Post by Trinea on Oct 10, 2010 9:09:47 GMT -5
This was heaven. For the first time in-- well, he didn't know HOW long, Ishbaneer was finally feeling care-free. He hadn't felt this peaceful since his vacation with Trinea, back in the summer!
The night had been spent in Brill again, for the first time that week. The menace that had put a bounty on Trinea's life had just been some no-name scoundrel that wanted a name for himself, and thought that Ishbaneer's church of zealous and capable Light followers would be an easy target. Well, the Paladin Kamerus had gone under cover and taken care of him, so there was no reason to avoid the place for safety's sake.
But when they arrived, it was even better than they had hoped! Brill was actually quiet for once! There was peace throughout the night, and Ovni, Trinea, Aomaho, Mal'valen, and Ish had all been able to spend the night laughing, drinking, and singing until they dropped.
Ishbaneer guided his drowsy beloved up the stairs of the Gallows End inn and into her suite, locking the door behind them. Once Trinea had settled into bed and dressed down into her nightwear, and Ish had stripped down to his trousers (liederhosens were fun to wear around other people, but they lost their novelty when no one was looking. Might as well go for comfort), he climbed in and snuggled up against her.
Poor lass had already fallen asleep. She'd tried to talk to him a bit, but those bright, pretty eyes sank shut after a matter of minutes. Ishbaneer didn't mind too much, though. She was so adorable when she slept. She looked peaceful. Content. Serene. Vulnerable, in that special way that made him want to protect her; and at the same time, made him feel like a real man for being able to do so. But as he tightened his arms around her and nuzzled into her hair, a realization struck Ish like a brick to the head.
She didn't just look peaceful. She really was! Nothing had gone wrong that night! Maybe even all day, as far as he knew! He stopped to do a mental tally. Surely, there were at least three things looming around the corner, waiting to kill them! Trisam? No, he was gone for good now. The Scourge? Their operatives had avoided Brill for close to half a year now. Casnar? Back to impotently sulking in other parts of the world, away from the Kiss. Edward was gone for good as well, and the git that placed the bounty on Trinea was dead now.
No betrayals. No dissent. No threats. No... no nothing! Nothing but good fun that night! The worst that had happened was when he fell off the table after singing and dancing! Oh, if only Trinea were awake! The only way the night could possibly get any better was to spend more time with her. No matter, though. He would get her up a bit earlier with breakfast; pancakes and strawberries never failed! He would have to leave for Northrend afterwards, but he would make the best of it.
Oh, that he could only spend a little more precious time with her. He was suddenly feeling very romantic, and wanted to put a blush and an adorably shy smile on Trinea's face. But rather than wake and disturb his beloved, Ish was content to adore and admire her sleeping form, running his hands over her skin beneath the bedding, and covering her readily available extremities with single-lipped kisses. And so he spent the rest of the night; lovingly and almost chastely admiring Trinea's resting body, watching her as she slept, and praying constantly to the Light, thanking it over and over that, for the first time in months, he was able to truly say everything was good. And boy, was he sure that he had it good!
Yes, everything seemed to be set right.
Brok was finally beginning to feel at ease about the whole mess with the Elven prisoner he'd taken. He felt bad enough when he had first helped to capture her; encountering her adopted father in Elwynn was just sulfur on the wound! He'd not done anything to help the man recover his daughter. Not for lack of wanting to, or even trying, mind you. He simply led the Forsaken back to the prison camps to find that they'd been sacked by a massive Horde invasion force. In a sense, they had saved eachother. Brok had been scouring Elwynn for the undead he had detected, and found Mal'valen. While Mal'valen was trying to find Trinea and recover her at all costs, Brok had showed up ready for a fight, but simply told the Forsaken that he would not allow him to endanger the lives of human soldiers.
And so they had eventually compromised. At any length, both were saved from death at the hands of the other side by it. Mal'valen might have been overcome by the guards, and Brok surely would have fallen if he tried to stand against the wave of Horde aggressors that rampaged across the forest. The Light works in mysterious ways, they had both observed.
