#peacebloom

[bellsisokay]

I’ve been horribly sick this weekend, so have a sneak peek into something I’ve been working on!

Ko-fi | Bluesky

[eldridgecandell]

🤔 + Flower

Whenever Eld is Stormwind he will make a point to visit the city cemetery with a bouquet of peace bloom. A simple flower really but he can remember spending springs in the country with his family and his mother always smiling with bunches his siblings had picked.

A mass memorial is set within the cemetery for the lost victims of the sacking of Stormwind during the First War. Religion never means much to him, but he says a quiet word for all of them lost in the harbor.

@phyghyver

[aerinis]

this is getting notes now so I'll say that my headcanon is that Swiftthistle has either very soft or no spines at all, so it grows alongside thorned plants to make it harder for large herbivores (kodo, zhevra, etc) to eat it. It's probably also a pain in the ass for herbalists to gather, which is why it has a relatively low drop rate. I think Briarthorn is seen as a noxious weed by many civilizations with how dangerous, unpalatable (probably), and annoying to deal with it is (see: goatheads), but I think it provides valuable refuge for all those little critters we don't see in game: small rodents, birds, and reptiles could all use it as shelter from larger predators. I do wonder if Briarthorn is a natural plant, or if it also sprouted from Agamaggan’s blood like the great thorns you see throughout the Barrens. Briarthorn as we all know is covered in spikes, but idk what's going on with Mageroyal. The name seems to take inspiration from pennyroyal (Mentha pulegium probably, as that's what I'd imagine a bunch of frat bro game devs from 2003 California would be most familiar with), but the model has showy singular flowers that almost remind me of certain Anemone species. It grows as a dense bush, and with the item icon being that of a red rose, I like to imagine it has rose-like thorns too. I don't think it's as effective a host as Briarthorn is, which is why Swiftthistle's drop rate from Mageroyal nodes is almost half that of Briarthorn's.

Little WoW Classic sketch. Endlessly fascinated by the ecological implications of Swifthistle only being gathered from Briarthorn and Mageroyal nodes

[auggusst-art]

Peacebloom...

not surprised Soranar is my first art subject of the year

[lilyofporcelain]

DWC - 20 Nov - Day 4 - Surrender / Tranquil

“You simply hold it flat... and whichever direction the arrow points, is the direction of north. You need only consider a simple acronym for remembering the cardinal directions. Never. Eat. Soggy. Waffles.”

Afternoon sunlight stretched through the canopy of tall, looming deciduous gold, red, and orange trees above her. Around her, the scent of peacebloom, a soft field of white petals. Beneath her, a pool of dark hair like twilight in soft, light waves. In her left hand, a compass. She’d used it when she was down south, remembering what Andaeros had told her when she admitted she had no idea how to use one. And she remembered as she traversed clearings and rocky cliff sides that she still wasn’t wholly certain she knew how they worked.

Was there a compass for life? If so, then she certainly could have used it. Maybe she wouldn’t have taken so many awkward turns. Thinking about it like that, however, made her feel as if she was trying to escape responsibility. And to be fair… she wasn’t lost. Questioning herself without doubt, but not lost.

“I mean, is it because nobody has ever believed in you before. … Is it because you don't believe in yourself like we believe in you.”

Laeynna looked thoughtful as she turned Junarra’s words over in her head. The goblin had no way of knowing it at the time, but the words were more accurate and striking than Laeynna wanted them to be. It was one more thing for her to confront. One more thing for her to contemplate. Combining it with everything else she was trying to hold in her hands, it felt like it was the last thing she could endure before breaking. And she certainly… had broken. In one way or another, at least.

But Andaeros had weathered it. She wasn’t accustomed to that. Perhaps because she hadn’t allowed anyone to ever do so before. She kept replaying their conversation in her head.

“Let me help you, in some small way. If not for your sake, then for mine. To feel put to use.”

She’d always kept him at a distance. Proverbial arm lifted to keep a certain space between them. Some things she could handle. Sharing his bed, she realised, had been somewhat easier than the other things. Sharing her heart. Letting him into hers. Exposing herself. Revealing her secrets. Facing his judgement. Those had been so much more difficult. Many of those hurdles she had managed to clear with time, patience, and circumstance. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t supposed to be.

Laeynna had never wanted it to be.

Eyeing the compass she clutched in her hand, she gently shut it, deciding that it was likely not going to help direct her. Lowering her hand, she held his compass atop her heart and stared through the leafy branches above her thoughtfully. It wasn’t just her in a relationship. She couldn’t keep the same approach. It wasn’t fair or right to Andaeros. It wasn’t how she wanted it to be either. Once, he had reminded her that their relationship was based on mutuality. Mutual sentiments. Mutual needs. Where she had argued the concept of relying on him, he’d corrected her.

Would… it have been such a terrible thing to depend on him? To let him help her? Scraping her teeth along her bottom lip, the furrow in her brow was deep. It wasn’t just for her. It was for him, as well. If she wanted to be useful to him, then it made sense that he would feel the same way. If she forever made it seem as though she would face everything herself, then she would only succeed at building a wall between them.

