#* in character: alleria windrunner / A SUN NO LONGER. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

warwaged-archive · 4 years

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Alleria had always been good at pushing aside unwanted feelings.

It wasn’t comfortable, no, but easy enough to do while moving forward towards she who had been her tormentor for so long. Leave her dead; leave her buried in rubble never to be found again. It is what she deserves. What leaves her lips is much more softspoken, heart poured out in spite of her hesitance to do so; there is no word against the Light Mother, no offered offense regardless of how many come to mind. No sense of retribution to see her shattered, no gloating, no satisfaction; but there is fear, and there is vulnerability, and there is the silent begging for him to see her reason, to see her side, to see her pain.

And what then? I was locked in a cell for delving into the Void against her wishes. Will she make me a prisoner again? Or worse?

He would have tried to soothe her at the very least, in the past. This time there is no offered comfort; there is nothing but nearly disinterested certainty that surely it shall be fine, surely Xe’Ra would see the reason, surely she would do Alleria no harm.

But she has already done. Alleria has the scars to prove it.

Hurt that hits her then is not of so visible sort; only in her heart, after all, and that she can hide easily enough. Not comfortable, but easy. She knew Turalyon trusted her; she knew the Army of the Light fought for the future the prime naaru had foreseen. They think it is the only way to save the universe from the Legion, of course bringing her back is important. Somewhere deep down, she can almost hear the echoes of disagreement.

(Weren’t you important for him? Didn’t he care? You gave your heart and body and soul in a way so complete and honest and whole, in a way you never had before; you gave yourself to the wrong person. He doesn’t care. You abandoned the Light, and he no longer cares. He cannot love someone who dwells in the Shadows. But he can love a being of Light even if it is a tyrant, even if it is a torturer.)

They are not loud enough she cannot silence them. The bleeding is not severe enough she cannot ignore it.

Alleria underestimates how hard it would be to see Xe’Ra again.

Indeed, apprehension gripped at her heart at the mere suggestion of restoring the Light Mother, but she had since steeled herself to the inevitability of it; or so she thought. The Windrunner had never been the submissive sort, never one to be forcibly controlled; one who valued her freedom too much to ever submit to chains, never had, not other than those that would lead her to Azeroth again. Alleria could have escaped, even if she could not have fought; could have returned to the Void, to her displeased teacher, could even have wandered the Twisting Nether again until she found path to Azeroth by herself — but the Xenedar was where she had to be, reliable path to the future she had seen that Light and Void were both blind to. The future where they won.

It wasn’t enough to make her fond of her cage, but it was enough to make it tolerable.

The bars were made of Light, as pure and bright as the Light that composed Xe’Ra herself. Alleria could not touch them, of course; a way to guarantee she could not reach beyond it, to make her as little threat as possible. More often than not, she had been left alone to reconsider her path and forsake the Shadows; not always. Sometimes the Light Mother would reach to her in sickeningly sweet tone, elated in listing all that she would lose forever were she to stay with the shadows, before offering her a path to the Light once more. Unbeknownst to Xe’Ra, perhaps, those were the days she got to Alleria the most, heart tight at the idea of losing her sisters, her homeland, her lover, her son. Yet it was for them, too, she chose the path she walked; and it was holding on to this knowledge that Alleria kept herself calm enough not to give away any reaction, nothing but constant denial.

Other times, it was Light forced on her physically, or the attempt to. She remembered thinking of Lothraxion, of Fel being cleansed by Light, of how much it must have hurt for the Nathrezim; she remembered thinking Xe’Ra underestimated the Shadows and Alleria’s own will both, if she believed to cleanse her as easily as Fel. The Void would not surrender one who had so willingly given herself to it; and whenever she was at her limit, Alleria saw Xe’Ra give up, made aware the mortal would break before bending, and knowing she needed her alive for the future she had seen to come into being.

Well, at least until she decided Alleria needed another push, a more direct interference from the Light to set her once more on the right path.

Seeing her may have brought memory of such instances to her mind, but it does not make Alleria fear. She finds it hard to fear, then, in spite of being haunted by it not long ago. Seeing Xe’Ra again makes her rage. A quiet, contained sort of rage, to be sure, but one that burns intensely, one that she had not felt so strongly in so many years. Had she the power to destroy the Prime Naaru, Xe’Ra would be in pieces again already. The thought comes with a certainty that does not let her deny its truth even to herself; Alleria doesn’t try to. She does not shun the anger, either; it is justified, and she has kept it long enough. Let it be felt. Let it bleed out if it must. There has been silence and submission for too long.

