lies

The look was priceless on Teufelia's face.  Since it wasn't often I'd catch my sly cousin compeletly off guard.

She took another sip from her glass of wine to wash the taste of debelief off her tongue.  

"Freyian...you sure...it was ok for me to lie to you?"

 I didn't even bother to hide the smirk "This one time, you're forgiven."

 I think her eyes crossed when I said that..but it was hard to tell since she up ended her glass to drain the rest of it's contents.

 "Listen Freyian, when you come back to your senses or sober up whichever comes first.  You can yell at me about the lie."  She set her glass on the table and slipped away from the bar.  Off to committ some form of skullduggery somewhere I'm sure.

Everything was... fuzzy.

Nothing seemed real when her lashes fluttered open and quickly squeezed shut at the bright unapologetic sunlight that bore down on her from the large floor to ceiling window across from her bed. With a soft groan, the woman twisted beneath the sheets that were keeping her warm to find a more comfortable position along the cooler side of her mattress.

              The loudness of his own voice woke Teslaan with a jump.  Gasping, he brought his hands to his throat, feeling for the injury that felt so real to him a moment ago.  There was nothing.  Eyes wide and glowing in the darkness, Teslaan wiped his sweat-covered face with a shaking hand.  His eyes darted around the room looking for an assailant, but found no one.  He was alone.  Despite his recently acquired status and lands, he had yet to hire a full staff and the estate was maintained only by a handful of garden tenders.  Covered in a thin sheen of sweat, Teslaan peeled back the silk covers of the large bed and stood slowly. 

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

~ Sounds of Silence, Simon and Garfunkel

I'd gone to the Dawnfire estate full of fire – I was ready to finally tell Darroc no. I was ready to tell him that I would not go through with this marriage...could not. That he should find a way to nullify it, or I'd just...have to take things into my own hands.

That's not how it happened, though.

I lied to him.

“You had something to hide -
Should have hidden it, shouldn't you?”

He wasn't supposed to be there, granted. I wasn't ready for him. Hadn't prepared.

He'd get what I had, then.

 What my raw nerves would give him, that is.

 “I didn't expect...”

The door of the office opens and Kozha strides in, beads and charms rattling as he moves confidently toward the large desk. The middle-aged goblin behind the desk looks up from her ledger, gaze traveling up and down the young troll appraisingly.  He stands before her in a vividly colored robe, with fetishes dangling from his sleeves and several fat pouches hanging from his belt.  A feathered headdress stands tall on his head, beaded braids trailing down from underneath, and his expression is one of smug confidence.

"And how can I be of service to you today?" Peraline asks, lacing her hands in front of her.

I don’t know how long I lay with the dead. The light in that place shifts so little between day and night. Or perhaps whatever has replaced the functions of my eyes simply cannot tell the difference.

It was the rain that brought me back to myself. Cold, fresh drops that struck my face, and plinked off my armour. Though I was convinced I would never feel again, the discomforting damp and chill broke through the layers of my shock and forced me to move.

I could not bring myself to take shelter in the tomb again, nor did I think its keeper would welcome me back. Instead I followed the worn path to a ruined village, and took shelter in what may once have been an inn.

Warmth. I had not expected that, and it brought with it a relief that left me sitting by the fire, so happy I could still feel it, that for the moment I could feel nothing else.

He is sitting on a park bench as I approach, checking his watch and looking annoyed.

“Colonel Goswell.” I keep my tone as flat and official as I can to hide my nervousness.

He looks up at the sound of my voice, a puzzled look on his face. “Yes?”

“Miss Zemynovna will not be joining you, I’m afraid. She seems to have left town rather suddenly.”

His puzzlement changes to a frown. “What? Why?”

 I’m pretty sure my jaw was broken, teeth felt loose on one side of my mouth and all I have been tasting is copper. I hate when I do something stupid…. Especially since every time I found myself bleeding.. It was usually for someone else. This was no exception. How long have I been here?

Do they not know where we were in the world in the times they send us to? Or are the threads of my lives so tangled even a bronze cannot trace them? Whatever the reason, the result is the same.

“We have tah leave. Now.” He’s out of his seat and on the stairs before the words are finished. As she comes out to clear the tables, he keeps his back to her, though there’s no chance of her recognizing him, wouldn’t be even without the illusion. We haven’t met yet.

Reginald made his way to the Keep gardens, finding Lirriel relaxing there post-Harrigan exam. He held up an old, worn, leather-bound journal.

Lirriel smiled and waved. “Hey Reggie. What's that?”

“My mother's only journal. It was in with the rest of her effects...I haven't gone through it personally but, I know you'd...expressed some interest in her after that whole debacle with Vanavywn.”

“We can look through it together. Have a seat.” She patted a spot next to her on the stone bench. “Want me to start? And where'd you find it?”

“It was in a box one of her servants had placed her things in, I found it burried under silk scarves and jewelry.” Reginald ran his hand over the cover and opened the journal. “Right, might as well get started.”

Lirriel reached over and gave Reggie's shoulder a friendly squeeze, and looked down at the journal. “Interesting drawings..." She frowned, headtilting as she looked them over.

Trark wuffed and scratched at the door. Aerie set the teapot on the stove and peaked out a window, smiling as she saw Lirriel stabling her talbuk before turning to the house. She opened the door for the priestess. “Hey sweetie...” Her greeting faded as she saw the stormy look in her daughter's gray eyes before the younger woman had a chance to look away.

“What's wrong?” Aerie asked while Lirriel looked around the room. “Did you and Drauglos have a fight...?” Trark looked between the two, and then slunk to Aerie's bed behind the curtain in the back of the room.

“No. We're fine.” She turned, hands on her hips, eying her mother. “I know about Lormar.”

The stench of blood filled the woman's nostrils. She clung to the tabard tightly in her hand. From first glace you would think that the fabric was coated in the crimson blood, however if eyes were to peer closer you might find the tabard she carried was that of a Scarlet Crusader.

We had an Arrangement, the necromancer and I.  He would teach me enough of his art to keep my mother alive, and I in turn would do whatever he asked.  It was simple and I liked it that way.

It started out well enough, at first I could go and see my mother every few weeks or so.  Then weeks turned to months, and months to years.  It had been nearly three years since I last saw my mother's face.  And if it hadn't been for the loss of Deatholme it would have been a three more I'm sure. 

The trap door swung open with a crack as repeated blows finally took their toll on the flimsy lock that had been put in place. Asilia climbed out first followed by Mirage warping back up, her jaws still bloodied with cultist blood. She looked up intime to hear several gun clicks, and a line of footmen stood on the other end of the kitchen aiming guns at her. She spotted Blythe stepping infront of them, behind him was the cook that had let her down into the cellar to begin with. She blinks abit at them before kneeling down and petting Mirage.

"Can....I help you?"

Aaron watches the alley entrance wearily, hidden behind a large pile of boxes, readying himself as he sees Mandy walk into the alley. She looks around for May, frowning a bit when she does not see her friend. A hammer of light suddenly strikes her back and Aaron steps out, sneering at the stunned girl. He draws his sword from his cane and slashes her shoulder with the poisoned blade. She looks at him, shocked and confused, and she stumbles a bit as the stun wares off and she fumbles for her dagger.

"You humans are such strange creatures. You seem to have no sense of loyalty at all." He raises his blade "And yet you're still so very gullible."

Asilia sat at a barren cold desk with an ink quill in hand. Her hand moved slow and delicately as she composed a letter. A letter that should help her eliminate a problem that had arose, Lord Kelane was right sneaking into Stormwind would be ill advised since it was the bastion of the Lich King's enemies. A small smile crept up Asilia's face as she wrote.