“...I love you, Laeynna…”

Love. There was that, too. It still played repetitiously in her head. The first time he’d said it on a golden, sunny morning, it had nearly petrified her with fear. At least, a part of her. There was the part that had been extremely overcome with emotion, which was, in her opinion, not very like her at all. Days had made it a little easier for her to digest and to accept. Thinking it had been one thing. Saying it had been another entirely. Claiming the words. Committing to them. Letting herself accept them. Acknowledging that he was the one offering them to her.

Laeynna still had complications with it. The kinds that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her perception of self. He knew about some of it. How she viewed herself. And she had admitted to him relatively early on that she was always so much kinder to others than she was to herself. As to whether he knew how deep all of that went, however, she wasn’t certain. It was not a subject she really wanted to dive into, and convinced that he might eventually come to perceive her as an imposition, a burden, she’d struggled to say anything.

If she accepted his invitation, would it be too much? For him? For her? For them? Would she break everything? Was their love so fragile that she thought she could snap it so easily?

Shaking her head, Laeynna huffed out a breath. No. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Not when it took them as long as it did to get to where they were. For her, it wasn’t some trivial concept. Andaeros wasn’t… some passing fancy, and her feelings had never been trivial or meagre sorts when she actually started accepting she had them. If that was the course she had charted for herself, then it was the one she intended to travel. She would have to adjust how she thought about things. All things. Not just her deepened relationship with the disgraced spellbreaker, but also with herself.

Something had to give.

With a soft little sigh, Laeynna lifted the compass again, standard make. Durable. Steel alloy. Glass. As she carefully opened it, she flattened her palm, watching the arrow in red remain in the very same spot that it had been the last time she opened it. No. Maybe she still didn’t know how they worked, after all.

“...So,” she said aloud, mostly to herself, though in part to the compass in her hands. “Mister Ross’ compass, how do I tell him that I accept?”

— @daily-writing-challenge — Mentions: @andaerosdawnflare

[vaelsnipe]

Name one sweet and one sinful thing you have done this past week.

Something sweet... Lucky for me I did do one thing sweet I suppose this week. I usually ask those I care about what they want me to bring back from my hunts. It's an old family tradition my parents used to share with Tycil and I and I guess being back home made me feel nostalgic somewhat so I asked Tyc and Lukel what they'd like. They both said flowers strangely enough. For Tyc I brought back a bundle of Peacebloom, Silverleaf and Earthroot for her to grow. She and I have always known how to live off the land and she wanted to start planting some practical herbs and flowers and these each have many medicinal uses. I shared some of the spoils of my kills with her too of course but it did feel like echos of my past planting those herbs with her. For Lukel I brought back a single Cinderbloom after visiting someone since I was hunting near his land. It's a powerful tonic too but it's also a flower I enjoy maybe because the leaves burn and yet it remains alive. He seemed to enjoy it, though not as much as he enjoyed the bouquet of Spider Lillies I'd given him from Fiorenze to replace the fake ones I drew for him. But that's another story. I'm just glad he approved of my color scheme.

As for sinful... Didn’t even know I was capable of jealousy if honest, I don't remember feeling it since I was young. Thought I’d burned that kind of softness out of myself years ago. But there I was, watching the butcher smirk at someone else who was clearly a predator like it meant nothing, another apex predator he saw as an equal and suddenly I was ready to punch a hole straight through the tree I was standing by. Or him.

He made me work through my confusion and just looked at me like he’d been waiting for it. I don’t know what snapped first, my temper or my restraint, but the next thing I knew a predator I should have been terrified of had me up against the wall like I was the hunted thing, and I loved every damn second of it. Not usually my preference in the bedroom but there I was.

That night was… a storm. Wildest I’ve ever had. I wasn’t in control, not really. And I think that’s what made it unforgettable. Felt like being set on fire and wanted for it. And stars help me I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

[Thanks for the ask!]

@tycildawnwhisper @lukel-sunshadow @fio-renze @sanguinesorceress for the mentions!

[nyxiemania]

POV: You're a paladin in Tirisfal Glades

(Lore and stuff under the cut!)

(She usually wears a mask)

This is Vyse Shadowbloom, my new main for WoW. She was originally a happily married priestess of the Light in Quel'thalas named Velarae Peacebloom, but then the Scourge came and she was raised as a banshee in a shadowy ritual that put the whispers of the Void into her mind. When she finally broke free, she attempted to reconnect with her wife, only to discover that she'd become a paladin crusading against the undead to avenge Velarae. Their reunion did not go well and she took up the name Vyse Shadowbloom out of spite for a world that saw her as only a monster, now. Since then, Vyse has possessed a wretched elf's cadaver to escape the misery of her banshee form, fought the living and the Light across Azeroth, and had frequent encounters with her ex-wife. One such encounter in Pandaria led to Vyse being taken by the sha, and when she awoke on the Peak of Serenity, the kindness of the pandaren drew her to the ways of the monk. Through much training with them, she came to find some measure of balance in her undead state, and came into a number of skills very useful in defense of the dead. Since then there have been ups and downs, with her spending years just wandering following Sylvanas leaving the forsaken, but she's finally settled into a more sunny disposition to conceal the darkness that pulls at her. With the rise of Xal'atath the shadowed whispers within her mind have turned into screams, and she now sets her sights upon Khaz Algar to fight them. Also she's on WrA with the name Vyse! If you see her around say hi!

[jerek]

A below-the-knee amputation will kill the patient! She needs peacebloom gummy and Gravastar Hellscream skype DMs to live!

