#windrunnerrs

[embercrested]

@windrunnerrs I enjoyed the book while reading it, yet the more I stopped to think about it the more I found it to be flawed. I don't agree with everything makani criticized, but for the most part I think it's right. Sira is whatever, Maiev is ooc, the second scene with Tyrande is pretty bad. Jaina's personality reverted, but Idk how fair it is to blame Roux for that when she seems to be doing that for a while.

Anduin wasn’t a problem for me tho bc I feel what’s going on makes sense with what he’s been through, the suggestion of external influence but also just the pressure he’s under with everything (and that things still weigh heavily on him even when he complies, like the Turalyon Alleria stuff). For Turalyon and Alleria, I didn’t feel like it was reverting their characters to BtDP at all tho

at the same time, I took a lot of issue with Nathanos and Sylv because even in BFA material they had been portrayed differently. I liked Talanji’s part a lot, but Zekhan Idc at all. I think my main problem was the plot not progressing and a lot being kinda abandoned halfway through the book.

As for Fairshaw, I could see it coming from that one mission they’re both in, but at the same time, I think the book does a poor job of developing it from there. I didn’t like lorthaly either, and I hate lor’themar’s character as written by roux, but specially in relation to Thaly I hate it.

ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE RANT I JUST LIKE DISCUSSING THIS STUFF AKSJDNFKASNDF

NO WORRIES LMAO your insight is always appreciated and i love your opinions on that. (mostly bc we agree :’) but also bc it’s rooted in facts and you know your stuff!)

yeah like??? i have a similar impression reading the critiques, while first reaction was glowing and positive, in comparison to the other books people are ... a lot more negative? it’s like the second kingsman film for me, when i watched it at the cinema i LOVED it, but as time passed i came to realise that i don’t really like it. it’s a bit like your weird uncle: you love him, but you don’t like him. 

it’s super hard to say but i just don’t care about the undead night elves bc they’re all so... bland. although i really had to laugh at her comparison of sira diving in a 1v4 teamfight bc it felt exactly like that in general. the few passages i’ve read with maiev made me ??????? bc that’s not the maiev we know. 

I really don’t know what her problem with Anduin was, tho. Jaina’s arc has been disappointing since after the battle of dazar’alor with no real development - not saying she has to stay the mad warrior queen, but switching from “BEWARE, BEWARE OF ME” to “you know it’s just sylvanas, the horde isn’t that bad uwu we must let them mourn uwu~” in an instant (nobody @ me, because that’s the hill i’m willing to die on and i’m tired of discussing it) - but that’s the thing, just like you said - you can’t fault roux for that, because they’ve did that before her and already in the game 

zekhan slowly feels like rhonin, at least that’s what quite a few people say. he started as a meme and now he’s this prominent character who’s just too good and perfect and- urgh. never got the obsession with him either.

all in all it’s also super hard to judge, because we don’t know how much blizzard tells her to do; if she just gets an overall plot and she had to fill in the blanks herself, if she gets an extensive briefing about who the characters are, what direction they’re supposed to go and what their personalities are supposed to be. 

[humantea]

Top 6 scenes in literature

6. Kaladin

5. Speaking 

4.The

3.Third

2.Ideal

1.Kaladin Saying the third ideal

[redeeming-sun]

"There's something bothering you." Hard not to notice, easy to read as he was. In truth, Alleria had been avoiding making the question in spite of it; she had a good enough idea of what it ought to be about, and she doubted talking to her was what he wanted. Between N'Zoth and the hunt for Sylvanas, there had been plenty about her that ought to bother him, real actions or crafted visions (plenty she knew not how to deal with at all, but needed to try, for him). "Do you want to talk about it...?"

// @windrunnerrs // mom

There really was something bothering him. If Arator had ever seen the value in deception, he might have learned how to hide his more tumultuous emotions better; but he hadn’t and so he didn’t.

The time he had spent getting to know his mother was wonderful. Just as his father and he had bonded, so had he learned more about Alleria. He was grateful for that and grateful for her. The two most important people in her life and they both trusted her.

And he still trusted her but...what was bothering him was: could Alleria trust herself?

Even a year ago when she had returned, people had been unintentionally undermining their relationship. Paladins were no friend to the void, but they were friends to Arator. They had been happy for him that his parents were back; mostly happy about Turalyon, for the words they reserved for Alleria spoke only of concern. Fear with how she dabbled in the void and could she truly be in control of such a malevolent force?

They were rarely shy about discussing these things in front of Arator and seemed eager to get him to participate in the conversation and to agree with them. He didn’t believe it was done maliciously but just in an attempt to voice concern for the young man. Many of the paladins among the order had watched Arator grow up and felt as though they, too, were his parents.

But nothing bad had happened. Their concerns slowly started to vanish, at least they didn’t talk about them so loudly, and it seemed as though all would be well.

Then came the nightmares. The visions of what Alleria Windrunner was capable of doing to her own son and husband. Paladins did not fear death but her actions had been worse than outright killing Arator...no, she had murdered Turalyon before giving her son to N’zoth as though he was a feast to be savored. She had given up his soul to an Old God.

Even without knowing their opinions on the visions, Arator struggled to accept that what he was seeing was false. Lies. Something that would never come to pass. Everyone else was less quiet now. More insistent that Arator avoids his mother to keep himself, and his soul, safe. The idea that, after missing her for so long, he could just avoid her was laughable...and he only considered it because of the nightmares. Because, even when awake, he could still feel those teeth nipping at his soul. Was knowing her truly worth risking such a horrible fate?

And now...with what Jaina had talked to him about...it was getting more and more difficult to tell if Alleria's actions were her own or being motivated by the voices in her head.

Arator was desperate to talk about this, and to find the best option going forward, but there was no way he could tell his mother. She didn’t need to know what people were saying for, he feared, it would only cause her undue worry.

