#aeondra celestare

[smoke-and-stilettos]

Forbidden

The Estate never really quieted down, even as those currently working on it had. Reality had begun to set in for many, and for the others, they already knew what to expect. Aurelia was focusing on much of the superficial work. Cleaning, making sure any Void relics made it safely to the Caravan, and ensuring that any of Aeondra's silverleaf was moved safely to her bedroom. She'd hardly slept and had barely spoken more than a few words to any contractors. She'd kept to herself, mostly, and just generally tried to stay out of everyone else's way. One side of the downstairs had been well focused on, and eventually she made her way to the other side. To the staircase no one had yet gone near. It hadn't struck her as odd that it had been left untouched; she just assumed people were focused on other parts of the estate. Setting down her broom and with her lantern floating over her shoulder, she began to move some of the heavier items out of the way. Any tables or furniture in the area had to be carefully moved to to the caravan to make room.

This staircase is directly across from its pair, and both head downwards. However, this one is rather... unvisited. Dusty, aged, the air that permeates from it is acrid and ancient. Stale. This could lead to the assumption that, unlike the stairs in the foyer that head up, these two downwards staircases do not conjoin to the same room. It's especially dark down there.

Her eyes glance to the stairwell, and she looks up at some of the contractors working. They seemed to have it handled; she'd be far more help if she could make more space. Abandoning her current post, she makes her way over to the stairs. It’s really dark, and in an effort to illuminate the space, she grabs hold of her floating lantern, holding it out in front of her as she steps down them. The air is thick and musty and she makes a face as she descends.

The staircase comes down to a door with little space to place oneself - as in, the door is nearly right at the foot of the stairs. A plaque at the right, newer than the stairwell but still easily thousands of years old, reads in Darnassian: 'DO NOT ENTER.'

Aurelia never considered herself fluent in Darnassian, but she had a rudimentary understanding of the language. She holds the lantern over the plaque, reading the words. She can make out Do and Not, and her brain automatically fills in Enter. Still, if this was where the items were that Riizen wanted out, she had made the promise to do it. She tries the door handle.

At first, the door doesn't budge. The handle does, but it's hard on the arms to actually turn. Once done, pushing it open comes a little easier. Aurelia puts all her weight into the door, pushing it up open. She stumbles inside and catches her balance. She holds the lantern up, looking around.

The room beyond is even darker, completely unlit. Another staircase leads down to the left, and there's a door right across the way. To the right is a flat wall.She steps to the door and tries the handle there. This one comes much easier - it’s likely the lock on the previous door, for whatever reason, deteriorated. Odd, nothing else in the home seems to be in disrepair... The door opens with ease and she steps inside, nose immediately assaulted by whatever rotting carcass might be hidden in the room. This room, dark as it is, becomes slowly apparent as a kitchen. It smells foul in here, though. As if something died in the walls - or on the cutting boards. Aurelia gags and covers her nose, holding the lantern out. It’s devoid of any actual kitchen equipment and cookware, barren and empty. Furniture could still be found here, but that's it.

It’s obvious the room hadn't been used in years, possibly thousands of them. Unable to stay in here another moment, she backs out and closes the door. She inhales deeply when she's out, trying to catch her breath before she makes her way to the stairs.

This next staircase seems to go on for quite a while, winding and folding back on itself a few times. The darkness is pervasive, and before long, she comes into a large, wide chamber. The ceiling doesn't extend very high, but each side wall is about 10 feet from the respective edge of the door. That same smell comes from here, and it's much more potent. She releases her grip on the lantern and allows it to float beside her as she steps to the door. She has to cover her mouth again as she opens it. All she sees is darkness at first. Then... Skeletons. Not just a few - the floors and walls hold somewhere between twenty and eighty. They all have tusks, and all seem to be much larger than a human, or an elf, but still humanoid. Some bones are about to crumble into ash, and some are a meager twenty years old at most. She jumps back with a yelp. She accidentally steps on a bone and it disintegrates beneath her feet and she lets out another shriek. What kind of secret was Aeondra hiding?!

With the lantern floating out into the room, the fixtures become much more visible. There's 'tables' present, but they're more like racks meant for torture. Another skeleton rests up one, the most recent to die, but still old enough that all of its flesh has rotted away. A butcher's knife is found slammed into this rack, covered in ancient dust and what could possibly be dried blood. But again, it's been so long, it's hard to say. The same material coats the rack, and the floor surrounding it.

She can feel the bile sizing up her throat and she gags and retches.  Nothing comes up as her stomach is empty, but it certainly doesn't stop her body from trying. "Oh, gods..." Her eyes scan the room, illuminated by the lantern. Had Aeondra done this?

Scattered around the tables and racks here would be several other skeletons - and these would be different from the others. Where the others had tusks and were large in scale, most of the others lashed to the tables and racks appeared to be human-esque. It's hard to say if they were elves, humans, or some other race, as they're all pretty similar in that regard...

Every fiber in Aurelia’s body screamed at her to get out, but her curiosity got the better of her. She swallows the bile in her mouth and covers her nose and lips with her sleeve. She looks over the humanoid skeletons and it chills her to her very core. She’d severely underestimated whatever her friend had been up to in her past.

Nearing these corpses, a pang of void energy sparks up above - back at the kitchen she discovered earlier. These other skeletons... have some sort of connection above.

She looks up, as if she’d be able to see whatever void connection was going on between these skeletons and the ones above through the ceiling. She grabs the lantern with her free hand and holds it over one of the skeletons, leaning in close. She’s measuring with her eyes, trying to pinpoint the exact race of one in particular.

