I haven't posted a bunch of doodles on here. Thought I might throw out an art dump for anyone who might enjoy...
We can't tell the weather down here, two levels down burried at the bottom of the Stockades below the great city of Stormwind Proper. Surrounded by dirt and bones and a good number of worms, I suspect. No windows on the cell - and Gods believe it I wish there were, from the stink pouring from the chamber hole in the corner. I like to imagine its raining up there - the fresh smell of water rolling off clay rooftops and splashing onto cobble streets, filling the cannals to bloat against the sides of bridges. There's a cleansing thought to it, and it makes the stagnacy of another nameless day staring at these walls just a bit more beareable.
Journal entry, White Hart
Laurai seemed to think she was weak, helpless, worthless. Others risked themselves to bring her back, some trapped with no immediate way home. She’s far from unwanted, and I doubt as helpless as she feels right now after all she’s been through, and with her baby so close.
I’m the one feeling helpless. I can give supportive words, comfort as I can. Even offer medicines to help sleeplessness, stress, and nausea. But what else can I really do?
(( This Sunday!
At 5pm goblin server time and running until around 7pm server time, I'm guessing, I'll be opening the first "Black Farthing" RP night at the World's End Tavern.
Pop by to say hi, pat Kharris's pregnant belly, and taunt her with the alcohol she can't drink. ))
Ghuuuuuuuuuuurab! * Kharris's voice echoes across the bar and her frown is deep. She stands akimbo, summoning up all the intimidation a petite, pregnant gypsy can. * Get out of that rum!
Against the wind and the tide I could stand any shock.
Straight and proud like Silvemoon upon her rock.
I let no woman near I suffered for Light's care.
In the heart of the night I saw the lightning flare.
A black, leather bound book rests in a locked box, buried amongst silk linens and a tangle of colored ribbons in a hole of a great tree trunk, high above the fields of the Ecodome in Netherstorm. A wayward traveler's journal, perhaps? Or a diary of a young teenaged magus seeking love in all the wrong places?
Neither. A ledger of a thriving business resurrected from the dead and given a new name. There is no boardroom, no staff meetings, no strict dresscode. Can you kill? Can you be discreet? Can you supply that which is in great demand: murder; assassination; vengeance, custom ordered to client's specifications?
Then, perhaps, we may have a job for you.
“And so, this is the teaching of the Second chapter of the Fifth Book of Virtues. Blessed is the Light.”
Time moves differently here, it seems. This morning, I went for a walk around my small world, bounded by mountains. I felt the dirt and stones beneath my bare feet, and I enjoyed the wind in my hair. When I got back to camp, I was a little sweaty from my climb, so I went to use some of my homemade soap in the stream. The ground crunched underfoot, and the dry grasses along the bank tickled my legs. The sun was hot on my shoulders and cheeks. I unfastened the stays of my kilt and let it drop from my hips. For a moment I stood under the sun and enjoyed being alive.
It was Monday morning. Mail day, now that she wasn't conveniently at the posts everyday. She would trudge over to Shattrath, clean up on Scryer's Tier then head to the apartment for a quick tea and then a romp around the big city for a few hours before hiring an engineer to send her to Everlook in Winterspring. It was becoming a tradition.
Kharris smiled with satisfaction as the click on the mailbox processed her letters. She always liked the way the mail symbol flashed to let you know it was doing it's job. She sent ou
It was a long hike to get up here.. I didn't bring my bird. No point, really. She'd have nothing to eat, and I don't want to be foraging.. there's other things I need to do. She'll be fine.. stabled in Thunder Bluff. I told Bas to go hunting once we got here.. no clue when I'll see him again. I haven't seen Cinnabar in weeks. I wish I knew where he was.. but cats are cats. He may be busy. Maybe when I go home, I'll find him. Hope he's okay.
((Warning: Contains sex, incest, homosexuality, and child abuse. Read at your own risk))
The sandstorm outside is howling, whipping banshee screams through the deserted inner circle of Gadgetztan. Thousands of tiny pebbles crash against the windows of the inn room we’re camped out in. I can barely hear my own panting against the staccato. The sand sounds like gunfire and women’s screams, and I close my eyes against it.
