Post by Trinea on Oct 10, 2010 9:06:24 GMT -5
Just another small setback, but the Light provides in the end, Trinea thought as she pushed her spectacles back up her nose. Before her lay several letters, all penned in her tiny, neat script; once her head had cleared a bit last night, she'd brought up doing just this, and the morning saw to it that she followed through. Her left hand curled into a fist, propped beneath her chin. She wasn't fully sure if she'd forgotten anyone, but they'd have to do for now. It wasn't as though she couldn't write more should she think of anyone to ask.
The tone of all three letters could be summed up with one word: grateful. She'd had plenty of time between waking and sleeping and waking again to think back on all the things she'd been through in the past couple of years. This last...well, it certainly wasn't the worst of them, but it had left her decidedly unsettled. She wondered over safety; where else should you feel safest but where you considered your home to be? And yet she'd been plucked from the midst of Brill with almost no one the wiser until it'd been done. Still, this was her home, and she was ever so glad to be back. That was where the gratefulness was stemming from. She was home again, and now she could set about putting this most recent disaster behind her.
Trinea folded each letter carefully into thirds then flipped them over to the flat side one by one. She carefully penned the name of each recipient there, then blew at the ink until it dried sufficiently to turn them back over. A couple drops of white candlewax along the crease, then she turned her right hand downward over the hot liquid, pressing her father's signet into it to seal each. Once accomplished, she spread them out before her again and her thoughts drifted away.
There was still so much that she couldn't remember, and the fact unnerved her. Tiny gaps in memory that wouldn't come to her no matter how hard she tried to dredge them up, all flittering away before she could grasp them fully. Would the full recollection come in time? She wasn't sure. The priestess was trying to put some order to the thing; she was positive that questions would come soon, from Ish and the church, from the sergeant. It was important that she had everything sorted out beforehand.
She remembered Saturday evening well enough, for the most part. Her conversation with Mal'valen came to her easily. They'd spoken about how he'd helped Florrik, though it was plain he was loathe to do it, and what it spoke for his compassionate nature. Once he'd tired and gone off to rest, however, Trinea had found herself feeling a bit restless and sought out a place to settle herself down until Ish came home. Her feet had carried her without fail to the sermon hill and before long she'd sunk deep into meditation, the world around her fading. It was...a surprise to have snapped back from that peaceful place to find herself surrounded, to say the least.
The words of that hesitant paladin took a few moments to register. "Come with us! We won't hurt you," he'd said in perfect, southern-accented Common, and as Trinea glanced quickly amongst her assailants she'd known suddenly what a bad position she was in. A word and her shield had flared around her, hand raising to her pin and murmuring into it desperately. There'd been no answer; at least none that she could recall now, because her next thing was a reply to the masked paladin, that she wasn't going anywhere with them and a bluff that help was coming. Around the feet of the Alliance assailants danced a wolf, growling and letting up howl after howl into the darkness. The paladin had plead with her to come, his own tone taking on a bit of desperation, though that hadn't registered to her at the time. She'd turned to the wolf, begged it to go for help.
In that moment, her concentration had slipped just enough for the shield of Light to fail her, and they took the opportunity to strike as the creature darted off. She hadn't seen the blow coming, still didn't know where it came from, but her vision darkened and she stumbled back, her heel skidding on the edge before she tumbled down the steep embankment. As one body, they closed in and...there wasn't anything else, just flickering images that were so scattered they were almost like feelings. The rocking of the ground beneath her; she'd been carried then? The sting of cold against her cheeks and the flap of wings. Hours of cold and darkness. Hands stripping her down and reclothing her. Then...more darkness.
She'd awoken to find Nuhwoti crouched over her, lapping gently at her face. He'd told her some of what happened then, tried his best to heal the blow she'd taken to the head, although he couldn't mend it completely or risk discovery. There was the sharp smell of some herbal mixture as he massaged it into her head; the guards wouldn't notice it like she would, because years of blindness had sharpened her senses and the scent she caught was undoubtedly so mild as to be virtually undetectable. Afterward, he'd done his best to keep her distracted from the situation at hand, asking about her and Ish's vacation, where they'd gone, what they had done. It wasn't long, though, before she grew wearied again and sank into sleep.
