#Reynllin

[teamdoodledork]

J- Jealous- how easily they get jealousK- Killer- how old they were when they first killed someone L- Lust- what they lust after in life A-Arousal- what gets them aroused quickest B- Broken- what it takes to break them

(Gonna do all Reynllin for this one)

J-Jealousy

When he was a much younger dragon, being jealous was easier. Being the only dragon on the court he had everything from the first word on matters to know things that no one would learn till much much later. If someone had an upper hand on something that he didn’t know about...he would have gotten puffy and carry a chip on his shoulder on it. 

Nowadays he doesn’t seem to have a reason to be jealous, but rather he finds more awe in things that he took advantage of not noticing in his youth. 

K-Killer-

He was also very young where he had his first bloodshed. During his first persona years as a highborne, he had an assassination attempt done to him. It was how he learned his favorite secret trick of burning someone from the inside out! But unfortunately, he had to play on being assassinated and make his second persona just to keep the public from not knowing that he was truly a dragon. 

L-Lust

Simplicity in life is a rare treasure to find. All the fighting and political strife between the Horde and Alliance has left him a nasty thorn to his side and then some for the continuing ignorance that they seem to show. If there was less need for him in political matters, he would be head over heels. 

He also lusts over wine, attention, and silence when he can seek it. 

A-Aroused

Being more caring and tender of life is one way to do it. Others are to being witty and brilliant with words, and pleasing in the eyes (no fake or cover up what so ever, the more organic the beauty is the better for him to admire it). If all else fails, wine works wonders to get him going. 

B-Broken

Failing to protect lives that matter the most, as selfish as he internally deems it to be. Being a red dragon, all life is important to him by nature and code. However, he wouldn’t be afraid to only grab the ones that impact him on his daily life in a good way, because being a mortal only equals that you will not last for much longer. 

[razxion]

Vinchenzho: Scales of Black and Red

Vinchenzho knew his brother went down after himself, fallen with a roar that was still breaking his heart as he still laid where he had been struck down.  He could hear the others, Oathsworn such as he…if they allow him to still be.  Some we're celebrating, some were morning, while others were holding themselves together enough to assist the injured.  But who would assist him, a black dragon now know within the ranks.

He couldn't just lie there any longer, he had to know how Reynllin faired, how better or worse was he than himself.  A moment, a breath of concentration laced with the pain from a lung that was pierced and rendered incapable of drawing breath, and he lifted his body off the ground to start moving to his brother.  His left arm was useless, barely hanging on from the deep cuts the two Preatorians gave him, and his wings and tail dragged along the cool marble flooring.  A trail of blood followed him while his head skimmed above the ground.

It only took a few steps for him to see where the red dragon had fallen, and the sight of the flowers left around his unmoving body was too much.  He collapsed.  Tears streaming down his black scales as he kept looking at Reynllin's body, waiting, wishing for it to move, for him to breathe.

A tilt to his head, to rest it upon the cool floor and let the hornless, scaleless and scared half of his face feel something, as the rest of him began to numb.  There was little his body could do now, pushed it's last bit to try and allow his heart to heal with some hope.  But there was little left for himself.  The weight of his body upon broken ribs and one overworked lung was a slow suffocating death alongside the blood loss.

If today were to be the day he was to die, he did indeed keep his Oath, and fell alongside his brother he loved with all his heart.

@teamdoodledork

[jonathan-nevermore-smith]

Journal of a Recovering Dead Woman, Part 2

Musical inspiration includes Now We Are Free and Sora Ni Utaeba

Thirty Days, Four Hours since incident: A Knight is Brave.  That is what our last rite was.  Cleanliness.  Honesty.  Mercy.  Bravery.  I haven’t put words to paper regarding that night, but I feel I have to now.  Sir Tyril, he the ink is illegible here, blotched and scratched out I wanted to be more than what I was.  I knew I could be more than just a weapon, a tool.  I wanted to be more, still want to be more.  He gave me a chance, an opportunity to rise above what the Scourge designed me to be.  To be clean of mind, body, and spirit.  To be honest with myself and others.  To show mercy to my enemies, but also to my allies and friends.  To be brave, no matter what the challenge.  

That last.  Bravery.  Ser Tyril brought us to the Phoenix’s Heart, a font of incredible power beneath the Dawnspire.  A miniature Sunwell, fused with the leylines of the land.  It was beautiful to behold, but I knew I was not welcome to stand near it.  Meters away I could feel it blister and burn me, it’s Light inimical to my existence.  Yet the command he gave was to step within it, and be born anew like the phoenix that blazons our banners.  The others followed it with some trepidation, the dragon stepping into it first, followed by Ashcaster and then my daughter, Caeliri.  Each stepped within it, burnt away in it’s fire before being constructed anew, gleaming and whole of body and spirit.  

At first I feared I could not complete the trial.  How could I? Stepping within the Heart would most certainly have meant my death.  Throughout all of my existence up to that point my life had followed very hard, very simple rules, the most important of which was: Do not encounter the Light.  It was my counter, the very literal Light against my Shadow.  To invite it was to invite suffering and pain like the kind I visited on others to survive.  Stepping within the Phoenix’s Heart was suicide.  

