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thecrimsonlights · 7 years

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[RP-Story] Echo’s of the Past

Fingers tipped against one another, starting with the pinkie to the thumb. Hands mirrored their movements as if they held a glass between them. This was a dance, no a ritual between them one that started slowly like sizing up the prey as it’s cornered. All that was left was for the other to give up and relinquish this power between them. The Red Queen normally caved first, the White Queen a terrifying dominator in their game. Tonight the game was different, they tested boundaries like no other before. Where once soft hands trembled in excitement, now found themselves calloused and damaged by time.

The sounds of giggling penetrated the ears of one of them bringing them back simpler times. Red canyons and the ominous door that loomed over the encampments. Cups of warm drink shared between the pairs of hands as they sat back to begin watching and waiting. Words could not be remembered that started the soft giggling but at least one smiled in that moment; “You think it’s funny??” The blonde asked finishing the braid to be left over her shoulder. Reaching down to the rock behind her she picked up the tin mug and sniffed the contents before siping. The slightly elongated eyebrow arched a moment as her ears lowered. “Well?” “No… no it’s not that…” The redhead replied trying to contain her laughter. Even for such warm colored sand and rocks a bitter wind rustled across the landscapes causing the woman to move closer to the Knight for warmth. “I just think… your expression isn't’ that of most of the Blood Knights I’ve met that is all. You don't’ have their sharp looks and grouchy expressions.” She smiled and to the blonde it looked like the rays of the sun, warm and inviting.

Leaning over the Knight brought her face closer to examine the Priestess beside her, “I’m plenty grouchy, just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.” For her efforts she found herself being pinched on the cheeks by the other woman. Blinking in surprise she couldn’t help but grin slightly, her resolve melted by the priestess’s touch and tender nature. Closing her eyes she moved in to close the gap between them finding their lips brushed against the others. For all the hesitation in mind the action was reciprocated as the Priestess let go of the cheek and returned the kiss tenderly, warmly as the other would describe. The redhead smiled as they parted resting her forehead against the others but being mindful of the head gear, “Why do you keep doing this Lymia?” “What kiss you? You keep taunting me by being so sweet Astallia. Thank you for the Coffee, by the way.” The giggled rose in her throat once more as she leaned against the other’s leg. “You are very welcomed… you’ve been here on this rock for hours for guard duty. I figured it would help keep you awake.” A sound similar to a ‘hmm’ was heard from Lymia’s throat as she drank more of the coffee for a moment then teased, “You could stand naked in that gift I got you across the way to keep me awake too…” She smirked wide as the other blushed, lightly smacking her hand against the red armor she wore. “Lym~~ia. You are terrible. Please tell me you didn’t bring it. Besides too many eyes both Horde and Alliance. I’m not going to show that off for all of them too.” Astallia complained softly still embarrassed it was brought up to begin with. “Kar’shen said we’ll be crossing the portal soon. Kala’dra already has the supplies ready with Kulena, and Faitima has the orders from the commanders.” Reaching over with a free hand Lymia lightly rubbed her lover's backside looking towards at the encampments narrowing her gaze to see if the Alliance was acting up again. “Nervous at all? We don’t know what will be waiting for us in Outland. It’s been months since we heard any news from the last set of Elves that went across.. Least those loyal to the Prince.” “A bit.. But I think Faitima is more nervous… her husband was part of the first few waves across. I think she’s just worried about finding his corpse or worse.” Astallia confessed watching her lovers hawk like gaze scan the area. “But I’ll be with you so I don't’ care.” Lymia frowned for a moment, “You should care. We might not come home.” Touching her heart a moment she reached up grabbing the other womans braid to pull her closer. “My home is where you are…” she whispered before kissing the Blood Knight’s lips once more.

~~~

Time changes all things, yet the pair continued their dance, fingers touched scars from battles, burn marks from dangers unspeakable at that moment. The runic tattoos, shape of their muscles on both sides. Neither were soft to the touch anymore. Yet like unfading memories they could remember the time when one’s touch caused the other to feel warmed like the kiss of the sun. Now it was like a bitter ash, a reminder of life that was robbed unjustly. Time had robbed them both of opportunity, reason, and forgiveness. Even now one could remember the blood curdling screams of a star filled night in an unfamiliar sky.