If anxiety or anger occupy her, neither finds reciprocation in the dreaded Light Mother. Xe’Ra does not care, she realizes; and there is no shock in this, not truly, not for her who knows the naaru to only have cared for her perfect vision of the future for years, but to see it extended to Turalyon as well is new and unexpected — as is his loyalty to her, so blatantly offered, so unblemished. He kneels as if faced by most sacred being, and it is the truth of it, Alleria realizes, the truth of it in his eyes at least. There is adoration in his gaze, devotion in his voice, relief to see Xe’Ra restored.

It is enough to subdue the flames of her resent, ice cold aching in her heart substituting it. It is neither comfortable nor easy, then, to push aside unwanted feelings. It is hard, and it hurts; oh, if baring her feelings to be met with disregard had been bruising as being punched in the gut, this hurts as being trespassed by blade instead. Part of her wants to cry out betrayal, that he would so devote himself to this thing who had tried to rob her of choice, who did rob her of freedom, who hurt her as it saw fit and branded her wrong for having a mind of her own. Part of her thinks the betrayer to have been herself, venturing in the Shadow out of own volition. It hurts all the same. Duty she could understand; this wasn’t it. This was care and concern Turalyon had not shown to her, even when he had last seen her behind bars made of pure Light; it was commitment he had not shown her when she spoke of her worry and hesitated to aid one who had only done her harm.

Keeping herself impassive is stilling breath with same focus she had been taught once, so many years ago, when learning to tread amidst Eversong trees quiet as a shadow. It is clenching teeth and digging her nails in the flesh of her palm so strongly it hurts, but it is a welcome hurt, grounding, simple enough to deal with. It is forcing herself not to feel, impossible as it is — making herself ignore it, as if that was someone else’s lover, someone she did not know.

Did she know him at all, as it was?

Alleria had always been good at pushing aside unwanted feelings, and she succeeds, even when it is arduous effort. All eyes remain on the naaru, on the demon hunter that steps up to speak to it; all eyes, even her own. She feels what will happen before she processes it; heartbeat racing and body taut as a bowstring ready to snap. True understanding only comes to her, clear as crystal, when Illidan refuses Xe’Ra. She knows, and how could she not? It is watching her tale reenacted with different characters. It is seeing yet another fall prey to a monster who cloaks herself in good intentions, who makes use of righteousness to blind others on her tyranny.

She isn’t sure she can stomach to see it, yet green eyes do not dare look away, barely even blink. It is only when Illidan forcefully frees himself of binding light that Alleria releases breath she hadn’t realize she had been holding, a quiet gasp made soundless by deafening noise; only then gaze is forcefully torn away, the coalescing forces much too blinding to withstand.

There is barely a moment of quiet, briefest second in which she can feel how deeply Illidan’s words resounds with her, how deeply she feels it, from life that was not Xe’Ra’s to take to destiny that is his own, just as hers was, is, will always be. The moment ends too soon. All too quickly, it is brought to an end by a different voice loudly asserting his rage over Illidan’s actions, more vicious and angry and passionate than she remembered seeing in a long time.

When had he last acted like that? The rage upon seeing Lothar fall, perhaps. Turalyon had never been prone to outbursts of anger, seldom allowing himself to act on rage or resent. Lothar… Lothar had been his mentor, closer than even just his commander. There was connection between them, it is secret to no one; a bond, truly. And if any had been deserving of it, Anduin Lothar most certainly had; yet even drawing out such comparison thinking similar feelings would be attached to Xe’Ra sickens her (breaks her heart).

Breaks her further. Both relief and cathartic sense of justice done, found in seeing one pushed into a situation so similar to what Alleria herself had lived through destroy her tormentor, fade all too soon; feelings she had not even had the time to fully feel, truly, barely acknowledged at all amidst surprise and shock and rush of each turn of events. It is too much, too sudden, and amidst the overwhelming sea of feelings she experiences, she does not even know what is it she feels.

And then and there, for the first time in so long she does not remember when it happened last, Alleria feels like falling apart.