There's no spirits lingering here, thankfully. The skeleton she looks at in particular appears vaguely human, its bones a bit thicker than her own.

A chill goes down her spine and she backs out, carefully as to not crush or destroy anymore skeletons. If something was down here hiding, she didn’t want to disturb it.  She’s apprehensive about turning her back to the room and continues to back out until she’s past the threshold. She closes the door as fast as she can and leans against the wall, retching again.

The room behind her is thankfully host to naught but those skeletons. No force chases her, no presence watches her. It's calm. It's quiet. She's all alone down here. The only living soul to have visited in years. The void connection above is weak - though not due to distance.

She’s finally able to make her way back up the longest staircase ever, whispers going through her head. No words in particular are discernible from the next as she ascends. It feel like hours before she makes it back up. She wipes her sweaty palms against her dress and steps through the kitchen door again. She looks around, trying to find the source of the connection.

There appears to be a trap door snug against one of the corners of the wall. It's not locked, and it's rather easy to lift. Looking down inside would reveal a ladder-staircase, and what appears to be some sort of wine cellar. It's completely devoid of wine, instead stocked with what appears to be enchanted robes and personal effects. Robes far too small, or in some cases too big, for Aeondra to wear, and all heralding the Old Gods. She gasps softly, her eyes scanning the room. Were these the items Riizen meant for her to get out? She didn’t even know if Riizen knew about the room. The noise in her head increases in volume but she still can’t make out any distinguishable words. This was dark, very dark.

Lifting some of them, she'd note that some sets of robes and finery were heavier than others. Inspection would usually yield a tome that's been lost to time, or a pouch of useless, dried reagents. Though occasionally, ritual knives, daggers, and other assorted weaponry can be identified.In addition to these items, a full set of avian-like armor could be found down here. It's about Riizen's measurements, and adorned in a similar manner to all other gear present.

Aurelia is careful as she investigates the robes. She doesn’t want to harm them. She pulls out an old tome and opens it, words jumping out at her. They’re familiar. Cultist words. She closes the tome carefully and sets it aside to examine the armor. The knot in her stomach tightens and she brings the lantern over to inspect it. She is apprehensive about removing this from Aeondra’s home, but she promised Riizen if she found it, she would.

This almost feels like a funerary pile - where dead people's belongings have been thrown into a pit unceremoniously.

She’s careful as she brings the items up ladder, starting with the armor in Riizen’s size. Anxiety sits in her stomach as she sets it carefully on the floor before descending into the room again. The tome comes next, followed by the robes she’d pulled them from. She drops down into the room again and moves on to another set of robes, a set far too large for Aeondra to wear. She assumes none of these belong to her, rather that they belong to the skeletons below, but she has no proof.

The rooms are fully explored now. The last of Aeondra's secrets are uncovered. Now, the trek back up can begin - and the thoughts of what Aurelia has seen can linger.

{{ Mentions: @riizendraconis, @celestare. Cowritten with: @celestare }}

[absinthe-and-sin]

The dagger gifted to her by her Lady did not sing as the darkness coalesced all around Octavia, its tendrils wrapped around her brain to choke the thoughts in her mind: “Have you forgotten where you came from, little one? The streets raised you, the curse gave you meaning — not the people you so blindly follow now. Look in the mirror, my girl. Do you even recognize yourself anymore? You’ve gotten so caught up in falsified documents that you don’t even know who you are. That beast. That stray.”

It started slowly, the darkness entering her vision from the corner of her eyes, mimicking the shadows cast on the walls by the fire. She paid them no mind at first, her attention on book in her hands. Soon enough, the pages became darker and darker and the Gilnean lifted her eyes, looking around. 

The words chilled her to the bones as they strangled all other thoughts, expelling anything unrelated to what they wanted her to hear. The book fell from her fingers, silently falling to the floor. Her suddenly free hands gripped the sheets and she gasped.

The vision came across her mind’s eye like she was living it again. The chill in the air, the smell of burning oil. Every strike against her skin by the madam. Bruises formed instantly on her ribs and face, mirroring those of the past. The scar on her arm burning, the feel of flesh melting in the powerful jaws of the beast and the poison of the curse coursing through her veins, setting her blood on fire.

Every bone in her body shattering one by one and rebuilding, piecing itself together like a jigsaw puzzle. Her skin ripping apart, her jaw dislocating as the beast inside rears its ugly head. Clean fingernails extending into claws, teeth sharpening into deadly weapons of their own right.

Octavia couldn’t move, her mind clouded by shadows and the excruciating pain that came with the shift. She gulped precious air, the hoarse breathing of the beast the only sound coming from her.

“I am not… a stray…” Her voice raspy with the change, but hushed, lest she wake the sleeping form next to her. 

Still the darkness moved through her thoughts, reminding her of the monster inside. Wringing every inkling of hope she may have had.

“I’m one of them…”

But are you?

This voice was not the darkness. It was her own.

Are you really one of them? Or are you just a tool they use for their own satisfaction? 

She has no answer at first, as the subconscious voice of doubt echoes in her mind.

You’ll never be one of them. You’ll always be the stray. A runt.

“I’m what I choose to become!”

The darkness disappeared, and the room was silent save for the crackling fire. Octavia was where she had been the entire time, laid on the bed in human form. Her grip loosened on the sheets and Aeondra stirred beside her, asleep and away from whatever it was Octavia had just experienced.