~~~

The demon cackled watching the first of two armored fall to their back. His words falling on deaf ears as the Troll brought the long blade across his leg, forcing the monster to his knee. It let out the guttural cries of it’s own spell casting causing the armored Knight to thrash wildly and seemingly attempt to rip out her own midsection. Mauled by the druids claws and beaten by the axes of the elemental wielding orc, what the demon feared was the slender elf who casted enchantments in his language. It looked down at its own midsection seeing that his stomach caved in with a sickening crunch. It laughed coldly, swearing to the faces that watched that it would not be the last they saw of him. “Hold her!” screamed the dark robed woman as she looked upon the stone in hand. Frowning for a moment she pocketed the object within her robes turning her attention towards those attempting to restrain the thrashing paladin. “I said hold her and get her out of her armor quick!” “Nah like we ain’ be try’in witch…” The troll huffed attempting to grab the other woman's’ fist. “She be thrashin’ too much in pain.” The so called witch nodded understandingly as the three heavy hitters went to task restraining their friend and teammate. Turning swiftly she grabbed the priestess before she reached, “Shh steel yourself little dove.” The woman thrashed in her arms as she held her still. “ Remember your training you need to see what the injuries are first… try to calm her if you can so we can get to work.” Astallia looked at the older blood elf then nodded before going over. Shivering she watched as the Shaman eventually removed the breastplate and belt of the Paladin. The now restrained blonde wouldn’t stop screaming, and it was clear to her eyes. Scorched was the once smooth pale skin, now bubbling in sickening hues of greens and near black with the chaotic decay of flesh. It took much for her not to faint from the burning smell of flesh. It smoldered and continued so. The Orc looked up setting aside the ruined armor and prepared the correct Totems at her side to aid in the ritual of healing. She knew these wounds well enough having seen enough damage caused by Warlocks of the old Horde. Thralls reign is different she found need to remind herself as she looked for the correct herbs and pouches. Blinking seeing a flower sprout beside her, the female orc looked up at the hulking figure now standing up. The druidess nodded using vines to help hold her ally still. Giving the Troll a moment to remove other bits of armor that was damaged beyond simple repair. “We will need to go to Shattrath.” She stated simply. “Once we can get her to stop screaming.” Her dark eyes scanned around noticing the dark robed elf had taken point to ensure no one interrupted them, “Let us work quick.”

~~~

Silence is the golden bell in the aftermath, be it by way of leather to flesh, the stiffness in one’s own arms in the wake of release. Or even in the subtle creaks of shifted weights upon that which was meant to support their weight. What matters in the silence is the care. Scented ointments that filled the nostrils of the other, reminding them that the games they played where out of love and trust, not the need to inflict pain upon the other. The Red Queen prefered the scent of lilacs while the Queen of White prefered the more masked scent of jasmine in the end. Even when one could not see due to games it was clear that this was whom they trusted. The sweet smell that followed also brought back memories of the deep sense of loss. A cold and harsh reminder that time would always be a factor between them. Their loss, their pain, it would be what made at least one of them who they are today.

~~~

First to truly fall would be the Troll. Died when trapped within a spell by a demon they attempted to bind at her own insistence. The paladin could never understood why, still it was done and failed. In her eyes they should have aborted but despite being a backbone to the group her opinions and thoughts on the matter was outweighed by the Witch. Whom never seemed to show any care towards the death, always spoke in hushed tones to the others but her. If they blamed her, she didn’t care. Her insides still smoldered despite the recovery of being healed. It was enough to drive her to madness at times but she kept the smile for the light of her life. The moments they held one another in their arms was enough to push the thoughts from the back of her mind. It would all happen to fast for her, resting at the camp in the night skies of the Netherstorm as it was dubbed. It wasn’t until the bear across from her shifted from her sleep and looked up sharply that the Paladin was roused. The blankets and bedding beside her empty since the first time in their travels. The Witch no where in view and the ghostly form of the Shaman’s own wolf like body already in full run towards the direction of the lights. By the time they all arrived it was over. The Witch crushed the demon in half and the Priestess laid prone at her feet. Unmoving, not breathing. The robes she wore slightly smoldered to ash with the heavy scent of fel in the already magic ravaged surroundings. No one could remember the words screamed that day. All of them tried to revive the priestess. All of them flailed. The Witch gave barely any response to what happened other than;

“She … got in they way of the spell.”

It was there amongst the purple crumbling rocks they had to leave her. Taking what they could to do a proper funeral in Shattrath. Against the wishes of the grieving paladin. Against what felt like better judgement. Taking what little they could of her to return home, finish what part of their war that they could. Once again the Witch showing nothing towards the Priestess’ death, not even the remote condolences towards her grieving loved one. The paladin remained in Shattrath both to grieve and recover. Returning to Quel’thalas despite the events on Quel’danas seemed inappropriate in her mind. It wasn't’ until the scourge appeared in the Outlands that some spark of any other emotion was shown. To her those days followed became a blur. Stone faced and silent any team she joined, she made no attempt to know. No attempt to bond. Her rage came out against the undead, much as it did the demons she used everything she learned from Outlands to ensure they -stayed- dead. As the Campaign against the Lich King pushed his forces back towards the hellish spire that jutted out from ice and snow, the paladin found herself drifting towards the Stormpeaks. Word of an Ancient terror caught wind to her attention and she went. In darkened halls she walked alone at some point separated by those she aided. Dark save for the glittering of lights above that mimicked an endless sea of stars. It was then she heard a voice, perhaps not a true voice but more of a choir. Yet one voice stood out amongst the rest, like a sweet lullabye she once heard in memories long forgotten.

When the blazing sun is gone, When the nothing shines upon,

Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night….

Lymia felt her hand along the wall lowering all weapons and shields towards the melodic sounds of the choir. Her eyes more relaxed than it had in months. Ulduar was fascinating. All the fighting above her had long grown silent, the defenses that had seemingly tried to keep all out and away no longer did so for her. She briefly thought about how she would have loved for another to see this. Only to remind herself of her loved one's passing, the burning sting of tears splattered her cheeks. Her pace faltered as it opened to a much larger chamber eerily filled by different lights with no true source, yet none bright enough to truly give much view of the chamber. Still the unseen choir’s voice rose up from within the darkness.

Then the traveler in the dark, Thanks you for your little spark,

He could not see which way to go, If you did not twinkle so…..

The air around her filled with a chill that should not be possible past the layers of her armor. Yet she found the edge of the shimmering pool and looked within. Kneeling she realised her thirst as if it had been the first time in ages, nearly centuries. She drank carefully finding her mind a buzz and her own voice joining a strange choir as all of her vision went to black. Walking felt different, talking felt different. It was like being out of her own body and yet being able to speak for it all in one go. The haze lasted for a while, the song occasionally echoing in her mind. Humming it while no one else was around, singing it in the moments beneath the stars. It broke eventually, the day the lands quaked with some unexplained tremble. Eyes that were once almost glazed over saw with clarity, the dark shape that blotted out the sun but for a moment. The raw power felt in that moment brought her to her knees once more. And for once in nearly a year, she smiled before covering her eyes and laughing as the Dragon known to the world as Deathwing continued his flight of madness across Azeroth’s landscape.

music for last bit here.

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