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jadedmusingsTitle: A Dangerous Yet Fruitless Endeavor
Fandom: Pairings: World of Warcraft
Prompt: N/A
Warnings: None.
Rating: PG-13 (Adult situations, allusions to sex.)
Word Count: 1,188
Summary: Overcome with grief and frustration at being unable to prevent Yarrow's abduction and then unable to find any clues as to his whereabouts, Folami takes matters into her own hand and charges into Deatholme.
Notes: Right, so this writing will accomplish absolutely nothing. Still, it begged to be written even if Folami's efforts are going to be fruitless. And when she fails, she is going to be pretty much well over the deep-end and probably going into hiding to beat herself up thoroughly. And that's not considering who else might be watching. Also, memories trapped in soulstones idea shamelessy taken from Nagaina. (Yes, I'm well aware of how much it sucks.)
At Thalassian Pass she brought her mount to a halt, the dreadsteed vanishing into thin air before the warlock's feet touched the ground. A strong wind flowed through the gate making her cloak billow out behind her as she searched for a hiding place. She'd chosen this place not because she knew it would be significant to the others—she didn't—but because it seemed the most logical place for such a thing to go.
She stopped behind an overturned wagon, its wood warped and rotting. After brushing away some dead leaves and a build-up of dirt she reached into her pouch to find the soulstone she'd made on the journey to Lordaeron. She held the orb up, watching its surface become iridescent, the colors shifting and swirling. In her mind, images flared to life, replicas of her memories, the importance of which she hoped would be recognized by her friends and not by those who sought her.
"The lock is enchanted," she hears herself say to Zaruk as he tugs on the latch holding the leather-bound journal shut. "Should something happen to me, it will open."
The orc looks at her skeptically. "And you trust me with your secrets?"
"I trust you to have the wisdom to know who to share them with." Her fingers fidget with the strap of her travel pack slung over her shoulder. She glances anxiously behind her to see that Keldris and Skyspear are almost ready to depart for the search.
"I don't understand, but I will do all I can to honor your wishes." He stumbles backward in surprise as she wraps her arms around him in a sudden, fierce hug.
"Thank you," she whispers into his ear. She doesn't wait for his response, instead dashing off to her waiting gryphon. Lordaeron is a lengthy journey and she's never been one for long good-byes.
The colors moved again and Folami scarcely had the time to draw another breath before she was thrust into another vision.
The fire has burned itself down to a few smoldering embers, and though there's still heat to be felt, it doesn't register for her. She has tried--and failed--to sleep. Meditation has proven fruitless as her mind continues to revisit the vision of Twinyarrow being swallowed by those dark shadows.
"I was here," she murmurs quietly. "How did I not see it?" Over and over she examines the events and each and every time she comes to the same conclusion. She has failed utterly and completely. It was beyond naivety to believe there would not be an attack. If she had taken the time to look, she might have discovered the anomaly before Yarrow's arrival, or perhaps she might have sensed him and been able to prevent his abduction. But she didn't.
And Yarrow is paying the price for her foolishness.
"I'm sorry," she says to the empty air. "I'm sorry for my failures and for what I must do." She raises her hands and begins to gather energy to create a soulstone.
The lump in her throat refused to go away. She swallowed again and set the stone on the ground. With her fingers imbued with subtle fel energies, she passed her hand over the orb. The magic contained within the stone sang in response, calling out to her "other" senses and she felt its gentle tug. If anyone approached the area and probed magically, it would behave as a beacon.
She placed the stone on the ground almost reverently and then reached for a second one in her pouch. This one was different, duller than the first and she almost hesitated to test it, but she had to be sure. With her free hand she found her skinning knife and made a small knick in her palm under the stone. Blood welled to the surface and the stone reacted immediately, brightening to a purplish red until it matched the color of her blood.
Dalaran. His face above hers, his hair falling forward to frame his cheeks. For a moment his eyes brighten and time stands still before the moment of sweet surrender.
Northpass Tower. Good-byes are always hard and this one is no different. She holds onto him tightly as if afraid he'll disappear should she relax even for a second.