[fio-renze]

August 15 - Day 5 Mistake / Wild

Fiorenze landed hard enough on her back that it knocked the wind out of her and popped a couple vertebrae. She heard the rush of magic from Yserina’s shifting more than she saw it with her own eyes — it was easier to stare at the spiraling branches of Amirdrassil above and let the world stop spinning a bit first.

“Your form is off today. What could you have done better there?” The kaldorei’s tone was a little harsh, and in an instant the much taller woman was looming over her, blotting out the moonlight. 

Fiorenze wheezed out a pained, “Bear.”   

A clawed finger crooked slowly upwards, growing roots and leaves rapidly enough to push the sin’dorei trainee back to her feet before they wilted away and turned to mulch equally as fast. As effective as it was, it always made Fiorenze’s skin crawl a little to feel the plants grow and creak beneath her. Yserina’s ancient features gleamed in the White Lady’s light as she gave a short, affirming chuckle, “Yes, you could have become a bear. Or summoned a typhoon to knock me back. Called down a sunbeam, even, to sear me out of my casting—” 

“Yes, I know, I need to think faster on my feet,” it was hard not to be sharp with how her head throbbed, causing her long ears to slant back. 

Her teacher hummed a slightly displeased note, “No need to be short with me, girl. That’s enough for today. Come, make me some tea, we’ll talk.” 

There was an undeniable comfort in the hollowed out tree that Yserina had made her home. A small fire bloomed in the hearth, heating up the well worn teapot that had become a fast friend. Yserina had pulled out an ornate, slender pipe with some immediacy and packed a mix of peacebloom and dreamfoil down into the bowl, “Have you made progress on your staff, yet?” 

Fiorenze slumped down into a chair that had become overgrown with moss since the last time she’d visited, “Yes, some. There’s a tree I grew up with that I think will grant me permission, it’s on the edge of the necrotic scar that cuts through Quel’thalas. Some of it has corrupted, but the heartwood still seems hale.” 

“A guardian tree!” Yserina’s eyes lit up with approval as she waved a hand over her pipe to help the embers inside catch a little faster, “Wonderful choice. You will be stronger for it. That’s not enough to distract you so terribly, though, hm?” 

She dropped her head to rest against the top of the chair’s back, staring up to count the rings that wound from the center of the ceiling out toward the tree’s outer walls, “No, it’s not.” Fiorenze laced her fingers together to prevent herself from fidgeting too much; Yserina wasn’t one who liked to guess and it was best to simply be out with it. She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment before finishing her thought, “My late husband’s sister, the one who requested the estate back from me and the titles that went with it — Lady Tel’vaiel, now. My old name — wants me to run it for her so she can … effectively be Lady in name only. It’s too much, apparently. The tenants miss my governance and the Town Council is wildly in favor. She’s too flighty to work with, apparently. None of the other nobles really want to deal with her because acknowledging her right means they’d have to acknowledge their own bastards…” 

“Ah, she looked the gift nightsaber in the mouth, did she?” Yserina’s quiet, amused laugh rumbled like slow thunder, “How tempting to be offered something you’ve excelled at your entire life. Born and raised for.” 

“I don’t want it,” her own voice carried a vehemence that surprised her, “that’s what’s bothering me. I should, shouldn’t I? It was my home for nearly 70 years. This last year without it has been so… free. The time has been mine, and mine alone. Giving that up is impossible.”

Yserina clucked her tongue, “You tasted what it’s like outside of captivity. No more gilded cages for you, my dear. What will you do about it, then?” 

The answer had always been there, the same one she had been taught to direct toward the service of her long family line. Now it was hers to do with as she saw fit.  “Take what I want.”

@daily-writing-challenge

[aconknight]

Durotar's quiet was like no other, Orizhki thought. Neither night nor morning, but the starry, early moment when the sky opened wide and the wind swept the heat from the ground. When you could dig your toes into the dirt and hear the land north of Sen'jin awaken, begin to sing: the snuffling of boars, the breeze through the silverleaf, and, far away, the slow wash of ocean water across the beach.

When she had been small, her sister had taken her up onto these hills and turned her chin up to the sky. Long years and distance lay between them now, but out here now Orizhki thought she could all but feel her sister's calloused fingers on her cheek, smell her furs and leathers and peacebloom tea.

It was sobering, really. As a child, her sister had stood so tall in Orizhki's eyes that she had served as her north star. Nowadays Orizhki had to wonder what it was that made grown-ups shine like giants in children's eyes, if there was perhaps some magic that the rest had forgot to teach her. She felt lost and unequal to each task that passed between her hands, and she lay awake at night wondering if she was still a child herself underneath it all, understanding nothing.

"Mom?"

Orizhki stirred from her thoughts and looked down. Garrlok had come over to her knee, his one eye turned up to her.

He, too, slept little. A year ago he had come to Orizhki as a foundling from Brackenwall, and none from the Stonemaul clan knew who had left him in the marsh. Matron Battlewail had sent a missive to her about the boy, knowing then — as did most of the tribe, the busybodies — that Orizhki was childless.

"He cannot sleep at night and sneaks out to read, much like someone I used to know," she had written, underlining someone in a long, dark slant that ticked up towards the end. "It has been some time since you took a wife. Krog and Draz'Zilb remember your brave deeds and have asked for you by name. Come and meet the boy."

