#* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED.

[diguerra-moved]

I like the rejection of the gift cinematic very much so I was watching it again and I have thoughts

1. Illidan is not thrilled from the start but each moment he speaks with Xe’Ra you can see how much angrier he gets. He tries to hold back from it, and when he states the Legion’s end is all he seeks he even manages to tone down the anger a bit, but immediately afterwards she demeans his goal and he’s furious again. After that it only gets progressively worse. He steps back, and when he speaks again, it’s clear her promises of exchanging freedom for power hit too close.

2. there is like one second after this before Xe’Ra outright attacks him that shows Alleria and Velen and I might be looking too much into it because it’s 1 second, but there’s tiny tiny reactions there when she starts speaking of prophecy. Velen narrows his eyes (probably because he has no idea where this is going), but Alleria’s widen a bit --- too little for it to be shock or surprise, but the way I see it, enough to be because she understood where this was going. Illidan was refusing Xe’Ra, but Xe’Ra wouldn’t kill her precious chosen one; this doesn’t mean she won’t try to impose the Light on him, and Alleria of all people would know that.

3. Turalyon’s eye color change will probably end up being the “Xe’Ra was literally blinding/enthralling him” and that sucks because I doubt everything surrounding it will be developed beyond that tbh and it’d be really nice to see actual explicit development concerning Turalyon going back to not being a zealot

4. Illidan fallen to the ground after destroying the prime naaru but still stopping Turalyon’s sword with a single hand? I stan a legend

5. Also he’s bleeding because he’s literally holding a sword and I learned he actually bleeds fel

6. Alleria’s commentary after that being “That was... unexpected. To think he had enough power to destroy her...” is on point because of course no one expected that turn of events but lol she won’t be mourning Xe’Ra, it is that Illidan had the power to do it that really shocks her (because honestly that he’d try is not unexpected and she can relate)

7. there’s just so much going on for Alleria and Illidan both and it’s certainly something that would have taken a while for both of them to process

#random thoughts bc yis #* muse: alleria windrunner / VOID TOUCHED. #* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED. #* out of character: the mun / JUST YOUR LOCAL ANXIOUS NERD.

[ahvie-voidsinger]

Pioneering Twilight

Ahvie stared at the crumpled letter in her leatherclad hand for a long while, so long in fact that she hadn't quite remembered where she was. She hadn't opened it at all, and its seal of familiar and foreboding noble houses might as well have been a poisonous snake for all the regard she gave for it.

The void elf sighed and tossed the letter onto her small desk in what passed for an equally small office in the Stormwind Keep. Her introduction to Vyk was both unexpected and unsettling, two emotions she was not keen on feeling so soon after something or someone tore a hole in the sky above Icecrown. She shivered despite herself, and her cloak moved of its own accord to wrap and hug around her as though to reassure her in a snug embrace. Ahvie barely noticed, even if she was vaguely aware of how good it felt.

Many years ago, what was probably decades now that she thought of it, a rogue illidari named Illidan Stormrage had stormed Icecrown Citadel with the Eye of Sargeras with the very intention of doing just that -- tearing a hole in the sky at the top of the world. And although the collateral would have been beyond what she or many others would have been agreeable with, Illidan's charisma and mere name attracted loyalists and followers from both factions and every race on Azeroth. The night elf was aiming to land a pre-emptive killing blow on the Lich King before he could attract Arthas to his throne.

"Except the one tearing the whole in the sky is reviled by nearly every mortal on Azeroth, and the ones gathering from all corners of the world are those deigning to put a stop to the madness and destruction left in its wake," she spoke aloud to herself.

A throaty, feminine voice whispered huskily on the shadows around Ahvie, amused but also soothing.  Perse, her intelligent voidcloak, had decided to reply as though the void elf had been speaking to her in the first place:  "Why does it bother you so, sister? The mission of the organization implies it wishes to do what you tried to do with your fledging pirates and deserters. And it has considerably more influence and resources. Is this what you dreamed of?"

Ahvie didn't even give a start at the other's voice, for the voidfiend siren trapped in her ragged traveling cloak had long since been bonded to her ren'dorei mind, both altered forever by the explosion resulting from tampering with her void blade ... and by the partial influence of ethereals that Akako had narrowly saved her from. She shook her head, disbelieving, and turned to take a few steps back toward the doorway. Looking down it, her glacial blue eyes welled up with nostalgia and loss. It was what she dreamed of, but so was this.

Hundreds of officers, soldiers, agents and diplomats all rushed hurriedly from one place to another within the bustling hive of what now was the expanded Command Center of Stormwind Keep. Deep within the bowels of the fortress, the network of tunnels and carpeting would have been indistinguishable from the royal chambers normally open to the public. Except Anduin wouldn't be accepting visitors today. He was scrambling, as her SI:7 superiors were, to mobilize forces and resources for the unknown in Icecrown.

Ahvie leaned against the doorframe with one arm lounging up toward the stone ceiling. She used to tell herself and others that she didn't like cities, but that had been a lie. She found that during her time working for the Alliance like she once used to, that she delighted in patrolling Stormwind, watching and mingling with its chaotic and diverse population. Very rarely did she have to mind the occasional void elf getting too buddy-buddy with the forces of the Old Gods. Once, that thought and nostalgia would have made her shiver or wince in shame. She was a low-level agent with a wide passport reach to the far corners of the Alliance and influence enough to get access to all but the SI:7 archives.

Her leveraging of her pirate-turned-privateer crew had been invaluable during the Third War for extending SI:7's reach to corners of Zuldazar and beyond that would have otherwise attracted unwanted attention. Her old trade network was hungry for leadership and business, and she tapped that as well. But while she also was tasked with keeping a close watch on unruly ren'dorei who dabbled with the Old Gods, precious few of her associates and friends knew how dangerously she skirted those precepts as well.

Perse claimed to be a handmaiden of Xal'atath, some Old Goddess shunned and betrayed by the Not-Pantheon before the fall of the Black Empire. And despite granting the melded duo unspeakable powers over shadows and stealth, Perse was infuriatingly cryptic when it came to detailing what it was her goals were. A self-proclaimed patron of free will and independence. Indeed! What rubbish. From the onset of the burning of Lor'danel and Teldrassil, to this crossroads that loomed up before her far before she expected it to, she knew in her corrupted heart that there really was no choice at all.

"Ah, there you are, Agent Brightsinger,"  came a clipping accent from further up the hall.

"Gerry,"  she mused before she even turned to face her companion in the service.

The human was tall, well-built, muscled and mustachioed, but had wild, sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through all her facades of being a childish delinquent playing dress-up. He drew himself up before her, staring down at her with a hint of contempt. Expectant. She sighed.

"Sergeant Gerry," she added, souring her lips with the need to add title after his promotion. He probably had been secretly looking forward to making her jump at the word. Well she wouldn't let him.

"Shaw, Huwe and M all received your reports on Blackwood and the Fleet, and you are wanted in the Crow's Nest for debriefing."  His lip stiffened as his eyes narrowed down at her. She would not let her friend lord his rank over her, worgen or not! Albert had twice the bark of this stuffed shirt, and Alice four times over.

But the void elf cringed openly and tugged at her cloak, pulling it away from her body as though stuck to her curved catsuit like a static towel fresh from the dryers. All three bigwigs, bringing her in for questioning after she thought she had them duped.

Shows what I know, she thought, those old-timers saw far more than they let on. Just like that smug illusionist Vyk. How did he have access to her file? And why did he use names of an Alterac noble house long dead? Was he trying to give himself away as a... a... just to unsettle her?

Gerry took her lack of response for perhaps insubordination, and his voice took on a harder edge.   "Now, Brightsinger."

She sharply glared up at him, squinting with the strongest look of petulance she could manage. They were friends once, before the war. Now he had licked M's thighboots until his mouth practically belonged to the wisened warden, and was repaid with a promotion rivalling her one-time status as a freelancer. 

"Fine."

A slight tilt of his head, and his eyes twitched.  "Fine...?"