Brok couldn't help but grin to himself as he remembered finding out that the Forsaken was still an ordained priest of the Holy Light. He'd certainly not expected that when he was hunting for Undead to smite; even less did he expect meeting one and parting ways with him as a friend. He had also managed to shake some of the guilt that had plagued him. After all, he had acted only for his country; and he had treated Trinea better than his comrades might have. The Light may very well have used him as a tool to protect her; which, really, was his goal and purpose in life. He was glad to imagine that he'd been able to serve to that capacity, even if the circumstances were undesirable, to say the least.
Perhaps things weren't that bad? They could have turned out better, yes, but by how much? "Holy Light, most merciful guide and guardian," Brok murmured as he knelt by his bed in the monastery, clutching a set of prayer beads in his hand. "I thank and praise you for your hand in what has transpired over these last few days. You saw fit to save my life, and to take what could have been a terrible sin and make it work for the better. I ask you to help me learn from this, and I praise you again for allowing me to see your work in my life. Thank you. Thank you, and please help me to rest easily now. I am your servant, Light. I am yours. Take me. Mold me. Use me. Empower me to do your will, and be the hammer in your hand. May I build up your world, and break down anything that stands in its way. Glory and eternal splendor unto you; Amen." After remaining on his knees for about five more minutes, meditating and listening for the word of the Light, the Paladin climbed into bed and laid down to sleep, feeling a strong sense of rightness about the world.
Goodness, she still wasn't used to sleeping alone.
Noctalya pulled her heavy fur blanket around her as tightly as she could, frowning as she struggled to find warmth in her meager nest. She had forgone a bedroll for much of her travels, and simply wrapped herself up in a gigantic blanket some place warm. Northrend was making such spots very difficult to find, though. And fire spirits couldn't simply be called upon to stand nearby and warm her. Next best thing would be to build a fire and let it burn down while she slept. Yes, that sounded quite pleasant, come to think of it! Noctalya hurriedly got to her hooves, still clutching her blanket around her robed body as she scampered off in search of good firewood.
The fire was nice, and it certainly helped. She wasn't so cold anymore, and probably could have fallen asleep at that point. But for some reason, she didn't want to. She sat up, still cocooned in the blanket, staring wistfully into the roaring tongues of her fire.
Noctalya had wandered the wilds alone ever since the Exodaar crashed. The only exception was when she and Baril were together, and even that was only for a few months. In fact... well, maybe it hadn't been so short a time. She remembered Brewfest last year all too well. It was the only holiday on Azeroth that she really had been able to understand on her own, and she had enjoyed the excuse to dress like a local and sample the fine Azerothian drinks and celebratory customs.
But she had enjoyed having someone to spend the night with a lot more. Baril was still alive then, and warmed her as she slept. He couldn't do that any more as a Death Knight. He-- she didn't like to think of him as a Death Knight at all, after how he'd treated her; or how he'd let others treat her, rather, and just not cared. Noctalya preferred to remember the living Baril, and her old love back on Draenor: Gorrok, the orcish hermit.
She couldn't help but snort. "A hermit." she sighed heavily in Draenic, reaching up with one hand to cover her face in shame. "Is that what I am, now? Have I turned my back on my old life so much? Am I so far removed from my people? From my family?" She had a mother, after all. One who was finally starting to show her love, in fact. She'd all but disowned Noctalya after the crash in her bitterness, but they had reconciled with the coming of the plague. That terrible plague that she had lost Baril in.
And when she had told her mother that Baril had parted with her a number of months AFTER his death, she certainly didn't expect the reaction she had gotten. Ystella, Noctalya's mother, had been angered by Noctalya's choice to pursue Gorrok, and at first had also been the same with Baril. But now, she was only offering compassion and a listening ear to her daughter, where once she surely would have heaped insults and mockery upon her. "I told you so"'s, and "You brought it upon yourself"'s were expected, but never came. Ystella had been nothing but understanding, and Noctalya had even gone so far as to ask why. Why, when she had every reason to be haughty and vindictive?
