the weapons they’d wield against their attacker. She knew their faces and now they were burned into her mind, retired, SI:7 agents.. They had built a life after retirement, were raising a family, and all of it was lost now. Those children, their sobs echoed a haunting sound she couldn’t escape and no matter how much her tormentor prodded the sliced open wound, the blood oozing from it. There was a chance that she would lose the leg and all because.. she bit down on the gag in her mouth. The tip of the blade piercing her skin, the warm spurt of blood that came from the smashed femur underneath the skin and muscle. The long drips down her leg, the sweat and trembling as she attempted to calm herself, he’d taken his pleasure in smashing the limb. She had sustained the torture, she’d made it out the other side and as she came too, the face of one she’s been working with, and another.. a familiar face that being here scared her more than she thought it would. They made the exchange, some mage for her? Now she wondered what had made the mage so important as they wanted him back. She was taken from there, brought to the cathedral and laid on the ground, there they took their time seeing to the femur, healing it with magic and conventional means, and in the hall she spoke to the one that she never thought she’d be scared to see, but in that moment the fear that he might be known, that the ones she’d been tortured by might find out what his connection was to her. It began to play in her mind the sight of seeing him face down in blood pooled around him, their children crying. It was to much, to much to contain, and so she pushed him away. This was how she kept those she loved safe, keep them far away from her and the reckless danger that seemed to plague her life. Talking with the man who’d become her partner in all this mess, the one who had found this mage and negotiated her exchange, saved her life if she were honest. He spoke to her in her broken state, unsure what to do, uncertain if she would heal despite the abounding magics of the priest who aided her. She felt more broken now than any torture could do to her, but rest called to her, rest and recovery. The next day those at the cathedral patted her back and told her she was mended, the numb sensation of the binding on the wound and the supply of magic they had infused her with, she went on a walk. There in the mage quarter she came upon James. The one person who’s known her better than any, as his words met her so her palm met his cheek in a sharp slap, “I deserve that.” he’d said and then she kissed him, “Not sure I deserved that.” he said, but he didn’t protest. In the raw moment she spoke to James about life, about the troubles that had been along with each new twist and turn, and the threat that still loomed in Westfall. He saw right through her, saw her broken state and she wanted to heal, for that James took charge. First was chastising her for being up on her leg if she really wanted to heal it, so he took her piggy back across the city to a room where he wrapped the wound with a salve of his own making. Then put her on bed rest. There she stayed. As time passed she got to walking again with a cane, then slowly with no cane she limped and as the limp subsided she began to walk with just a slight hitch to her gate. It had been some time now, but she was as recovered as she was going to get. Eager now to get back into the field, deal with those who were hunting retired SI:7 agents.