A Knight is Clean.

A Knight is Honest.

A Knight is Merciful.

A Knight is Brave.

…

A Knight is Brave.

And I am a Knight.  A Knight of the Broken Blade, A Knight of the Ebon Blade.  And if I were to do this, to commit myself to the Light in service of more than myself, A Kintaros.  A Knight of the Dawnspire.  A Knight of the Phoenix.  

There was no conceivable way that I would shirk from that responsibility.

So I stepped within it, knowing that I would die, and found my rebirth.  More than my rebirth, I found my salvation.  Whatever it did, I am not what I was before then.  I am changed, to something that even I do not recognize.  Whatever I am, I feel unshackled; I finally feel truly free.  Because Ser Tyril gave me a chance, I can truly be more than what I was.

And now he is dead, sacrificed to defeat the Legion.  He said he had a plan, and a part of me knew that it would involve his death, but I could not conceive of what it might be.  Nor that it would involve the Heart.  When he took the Windfury and flew to it’s center, I barely had time to call out to him.  I knew when he was burned within it, he would not return.  The Phoenix summoned from within the Heart had consumed him to live, consumed him for us to live.  

I am still processing this.  My heart misses him dearly, but I know he would not want me to dwell on him overly much.  He would want me to fulfill my oath, to stand by the declarations I made the night I was reforged.  That I would pledge my life, word, and honor to the defense of Quel’thelas, that I would be clean, honest, merciful, and brave.

I am still processing this.

Thirty Days, Ten Hours from incident: I cannot stop thinking about that moment, when Alazar rose from the Heart.  It was not Tyril, I know that.  But his rise gave me a feeling, something that I cannot really describe.  It was...warm.  Loving.  Like an embrace, but not.  I cannot...I need to think on this.

Thirty Days, Ten Hours, Six Minutes from incident:  The best way to put it is that I felt something.  

That is no more clear than before.  

Come on, Siildore, you can do better than that.

Thirty Days, Ten Hours, Fifteen Minutes from incident: It had to be the Light, but it was so...beautiful and warm.  Like holding my daughter in a hug, hearing her gush about a recent lover, the voice she makes when she holds frosty or silver.  A kiss shared with Feyrintha, leaning against her after making love, the smiles we share when we are alone.  My brother calling me Tannis or Siily, when I call him little Ithy right back.  The hug we shared when we first spoke to each other after learning about our connection.  It is in the way Faervell prods and plays, flirting just up to the line before Esme rolls her eyes and sighs.  It was a smile passed between Catriah and myself, the laugh I hear in Daxxle’s jokes, the ludicrous things he says about his factory.  The advice he gave me so long ago.  The tables we all used to sit around, laughing and talking for hours on end.  The drinks we shared at the Faire, when Zalin taught me to poison them so I could get drunk.  It was the fire that Caeliri made for me when I was paralyzed, the dawn we watched from her cottage window.  It is the way that Zalin looks at Elleynah, and the way she blushes and reddens when she looks back.  The announcement of Ellasha and Telchis’s child, and the rounds of congratulations and well-wishes that came after it.  When Feyrintha and I moved my things into our apartment, and we stood on the balcony, together, looking out into the city.  It was the way a mother carries her child, close to her breast and protected from the world; When Ith and I held hands as Tarianna advanced on us.  

When Caeliri was born, and I heard her first cries.  She was pressed into my arms, and I cried right along with her.

Thirty Days, Ten Hours, Twenty-Six Minutes after incident:  I keep trying to find a way to put into concrete terms what I felt, and nothing ever does it justice.  I cannot put it single terms, or even a very descriptive sentence.  How do you describe holding your daughter as she cries over her lost love? How can you put words to the simple act of holding a lover’s hands? I cannot…

Thirty Days, Ten Hours, Thirty-Four Minutes after incident: Love.  It was love, real...real love.  The Light is love, it is compassion, it is...real.  Not the facsimile emotions I felt from before.  It is...something.  I need to think a moment longer.

Thirty Days, Ten Hours, Fifty-Five Minutes after incident: It is clean.  It is honest.  It is merciful.  It is brave.  It is love.  That is all I can say the Light is.  It is the closest way I can describe it, what I felt.  What I feel now.  

I need to speak with Caeliri about this, with Elleynah.  They need to know.  

@dorksworn @stormandozone for mentions and medical records, @she-wants-the-d20 for Feyrintha mentions.  A lot of other people were name dropped, I’ll add them here: @cynfuldax @jessipalooza @pyrar @teamdoodledork (I think, I hope that’s Reynllin’s tumblr) @curiouslich

[teamdoodledork]

(this is Avada!) Does Reynllin hold much loyalty to the Red Flight as a whole, since he was raised in Quel'thalas? If Alexstrasza were to call her brood, would he answer?

The moment Alexstraza calls for her brood, he would be one of the first to answer, to be honest. He did for the Nexus War and despite how rough that turned out to be, he would do it again. He holds Quel’thalas as his foster home, and through time he has deemed the Burning Isle as his own little haven and is simply -helping- the elves and half-elven who live there to have peaceful lives. In truth though the Isle has been shaped through centuries of his magic to match exactly how he figured Alexstraza would want it to look like.