Leaning over, Octavia carefully lifted the book from the floor, her eyes glued to the dagger as it sat silently, unaware of any danger.

{{ mentions: @celestare }}

[riizev2]

Wandering Eyes

The trail of smoke following Riize through Stormwind City zigged and zagged as she passed the Slaughtered Lamb. She didn’t like that she was smoking again, but it calmed her nerves in crowded areas. It was something good to do while thinking. The terrace overlooking the ocean was her favorite part of the city. Nowhere else had such a magnificent view of the harbor and the ocean. The park was decent, but the memorial to the late King Varian drew too many onlookers

-----

“Strixena? I think she died. Again. I don’t really know and I don’t care to find out.”

-----

The Night Elf’s pale skin was hidden by her purple leather armor, wraps of cloth covering as much of her arms and legs as possible. The long-brimmed bicorn hat cast a shadow over her face, hiding her onyx piercings and purple tattoos. The Eye of C’thun was far more prominent now that she had cut her hair

-----

“I think I saw Aeondra a few months back, but I don’t think I’ve heard anything since then.”

-----

The streets of Stormwind may have been the same, but the people had changed. They were armed, angry. Their eyes followed her wherever she walked. A day didn’t go by where civilians kept to themselves. Now everyone had an opinion on the Void. On what lurked within. They didn’t know what she knew about it.

-----

“I don’t know who that is, sorry.” “Yeah, sorry. Ain’t ever heard of a Saelkath before.”

-----

The glares of her onlookers would be met by more eyes. Riize’s skin had taken a bad habit of splitting and revealing eyes and ichor underneath. A monster, they had called her, running to find a guard to chase her down. Even prospective allies and contacts asked if they were supposed to kill her. Those who were still around were at least willing to talk...

-----

“The Director? I don’t think she came back from the war... the one with N’zoth.”

-----

Her leads were slim. The world seemed so much darker. There were fewer people she knew. Fewer contacts. Fewer resources. More anger. The Scarlets were out marching in the city again, telling people that they knew how to repel the darkness. She would have to show them how little they knew. Not before finding Saelkath or Kat if they were even still alive.

-----

“And what of you, Riize? How are you holding up?”

"I don’t know yet.”

------

Characters mentioned: @celestare​ @saelkath-alzarah​ @kat-hawke​

Characters featured but not mentioned by name: @eilitheduskbringer​

[kyphaz]

Aeondra Celestare

Commission for @celestare

[killerkyara]

Kyara warmed her hands around a steaming cup of coffee, her gaze fixated out of the drafty window to her right. They always met in public places like this, cafes or bars or distinguishable landmarks otherwise, in the interest of keeping their private lives private. Not that Kyara didn’t feel comfortable sharing; she simply felt no need to.

Maelthir slid into the seat in front of her right on time. No greeting was offered. He shed his coat, eyed her a moment, and finally decided, “You look like shit.”

She chuffed, wrapping tattooed fingers around the handle of her mug. “Thanks.”

He tilted forward a bit, peering into her coffee, inspecting the shade of it. “No booze?”

She shook her head. “No. Trying to move away from it, you know. Smoking too.” Her leg bounced restlessly beneath the table as she spoke, a testament to that fact.

“So you have a woman on your mind.”

Kyara glances upward abruptly at his statement, her brows coming to furrow. “What?”

He wore a ghost of a smirk, a knowing perk of the lips, as he looked at her. “Come on, Grey. We both know you don’t do shit for yourself.”

She scoffs in turn, a defensive noise, leaning back some until her shoulderblades smacked into her chair. “...I am not doing it for her.” She answers, if not indirectly. “But for Matin, and my own benefit, yes. Waste of time, money,”

“That why you called me here?” He perked an ebon-colored brow. “Have to admit, I was surprised to hear from you. Wanted me to fuck off to the other side of the world, was it?”

Fair enough, after his third time retrieving her for service of some sort, for yet another battle, from Legionfall to Nazjatar, she’d vowed to shut the door on his face if he tried again.

“Something like that.” She agreed, pausing as a waitress arrived to deliver a pair of bagels, cheese, jam. Only when the woman was out of earshot did Kyara continue. “I spoke with an old friend of mine, a warden, a night ago...”

“Her name?”

She blinked at him. “Celestare. Aeondra Celestare.”

He considered it. “Sounds familiar.” She was beckoned to go on with a flick of a nod.

“Right. Well, she mentioned a...ritual of some sort, something to help me get a better grip on myself.” Even though she knew he would understand what she meant without explaining, she still looked down to pick at her pants, uncomfortably so. “What do you know about Elune’s magic? How it would interact with the void?”

His eyebrows lofted, subtly hinting his surprise. He looks down as he thinks, spreading cheese over his bagel with a quick one-two swipe of his knife. “...She’s likely referring to a purifying ritual. Water from blessed wells has been known to do such. Would be safer than the Light, but.” He pauses, taking a bite and chewing it thoughtfully.

“...There would still be risks involved, especially with your unique circumstances. You sure you want to go down this route?”

She nods, staring down into her cup. “Think so, so long as it wouldn’t impair my work.”

“Still working for that captain?” He wonders.

Kyara shook her head. She had never told him about her old crew, but he had his ways of figuring things out. “No. Someone else. A business here in the city.”

He hummed at that, probing further, even if he knew it would be a fruitless venture. “Going to tell me about it?”

“Nope.” She says, popping the ‘p’. Her bagel was taken up to go, carried with her as she slid out of her chair. “...I want you to be there when it happens, Mael. To pull me out if things go south. You owe me that much.”