She doesn’t. Many years of shutting feelings tight within, burying them within own chest until they cannot hurt (until they hurt all the same, just as deep, just as truly, but all of it is securely beneath the skin) do not fail her then. Alleria barely acknowledges what happens, if focus is entirely on the scene before her; the words are lost in the haze, but she can see Turalyon’s sword (Lothar’s), half metal and half Light, and although she cannot see the wound, she can see Fel blood dripping to the floor, clawed hand holding sword in place even as it carves his flesh. Something Illidan says must have gotten to him, for eventually Turalyon withdraws, and eventually the demon hunter is left to brood in a corner, and eventually the paladin returns to the bridge, perhaps unsure how to go on about his duties then.

They have not been able to touch for many years now, but it is the first time Alleria is glad of it.

Even standing close to him feels like too much; but the mask does not slip, and neither him nor Vereesa nor Arator, not a single person in the multitude of faces within the Vindicaar, seems concerned when she offers some poor excuse of something to do, steps taking her away (away, away, even if she does not know where), aimless until she finds what she was looking for without conscious thought: a distant corner, empty and lonely and dark. Like she is. Where she belongs.

No strength is enough to keep herself together then.

The tears are quiet, if only because she does not dare making noise and drawing attention to herself — it’s not what she wants. Alleria does not resent that none of them noticed her distress; she has never been comfortable with exposing such feelings to others (lie; she had been comfortable enough once, with him, and the thought only causes her to cry more). If the sounds do not escape her, body still shakes with the soundless sobs, heartfelt, hurting, broken.

Xe’Ra is dead! Xe’Ra is dead. Gone, truly and completely this time. Why is it not enough? Why does it still hurt, even when she knows she is glad the Light Mother will never harm her or anyone else in attempt to force her will on them? Why does it hurt, when loathed dreading she had felt upon realizing what Illidan was going to suffer had turned to overwhelming relief, honest joy even, to see such fate averted and Xe’Ra dealt with? Why does it hurt regardless?

(How long have you been silent? How much have you ignored, set aside, pretended not to see? And now that she’s dead, what? Now you pretend and ignore and set aside and stay silent forever, because Xe’Ra is dead and it doesn’t matter anymore.)

Whatever she had suffered, it does not matter; not anymore. Her pain does not matter; this is as much justice as she will ever receive.

Her pain does not matter. And thoughts return to Turalyon, then, Turalyon who had once gone through lengths she expected none to go in order to help her; to offer her a hand she refused time and again, to do whatever he needed do to allow her to heal. Turalyon who shrugged off her concerns in favor of believing in Xe’Ra’s goodwill. Turalyon who knelt in front of Xe’Ra, who offered her respect and adoration he had not spared his so called wife. Turalyon who so eagerly threw himself at Xe’Ra’s killer, in blind rage that was not stopped by the logical thought he could not defeat Illidan, not truly, not when his own power would not have been enough to defeat the Prime Naaru.

Alleria had never resented the lack of further action when she was imprisoned. Turalyon stood with her then, between herself and Xe’Ra even, when he pleaded for her life. It was all she could have asked for; neither of them could defeat her, much less the entire Army of the Light. Alleria never meant to make them enemies, either. It was her path home, to accept Xe’Ra’s sentence; it was how she would reach Azeroth again (how she would see Arator again) — and Turalyon had done what he could. Had done enough.

Had done so much as he was willing to do, she thought now. He could have acted then how he acted now, could have known it was an impossible victory but raised his sword all the same. His lack of action was not because he knew it would be futile; he hadn’t done more because he hadn’t cared enough to do it.

He surely seemed to have a tremendous amount of care for the thing that kept her captive, however.

Arms wrap around her knees, attempt to make herself quieter, to give herself comfort (no; to make herself smaller, perhaps, as if she continued to shrink in her shadowy corner, she might disappear completely). It wouldn’t matter, would it? Arator had an aunt who would always be better mother figure than she could hope to be. He and Vereesa and Sylvanas had all believed her gone for so long; they didn’t need her (Sylvanas is the name that gives her pause; she hadn’t had the chance to meet her, hadn’t seen her in so long… but perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps it would be easier if she had not met any of them at all. At the very least, Sylvanas could be spared the disappointment.)

The Locus-Walker had taught her the Void would play her feelings to their purpose, and it never fails to prove true; her shadow companions, voices without bodies, whisper to fan the flames of her resent, to deepen her sorrow, to offer her comfort. It is barely effective at all; she is drowning in feelings all her own, sinking each time she briefly thinks she might swim again.

There is but one certainty for her, then and there; she does belong to the shadows, in the shadows, irreversibly, irrevocably. It is in the silent darkness she finds as much solace as she could find anywhere; and the cold nothingness of the Void does not feel like such terrible option after all.

