#razail dusksinger

[razxion]

Razail: A Little Faith

[Ley-Walker Prestige Class Story for Razail Dusksinger]

I can do this.

Emerald eyes gazed out towards the Sunwell from a small island northeast of Silvermoon.  He could have gone somewhere else with someone to assist that could have watched over him, but right now Razail felt this was the safest place he could be away from home.  No one would be put in danger if he messed up out here.

I just have to remember what Afina said.

Razail started to focus on the magical auras around him to see what he knew was there, what he felt was there.  He never knew what he was using before to go from place to place while he was growing up on his own.  There wasn’t another elf around for him to learn from, or to have asked questions of.  He had been able to see where he was going, who was there, where the walls would be or any other obstacle that could have been in his path.  Now the magic flowing through the ground and lingering in the air was all that could be used to see.  And he looked at the vast network that laid out before him.

It’s just another kind of river.  Dip my magic into the ley lines to connect.

He closed his eyes so he could concentrate better on what he was doing, on what he was seeing as part of his own magic flowed through the web of ley lines until he would find a place he could not have walked to any other way.

Look, assure of the path… Like shooting an arrow.  Lock on and...There!

Within seconds he was standing on a snowy mountain peak.  Silvermoon and the Sunwell no longer able to be seen but there was a place he recognized when he looked upon the landscape below.

Wow, the tournament? I really moved far this time. Oh, cold. Icecrown’s still cold.

Hidden lines barely glowed on Razail’s skin as the young druid changed into a form better suited for this weather.  A soft poof was muffled out into silence by the snow which fell all around him.  White flakes dusted the blue bear fur more and more as he sat in the snow for some time, amazed at what he had done.  A few snowflakes that landed on his big, blue nose were admired before he had shaken off all he could to resume his practice.

Okay. So I can do that to get myself very far away from danger, or to travel where there aren’t any portals to the Dream.  Should help me not be in the infirmary as much.  I don’t want to die again.

Large paws and claws dug into the snow before Razail laid down.  Once more the cool white snow blanketed him.  His body had started to hunger after such a great distance was covered by magic that he was not used to using.  It hurt differently from the hunger he had grown up being used to, as before he only felt it from a lack of food.

I don't want to see the disappointed looks from any Dawnmender again.  The druids believed in me when I showed them how I learned to heal after I had died. They believed I'd use it for good… Even if it's usually something warlocks or necromancers use...

A few moments pass before arcane magics were leached out of the ley-line, as well as the life out of the plants nearby for that hunger to be sated.

I'll use everything I can do for good!

Razail stood back up with more determination than before.

I know there's more I can do.  Windsong said I could eventually make portals like her.  I can help people with portals. I can protect people by having a safe way for them to escape.  What did Afina say about portals again?

His eyes closed as he concentrated to remember when Afina had instructed him and taught him more about the ley-lines and portals.  It had been a few months, but it hadn’t taken long for him to remember.

It was something about how they’re connected by one ley-line.  Through time and space.  Hmm, I’ll start small.

Emerald eyes gazed out once more to his surroundings.  It was a mountain peak that didn’t have much area, but also was without anyone that could become hurt if things went wrong.  All four paws dug into the snow while Razail dipped his own magic down into the ley-lines again.

I. Can.

Arcane lifted as small motes out of the ground, and what had been close in the air coalesced and sparkled.

Do. This.

All was drawn to him, statically clung into his fluffed out blue fur.

Come on…

Four paws shifted in the snow and Razail braced himself as he pushed all the magics out in a straight line before him.  A blue blast of arcane cracked outwards, sending him back a foot away even as his claws had scrapped through the snow and ground to stop himself.

What was that?!

The snow that had been kicked up was brushed away by big paws before those emerald eyes examined what he had done.  A line of melted snow marked his attempt, and it went passed the edge of the mountain peak.  He stood there and looked out into the snow speckled air, once more amazed at what he had done.

That wasn’t what I wanted but I could really hurt an enemy far from me like that.

Razail turned back to the spot he had arrived at and sat back down to think.

I should practice more before I use this around others. I don't want someone to get hurt on accident.

He hungered again, and this time it was the pain he was used to.  A cold breath was drawn in before he sighed.

I’ll ask Windsong about making portals and try them again later.  Time to go home before I get stuck out here without anyone knowing where I’m at.

Emerald eyes glanced down at the tournament grounds while Razail focused again, and in the time it had taken him to blink slow, the scenery had changed.  He sat there, staring out at the streets of Silvermoon from the apartment balcony he called home only to be called inside for dinner.

@thesunguardmg

[raz-xion]

Another 1AM doodled!  This time of my rogue turning druid, Razail Dusksinger!  Pencil and copic lines plus a fat black marker!

I’m kind of liking doing these.

[sonofkhaz]

Sunspear Challenge: Come and Face Me - Razail Dusksinger

The sun was at its zenith as Muroco Rockhoof neatly arranged his practice weapons within the training grounds of the Dawnspire. He would have preferred to use his actual armaments, but the Sentinel made it clear that he did not want anyone to be maimed, crushed, mauled, dismembered, severed or even killed during dueling sessions. His inspection was interrupted by the sounds of boots pressing against grass. Turning, the tauren saw two figures walking towards him; one was a young blood elf, with long blonde hair tied into a ponytail and a mask concealing his facial features. The other was a troll, a perpetual smirk hiding behind long tusks with intricate carvings etched onto their surface.

“So,” Muroco said, straightening himself, “I see you two got my letter.”

The troll nodded in assent. “Ya, anna’ we come togetha foa da fun,” he said as he pushed Razail forward. “Ya be goin’ first.” 

