#elisewin

[late-to-the-fandom]

Daily Writing Challenge - February 2024

Throwing myself headfirst out of the moving car that is my many-months hiatus and into the roadside ditch that is writing again, I have challenged myself to write for the @daily-writing-challenge's February prompts every day this week. The goal: remember how writing - particularly finishing a piece of writing - works. These will all be snippets from Prince Renathal and companion's continued adventures in the Dragon Isles (full stories here). Will they be any good? Probably not. But they will be done (maybe).

Day 1: Flirt - 600 words, no warnings

The saviour of Azeroth and the Shadowlands, champion of the Horde, former archmage and famous Maw Walker lay her weary body back against the sun-warmed grass and closed her eyes with a final, defeated sigh.

The Dark Prince raised one eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Not giving up already, are you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed, pushing off the railing with a clunk of plate armour and descending the ancient stone staircase toward his motionless companion. “You cannot give up. I know you too well. You are incapable of accepting defeat.”

“First time for everything," was her petulant reply.

Renathal’s wordless disapproval was a masterful sound, full of throaty skepticism and dubiously clicking fangs. Elisewin refused to acknowledge it. Her eyes remained shut, limp arms drowned in the swaying grass, determinedly ignoring the vibrant butterflies fluttering curiously around her wild, windswept fan of dark hair.

Coming to a stop beside her would-be corpse, Renathal tried a different tact.

“An ignominious end for such an illustrious hero.” He announced the words like a eulogy, gesticulating elegantly to his audience of butterflies, who showed no obvious interest. “Imagine - grappling with gods, conquering whole armies, destroying any number of mountainous beasts, only to be beaten by -”

“It’s so stupid,” spat Elisewin suddenly from the ground. Her eyes snapped open in a blaze of blue-white fury. “It’s such a stupid, ridiculous test of an even more ridiculous practice, and I don’t see why I should have to learn it. I was perfectly happy with my old Undercity bat. Slow and steady. That thing -” She twisted her head to throw an accusatory glance at the proto-drake sniffing the bushes at the base of the nearby cliff. “It reacts to the slightest movement! I can’t even breathe without it changing direction. And it goes too fast!”

“I have never known you to mind fast. You usually request it,” remarked Renathal playfully.

Elisewin narrowed her eyes at him instead.

“Don’t flirt with me when I’m frustrated.”

Renathal laughed aloud at that. Mustering all her available dignity, Elisewin turned her face pointedly away from him and closed her eyes again.

“And I mean it. I’m done. I’ve tried sixteen times now, and I'm all over bruises. I am not trying it again. I’ll just walk everywhere.”

Wholly undaunted, Renathal swallowed the last of his laughter and fixed his tone into something that might have been mistaken for sympathy by someone who did not know him well.

“Very well, dearest, if you are certain." He stepped around her studiously still form and headed towards her waiting mount, calling behind him: “You can simply ride alongside me. I am happy to take the lead. I, personally, do not find the practice particularly taxing. Then again, I am much older, with a greater reservoir of power to draw from. You can hardly hold yourself to my standard."

A rustle of grass, a low groan, then a series of furious soft-soled footsteps assured Renathal this last hand had won. He turned expectantly, already holding out the proto-drake’s cracked leather reins. Elisewin snatched them from him. Her lavender glower as she swung one leg over the bulky creature's back only made Renathal smile.

“Ah,” he declared in affectionate triumph, propping himself against the rocky cliffside to watch his lover's seventeenth attempt. “That is the Maw Walker I know."

It was Elisewin’s turn to scoff. She wriggled uncomfortably, settling back into the saddle. Fixing her grim expression on the looming tower at the top of the cliff, she declared to the wilderness around them:

“I’d take the Maw over dragon riding any day.”