#* muse: alleria windrunner / VOID TOUCHED.#* in character: alleria windrunner / A SUN NO LONGER.#* character study: alleria windrunner / WILD AND WARM LIKE SUMMER.#* dynamics: alleria windrunner & turalyon / DEEP BLUE BUT YOU PAINTED ME GOLDEN.#xe'ra tag tbd.#I tag as if I'd ever bother giving her an actual tag lol #long post cw

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warwaged-archive · 4 years

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"Can you tell me what happened to my aunt. Nera doesn't want to know, and Bella doesn't care, but she's the only family we have left. Why did she leave? -- If you don't know, that's okay too. Our mother just never mentioned her so I guess I'm just curious and she spends a lot of time with you... -- Or at least, when we see her she's with you so I'm just assuming -- are you dating? No that's not the question that's important, the only thing is more important -- "

REQUESTED ASKS // always accepting ic asks.

Why did she leave?

It is the question that sticks with her, in spite of what follows. Alleria knows only too well what happened when Willa left; there are no clear memories of the events, though she knows them all by heart --- her choice spoken amidst the haze everything seemed to be since learning of family’s death, Willa’s departure amidst the muted yet positive reception of Sylvanas being named Ranger General instead.

The details are all there, more filled by her own mind than seen in truth. She had not seen Willa depart, had not seen her reaction at all; then and there, it had been reaffirming denial she had once spoken to her mother, making it concrete with choice she had long known would be best as well. The Ranger General had, then, always been a Windrunner; and it had been Lireesa’s will that it remain so. Her mother had meant for her to assume the mantle, but she could not; and then there was none to choose but her sister, best fit for the position than Alleria herself would ever have been.

It mattered little that she had come to regret that choice; it mattered even less that given chance, she would have accepted it if only it spared Sylvanas --- both of what she suffered and of what she had now become.

Alleria makes no judgment of Willa or Neleena for their choices; knows not what would be had she been in their place. True though it may be she too had left home and family, only learning of sister’s death when it was much too late, it was still not the same; never would be, for what there was between Willa and her sister or herself, Sylvanas and Vereesa, each of such bonds was unique --- then as well as now.

Knows not what she would have done, learning of nieces she never knew and who knew nothing of her, but imagines she too would keep her distance, if it had been her sister’s choice to erase her from their lives (thinks perhaps not, though, not if they sought her or needed her in any way).

What she does know is that it isn’t her story to tell, regardless of her part in it. There is more sympathy than ill will on Alleria’s stance (for the painful family history the young hunter seeks to learn; for her wish to know more of her aunt; for who she is and that in previous interaction Cinna Sunrunner had seen fit to return Thas’dorah to her of her own volition, and Alleria was more grateful for it than she would ever be capable to express in words); still, choice is nevertheless not hers, and it feels wrong to do anything but defer to Willa on it.

“I do not think it is my place to tell you of it.” Direct in denial, though reply lacks any edge that may have been offered was it meant to be sharp. “At most I can tell her that you asked and ask Willa to speak with you, but I cannot guarantee you she would.”

“Unfortunately, the least important question is the only one I can answer --- so if it matters at all, the answer to that is yes.”

#sunrunnerrs #* muse: alleria windrunner / VOID TOUCHED.#* in character: alleria windrunner / A SUN NO LONGER.#* verse 004: alleria windrunner / SHE WAS NOT THE SAME WHEN SHE RETURNED‚ NOTHING WAS THE SAME AS WHEN SHE LEFT.#this just in: cinna gave her thasdorah back and alleria is eternally grateful #kasjnfkajsndkjf #not but for real she kinda likes cinna #* general: answered / DARK WINGS DARK WORDS.

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warwaged-archive · 4 years

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@sunrunnerrs asked: ‘ i may not believe in fate , but i believe in you ’

THE PRINCESS SAVES HERSELF IN THIS ONE // accepting.

"Well, it isn’t believing in fate what is required. Not when it comes to this, at any rate.” For the future was ever-shifting, and she did not claim to know it; only glimpses of a thousand different possibilities, all possible and impossible in a thousand more different ways. The Light may fashion itself immutable, but the Void did not; some of its beings may have unfaltering certainty in some truths coming to pass, but even they would not know for certain. There was no such thing as settled fate, not for Alleria; that Willa did not believe it would if anything be quite aligned with her own stance.