Razail stumbled forward, looking up at the tauren as he straightened himself. “It’s...it’s all for fun, right?” He smiled behind his mask as he drew his daggers from his belt. “Guess I’m ready when you are.”

Muroco nodded, turning to retrieve one of his weapons. “It can be fun, but I’m hoping you will at least take notes from these duels. I am willing to teach what I know if you’re willing to learn.” The warrior picked up a practice battle-axe and tested its weight in his hands before pulling the visor of his helmet down. “We’ll go best two out of three. Begin.”

Razail nodded and crouched slightly before rushing at Muroco, phasing out of sight by pulling shadows around him. Muroco moved to the center of the ring, his blue eyes scanning the perimeter. The elf reappeared on Muroco’s left flank, lunging at the tauren. Muroco raised his battle-axe to defend himself, parrying several of the strikes only to be hit by the last two. Striking out with his battle-axe, Muroco forced Razail to the edge of the ring, clipping the elf’s shoulder with a counter attack.

“Not bad,” said Muroco. “Remember, when you’re facing an opponent with a two-handed weapon, they have the advantage of weapon reach. However, that advantage can easily turn against them if you get close enough.”

Razail nodded, his emerald eyes remaining locked on Muroco’s weapon. “Quickly in, quickly out. I’ll try to remember.”

The remainder of the duel remained brief. Razail would use his talents to hide and reappear to strike at Muroco’s flank. The tauren, in turn, would make the effort to keep Razail in striking distance of his weapon. Muroco was pleased to see that the elf took his advice to heart; the round concluded when Razail scored a blow against Muroco’s thigh. “Alright, that’s enough.” Muroco rumbled, moving back to swap weapons. “You win this round, well done.”

Razail jumped backwards and hopped a little. “Next one, then?” he said, smiling wide enough that a scar on his left cheek appeared above his mask, “This is kind of fun.”

Muroco nodded, picking up two wooden longswords. The weapons were typically weighted and crafted to be fought with a shield, but Muroco’s size and strength negated those handicaps. “Next one. This time, I will be dual-wielding weapons. I might have speed to my advantage this time, but a big guy like myself can be trounced if we don’t watch our flanks.”

Razail tilted his golden-haired head to the side. “Trounced?” 

Muroco paused, checking his vernacular. Did he really just say that? “It’s a word I picked up from some goblins when I worked as a bouncer in Ratchet.” He shook his head. “Anyway, let’s fight.” 

The two combatants ceased their talk and surged at each other. Muroco swung his left sword at Razail, only to feint at the last minute and lung with his right. The attack clipped Razail as the elf rolled to the side, striking at Muroco’s right flank. The tauren moved to guard himself, blocking the first two attacks but getting struck in the leg by the third. Muroco brought both weapons down upon Razail, only for the latter for disappear into his artificial shadows. Muroco held his weapons aloft, the sounds of his beating heart hammering in his ears. He counted to himself, waiting for the rogue to strike.

As Razail reappeared from the shadows, Muroco spun on his hooves, lashing both weapons out in a full circular swing. Razail was struck square in the chest, leaping backwards to regain his balance, but Muroco was already upon him. The tauren lunged his left sword forward, striking Razail in the leg and causing the elf to trip on fall on his backside. 

“I win the second round.” Muroco announced, hearing the troll chuckle to himself on the sidelines. “A good effort, but the principle of our previous fight still applies. Warriors like myself will often carry long, heavier weapons into battle, even when dueling. Use that knowledge to your advantage and try to force your opponent to overextend.”

Razail scampered from the ground and dusted himself off, his ears twitching as he listened to Muroco’s advice. “Okay,” he said, nodding. “Force to overextend or get in really close.” He positioned himself for the next round. “I think I can do this!”

Muroco traded out one of his longswords in exchange for a wooden pavise shield. Pavises were often used to protect crossbowmen and archers, but Muroco’s size allowed him to use it like a normal shield. “I admire your enthusiasm. For this last fight, I’ll be using a shield. Remember, a shield is not exclusive to defense; it can be used as a deadly weapon in the right hands.” 

“Oh yeah, I know,” Razail said, nodding. “Got whacked by one the last time I tried to duel. Got a new...scar!” He rushed at Muroco on the last word, opting not to vanish before striking. Muroco held his shield aloft, attempting to block the flurry of attacks, but one clipped him on his blind side. Muroco brought his sword down in an overhead strike, grazing Razail’s calf as the smaller combatant attempted to move away.

The duo moved back and forth across the ring. Razail bobbed and weaved through Muroco’s attacks like quicksilver, the latter having difficulty landing a telling blow. Muroco was impressed by Razail’s prowess; most combatants broke themselves upon the shields of their opponents, but the rogue was cognizant of this fact.

Near the round’s end, Razail lunged at Muroco’s legs in an attempt to feint and strike at his chest. Muroco heaved his shield upwards, sweeping it across the air in a horizontal sweep. It was a trick he learned from fighting against Kul Tiras marines years ago. The pavise made it difficult to perform, but the shield struck true and swatted Razail away. Razail landed a few feet away from Muroco, doubling over in laughter.

“Alright, we can stop now.” Muroco nodded in approval. “You fight very well. I am impressed. I learned that last move from the pink-skins -- I mean, some Kul Tiras marines a few years back.”

Razail couldn’t stop laughing for a moment. “Well, it worked against me!” He mused, offering a thumbs-up to the tauren with a big smile under his mask.

“It was a close fight.” Muroco concluded. “Often times, a fighter with a shield will stand in one place, expecting their opponent to crash into their defense. You demonstrated knowledge of this, so the best method is to out-maneuver them.”

Razail nodded. “Right. Okay! I just need to get quicker then...I think.”

Muroco smirked behind his visor. “What was your name again, if you’re done giggling?”