“It’s nothing I just...�� Don’t want you to feed me to N’zoth. Nope. Can’t say that. “How goes your hunt?” Yes, deflect to a subject that he worried about but he could discuss with her. Perfect! “Do you have any leads on where Sylvanas might be?” Leads that she had discovered through the means of torture...

“When you find out where she is, I would like to come with you. I think...she would be more willing to talk to me.”

[terraforged]

@windrunnerrs​ asked: “Do you truly believe N’Zoth dead?” Honest question, stemmed from doubt one who had seen Old Gods plague world for ages could not avoid. Yet victory was no small feat, regardless of its brevity. He (all of them) more than deserved savoring it while it lasted. “But there will be time for such questions later. Azeroth is safe for the time being, in no small part due to your efforts. There is always something, of course -- but you more than earned some respite, for however long it lasts.”

She asked something he was loath to admit, loath to consider for he thought he already knew the answer to that and it was not one he cared for much as something else clawed at the back of his skull hoping he might listen. Hoping his fall, if they could bring it, would be far, far more terrible, more beautiful, than his father’s before him.

Wrathion was really quite good at not listening though if he were to say so himself.

“He’s gone.” For now. It lingers like bile on his tongue, sickly and unhappy where there should have been an elated satisfaction instead, one not tinged by an unhappy reality. The day had been saved though, time had been bought, and sometimes that was enough. That was all one could do to salvage a dire thing and hope, hope desperately, that the next time something better might be achieved.

For now he was content enough though, shoulders lifting. “A smart dragon would think it was terribly convenient He left a weapon like that dagger there, and a smart dragon would wonder where that dagger is now.” A hum, low and throaty, something more akin to thoughtful growl as talons caught into hair that framed his jaw and scratched. “Those are the things a smart dragon would consider, o’ Life Binder.” And smart enough was she to ask at all, she too perhaps having her suspicions that it had been altogether too easy.

Because it had really, it had been easy enough and that more than anything was a blaring alarm. One he would consider, plan for, act on when needed, but for now Azeroth was turning herself in another direction because mortals were funny creatures who liked to cause nothing but trouble.

Perhaps that was why he liked them so.

“I’m sure tomorrow there will be another catastrophe; there always is. Oh, but until then we should have a party,” hands clapped, exhale of smoke from nostrils all amusement and satisfaction in his own fickle way. “I’m quite certain Anduin would appreciate it, funny creature that he is. I’m sure you can manage to arrange that can you not, Queen of Dragons?” For goodness knows attendance would be questionable were he to do so.

[shadowsblades]

"Did anyone ask you to come along, or is it merely that you want to?" Anyone, Tiffin says, as if there were many who could have made such a request. Question is not refusal; matters to her, though, to know which is it when suspicion is it would be the former. She didn't imagine Valeera would enjoy accompanying her when all she meant to do was see from up close to the needs of the people, heed what they had to say. Not quite a dangerous endeavor. "If it is the later, the company will be welcome."

SOLICITED ASKS ↳ @windrunnerrs

          Valeera has not been in Stormwind overlong. Not long enough to have done much in the way of decorating the bedchamber she has been given, though long enough to have memorised the route from said bedchamber to the kitchens, and to where she might find Varian. Not long enough that her existence in the castle has been accepted as something on which the king’s mind will not change, but long enough to have heard too many bitter conversations on the topic muttered over by nobles and guards alike. Decidedly not long enough to have become accustomed to the stillness of living in a city, of the near certainty of her survival until the next day, of having nowhere to go and little to do to ensure it, of having nothing to fill the hours between eating and sleeping. Long enough to experience, for the first time since her childhood, the privilege ( if the suffering she endures can be termed a privilege ) of boredom, of aggravating inertia and suffocating restlessness.

          Not long enough to have gotten to know the queen Varian had been so eager to return to, either, but long enough to judge Tiffin as potentially less intolerant of her than the rest ------ hopefully more amenable to her presence than Varian, too. He claims himself too busy to even fight with her in the yard for an afternoon, a stinging rejection she struggles not to take personally.

          Strides bespeaking confidence in her welcome on whatever quest Tiffin embarks that Valeera does not quite feel are matched to the queen’s as she departs the claustrophobic walls of the keep, the only explanation for the abruptness of her company the undisguised fascination in the blood elf’s rounded green eyes and perked ears as she takes in the formidable stone and bustling streets of the cityscape opening before them. Previous jaunts through the city had compelled her attention elsewhere ------ on their imminent arrest, on the black dragon they were going to confront, on the possible arrest again when she had risk to return a few weeks back ------ but now she can feast upon the sights, on the sunlight glinting off the water rippling in the canals, on the needle-like points of the cathedral rising up in the distance, on the humans clustering here and there and everywhere, their number infrequently interrupted by a stout dwarf.

          “I want to.” The assertion comes quickly, Valeera eagerly seizing upon the acceptance promised by the queen in exchange for that assurance. It is the truth, anyway ------ no one has asked her to accompany the queen ( though she would have, if asked, if only to have something useful to do ), the choice instead propelled by her festering need to move, to adventure, if only inside Stormwind.

          “I haven’t got to see much of the city yet, your------” She falters, sudden panic tensing limbs and transforming the enraptured wideness of her eyes to bulging trepidation; by the sun, what did everyone call her? “... Majesty?”

[lightsblade]

@windrunnerrs​​​​​ :   ❝  i trust you.  ❞   ( from lor'themar ) (     *    PROMPT :   THINGS  THAT  YOU  WANT  TO  HEAR   /   NOT  ACCEPTING  !