She grit her teeth at him and brushed past him, huffing angrily.  "Fine, sir."

Ignoring his shout of protest at leaving before she was dismissed, or without a salute, she stormed off with a glower in her face and stride. Many aides and soliders were shocked to see her out of uniform, but as soon as many recognized her, their eyes narrowed in turn and she was smugly satisfied to see the disdain on their faces. Oh yes, she was a rebel who didn't conform to their rules, even from the start. The women's uniform showed off waaaay too much cleavage anyway. Screw those apples, she wasn't about to wear a second set of clothing when her leather catsuit was, in actuality, as much a part of her skin as her cloak was now. Not that any of them needed to know that. At a distance, most agents and officers steered clear of her as her direction made apparent her destination -- the Boss' office.

Eventually she came to an archway of dark wooden double-doors, with the bald egghead himself standing guard with arms clased behind him in what passed for at ease these days. His hard face didn't match his disarmingly softened eyes sharp as a cold morning dew. Huwe, her immediate commanding officer, watched Ahvie approach the moment she turned the corner. If he felt anything remotely fond or smug at her arrival, nothing in his neutral expression conveyed it. For some reason, she found herself stopping a few paces short of him towering stature before saluting as crisply as she found herself giving Magdella or Morgirt.

Instead of appeared pleased or even a smidgeon satisfied, the hairless head nodded without even a hint of approval, and pushed open the door that led to the beating heart of the command center. Gesturing with the same arm, Huwe nodded ever so slightly in the direction, for her to enter first. Unable to repress her grimace, she ducked her head slightly as she passed by his discerning eye, her ears twitching from nervousness.

As she stepped into the room and onto a plush sapphire rug inlaid with gold and silver embroideries, Ahvie heard in her mind's eye what she suspected -- Perse was telling her that although she couldn't hear with her ears that Huwe had moved, he was stepping right behind her and closing the door in their wake, cutting off her exit. The void elf kept her eyes forward, scanning the room well-lit by an array of electric lights and candelabras lining the walls. Bookshelves and tables neatly framed the depression in the floor, a sort of atrium or anti-dais.

And sitting with thighs crossed on the edge of the wide squarish table in the atrium was a night elf woman of lean muscled features, mature but handsome beauty and an otherwise fetching face marred by scars, greying hair and a sneering grin. Gone were any pretense of hiding each others' identities. Ahvie had just about confirmed it herself when she cross-referenced M's absences and attendances with the sporadic and nearly untraceable appearances of the senior warden. She didn't actually think that M would stand for the veteran's name.

Beside the legendary jailer was her trademarked helmet worn but unbroken, and the woman's curvaceous but equally deadly bladed armor clung to the kaldorei's body as perfectly as Ahvie's shadowsuit did. Had the pirate captain not just reunited with her waifu a week ago, she might have been more loose with her eyes. She always wanted to know what it was like to wear the warden armor suits, perfectly tailored plate as they were.

Standing erect and rigid next to M was the mustachioed grandmaster himself, apparently back from his leave in Boralus. Ahvie could appreciate a man who looked for some quality time with the same gender, even if he didn't speak of it. It was not even an open secret, perhaps the best way to protect high-profile scoundrels in peacetime. Not that Shaw couldn't take care of himself, Ahvie reminded herself quietly. The man was lenient with agents who proved themselves resourceful, whatever their shortcomings. Whether this meeting was going to go the way she intended, even his thoughtful expression didn't assuage her.

Ahvie took a step down into the lowered dais and saluted as respectfully as she dared, hoping her rigidity wouldn't come off as mockery -- she rarely showed this level of deference and obedience to the others. The reports coming back from her officers in The Seventy-Third likely reflected much the same: a grudging, if not forgetful, regard for rank and what it stood for. She grinned inwardly for only a moment to remember the no small number of turnover casualties from which insubordination bore fruit within the battalion. M's devilish, condescending grin deepened as though the accursed woman could read Ahvie's mind.

Both thought and visualization made Ahvie shiver visibly, which seemed to be the right thing to let slip. Shaw quirked an eyebrow at the void elf's restraint and salute, but said nothing. A long silence drew out further when Huwe came to stand atop the step behind her, further emphasizing to her displeasure how unfairly tall he was.

"Two years. Twenty blockades ran, twelve pirate raids thwarted, two N'Zothian cults ratted out, one prisoner exchange," M began, eyeing Ahvie with a smile that was not so much mocking or appraising as hungry.  "Forty-eight field reports, two citizens' arrests, one assassination and an unconfirmed but -- if Huwe's suspicions are confirmed -- alleged fifty-one abominations slain. And yet you still find time to sneak off without telling us where you've gone to, Brightsinger."

Ahvie was too close to the woman and the others to avoid giving away even the slightest bit of her emotions or reactions. If she shifted her eyes, let her blush show, allowed her ears to twitch or shuffled her feet, would that convey unease in a confessional or defiant way? Ahvie focused for one of the few times in her life to keep her mind as straight as her eyes, instead locking onto the fascinating way M's bladed cloak wrapped around the formfitting plate. Looking The Boss in the eyes at least couldn't push her either way, right?

M chuckled darkly in response to Ahvie's attempt at self-control, and continued. Ahvie really wanted to know if the other men in the room were impressed with her work for the crown.  "We know through your interactions with Agent Gerry and Agent Narcoss that you've spent at least three of the past six months drawing the attention of June Blackwood. Why is that?"

Ahvie managed to grimace for only a split-second, for she was cringing all throughout her darkened blood. That's what she got for worrying her friends with the truth.  The ren'dorei cleared her throat and spoke firmly, not quite hoarsely while not meeting the night elf's piercing golden eyes.  "Beg pardon, Mum, I apologize. Before I had known it, June Blackwood had already ambushed me in Vol'dun not more than five months ago. I treated the battle as a chance to test her capabilities without revealing too many of my own. Seeming to wound her and her pride enough to drive her off the field was little comfort, Mum. Now that she had my scent and, presumably, a hatred of seeing my survival as an affront to her mission, I..."

M cut in dryly, interrupting her as smoothly as though the two had rehearsed it.  "Decided that you would protect those you loved and worked with by distancing yourself from them. Us included. Oh, we know, little shadow. The reports of your handiwork kept making their way to us, albeit not on time, during your absence. Had the Seventy-Third's officers not vouched for you during your disappearance, you would have been hunted down as surely as Illidan had once upon a time. We have a deal, after all."

Ahvie suppressed a squeak from her groaning mind.  "Yes, Mum."

The kaldorei snorted in derision or dissatisfaction, flexing her legs and armored ankles as though more gracefully performing an air of boredom that Ahvie so often portrayed atop lampposts. She wasn't sure whether to hate her or applaud her. The woman knew exactly what she was doing.

"Agent Narcoss speaks highly of you despite your inadequacies," M continued, a souring grimace of distate accompanying the scars on her wisened but unwrinkled face.  "Notable illidari I am reluctant to admit receiving reliable intel from also corroborate this stout reference for your resourcefulness to both the Alliance batallion you serve and the Champions of Azeroth. It seems that despite keeping your distance from your associates, you have found a way to maintain some laudable degree of your contracted duties. Care to explain?"

Ahvie squeezed her eyes shut for a time, unable to keep her embarrassment and reluctance from showing on her likely blushing face. Did all of her friends have to talk her up in what she hoped was a way to make them forget about her? She HAD been staying as busy with her adulting work for SI:7 as not. Perhaps moreso. A war with Sylvanas, a war with N'Zoth, a war with cultists threatening Finryx's attempt at convincing everyone he was dead, a war with those who hunted Ael and his family... all balanced on the tips of several knives while feeding the void fiend growing within her cloak. Within her mind. She wouldn't be able to explain this one away to just mere skill and vagaries. Would Rennadyr have told M and Shaw what she was, despite his promise not to? Would telling them now imply that Rennadyr had lied or been oblivious to the creature that lurked just below the facade of childish trickster?