Razail tried to calm himself. “Razail. Razail Dusksinger!” He put his daggers away in their sheathes and wiped a tear away from his eye. “Duskward in the Pathfinders.”

“Alright, Razail, I will make sure your superiors know that you fought well today.”

All traces of laughter drained from Razail’s face at the mention of “superiors”.

-

@curiouslich @razxion

[moonunveiled]

of will

The whirring growls and expressive yips that began as soon as he entered his tent brought a smile. The white kit raised up on her back legs and hooked her paws on the edge of the crate that served as her bed. She’d picked up on the routine of Lyrenn’s departures and returns and seemed to celebrate every time her elf showed back up. Crumbling to his bedroll, he scooted until he could lift her from the wooden box filled with blankets and makeshift toys. “Hi to you too sweetpea.” The kit wiggled as best she could, still not quite coordinated enough to preform the acrobatics he was sure she’d get into as she aged. He curled her onto her back and pressed his face into her soft belly. Tiny paws pushed against him, and he could feel her stretching to try and grab a tasty looking elf ear with tiny teeth.  “Hungry?”  Setting her down he reached into his pack and withdrew a tin box, inside the many portions of dried meat from his own rations, set aside for her. He’d been hard pressed to find any milk supplement when she’d been found, and he’d been worried she wouldnt take to the powdered stuff reconstituted in water. Between them there was diet not easily accommodated by war.  “We might be puny but we’ll tough it out hm?” She growled seemingly on cue. Her presence eased the sadness of his tent mate’s death and added levity to otherwise bleak surroundings. But a glance at the empty space his fellow soldier had once filled turned his mind to thoughts of preparation. With Quel’danas on the horizon, perhaps it was time. 

Twisting where he sat, he picked up the journal and pen that had been gifted to him before all this began. Carefully he tore a page from he back and moved it to the front of the book, the first thing someone would see if it were opened. A glance at the fox kit and he began to write.

I, Lyrenn Moonveil, of sound mind, write this as my last request upon the event of my death. I do not name an executor but humbly ask whoever finds this to fulfill these few requests.  As I have no one to receive my belongings they may be distributed as needed, or wanted, if any should want any of it. Aside from this I ask:

My bracers be returned to Tyleril Silversword, as they were a gift. If he is not able to receive them I ask they go to his son, Samiel.  My journal be given to Rythriel Kel’thear.  My fox, Scritches. This is the most important, if nothing else is done please see her somewhere safe. Among my friends, we all march with the army and I do not know who may survive.  I will not make a last request that any care for her forever, as even a fox’s life is a long time for a request. But maybe they can see for her best interests.  Tyleril, as he found her first and has many adopted children.

Dalheim Windchaser, as a dear friend and keeper of promises.

Razail Dusksinger or Ashzouren Summerfall, both lovers of animals with the kindest hearts.

or Caelinda Dewfall, who I know knows foxes and has a soft spot for those in need I have no wishes for my remains.   Shorel’aran

@tyleril-silversword  @ash-summer @razxion @dalheim @caelindadewfall

[r-dusksinger]

Razail’s Colors

Rules: Pick four colors you associate with your muse. Then use the gif search-function and search for the color. Post one gif for each color. Tag other roleplayers to do this. (This was an older thing I decided to redo for here.)

[iiloridansunshard]

Mission Report: Curse of Withering

While the original copy of his report is sent out to the Archon, a solid half-dozen more magically copied...copies find their way out to other, relevant parties via Hawks.

Title/Mission Title: Curse of Withering Date: 4/26/18 Author: Dawnward Iiloridan Sunshard Involved Enemy Parties: Cult of the Bleeding Eye Involved Friendly Parties:The Sunguard; The Dying Suns; Mistybrook Village civilians and Magister Swiftbreeze Content body of the report:

Archon,

Upon our arrival ot Mistybrook, Magister Swiftbreeze informed us of the true dire nature of the illness, as well as the fact that we were apparently not the first to arrive. The plague that had taken the town was most virulent in nature, leaving hawkstriders literally crumbling where they stood, with hatchlings and foals and even sin’dorei children dying in the womb. The towns situation was beyond dire, and I find that this cannot be overstated.

Lightward Thinariel Farmight, along with Duskward Razail Dusksinger and Emberward Sanarissa Firewing lead the attempts at examining the blood of the affected hawkstriders, while a second group ventured into the woods for the blood of wildlife for comparison. This seemed to go well, as the analysis was able to give us a direction to go on for a possible source of the plague.

The previous arrival, who was mistaken for a member of the Guard by the townsfolk, was a cooperative but markedly suspicious woman named Sythise Coldspell. She rendered us enough aid to stay our hand, but her very speech and mannerisms raised hackles all around - for good reason, as we quickly discovered, when she brought us to her mentor, a ‘Blood Seeker’ Vannon. The suspicious individuals turned out to be openly confessed former members of the Bleeding Eye.  As you might imagine, despite their offered aid, this revelation did not go over well with the majority of our party, myself included.

They expressed interests in striking a deal, as Coldspell and Vannon implied they were somehow bound and wished to be free of their former master, but their trustworthiness was obviously difficult to decisively uncover. Dawnward Dawnsworn attempted to make a deal with the pair, to force them to atone for their past sins, but Dawnward Islesun and myself felt that we lacked the authority to authorize any such deal in the Sunguard’s name, and the very idea of doing so with members of such a damned order stirred our ranks visibly - and thus we reached a tense impasse, until it all went to hell.

From what I understand, the Illidari Kebha Bloodsorrow attempted to either examine or secure the tome the cultists were utilizing, but violently fell under its sway instead, launching an assault on the cultists and bystanding guard members alike.