❝    GOOD ,  BECAUSE  I  NEED  YOU  TO  HEAR  ME  WHEN  I  SAY  THAT  WHOEVER  PICKED  THIS  OUT  FOR  YOU  IS  A  FOOL ,    ❞       nimble  fingers  are  already  undoing  the  buttons  of  his  tunic  with  a  practiced  ease ,  auburn  brows  knit  together  in  the  same  kind  of  concentration  a  mother  might  offer  her  child ,       ❝    and  i  won’t  have  you leaving  this  spire  dressed  in  such  a  monstrosity .    ❞       she  practically  rips  it  from his shoulders ,  material  held  between  her  thumb  and  forefinger  and  an  entire  arms  length  from  her  body  as  though  it  reeks .   she  lets  it  fall  to  the  floor  without  a  single  care  for  the  thought  that  might  have  gone  into  it  or  the  potential  sentiment  held  by  the  hideous  thing  and  steers  her  dearest  friend  to  the  closest  mirror .

❝    I  WILL  NEVER  SPEAK  TO  YOU  AGAIN  IF  YOU  TAKE  ANY  MORE  FASHION  ADVICE  FROM  SUCH  A  TASTELESS  IMBECILE .    ❞       by  the  light ,  she  could  very  well  faint !   how  had  he  been  bamboozled  into  such . . .   eugh !   she  visibly  shudders  and  shakes  her  head  to  rid  herself  of  anymore  thoughts  about  that  terrible  tunic  and  inhales  deeply  through  her  nose  to  compose  herself   ---   she  will  fix  this !   a  slight  swirl  of  her  hand ,  aglow  with  arcane  energies ,  brings  two  new  options  into  view ,  one  floating  on  each  side  of  the  regent - lord :  one  red ,  one  black ,  both  trimmed  with  gold .   as  it  should  be !       ❝    pick  one .   i  would  recommend  the  black  but  you  wear  red  quite  well ,  so  it’s  your  choice .    ❞

[shadestriders]

@windrunnerrs // A Black Dragon

Oh, they are pesky little things, the mortals.

Nalice finds she doesn’t mind wearing the form of one of them as much as she initially expected; it seems like a fragile thing, this skin of hers, white and soft and so very different of obsidian scales, but she does not reject it, does not feel as if it is a body she doesn’t belong in. Stands out, even as the representatives of other flights wear mortal guises also; Alexstrasza does not disguise draconic features even as a high elf, and most of others have a variation of elven too, even if in half.

Her guise is purely human — so had been that her mother wore to infiltrate Wrynn’s court, so had been that Deathwing himself used to trick foolish mortals. Fitting, then, that it would be her choice when she weaves her own deceit, like those who came before, if setting her sights higher than deceiving mere mortals, culmination that this is of a long plan to infiltrate the other flight’s midst. Keep your enemies closer, as it were; Nalice sought to keep them close as it could be, abhorrent as it was to stand so close to the Lifebinder and not try to shed her blood.

“You presume I owe you an explanation, mortal.” She has little interest on mortals beyond their usefulness. This one seems more annoying than useful, and thus Nalice is inclined to pretend not to have heard her at all until she is left alone; but there are eyes on her, she knows, and more importantly, there are ears, and if she is to redeem her flight (the mere idea of it makes her want to laugh, absurd; her heart is as black as any of her kin, and that they cannot see it is a wonder).

Well, only in part. For the most of it she knows it is guilt that keeps them at bay, even as Nalice does not quite bother concealing her taste for blood.

“They are not my kin.” Blatant reply that it is may seem odd, but she knows to have played her tale well enough even this will only drive the blade further in their hearts, make the hideous Crimson Queen drown in regret thinking this to be consequence of her own actions. “My kin was slaughtered by them, innocent and guilty alike. Now we are too few to defend our own den from the undead.”

“It is no surprise the reds call upon their allies to look after their interests alone, their good graces extend only to the crimson-scaled. But my dragonshrine is infested with undead vermin also, and we need aid in cleansing it. The Dragon Queen is not noble enough to offer us help, but it seems neither is she vile enough to keep me from finding those nobler than herself who might be willing to aid us.” Nalice crosses her arms and shrugs lightly, unaffected by whichever tempers she may have provoked in speaking ill of belovedAlexstrasza. “Amounts to very little when we would not need help at all if not for them.”

Ears perk slightly at the beginning of a response.

Raern had not fully expected an answer, truthfully. Her anxiety awaiting word from her brother had sent her wandering the temple, whereabouts she took about throwing remarks and seeing where they would stick. Most, if not all, of the dragons looked on her as something between a stumbling child and a troublesome guest. Typically pity colored their replies, if they deigned to reply at all.

It had surprised her, however, when she could not seem to get even the slightest gleam on the Black representative’s opinion. Of course, Raern had heard rumor of the Black Dragonflight’s talents in verbal deception, but it was unnerving, now to be confronted by the fact plainly. That same discomfort likely spurned her into speaking to the dragon in the first place.

It is with a plain look of surprise (plain at least to such ancient beings as those surrounding her) that Raern listens to the full response, watching hawkishly for any sign of the inner machinations behind the words. 

Never before had Raern felt so blind. The contempt toward Alexstrasza is clear enough that she can deduce the Black wanted it heard, but she can’t determine much more in the dragon’s unaffected manner. She blinked, ears twitching.

“... I see,” Raern began, attempting to compose herself enough to have... some kind of standard conversation with a creature that gave her as much information as a brick wall. Again, the jarring sense of the encounter was palpable in her demeanor. “... Well, do you require aid, then?”

[necroarchy]

@windrunnerrs​​ said: how does he feel about jaina currently? did he ever try to interact with her in any way in more recent years? did he ever want to, even if just to, idk, kill her himself? would he kill her himself?

     He works rather hard not to feel about Jaina, honestly.