#daily writing challenge #wow fanfiction #dragon isles #renathal x maw walker #renathal fan fiction #prince renathal #fanfiction #world of warcraft #shadowlands #dragonflight #and there was only one dragon! #domestic fluff #elisewin #the maw walker #nightborne

[dameracrystmon]

Covenant Pattern Commission Venthyr frame Elisewin

RePost and Like=Thank you💜

Characters by @late-to-the-fandom

#Worldofwarcraft #Warcraft #Shadowlands #Elisewin #crossstitch #Dameracrossstitch #wow #fantasy #digital #embroidery #artist #nightborne #art #portrait #OC #character #Covenant #xtitch #Venthyr #commission #pattern #mage #xstitch #damera #cross stitch #handmade

[spidezer]

Fun OC fact: the Maw Walker Elisewin dislikes eating and always has. It’s a chore for her, that the people who care about her generally have to coerce her into doing. The invention of the smoothie (“I can drink food?”) is a game changer for her.

fun oc fact in return! due to growing up in extreme poverty until she was 12, sunny nercathi is an extreme food hoarder and will try to get her friends to do the same "just in case". she has an entire crate in her room just filled with ration bars stolen from various ships and food packs

#me and the maw walker elisewin 🤝

[perpassareiltempo]

Forse il mondo è una ferita e qualcuno la sta ricucendo in quei due corpi che si mescolano - e nemmeno è amore, questo è stupefacente, ma è mani, e pelle, labbra, stupore, sesso, sapore - tristezza, forse - perfino tristezza - desiderio - quando lo racconteranno non diranno la parola amore - mille parole diranno, taceranno amore - tace tutto, intorno, quando d'improvviso Elisewin sente la schiena spezzarsi e la mente sbiancare, stringe quell'uomo dentro, gli afferra le mani e pensa: morirò. Sente la schiena spezzarsi e la mente sbiancare, stringe quell'uomo dentro, gli afferra le mani e, vedi, non morirà.

Alessandro Baricco -  Oceano Mare

#il mondo è una ferita #ma magari può guarire #forever reblog #le cose che sarebbero molto belle #per niente piccole

[the-stray-storyteller]

Here is one fact for the game: the big secret behind way the Maw Walker Elisewin dislikes sleeping with other people around (in every universe) is chronic nightmares (usually to do with her sister’s death). She prefers to keep herself awake until she physically can’t then pass out. Decidedly unromantic.

Anne Gray from Havenpoint is an insomniac. Her sleep schedule if fucked up as hell. There are several instances where she has passed out at odd moment and found herself waking up an hour or two later. It is a problem she has had for a really long time and ever since she started attending Havenpoint it has gotten worse because she can feel something watching her when she tries to sleep.

#Havnepoint #ask game #answered asks

[fedeeffy96]

“Come si fa? Come glielo dici, a una donna così, quello che devi dirle?? Con le sue mani addosso e la sua pelle, la pelle... Come glielo dici a una ragazzina così,

quello che lei sa già e che pure bisognerà che ascolti, le parole,

una dopo l’altra, che puoi anche sapere ma devi ascoltare, prima o poi, qualcuno deve dirle e tu ascoltarle, lei, ascoltarle..

Quella ragazzina che dice "hai degli occhi che non ti ho visto mai" e poi.. "Se solo tu volessi, potresti salvarti"... Come glielo dici, a una donna così, che tu vorresti salvarti e ancora di più vorresti salvare lei con te e non fare altro che salvarla e salvarti, tutta una vita, ma non si può... Ognuno ha il suo viaggio, da fare...

E tra le braccia di una donna si finisce facendo strade contorte,

che neanche tanto capisci tu...

e al momento buono non le puoi raccontare, non hai le parole per farlo... parole che ci stiano bene, lì, tra quei baci e sulla pelle, parole giuste, non ce n’è... Hai un bel cercarle in quel che sei e in quel che hai sentito, non le trovi,

hanno sempre una musica sbagliata, è la musica che gli manca, lì, tra quei baci e sulla pelle, è una questione di musica.