As chaos broke out, Emberward Sanarissa Firewing launched an attack upon Vannon, as did Kyranyx Ryther against Coldspell, both against direct orders. Bloodsorrow, Firewing, and Ryther were all subdued, but only after a great deal of struggle.

I myself was preoccupied with quelling my own impulse to strike down the members of the Bleeding Eye, so I commend Dawnwards Dawnsworn and Islesun for their far more vocal attempts at maintaining order when tensions finally snapped and chaos broke out. Unfortunately, their attempts were for not.

While neither cultist was killed in the initial, defiant attack, Dawnsworn accidentally finished off Coldspell with an attempted healing spell, and Vannon later expired from either his wounds or the magic of the High Necromancer- who sprung a trap that we all stumbled into. The High Necromancer Akhlain’s spirit/shadow/memory somehow lived on in tangible form, much to our collective horror, and was seeping into the very roots of Mistybrook. The Cultist’s plans were apparently to absorb this fragment of their ‘former’ master, somehow gaining freedom for themselves in the process, as well as purging the town from his influence. Without those two willing hosts, however, we had no way to remove the shade of the necromancer. The foul magics there were beyond our ken to grasp or dispell. Dawnward Dawnsworn attempted to offer up herself as host - but thankfully, a Sunguard Revenant by the name of Gronnash stepped forward to take up the task. I am not at all familiar with the ways of Revenants. but from what I understand, wrangling spirits is their very purpose, and in this case his attempt at containing the shade was successful.

Special details/concerns:

All in all, it was not our finest hour - but the objective at least was secured and all of our party returned intact. Mistybrook was freed from the grasp of High Necromancer Akhlain, but the Revenant Orc Gronnash now hosts the necromancer’s spirit-remains. He should be of course be closely observed, and is wisely already aware of the fact that he may need to be struck down should the spirit wrest control of his form. While the situation was a highly emotional confrontation with no clear ‘correct’ answer, and I myself was hard pressed to stay my hand from such foul beings, the previously mentioned members of our ranks went against direct orders, escalating the situation beyond what could have been resolved with further intelligence gained. As such, I am forwarding copies of my report to the relevant officers, and leave any further orders on the matter in your hands. Should you have any further questions on the matter, I am at your disposal. Dawnward Sunshard

@thesunguardmg | @felthier | @azriah | @cynfuldax | @forever-afk | @jessipalooza | @sakialyn | @curiouslich | @stormandozone | for mentions: @thenaaru | @pyrosophist | @theislesunfamily | @dorksworn | @commander-ryther | @razxion | @voidcallxr | @rambleverse

[monster-pirate]

This letter shows up tied with a red ribbon and in the mailbox of Razail Dusksinger with no post mark on the outside. 

To Elleynah Stormsummer,

I write to you because I wish to have a conversation about joining the guard. I have many questions and from the words of a mister Razail Dusksinger, you would be the perfect person to answer them. I would write a few of those questions down, but I fear they would take up the entire page and then some. I hope that you will be able to meet with me soon sometime. I’m sorry for the way that this letter reached you, but please take no offense. 

I can be reached in the flats nearest the Farstrider’s Square in the Everblaze rooms.

I will be very relieved to hear from you, 

Breenaii Everblaze

@razxion @stormandozone

[razxion]

Ra’zha: Family Protects

Navigating the world without my eyes has been difficult, but I am thankful for the sight I do have as it has helped me greatly to adjust.  Thankful too for my friends’ help and my family continuing to stay with me, both alive and in literal spirit.

The words, written as neatly as they could be, transcribed into a journal for the troll shaman Ra'zha by the little elf he helped save, Razail.  They have been spending time together whenever possible after the shaman's capture and torture by the Alliance during the battle in Tirisfal Glades.  Learning, growing, and sharing are all easier now that Razail has his voice while Zha lost his eyes- makes it rather hard to communicate with sign language!

They playfully fight over the last small rib of meat on the plate they were sharing within the Dawnmender’s setup infirmary in little Tortolla, with the troll the victor.  Razail decides to speak in Thalassian while the other eats to help him with learning the language and all.

“So I heard the Falcon company is going out to deal with things in Uldir.  I should be going with-”

“No.”  Zha interrupts Razail in Zandali, doing the same for the other to brush up on his language.   “You're off duty. If anything I'll go in your place. Get myself back on the field.”

“But-”

“No buts!  As a mender, and your big brother, I say no.”  Ra’zha sets the striped bone back on the plate and the cleans his hands with a little water from the surrounding air before pointing to the journal- or at least where he believes it to be.  “You take this back to the Dawnspire and put it in my desk.  When I get back I'll tell you all about it so you can write it in the journal for me, okay little brother?”

Razail sighs and nods even as he knows the other does not see.  “Alright.”  He picks the journal up and the young druid gives the shaman a hug as he changes to speak in the other's native tongue. “Please be careful.”