     The man who murders his father, sets his own kingdom to the torch, razes his way up the Eastern Kingdoms and Northrend, ( with a quick stop in Kalimdor to sow some seeds of chaos-by-proxy, ) scales the Frozen Spire to eventually destroy his evil puppet-master to fully steal the crown and empire and divinity for his very own, topping it all off by cutting the heart from his chest and throwing it into the depths in order to cast off the last of humanity and mortality and morality... is not the sort of man who happily acknowledges that through all those trials and tribulations, the regard he feels for a certain mage never so much as wavered. 

     Even in Wrath of the Lich King, wherein Arthas is at the absolute apogee of his belief that he truly doesn’t need or want anyone other than himself, to the degree that he allows even his most-cherished commanders and zombie friends to perish with no real intention of resurrecting them ( rip Kel’Thuzad ), Arthas only ever interacts with Jaina when she infiltrates Icecrown Citadel. And even then, he only shows up once she’s deep enough inside that he has to take personal action against her --- AND EVEN THEN he intended to leave her to Falric and Marwynn, but she came running after him and at that point he was just... done with ignoring her. She wants to find some remnant of her prince? He’s right here. He’s been right here the whole time. Look and see, beloved.

     And she escapes, and he dies, and when he comes back --- well. There was a kingdom to reclaim and all. 

     Arthas is better at acknowledging when people are important to him now than he was pre-Fall of the Lich King, but that doesn’t mean he’s good at it yet. 

     Arthas doesn’t want to think about Jaina, but that... rarely actually plays a part. He knows what’s going on with her; he can’t not know about the progression that led to her becoming the Lord-Admiral of Kul Tiras, because that’s the sort of development in mortal politics that a Lich King can’t just shove off to the side and ignore for the sake of his own petty feelings. He’s meandered through Drustvar once or twice out of curiosity of their witches. He knows about Derek’s resurrection. Perhaps most damningly, he has their daughter serving as his reluctant Champion, and as much as he can see himself in Zoen, he can also see her mother as well. Jaina is very rarely from his thoughts, even if only on the shallowest level because to think any deeper would agitate him.

      There isn’t a clean way to explain how he feels about her, because it’s messy enough that he feels anything at all. That he can’t reduce his consideration of her down to hatred, and bitterness, and betrayal, and disappointment. There’s more in the mix, unfortunately. Poor him :/

     Arthas would adore to kill Jaina himself. He wants to kill everyone himself, but that’s hardly practical. ( Or appropriate; what sort of a king would he be to steal all the game from his subjects? ) However, lately, he’s gotten this idea in his head* that he wants acknowledgement. He wants the people he considers to be his to accept that they’re his. That their proper place is at his side. Which, at the moment, means he’s content to let everyone live their pathetic little lives. Eventually, they’ll throw themselves on Frostmourne’s blade of their own volition. He can wait. He has eternity.

      * Because I needed a vaguely canon-sponsored reason for why he doesn’t just murder everyone on sight and also so I could develop actual RELATIONSHIPS between him and other people that are deeper than just “ cartoon villain shows up to laugh at your muse ” like it was in WotLK. 

[bow-women]

Hydra: Does your muse have a reoccurring problem?

Mythical Creatures // Accepting

Vereesa frequently disassociates, especially after Theramore. It was a developing problem before that, but with Rhonin’s help, she usually kept it under control. With his death added to the pile of losses she’s endured, I imagine both Jaina and Arator encountered her zoning out dozens of times. I think it’s even happened once in front of Alleria. 

That said, it happens much more frequently than she lets on, as in multiple times a day. The world just grows hazy, she doesn’t feel like her body or her armor or her home is even hers. Everything feels like a dream she can never quite wake up from. She’s memorized a handful of scripted sentences that she uses to get away from others when she’s in the thick of it, and usually finds a place to hide until it becomes more manageable again.

[acherys]

how do you see the dynamics between zoen and mograine shifting, with her becoming lich queen? do you think it would change a lot from what it currently is? would it be as big a change as it was when she became deathlord and he died and she brought him back, or would it be minor and not very different?

     I don’t think their dynamic would change especially much. It already went through its most major upheavals when she became the Deathlord, and later when she resurrected him ( which itself was less a new change and more of a cementing of change. Zoen still considered Mograine in charge “for real” before resurrecting him. She no longer did, afterwards. ). Zoen becoming the Lich Queen would just be her being in charge, but more now.

     Their relationship would be rattled, though. It’d have to be. Mograine promised that his loyalty would ever be hers; that the Horsemen’s loyalty would ever be hers, and he would lead them wherever she took them. But Zoen has led them absolutely back into the Scourge. More, she’s taken the Throne that literally everyone was worried she had aims for. As far as it looks, his suspicions of her were correct. Zoen is her father’s daughter. She went down that dark path, committed so many horrible acts by order of the Lich King, and claimed the crown at the end of that bloody campaign. And she dragged him and the Ebon Blade down with her.

     But he knows her very well by this point, and he would see her in the aftermath of taking the Throne. He would know Zoen didn’t really want this, and that she’s just as scared haunted by how she’s followed her father’s footsteps. Mograine would have the opportunity to see that she’s still, for better or worse, Zoen Mith. 

     A newly-crowned Zoen would fear nothing more than to be alone. She’s absolutely terrified that her old allies and friends and family will distance themselves or even cast her away as the Enemy now that she’s taken the Throne, because she’s aware enough to know that she needs them to keep from becoming her worst self. Without others to ground her, she’ll rapidly forget why giving in to the temptation of the Throne and gearing the Scourge up for another shot at killing the world is bad. And Mograine, who has known her longer than almost anyone else in the world, would likely know this as well.

     What he does with that knowledge is up to him.