They had sent the Brackenwall flightmaster, Shardi, up with the child by wind rider, and she had lingered in Orgrimmar to speak with Orizhki and the matron. It was Shardi who had sewn Garrlok his little book, a colorful replica of a mage's tome with a quilted cover and a handful of embroidered linen pages. Garrlok had been using it as a pillow when Orizhki had first arrived at the orphanage.

"I would take him in myself, if I had the means," Shardi had said regretfully over a steaming cup of tea; she and Orizhki had walked to Miwana's Longhouse that day to talk out of earshot of the little ones. "He likes magic, Orizhki. He keeps insisting that poor Tosamina read him the same story about the ogre magi and the magic wolf night after night."

"I know that one," Orizhki had told her. "My sister told me it many a time herself."

Shardi had given her a knowing look. "Maybe it's faaaaate."

"You just want a lok'amon to sing."

"Faaaaaate, Orizhki!"

"But maybe it's not fate," Orizhki had said. "Surely Ekinka and I are too young to be mothers — too young, too stupid. Are there no ready women in the Marsh?"

"You know the plight of the Stonemaul," Shardi had said, and her earlier playfulness had faded with a shake of her head. "And with all those spiders near, well, you've seen them."

"Mm."

"Zanara swears she's seen them make a meal out of a grown orc. Garrlok would be just a snack."

Orizhki had still not forgotten those marsh spiders. She had faced demons, the dead, and dragons all in battle, yet it was those stupid darkmist spiders that woke her in the night. She wondered from time to time if Garrlok had seen them, too; if they crept into his dreams, too. It had been a year since she and Ekinka had taken the boy in, and he still struggled to sleep.

It was why she had thought to take him up on the hills just outside Razor Hill at this hour to see the stars. The two had flown out on her magic carpet, Garrlok still with his plush book, oft-mended and faded by use, but Orizhki had to hold him by the hand until they had touched down safely to the ground. Once he had clung to her leg everywhere they had gone, his face buried in the fur of her boots. Now he had already scampered up the rocks.

"I can get all the way up this rock!" he called back to her now, waving. "And this one, Hand-Mom! And this one!"

"Be careful, kiddo," Orizhki said. She sent her staff up ahead and closed the distance between Garrlok and her with a few moments of careful climbing.

"And this one!"

He was bouncing in place when she gained the topmost rock and drew level with him, more slowly now. For all the knowledge and wisdom of age, her knees had nothing on his.

"Everyone's asleep!" he told her excitedly, pointing at the roofs visible below them. "They're all beddy-bye. Like Song-Mom."

They had first taught Garrlok to tell them apart when he needed to by their clans; Ekinka with the Warsong and Orizhki herself with the Shattered Hand.

"They are indeed all in bed, Song-Mom included." Orizhki said. She knelt to rub a smudge from his cheek with her thumb. "She's been very sleepy lately. You've been very good to not wake her up to play with you while she's resting."

"She's sad sometimes," Garrlok said. He looked down at his feet, raised a chubby little hand to touch Orizhki's own. "It makes me sad too."

"I know, peanut. Sometimes grown-ups are sad," Orizhki said quietly. She moved her hand from his cheek to his chin, and gently turned his face back up again. "But it's okay to be sad. Look, all of the stars are out tonight."

"Wow ..."

She let him slip out of her hands and look up, up, up to the violet stretch of stars.-

"You know," she said, settling a bit more on the hill, "I once fell down one of these hills when I was small myself. Tore up my leggings and both my knees. Gave my sister a right scare."

"Your sister Takta?"

"Mhm."

He was still looking around. "Was she mad?"

"No. No, she was proud. Takta said that I could only fall down that far because I made it up the rock further than I had ever done before."

"Like me!"

"Yes. Like you." Orizhki smiled, though it still brought her a measure of pain. "Okay, well, maybe she was a bit mad about the leggings. But you can't let leggings stand between you and adventure, Garrlok."

"Was Song-Mom mad?"

"No, I didn't know your other mom then."

She watched him walk a few steps with his head bent back, gazing at the peaks and clouds about them.

"We're up so high, Mom," he said in wonder.

"You bet we are," she said. "This is the best place in the world."

He beamed at her, all sorrows quite forgotten. "We can see everything from up here!"

"Oh, kiddo," she said. "Yeah. You bet we can."

[churchobones]

DWC August 2024: Melee

It was well past noon when Hesterlynn finally stirred.

Her head throbbed with each sluggish beat of her heart.  She clutched the icy weight in her chest.

Where am I?

A bed, but not her own.  The room was spartan, almost clinical, devoid of any decoration save an ornate vanity by the window, with curtains drawn shut against the red dusted sunlight of the Eastern Plaguelands.  A silver tray held a cold tea service and a vase bursting with colorful wildflowers: violet dreamfoil, white peacebloom, crimson roses–

Zelion’s instructions had been simple: “You are to offer your assistance to Lord Bloodrose in whatever manner he sees fit.”

Hester willed the Light to the awful ache in her skull, and caught sight of her chipped manicure. Beneath her nails was dirt and shredded skin.

She lifted the dull linen sheets. The fabric of her dress was rife with wood splintered runs and ruined by dirt.  A gorey spill of dried blood ran the length of her ruched bodice.