What she said was, "Yes, Mum. I have been... teaching myself how to improve my connection to the void. Hunting zealots, cultists, N'Zothian abominations and rogue ren'dorei has given me a glimpse into adapting their volatile skills into something safely adoptable."

M narrowed her eyes to slits at that.  "Cut the crap, Brightsinger. You're not fooling anyone with that deliberate exposition. At ease."

Ahvie exhaled more with frustration than relief, and the fury in her eyes eventually lifted them to lock paths with the blazing suns in M's glare.  "Fine."

"What have you been learning from your prey, Brightsinger? Do not leave anything out, or else we will know. Your batallion officers have sent back reports of considerable inquest."

The void elf balled her gloves into fists at that, trembling with an indignation she didn't know how to convey any better. She absolutely hated how Maiev implied she knew everything about her. And the damnable scariest part of that was how the warden very likely did, and was testing her to see if she'd lie to the people she'd served in protecting the civilians and innocent caught between fronts in the Third War. The night elf didn't outright say it, but previous debriefings usually brought it up at one time or another.

"I can make void rifts to any location I've been before, provided I have had a proper meal beforehand. I need my strength and focus to keep the portal open long enough to pass through, and transporting another takes more endurance than I have even on a good night. I can jump between shadows without being seen in the light forking them. I can blink probably as good as you can now, Mum, although only to the hilts of my daggers, up to a distance of nearly forty yards now. And I can speak Shath'yar fluently."

The silence that followed was so thick that Ahvie could have sliced it with a butter knife, and she risked sparing a glance toward Shaw. He was stroking his mustache thoughtfully, his expression little changed from earlier. Had he always known, but not cared? Ahvie nearly jumped in place as Huwe cleared his own throat, and she nearly rounded on him as she glared over her shoulder. His blank expression was blessedly replaced with what she hoped was confusion and consternation. Her ears drooped at that. She liked Huwe, even if he did act like someone had hit him square in the face with a stopsign.

M, meanwhile, was giving her a squinting gaze of ... Light, she had only heard of Maiev giving people those hateful glares a handful of times when the world was falling apart. Maybe she was becoming used to those now that Azeroth seemed to be on a two-year cycle of almost ending before the factions got their shit together and stopped fighting long enough to put a band-aid on the problem.

"Is that all?"  Was what came out of M's thin frown.  "Surely that isn't all you've gleaned from the whispers that you've been hearing the past two years. Many of our ren'dorei agents who have shown more loyalty than you have --"

"Excuse YOU, Maiev,"  Ahvie interrupted her this time, an edge rising in her voice for once.  "I have ALWAYS been loyal, ever since the day you gave me and my crew the means and the pride to help combat the madness in the name of a king who cared not for my past or crimes. Even after Wrathion showed up in the keep, he kept me on duty. As did you. I was a part of the Alliance before even you were, so don't you dare fuckin' give me that shit."

The room seemed to still even further, but M only quirked an eyebrow at Ahvie, although her bitter frown seemed to deepen despite it.  Ahvie didn't dare let up now.  "Yeah, I know I've been an insubordinate little shit the past two years, yet you kept me on. You didn't reprimand much past putting me on guard duty in Stormwind. If you wanna talk disloyalty, maybe we oughtta dredge up that time in Teldrassil you and Neva --"

Shaw cleared his throat right around the time that Ahvie was aware of the bladed talons of M's plated gauntlets were cupping her pale-skinned jaw. The woman's eyes were furious, brilliant and deadly... Ahvie supposed that she would have found the predator attractive in another life. But interrupting their grudge match was the mustachioed one, to whom both women turned. Ahvie, with some discomfort at being held in death's claws, faced the grandmaster as well. Matthias, for his part, was smiling. SMILING! He was amused at the provocation she had responded to.

"Well now, I hadn't quite expected anyone capable of getting under her armor quite so deftly since Illidan took her out for a date in the Cathedral," Shaw said with a chuckle, and M seemed to realize finally what she was doing.

Her icy suaveness had broken at a barb of equal pain. Letting go of Ahvie's neck, the warden huffed loudly and slumped back onto the edge of the table, her taloned gauntlets clenched remarkably easily despite the way Ahvie thought surely would have made it difficult to grip anything small. Ahvie risked a shit-eating grin for The Boss, which had the intended reaction. If she was going to be punished for it, it wouldn't be until after the meeting, the void elf surmised.

Shaw had a tittering giggle of his own, disarming Ahvie as well, before he continued as bemused as ever.  "As much as I would enjoy seeing who is the master of blinking in this mythical catfight, I'd rather we not lose two of our best agents to injuries in the process. Think you two girls can keep your tits in your corsets long enough to stay on topic?"

Ahvie couldn't quite believe what she was hearing, but she peeled out a delighted laugh at that, drawing the flat stares of Huwe and M. But Shaw, dearsweet Shaw, let her compose herself before he addressed her properly.  "We know you're holding out on us, Brightsinger. You've been interacting with Andraya on a regular basis, despite public records showing her to be little more than a rockstar of moderate repute. She is... not simply that, is she?"

The void elf snorted at that, shrugging nonchalantly. Maybe he knew more than Maiev did, but wasn't letting on. Why WAS he so nice to her by comparison? This time, M spoke tenatively, as though still trying to rein in the edge in her voice.

"Andraya is not our concern, as you have stilled countless ren'dorei defectors in the past months. Your intentions are ... admittedly not in question, Brightsinger. If the vocalist was as dangerous as unconfirmed reports allege, you would have put her down by now. We..."  and this was the part that painted the grin on Ahvie's face from ear to ear, for M exchanged deliberate glances with Shaw and Huwe,  "We trust your reports, Ahvie, even if you leave out details. Every agent needs secrets of their own to keep."

The warden then suddenly looked quite tired, as though having run a marathon without boots or having conceded her only meal in a year to a rival. Ahvie then felt herself blushing as she tried to wipe her smile of smug satisfaction off her pale expression, the stab of shame rushing i to replace her disappearing mirth unbidden. How quickly this was changing on her.

Huwe's deep and throaty bass of a voice made Ahvie jump again, not used to hearing him break the silence with such punctuation.  "Your accolades have built to such a point that we've little choice but to reward you for your... time served, shall we say."

She blinked. Several times more, and felt a cloud of dizziness pass into her fogging mind. Did she hear that right?

Shaw nodded appreciatively.  "Thanks to your efforts, both on and off the record, we three acknowledge the benefit of recognizing a promotion long overdue."

And before Ahvie's swimming vision could right itself, M finished the appraisal.  "Congratulations, Brightsinger. We would have told you sooner, but your string of absences gave us pause as to your activities. From tonight hereon, you'll be a Double-Oh."

Ahvie was having a hard time thinking straight. Clearly, surely, this was just one big euphoric dream. Maybe Akako had sneaked in some bloodthistle into the brownies the huntress baked for the two of them the other day. One minute the most dangerous stalker in Azeroth short of Valeera herself had been within a thumbs width of making her throat as pockmarked as her cloak, and the next she was being REWARDED for her efforts.

She certainly didn't know what to say to say.  "Uh... what?"

M scowled at her, and the night elf woman flicked a small piece of metal at the void elf. Ahvie's reflexes were too instinctual at this point to not react, even in her dazed stupor. A black leatherclad hand picked the projectile out of the air cleanly, and the rush of adrenaline jolted the ren'dorei back to awareness. It was a flat scrap of metal, like a brass hearthstone card etched with words and Alliance symbols. More intricately wrought than the nickel scrap she'd carried around the past two years.

She shivered, trembled, wracked by emotion she didn't want to deal with right now. For so long after the Third War knocked on her adopted home's doorstep and kicked her teeth in, Ahvie had been struggling to find her place in a world that increasingly was closing its doors to her because of the decisions she'd made in the past, despite the fact that those decisions were made to do more good than harm.