Ystella had obviously felt guilty about the past. But for once, she was able to empathize with Noctalya; even if she didn't know how it felt exactly. To lose Borodai; her husband, Noctalya's father; brought a terrible, soul-wrenching time of agony upon her. But for Noctalya to lose two men that she had loved, with what was surely close to the amount of passion she had loved Borodai with? It was heartbreaking to imagine. Noctalya still had that precious moment captured forever in her most vivid of memories.
Laying with her head on her mother's shoulder, Noctalya could only look up in bewilderment as Ystella told her, "Noctalya, you are still my daughter. And the fact that I was a poor mother after the crash-- ... perhaps beforehand, too; that does not mean that I ever wished for you to suffer. What I said about... When I said I wished you had died. I never--"
"I know." Noctalya had murmured, barely above a whisper as she saw her mother's tears begin to flow.
Ystella continued, "You are a gift, my daughter. A gift from the Light, for orchestrating your life so, but also from your father. I was able to carry you within me, delighting in knowing that I had the privilege to harbor a new life, and bring it into the world. I got to watch you grow into a mirror of the love your father and I shared; he and I, literally formed into one being." Her strong, rough fingers began to sift through Noctalya's hair as she went on; lovingly stroking her white locks as she hadn't done in decades. "I've not realized what a precious gift I had so foolishly and ungratefully tossed away until recently. And I've laid awake many a night, wondering how I could possibly become so cruel and senseless. How I could possibly have cut my heart off from the last living member of my family; who would love me unconditionally, as I should have loved her.
Noctalya, I do not blame you if you want nothing more to do with me. But I know that is not the case. And I will be eternally glad of and thankful for this night, dear one. I want you to know that I mean to make amends for my errors in the past. I want you to have a mother again; I want you to have the mother now that you didn't have when you needed me most. Will you let me do that, Noctalya? Please?"
The answer had of course been yes. Noctalya was overjoyed, even though she would have thought that her reaction would have been one of spite and anger, had she imagined her mother making that offer before she and Baril fell out. But things didn't turn out that way. While both mother and daughter had lost the men dear to them, they had regained something that was... perhaps a bit stronger. It was something more basic and pure, that was for sure. Something rooted even deeper in Draenei instinct than the drive to find a partner. Noctalya and Ystella had the bond between mother and child again, and both hoped never to lose it.
Yes, Noctalya still claimed no home. Yes, she still didn't visit often. And yes, she still lived least like a Draenei of all the things she could be compared to. Her devotion to the Light aside, she lived as a part of nature now. Sometimes, even as a force of it. She was civilized in manner still, but she had de-civilized in heart. She wanted nothing more to do with the starvation-ridden cities of mankind, or the dank and smoky caverns of dwarves and gnomes, or the strange and backward dens of the Night Elves. The only walls she wanted were mountains; trees and small caves her only refuge from the elements of weather that she, more often than not, welcomed to fall upon her.
Perhaps she had turned her back on her people's way of life. But Noctalya didn't care at this point. She was wild, strong, and free. Just as Gorrok had inspired her to be, and seen in her long before she did. She knew not what Baril had wanted for her, but she didn't care at this point. Let him stay in his crowded city with his corrupt "friends" and backstabbing cohorts. Let him be groped and kissed by the burning hands and profaned lips of devil-men. She wanted none of it. She wanted none of him; or what he was now, anyway.
She may not have had a man to warm her as she slept anymore, but she had a sense of peace, contentment, and freedom that were unprecedented.
Noctalya fell asleep by the fire, dreams of the past and visions of a wild, uncertain, and fantastic future filling her mind as she lay. When morning's light bid her to wake, Noctalya felt fresh; energized; free. It was something she couldn't explain, but she didn't have to. She didn't have to even think about it. All she had to do was hurriedly pack her blanket away, strap on her knuckle claws, and pick a direction.