It was not her own.

She should have never gone to that party.

Lord Bloodrose had dressed outlandishly in ruffles, cogwheels and his workshop goggles.  He requested she wear “something poofy”.  She obliged in the form of a tea-length, robin’s egg frock.  The billowing skirt was made of layer upon layer of airy chiffon.  A demure neckline shrouded her secrets but exposed her pronounced collar bones and milk white shoulders.

The confessor stumbled from the bed, tripping over her ivory shoes.  The right one was missing its low heel; the left had a rusty smudge over the toes.

She lurched to the vanity, gripping the edge of the woodwork as the world swam.   

Her reflection was haggard but whole.  Bruises circled both biceps and wrists like bracelets.  Impossibly long blonde hair, free from its styled ties, fell in haggish curls peppered with wilted white flowers and matted with blood.  Dark circles framed the candlelight glow of her eyes, dimmed and glassy.

She looked monstrous.

The cleric swallowed hard and tore off the damaged dress.

The diamond cut crystal embedded in her chest still slept in its nest of black veins.

Hester was quick to shroud the Mournstone in a cozy sweater; one long and shapeless on her willowy body that fell just above the knees.  As she slid into a borrowed pair of house slippers, she inspected the punctures and tears in her ill-fated dress until her hand fell on a disc of cool metal.

"... As a bit of a thank-you for attending this lousy party with me."

A brooch forged in bronze and plated by gold.  The detailed cast depicted a bouquet of flowers, unpainted, but remarkably detailed-- Plaguebloom, Arthas' Tears and dreamfoil, all with a backdrop of Sungrass stalks. On close inspection, each squared blossom spun as a cogwheel, parting the bouquet like a curtain to reveal a greater detail beneath.

"It's just what I thought of when I thought of you… I hope you like it."

To think that Hesterlynn Mournvalor was naught but a bouquet of pretty flowers was sure to be a mistake, or so Lord Bloodrose must have thought, for behind the bouquet was an intricate knife with a pearl handle and a blade of sharpened steel.

She pinned it to her sweater before bustling out of the bedroom and down the hall on legs still wobbly as a newborn fawn’s.

A saw hummed behind the double doors of his workshop.  Hester sucked a sharp and desperate breath before wrapping her scraped knuckles on the woodwork.

Crash! Metal rang in the air. Lord Bloodrose swore loudly, then swung wide the door.

What a mess! Him, and the workshop too!

Tool chests lay opened, gaping like baby birds. Wires hung from the ceiling, thick black and coiled like snakes hanging from a tree. A mechanosuit stood vigil in the rear, headless and tethered like an ancient effigy reclaimed by vines.

And then Lord Corwin Bloodrose--no, Cory. An ugly bruise painted the bridge of his nose shades of red and violet. A bandage bound the worst of it, acting as a stint and giving padding to the scratched glasses resting gingerly atop.

"Hester!" he greeted, boyishly bright. "Come see this!"

To be continued.

@daily-writing-challenge

[yserina-starweaver]

February 20, 2024 Daily Writing Challenge Bargain/Myth

CW: Implied domestic violence, implied murder

A knock rapped at the gnarled front door to the tree that Yserina had shaped into her home. That, in itself, was unusual enough to pique her interest — she’d purposefully chosen a spot more than an hour’s hike on foot from Bel’ameth to settle. It was important that anyone who wanted to visit make the commitment to do so. 

She shot a suspicious glance at Fiore; the Sin’dorei girl had taken a jaunt back to civilization for a day before returning. The way she’d curled up to sleep on a pad of furs and moss in the corner highlighted her thin, threadbare frame. Surely no one was looking for her.

The knock came again, and Yserina sighed before pushing herself to stand, her old bones creaking the same way the great young tree’s branches did in a gust of west wind off the sea. The door opened for her, moving aside before she even had to touch it, and she took a moment to regard the interloper on the porch. 

A Gilnean; the blonde woman had to be, those touched by Goldrinn’s rage had a particular pallor cast on them in the moons’ glow. She didn’t even bother to try Darnassian and started immediately with harsh Common, “Are you the Starweaver?” 

Yserina smiled, her sharp Kaldorei fangs bright in the dim evening light, “I am. Are you here to bargain?” 

It was hard to ignore how much the Starweaver towered over the more diminutive humanoid as she ushered the wolven woman into the arboreal abode before she could decline. Her accented stammer to answer was silenced as soon as she spotted the Sin’dorei sleeping in the crook of the tree, “I shouldn’t—” 

“Be here? No, you shouldn’t be. But you are; Please! Sit, I will make some tea. Worry not about anything more, you’re safe here,” that was far from the truth, but fear stank and ruined a good deal. 

“My name is—” 

Yserina sliced a hand through the air to cut her off as she stooped to gather up the elegant clay teapot from it’s hook over the fire and crooned a soothing, “Hush.” The flash of a glowing, emerald green eye from among the moss endeared a smirk before she turned and poured a cup of peacebloom tea that was almost immediately pressed into the hands of her visitor, “No names. What troubled you to come all this way?” 

“A friend of mine recommended you, she said you could help me,” the blonde woman turned the cup in her hands, her eyes a bit wide and wild as she glanced around the cozy interior. 