The younger rogue at my back shifts, dipping the threadbare mattress, as he moans a recovering sigh. I can feel his fingers brush between my shoulder blades, swirling in the sweat and sandy grit beaded on my skin. He says something in a low murmur but it’s lost in the storm.
Something isn’t right here…
I threw out the last of the strawberry ice cream today. I remember when I bought it. It was before we were even together: we'd had an argument about Zahaith. We were barely more than acquaintances, but I knew she was special. So the ice cream goes, because there is no one here to eat it.
(( While not technically "NSFW", you may want to use caution. >_> ))
~From the personal diary of Pri'kha Cruciare~
-Ecodome Farfield, Netherstorm-
I wonder where they've all gone.
Fragments of family.
Can things be as they were?
But they can be better.
(( Response to: www.rp-haven.com/blog/iloam/under_your_spell ))
Fluttering, her eyes opened to the darkened room. Dawn was creeping in the windows, but night’s darkness still clung to the corners even in this early light. The over zealous sun dazzled her and she withdrew instinctively to the cool comfort of the shadows, blinking.
The shadows smelled of leather and whiskey and ... him. A smile grew very slowly with rising consciousness, and she felt as languid and delicious as the moon sinking into the sea. Her dimples were deep and sweet, and she shifted to be closer to him.
Do you truly think a bandage roll will make my heart not hurt? Did you want me to overhear? He knifed me! And you rewarded him with your love once more given to the unworthy. Bandages aren't enough to heal me. My ears won't stop hearing your cries. I'd heard them before, you see... given to ME. You act out of turn, Kharris.. you act to be a knife in my heart cutting deeper than your darling Iloam's blade in my back. The troll had the right of it. I intend to fight.. alpha male indeed, I'll be. If my smile is what you seek, you'll find it. But not at the price you're making me pay... smiles don't come after what I heard.
Her hair falls against the pillow like inky tentacles, reaching for the cool rays of sun that slat in from the windows. They don’t hold any warmth – just light reflected brightly off the snow piled against the sill, but she turns her face towards the golden dawn light anyway. The Light… I suppose it calls to her even in her sleep. I slide the tray of breakfast across the dull, flea-bitten mattress and reach my fingers towards her hair. My shadow falls across her face and I pause. I’ve broken it – the perfect picture. Her small nose twitches with her dreams and my breath holds.
I don’t want to break you, Kharris. I don’t want to be the shadow across your light.
…But I’ve never been anything but selfish.
Llew lay in bed. The ringing in his ears had faded enough for voices to drift up from below. After a short time, two familiar voices ascended. In the blackness of his room, shutters closed, the hunter listened with growing fury as they moved down the hall a little. Cries soon followed.. cries which made his body stir. He glared down at himself, and lifted a hand to bite it hard, willing the sharp burst of pain to silence his rebellious flesh. The increasing volume in this sensitive ears of their voices - or was he simply listening more closely now? - frustrated him further, and he rolled, grabbing the pillow and tugging it up to block his ears from hearing the sound of Liore and the human woman in the throes of delight.
Fucking Liore. HA. Fucking... yes. Llew ground his teeth. His body felt too tight for him. His head hurt. Throbbed. Maybe from the spell and the flash which had blinded him downstairs.. not before he'd felt Iloam's cheek under his fist.
For my wife, an orchid.. fragile, delicate, and... in essence.. created. Artificial. Her lips' hue has never been that of an innocent, nor the artful shadows about her eyes. I'm not clever, but I'm not a fool. For that girl.. Heulwenn, or Gwynne... she's a Lily of the Valley, I think.. delicate, fragrant.. but something about her seeks the shade, I think.. and may well be deadly. For that kind priest.. Requiem? A flower of Jasmine.. he spoke so soothingly, for all that the word he spoke enraged my very soul.
Booty Bay has been my solace for so long, it’s no wonder when times get tough, I find myself deep into my cups at the tip of the world. I’d come for my own reasons – running away, you might say, though I’d slit your throat for the insinuation. All the same, the empty drawer Kharris left at the Shattrath flat haunts me all the way out here, alone on a barstool at a shanty dive new to town.