“I’m not saying these things will come to pass -- only that amidst a sea of possibilities they stood out as recurrent, and thus, it would do well to prepare for it.”

#* muse: alleria windrunner / VOID TOUCHED.#* in character: alleria windrunner / A SUN NO LONGER.#* verse 004: alleria windrunner / SHE WAS NOT THE SAME WHEN SHE RETURNED‚ NOTHING WAS THE SAME AS WHEN SHE LEFT.#sunrunnerrs

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warwaged-archive · 4 years

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anonymous said: Congratulations Alleria you were reunited with your son and immediately left him to go rescue Xe'ra.

#alleria doesn't care enough to explain to someone she isn't close with something that's a personal matter sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#* muse: alleria windrunner / VOID TOUCHED.#* in character: alleria windrunner / A SUN NO LONGER.#* general: answered / DARK WINGS DARK WORDS.

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warwaged-archive · 4 years

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Your failures are just what happened - they don't have to be who you are (Turalyon to Alleria)

THE PRINCESS SAVES HERSELF IN THIS ONE // accepting.

She hated this place.

A befitting home for a race of monsters, wasteland that it was; Alleria had never been to a world other than Azeroth before Draenor, it was true, yet the aversion felt when first stepping through the Dark Portal had been less rejecting the foreign than deeply felt absence of life. Perhaps not all elves could be said to have such deep bond with nature, but it was something shared by rangers --- more than the knowledge of land and wild, it was being attuned to it, a connection not so obvious as that between those who practiced magic derived of nature, difficult to explain, but keenly felt nevertheless.

Draenor was foreign, yes, yet what had initially struck her had been that it was dying. And soon, all sorrow she had felt for this immediate understanding had morphed into rage, her constant state of being for so long she had nearly forgotten all the rest. It was unnatural destruction, brought by the very beings that called this place home; and she hated them. Hated them with such fiery passion that no inkling of pity found place within her heart, well deserved fate that it was for the vermin that having consumed their own world, now attempted to take hers.

Such anger hadn’t left her, not entirely; not even now. Alleria was uncertain it ever would. It had been the first time it had faltered, however, when her demand not to be left behind became a drowning in tears and sorrow she had held back for so long; and now that it had faltered at all, she found hard to latch onto it as before, even when she could yet find it within her chest.

It was easy to set the fire once more. Loathing Draenor and its repugnant orcs was simple enough. She still reveled in the rage that returned to her with mere thought in so much intensity it may not have ever left at all, instead some dormant thing asleep within her chest, ready to spring to life once more with merely little nudge. Keeping the fire alive and allowing it to spread, however, had become arduous job; what had once been as easy as breathing now demanded tremendous effort. The anger in itself had become unsustainable; she could not brandish as sword and shield to keep away any who dared try getting close. Her defenses had crumbled, and she knew not how to entrench herself in her rage and sorrow once again.

And perhaps she should not want to at all, yet even that seemed to her easier than this. Just as she knew not how to hold on to the hatred anymore, neither did she know how to let herself be vulnerable like this. It was supposed to be sincere conversation, heart laid bare; Alleria knew not how to not wince in front of it. That he would offer her seemingly endless patience, even at his most stern, did not help; he offered her solace without knowing depth of her mistakes. He spoke of failure unaware of just how much she had failed.

Would it still be offered, were he to know? Would the gentleness with which he had held her as she came undone in her grief and anger still remain, were he to learn all of it? Witnessing her cruelest had not been enough to push him away; that cruelty, however, had never been directed at him, not at its worst. Not in ways he knew of, until now.

He says her failures need not be who she is, yet they already are. What had she done that had not been failure? When had she last acted in something that wasn’t miserable mistake? She remembered the flames consuming Eversong; her failure at defending. She remembered mother and father and Lirath; her failure to protect. She remembered Sylvanas and Vereesa, who she had failed as eldest sister, and Arator, her failure as a mother. Arator. Her failure at Turalyon, too. So relentless in standing by her, he, so earnest in his belief she was better than she truly was.

Yet she had failed all those closest and dearest to her, and he was no exception.

Recoils, then, unable to bear closeness at all, yet there is no escaping herself, no matter how she wishes it, and there’s no escaping him, either, now that anger has already faltered, now that he has seen her, all shattered glass, sharp and fragile and broken. “Yet they are.” Anger that laces matter-of-factly reply it is not at all to him; to herself, only, for then and there she is the only thing her hatred is unwavering towards. “This... this version of me you see, it’s wrong. This is what I am. I keep failing in what matters most. I keep hurting those who matter most.”