And she ran. Full speed, thundering through the forests of the Howling Fjord. Away from the cold, dark night, and eastward into the promise of the rising sun.
The night had been spent in Brill again, for the first time that week. The menace that had put a bounty on Trinea's life had just been some no-name scoundrel that wanted a name for himself, and thought that Ishbaneer's church of zealous and capable Light followers would be an easy target. Well, the Paladin Kamerus had gone under cover and taken care of him, so there was no reason to avoid the place for safety's sake.
But when they arrived, it was even better than they had hoped! Brill was actually quiet for once! There was peace throughout the night, and Ovni, Trinea, Aomaho, Mal'valen, and Ish had all been able to spend the night laughing, drinking, and singing until they dropped.
Ishbaneer guided his drowsy beloved up the stairs of the Gallows End inn and into her suite, locking the door behind them. Once Trinea had settled into bed and dressed down into her nightwear, and Ish had stripped down to his trousers (liederhosens were fun to wear around other people, but they lost their novelty when no one was looking. Might as well go for comfort), he climbed in and snuggled up against her.
Poor lass had already fallen asleep. She'd tried to talk to him a bit, but those bright, pretty eyes sank shut after a matter of minutes. Ishbaneer didn't mind too much, though. She was so adorable when she slept. She looked peaceful. Content. Serene. Vulnerable, in that special way that made him want to protect her; and at the same time, made him feel like a real man for being able to do so. But as he tightened his arms around her and nuzzled into her hair, a realization struck Ish like a brick to the head.
She didn't just look peaceful. She really was! Nothing had gone wrong that night! Maybe even all day, as far as he knew! He stopped to do a mental tally. Surely, there were at least three things looming around the corner, waiting to kill them! Trisam? No, he was gone for good now. The Scourge? Their operatives had avoided Brill for close to half a year now. Casnar? Back to impotently sulking in other parts of the world, away from the Kiss. Edward was gone for good as well, and the git that placed the bounty on Trinea was dead now.
No betrayals. No dissent. No threats. No... no nothing! Nothing but good fun that night! The worst that had happened was when he fell off the table after singing and dancing! Oh, if only Trinea were awake! The only way the night could possibly get any better was to spend more time with her. No matter, though. He would get her up a bit earlier with breakfast; pancakes and strawberries never failed! He would have to leave for Northrend afterwards, but he would make the best of it.
Oh, that he could only spend a little more precious time with her. He was suddenly feeling very romantic, and wanted to put a blush and an adorably shy smile on Trinea's face. But rather than wake and disturb his beloved, Ish was content to adore and admire her sleeping form, running his hands over her skin beneath the bedding, and covering her readily available extremities with single-lipped kisses. And so he spent the rest of the night; lovingly and almost chastely admiring Trinea's resting body, watching her as she slept, and praying constantly to the Light, thanking it over and over that, for the first time in months, he was able to truly say everything was good. And boy, was he sure that he had it good!
Yes, everything seemed to be set right.
Brok was finally beginning to feel at ease about the whole mess with the Elven prisoner he'd taken. He felt bad enough when he had first helped to capture her; encountering her adopted father in Elwynn was just sulfur on the wound! He'd not done anything to help the man recover his daughter. Not for lack of wanting to, or even trying, mind you. He simply led the Forsaken back to the prison camps to find that they'd been sacked by a massive Horde invasion force. In a sense, they had saved eachother. Brok had been scouring Elwynn for the undead he had detected, and found Mal'valen. While Mal'valen was trying to find Trinea and recover her at all costs, Brok had showed up ready for a fight, but simply told the Forsaken that he would not allow him to endanger the lives of human soldiers.
And so they had eventually compromised. At any length, both were saved from death at the hands of the other side by it. Mal'valen might have been overcome by the guards, and Brok surely would have fallen if he tried to stand against the wave of Horde aggressors that rampaged across the forest. The Light works in mysterious ways, they had both observed.