However long she'd been there, it went much the same. Hazy waking times punctuated by deep sleep that couldn't be called restful. The floor was cold and hard, even if when he could, Nuhwoti let her use him as a pillow to still the shivers wracking her body. Her captors hadn't bothered to bring her food or water, nor had they given a blanket, not even straw to pad against the stone.
It was the Draenei that'd been her second glimmer of hope. Aomaho was his name. His Orcish had been terrible, and it took her a while to piece together what he'd been saying. But he'd tried to be reassuring, and his cadence had come off calm and gentle. He had even conjured food for her with his own hand, along with a skin of cold water. She hadn't thought of poisons when she snatched both up and ate greedily, far too much for how long she'd gone without. Trinea would throw that up later, but at the moment it'd felt oh, so good. Before long, he too left and Nuhwoti crept back out from his corner. That didn't last, either, because overhead there was the heavy clomp-clomp of plate boots against the wooden floor, and they angled down the stairwell.
He hadn't been caught then, fortunately, but they both knew it wasn't safe for him to stay like this. So he'd reassured her that he wouldn't be far, that he wouldn't leave her completely, and then disappeared. Sometime later, he was back at her side, and there was another druid...this one coming off slightly queer in her eyes. He spoke of things such as good and evil, balance in all things. Nuhwoti asked for food for her and the druid gave it, stealthing away afterward so quietly that it was hard to tell if he were real or another hazy dream. Fitful sleep came again, and when she awoke, it was to questioning. She was too tired, too distracted- and her head hurt far too much to focus on what the gnome had been saying. All she could do was continually repeat "I don't speak Common," even if it did nothing to impress upon him. After a while, the poking and prodding ceased and she was left alone again.
When the Draenei returned, it was with more urgency, and she knew something was happening. There were more voices, some excited, but others anxious and raised. Here and there she could hear yelling, the inflection enough that she could tell it for a rallying of troops, and she noted the cries of "For the Alliance!" and "For Stormwind!" amongst those. Another came with him, a paladin whose name she made out to be Braylor. He was to be her guard against whatever was going on upstairs. The man had the grizzled hardness about him that only a seasoned veteran soldier could give, and she watched him warily as he paced back and forth near the stairway. The Draenei was taken away shortly thereafter and the paladin's cool demeanor fled, to be replaced with a burning anger so strong it made her cringe. In her defense, she'd tried to explain that she didn't even want to be there, that she hadn't done anything to anyone, but that was apparently enough to reel him in. The man stalked toward Trinea and loomed over her crouching form, then swiftly backhanded her into mute, startled silence.
Not long thereafter...well, things had gotten even more hectic. The other captive with her, some bright, shining, utterly stupid female elf, had awoken, becoming belligerent and combative. She'd even attacked the guards, and all Trinea's pleading with her wouldn't get her to stop. The guards took the elf's weak assault easily, moving against her only defensively as Trinea continued to try and talk her down from her righteous indignation. Eventually, the Alliance captors grew annoyed and knocked the fool woman into unconsciousness, tying her up so that she couldn't be of any further trouble to them.
It was almost without warning that the sounds of pitched battle filtered down to them, the clang of steel on steel, the shouts of men and women locked in combat growing closer. She'd turned toward the sound, and even though those in the basement room had tried to silence her, Trinea started yelling, as loudly as she could, and backed herself into the corner as the stairs flooded with people. There was Erier, Horkugal...many others that she hadn't recognized, all there for her. It was overwhelming, and in a whirlwind she was swept upstairs and away. Outside it was pouring, and the only thing she could think of with any clarity was that she had no shoes. Those had been taken from her along with everything else she'd had on her person. Through all the fighting, she was taken away through the woods. Sometime later she vaguely recalled making it as far as Grom'gol, and later on she woke again in Brill.
That Draenei, Aomaho, had been there, inexplicably. He was gravely wounded, that much she could tell, but all she managed to get out was for Tanthalas and Ms. Nevi to not hurt him before she was whisked away again and up to her room. Not much longer thereafter, Ish nearly flew through the door, broken and far more battered than she could clearly recall seeing him. His every movement was etched with panic as he moved to the bedside and scooped her up into his arms. Through all the confusion, everything that'd happened, that one thing stood out in sharp clarity.
She was safe. Home again and safe, and Ish was alright.