Ahvie had captained a pirate vessel by chance and not entirely by choice, at a time when the crew was nearly slaughtered in the aftermath of a bloody battle with Lei-Shen's navy. The crew had once abducted her with the intention of ransoming her... but in the rush of facing an evil that cared not for faction lines, Ahvie felt a mirrored rush of compassion for her dying captors as she had the first day she found she could use the Light to heal others.

Even after the fateful night that nearly saw her drowned amid falling wreckage of the lifeboats, Ahvie felt the first anchor weights of duty to people who swore to loyalty, compassion and causes larger than themselves. She had rallied their defenses, saved many of their crew at the expense of Sunreavers who took potshots at the pirates amid the storm, and had even fought back Mogu with an alarming hybrid mix of light and shadow. To which Ahvie only discovered later was thanks to the adoption of the red hooded cloak that had found her amid the flotsam, in the moment she should have drowned.

Perse, dormant though she had been at the time, elevated Ahvie to a second chance at doing the right thing no matter whose flag she flew. And so it was that the then-blood elf found her calling and delight in uniting criminals, deserters, thieves and souls robbed of hope of redemption beneath a banner of belief. She gave the pirates a moral compass to turn their lives around by helping others do the same.

That... that was exactly was Vyk was claiming to do, wasn't it? Not so different from when she had been cast about in the storm left by the passing of Sylvanas' army in Darkshore. Clinging to vengeance dimly lesser than her desire to save others' families from the same fate that befell her crew and her adopted family among the night elves... Ahvie... Light it was horrible to relive that, but in moments like these, she couldn't help but dwell on it. She rejoined the Alliance and SI:7 to gain enough power and resources to make a difference in the war.

And here, on the crossroads of a new era of conflict beneath a rising whirlwind of a storm originating from Sunwell knows where above Icecrown, Ahvie was being offered two distinctly different positions of import and influence. But that was the rub, wasn't it?

Accepting SI:7's offer of a promotion would have been abhorrent to her before all this clandestine nonsense nestled its way into her instincts. Leash herself? With paperwork and reports and commanding officers? How in the nine hells had she managed to stumble into this mess in the first place? Didn't she HATE having someone else tell her what to do when she could just go ahead on her own and do what needed to be done? Weren't rules and faction lines the very reasons that she had becoming a reluctantly elected pirate captain in the first place?

And yet, this Vyk, this sleazy know-it-all illusionist was throwing around the words and claims that had wrapped Ahvie's heart in chains of silk and seawater. It mattered little what he really thought, for his intentions were difficult to read. She knew what he was as surely as he knew what she was, and... you know what, it doesn't scare me. Zethos was just a blustering dumbass in the end, and Kreyas was an exception to the rule. What did it matter if Vyk was as crazy as he let on or worse? Didn't she speak and sign on with crazy long before she started acting like a spy and erstwhile assassin? He actually approached her with mirth and appreciation for the skills she had nursed since turning her crew into a commissioned privateer team.

Shaking her head, Ahvie hefted and tested the weight of the medal for a time, eyeing it with some sadness. Then she tossed it back onto the table next to a shocked M.

"I can't accept this, Mum. I'm sorry. I... I was planning on telling you rather soon as well, but..."  the void elf sucked in a deep breathe and exhaled slowly, trying to relax. She would tell as much as the truth as she dared. She owed them that much at least. They trusted her?  "I've recently been approached by a fixer unknown to me and others in the underground. And his job offer is one I'm not sure I can pass up. I intend to resign my post and commission."

There, she said it, and she shuddered despite herself. It was nice, having been one of those storybook spies she'd read or heard about in bard's tales. But it was just a passing --

M and Shaw exchanged glances, uncertain but not ruffled.  Huwe rumbled a reply that sounded something like remorse.  "You... want to leave? Brightsinger, you've done so much good with the work you've done. Stormwind, no... Azeroth would suffer a great loss at your abandonment of your duties."

Before Ahvie could respond, Shaw and M both spoke at the same time.  "Brightsinger, wait."  And they exchanged another glance, more assured of each other this time. Matthias gestured his deference to the warden.

"What sort of job has this fixer offered you?"

Ahvie pursed her lips, then grimaced. She was not about to tell a bunch of Stormwind bigwigs that a black dragon using the authority of the Alterac noble houses had tried to recruit her into a faction-neutral vigilante cadre of heroes and spies.

"He's assembling a crew of well-connected individuals, particularly from the scattered remnants of the Phoenix Highguard. Although he did not specify why he targeted us in particular, he did express an intention to use us as protectors of Azeroth unhindered by faction or race."

Shaw grinned at that, apparently, and M snorted with amusement. Matthias exchanged another glance with Huwe, who also rumbled in deep-chested laughter. Ahvie spun on him, jabbing a dark finger up at him, barely to his pecks. "And just what's so funny about that? A girl's allowed to have dreams of growing out of her training wheels, isn't she?"

M then exchanged another glance with Shaw, who nodded back. The silver-haired warden then spoke more smoothly and crisply than she had all evening, self-assuredness thick on her lips.  "You do not see it, Brightsinger? This man is luring you in with the very promise and allure that we we had, that we knew would work on you. This is an opportunity we know you would not pass up whatever your suspicions... whatever OUR suspicions."

Matthias was stroking the end of a curly mustache as he continued the thought.  "You need to control your ear expressiveness better, Ahvie, lest the effort you put into acting like a petulant child be undone. You don't like his offer any more than ours, even though we both have our benefits to you and your noble goals." Ahvie then blushed and looked down sharply at her feet in precisely the way she was sure a young elf maiden would beneath the critique of an all-knowing parent. Why did Shaw have to be so damned GOOD at his job? It was unfair! He was less than half her age!

M's voice was nearly on the cusp of laughter by the quiver in her clipping accent.  "Besides, Brightsinger. Nobody really leaves His Majesty's service. There is no matter of simply turning in your badge like a provincial sheriff without any repercussions. You know too much of the inner workings of command, know many more isolated agent cells and how to recognize our field operatives. No... I do not think we will accept your resignation."

The void elf looked up sharply, taking a cautionary step back right into Huwe, who laid a blocky but gentle hand on her shoulder. She had to make a considerable conscious effort to keep Perse from wrapping around the unexpected limb's touch.  Huwe hummed thoughtfully, but Ahvie cut in, indignant despite being surrounded.

"What, you saying you'll kill me if I try to quit? Or stick me in a cell until I sign another contract? You're not like Sylvanas or Garrosh, Maiev, even if you were a sorry excuse for a --"  to which the warden cleared her throat all too politely.

Ahvie did not want to give the insufferable near-immortal the satisfaction, but paused.

"Consider your duty to both your homeland and your adopted home, as well as to The Seventy-Third and your fellow crewmates,"  Maiev said dryly, but held up a finger tipped with a razor-sharp talon to silence Ahvie's protest.  "I'm not saying that your service to us excludes you from pursuing your dream of joining this ragtag band of vigilantes. In fact, much the contrary."

That's when the dark elf felt her heart sink, her blood going cold from the devious smile on M's face, the all-knowing tone in her voice when she was about to get her way. But Shaw picked up from there, as though to distract the Double-Oh agent from the near-sinister smirk on his superior's expression,  "Your suspicion of this self-proclaimed do-gooder is well-founded, we think, and Anduin would doubtless be as grateful as we to know the motives of this third party."

Ahvie let out a low groan of defeat, which eventually came out in as immature a whine as she could remember using on The Seventy-Third's radio. But it only deepened M's facesplitting grin, all white teeth beneath brilliant golden orbs.

"Your next mission, Brightsinger, is to infiltrate and ingratiate yourself with these recruiters and ringleaders. Earn their trust, gain access to their facilities and resources, and discover what they are up to. Report back what you find, and you might well help His Majesty as much as you had these past two years."

Ahvie brought her hands up to cover her eyes in disbelief and shame -- not that they wouldn't know she had squinted her eyes shut in a distorted grimace.  She couldn't get away from them, and they spoke as much sense as she had to them! They WANTED her to go, but also to keep working for them! Was... was she expected to just have her cake and eat it too, all while pretending that the cake wasn't forkroot or some veritas?