There was a fading bruise under her left eye, and another around her wrist. Yserina’s slender, mothsilk white eyebrow lifted as her Common words landed with some ease, “My myth must persist then. What kind of help are you hoping for, my dear?” 

The blonde hesitated, and swallowed thickly — an action quickly chased by the tea in her hands. As the silence began to grow deafening she answered, “My husband. He’s… His rage, I need something to settle it.” 

Yserina hummed with a theatricality that seemed to give the sway of her layers of silken robes extra buoyancy as she spun to gather up mis-matched jars from the higher shelves that had grown out of the shaped wooden interior that they all sat in, “And what do you have to trade for this cure?” 

The sound of the teacup connecting with the table top and a leather satchel opening, “I wasn’t sure what to bring.. There’s um… I have an heirloom necklace of woven pearls, some bobbins of ice spider silk, or five yards or so of woven gossamer?” 

There certainly were some prizes in there, and she smiled warmly as she returned to the blonde woman with her mortar and pestle, “All of it will do.” She took some pleasure in the flinch as her customer piled the items on the table across from her as she ground up a mix of dried herbs and flowers into a fine powder; the ice spider silk alone was worth a small fortune. 

The worgen woman’s nose wrinkled up as the widowbloom in the mix started to stink, “What am I to do with this, then?” 

Yserina counted out a few bubble poppy pods and crushed them into the powder, not bothering to look up as she worked, “Wait two days for the smell to disperse, then mix the powder into his coffee grounds or tea leaves. Once a day until he quiets. You’ll know when it has worked.” She retrieved a small measuring spoon from the inside of her sleeve and scooped enough into a small sachet to last a fortnight before offering it over. 

The blonde hesitated again before taking the sachet and tucking it into her pocket, “Thank you. Should I—” 

“Go,” Yserina waved a hand and the door slammed open. 

That was enough to frighten her guest back out into the night. 

Fiore pushed up slightly, propped up on one of her slender arms, “That was widowbloom, wasn’t it? That’ll kill him.” 

The Starweaver gathered up her prizes from the table, admiring the pearls and spider silk, “I said that, didn’t I? You know herbs, then, and their uses. How clever.” 

Perhaps, in time, her little flower would become a Starweaver, too.

@daily-writing-challenge @fio-renze

[star-stable-tournaments]

Have you ever thought to yourself: Yee howdy, I wish I could know what everyone thinks of my favorite character, and I also wish we could all definitively rank them in popularity based on the whims of the public? Then do I have the thing for you!

Right out the gate, it's time to vote for favorite characters. The votes for favorite NPC (human) and favorite NPC (other) will be running alongside each other, with the vote for NPC (other) starting a little later to make them both finish at the same time and end in an epic dual victory.

I have chosen to split them up because there's a lot of NPC's and we can expedite the process somewhat by having separate tournaments running alongside each other.

Humanoid creatures such as Pandorians residing in the circus will be counted as humans because that's how they choose to present and I will respect that.

Certain conditions apply regarding characters added to SSO just to host races, NPC's that are named but do not take part in quests, and characters from earlier games. these characters will not partake because the list is so. long. already.

Every poll will be accompanied by a picture and a brief description to refresh your memory, so don't worry if you can't remember them just by name! If you have any concerns or can't see your favorite NPC anywhere, send a message or an ask.

The first NPC (human) tournamnet will take place over 3 sessions of 40 posts per week, because it's 120 posts and I don't want to overwhelm you with that many posts. Once we've narrowed it down to 60 favorites it will be split into 2 sessions, and once we've only got 30 contestants left, I'll post them all in one go until a winner is declared. That's also when the NPC (other) polls will be posted.

Who will go up against who is randomized and can be found under the cut.

The First tournament:

Kirsty Griswald VS Evergray

Violet Dappelbrook VS Mrs. Pike

Derek VS Professor Chiron

Mr. Pike VS Hawaii Jones

Rami VS Felicity

Ydris VS Astrid Ingvarsdottir

Sunshine Joytree VS Mr. Anwir

Jessica Lunar VS Syntax Silverstream

Elsa Einstein VS Harold

Larry VS Landon

Captain Brus VS Pi the witch

Sigry Varanger VS Julie

Aideen VS Jill Goldspur

Tor Sunfield VS Pamela Moonriver

HelmsmanVS The main character

Idun Goldspur VS Mandy

Mr. T. Cray VS Lizzy Jarlasson

Marisol VS Ewa

Sigrid VS Leonardo

Donald the builder VS Captain Waterloo

Eddie VS Bernardine Winterwell XVII

Jade VS Doreen

Courtney Summers VS Bob

Janitor VS Mayor Klaus

Terrance Rockwell VS Gary Goldtooth

Nanook VS Ivan Drake

Saga Sunfield VS Aaron Silverglade

Yousef Sahli VS The Baroness

Gavin VS Wynna Sunbeam

Galloper Thompson VS Stephanie

Isebell Figg VS Dylan

Fina Way VS Mario

Hanna Jarlasson VS Filip Sunfield

Carl VS Ms. Drake

Tim Hooper VS Isabel Stonefield

Justin Moorland VS Mrs. Peterson

Charlotte VS Tiera Vaughan

Scott Buttergood VS Li Ming Yue

Anne von Blyssen VS Darko (oh my god)