He met her sharp gaze without fault, one of few individuals who could withstand such. “Of course, Miss Grey...If you tell me about your new flame.”

“No.” The assurance is tossed over her shoulder. She did not look back as she left the cafe, but she could imagine the smile he wore, one that was quickly covered by a newspaper.

[ mentions: @maelthir, @quai-mason, @celestare ]

[high-justiciar]

war, unescapable

The sun was nearing it’s descent towards the horizon, but had not yet arrived; this dark, these hours before, was a darkness Siphiah tolerated, enjoyed even, for the promise of a brilliant dawn permeated it all, hung in the stars like a barely spoken whisper. 

She was not sure of much these days, but the sun would rise, just as assuredly as it would set.

The Commander had not been sleeping well. Her circadian clock had shifted backwards a few hours, it appeared, just so she would be awake at this time, in this extreme quiet, so she could ponder. What a cruelty. And yet, perhaps, justified for her crimes.

What was it, this doubt, that gripped at her throat and hung heavy in her stomach like a stone. It blocked not only her mind, but her flesh; intimacy had not been shared lately, touch looked away from. A sheen of steel covered her senses, like those old times. No amount of effort could bring her to feel.

She knew, of course she knew. One could not live this long and not know when they were pretending. This sheep’s clothing was suffocating her. She stretched her limbs in it, wore it now half askew. It could not be worn forever. 

She thought of prying it off her flesh. Her ears twitched as a thrill sent through her, a spark of adrenaline. She was hungry. Her fingers tightened around the mug of green tea she held, testing the ceramic, pleased when she was easily able to bring it to the brink of shattering apart. Her gaze remained fixated outside of the east facing window, itching to see the light.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

She did not react at first, fearing that her mind was truly hanging off its hinges. No one would be out here. No one would know. And yet, a few breaths later she heard it again, louder this time, less timid.

She surged toward the door, silently, like a wraith. She considered grabbing her sword, or perhaps Aeondra’s sidearm, though remembered with a bit of a start that she was a weapon. Loaded, cocked, ready to fire. Her palms felt hot, fingertips searing into the metal of the lock as she pulled it free and flung open the front door, her energy getting the best of her.

There stood her Squire. It took her a moment to recognize him, to affirm that it truly was Deus standing here, that he had found her in — Gods, Desolace. What was there in Desolace? Aptly named, she thought. She held onto the doorframe, finding herself rarely speechless.

Deus’s expression melted from relief, concern, to a grim look of coolness within a moment. “...Dawnbane.” He offers.

“Deus.” She manages in turn, licking her lips. “How did you...?”

“It took some time.” He answers, anticipating the question. His hands clasped behind him with a low sigh. “I’ve only just recently returned from Pandaria…”

“Why.” The question — more like an order, out of habit — was ejaculated aggressively, as she shut the door behind her. 

He eyed her surreptitiously then, choosing his words with great caution. “...You truly do not know.” He whispered, smoothing out his tunic. “Sif, Old God influence has swept across Azeroth. Uldum, the Vale, and it will continue to spread, still. The void runs rampant. Everyone is saying that N’zoth plans to revive the Black Empire.”

Siphiah blinks, struggling to process the given information. She understood it, surely — she was well read enough to know the implications of what he was suggesting, but it was hard to fathom nonetheless. “How bad is it.”

“Seeing it is much worse than any description I could give.” Deus admits, knowing that she would appreciate his candor. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, anxiously pondering his next words. “I came here to ask for your help. I cannot...I cannot bear it on my own, I’ve tried.”

The Commander hangs her head with a low exhale. “Deus.” She breathes. “I have no title anymore, no authority. You have no duty to me.”

He looked briefly hesitant, but threw caution to the wind, closing in to clasp her at the shoulder. She looks up, surprised.

“I do not come to you as a Squire, or even a solider of the Horde. This is far beyond that.” He pauses to gather up his confidence. “I come to you as a desperate friend, and a comrade. Please, Siphiah.”

She glances down to him, golden eyes meeting, a genuinely rare understanding shared between the two of them. After a long pause, she allows, “I am grateful that I still have your allegiance. After everything.”

He nods, releasing her, and the moment is gone. She steps inside, her icy demeanor obscuring the excitement she felt at the prospect of being on the battlefield once more.

“I will get into my armor, and leave a note for Celestare.”

[ @celestare ]

[olivia-lovecraft]

"~"

Opinion Prompt

“Aeondra Celestare,” Olivia stated with an almost mimicking depth to her voice. It was not mockery, but rather a recollection. The way the warden had introduced herself had left an impression. “She is a lovely woman. Very intense, as I find many Kaldorei to be. However, although she commands a physique and presence I envy, she carried it all like a shield rather than a weapon. I suspect her severity protects her sadness. That may be conjecture, though. I have been working with Kaldorei refugees for the last year and I have started to empathize very deeply with the loss they have experienced. It echoes in me because I cannot return to the place that had represented my home.”

Feeling that she was getting off-topic, Olivia took a moment of silence to grieve her loss and the loss of Teldrassil and then returned to her point.

“Aeondra and I have really only met in passing but she is the sort of woman I believe I would benefit from knowing. Though, I really don’t know if a warden would find the same benefit from the company of a warlock. Time will tell if we are meant to be more than acquaintances, and until then I will admire her presence when I see her.”

[Thank you for the ask, @celestare!]