"I love you," she whispers into his ear. "I will come back to you." She forces herself to let go and stands back to see his face. "I will find you, always."
The words repeat as the vision fades.
"I will come back to you. Always."
Folami wiped a tear from her cheek. The second stone wouldn't react to any magic or energy save for his. Should the worst happen the memories locked inside it would forever be lost to time. Carefully, she laid the second stone next to the first and between them she placed a rabbit's foot, its mate still attached to her belt. Another message only he would understand. She pushed the leaves back over the stones and said a silent prayer to the forces that be in the hopes the stones would only be recovered by the people she wanted to see it.
***
She didn't stop again until she arrived at the gates of Deatholme. Wisps of ethereal smoke curled from the dreadsteed's snout as she released one of her eerie neighs. Behind them fel energy coalesced and formed into a large humanoid shape. In seconds Rinnzavin the felguard was there, his axe balanced over his shoulder.
"You are not bound to accompany me," Folami said.
"I know," the demon replied. He considered the guards standing watch on either side of the gate. "Left," he said.
With a slight grin, Folami nodded and urged her mount forward as Rinnzavin charged past them. "Not much longer, Shula, and our destiny shall be revealed." She dug her heels into the dreadsteed's sides and let loose a plume of fire at the guard on the right, the magic obliterating the creature at the same moment the other fell to Rinnzavin's axe.
Charging into the gate on a fiery steed with her cloak billowing behind her, she imagined she appeared as one of the monsters from her childhood nightmares. In any other context, it might have proven useful, but Deatholme itself was made of nightmares and neither the banshees nor the shambling skeletons showed any fear of the warlock and her demon. They began advancing as soon as the two cleared the gate.
Folami dismounted quickly, her skin crawling with fel magic and the air around her crackling with power. Fire rained from the sky at her call and over the wails of the banshees meeting their end at fire or axe, a roar rose up and echoed off the surrounding buildings.
"Kalvarin Eventide," said a demonic figure in the center of a charred circle that barely resembled Folami. Her wings stretched wide and she closed her eyes, reveling in the lingering echoes of anger, hatred, and fear that still permeated the air. "I've come to collect what's mine."
Fandom: Pairings: World of Warcraft
Prompt: N/A
Warnings: None.
Rating: PG-13 (Adult situations, allusions to sex.)
Word Count: 1,188
Summary: Overcome with grief and frustration at being unable to prevent Yarrow's abduction and then unable to find any clues as to his whereabouts, Folami takes matters into her own hand and charges into Deatholme.
Notes: Right, so this writing will accomplish absolutely nothing. Still, it begged to be written even if Folami's efforts are going to be fruitless. And when she fails, she is going to be pretty much well over the deep-end and probably going into hiding to beat herself up thoroughly. And that's not considering who else might be watching. Also, memories trapped in soulstones idea shamelessy taken from Nagaina. (Yes, I'm well aware of how much it sucks.)
At Thalassian Pass she brought her mount to a halt, the dreadsteed vanishing into thin air before the warlock's feet touched the ground. A strong wind flowed through the gate making her cloak billow out behind her as she searched for a hiding place. She'd chosen this place not because she knew it would be significant to the others—she didn't—but because it seemed the most logical place for such a thing to go.
She stopped behind an overturned wagon, its wood warped and rotting. After brushing away some dead leaves and a build-up of dirt she reached into her pouch to find the soulstone she'd made on the journey to Lordaeron. She held the orb up, watching its surface become iridescent, the colors shifting and swirling. In her mind, images flared to life, replicas of her memories, the importance of which she hoped would be recognized by her friends and not by those who sought her.
"The lock is enchanted," she hears herself say to Zaruk as he tugs on the latch holding the leather-bound journal shut. "Should something happen to me, it will open."
The orc looks at her skeptically. "And you trust me with your secrets?"
"I trust you to have the wisdom to know who to share them with." Her fingers fidget with the strap of her travel pack slung over her shoulder. She glances anxiously behind her to see that Keldris and Skyspear are almost ready to depart for the search.
"I don't understand, but I will do all I can to honor your wishes." He stumbles backward in surprise as she wraps her arms around him in a sudden, fierce hug.