Ashley VS Lance

The second tournament:

Joe Jarlasson VS Bob Jarlasson

Linn VS Xin

Alex Cloudmill VS Maya Dew (I promise this is randomly generated, this is homophobia)

Mrs. Hill VS Josie

Jon Jarl VS Jonas

Lydia Rockwell VS Martina Sunfield

Nova VS Ferdinand

John VS Eva von Blyssen

Nic Stoneground VS Hugh

Big Bonny VS Magnus Steinar

Loretta VS Anastasia Silverglade

Edith Octavia Hartwood VS Spymaster

Sedna VS Fleur

Ricky Winterwell VS Will

Barbara VS Helga

Edward Rockwell VS Frank Einstein

Rob VS Mrs. Packard

Carl Peterson VS Kora Pelletier

Rhiannon VS Agnetha

Gaia VS Buck

Huck VS Silencia Tranquila

Jakob Goldspur VS Isolde Goldspur

Igor VS Steve

Tan VS Linda Chanda

Mrs. Dew VS Reyansh

Jack Goldspur VS Ed Field

Karl Franz of Silver Fork VS Mrs. Holdsworth

Mr. Sands VS Farah

Professor Hayden VS Daxton the tailor

Jasper Holbrook VS Erik Hightower

Tamika VS Barney Summers

Dr. Eiren Doyle VS Granny Rose

Catherine Moorland VS Ana

Poppy VS Mr. K. Trout

Tobbe Larsson VS Thomas Moorland

Imane Highcantle VS Andy

Charles VS Mel

Jupiter Peacebloom VS Mr. Hill

Stacy VS Sive

Rowan Allaway VS Mr. Dew

The third tournament:

Claire VS Guillermo Gadea

Marley Summers VS Johanna

Reed Kessler VS Jenna

Robert Buttergood VS Josh

Jamie Olivetree VS Gunther

Madison Hightower VS Mr. Cod

Tristan Goldspur VS Alexander Goldspur

Godfrey VS Carney Summers

Mr. Kembell VS Thalia

Carmela VS Mica Stoneground

Harley VS Harriet

Jessica VS Amelia

Erissa VS Freja Sunfield

Alonso Rivera Sandoval VS Emma

Kit Shorthouse VS Raptor

Luke Excavator VS Herman

Council Man VS Mrs. Cloudmill

Mr. Andersson VS Lily Bones

Keema Steelgait VS Luciana

Walter Winterwell VS James Cloudmill

Holly Hightower VS Elizabeth Sunbeam

Stein VS Enitan Taiwo Ladipo

Sindra VS Felix

Nathalie Moonriver VS Björn

Councilman Skoll VS Rania Varanger

Lisa Peterson VS Loke Sunfield

Professor Jura VS Dorith Jarlasson

Hannibal Goldspur VS Hermit

Junior Buttergood VS Conrad Maarsden

Gretchen VS Li Jian

Rin VS Sonja

Angus Goldspur VS Daisy

Petunia VS Ginny

Kai VS Judy

Mary VS Zed

Katja VS Stanislav

Mrs. X VS Ms. Morse

Sabine VS Sahar

Carin VS Avalon

Kent Jarlasson VS Beatriz

When there are only 30 rounds left, I will start posting NPC (other) tournamnets as well. They consist of these competitors:

Starshine VS Nightdust

Meteor VS Pearl Hart

Knut VS Esben

Popcorn VS Summerflower

Calanthe VS Nutkins

Sahara VS Mayor Peanut

Beeper VS Hieronymo

Sirio VS Lynx

Galloper Thompson's Horse VS Mudskipper

Sprout VS Pistachio

Lignos VS Firewind

Cayenne VS Mortifa

Crowy McCaw VS Ms. Morse's Horse

Diggory VS Shay

Ganymede VS Athena

Balder VS Pico

Nihili VS Lemmy

Beatrix VS Archie

Acerbus VS Ancient Tree

Rocco VS Lucien

Juniper VS Dellingr

Techno VS Birdie

Swedenborg VS Atlas

Crabapple VS Sapling

Ash VS Cedar

Khaan VS Kasper

Bartok VS Hrafnfaxa vom Schwanenteich

Blondie VS Rosemary

Lady VS Garnok

Balder's Mother vS Pari

Shakira VS Elli

Butterfly VS Fripp

Mardy VS Bear

Alder VS Pegaso

Valiant VS Mousebiscuit

Goons VS Brunte

[duraxxor]

“I heard a little rumor of a farm under the city. But it’s said to harvest a ‘particular’ crop.”

A light scoff escaped between his ashen lips. He dwindled in the darkness on this one, propping his head up as he leaned to the side. A small rumor but a rumor, nonetheless. " How particular are we talking? It doesn't surprise me that the underbelly of the golden city has some unsightly things. And I highly doubt you are referring to peacebloom. I don't think you understand what goes on in the Augur's Row within Silvermoon. You don't have to go far to dabble in such things. But, if you would provide more details on this particular you speak of, then we may get some place. Hmmmmm? "

[lilyofporcelain]

Sweet Sunday!

Laeynna seems to have struggled to make connections or look for romance in the past (this is just my impression, I could be very wrong!). What drew her to Andaeros and how would she go about telling their love-story so far?

Here we go again. (Where I'm at risk of talking far too much about a character.)