Così poi dici una cosa, ma è una miseria..."Elisewin, io non sarò mai più salvo." Come glielo dici, a un uomo così, che adesso sono io che voglio insegnargli una cosa e tra le sue carezze, voglio fargli capire che il destino non è una catena ma un volo, e se solo ancora avesse voglia davvero di vivere lo potrebbe fare, e se solo avesse voglia davvero di me potrebbe riavere mille notti come questa invece di quell’unica, orribile, a cui va incontro, solo perché lei lo aspetta, la notte orrenda, e da anni lo chiama. Come glielo dici, a un uomo così, che diventare un assassino non servirà a nulla e a nulla servirà quel sangue e quel dolore, è solo un modo di correre a perdifiato verso la fine, quando il tempo e il mondo per non far finire nulla sono qui a aspettarci, e a chiamarci, se solo sapessimo ascoltarli, se solo lui potesse, davvero, davvero, ascoltarmi.

Come glielo dici, a un uomo così, che ti sta perdendo?”

Alessandro Baricco - Oceano Mare

[comeventoperleaquile]

"Volevo dire che io la voglio, la vita, farei qualsiasi cosa per poter averla, tutta quella che c’è, tanta da impazzirne, non importa, posso anche impazzire ma la vita quella non voglio perdermela, io la voglio, davvero, dovesse anche fare un male da morire è vivere che voglio" Oceano Mare -Alessandro Baricco

#oceano mare #elisewin #alessandro baricco #vita #book #sketch #frasi libri #frasi

[flowersandloneliness]

–E com'è?… Il mare, com'è? Sorride, Elisewin. –Bellissimo. –E poi? Non smette di sorridere, Elisewin. –A un certo punto, finisce.

Alessandro Baricco, Oceano Mare (via @solidentrountutto)

#alessandro baricco #citazioni #citazioni baricco #frasi #frasi baricco #oceano mare #elisewin #plasson #bartleboom #libri #libro #letteratura #parole

[lucy-ghoul]

Okay, Confession Time: a me Baricco piace(va) davvero

#okay ora vado a nascondermi. #ho letto solo oceano mare e novecento ma mi sono piaciuti tutti e due #almeno all'epoca... insomma avevo 16 anni #ma leggevo parecchio (anche più di adesso) #però ammetto che non è per tutti lol #il suo stile è pretenzioso al massimo #ma in quanto ragazzina gravemente mentally ill mi rivedevo un sacco in elisewin di oceano mare ok??? don't @ me 🙄🙄🙄🙄 #val speaks #italian stuff #txt

[maiktaylor]

Succede. Uno si fa dei sogni, roba sua, intima, e poi la vita non ci sta a giocarci insieme, e te li smonta, un attimo, una frase, e tutto si disfa. Succede. Mica per altro che vivere è un mestiere gramo. Tocca rassegnarsi. Non ha gratitudine, la vita, se capite cosa voglio dire.

Alessandro Baricco

#oceano mare #book #silenzio #baricco #sogni #locanda Almayer #plassons #thomas #elisewin

[late-to-the-fandom]

Daily Writing Challenge - February 2024

Day 3 of @daily-writing-challenge February challenge was not the fun, 30 minutes tops, carefree writing warm-up I promised myself these would be, but we got there in the end.

Day 3: Bargain - 1kish words, no warnings

The name of the sanctuary was Eon's Fringe. Another time, Renathal would have found this amusing. Now, he felt unpleasantly humbled. Heavy. His mind weighed down by the day's events and the new future they offered. Or, more accurately, the new past.

Leaving Elisewin safely sleeping, he crept out of the cramped inn and back through the small haven's vined and bejeweled archway. He nodded at the defenders on guard, who returned the gesture warily, and let his feet carry him to the stairs cut into the cliff's edge, just before the temperate autumnal forestland gave way to shifting sand.

He looked up. Truly, there was nowhere else to look. The massive, hovering platform - both too far to walk to and too tantalisingly close to ignore - commanded all eyes. And all Renathal's thoughts, as well. He only realised he was sitting when a stag beetle crawled across his hand, now resting on the smooth stone step beside him. He barely registered either sensation, preoccupied as he was.