But then again, Perse said silently in her mind's eye, laughing with much the same deviousness as the warden in front of her, you would rather enjoy having access to SI:7 and the vigilantes, no? Perfect opportunity to tell the mortals only what they need to know.

What the void siren meant by that, or which mortals, Ahvie wasn't quite sure... but she knew in her core, her trembling, aching, groaning and exhausted innermost shelter of thought, that she had been trapped by two ancient night elves. Again. Oh she certainly was looking much the child now.

The medal flicked through the air with barely a warning, but Ahvie's ever-expressive ears picked up on that through her inward cringing, and the void elf's other hand deftly caught the metal scrap without really being told to. Bringing her other hand away from a face yet righting itself away from her pouty grimace, Ahvie sighed with exasperation and gave M and Shaw another salute. Wanting anything more than everything to be dismissed.

"Understood, Mum. I... humbly accept your promotion with thanks. It will not go to waste."

M snorted at that, and Huwe rumbled a deep chuckle. Ahvie ignored them, sneaking a final,  "And, uh, one question, if I may, Mum."

The languid wave of the warden's hand was the best indication she thought she'd get.  "If I am to join and infiltrate this new crew, as it were, I won't have much time to report back to Rennadyr, Wildo and --"

"They have ranks, still, Brightsinger."

"-- Lucy. I haven't even told them yet that these... these two offers are on the table."

"You've got your hand on one already, Ahvie,"  Shaw replied, his colloquial smile and tone disarming her with ease.  "And accepting that means accepting your mission. You have two weeks to get everything arranged with The Seventy Third, using whatever truth or narrative you wish. We will not undo the work you've done to establish the rapport and business relationships you've established with them."

She squinted at him, trying not to sound relieved.  "They're called friendships, Shaw."

"Are they now?"  He quirked an eyebrow in a Narcoss-like manner. Maybe he invented it.  "And here I thought you had been a reluctant party to the yoke across your back. My, but you are still new to this, aren't you, Little Shadow?"

That last honorary made Ahvie flinch, for it was the same title Vyk had coined for her. Could Vyk be one of these three but under the guise of their voice and appearance? She really didn't want to start suspecting everyone she met, so she put that thought away with another sigh of defeat.

"Thank you, sir, Mum. I'll set to informing my battalion of my impending transfer within the allotted time period."

She would NOT thank them for keeping the leash on, albeit with a loosening of the slack.

In classical Ahvie fashion, she spun on her heels, wriggled free of Huwe's iron grip on her shoulder with a glamor of barely-noticeable adjusting of the friction of her shadowsuit. Mastery over her body's skin to make it look and feel as though she were properly clothed (she was, she tried to remind herself) often granted her many a slick surface devoid of purchase for grappling opponents. So it was that she ducked around Huwe and made for the door before the cue ball of an officer could spin around.

Maiev's voice chuckled and chortled in the grandmotherly way that kaldorei women infamously were known for mastering.  "Two weeks, Brightsinger, and you'd better have news to report on this gathering of vigilantes!"

The void elf pointedly ignored the prospect of offering any salute or grunt of assent, and nudged one of the double-doors open just enough for her to slip through, a whisper in the deepening shadows of Stormwind Keep's underbelly.

#wow #wow rp #world of warcraft #world of warcraft rp #wyrmrest accord #emerald dream #skyhunters #sky hunters #liniadel #ahvie #my oc #not my ocs #others oc #maiev #si:7 #matthias shaw #stormwind #void elf #ren'dorei #horde and alliance #crossfaction #seventy-third #73rd #narcoss #andraya #normandy sr2 #phoenix highguard #phg

[diguerra-moved]

Kael'thas was afraid other wasn't aware of such special day existing but... Blood elf decided to risk. It was so hard to pick a gift for someone like Illidan, someone who wanted nothing and appreciated little. He approached demon hunter when he was sitting&sneaked behind him to put his hands on other's arms. 'You should rest from time to time, My Lord.' his palms, infused by warm magic started to massage other's muscles. 'I tied up your chambers, do you wish to see?'

LOVE IS IN THE AIR // what do you mean valentine’s day was two days ago I’m not late at all.

Not uncommon a thing, for the Lord of Outland to be found leaning over plans, studying information old and new in trying to unveil the path to the Legion’s most important world; and not for the first time Kael’thas found him so. The quiet approach does not startle him, and neither does touch (when had it become common enough occurrence that it felt so natural?). Distracting is his first thought; but distracting in a pleasant manner, enough so that Illidan does not reject it. When had physical contact of any sort become welcome thing once more, the demon hunter did not know either (part of him wished to shun Kael’thas for this very reason; he got too close, was allowed too much, and Illidan hardly needed yet another betrayal from yet another person he permitted delving too deeply within his heart).

Sense of dread thought causes is pushed back, willfully forgotten under the prince’s warm touch. He had been devoted to his work for too long, and now that complete concentration had been broken it was easy enough to feel the stiffness that took hold of his body. A sigh; perhaps Kael’thas had reason in this, too, and it was due time for him to rest.

And yet… something in offer sounds different, different even from mere attempt on the sin’dorei’s part to have Illidan’s attention turned to him. Were any other to suggest they had been within his chambers without their Lord’s express permission might have received grim admonishment and sharp punishment; Kael’thas is not one such, special privilege made manifest in answer given. “…I suppose I have done enough for now.”

“Let us go, then.” Gently breaks away from the prince’s touch and stands, gaze finally meeting the other, hint of suspicion in how he stares at the blonde.  “… Though I have to wonder what is the special occasion that would have you do so yourself.”

#illidan has no idea what a valentine's day is so you get nothing kael sorry #kajsndfkdaksjdnf #aen-consilium #illidan is the worst valentine rip kael for being stuck with him :/// #* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED. #* dynamics: illidan stormrage & kael'thas sunstrider / WE NEVER GO THROUGH THE FIRE WITHOUT BEING CHANGED. [ AENCONSILIUM ] #* verse 003: illidan stormrage / THE LORD AND MASTER OF OUTLAND REIGNED SUPREME.

[diguerra-moved]

I was hearing the shadowlands panel thing again and now I’m sorting where my muses would go if they died and:

‘relentless spirit’ ‘unyielding’ ‘strength inward and outward’ ‘would never bow’ all.eria would surely go to maldraxxus if she died 

natha.nos would probably go to revendreth bc penance. he’s not bad enough that he’d go straight to the maw tbh. 

lor’th.emar could well go to maldraxxus too, but ‘had a natural calling in life for service in one form or another’ ‘order’ ‘purpose’ ‘serving’ makes him a strong candidate for bastion too actually so I haven’t decided 

alex would 100% be bastion

illid.an would be with his bf in vampire land jk he’s too demon and can’t die

sind.ragosa was??? probably chilling in bastion when art.has brought her back rip

natha.nos too would have been there if ar.thas hadn’t brought him back rip

I feel like darion? would be more maldraxxus than bastion? 

tyra.nde I want to say ardenweald but she’s not as directly tied to nature as the other beings that would be there, I think, or even with the dream etc so I guess she’d go to one of the first two. I think either could be it from what we know now, but I think that would vary depending on when we’re talking about. if, say, she had died in the wota, she’d definitely have gone to bastion, but as the night warrior, I would sa maldraxxus, except if being the literal chosen of her goddess and embodiment of her wrath gives her privileges to go to nature land and be eventually reborn lol 

#this is probably not relevant to anything but *shrug emoji* #also!!! #I wonder if the whole 'the arbiter judges your life and sends you to one of those places' means you end up having to be separated from ppl #you care about if they're sent somewhere else when they die? #there's that one city in the middle that connects everything but like #separated 95% of the time? maybe #* out of character: the mun / JUST YOUR LOCAL ANXIOUS NERD. #* muse: alleria windrunner / VOID TOUCHED. #* muse: nathanos blightcaller / CHAMPION OF THE BANSHEE QUEEN. #* muse: lor'themar theron / A RANGER AT HEART. #* muse: sindragosa / FROST QUEEN. #* muse: tyrande whisperwind / ELUNE’S CHOSEN. #* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED. #* muse: alexstrasza / CRIMSON QUEEN. #* muse: darion mograine / HIGHLORD.