[onlylibertya]

@windrunnerrs​ asked: 'You won’t have the time.' (from morrigan c:)

     The world outside of the circle had been something that had been romanticised by the mages - they held onto their knowledge and imagining what it would be like to lay in fields of grass taller than they were. Anne had always wondered in the blue of the sky would be prettier with the freedom of an open meadow round her and no one rushing her. It was bewildering, the first time she left with Duncan. The memories of her time before it were few and foggy enough that she struggled to remember her mother’s face. Anne had been six years old when she was taken from her home; her mother would miss her terribly, she said. Her father refused to look at her. When Anne left, her mother was quick to follow.

     She misses her terribly, this little haze of a woman. Anne remembers her eyes soft, and while her own didn’t match in colour, her mother’s were a lovely warm brown. It reminds her of honey in a dark room and she wonders idly if she was looking upon her with rose-tinted glasses. A spot of sweet in the monotony of hers days. Her mother died and Anne hadn’t found out for months.

      Anne likes sleeping beneath the stars. It reminds her of the burn of candles in a dark room, twinkling happily above her. What have they seen? What atrocities and kindnesses had they witnessed? 

      The grass rustles behind her and Anne struggles to look at the silhouette of Morrigan in the dark - what her eyes didn’t recognise, her ears were quick to. “I could stay here forever,” she sighs, dreamily. Anne digs her fingers into the grass around her and finds its still damp with the afternoons rainfall. Her clothing would be soiled and ruined, but with more pressing matters at hand there would be no one to nag her about the state of her robes.

      Morrigan’s words make her heart sink. They shouldn’t because they’re true, but there are more pressing matters at hand that will never allow her the time to fully adjust and drink in the simple pleasures of life outside of the circle. “I suppose yer right,” she replies, and it’s hard to chase the disappointment from her tone. “But there’s no harm in takin’ a wee bit of time to relax after a hard day’s travel. Ye should join me, if yer so inclined.”

[ladywindrunner]

try + deathwing :')

try + (character) // accepting ::

D E A T H W I N G

He, who was the greatest of calamities, a triumph in destruction – found himself destroyed before his symphony of ruin was complete. Merciful oblivion took him in the throes of deserved agony, and that devastating torture that wracked his body finally ceased.

He’d been nothing but a plague of misery and ash, a pestilence of consuming fire and malevolence.  In the quiet now, without distractions he could consider his failure properly. His memories, twisted as they were, played out before him and he saw how his pathetic servants had fallen short of their duties.          

How entirely vexing, the short comings of others.

For a briefest flash, free of the intrusive thoughts that he’d been unable to fight off, he thought he may deserve this fate. To be nothing save a foul memory. He can almost recall who’d he been before, almost grasp the concept of honour, duty, and valour. All things once attributed to him at his grandest—

           NO.

           Neltharion was dead. Destroyed beyond recognition, not even a corpse remained for those to mourn the fool who thought himself guardian. Imbecilic idealist who’d believed mortals even worth consideration. He was the champion of a rotting tomb, a hollow memory with a crumbling memorial somewhere on that pathetic world.

           If even that.

           Good. Let the world forget the Earth Warder. Let those who cling to his memory and beliefs suffer. Their weakness should be punished!

           Within this sacred abyss was Deathwing. Greatest of all the dragons, he who could not be conquered without those fools mucking about with precious time. His laugh rung out to the nothingness about his incorporeal form. He laughed at his latent victory.

           Who were they now to stand on mighty kingdoms of righteousness? For they had sinned as he had. They played with machinations said to be forbidden. But they did so with the naivety of children. They clung to their delusions of morality. Perhaps they’d struck him down, but their actions had unleashed unknowable catastrophes.

           Fate would see them punished for their crimes, yet they would not possess the serenity of oblivion. They would fight, tooth and claw, to cling to that pathetic rock of a world. Their wars would simply draw more chaos, peace would never last.

           What he pitied, was he would not be there to watch their misery. The Old Gods, whispering horrible truths, played their hand too early. Their patience was endless but limited. They were festering paradoxes, and in the silence death brought, it was a relief now that Deathwing did not have to endure their plots.

           Such simple schemes they were, too. To rule a world empty of resistance, to corrupt it and twist all those on it to the void.

           He barked out a bellowing laugh, for here he could mock them. Their deaths, without he as their dark vanguard, would be swift and well deserved.

           Old Gods indeed, free of their madness, he could see just how archaic their designs were. They wrought ruin for ruin’s sake.

           But was that not the simplicity sicknesses incurred? A disease has no drive beyond mutation and death.

           If Deathwing felt shame, it was only because he’d permitted them to warp his own desires. They offered him power eons ago, but who truly had worked to obtain it?

           He had. He’d done the work; and suffered for it. He’d walked amongst the mortals and manipulated them, he’d tricked the other Aspects. What had the Old Gods done but offer empty promises from their long lost prisons? He’d wanted freedom from a burden thrust on him undeservedly so, and why? Because beings claiming to be his betters wanted to witness what would occur. They who could not even bother to care for their own world, gave the responsibility to dragons undoubtedly out of sheer convenience.

           The abyss contained within it, no semblance of time. Here, he sensed there was no beginning nor ending. This was existence at its worst. To be something almost tangible, with thoughts and goals, but without a means to properly act. The predicament was inconvenient. Infuriating that this was the end the Old Gods had brought him.

           Where are your whispers now, you filth. I so wish to witness your demise. I know of many who you thought to rule who planned to betray you. Let them taste victory, if there is any semblance of justice within the cosmos, you will be nothing but the fleeting terror in the dreams of infants!

           Resentment was a fine companion. One worthy of his hatred.

           “And my father is dead, because of the Old Gods.”

           Wrathion.

           His son, a runt hardly worth a thought. Deathwing’s contempt for him is only matched by his amusement. The purge of his flight had failed then, though it was a shame that it was one so wretchedly weak that survived. Was he to believe that it was Wrathion who lead the struggle against the Old Gods?