The rest of it seemed to fade away as Trinea pulled back to the present. The light tapping persisted on the door; likely that was what had pulled her thoughts together. The priestess sighed wearily and pushed to her feet to answer. "The first in a long line of well-wishers," she murmured as she steeled herself and pulled the door open to greet whomever had come to call.
The tone of all three letters could be summed up with one word: grateful. She'd had plenty of time between waking and sleeping and waking again to think back on all the things she'd been through in the past couple of years. This last...well, it certainly wasn't the worst of them, but it had left her decidedly unsettled. She wondered over safety; where else should you feel safest but where you considered your home to be? And yet she'd been plucked from the midst of Brill with almost no one the wiser until it'd been done. Still, this was her home, and she was ever so glad to be back. That was where the gratefulness was stemming from. She was home again, and now she could set about putting this most recent disaster behind her.
Trinea folded each letter carefully into thirds then flipped them over to the flat side one by one. She carefully penned the name of each recipient there, then blew at the ink until it dried sufficiently to turn them back over. A couple drops of white candlewax along the crease, then she turned her right hand downward over the hot liquid, pressing her father's signet into it to seal each. Once accomplished, she spread them out before her again and her thoughts drifted away.
There was still so much that she couldn't remember, and the fact unnerved her. Tiny gaps in memory that wouldn't come to her no matter how hard she tried to dredge them up, all flittering away before she could grasp them fully. Would the full recollection come in time? She wasn't sure. The priestess was trying to put some order to the thing; she was positive that questions would come soon, from Ish and the church, from the sergeant. It was important that she had everything sorted out beforehand.
She remembered Saturday evening well enough, for the most part. Her conversation with Mal'valen came to her easily. They'd spoken about how he'd helped Florrik, though it was plain he was loathe to do it, and what it spoke for his compassionate nature. Once he'd tired and gone off to rest, however, Trinea had found herself feeling a bit restless and sought out a place to settle herself down until Ish came home. Her feet had carried her without fail to the sermon hill and before long she'd sunk deep into meditation, the world around her fading. It was...a surprise to have snapped back from that peaceful place to find herself surrounded, to say the least.
The words of that hesitant paladin took a few moments to register. "Come with us! We won't hurt you," he'd said in perfect, southern-accented Common, and as Trinea glanced quickly amongst her assailants she'd known suddenly what a bad position she was in. A word and her shield had flared around her, hand raising to her pin and murmuring into it desperately. There'd been no answer; at least none that she could recall now, because her next thing was a reply to the masked paladin, that she wasn't going anywhere with them and a bluff that help was coming. Around the feet of the Alliance assailants danced a wolf, growling and letting up howl after howl into the darkness. The paladin had plead with her to come, his own tone taking on a bit of desperation, though that hadn't registered to her at the time. She'd turned to the wolf, begged it to go for help.
In that moment, her concentration had slipped just enough for the shield of Light to fail her, and they took the opportunity to strike as the creature darted off. She hadn't seen the blow coming, still didn't know where it came from, but her vision darkened and she stumbled back, her heel skidding on the edge before she tumbled down the steep embankment. As one body, they closed in and...there wasn't anything else, just flickering images that were so scattered they were almost like feelings. The rocking of the ground beneath her; she'd been carried then? The sting of cold against her cheeks and the flap of wings. Hours of cold and darkness. Hands stripping her down and reclothing her. Then...more darkness.
She'd awoken to find Nuhwoti crouched over her, lapping gently at her face. He'd told her some of what happened then, tried his best to heal the blow she'd taken to the head, although he couldn't mend it completely or risk discovery. There was the sharp smell of some herbal mixture as he massaged it into her head; the guards wouldn't notice it like she would, because years of blindness had sharpened her senses and the scent she caught was undoubtedly so mild as to be virtually undetectable. Afterward, he'd done his best to keep her distracted from the situation at hand, asking about her and Ish's vacation, where they'd gone, what they had done. It wasn't long, though, before she grew wearied again and sank into sleep.
However long she'd been there, it went much the same. Hazy waking times punctuated by deep sleep that couldn't be called restful. The floor was cold and hard, even if when he could, Nuhwoti let her use him as a pillow to still the shivers wracking her body. Her captors hadn't bothered to bring her food or water, nor had they given a blanket, not even straw to pad against the stone.