[diguerra-moved]

For Illidan: T Y R A N D E

*     VALENTINE’S DAY ALPHABET   !    // accepting.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

He does c’: because he loved Tyrande since he was like, old enough to love anyone and realize it was love. Illidan never doubted for a single moment that what he felt for her was and would always be true love. That said, he doesn’t believe it in a sense of ‘meant to be together’, soulmates or anything of the sort. He did, in their youth, but as time passed and Tyrande never reciprocated his feelings, he came to see it differently, more that true love means it is strong and everlasting and he’ll never feel the same way about anyone else no matter how much he changes or how much time passes or how their paths diverge. To him, what he feels for Tyrande would be the definition of true love, reciprocated or not.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

Incredibly easily. Even if he knows the other person to be very much capable of defending themselves, it is nearly instinctive — and Illidan, being impulsive as he is, will act on it immediately. This can be in relation to a physical danger/threat of any sort, or even towards verbal demeaning/aggression of any sort. If there is any sort of reason for him to feel protective, Illidan will; and to be fair, sometimes he will act protective even if there isn’t a reason for it. If he perceives anything as a reason, even if just in possibility, or in the case of a misinterpretation on his part, he’ll get protective all the same, and he’ll tend to attack/lash out even before anything concrete is done because he is Like That.

That said, this only applies to the few people he really cares about. He can be protective to an extent of people he’s not particularly close to if the situation calls for it and there’s at least some sort of friendliness between them, but even that is not a common occurrence. Everyone else can die in a ditch tbh he doesn’t care c:

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

Regardless of timeline, I think he would declare himself a cynic, but that wasn’t always true. Illidan had a very romanticized view of things in his youth; it’s easy to perceive that in the very way he acts about Tyrande. He loves her, and he wants her to choose him (and hopes and believes she will), but for that he has to prove himself worthy of her. Lots of his bad decisions come from that, because he feels he has to win over her feelings for him, that he has to prove himself, and he thinks being the most powerful is how he’s going to do that (and failing to understand Tyrande at all rip Illidan). But yeah, it is a very romantic belief, that his love for her is true and that he has to be worthy of her for her to love him back, while also believing he will succeed and they will be together. Not only that, Illidan is very passionate in general, and could be said to have some idealistic views even after his transition into his more demonic version: he believes in sacrifices made to achieve an important purpose, he believes he’ll save the world (the universe, later on) from the Legion, a permanent salvation that while it wouldn’t end all that is wrong about the world, would free it of the most dire threat possible (the way he sees it).

That said, when it comes to relationships specifically, he did become a cynic over the years. The two moments that cemented that transition, and that made him lose all faith in bonds of any sort, romantic or otherwise, were all about Tyrande and Malfurion. The first one was when he was imprisoned. He felt strongly justified in the need of doing what he was doing, but Malfurion sent him to jail and Tyrande stood by his brother’s choice. The second is after sacrificing his very soul to stop corruption of spreading throughout the forest, Malfurion banished him for becoming a demon and Tyrande, once again, stood by his choice. They were undoubtedly the closest bonds Illidan had his entire life; Malfurion was his twin, and they didn’t have family beyond each other, and Tyrande their inseparable friend, and later the one Illidan fell in love with. That in spite of that the two of them made the choices they did in regards to him ended any belief he had in people, because if the two he trusted the most turned out like that, there is no way he’s going to trust anyone else only for them to turn out the same.  He became very skeptical of relationships ever being true or lasting. It is a defense mechanism, really, so when people let him down, there’s no surprise in that.

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

As someone who always felt like he had to constantly prove himself, either because of his ‘destined to greatness’ status or because he felt he was in the shadow of his brother, acknowledging someone’s skills and qualities through compliments is definitely a demonstration of affection on his part, because it is, to Illidan, a way to show them he sees them and those awesome things about them, and he appreciates them. When it comes to a romantic relationship in specific, those will be a lot more, hm, flourished; he can be smooth with words when he wants to, but usually in a way that’s not subtle and really overdoing it. 

It might not seem like that, but his protectiveness is also a display of affection. He’s not protective of people he doesn’t care for, and he’ll always strive to try to keep people he does care for safe. Happy, too; he will go to great lengths to cheer up someone he loves, even if he goes about it in a completely wrong manner and doesn’t get the expected result kajsnfkjasndf His concern for the person is also a manner of showing affection. He will be concerned about big things, but this mostly manifests through small things, such as caring for them getting enough rest, being comfortable, etc.

Physical gestures aren’t common on his part, and neither are they always tied with affection. 

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

He tends to rough and domineering, but will be incredibly gentle and considerate with someone he has feelings for. He’s always mindful of his partner’s pleasure, though that is sometimes more for himself than it is for them iasidufnjskdnf Illidan also refuses not to be a top unless Tyrande will top him.

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

Before, it would have been something real fancy and standard romance, like planning an entire evening that would include things they both liked and allow him to spoil his partner but also to be seen with them because if he’s dating someone he definitely wants people to see them together and be jealous because there’ll never be a better couple ever. Said partner would have been Tyrande ofc.

But then his life turned awful he was imprisoned for ten thousand years became a demon kinda and while he can appreciate fine things, he doesn’t care as much for them anymore. Neither would he care about being seen, and would likely prefer something more private and intimate instead.  

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

He doesn’t. His not a fan of hugs, and I don’t think he ever was; which isn’t to say he avoids them, necessarily, but also that he definitely does 90% of the time. Malfurion and Tyrande were probably the two people who were ever allowed to hug him, and the only ones who’d have gotten Illidan hugs that weren’t that sort of awkward I’m-hugging-you-because-I-can’t-be-impolite-and-push-you-away sort of hugs. His nice hugs tend to be protective and comforting, very warm and unexpectedly soft.

#necroarchy #* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED. #* character study: illidan stormrage / HIS SCARS MADE HIM. #I've talked way more than I needed to on most of those replies bc I can't get straight to the point ig aksdjnfkajsndf #* out of character: the mun / JUST YOUR LOCAL ANXIOUS NERD.

[diguerra-moved]

Illidan wrote a book to say druidism is bullshit and his brother sucks and honestly that’s some next level pettiness right there I can’t even iausdhiufhe

#and if the synopsis is anything to go by it is bad #I mean #'Fact or Carefully Planned Out Farce Perpetrated By My Brother -By Illidan' #BAD #* out of character: the mun / JUST YOUR LOCAL ANXIOUS NERD. #* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED.

[diguerra-moved]

from here!

Tagged By: @necroarchy ty <3

Tagging: @sunrunnerrs @ladywindrunner @lady-proudmoore @fatesblades @lightsblade

#I did my best with what I was given but honestly he’s too pretty askdjnfkasdnf #the wings were bad bc they were small so he's wingless #the lack of shirt is just bc illidan is a hoe #shrug emoji #* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED. #* out of character: the mun / JUST YOUR LOCAL ANXIOUS NERD.

[diguerra-moved]

'I am forever in debt, Lord Illidan. You are first to accept my kind with all of their flaws&somehow... I feel less desperate finally. You offered me more than I ever asked for.' Kael @Illidan (I live for parallers today shhhh)

KAEL ! // always accepting.

Gratitude still feels so foreign a thing, when he had been denied of it time and again regardless of how much he sacrificed. He stares at the Prince with piercing felfire sight, finds nothing but honesty in bearing and words alike. Tastes like a victory, if a small one, like retribution; to finally be acknowledged for his deeds, instead of being regarded as a monster, shunned as a betrayer. Tastes bitter that one who was to him a complete stranger until not long ago would think of him so highly while those who had always known him (one who had unknowingly laid claim to his heart) thought of him so low.