[bisexecutioner]

👄 + Aeondra

“Well, firstly, allow me to get my prejudices out of the way; in my experience, as the eons pass, the vibrancy of life gets stretched quite thin for those of us who have lived through them all. Thus, I often struggle to hold any and all conversation with her kind, and some of my own, on that note.”

”I have met her briefly, I believe, and if I’m remembering correctly, she was quite...Hm.” She thinks on this a moment. “Well, she did not have the taciturnity nor the air of haughty wisdom we come to associate with our nearly-immortal. Frankly, I’m not sure whether that is a blessing or a curse. Perhaps the years have simply eroded away at her mind till there was nothing left. I would need some more experience to say.”

[ @celestare I’m so sorry she’s picked up on her bimbo tendencies in the worst way. luv u ]

[monster-of-master]

Tell me

           Put a “Tell me" in my ask and my character will answer…        

If you snuck into my room I would:

[ x ] Go back to sleep                 [  ] Kick you out [  ] Cuddle with you                   [  ] Be like “How in the world?” [  ] Let you sleep on the floor    [  ] Become angry      [ x ] Talk first

“Aeondra also bears the dubious honor of also being one that I could perhaps rest easy in the company of. Primarily due to the fact that I am certain she would not try to molest me while I slept.”

If you kissed me (or hugged) I would:

[  ] Kiss or hug you back                       [  ] Smile and laugh [  ] Stiffen, and feel uncomfortable        [  ] Push you away [ x ] Be shocked                                       [  ] Strike you

“Alas, regrettably for me and many others, she does not favor men. I s’pose however if she were of the mind to get a reaction both poor and hilarious from me, this would be a fine way to do it.”

If you asked me to go out with you for a day I would say:

[  ] No          [ x ] Yes          [  ] Most certainly not.          [ ] Without hesitation.

“Our last outing was remarkably entertaining. I was the one who picked the locale, and so I would be extremely interested in seeing if she could manage to topple the exquisite atmosphere of the destination I brought us to. It will be difficult, but I imagine that she is more than up to the task. If I may make a suggestion? I always did want a tour of a vault, that was not my own. She could even lock me up, if she enjoys a bit of roleplay..”

You are:

[  ] Cute          [  ] Adorable          [ x ] Attractive          [ x ] Beautiful [  ] Okay         [  ] Ugly                 [  ] Am not going to grace this with an answer

“I love a woman swathed head to toe in metal that can potentially snap me in half, if she were so inclined. Mistake me not, though, and know that her allure extends far beyond simply that. There are other things, too ..”

You are to me a:

[  ] Stranger          [ x ] Acquaintance          [ x ] (potential) Ally [  ] Friend              [  ] Love                        [  ] Rival

[  ] Enemy

“.. ‘tis a shame that my plan fell through in the worst of ways, when she and I were poised to birth some rather spectacular together. Still, I have plans for the near future and I have little doubt I will come to call on her expertise again for one or more occasion, to help me move my pieces across the chessboard. If she can stand my company, that is, after we parted ways so messily.”

I find you to be:

[  ] Pathetic          [  ] Off no consequence          [ x ] Intriguing [  ] Frightening     [  ] Unsettling                          [  ] Annoying [ x ] Infuriating       [ x ] Pleasant company            [  ] Comforting [  ]  Unable to be lived without                            [  ] Trustworthy

“Someone remind me to adopt a different tact when dealing with her in these future endeavors. She did not respond as I had hoped she would, initially. I s’pose a more careful hand might be required to win her over to myself, completely.”

( @celestare )

[preyontheweak]

full name:  Alexandria Katia Imortis pronunciation: (al-ig-zan-dree-uh) (kah-tee-uh) (uh-mor-tis) nicknames: Admiral, Alexa, Admiral, Imortis height: 5′9″ age: Thirty-five zodiac: Aires languages: Common, Thalassian, Darnassian

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

hair colour: Onyx eye colour:  Persian Blue skin tone: Sun-kissed body type: Muscular | Mesomorph accent: Kul Tiran - Minor dominant hand: Right handed posture: Militant | Straight-backed | Proper scars: Fresh slash that runs from cheek to cheek in a horizontal manner, connected from the bridge of the nose. Vertical line that adorns the entire right side, from underneath the arm to hook to the hipbone. Numerous nicks from various battles are seen upon flesh when without glamour. tattoos: Black band that encircles her right bicep, two mini small canons that overlap reside between the thumb and forefinger,  a nautical star folded inside a compass resides on the center of her back, and “hold fast” is written in small lettering on the inside of her fingers upon both hands. most noticeable features: Sharp jawline, full lips, gaze that cuts through the intended target.

CHILDHOOD

place of birth: Kul Tiras hometown: Boralus, Kul Tiras birth weight/height: 7 pd 11 oz / 21 inches manner of birth: Natural first words: “Boat. Dad.” siblings: Victor Imortis, Veronika Imortis, Alister Imortis ,Vandiron Sungazer parents:  Mother: Victoria Imortis | Father: Alexander Imortis parental involvement: Noble mother, involved heavily in house politics and trade. Father traveled a lot due to profession, currently is a Marshal of the Kul tiran infantry.

ADULT LIFE

Occupation: Rear-Admiral, Grand Alliance Navy Current residence: Boralus, Kul Tiras Close friends: Rei Kastor | Aeondra Celestare  | Kynsinith Irevine  | Kat Hawke | Lt. Ironedge | Victoria Bloodworth relationship status: It’s Complicated financial status: Well-Off, Born Rich vices: Sex, gambling, drugs, liquor, tobacco, women

SEX & ROMANCE

sexual orientation: Pansexual romantic orientation: Demiromantic preferred emotional role:  submissive | dominant | switch  |  unsure preferred sexual role:  submissive  | dominant  |  switch |  sex repulsed libido: Unusually high turn ons: Intelligence, arrogance, confidence, a challenge turn offs: Undeath, victimization, mansplaining, laziness, poor etiquette  love language: Physical Touch  relationship tendencies: Possessive, jealous, quick to anger, overwhelmingly protective, fiercely loyal when won over.