So... when I made Laeynna way back in 2007, I knew immediately I wanted to...

A) Play a villain / antagonist B) Someone who would be very challenging to have a relationship with C) Probably not have a happy ending

I spoke previously of her trial and the execution that even I, as a player, was expecting to happen and I had, at that time, at that moment, been accepting of the notion that she would die in that event and it would be the end of her.

That obviously didn't happen; she's still here. So then I thought for years and years and years that if she was going to still be alive, there was no way I felt like she deserved to have a romantic relationship or even really close kinship with other people. And. She didn't. So her isolation and her not being particularly close with people was a player choice and intentional for her storyline, her characterisation, the message I was trying to convey with her and her experiences as a character.

With all of that background out of the way...

Laeynna has never looked for romance. Or friendship. She's always very much kept to herself, pragmatic / professional connections, and little else. Whilst she wasn't happy to be doing that, she'd accepted it as either something she deserved for her crimes, or that she had been isolated for so long that it was just better for her and everyone else if it stayed that way. (Familiarity breeds complacency, even when it's a negative familiarity.) It's why her relationship with Andaeros and her friendships at Cakes have been so crucial and pivotal to who she is as an individual now and who she has been growing into during this new chapter that she's going through. (Zaihne also falls into this connection category, though she would dislike very much to consider him anything more than a thorn in her side.)

The rest of this I'll answer in character for her.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Laeynna huffed out a laugh and shook her head. "Andaeros and I... It was not planned. Not in any way, shape, or form. I can admit that the first time I saw him, I could not stop looking at him. I have never been that way around someone before. I do not know if it was his voice or perhaps the runic tattoos he has all over him." She offered up her shoulders in a shrug.

"Mind, I always observe everyone wherever I am. I have spent most of my life surviving by listening to information, by learning about how people move and converse, how methods of conversation change depending on the company involved. Master Dawnflare, as I called him back then, unwilling to use his name, was no exception. His was a new face. I simply wanted to know who he was. Lord Larethmyr hated him almost immediately. That first night, he scolded and berated and glowered the entire way back to his estate."

After a moment, she looked amused. "Perhaps even he saw something that I did not. When I consider how things are now, Lord Larethmyr may have been onto something." And he might have had good reason for being so displeased. Or would have, if Laeynna had willingly given her heart to him. Or any other part of herself, for that matter.

"Andaeros and I used to write one another. These witty to-the-point sorts of letters, often filled with groan-worthy puns and other silly things. I would send him flowers. He sent me a peacebloom once, told me how important it was to him. And he sent me a geometric art piece he did of a tree. And he sent me a stone of shadow amethyst. All of these things I have kept. I have a trinket box that contains all of his letters and his gifts."

A shy smile pulled across her face as she buried her face in her hands, trying to hide just how red she was turning. Then she found it in her to reclaim her voice. "I... do not know for certain when it happened. I would not be able to pick a date. I just know... things were different when Velios brought me back from the City of Threads. If it had not been for him, I would not have survived. Many people like me, who went through the same thing, did not. I was fortunate. And I remembered being in the dark, that little bit of dim lighting, thinking about the things I had wished I'd said to Andaeros before I left. How many things I still wanted to say."

She loosed a gentle sigh, fiddling with some of the dark hair that fell over her shoulders. "Maybe that was when I knew. Being apart from him and he was the first person I thought of. How desperately I wanted to see him then. After I came back to Quel'thalas, I was afraid he would be disappointed in me, so even after I recovered, I refused to see him. But I had his compass that he gave me before I left and I had to return it. I thought the best thing to do was to give it to him and quietly leave."

Shaking her head, Laeynna laughed again, soft and a bit abashed. "Except he answered the door and there he was. The person I wanted to see more than anyone else in the world. He had me then. He had my heart then. And... I... I think I must have had his." Unable to keep herself from fidgeting, she wove her hands together.

"...It took us a while to say things the way we wanted to. We both have our reasons for this. So we used other ways. I did not realise it then, but it was in how we looked at one another. In fact, it seemed like almost everyone around us knew before I was willing to acknowledge it. We must have looked smitten with one another. I believe we still do. Except the difference is that I can say the words now. In the morning. In the afternoon. At night. There is never a moment that I do not think it. That I do not feel it. Andaeros is so very deep inside of me. I should think even my blood touched by him."

(Thank you, @kharrisdawndancer! Sorry for another long one!)

[grimlins-chaos]

Peacebloom

For some context, Alaantheria is Broll's youngest cousin however they developed a big brother/little sister bond given that in his attempts to reach his full druidic potential (i.e. societal pressure to be the best of the best) often took Broll up to Mt Hyjal where Alaan was born and spent most of her life at.

Inspired, Alaantheria would eventually become a druid herself when the path of a priestess didn't really work out for her, after Broll's disappearance during the third war, Alaan would aid in the search to find him but unfortunately to no avail. It would however land her collaberating with and soon after would join The Adventurer's Guild (if you played ffxiv it's essentially the same as it's own adventurer's guild but with some changes. And for the ingame version Alaan just ends up traveling to the eastern kingdoms where she'd meet her guild)

However whether in my own canon or ingame, Alaantheria bearmantle is your trusty healer, ready to give a hand and join her friends no matter what amount of trouble it gets her into xD