Gaze softens, still upon Kael’thas. Illidan cannot name exactly what it is the unprompted expression of gratitude causes him to feel, but he feels, and it most certainly lowers walls he has surrounded himself with in thankless time he spent forgotten in his sunless prison. “I could not have done anything less, young prince.”

“I understand your people’s plight, as well as I understand what it is like to be shunned.” Had felt the hunger, had been judged for it; time after time after time all he had received were accusing eyes. They were mistaken about him, of course, and he would not have cared (did not care) except for the two exceptions he had not expected to find judgement from. 

And if Tyrande had at first offered him support to overcome his thirst for arcane magic, had it not made her look at him as lesser, when she had chosen his brother in the end? None of them understood, then. None of them understood as he sought Sargeras to turn his power against him, none understood when he did whatever it took for his people to survive. “You will find no judgement from me.”

“And in time, your people will rise again, I am certain. We will prove wrong all who have wronged us, Kael.”

#aen-consilium #* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED. #* in character: illidan stormrage / HE SACRIFICED EVERYTHING. #* verse 003: illidan stormrage / THE LORD AND MASTER OF OUTLAND REIGNED SUPREME.

[diguerra-moved]

'Why were you looking at Tyrande like that?' golden eyes looked at other and his eyebrows narrowed. 'I was certain that you are aware... I like her. A lot.' @Illidan

REQUESTED IC ASKS // always accepting.

What arises within his chest is vicious with intensity that makes him sick and seethe with anger all at once. It is his brother, his twin, his best friend; surely enough they had clashed on occasion, yet never had he hated Malfurion in truth. Hate? Was it what this was? The mere thought of hating his own brother drowns such feelings in guilt. Malfurion is his brother, his twin, his best friend; they share much more than mirrored countenance. 

Even love for Tyrande should not drive them apart — nevertheless, he knows it will even as the thought comes to him. Golden eyes narrow to meet his brother’s gaze, jaw clenched. Why was he to renounce his feelings for her if Malfurion would not do the same? The druid acts as if it is an absurd thing, the possibility Illidan had not realized how his brother felt for Tyrande; laughable, when it denounces that Malfurion does just so, oblivious to Illidan’s love for her.

Tyrande did not belong to Malfurion. She had made no choice, not yet; he would not be told how to look or when to turn his gaze away. 

She would be his still — Illidan would not give up on her, not even to spare his brother’s feelings.

Nonchalance in shrug offered speaks of blatant disregard, though fierceness shining in his eyes has naught of passive in it. Underlying aggressiveness colors tone, the tension upon his shoulders; there is no attack, however, choice of words one that could easily mean obliviousness were they not accompanied by such blatant signs of Illidan’s stance on the matter. “Don’t we both, brother?”

#aen-consilium #* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED. #* in character: illidan stormrage / HE SACRIFICED EVERYTHING. #arrives late with starbucks #ashfnaksjdnf #this took forever but it was fun #in a horrible way because illidan is so much more distressed than he lets on because he in fact did not want to lose either of them #c': #but he is also possessive and doesn't know what love really is but thinks he does #tldr: local elf does not know how to feelings (and morality probably)

[diguerra-moved]

What does Illidan think of Alleria?

META ASKS // always accepting.

He’d think she is okay I guess. I don’t think Illidan gave her much thought, and he is definitely not likely to just like people in general but I think if they had interacted more, he might have liked her. That his appearance is demonic wouldn’t make her bat an eye, which of course he would appreciate, and it would hit close to home for him that Alleria chose to use questionable forces to fight the Legion and ended up being judged (and imprisoned!!) because of that. I think there would be some sense of kinship? He’d feel like he understands, and it would make him more sympathetic to her (Illidan is not as uncaring as he likes to seem, and it hits him particularly hard when people go through anything somewhat similar to what he went through). 

But much of that would depend on them interacting. As is, the impression he has of her is very distant ��� not bad, because he would know part of the story and have a more positive view of her for it, but not as good as it could have been, because from what he sees, she’s too deeply associated with the Army of the Light and he’s… eh. About it. Not a fan. 

In the end he was too caught up with coming back to life, reuniting with his adopted children and fighting and ending the Legion once and for all, and Alleria was also fighting but she was doing her thing elsewhere and they didn’t really get to work together, so he wouldn’t have given her much thought. So yeah, I think the impression he’d have of her would be distant, but somewhat positive. 

#Anonymous #* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED. #* character study: illidan stormrage / HIS SCARS MADE HIM. #also she's an elf illidan likes elves doesn't matter if night or high or blood all elves are cool #other races eh he just doesn't care much #except for lady vashj's naga #tldr: #I THINK THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN FRIENDS #I WISH THEY WOULD #they could bond over using questionable power sources hating xe'ra and being imprisoned #and people they loved standing by and letting it happen/implicitly supporting it lol

[diguerra-moved]

'My Lord... I know you have much more important matters than this to attend yet I can't stop myself from trying. Would you like to drink a bit of wine with me this evening and simply relax?'

SEND ME IC ASKS PLS & THANKS

Relax. When had been the last time he had even allowed himself to do something as mundane? Not since before his imprisonment, likely. Surely enough, even in this twisted land there had been moments of celebration at times, following particularly relevant victories; and yet it was not at all the same, not when he never let himself enjoy it fully, not when there was no true rest nor entertainment to be found in such festivities. Had they not paled in comparison to what true celebration ought to be like (and if others would question what he, more demonic in nature than any elf had a right to be, would know of finesse, Illidan had always had a taste for finer things, if not one he indulged in any longer), the Lord of Outland would still have been reluctant to give himself any rest, to find any joy in trivialities. 

He had a goal. A purpose. 

Everything else paled in comparison to it.

For as long as the Legion still stood, there would be no rest for him. For as long as Sargeras threatened the universe, there would be no enjoyment. Illidan had one goal alone, and nothing should stand in the way of reaching it, much less frivolous things such as wasting time for his own enjoyment alone. Kil’jaeden would have to be dealt with much before his master, personal threat that he was to the demon hunter even beyond his high stand within the Burning Legion. The first of his demon hunters seemed to be yet another failure, he had just learned, most dead before there could even be results to measure. 

There was so much to be planned, to be done — and he was nowhere near achieving his intended objectives as was. 

Immense discontentment wasn’t caused by the young prince, though one might take it to be so with frown that lingered on Illidan’s face (grimace that had been there even before the prince approached, but that was not lessened by his presence). Indeed, he had more important matters to attend to, as Kael’thas himself pointed out, as he felt compelled to bite in reply. What causes him to soften an otherwise too sharp answer, he is uncertain of. Perhaps some foolish sense he has yet to appease the golden prince to earn his loyalty, as if Kael’thas had not given it so willing… perhaps it is simply admittance that as is, he cannot quite voice his displeasure with the prince’s lack of action when he himself does not move to fulfill plans or perform duties, perched up in the terrace’s edge, brooding near the small garden of luminescent flowers that are a constant reminder of her. 

Perhaps it is that Kael, as much as Vashj, had gotten under his skin deeper  than the Lord of Outland would acknowledge even to himself.

“How can I relax when there is so much to do?” So much falling apart, so much he’s falling behind in achieving? Words, accompanied by a scoff, taste sour, feel bitter, and he knows it won’t have escaped his companion, and he loathes that he would let himself be so easily read. It is no lie, though; even in this apparent moment of contemplation he cannot be at ease, instead indulging the hurt old wounds, the frustration of new failures and the familiar taste of solitude. “Our progress is much too slow as is.”