It was the Draenei that'd been her second glimmer of hope. Aomaho was his name. His Orcish had been terrible, and it took her a while to piece together what he'd been saying. But he'd tried to be reassuring, and his cadence had come off calm and gentle. He had even conjured food for her with his own hand, along with a skin of cold water. She hadn't thought of poisons when she snatched both up and ate greedily, far too much for how long she'd gone without. Trinea would throw that up later, but at the moment it'd felt oh, so good. Before long, he too left and Nuhwoti crept back out from his corner. That didn't last, either, because overhead there was the heavy clomp-clomp of plate boots against the wooden floor, and they angled down the stairwell.
He hadn't been caught then, fortunately, but they both knew it wasn't safe for him to stay like this. So he'd reassured her that he wouldn't be far, that he wouldn't leave her completely, and then disappeared. Sometime later, he was back at her side, and there was another druid...this one coming off slightly queer in her eyes. He spoke of things such as good and evil, balance in all things. Nuhwoti asked for food for her and the druid gave it, stealthing away afterward so quietly that it was hard to tell if he were real or another hazy dream. Fitful sleep came again, and when she awoke, it was to questioning. She was too tired, too distracted- and her head hurt far too much to focus on what the gnome had been saying. All she could do was continually repeat "I don't speak Common," even if it did nothing to impress upon him. After a while, the poking and prodding ceased and she was left alone again.
When the Draenei returned, it was with more urgency, and she knew something was happening. There were more voices, some excited, but others anxious and raised. Here and there she could hear yelling, the inflection enough that she could tell it for a rallying of troops, and she noted the cries of "For the Alliance!" and "For Stormwind!" amongst those. Another came with him, a paladin whose name she made out to be Braylor. He was to be her guard against whatever was going on upstairs. The man had the grizzled hardness about him that only a seasoned veteran soldier could give, and she watched him warily as he paced back and forth near the stairway. The Draenei was taken away shortly thereafter and the paladin's cool demeanor fled, to be replaced with a burning anger so strong it made her cringe. In her defense, she'd tried to explain that she didn't even want to be there, that she hadn't done anything to anyone, but that was apparently enough to reel him in. The man stalked toward Trinea and loomed over her crouching form, then swiftly backhanded her into mute, startled silence.
Not long thereafter...well, things had gotten even more hectic. The other captive with her, some bright, shining, utterly stupid female elf, had awoken, becoming belligerent and combative. She'd even attacked the guards, and all Trinea's pleading with her wouldn't get her to stop. The guards took the elf's weak assault easily, moving against her only defensively as Trinea continued to try and talk her down from her righteous indignation. Eventually, the Alliance captors grew annoyed and knocked the fool woman into unconsciousness, tying her up so that she couldn't be of any further trouble to them.
It was almost without warning that the sounds of pitched battle filtered down to them, the clang of steel on steel, the shouts of men and women locked in combat growing closer. She'd turned toward the sound, and even though those in the basement room had tried to silence her, Trinea started yelling, as loudly as she could, and backed herself into the corner as the stairs flooded with people. There was Erier, Horkugal...many others that she hadn't recognized, all there for her. It was overwhelming, and in a whirlwind she was swept upstairs and away. Outside it was pouring, and the only thing she could think of with any clarity was that she had no shoes. Those had been taken from her along with everything else she'd had on her person. Through all the fighting, she was taken away through the woods. Sometime later she vaguely recalled making it as far as Grom'gol, and later on she woke again in Brill.
That Draenei, Aomaho, had been there, inexplicably. He was gravely wounded, that much she could tell, but all she managed to get out was for Tanthalas and Ms. Nevi to not hurt him before she was whisked away again and up to her room. Not much longer thereafter, Ish nearly flew through the door, broken and far more battered than she could clearly recall seeing him. His every movement was etched with panic as he moved to the bedside and scooped her up into his arms. Through all the confusion, everything that'd happened, that one thing stood out in sharp clarity.
She was safe. Home again and safe, and Ish was alright.
The rest of it seemed to fade away as Trinea pulled back to the present. The light tapping persisted on the door; likely that was what had pulled her thoughts together. The priestess sighed wearily and pushed to her feet to answer. "The first in a long line of well-wishers," she murmured as she steeled herself and pulled the door open to greet whomever had come to call.