Mistake after mistake after mistake, until they were all that made her.

#you can't tell me when alleria indeed did begin letting go of her anger and hatred and started working on dealing with the grief and sorrow #there wasn't overwhelming hatred at herself #it's just not realistic #knasdkjfnasdkjfn #beyond the dark portal: and then they talked and everything was fine and she was fine and they were in love #me: how about no #how about it started with honest conversation yes #and maybe the process was a bit hastened bc they were on a mission they were unlikely to survive #but it was lengthy and complicated and alleria would still be dealing with her grief and anger and guilt way after that first initial conve #so there's no way there wouldn't be some self hatred there specially given she was suicidal at this point #anyways #thanks anon you get a big long reply because I never get to write alleria at this point in the timeline so aksnfkjsndfksdnf #Anonymous #* general: answered / DARK WINGS DARK WORDS.#* muse: alleria windrunner / VOID TOUCHED.#* in character: alleria windrunner / A SUN NO LONGER.#* verse 002: alleria windrunner / IT WAS THE PURSUIT OF VENGEANCE THAT LED HER TO VENTURE BEYOND THE DARK PORTAL.#the poem this quote is from #is a whole mood for her at this point tbh #letting go of failures and mistakes bc the best you can do is move on and life is worth living

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warwaged-archive · 4 years

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@terraforged said: ❛ suddenly, i’ve an immense desire to drink. ❜

( * the witcher 3 prompts !

Attention lingers elsewhere only a moment longer after Wrathion speaks so, some dutiful part of her nagging at her for unwillingness to be a part of this, meeting suddenly turned to petty disagreements that lead no one nowhere --- much less towards fruitful discussion of matters more important than that with which others now pestered the young king with.

Alleria can feel the headache coming. Arms uncross so a hand is pressed against her temple; everything a debate, time wasted on endless arguing over simplest points --- the voices in her head are seldom as troublesome as Stormwind’s court, she would think. This is pointless. Ah, but then again she had never been quite fond of politics of any sort. Once, so long ago it felt now like a different life, it weighted on her decision to remain soldier instead of rising to General; now, she could scarcely do such a choice again, entire faction of followers and named advisor to Anduin Wrynn.

But Anduin needs not her advice on this moment, for matters she is less than invested in, and she certainly understands feelings Wrathion voices apparently to no one. Annoyance isn’t yet quite enough for her to simply leave, perhaps, but she tires of it almost immediately, and it is enough that she is no longer bothered to know what exactly are the others squabbling over. “You are most definitely not alone on that.”

#flower you get a meh meme reply but hi Ily #* muse: alleria windrunner / VOID TOUCHED.#* in character: alleria windrunner / A SUN NO LONGER.#* general: answered / DARK WINGS DARK WORDS.

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diguerra-moved · 4 years

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(To Alleria) "Do you fear there may be more to the Old Gods than just their physical aspect on this plane?"

SEND ME IC ASKS.

“What I fear is what will come once they are defeated.” Crossed arms and matter-of-factly tone do not betray depths of such worry, in spite of her words. The Old Gods were but one manifestation of the Void, and not it’s strongest forces; powerful manifestations of it, certainly, but still not the most dangerous. There would yet be many worse threats to face, a fact she knew too well (fact that led her to path she now walked, that she could not regret for this very reason, even if the cost had been and still was much too high). Coveted as Azeroth’s world soul was, those above the Old Gods in hierarchy would not give it up so easily; and if all the Old Gods failed their intended mission, which was less than certain to have happened, they ought to prepare for even worse to be sent their way. “They are not worse of threats born of the Void that we will have to face.”

“Still, I do doubt defeating a physical manifestation of them is enough to defeat them completely.” Corruption seldom ran at surface level, and they had been ingrained in the very formation of the world, after all. Defeating N’Zoth in his own realm ought to be enough to defeat him in truth, at least in this world; yet even now she couldn’t help apprehension felt, wondering if that hadn’t been too easy. She had seen it, after all, how his influence spread, tendrils of shadow pushing pieces so masterfully across the board; to see him fall so soon afterwards… it did not feel a victory as earned as it ought to be. “The Void is ingrained in the very fabric of reality, much like the Light. The Old Gods are some of the closest to pure Void that can exist in this plane. I find it difficult to believe they can be killed — not in the conventional sense, at any rate.”