Face turns away from the prince (crimson and gold that stand out so against the somber colors of the Temple, that clash so with felfire green that has already tainted Kael’thas’ eyes, delicate features of a beauty that did not quite fit with Outland or its master, both scars and pieces and demonic taint), turning again to the orange-white petals of the one flower he had plucked before unceremoniously letting it fall from his grasp to the distant ground beneath, easily discarded. He does not want Kael’thas’ pity, nor to allow himself be regarded as vulnerable. Wings flex in sign of his irritation, and in a single elegant movement that some may find unsuitable to his figure, Illidan stands, walking towards his companion to stop only at distance perhaps too close for comfort, green flames gazing down to meet Kael’thas’ eyes. There is no amusement nor kindness in his features, impassible. “Alas,” Suavity that did not before color his tone now present, he addresses the offer at last; it does not match his gaze, intensely burning into Kael’thas’ own. “That only makes the wine seem all the more appealing.”

“I might indulge your request this once, dear prince. Do not get used to it.”

#👀👀👀 #aen-consilium #thank you so much for this I love it thanks #illidan doesn't know how to talk to people #apparently #* verse 003: illidan stormrage / THE LORD AND MASTER OF OUTLAND REIGNED SUPREME. #* in character: illidan stormrage / HE SACRIFICED EVERYTHING. #* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED. #illidan: angry and broody #illidan half a second later: I'll accept ;)

[diguerra-moved]

Topic: Illidan's thoughts on Shandris?

META TOPICS // always accepting.

I don’t think he ever gave her much thought? lol (tyrande vc: this is why we can’t have nice things)

During the war, when Tyrande first comes across Shandris (and immediately adopts her) her relationship with Illidan is already faltering because he’s more and more concerned with winning her and she’s rightfully not here for that. Not long after she found Shandris, he tries to “confess” (read: impose) his feelings on Tyrande and of course it goes terribly because uh he does it in the worst possible way? And then he leaves to put in motion his plan to infiltrate the palace and begin his path to become the edgelord supreme he eventually becomes so he never really meets Shandris then, and in the short amount of time before he leaves, he just doesn’t care, Shandris could be literally any war orphan he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

Considering Malfurion is only aware of Shandris after Tyrande is kidnapped by the Legion, Illidan probably didn’t even meet her at all. She’s there when he tries to create a second well and attacks Jarod Shadowsong, as well as when he’s sentenced to prison, but she wouldn’t be registered as anything other than a threat to his work right then, or one of his hypocritical people, if he spared more than a glance at her (which he wouldn’t, particularly not when they are deciding his fate —- he’s too consumed with his hatred and resent and hurt towards Malfurion and Tyrande to think of anyone else).

And then when he’s freed by Tyrande thousands of years later I don’t think he and Shandris ever meet either, so he was probably never even aware of her, not that she’s the Sentinel’s second-in-command, nor even that she’s Tyrande’s adopted daughter. He goes to Outland never knowing, he dies without knowing, he comes back, does stuff in Legion, goes to fight Sargeras eternally and still probably never heard of Shandris or never paid attention to her at all.

That said, I think if he met her the when would influence his feelings on her a lot. Early on in the War of the Ancients? Probably wouldn’t care much, but might pretend he did if only because Tyrande cared for this kid for some reason. Considering he’s trash and thinks he knows best, he’d probably not care though and just be like Tyrande pls why are you caring for this dirty street orphan she won’t live long anyways. If it were after he’s freed, he’d maybe disregard her less because he doesn’t care much for the nelves anymore but Shandris is important to Tyrande, or just not care like he doesn’t care for the rest of the nelves, if he was unaware of her bond to Tyrande. Illidan would probably be less dismissive towards her the later he got to know her, but him knowing of her connection to Tyrande is the only thing that would make him care tbh. Depending on the when, Shandris’ existence and her relationship with Tyrande might make him bitter (specially considering Shandris seems to regard Malfurion as her dad) or not; and still depending on when, him knowing Tyrande cares for her might possibly lead him to care a little bit too. Or not. I’d say probably yes. Anyways, he still wouldn’t have many thoughts on Shandris by herself, it would all be very tied to Tyrande. 

As is though, he has no thoughts on her at all askdndfkasjdnf

#acherys #illidan @ shandris: I don't even know who you are #* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED. #* character study: illidan stormrage / HIS SCARS MADE HIM. #it's fucking awful how he likes to make things about tyrande #lol #* out of character: the mun / JUST YOUR LOCAL ANXIOUS NERD.

[diguerra-moved]

Furion Stormrage: Foul demon! What have you done with my brother? Illidan Stormrage: It is I, Furion. This is what I've become.  Tyrande Whisperwind: No! Illidan, how could you? Illidan Stormrage: The leader of the undead has been destroyed, and the forests will heal in time. Furion Stormrage: At the cost of your soul? You are no brother of mine! Begone from this place, and never set foot in our lands again!

1. malfurion nicknames are always The Worst 2. the fundamental difference between how tyrande and malfurion face illidan and what happened to him seems pretty evident here. he is disgusted, but she is horrified. ultimately both of them reject what illidan has become, but while tyrande is initially troubled about what illidan did to himself then incredulous he would have gone that far, malfurion’s reaction doesn’t show similar disbelief, instead immediate in his condemning of his brother no matter the reasons he presented. maybe he felt it, but he never shows any kind of regret/anguish at illidan’s fate, while tyrande actually does, even if it’s brief 3. I still fail to see how illidan sacrificing his soul to save his people (even though he claimed they were not his people anymore) and land should earn that reply? sure, if malfurion was like ‘oh you’re lying that was actually all for power you don’t care for the land or our people I knew it see tyrande I told you freeing him was a mistake’ I could buy it but eh ofc illidan’s intentions were not the purest and well he was tempted towards the skull of guldan precisely because arthas used his hunger for power but the point is the dialogue never points that way and malfurion’s reaction isn’t to that but to the transformation his brother suffered allegedly to save their land 4. why illidan still found it in himself to forgive malfurion is beyond me

#* muse: tyrande whisperwind / ELUNE’S CHOSEN. #* character study: tyrande whisperwind / ONLY THE GODDESS MAY FORBID HER ANYTHING. #* dynamics: tyrande whisperwind & illidan stormrage / HER GREATEST MISTAKE. #* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED. #today in mel hates malfurion

[diguerra-moved]

tag drop: illidan stormrage

#* muse: illidan stormrage / THE BETRAYED. #* in character: illidan stormrage / HE SACRIFICED EVERYTHING. #* isms: illidan stormrage / SOMETIMES THE HAND OF FATE MUST BE FORCED. #* character study: illidan stormrage / HIS SCARS MADE HIM. #* aesthetic: illidan stormrage / BEAUTIFUL THINGS HAVE DENTS AND SCRATCHES TOO. #* physique: illidan stormrage / HE IS A WARRIOR AND HE WEARS THE SCARS WELL. #* verse 001: illidan stormrage / GOLDEN EYES MARKED HIM FOR GREATNESS. #* verse 002: illidan stormrage / AND HE WAS NAMED THE BETRAYER. #* verse 003: illidan stormrage / THE LORD AND MASTER OF OUTLAND REIGNED SUPREME. #* verse 004: illidan stormrage / ONLY THEY COULD SAVE THEMSELVES. #* dynamics: illidan stormrage & maiev shadowsong / THE HUNTRESS IS NOTHING WITHOUT THE HUNT. #* dynamics: illidan stormrage & lady vashj / STRONG AND PASSIONATE AND FULL OF CONVICTION. #* dynamics: illidan stormrage & kael'thas sunstrider / IN ORDER TO RISE FROM ITS ASHES THE PHOENIX FIRST MUST BURN. #* dynamics: illidan stormrage & the illidari / THEY WOULD SACRIFICE EVERYTHING TO SAVE THEIR WORLD. #* dynamics: illidan stormrage & malfurion stormrage / STRUGGLE FOLLOWED THEM ALL OF THEIR LIVES. #* dynamics: illidan stormrage & tyrande whisperwind / WHATEVER HE MIGHT BECOME HE WOULD ALWAYS CARE FOR HER. #after ten thousand years finally he has tags #and I have his replies in the drafts @ everyone waiting for illidan replies saknjdfsadnf/ #/mostly/ done I just have to feel they are ok enough to post #lol