Brok couldn't help but grin to himself as he remembered finding out that the Forsaken was still an ordained priest of the Holy Light. He'd certainly not expected that when he was hunting for Undead to smite; even less did he expect meeting one and parting ways with him as a friend. He had also managed to shake some of the guilt that had plagued him. After all, he had acted only for his country; and he had treated Trinea better than his comrades might have. The Light may very well have used him as a tool to protect her; which, really, was his goal and purpose in life. He was glad to imagine that he'd been able to serve to that capacity, even if the circumstances were undesirable, to say the least.
Perhaps things weren't that bad? They could have turned out better, yes, but by how much? "Holy Light, most merciful guide and guardian," Brok murmured as he knelt by his bed in the monastery, clutching a set of prayer beads in his hand. "I thank and praise you for your hand in what has transpired over these last few days. You saw fit to save my life, and to take what could have been a terrible sin and make it work for the better. I ask you to help me learn from this, and I praise you again for allowing me to see your work in my life. Thank you. Thank you, and please help me to rest easily now. I am your servant, Light. I am yours. Take me. Mold me. Use me. Empower me to do your will, and be the hammer in your hand. May I build up your world, and break down anything that stands in its way. Glory and eternal splendor unto you; Amen." After remaining on his knees for about five more minutes, meditating and listening for the word of the Light, the Paladin climbed into bed and laid down to sleep, feeling a strong sense of rightness about the world.
Goodness, she still wasn't used to sleeping alone.
Noctalya pulled her heavy fur blanket around her as tightly as she could, frowning as she struggled to find warmth in her meager nest. She had forgone a bedroll for much of her travels, and simply wrapped herself up in a gigantic blanket some place warm. Northrend was making such spots very difficult to find, though. And fire spirits couldn't simply be called upon to stand nearby and warm her. Next best thing would be to build a fire and let it burn down while she slept. Yes, that sounded quite pleasant, come to think of it! Noctalya hurriedly got to her hooves, still clutching her blanket around her robed body as she scampered off in search of good firewood.
The fire was nice, and it certainly helped. She wasn't so cold anymore, and probably could have fallen asleep at that point. But for some reason, she didn't want to. She sat up, still cocooned in the blanket, staring wistfully into the roaring tongues of her fire.
Noctalya had wandered the wilds alone ever since the Exodaar crashed. The only exception was when she and Baril were together, and even that was only for a few months. In fact... well, maybe it hadn't been so short a time. She remembered Brewfest last year all too well. It was the only holiday on Azeroth that she really had been able to understand on her own, and she had enjoyed the excuse to dress like a local and sample the fine Azerothian drinks and celebratory customs.
But she had enjoyed having someone to spend the night with a lot more. Baril was still alive then, and warmed her as she slept. He couldn't do that any more as a Death Knight. He-- she didn't like to think of him as a Death Knight at all, after how he'd treated her; or how he'd let others treat her, rather, and just not cared. Noctalya preferred to remember the living Baril, and her old love back on Draenor: Gorrok, the orcish hermit.
She couldn't help but snort. "A hermit." she sighed heavily in Draenic, reaching up with one hand to cover her face in shame. "Is that what I am, now? Have I turned my back on my old life so much? Am I so far removed from my people? From my family?" She had a mother, after all. One who was finally starting to show her love, in fact. She'd all but disowned Noctalya after the crash in her bitterness, but they had reconciled with the coming of the plague. That terrible plague that she had lost Baril in.
And when she had told her mother that Baril had parted with her a number of months AFTER his death, she certainly didn't expect the reaction she had gotten. Ystella, Noctalya's mother, had been angered by Noctalya's choice to pursue Gorrok, and at first had also been the same with Baril. But now, she was only offering compassion and a listening ear to her daughter, where once she surely would have heaped insults and mockery upon her. "I told you so"'s, and "You brought it upon yourself"'s were expected, but never came. Ystella had been nothing but understanding, and Noctalya had even gone so far as to ask why. Why, when she had every reason to be haughty and vindictive?