"Thank you," she whispers into his ear. She doesn't wait for his response, instead dashing off to her waiting gryphon. Lordaeron is a lengthy journey and she's never been one for long good-byes.
The colors moved again and Folami scarcely had the time to draw another breath before she was thrust into another vision.
The fire has burned itself down to a few smoldering embers, and though there's still heat to be felt, it doesn't register for her. She has tried--and failed--to sleep. Meditation has proven fruitless as her mind continues to revisit the vision of Twinyarrow being swallowed by those dark shadows.
"I was here," she murmurs quietly. "How did I not see it?" Over and over she examines the events and each and every time she comes to the same conclusion. She has failed utterly and completely. It was beyond naivety to believe there would not be an attack. If she had taken the time to look, she might have discovered the anomaly before Yarrow's arrival, or perhaps she might have sensed him and been able to prevent his abduction. But she didn't.
And Yarrow is paying the price for her foolishness.
"I'm sorry," she says to the empty air. "I'm sorry for my failures and for what I must do." She raises her hands and begins to gather energy to create a soulstone.
The lump in her throat refused to go away. She swallowed again and set the stone on the ground. With her fingers imbued with subtle fel energies, she passed her hand over the orb. The magic contained within the stone sang in response, calling out to her "other" senses and she felt its gentle tug. If anyone approached the area and probed magically, it would behave as a beacon.
She placed the stone on the ground almost reverently and then reached for a second one in her pouch. This one was different, duller than the first and she almost hesitated to test it, but she had to be sure. With her free hand she found her skinning knife and made a small knick in her palm under the stone. Blood welled to the surface and the stone reacted immediately, brightening to a purplish red until it matched the color of her blood.
Dalaran. His face above hers, his hair falling forward to frame his cheeks. For a moment his eyes brighten and time stands still before the moment of sweet surrender.
Northpass Tower. Good-byes are always hard and this one is no different. She holds onto him tightly as if afraid he'll disappear should she relax even for a second.
"I love you," she whispers into his ear. "I will come back to you." She forces herself to let go and stands back to see his face. "I will find you, always."
The words repeat as the vision fades.
"I will come back to you. Always."
Folami wiped a tear from her cheek. The second stone wouldn't react to any magic or energy save for his. Should the worst happen the memories locked inside it would forever be lost to time. Carefully, she laid the second stone next to the first and between them she placed a rabbit's foot, its mate still attached to her belt. Another message only he would understand. She pushed the leaves back over the stones and said a silent prayer to the forces that be in the hopes the stones would only be recovered by the people she wanted to see it.
***
She didn't stop again until she arrived at the gates of Deatholme. Wisps of ethereal smoke curled from the dreadsteed's snout as she released one of her eerie neighs. Behind them fel energy coalesced and formed into a large humanoid shape. In seconds Rinnzavin the felguard was there, his axe balanced over his shoulder.
"You are not bound to accompany me," Folami said.
"I know," the demon replied. He considered the guards standing watch on either side of the gate. "Left," he said.
With a slight grin, Folami nodded and urged her mount forward as Rinnzavin charged past them. "Not much longer, Shula, and our destiny shall be revealed." She dug her heels into the dreadsteed's sides and let loose a plume of fire at the guard on the right, the magic obliterating the creature at the same moment the other fell to Rinnzavin's axe.
Charging into the gate on a fiery steed with her cloak billowing behind her, she imagined she appeared as one of the monsters from her childhood nightmares. In any other context, it might have proven useful, but Deatholme itself was made of nightmares and neither the banshees nor the shambling skeletons showed any fear of the warlock and her demon. They began advancing as soon as the two cleared the gate.
Folami dismounted quickly, her skin crawling with fel magic and the air around her crackling with power. Fire rained from the sky at her call and over the wails of the banshees meeting their end at fire or axe, a roar rose up and echoed off the surrounding buildings.
"Kalvarin Eventide," said a demonic figure in the center of a charred circle that barely resembled Folami. Her wings stretched wide and she closed her eyes, reveling in the lingering echoes of anger, hatred, and fear that still permeated the air. "I've come to collect what's mine."