MISCELLANEOUS

hobbies to pass the time:  Lifting, drawing, sailing, wood-crafting, playing the violin mental illnesses: Borderline Personality Disorder physical illnesses: Not applicable left or right brained: Left brained fears: Dishonoring her family or heritage, failing at something monumental, dying without anyone recalling her life. self confidence level: High vulnerabilities: Shadow magic, a certain Priest, her loyal canine, the bloodline, and the look of a thousand splendid amber suns.

Tagged by: @celestare | @kat-hawke

Tagging: @singing-over-bones | @salt-water-siren | @summysparklesprocket | @madame-miersae | @kynire | @ravenpriest | @oathandsword | @the-warbound-seraph

[smoke-and-stilettos]

❤

Affectionate; 

Holding hands | Cheek kisses | Hugs from behind | Cuddling | Hand kiss | PDA | Spooning | Shared baths | Whispers | Affectionate texts | Caressing | Stroke hair | No displays of affection

Sex; Shower sex | Wall sex | Neck bites | Oral | Morning sex | Drunk sex | Public sex | Backseat of car | BDSM | No sex

Dates;Picnic | Cinema | Restaurant | Sports game | Hike | Coffee | Museum | Club | Bar | Beach | No dates

Would my character…

Marry them? Yes | No Have sex on the first date? Yes | NoConfess their attraction first? Yes | No Have children/adopt? Yes | No Die for your character? Yes | No Cheat on your character? Yes | No Lie to them? Yes | No Cuddle after sex? Yes | No

[diguerra-moved]

celestare  Sisters of the Moon Xal'atath whispers: I do so...

in my own headcanon, and how i portray it with aeondra, elune is her own god who is primordial, here since before the titans, and before the old gods

tbh it’s more or less how I see it too, because from what we know of her she really doesn’t fit as a titan or a naaru or an old god, and she’s clearly a very real entity with considerable power (enough power that she could cleanse ysera from void corruption). and her lack of action in other times can be easily explained with her having the capacity to intervene but choosing not to (although when it comes to bfa events apparently there is an actual reason why she did not save the nelves that is scenes of the next chapter, I mean, expac). it would also be in line with tyrande taking offense to velen claiming elune to be a naaru, as she would be something entirely different and more ancient (and possibly the one who created the naaru). out of all options, I think elune being something other than what we have seen of big powerful cosmic creatures really is what makes the most sense

[titanicmight]

I

V leaned over, casting the cigarette off to the side with careful motions, allowing a freehand to snag Aeondra’s offering with amusement and ease. Chilled thin glass rapidly found a new home against thin lips, while the curious stare filtered over the elf’s visage with a certain bout of hesitation obvious. Within a few precious moments, the vessel returned to its prior owner, empty, and leading to the built human to signal for a refill via the Tender.

“Thanks, I stole it from a far too righteous prick that caused me a great deal of trouble. Granted. I am sure that she believed that I deserved it, doubtful…”Trailing off, and commenting more to oneself, attention shifted to adorn the newest beverage that was placed before an eager body.

Content to lift the rocks glass to nostrils, a slow inhale of senses allowed the aged bourbon to flourish upon the palate. “Your garb, I assume it is something of a tradition with your people? I do not understand most of your customs.” Lips are wet with a slow drink, before polished Oxford’s are used to pivot muscle closer, attention skipping to rest upon her visage. 

“I’d apologize for my ignorance, but truthfully, I never had a reason to learn nor care.”

@celestare |

[alekyah]

━ @celestare

Aeondra keeps her eyes narrowed, thin lips already pressing together to grow even thinner. Setting her hands in front of her waist, folding bare digits together, the Warden replies curtly, “Common is not my first tongue, nor is it a tongue I have truly mastered. I have only used it for a few years now, out of the millennia I have been alive. Stumble, yes, but not for any reason other than inexperience. Just as one would fumble with a fork as a newborn.”

She smooths out the front of her robes for a moment, the hem only truly falling to her shin at best, the rest bare.

    An ever wandering eye consumes all there is to see of adornments and physique, settling at her own eye level only briefly in an ascent up to the other’s stare. The most minute of muscular tension draws attention amid a silent rumination. She exhales a laugh void of any confidence and lays a hand upon her hip to ease from the amusement, nonchalant again.

“Tell me, then,” She continues on, her steps coming to life to circle around Aeondra in continued survey of the Kaldorei. Ceasing at her side, a roll of soles on to heels alone rocks her upper body nearer to further question.

                                  “Why the stare?”

[kyphaz]

Warden Aeondra Celestare

Commission for @celestare  <3 

NSFW version here

[killerkyara]

Shephard to the Stars

Before —

Quai,

I am undertaking a dangerous mission for my own health. A ritual that will dampen the effects of the void on my mind and body, if successful. It has all gotten worse as of late; I fear that if I don’t do something now, I could end up sharing in Wellson’s fate.

There are risks involved, risks that I have given much thought to. Given recent events, my threshold is already lowered. While I do regret to thrust this burden upon you — in the event that I do not return home, I ask that you take care of Matin in my stead. He loves you more than you know, and I trust you more than anyone on this plane or beyond. 