The troll chuckles, smiles, and hugs back.  “I will do what I can, promise.  Now go home before your Pop realizes you're here and not there in Silvermoon.” A playful rustle of the other's hair and a push away cause them both to laugh before Razail runs off to do what he is told.

~~~

‘Breathe.  You’re safe now.’

He can hear her.  He can see her.  The form of his mother breaks through the pure darkness along with the softness of her voice.  Ra’zha does as she says by breathing in and out for a long while until eventually he calms down.  The sounds are different now and he takes them in.  No longer within an underground facility built by the Titans, the troll realizes he’s at his desk within the Dawnspire’s infirmary.

When, and how?

The last thing he recalls is fire at his feet from a Titanic Maiden.  Panic setting in and then… he remembers nothing more of the Maiden, nor of the facility.  The carvings on his tusks, and bones on his helm, all glow brightly with the full presence of his family around him.

‘We did the best we could.’

‘I like ta think I handled those bugs real well.’

‘...’

‘C’mon now, Jul!  Dun be like that!’

‘Zenki.  They were bugs.  I had to handle the rest AND get Zha back to safety.’

‘Enough now you two!’

His mother, like always, handles the situation with Ra’Zha’s twin and older brother both disappearing back into the bones upon his hood.  He sits there in confusion on the short conversation and his mother notices.  She sits upon the ground beside his chair, gently resting one hand upon his as she speaks.

‘…  How you feelin, Zha?’

“Fine ‘nough.  I think.  What happened?”

‘I saw you panic and took over your body.  I am sorry I did not ask, but it was for the best.’

The shaman nods slowly, once, twice, three times then takes in a breath to release slow.  It all aches.  Leaning back in his chair and examining his own body as best as he blindly can, the shaman’s brows crease behind his long hood.

He can feel minor burns upon his feet, easy enough to heal himself with some rest, but other parts of his body.. Feel wrong.  Something in his lungs is causing irritation with every breath, and the worst is his blood.  It’s bad enough he can no longer regenerate his own body parts due to a Loa’s curse but something will need to be done with his blood- a transfusion the best possible answer.

Though with a familiar knock on the nearby door, Ra’zha pauses examining himself further as his mother runs over to hug Razail.  The spirit of his druidic mother slowly disappears into her bone upon his hood as well after giving the shaman a hug of his own.  Each of Razail’s soft steps cause a slight panic; what will he say to have written in the journal?  The panic ceases as Razail hugs him.

“Glad you’re back, big brudda.  Let me know when you’re ready to for me to write, okay?  I know you’ve got to rest up.”

That’s all he needs to hear and with a big grin Ra’zha hugs his little elven brother back as hard as he can to cause them both to laugh.

“Though you should probably take a bath.. Me too.  Whatever you have on you is kind of nasty.”  Razail points out as they separate.  Blood, goo, guts, and other lingering materials that even Zha isn’t fully aware of due to the lack of eyes to see it all.  Though now he feels it more.

“Ya right.  Go home. I call ya when I be ready.”  The troll slowly stands up, grinning as he hears Razail run off with a quick, “Okay!”  A bath doesn’t sound too bad, it will give him more time to think on what to do, and whom to ask for help.

@curiouslich   Uldir Reaction Piece! \o/ @thesunguardmg

[razxion]

Art Aesthetic: Razail Dusksinger

Art by me: @raz-xion

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋.

tired eyes. coffee stains on the table. listening to the bustle of the city.unmade beds. loose ponytails. sunlight seeping through the curtains. chapped lips. walking barefoot across the floorboards. dusty dictionaries. black and white reruns. huge sweaters. the ticking of the clock.hearing birds in the morning. fireplaces. falling asleep during class.

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.

freckles. the sun rising. watching the sea. taking shots of the city. historical museums. bright eyes. looking up at the clouds. walls covered in artworks.drawing in the middle of lessons. tracing your fingers on the sand. painting for hours. staying in uncrowded coffee-shops. worn paperbacks. messy braids. going to bed with your socks on.

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐐𝐔𝐄.

dark hair. a little sophisticated. always observing the world around you. intricate designs. high ceilings. extravagant musical pieces. dim lights. colorless photographs. fancy furniture. pale skin. hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room. mischievous looks. bitten nails. candlelight dinners. dark shades of lipstick.

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋.

chandeliers. the clinking of a teacup. laced clothing. modern architecture. light hair. watching the view from the terrace. hidden birthmarks. drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens. old films. ancient marble sculptures. expensive perfume. breakfasts in bed. reading about mythology.

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂.

compassion. short writings on scraps of paper. blushed cheeks. a bouquet of roses. reading collections of poetry late at night. loose hair. carpeted floors.attending operas. faint music playing in the background. staying under the covers until midday. the night sky. streetlights. picking flowers. dancing around in silk dresses. scented candles.

Tagged by: @jon-mccallun

Tagging: Whoever wants to do it!

[razxion]

Razail: A Package Received

It was unexpected.  A package was delivered to Razail while he was at the war camp, even with a ceasefire.  Though when he saw who sent it he dashed to hide in his tent before opening it.  Sent to Razail was a pair of bracers that, based on the style and the -weight- of the enchantments laid within the ancient leather, predated Razail by several centuries if not a thousand years.

Razail-

It's cold here. i hate it. nadim is wrapped up in so many clothes he hisses at me. I hate the cold. Come to my bed to warm me up or the cold will steal my manhood from me. I love you. Come back soon.

Sym & Nadim

[Bracers of the Old Ways] - Mythic Armor

Reach: +5ft range to basic attacks/healing and abilities

Life Leech: Roll 1d5 after basic attacks and abilities to heal for the amount rolled