I wasn’t here two days before Seahorn was talking me into taking a job. The little slip of paper is nestled between my jerkin and shirt, itching my breast. I’d been fed a line about the bartender splitting his wages with Bloodsail’s – but if you ask me, The Salty Sailor’s been a beacon in this town, and there ain’t no more reason for it than tradition. Either way, I can’t be bothered. I’ll earn my quid and be on my way.
After another round.
Because Llew asked nicely. My apologies to Kharris and Sze!
Llew rose, looking with achingly numb eyes at the figure of his wife in her dressing robe. "Well." His voice is dead. "What do you want to do about us, then?". At his tone, Szeharia averted her eyes.
Her voice was almost diffident. "I have no intention to call for my solictor." She quickly glanced up and away again.
Llew continued in the same flat, dead voice. "Why not? You don't love me. I'm not about to be a devotee. You want me around to protect you.. I can certainly do that in a role where you aren't expectedto share a bed with me. Nether, there may be some idiot boy aching to be all I was, after all."
To this, Szeharia spoke despondently in reply, "You really do not care at all for me."
"Oh, I care. Enough that I'd protect you anyway.. keep the wolves away from you. But I can't just.. just adore you. Not after all this. I need to be loved, Szeharia.. and I'm not."
I've never felt this tired.. this violated. That's the word.. I can feel him inside me. What a fool I was.. she was right. Stupid, idiot boy. I thought I knew him.. I guess I only found the darkness in ME.. and then he truly came.. and I couldn't fight him.. he wanted her. Oh Light, he wanted her. I could see from beneath.. it was like I was in a long box - ha, maybe a coffin.. MY coffin.. and looking up at him through dark glass. I could see everything he was going to do to her. At first, I was so tired.. it didn't matter. But then she turned her head, suddenly shy, vulnerable, and told him she was afraid she'd disappoint.. ME... in bed. I saw the wolf above me slaver at the thought of that, and I couldn't take it. I couldn't let him do that to her.. not with MY body. I may not love her, but I won't let him do THAT. I fought.. rose up like an avenging something.. heh.. probably something battered and broken, in truth. I fought him. And I lost. He pushed me back down..
He waved when I came in, a little smile. Lazy. Bored.
She walks in; a nightmare. Her beauty is horrifying, mesmerizing. I am not the only one who notices. Iloam, you would never protect me, would you? Not from her.
"The chamber was in confusion-all the voices shouting loud.
I could only just hear, a voice quite near say, "Please help me through the crowd"
'Said if I helped her thru' she could help me too, but I could see that she was wholly blind.
But from her pale face and her pale skin, a moonlight shined."
- Lilywhite Lilith, Genesis
Llewellyn Brightcloud stood calmly outside the chamber within which he would become Szeharia Everbloom's husband. He could hear ritual chanting with which he was unfamiliar, and quelled a nervous thought sternly. He turned, and faced one wall, and closed his eyes. Looked within himself. Thoughts rippled in the usually still waters of his mind like savage pike sculling amid river reeds for their prey.
She betrayed me. She tricked me. For all she claimed, she hunted me for my supposed money. It's hers now. I could have forgiven that.. forgiven all of it, even.. but for what my Kharris told me. She dared threaten my soul's ease. I could have broken this off when I knew that. That Szeharia would dare touch what I need in my life.
Shattrath was busy. Languages rolled around her like water, drowning her. Common. Thalassian. Draenei. Orcish. A smattering of dwarven for color. The musical lilt of Gnomish and the subtle whisper of Trollish. Her bangles chimed nervously with her graceful, quick steps dancing her through the crowds. The sounds of the Lower City markets enveloped her as she moved down the street. She blocked her ears to the voices, willing herself only to hear the music of the cacophony. No words. Just noise.
If you listened the words, you might have hear to them. And words had powers she couldn't resist. They could enthrall, anger, hurt, soothe, and order.
Oddly enough it was the smaller words that seem to matter so much: Yes. No. You. Need. Love. I. Hate. Me. We. Want.