And if I do return, let it be known, then, that I’d have you as my successor.

My eternal thanks,

Grey.

[Edited rp with @celestare​.]

Thick clouds swarmed the skies starting in the Barrens. The duo progressed into the bowels of a building thunderstorm; by the time they landed, rain had begun to fall, soaking hair and clothes, moisture trapped in the humid atmosphere of the desert. Kyara instructs Aeondra on where to land. Up north, bordering Tanaris, separated only by hills. The oasis was misty, quiet, though the shapes of lumbering crocodiles in the shallow water could be made out with a keen eye. 

After dismounting, Kyara nods once, surveying the scene. "...This is where I most often hid from my father, when I had the chance to run. Camped among the trees." Her gaze followed the tall palms up into the sky, until their trunks disappeared into the fog.

“A solitary oasis.” Aeondra notes, solemn and gentle. She steps to Kyara’s side and holds out her right hand, palm facing up. “The stone, if you would. And prepare to enter the water. I will keep you safe from the reptiles, pay them no mind.”

Kyara nods. She draws out a bracelet from her belt; it was a sterling silver piece, meticulously crafted. Set in the pendant was a brilliant, glowing moonstone, one that shown like a lantern-light in the mist. She pries it from its setting with her bare hands, passes it off, and removes her boots to wade into the water.

Aeondra takes the gem. Her eyes linger on it for a time, before she leads Kyara to the water’s edge. She holds out her left hand, clearly showing her intent before she commits to the action of grabbing Kyara’s wrist. She pulls her further into the water, stopping when Kyara is up to her knees. 

“This may be painful. I am going to attempt to use your arm as the conduit...Keep it raised out toward me.” She takes her hand away, and uses it to fetch a vial of moonwell water. She pours it over the surface of the stone slowly, singing in an ancient hymn; one whose words are lost in any modern translation.

Kyara’s expression was steely, fierce, with droplets running down her face, slipping over her cheekbones and lips. Bangs slicked to her forehead, covered her eyes some. She exhaled a low breath and kept her arms out steady.

The stone resonates on contact with the holy water. The rivulets that pour over it mingle with the surface of the pool. Specks of moonlight trail throughout the oasis, suspended in the clear water. Aeondra continues her hymn, singing it quietly. As she focuses, her eyes shut, and the stone shines brighter. 

Gradually it seems to crumble in Aeondra’s grip, her fingers pushing against and molding it. The stone is soon liquified, coating the Warden’s digits and palms in a sparkling, resplendent light. Her eyes open again, and she reaches out to take Kyara’s extended arm. One hand to the wrist, one to the forearm. The touch would feel strange; power thrums in the Warden’s hands, simultaneously distance, yet deeply personal. 

As though the stars above have come to Azeroth’s surface to interact with Kyara, and Kyara alone.

A gasp-like breath sounded from the rogue, drowned out by the pouring rain. She shudders at the sensation which passed through Aeondra and soaked into her own being. Where the rain touched her flesh now, it felt ice cold, revitalizing. She stares straight ahead, focusing on the Warden's expression, wide-eyed, expectant.

Aeondra meets her gaze, sharing in the contact as she presses her fingers firmer into the agent’s flesh. Her skin would start to become more translucent as the moon’s power courses within, and Aeondra migrates her touch further up the arm. The pouring rain streaks through the Warden’s soaked hair, but she does not seem disrupted by it. Her power pushes on, beyond the physical. It endeavors to find the lingering shade, and ‘wrap’ itself about. A containing effort, but with N’Zoth’s growing influence in the world, variable can prove far less predictable.

The intrusion takes Kyara by surprise; clinging to the taller woman, she forces herself to not give out at the knees, as the ethereal power transcends into flesh. There was not one source, one single mote of corruption within her that could be dealt with, pruned, like a weed; rather, it permeated her, ran in the blood, and reacted violently to being encroached upon. Though Kyara did not move, her flesh did; like worms beneath the skin, darkness skitters, crawls, retreating from their shared touch, darkening her veins a sickly purple.

The silt beneath the Warden’s feet does not move despite this development, the amount of shadow within Kyara proving hostile. She does not pour more energy into it yet, only maintaining the current level. She keeps her eyes locked with Kyara’s, and states, “It is too much to dampen. It is resisting violently.”

Kyara grits her teeth, fighting her way through it, the flopping of her stomach around in her own body, the movement beneath flesh. "Keep going." She orders. "I cannot return, not without something to show of it. Keep going." She nods, meeting eyes with her, fiercely determined.

In that moment, it is made clear that she realized the stakes, planned for them even; either this worked, or she would die trying.

Aeondra keeps her stare level, and states, “If you die from this, I will shepherd you to the stars.” Whether that is meant to comfort is a mystery, but she surges forward, putting both of her hands to Kyara’s head instead of her arm. She focuses, pouring an obscene amount of lunar magic through her palms, smearing Grey’s face in that liquified moonstone. 

Overhead, the clouds roll over each other like waves, gathering atop the pool, trapping the pair of them in air that was somehow both bone-chilling cold, and maddeningly warm. Lightning crackles in these towering columns, close enough that the sound of it was like a godly whip being cast across the sky, a sound that could be felt within the body. Kyara grounds herself against the assault upon her very self, pulling forth the same resolve that allowed her to step on a battlefield, that allowed her to love, brandishing it like a shield. 

