Precious and Fragile Things

Title: Mourn
Fandom; Pairings: World of Warcraft; Savitry/Andor Duskmoon (OFC/OMC)
Prompt: #278 - Rapid Eye Movement
Warnings: Angst, allusions to sex, more angst, and did I mention angst?
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 969
Summary: Savitry confronts the uncomfortable truths of existence among the living.
Notes: I'm back after far, far too long. Life reared its ugly head and my muses have been difficult to rein in. I hope I'm getting my groove back now.

For the living, the word dream was synonymous with hope. Hope for the future, for love, for peace. The dead can only remember what it was to live, to have a heart beating in their chests, to feel the sun warm their skin. The dead did not dream, they mourned. In sleep, the remains of their lives were thrown in stark relief against the reality of an existence among the still living. Perhaps this, Savitry thought, was why so many of her un-dead brethren chose to forgo sleep. That it wasn’t an act vital to their continued survival was a convenient, polite excuse to quell the unease of the living around them. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t wholly true either.

Our acceptance among them is already imperiled by the very nature of our creation. We are evil, unnatural things to them, and perhaps they are right in that. Only our curious sense of self-preservation keeps us from admitting the truth: We resent the living.

( The speech replayed in her mind as it had a thousand times since her hard won freedom from Arthas. )

Title: Reunion
Fandom; Pairings: World of Warcraft; OCs (duh), mention of one NPC (Torian)
Prompt: #250 - Starry Night
Warnings: Parental angst.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,810
Summary: After receiving a strongly worded invitation, Folami returns to Sunstrider Isle to visit her father after a two-year separation. She learns that not only has a lot changed in her absence, her father is also aware of her current activities.
Notes: This is my first prompt in many months. I hope I'll be able to resume doing the weekly prompts now that my life seems to be settling down and my muses have returned.

Orgrimmar stank, literally and figuratively. The hot desert sun combined with a population for whom baths were few and far between made for a particularly nauseating bouquet of odors, especially to the delicate senses of a blood elf. Robes became implements of torture in the suffocating heat, making even the thinnest of fabrics seem like the wearer’s own personal oven. Then there was the orc soldiers’ unique way of creating camaraderie among those who swore allegiance with the Horde by making teasing remarks to those they deemed as being from weaker races.

( Yet Folami was feeling almost wistful for the great Horde city as she walked the familiar pathways leading to her childhood home in Sunstrider Isle. )