“It does not make the victories had over them any less worthy, however.” Addition comes as attempt to lighten conversation; if her reply had been honest, Alleria had no wish to cause panic. “Time and again their efforts to corrupt our world have been thwarted, and even if they yet exist in some other plane, those have been important victories all the same. Whatever comes, we will be able to defeat it.”

#ingenixre #* muse: alleria windrunner / VOID TOUCHED.#* in character: alleria windrunner / A SUN NO LONGER.#* verse 004: alleria windrunner / SHE WAS NOT THE SAME WHEN SHE RETURNED; NOTHING WAS THE SAME AS WHEN SHE LEFT.

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warwaged-archive · 4 years

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At least I've got you to take care of me - Rellinth (psst, I'm alive :P)

my new favorite meme // accepting.

“You shouldn’t rely on that too much.” Spoken lightly, even if she is uncertain it is not the truth of it. Alleria has had a bow in hand since she was old enough to shoot it, and she did it well; had trained close combat also, as all rangers did. Ask her to hit a target, it would not even be a challenge. As her to track someone or something, and she was certain not to return empty-handed. Her hands were used to weapons, trained to kill — certainly not to mend or soothe. Surely enough, she knew the basics, enough to take care of herself or, as was the case, of someone else so long as the damage wasn’t severe, and even then surely in less effective manner than those that wielded the Light. “It’s definitely not my area of expertise.”

Good enough, though, for the time being. He is not severely hurt, and she is thankful for that; if she was not good enough a person to feel compassion for anyone who found themselves severely hurt, Alleria most certainly feels it doubly for those she cares about.

“But I try.” And that she feels utterly not suited to do it well does not mean she does succeed. Hands properly cleaned, there was only a second of hesitation before did act, seemingly gone by the time hands pressed the clean cloth against the wound, gentle yet firm in attempt to make the bleeding stop. Soon enough it does; were it deep or in any way severe enough that it wouldn’t, Alleria would have insisted on having someone else take care of him instead. As was, she then proceeded to clean and bandage it, silent as she did it, quiet even as she went on to clean smaller bruises. When roles were reversed, he made it seem so easy; effortless, in a way healing never was.

Not to her, at any rate.

Once it is done and her hands clean, she grasps his, fingers loosely interlaced. “You should get some rest. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

#raerns #* muse: alleria windrunner / VOID TOUCHED.#* in character: alleria windrunner / A SUN NO LONGER.#* general: answered / DARK WINGS DARK WORDS.

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warwaged-archive · 4 years

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"at least i've got you here to take care of me, right? "

MY NEW FAVORITE MEME // accepting.

“That is not as comforting as you think.” Oh, she would undoubtedly do everything within her power and more so long as he needed (or merely asked). And yet, her powers were far from limitless, something that was particularly true when it came to him; the void could be used to mend, much like it could be wielded as a weapon, and when it came to Light wielders, it was much more effective to harm than to heal.

They stand in opposite sides. That this seems to be more universal truth than something that applies to Arator alone hurts as much as the thought of it applying to him.

The tools she uses, in this case, are much more rudimentary than magic of any sort; safest, if not as effective or immediate. Rangers were not healers, far from it; but when one learned the ways of the forest, one learned to survive with what they had, as well. If it was not true for every ranger, her General had been as strict a leader as she had been a mother, and Lireesa more than ensured Alleria had enough knowledge of basics well beyond shooting a bow or tracking prey.

“Hold still. This will hurt.” Maybe only a little, in comparison to worse wounds; but she warns nevertheless, in motherly tone that had always been reserved to her only child. Needle and thread are what she can use to close the gash now that it is clean, and ensure it will heal proper even if it takes a longer while. Alleria tries to make quick work of it, as to be as painless as possible; it isn’t possible, she knows, yet as necessary as it is, she tries not to cause her son more pain than necessary while doing it with care to ensure it is done properly. Soon enough it is finished, and though it will be some time before it looks good, it is already better than the open wound it had been before.