This place… that staff… the infinite possibilities… the undeniable risks…

"I know what you're thinking."

Startled from his reverie, Renathal swiveled around and found Elisewin sitting on an upper step, watching him blandly, head propped on one hand.

"I knew you would do this. Knew you wouldn't be able to let it go."

There was no reproach in her words; no disappointment, no anger. Renathal returned his gaze to the conflux and contemplated it for another moment before replying:

"Can you?"

Elisewin did not answer, but Renathal felt the hem of her robe brush against his back as she slid closer. He swallowed - his throat was very dry; exactly how long had he sat here? - then finally spoke aloud the idea that had teased, tormented him all the last day.

"You must admit, it is a prospect certainly worthy of some consideration. Imagine - being able to stop all that conflict, that chaos from happening before it ever began. If I could overthrow Denathrius before he joined forces with the Jailer, just think how much destruction could be prevented - how much ruin undone. All those souls, gone, lost for eternity, and I - I could save them all."

Only the sudden, tentative hand on his shoulder made Renathal realise how loud his voice had risen. He broke off, inhaling sharply and superfluously through his nose, and pushed back the loose hairs that had fluttered across his face during his rant.

"Renathal," said Elisewin unaffectedly, sliding down another step to tuck herself next to him on his, "you know it wouldn't be that easy. If we learned anything from today's events, it's that. You have no idea what the repercussions would be, and that's only if you actually pulled it off. Putting aside the fact the dragons would probably catch you, you don't know when to go back to - how far back Denathrius' betrayal began. And even if you did, and by some miracle you managed it, events would likely still unfold just as they have. There are too many players involved, too many moving pieces. It's - it's just ... too enormous an event to try to change."

Elisewin's tone was patient, her arguments pragmatic. Renathal had to bite back the instinct to serve her some biting retort. She was right, and he knew it; his own better sense had run through all these same irrefutable lines of reasoning. But it made the truth no easier to bear. He remained obstinately silent, eyes still fixed on the looming temporal conflux and its tempting possibilities.

Until Elisewin added hesitantly:

"On the other hand…"

Renathal glanced down at her, surprised to find her own face turned to that enticing gold horizon.

"…I know exactly where I would need to go. And when. The exact date and time." She paused, as if debating whether or not to say any more, then continued in a breathless rush," And nothing of any real importance would be altered. Elisande would still die. It would just - just be a few weeks sooner. Everything else would be the same. No one would even have to know. The only difference would be my - my sister… she would still be alive."

"You think that is an alteration of no of importance?" asked Renathal, a slightly bitter edge to his voice. "Her death is the reason we are here at all. Had she lived, there would have been no reason for you to venture into the Shadowlands. No reason to save them - to save your allies - save me. And, certainly, no reason to stay."

"You don't know that," Elisewin argued. "I might have - there - there might have been… some way…" Her hands clenched against her robes in a sudden burst of frustration. "There has to be a way - a way to do both. To save her and you. To save everyone."

Renathal recognised the notes of desperation from his own impassioned speech. He wondered if his face had looked anything like his lover's did now: almost manic as it reflected the light of the conflux's golden glow. He shifted on the step until he was looking directly at her.

"There is... much we might save," Renathal admitted slowly. "And there is much at stake. If we managed to succeed, we risk... this moment. This existence. Is it worth it?"

He asked the question as much of Elisewin as himself.

A beat of silence pulsed between them, heavy with the memories of the last few, impossibly precious years. Then Elisewin, too, tore her eyes from the conflux and reached for Renathal's hand.

"No," she said fiercely, and gripped him like a lifeline. "No. No, it's not. Nothing is."

Some tumultuous emotion rose in Renathal's throat, and he found himself leaning in just as Elisewin looked up. Their lips met halfway. For a time that mattered more for its meaning than its minutes, they simply sat, anchoring each other to the present.