           There is a flicker of pride for the boy, though it is fleeting. How grand would it be if it should be his son to strike down the disease? It would not be so difficult to imagine; the Old Gods were arrogant things. They thought themselves untouchable because they were as real as nightmares.

Fools, as maddening as their designs were, they were fragile.

           Falsehoods. Fakes. Lies. Mirages of the worst sort, but illusions all the same.

           Prove yourself useful, whelp. Deathwing rumbled, the void about him shaking in resonance. Even here, in this nothingness, he possessed power. Surely you tire of being such a disappointment.

           The silence around him is deafening. He waits to see if oblivion bestows him with another glimmer. He knows many of his former masters have perished. He delights in it. Somehow, in this vast emptiness, his knowledge has expanded. This abyss is as much their fate as it was his. Only they, without the fear of mortals to sustain them, are withering. Their greed and lust to be worshipped and dreaded is their downfall.

           He was not so simple, and that was the only gift Neltharion bestowed upon him. His existence before corruption promised that Deathwing would not be so easily vanquished. No, he was to suffer. As if somehow, being free of the crushing weight of Azeroth, and the madness it seeded was a punishment.

           Oh, how he laughed.

           I am destruction. What this oblivion seeks to do, is my very being. I am imprisoned here, but with it comes immortality.

           His voice rings out to the emptiness, his new seat of power. There is a flicker of something forming. A wisp, a mote of existence within nothing. Shadow and flame, an ember of defiant, vicious truth.

           “In N’Zoth’s name, his wings will darken the sky once more!”

           His fury is immediate. A thunderous roar threatens to send the abyss fleeing in terror as it rings out. How dare anyone proclaim it would be some disease that would see Deathwing rise! The insolence! He seethes with loathing, and his being violently lashes out at the nothingness.

           This was the first time oblivion felt as though it were a prison. He could not reach out and snuff out the proclamation. He could imagine the Old Gods laughing, mocking him even as they become grains of sand to be blown away by history.

           His connection to this one is different. She is not his child, but the daughter of Onyxia. Yet her spirit burned truer than his son’s. She did not wish to be weak as the other dragons were. She valued power, control, and knew that to obtain such things one could not be so limited by ethics.

           He fought against the ignorance this place wished to bestow upon him. He would have her name.

           Nalice.

           That inkling of flame grew larger as he stretched forth his mind and found the boundaries of oblivion.

           It was vast, but not limitless.

           Another lie of the gods. Old, new, and those who were timeless. The darkness that awaited the unworthy and wicked was not endless. It had walls, a floor, a ceiling.

           Or… had he given it such things?

           This was his domain after all.

           That spark of smoke and flame descended into the floor.

           Deathwing reached out for the worthier of the two descendants. He touched her mind, graced her with dreams of N’Zoth’s destruction. That infestation’s inevitable demise. He, the Destroyer, severed the old god’s hold on his granddaughter. She dreamt of Azeroth aflame, and the skies blackened by a thousand shadows.

           The Black Dragonflight reborn.

           You, child. He spoke to her, his words near beyond comprehension. He shook her sanity with his rampant might. May yet prove worthy of my gaze.

           Oblivion caught fire, and the ground heaved.

           The floor split open, a vast river of lava given light to an empty realm. Tectonic plates, suddenly thrust into existence, slammed into one another, forging ugly, jaded mountains. Lakes of tar seeped up from hairline cracks, and the abyss now reeked of sulfur and brimstone. Vents of noxious gas sprouted like wildflowers, spewing toxins into the air.

           Hellish light illuminated the corpses of the old gods. Fire consumed them until they were nothing.

           The tallest of mountains erupted. Plumes of ash and choking smoke exploded into the sky as debris rained down onto the valleys of lava. Magma roared outwards next, running down the cliffs in thick, murderous streams.

           This realm is mine. His voice sees the new forged ground quake. Great crevices sundered open, and out from them crawled twisted elementals. Abyssal creatures of fire and earth.

            Out rose a form from the belly of the volcano, a marvel of darkness. A draconic monster wrapped in smoke, lava running off seething scales and oblivion plate. He arose as a black dragon of oblivion, and he permitted his terrible power to breathe out of him. His wings smoldered and spat fire, magma leaked from his maw in a horrific fashion.

           Deathwing, Lord of Oblivion, Emperor of the Abyss.

           Fiery gaze turned upward as he coiled his form around the peak of the sundering mountain.

           Pitiful mortals. He snarls, lips curling back as he peers up at that infinite dark. Watch as your world comes to an end.

An earthquake shakes the continent of Kalimdor. The lava fields of Sulfuron Spire churn. Temperatures rise as an early summer sweeps across the land.

           And rallying call reaches the mind of those he deems worthy.

           All will burn beneath the shadow of my wings.           

[redeeming-sun]

Griffin: Does your muse have any priceless possessions?

MYTHICAL CREATURE ASKS// Accepting

Also tagging @fatesblades

He found the letters, mom.

Among the items taken from Quel’thalas before Arthas’ Visit™ was a stack of letters. Vereesa took them with during the evacuation and kept them safe in her possession until Arator returned from the Outlands. 

He had spent a year searching across a broken world for a hint of his parents, only to come up with maps, a few old campsites, and a stronghold named after his mother in the bluest forest he ever did see.

But when he returned with nothing to show for his efforts, Vereesa bequeathed to him the only thing she had to share. It was in the form of a stack of letters addressed from Turalyon to one Lady Alleria Windrunner. There is just shy of three dozen, and they are all unopened.

He could never figure out why they were unopened. To this day they remain that way. They had been written for his mother, and she never read them. Within their pages are first hand accounts of his parents and who they were but he has not opened them to read them.