Ystella had obviously felt guilty about the past. But for once, she was able to empathize with Noctalya; even if she didn't know how it felt exactly. To lose Borodai; her husband, Noctalya's father; brought a terrible, soul-wrenching time of agony upon her. But for Noctalya to lose two men that she had loved, with what was surely close to the amount of passion she had loved Borodai with? It was heartbreaking to imagine. Noctalya still had that precious moment captured forever in her most vivid of memories.
Laying with her head on her mother's shoulder, Noctalya could only look up in bewilderment as Ystella told her, "Noctalya, you are still my daughter. And the fact that I was a poor mother after the crash-- ... perhaps beforehand, too; that does not mean that I ever wished for you to suffer. What I said about... When I said I wished you had died. I never--"
"I know." Noctalya had murmured, barely above a whisper as she saw her mother's tears begin to flow.
Ystella continued, "You are a gift, my daughter. A gift from the Light, for orchestrating your life so, but also from your father. I was able to carry you within me, delighting in knowing that I had the privilege to harbor a new life, and bring it into the world. I got to watch you grow into a mirror of the love your father and I shared; he and I, literally formed into one being." Her strong, rough fingers began to sift through Noctalya's hair as she went on; lovingly stroking her white locks as she hadn't done in decades. "I've not realized what a precious gift I had so foolishly and ungratefully tossed away until recently. And I've laid awake many a night, wondering how I could possibly become so cruel and senseless. How I could possibly have cut my heart off from the last living member of my family; who would love me unconditionally, as I should have loved her.
Noctalya, I do not blame you if you want nothing more to do with me. But I know that is not the case. And I will be eternally glad of and thankful for this night, dear one. I want you to know that I mean to make amends for my errors in the past. I want you to have a mother again; I want you to have the mother now that you didn't have when you needed me most. Will you let me do that, Noctalya? Please?"
The answer had of course been yes. Noctalya was overjoyed, even though she would have thought that her reaction would have been one of spite and anger, had she imagined her mother making that offer before she and Baril fell out. But things didn't turn out that way. While both mother and daughter had lost the men dear to them, they had regained something that was... perhaps a bit stronger. It was something more basic and pure, that was for sure. Something rooted even deeper in Draenei instinct than the drive to find a partner. Noctalya and Ystella had the bond between mother and child again, and both hoped never to lose it.
Yes, Noctalya still claimed no home. Yes, she still didn't visit often. And yes, she still lived least like a Draenei of all the things she could be compared to. Her devotion to the Light aside, she lived as a part of nature now. Sometimes, even as a force of it. She was civilized in manner still, but she had de-civilized in heart. She wanted nothing more to do with the starvation-ridden cities of mankind, or the dank and smoky caverns of dwarves and gnomes, or the strange and backward dens of the Night Elves. The only walls she wanted were mountains; trees and small caves her only refuge from the elements of weather that she, more often than not, welcomed to fall upon her.
Perhaps she had turned her back on her people's way of life. But Noctalya didn't care at this point. She was wild, strong, and free. Just as Gorrok had inspired her to be, and seen in her long before she did. She knew not what Baril had wanted for her, but she didn't care at this point. Let him stay in his crowded city with his corrupt "friends" and backstabbing cohorts. Let him be groped and kissed by the burning hands and profaned lips of devil-men. She wanted none of it. She wanted none of him; or what he was now, anyway.
She may not have had a man to warm her as she slept anymore, but she had a sense of peace, contentment, and freedom that were unprecedented.
Noctalya fell asleep by the fire, dreams of the past and visions of a wild, uncertain, and fantastic future filling her mind as she lay. When morning's light bid her to wake, Noctalya felt fresh; energized; free. It was something she couldn't explain, but she didn't have to. She didn't have to even think about it. All she had to do was hurriedly pack her blanket away, strap on her knuckle claws, and pick a direction.
And she ran. Full speed, thundering through the forests of the Howling Fjord. Away from the cold, dark night, and eastward into the promise of the rising sun.