Elisewin broke first, pulling away just enough to meet Renathal's eyes.

"We need to make a pact," she said hoarsely. "A - a promise. To each other. That neither of us is going to - to run off later and - and try."

Renathal's eyebrows quirked in surprise - promises were something Elisewin very rarely offered.

"I will if you will," he agreed.

It took her a few seconds, and a deep, shuddering breath, but at last-

"I promise," she said.

Renathal nodded solemnly.

"Then, so do I."

Elisewin's smile was shaky, but her hands were not as she reached for Renathal's face and pressed her lips to his again. This was less kiss than confirmation, but no less meaningful for it. Bargain thus sealed, they sat, nestled silently together, breathing in each other's presence and the warm, tree-scented air. Then Renathal, suddenly as exhausted as if they fought some prolonged and devastating battle, stood up, pulling Elisewin with him, and together they put their backs to any other possibilities and began to climb the stairs.

#daily writing challenge #wow fanfiction #dragon isles #renathal x maw walker #renathal fan fiction #prince renathal #fanfiction #world of warcraft #shadowlands #dragonflight #and there was only one dragon! #domestic fluff #elisewin #the maw walker #nightborne

[vanitasvampireofthebluemoon]

@alicerowanwood let’s be clear: you can’t let me alone for three weeks.

#by elisewin

[questavitamodernamistressa]

Perché un pretesto per tornare bisogna sempre seminarselo dietro, quando si parte.

#questavitamodernamistressa #libri #oceano mare #alessandro baricco #citazioni baricco #frasi #frasi belle #frasi libri #citazioni libri #frasi baricco #elisewin #padre pluche

[perpassareiltempo]

(...) il mondo è una ferita e qualcuno la sta ricucendo in quei due corpi che si mescolano - e nemmeno è amore, questo è stupefacente, ma è mani, e pelle, labbra, stupore, sesso, sapore - tristezza, forse - perfino tristezza - desiderio - quando lo racconteranno non diranno la parola amore - mille parole diranno, taceranno amore - tace tutto, intorno, quando d'improvviso Elisewin sente la schiena spezzarsi e la mente sbiancare, stringe quell'uomo dentro, gli afferra le mani e pensa: morirò. Sente la schiena spezzarsi e la mente sbiancare, stringe quell'uomo dentro, gli afferra le mani e, vedi, non morirà.

Alessandro Baricco

#le cose molto belle #davvero #ricucire ferite nel modo migliore #nel mulino che ci vorrebbe

[kyda]

Ha 38 anni Bartleboom. Lui pensa che da qualche parte, nel mondo, incontrerà un giorno una donna che, da sempre, è la sua donna. Ogni tanto si rammarica che il destino si ostini a farlo attendere con tanta indelicata tenacia, ma col tempo ha imparato a considerare la cosa con grande serenità. Quasi ogni giorno, ormai da anni, prende la penna in mano e le scrive. Non ha nomi e non ha indirizzi da mettere nelle buste: ma ha una vita da raccontare. E a chi se non a lei? Lui pensa che quando si incontreranno sarà bello posarle sul grembo una scatola di mogano piena di lettere e dirle, “Ti aspettavo”. Lei aprirà la scatola e lentamente, quando vorrà leggerà le lettere, ad una ad una, e risalendo un chilometrico filo di inchiostro blu si prenderà gli anni, i giorni, gli istanti che quell’uomo, prima ancora di conoscerla, già le aveva regalato. O forse più semplicemente, capovolgerà la scatola e attonita davanti a quella buffa nevicata di lettere, sorriderà, dicendo a quell’uomo “Tu sei matto”.

E per sempre lo amerà.