Spirit Leech: Roll 1d5 after basic attacks on and abilities on magical enemies with existing spell shields to add to your shield up to 30hp

( Thanks @tyleril-silversword for the help naming and getting this in-character to Razail!

Paid for with my own Essences.)

[razxion]

Razail Dusksinger: Literature Aesthetics

STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

ᴄᴏʙʙʟᴇsᴛᴏɴᴇ sᴛʀᴇᴇᴛs / ʟᴀᴍᴘs sʜɪɴɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏɢ / ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ ᴏғ ᴀ ғɪʀᴇᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ / ᴜɴᴏᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ ʙᴏᴛᴛʟᴇs ᴏғ ᴡɪɴᴇ / ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪɴɢs sᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ᴀʀᴇ / ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛʜʀɪʟʟ ᴏғ ғʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ / ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ ᴏғ ʟᴏsɪɴɢ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ / ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴠᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ / ɢᴜɪʟᴛʏ ᴠɪᴄᴇs / ᴛᴏᴘ ʜᴀᴛs ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ sᴛɪᴄᴋs / sᴇʟғ-ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ / ᴏʟᴅ ᴅᴏᴄᴜᴍᴇɴᴛs ᴛᴜᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ɪɴ sᴀғᴇs.

FRANKENSTEIN, OR THE MODERN PROMETHEUS

ʀᴀɪɴ ʜɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴡɪɴᴅᴏᴡᴘᴀɴᴇ / ᴄᴀɴᴅʟᴇs ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴡ / ᴍᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴ ʀᴀɴɢᴇs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ, sɴᴏᴡʏ ᴛᴏᴘs / ғʀᴇɴᴢɪᴇᴅ ᴏʙsᴇssɪᴏɴ / ᴀ ᴄᴇᴍᴇᴛᴇʀʏ ᴀᴛ ᴅᴜsᴋ / sʟᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀʜᴏᴜsᴇs / ᴀʟʟ-ᴄᴏɴsᴜᴍɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪʀsᴛ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴠᴇɴɢᴇ / ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀɴᴇss ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴛʀᴇᴅ / ᴀ sᴇɴsᴇ ᴏғ ᴅᴜᴛʏ ᴡᴇɪɢʜɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀs / ɪɴᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴀʙʟᴇ ɢᴜɪʟᴛ / ᴛʜᴇ ғʀᴏᴢᴇɴ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴄᴛɪᴄ ᴄɪʀᴄʟᴇ / ᴛʜᴇ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴏғ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇᴄᴋ / ʟɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ sᴘᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ sᴋʏ.

THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY

ᴇʀᴏᴛɪᴄ ʟᴏɴɢɪɴɢ / ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ᴏɴ ᴀ ᴘᴀʟᴇᴛᴛᴇ / ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴄᴜʀʟs ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴏsʏ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋs / ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴄʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ / ʙᴇᴇs ʟᴀᴢɪʟʏ ᴅʀɪғᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴀss / ʜᴇᴅᴏɴɪsᴍ / ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋɴᴇss ᴏғ ᴀ sᴏᴜʟ / ᴀ ᴅᴜsᴛʏ ᴀᴛᴛɪᴄ / ʜɪᴅɪɴɢ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs / ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴘᴏᴏʟɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴏᴏʀʙᴏᴀʀᴅs / ɢᴜᴛ-ᴡʀᴇɴᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ / ᴀ ᴅɪᴍʟʏ-ʟɪᴛ sᴛᴀɢᴇ / ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ.

THE PRIVATE MEMOIRS AND CONFESSIONS OF A JUSTIFIED SINNER

ᴄʟɪғғs ʀɪsɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴏᴜᴅs / sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴀᴍʙɪɢᴜᴏᴜsʟʏ sᴜᴘᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʟᴜʀᴋɪɴɢ / ᴇᴅɪɴʙᴜʀɢʜ’s ᴡɪɴᴅɪɴɢ sᴛʀᴇᴇᴛs / ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏᴜs ᴢᴇᴀʟᴏᴛʀʏ / ᴄᴀʀᴇғᴜʟ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ / ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʀɪᴠᴀʟʀʏ / ᴀ ʙɪʙʟᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴀɴ ɪɴᴅɪsᴛɪɴɢᴜɪsʜᴀʙʟᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ / ᴀ ғᴀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ’s ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴄʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ sʜɪғᴛɪɴɢ / sᴄᴏᴛᴛɪsʜ ʟᴀɪʀᴅs / sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴɪᴄ ᴍᴀsǫᴜᴇʀᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀs sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴘᴜʀᴇ.

DRACULA

ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪᴀʀɪᴇs / sᴜɪᴛᴏʀs ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴀ ʟᴀᴅʏ / ᴄᴀsᴛʟᴇs ɴᴇsᴛʟᴇᴅ ᴅᴇ��ᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ғᴏʀᴇsᴛs ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴs / ᴛᴇʀʀᴏʀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴᴋɴᴏᴡɴ / ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴡʟɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴡᴏʟᴠᴇs / ᴀʀɪsᴛᴏᴄʀᴀᴛs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇs / ᴀ ᴄᴏɴsᴜᴍɪɴɢ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ / ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ʀɪsɪɴɢ / ʜᴏʀsᴇs’ ʜᴏᴏᴠᴇs ᴛʜᴜɴᴅᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴀ ᴘᴀᴛʜ / ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ sᴛᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ sɴᴏᴡ / ᴄʀᴜᴄɪғɪxᴇs ᴡᴀʀᴅɪɴɢ ᴏғғ ᴇᴠɪʟ.

WUTHERING HEIGHTS

ғᴏɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏʀs / ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ɪs ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ / ᴀ ᴄʏᴄʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴀʙᴜsᴇ / ᴠɪᴄɪᴏᴜs, sɴᴀʀʟɪɴɢ ᴅᴏɢs / ᴀ ʜᴏᴜsᴇ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴜɪɴ / ᴀ ᴛʜᴏʀɴ ᴀᴍᴏɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏsᴇs / ᴛᴏxɪᴄ ʟᴏᴠᴇ / ɢʜᴏsᴛs / ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴡʟɪɴɢ ᴡɪɴᴅ / ғʟᴏᴡᴇʀs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇɢᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴛ / ᴡᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ᴀᴡᴀʏ / ᴀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪғʏ.

[razxion]

Alexander: Just Another Day

[Warning: not a lighthearted story. Some arguing.]

Just like any other day, Alexander comes home to the apartment he shares with his twin, their lover, and lover's sons.  Purchasing groceries after an every other day run around Silvermoon is a normal thing for him to do. His mind doesn't wander often so long as there are the people he loves to remind him who he is, and where he's at.