It is the worst of his injuries, although not the only one; once it’s taken care of, she proceeds to clean the small cut on his brow. “Plate armor does not make you invulnerable, you know? You still have to be careful, Arator.” There is no word about the Light, cross her mind as it does; Alleria had long since stopped depending on it, and she would never again be comfortable with trusting one’s safety in it, but she knew her family’s feelings not to mirror her own. He shouldn’t trust on it too much — shouldn’t trust in her to take care of him either, not as much as he did (not when she had already failed him so much). The voice that whispers to her she is undeserving of it has naught to do with the Void, this time; it is all her own, the feeling she doesn’t deserve his trust, that she will disappoint him, that she will hurt him again. Her son deserved better. He always had. Alleria does not give voice to it; instead, what follows is scolding that is in fact much too softspoken to be scolding indeed. “I’ll always take care of you, but that doesn’t mean you can be careless.”

#redeeming-sun #* muse: alleria windrunner / VOID TOUCHED.#* in character: alleria windrunner / A SUN NO LONGER.#* verse 004: alleria windrunner / SHE WAS NOT THE SAME WHEN SHE RETURNED‚ NOTHING WAS THE SAME AS WHEN SHE LEFT.#I don't know why he can't heal himself but shhh #arator: you'll take care of me c:#alleria: *kinda panicking that he trusts her this much*#kasjndfkjdsnfksd #* general: answered / DARK WINGS DARK WORDS.

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diguerra-moved · 4 years

Text

cont.

@redeeming-sun // arator.

“It is not fine.” Golden eyes narrowed at Alleria. Arator was upset his mother was so exhausted as to be rendered incapable of standing on her own but more upset at his own inability to do anything about it. The Light, normally a powerful weapon readily at his fingertips, was useless for him right now. It felt like a sick joke that he could not heal his own mother of all people.

“Sit down.” Arator commanded, his voice stern but caring and very reminiscent of Turalyon in his youth. If she tried to fight him on this, Alleria would find a hand on her shoulder attempting to keep her sitting down. “You need to rest.”

His mother was strong, she has always been strong, so what was happening that had left her unable to stand on her own two feet?

“Mom…” Any trace of rigidity in his voice vanished, leaving her with nothing but his golden voice and a few notes of concern. “Has this happened before?” If she continued to cause him to worry then it was highly probable that Alleria was going to find herself hugged.

Change in tone causes her to look up, less so due to command in his voice than it is because of what it is reminiscent of (he had sounded so alike Turalyon... not Turalyon now, perhaps, but Turalyon when he was young still, when he wielded in his voice that singular combination of care and sternness, concern and command, that he so often had to direct towards her when she had grown too reckless --- too willing to put herself in harms way).

In truth, even that was not simplest of tasks it ought to have been. Battle against the Void was endless, impossible to be won once and for all; nevertheless, she had held control easily enough for so long that change in pattern was particular heavy blow, difficult to bear. Time and again, Alleria had held her ground against the harassing Void with enough easy none even suspected how strong the assaults had been growing, how much effort she needed make to keep it in check.

Alleria had not expected exhaustion that had come with being so close to Turalyon again; thought she ought to have had, truly, when the Void had always been so loud in regards to wanting him dead. Living in the same house as a family, the three of them, few moments had been of true peace (how could they be, when her mind was constantly tormented by the Void? how could she ever have peace, when it demanded her to spill her lover’s blood?). The longer it went the worse it got; and though it was not the first time she felt extremely drained due to it, it most certainly had been the worst happening yet.

( How can you expect to embrace the Shadow with the Light shining so brightly at your side?, the Locus-Walker had inquired and she had dismissed it as usual disdain towards mortal affairs; perhaps her teacher had more reason than she had acknowledged, adamant in denial as she had been. )

"I told you, it is fine.” Dismissed concerns, though there was little reason to insist in doing so; Arator would not be fooled, not in truth, and there was nothing fine when mind was so exhausted and voices persisted with particular relentlessness, eager to profit of her momentary weakening. Tries to stand before barely catching her breath, only to be kept in place by his hand; a light huff of annoyance escapes her, as if she truly were in condition to complain (yet stubbornness, her son ought to know, was a family trait). “Don’t worry about me, Arator.”

“I’ve had worse.” It was no lie, if she still sought to claim being in better state than she was in truth (could she even stand, truthfully, had she actually tried?). “And it is not a common occurrence, I promise you.”

Not yet, in the least. It would not grow to be, Alleria assured herself; she would not let it overwhelm her so once again.

#redeemingsun #* threads: redeemingsun / 002.#* muse: alleria windrunner / VOID TOUCHED.#* in character: alleria windrunner / A SUN NO LONGER.#* verse 004: alleria windrunner / SHE WAS NOT THE SAME WHEN SHE RETURNED; NOTHING WAS THE SAME AS WHEN SHE LEFT.

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