This is because the letters were not meant for him. He fears reading them will only raise more questions and he still had no one to answer them. One day he might...bring them to his mom. Deliver the messages again, a thousand years later, and see if she is now more receptive to opening them. Then she could answer any questions he had, the first being...why? Why did you never read them?

But he hasn’t and while it is a conversation he wants to have he is afraid of having it. So they are on his bookshelf, neatly stacked next to the books still waiting to be delivered.

[terraforged]

Wrathion knew before he had even left his shell that he did not want this, did not want to stumble into world full of mumbling, of harsh words as if he did not know, did not understand-- yet he did know, did understand. Knew enough to fear the way they were so certain he would be no better than the others, the way they were ready and perhaps even hoping. Likely were for their hate ran deep, as deep as his own cut through anxiety clawing within his skull. A child not even into the world and already they wished him dead much like his own kin, and wasn’t that an interesting legacy for those who supposedly cherished life most of all?

Still in his egg and already he knew the bitter taste of irony, acrid as it tasted in little maw.

By choice he would have never hatched, would have stayed in the only safety he knew for all that too was terribly unsafe for all that had been done. Torn, destroyed, remade, dragged forcibly and pressed full of knowledge which might have driven another mad and there, quietly, he feared too that he might well be for surely the mad did not think themselves so.

Yet he had no choice, had never had a choice (and if he had, if they had asked him, would he have chosen this? Any of this? To be made at all?) for egg became too tight, too cramped until eventually he was forced, a struggle against thick shell spanning perhaps hours yet in the end he prevailed. Had decided he always would even in awkward flail as he finally, finally toppled free to land upon back, irritated chirrup at cool night air as scent of world assaulted him for first time. As sounds became suddenly clear--

A deep rhythm sounded too, low, sturdy. Whooshing gusts of in and out as something titanic breathed.

Legs flailed, wings fluttered, tiny form managing to roll upon stomach and look, and see she whose name he already knew. She who had ushered her brood away until it was only they. A red leviathan and he, a tiny illbegoten babe still unsteady on feet as he attempted to skitter back and away from her only to accomplish little more than rolling over himself once more as legs proved themselves to be difficult things to negotiate with to his unbridled frustration.

In the end he stopped, exhausted, little chest heaving with scales still slick with remnants of egg as he stared. As he stared with far more intelligence than any whelp fresh from the egg had right to stare.

@windrunnerrs

[lady-proudmoore]

Jaina Proudmoore: “A Series of Unfortunate Events”

Tagging: @ceruleanelf​​​ @ladywindrunner​​​ @summysparklesprocket​​​ @sassyhighking​​​ @theveneratedwolf​​​ @frostmourned​​​ @queen-lanathel​​​ @earelloxtiruvai​​​ @anierous-sunblade​​​ @asharinhun​​​ @twiceandforeverqueen​​​ @thaneirstaer​​​ @garethlyons-ooc​​​ @bow-women​ @tragedycraft​​​ @windrunnerrs​​​ @shadowsblades​​​ @lightsblade​​​ @redeeming-sun​​ @kalistra-heartpride​​​  @hannyandfriends​​​ @ask-the-time-assassin​​ @halforc-mercenary​​​ @zentca​​​ @embercrested​​​ @drunkenworgen​​​ @malien-lunarfell​​​ @captain-davion​​​ @the-wolfs-raven​

[theharellan]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm. tagged by: stolen from @dansiere tagging: @ghiassan, @deathsreflection, @altuspavus, @windrunnerrs (velanna), @hopewrought, @willbeshot, @seahaloed (iron bull), @asterfed​ (noctis), @ anyone who wants to steal it! also multis feel free to choose a different character

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated (i’m open to roleplaying with non-dragon age characters, and have AUs for other fandoms)

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO. solas is both wildly popular and wildly hated. he’s been more consistently popular than the controversial women in the series, like sera or vivienne, who have only recently begun to get to the point where their tags are less vitriolic (although i’m sure it’s still out there), but there’s still a sizable hatedom that can’t have his name breathed in their vicinity w/o them talking abt how much they hate him. even if you’re currently cosplaying him!

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. again, you have ppl who are super into him and ppl who think he’s ugly. my personal opinion is that i think he’s weirdly pretty, and wish ppl would commit more to his unconventional features rather than try to chisel him into sb more traditionally attractive and that ppl who don’t find him attractive would maybe chill w/ calling him ugly. find him unattractive by all means, but lets embrace the fact that inquisition let their love interests have skin flaws etc and accept that some won’t be our cups of tea.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK. its hard to deny at this point tbh.

Are they underrated?  YES / NO / IDK. frustrating as the hate in the tags he has enough fans that i couldnt say he’s underrated w/ a straight face.

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO. he’s the reason the game starts with a bang and not the inevitable dissolution of the conclave b/c the sides are disparate.

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. regardless of solas’ relationship with the inquisitor, there are parallels and contrasts in their stories and he also is the reason they survive inquisition.

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO. fen’harel is well-known and revered, if feared, among the dalish, yet at the same time he’s not remembered for a lot besides locking the gods away-- and the context of that decision has also been lost. as solas he’s relatively unknown until inquisition and especially trespasser.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. again, polarising!! he has loyal agents and people are willing to speak well of him despite everything, including his enemies sometimes (depending mostly on the inquisitor). 