The sensation of the void crawling from her flesh, collecting out of her back, was an otherworldly pain, a pain that could not be rightly described or even replicated to the same degree. It was one that prevented a cry, prevented any noise to make her agony known. Eyes rolled back into her head at it, but still she remained standing; it was unclear if this was due to her own accord, or that of something higher.

The cracks of thunder shake the Warden’s spine, but not her resolve. The thrum of the furious sky does not cause her to waver, but instead emboldens her. She pushes more of her weight into the effort; bending Kyara slightly backward as she digs her fingers tightly into the side of her head. The remnants of the moonstone streak down her cheeks, over the front of herself, their cooling wake giving that same distant power to her skin. Aeondra’s grip seems metaphysical; beyond the realm of mortal touch. It seeks to grab the whole of the shade within her, now that it has been disrupted and targets directly. She seeks to peel it straight from Kyara’s body, and launch it back to shore.

The essence is flung to the dunes, and there it coalesces, massing into an humanoid figure; a shade, that stood roughly at Kyara's build, her height, without any distinguishing features. There, it awaits — unmoving, but decidedly real. It was not a shadow, nor something incorporeal, but a wholly physical body.

The power it takes to rip it out is considerate; Aeondra is no stranger to pushing her boundaries, but the lack of sleep and the intensity of this effort leaves her vulnerable and panting. She releases Kyara, and slowly ramps down her magics, hoping that she can at least regain consciousness.

After being released, the rogue stumbles backward, blearily turning to face the darkness. She does not yet understand what she is seeing, but the contest has already begun. 

The shade engages, shimmering forth and slamming it's full weight into her body. She is knocked off her feet, sent several yards backward, landing where the water was deepest. It is a great struggle to lift herself out of it to stand.

The storm and presence of an empowered Aeondra are enough to keep other shadows, and wildlife at a distance, thankfully. Though she is not prepared for the shade’s lunge. She is also thrown back, landing in the water on her back, causing a truly massive splash. She stands, even more sluggish than Kyara. 

“This — this is your fight, Grey.” She manages to utter. “You have been blessed by my hand. Make...use. Of Elune’s power. Strike, and she will follow.”

Kyara is well and panting by now, spitting out brackish water, shaking it from her wet hair in her face, "But, I do not know-" She has no more time to question. The shade lunges across the water, and in a blind fury, Kyara launches a fist for it. Bright light sparkles in her wake; her punch impacts the creature with a loud hiss of something burnt, a crackle of angry thunder. It retreats backward, lingering at the shore a moment, wounded in some right. She gawks.

“Elune is not like any other.” Aeondra speaks only when Kyara succeeds in her strike, watching with a low approval, a hidden smile. “You only need to put yourself in her path. She will be at your back. She does not demand that you sing her name, or bask in her presence...You command yourself, to your best end. She will support you. I have made sure of it.”

Kyara glances to Aeondra, her expression solemn, understanding. Cloaked in light, she moves like a snake for the shore, startled as the shade meets her attack in equal measure; they clash uselessly at the arms, as if cancelling each other out. In the span of a breath, she realizes that if it holds her knowledge, skill, ability, she cannot fight like herself. 

As it swipes for her, she takes on a defensive position, dodging and leading the figure back into the glowing water, where she felt strongest.

Aeondra focuses on getting herself back to a functioning level. She remains in the pool, sitting within it, immersing herself. The portion of moonwell water starts to coalesce around her — as well as Kyara. In time, she would be well again. But for now, she is removed. 

The shadow is drawn into the pool, and wherever it meets contact with the sacred water suspended within, it seethes. Its face is a swirl of blackness, haunting and deep-set, though Kyara could feel herself  within the abyss. It rises from the water and lunges, aiming to spear her with dark clones of her own blades.

Kyara thinks like her own opponent, a daunting task in her state; though, perhaps all those training drills will prove useful. She sidesteps, using her own weight to her advantage, throwing herself over the shade to shove it down into the blessed waters. Her skin bristles where she touches it. Mentally, she battles a strong urge to let it envelop her once more, swallow her into a comforting embrace. Without it she feels naked, bare, but gradually growing in power.

In that moment of weakness, where Kyara only had herself to depend on, a swelling of Elune’s power courses through the places Aeondra touched her — through her face, the sides of her head, the translucent arm. The shadow merely tries to pull her in the water with it, its limbs trying around her own, in an inhuman manner, as though they were really tendrils. 

“Sink with me.” It sings, its voice a perfect replica of Kyara’s.

Kyara is grabbed with a start; the tendrils felt familiar, warm somehow, beckoning to her weary mind. She is pulled down to her knees, barely managing to keep her head and shoulders above water. Her entire face contorts with the strain, the energy it draws out of her.

The form of the being seems to be unraveling at its edges, though that is not seen by Aeondra. The periphery of the shadow becomes less and less refined, blurring and shifting incoherently. Its grip tightens around her limbs, seeking to pull her deeper into the water.

“Come, and drown. Let it all free. Let it all go.”

Kyara falters. As the tendril coils against the flesh of her chest, over the heart, her eyes widen. She doubles over suddenly, as if stabbed between the ribs; years of heartache, guilt, collapse into themselves, as the dark manifestation struck at where she was most vulnerable. It proves to disable her entirely. The void envelops her, sinking back into her flesh, stubbornly claiming it's place — defiant, even, in the face of Elune's celestial interference. 

The clouds, water, all seems to darken, grow cold.

“What my father would think of me now.” She could not help but think.

mentioned: @quai-mason​​, @brian-wellson​​