Twin girls babble and yawn sweetly in the room at the end of the hallway.  Their giggles interlace with the wonderful singing of his twin. Their father.

Purring emanates from behind another door in the hallway.  It's open enough for the three felines to come and go as they please into his cousin’s room, Razail, that he shares with Samiel.

After the groceries are put away, Alexander starts to make dinner for the three adults.  No Tyleril tonight, or Samiel, as both are off doing things and spending tonight away from the apartment.

The smell of fish and vegetables starts to fill the air and soon begins to draw the attention of the trio of cats.  The young man follows them as usual, though just like every day, Razail waits behind the couch with his emerald eyes peeking over to watch.

“Hungry, Razail?”

A nod with a smile is all the answer Alexander receives and it's enough.  He gathers the plates, silverware, and then serves up three helpings he places on the table.  A fourth plate of just fish is made for the cats and set near their tower so they wouldn't eat off the table.

The giggles are gone, and Rai'thas is no longer singing.  The twin girls are now asleep in the cribs Alexander made for them.  Finally time to call his twin for dinner softly from the doorway of the girls’ room.

“Rai, dinner's done.”

“I'm not hungry.”

The paladin sits on the spare bed within the girls’ room just staring at a key on a string hanging around his neck that Alexander does not recognize where it goes to.

“Did you eat?”

“Told you I'm not hungry, Alex.”

“Alright.  You should go out for a walk and get some fresh air then.  I can watch the girls.”

“Not interested.”

His twin lays on the bed and turns to face away from the doorway.  The dangling key starting to irritate him as Alexander knows it goes to something important enough for his twin to keep close.  Soft footsteps to avoid waking the babies and he puts a hand upon his twin’s arm.

“When did you last go outside, Rai?”

No answer but a shrug to try and remove his hand.  The lack of answers irritating him further pushes Alexander to pick up his twin and remove him from the girls’ room.  He takes a few punches to the chest, enough that in his living body it causes him to pause and lose a breath or two.

“Let me go, Alex!”

Alexander does just that, dropping his twin onto the couch and standing over him.  Razail slinks to hide behind the couch completely now as the twins start to talk louder and argue.

“There, I let you go.  Now answer me: when did you last go out?”

“I don’t remember.”

The paladin holds onto the key with one hand as he stands.  Alexander moves to block his twin from going down the hallway.

“Then do me a favor and take a short walk outside.”

“I said I'm not interested!”

His twin attempts to push past him, but Alexander does not let him.  He holds onto Rai'thas's arms, and they start to wrestle. It has been something they've done since their younger days.

Twisting, grabbing, pulling and pushing. The two men do not speak until one is thrown hard enough onto the couch to cause it to topple backwards and onto Razail as he tries to scurry away.  They both softly curse the same word as their attention shifts to tend to their much younger cousin.

Rai'thas gets off quickly to grab Razail as Alexander puts the couch upright.  Both stay silent as they look him over, full of worry watching tears fall across Razail's scars.  They find a few bruises, and both try to heal him. Light and blood mending fighting against one another, just like the twins themselves a moment ago, and one wrong move leads to Rai'thas burning Alexander's hand on accident.

His twin tries to help, but Alexander pulls away. The burn jump starting his memory and his red eyes drift to that key still dangling from Rai'thas's neck.  He remembers now.

It doesn't take Rai'thas long to tend to Razail, the bruises disappearing from the younger elf and reappearing upon himself in a much more minor form.  The paladin slowly hugs his cousin and whispers, “I'm sorry, Razail.”

“I am as well.” Alexander puts his hands upon each of their shoulders, looking first to his cousin then to his twin. “I'll make both of you whatever you'd like for breakfast to apologise.”

His twin releases their cousin and gently removed his hand before standing up. “Just leave me be, Alex. Please.” A few steps down the hall and he pauses. “If you do I'll go for a walk in the morning.”

“Alright.” Alexander replies, and as his twin continues down the hall he quietly adds, “You should use that key. Leave a letter there if anything.”  Rai'thas only shakes his head before disappearing back into the girls’ bedroom for the night.

He sighs and gives Razail a hug as well, the young man giving him a quick squeeze before pulling back to sign. ‘I’m hungry.’ Alexander finally smiles and nods, helping him up and to the table.

After they finish eating and cleaning up, already goes into the bedroom his twin and Tyleril share.  Opening up the closet, Alexander stares at the large box within.  One hand absentmindedly traces each absent scar on his new body that he recalled from the one within the box, his original body.

When he gets to his arm and shoulder where the rot set in, Alexander quickly shuts the closet. Frost forms around his eyes as he goes to bed.

Moments pass, unable to sleep, and the door opens quietly.  Razail stands in the doorway, the three cats at his feet as he tentatively waits for Alexander to notice him before he signs.  ‘Can you make the stars shine, please?’

He couldn't help but to smile and nod. “Of course.” A learned gesture and the apartment's ceilings alight with a starry night sky- one of many gifts from Tyleril.

His cousin smiles wide while looking at the magical stars and signs some more, rather timidly. ‘Can I sleep with you tonight?’ A rare request that Alexander accepts with a pat to the bed.  “Sure.  Maybe we both can get to sleep better.”

All three cats leap onto the bed as Razail slowly crawls across to curl up next to Alexander.  His cousin picks Tyleril's pillow to sleep on, and he figures he wants comfort from the man that's become a father figure to his cousin.  Alexander puts a hand on Razail's shoulder once he settles, and all the cats curl up between the both of them.

It doesn't take long, watching the magical stars dance across the ceiling, hearing and feeling the small purring bodies of the cats, just having someone there, and both fall asleep. Just like any other day.

[razxion]