How strictly do you follow canon?  — generally i try to have a canon basis for my interpretation, even if i interpret the text differently than the author.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  solas is an immortal who is simultaneously jaded and very much invested in the small moments of life. far from being weary of the day-to-day lives of ordinary people, it is systems and orders he is most tired of. he walks an interesting line that feels far less misanthropic than other immortal characters i’ve experienced, yet still he’s quite cynical. as a character who has fought against religious based tyranny before, but in a completely different era, he is in a unique position where what he sees around him is both horrifyingly familiar and yet completely new. it allows an exploration of the wrongs of thedas’ society from an outsider’s perspective. his motivations are complex and multifaceted, often condemnable and yet also understandable. his character arc in inquisition (if befriended, or regardless in the case of my solas) takes him from a dispassionate, disconnected antagonist to someone deeply invested in the people of thedas, deeply conflicted and actively hoping he will be proven wrong again. i think his story is a testament to human (or elven, or dwarven, or-) connection and how even when we resist we can’t resist creating bonds with the people in our lives. i personally see this bond going beyond the inquisitor hence why i play low-approval solas as conflicted as high-approval, if not when it comes to the inquisitor.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  solas is selfish and motivated solely by revenge, he’s clinging to a past that clearly no longer exists, if you ignore all the people from it who are still alive. he’s totally unaware of all his flaws and never owns up to any mistakes ever. no, i haven’t listened to a single word solas has said in my life why do you ask. he’s also critical of my faves which means he’s #cancelled, there is clearly no validity to what he’s saying. ksjdf no but in all seriousness i think a lot of reasons ppl don’t find solas interesting are just... weird readings of his character that sometimes have no basis in the text of inquisition, but also there are plenty of perfectly valid reasons to not find him interesting. usually those ppl don’t like... talk abt how much they don’t find him interesting constantly tho. they just chill and aren’t invested in this particular villain. for one thing i think the game missed out on opportunities for exploring how someone who may not have even had a body at the beginning of his existence would feel about gender and sexuality, so making him presumably straight and cis was a boring choice. i also think that the dragon age games being very protagonist-centric hurts solas’ character, there’s no real reason why the inquisitor is the only one who can throw his plans into question but making the player the center of the universe means he’s not allowed to change due to the effects of other companions or NPCs. thank god this is rp and i do what i want.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  i have a history degree so when the inquisition companions were being teased, solas describing bias in primary sources from the memories he’s seen got me interested in him. but my first playthrough i didn’t actually take him with me all too often, i think my main party was dorian-blackwall-varric. i liked him, and i think he or dorian were my first friends in skyhold, but my initial interest was in other characters. between his dialogue that appealed to the historian in me tho and how his spirit opinions sort of turned everything i’d felt about spirits in the last two games on its head, i started vibing with him more the farther i went in. like merrill set me up for the “spirits are people” thing and solas hit it out of the park. then temple of mythal happened, and i did bring solas with me there. i found his dialogue fascinating and also suspicious, i’d just finished masked empire like the day before da:i came out so i definitely thought solas was an ancient elf in the same vein as felassan. it was after temple of mythal that i actually decided to make his blog, although like as one idk linchpin to cement my status as solas trash... i was hit BAD by the banter bug on my first playthrough, probably got like a dozen banters total. but then at some point late in the game i took solas to the forbidden oasis and he wouldn’t stop talking to people, and i really loved his banter with the rest of my party at the time.

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  replaying inquisition, new DA content when the bioware gods deign to grant us a lifeline, but the biggest thing is my rp partners. i wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the people i write with, new and old. my activity of late hasn’t been the best, work and the summer heat has really been sapping me of energy, and does even during years when we aren’t going through a pandemic. but it’s the thought of my rp partners and love of solas that keeps me coming back.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO / I SINCERELY HOPE I DO? i have my doubts sometimes, but i think i do ok.

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO / SORT OF? there is no headcanon too small for me.

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO. but not lately * gestures to the low activity * i’ve been in this cycle where i get anxious abt late replies, so prioritise them, then burn myself out and can’t write the fics i want. i’ve had two i’ve been DYING to write tho i just... need to find the space in my brain to let myself.

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO. i mean it depends on the day. if i work closing shifts at my store it gets very quiet and boring around 8:30 so i spent the next 90 minutes thinking about character stuff.

Are you confident in your portrayal?  YES / NO / SORT OF? 

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO / SOMETIMES. 

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO / SORTA.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  i’m going to say ‘no’ because like, i don’t ask for criticism. this is a hobby based on my interpretation of a character, if you think i write solas too soft then you’re welcome to think that, but i’m happy with the balance i’ve struck with his internal versus external behaviour and how he changes based upon who he’s speaking to. if you think i’m erasing straight people by making solas pan then ksjdfs. ok.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  yes!!! even if they retread ground already trodden, a) my interpretation may have adjusted since the last time i played or b) a reminder is nice. if it’s new stuff then it’s fun to think about.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  it’d depend on why they disagree. if they just disagree on a subjective opinion about what i took from a certain line, then they’re welcome to their opinion but i don’t necessarily care to hear it. if it is unintentionally hurtful then i would like to know. although rather than a comment i’d rather a non-anonymous message.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  same as the above.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  if they’re vocal about it i typically just unfollow / softblock if i was following in the first place. people can feel how they want about solas, but i’ve found over the years that if people really hate solas ooc it can often bleed into their ic interactions. it’s really weird seeing your character being brought up repeatedly in threads with others specifically to dunk on, for no reason other than i guess solas is living rent free in their heads, so at least we have that in common. but anyway unfollowing is just the best choice to avoid getting kinda pressed if i’m having a bad day.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  roleplay is the wild west of writing, so i think it’d depend on what the error was. coming at me like “you shouldn’t start a sentence with a preposition” would get a laugh, but i don’t edit my replies much if at all and mistakes will 100% happen. pointing out typos is chill so long as you do it politely.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  it depends! i’ve learned that being too easy going actually just means i’m subjecting myself to negative emotions to please people. so i’ve gotten less easy going as the years go by. how does one define “easy going” anyway? does asking that question mean i am objectively not easy going? the longer this thought goes on the more the answer seems to be “probably not,” but i like to think it could be a lot worse.