Fatal Flaw: Razail Dusksinger

C) Fatal flaw: Your compassion.

Bottom line: you’re TOO NICE, and this will inevitably spell out your doom. You might meet your end by sacrificing yourself to save another, or—even more likely—you’ll happen across some individuals of questionable character who will take advantage of your niceness and lead you to ruin. Either way, it’s not looking good. You need to be meaner. Maybe scream at a small child or leave a bad tip at a restaurant or something, I don’t know. I’m trying to save you, okay?

Quiz Link

Tagged by @worldofdoodlecraft

[razxion]

Monax - Carry On

He's still breathing.  Come on, I'll get you to the menders, kid.  Even if they might not heal me.

Razail's beaten and unmoving body laid in Monax's arms as the demon hunter left.  He could barely hear the others commenting behind him, something about Argus in the sky.  It didn't matter to him at the moment, the well being of that young rogue did.  Monax had learned they were relatives, but had not said anything about it to Razail yet.

Blood creeping down his back, ribs broken, and Monax was having troubles breathing; but he wouldn't stop until he reached the infirmary.  Each step was hurried, and the closer he got to where he needed to be, the more he was gasping for air.  He was used to pain, used to pushing himself to stay alive, but now it was for another.

[razxion]

A Rogue's Journal: Entry 2

Within the dark corner he sat.  Within the room he often sleeps.  Within the apartment he now calls home.  Razail’s objects are scattered on the floor for him to see all at once; there are so many more than before.  Hugging a soft, warm, and plush sun with one arm, he starts to write in his journal.

It’s been over a year since I wrote Anything in here that I didn’t rip the page out after, and a lot of things have happened.  I’m no longer with the one I loved last I wrote, or in the place I called home then.  I’ve gone on any mission I could, and kept falling to the ground.  I found out there were, and still are, things not right with me.  I found the shaman that saved my life and found out most of his family has died.  That shaman brought me to my parent’s old house, so now I where that is and I have tried to fix it as much as I can so far.  I also found a couple people I’m related to after finding a picture of my parents.

I have a new place I can call home with a little brother and his father.  I didn’t think I would have another place to try and live in.  I wanted to help protect Samiel, keep him safe, and then I wound up staying more and more after that.  I’ve seen how him and his Pop, Tyleril, do things together, and the things that I didn’t get a chance to do with my parents that I really wish I could have.  I don’t remember much of them but I miss them a little more since being around Samiel and Tyleril.  I’ve caught myself a couple times calling Tyleril Pop.  I don’t know why but I know he’s been so very nice to me.  I’m so very scared of the day they won’t want me around, I love them both so much.

We went to a tournament and I got to try and joust again.  Tyleril and Samiel cheered me on, along with SO MANY Oathsworn too!  I wasn’t just up against Sunguard people this time, and there were so many different people around!  I won two times, and lost the third one to a fellow Oathsworn, Emberward Highdawn.  She’s strong, and seems to like animals too.  I was happy to lose to someone I might be able to go up against again.  First match I was up against Aeleara, like the final round that first time I tried jousting.  She forgot her shield though, so I had won.  I feel a bad about it and want to go against her again whenever we can joust again.

Samiel and I watched Tyleril duel spar? on top of Finnigan and this nice Tauren lady gave us a blanket to keep warm!  Nuellen Swiftstrike left cupcakes for people at the Sunguard’s both, at least I think she was the one.  I grabbed two after my jousting was done.  They were so good!  I fell asleep under one of the carts, but Tyleril found me and brought me back to the tent.  I was so tired.

There’s twins that live in the apartment with Tyleril, Samiel and me were there too.  The wrestle around a lot at home.  Sometimes they knock the couch over and onto me.  Tyleril’s helped me when I got hurt.

Phoebe has cubs!!!  3 of them and I have the names a little couple months ago.  Jessie, James and Jenny.  Jessie always wants to play and meet people, she’s silly.  James wants to meet people too but won’t run up to them like Jessie does.  He got hurt once and he has scars on his back.  He seems too try and protect or make Jenny feel comfy.  She seems very shy.  Jenny loves to lick my hair like Phoebe does, and be close to someone all the time, usually James starts near her.

James comes home with me a lot, and he likes Aestus.  Aestus lived with us for a little bit then moved into an apartment on the roof!  He left a key for us to go visit whenever and I think I will more with James.  He helped take care of Finnigan too when I was too hurt to.  I like him.

I met someone in the forest, well Phoebe did and I found her with him.  He has a cougar and is a farstrider.  He wrote the books Samiel and I read!  I’m in love with him but I’m scared.  I don’t want to have him go away.  Sym’s funny and sweet and cares.  He came to see me and take care of me when I was hurt.  I saw him at the tournament too!  He sounded really surprised I could joust.  I’m surprised I do okay at it.

It’s scary, how right the Oracle’s cards seem to be, or at least how much they start to make me think.  Most recent one made me realize I really am scared of being alone more than dying.  I was alone for so long and didn’t have anyone but Phoebe and Finnigan around me.  I’m glad I have friends and people around I can try to talk to.  I know I’m still learning how to be a normal? person, like them, but I’m trying.

My hand really hurts so I’m stopping.  I’ll try to write in here again before another year passes.

Razail Dusksinger

His hands hurts so much he can barely move it, and he crawls into the blanket and pillow fort he and Samiel sleep in.  One nights rest then off for deployment.

[razxion]

Sketched out Razail’s Mischief/FelKitten Zee with his little toy mouse.  Was a prize/gift from the Winter’s Veil themed Stargazing event’s Cookie Contest!

Thanks again to @brothersemberfell and @ocarina-of-what for him IC and OoC.  Cutest little shittin kitten ever!  (He loves the little guy too much and Zee loves him SO much.)