… «Uno si costruisce grandi storie, questo è il fatto, e può andare avanti anni a crederci, non importa quanto pazze sono, e inverosimili, se le porta addosso, e basta. Si è anche felici, di cose del genere. Felici. E potrebbe non finire mai. Poi, un giorno, succede che si rompe qualcosa, nel cuore del gran marchingegno fantastico, tac, senza nessuna ragione, si rompe all’improvviso e tu rimani lì, senza capire come mai tutta quella favolosa storia non ce l’hai più addosso, ma davanti, come fosse la follia di un altro, e quell’altro sei tu. Tac. Alle volte basta un niente. Anche solo una domanda che affiora. Basta quello.

Madame Deveirà… io come farò a riconoscerla, quella donna, la mia, quando la incontrerò?»

Anche solo una domanda elementare che affiora dalle tane sotterranee in cui la si era sepolta. Basta quello.

“Come farò a riconoscerla, quando la incontrerò?”

Già

«Ma in tutti questi anni non ve lo siete mai domandato?»

«No. Sapevo che l’avrei riconosciuta, tutto qui. Ma adesso, ho paura. Ho paura che non sarò capace di capire. E lei passerà. E io la perderò».

Ha davvero addosso tutta la pena del mondo, il professor Bartleboom.

«Insegnatemelo voi, madame Deveirà, come farò a riconoscerla, quando la vedrò?»

Dorme, Elisewin, alla luce di una candela e di una bambina. E padre Pluche, tra le sue preghiere, e Plasson, nel bianco dei suoi quadri. Forse dorme perfino Adams, l’animale in caccia. Dorme la locanda Almayer, cullata dall’oceano mare.

«Chiudete gli occhi, Bartleboom, e datemi le vostre mani».

Bartleboom ubbidisce. E subito sente sotto le sue mani il volto di quella donna, e le labbra che giocano con le sue dita, e poi il collo sottile e la camicia che si apre, le mani di lei che guidano le sue lungo quella pelle calda e morbidissima, e se le stringono addosso, a sentire i segreti di quel corpo sconosciuto, a stringere quel calore, per poi risalire sulle spalle, tra i capelli, e di nuovo tra le labbra, dove le labbra scivolano avanti e indietro fino a quando non arriva una voce a fermarle e a scrivere nel silenzio:

«Guardatemi, Bartleboom»

La camicia le è scesa sul grembo. Gli occhi le sorridono senza nessun imbarazzo.

«Un giorno vedrete una donna e sentirete tutto questo senza nemmeno toccarla. Datele le vostre lettere. Le avete scritte per lei».

Ronzano mille cose, nella testa di Bartleboom, mentre ritrae le mani, tenendole aperte, come se a chiuderle scappasse tutto…

#kyda

[karensitalianlitblog]

Week 5 Blog

Ocean Sea

Alessandro Baricco

Pages Read: 20-60

Word Count: 327

Summary:

The three stories described in the previous reading have somehow now merged and correlated in differing ways, all connecting throughout the different sections. The professor or doctor of one of the previous chapters is meeting with the sick daughter of another narrator, and they are going to travel overseas in order to heal the girl of her illness, arriving at the sea where the initial painter narrator had been standing. The doctor who studies the sea meets a woman on the beach and takes her out to drink tea, where she asks to be healed of adultery. Though, the main plot of this reading follows the sick girl Elisewin and her risks in attaining a cure.

Critical Analysis:

Alessandro Baricco repeatedly and consistently uses many differing complex words or phrases in attempts to portray a deeper meaning behind almost every sentence written, such as how even "the rhythmic sound of the gardener's shears" is described to be reminiscent of "the certainty of Justice intent on handing down redeeming verdicts" (59). Baricco also tends to place great focus on seemingly smaller interactions, describing the slightest movements of the woman that the doctor meets with even her "teaspoon stirring the tea. Teaspoon coming to rest." This odd descriptive tendency perhaps shows that Baricco believes that even mundane details can be crucial in portraying a realistic event.

Personal Response:

I can't really figure out whether I like this book or if I find it boring. The wordy and extremely detailed descriptions of almost every sentence can sometimes leave me feeling like Alessandro Baricco simply wants to extend the length of the book, or that maybe he's diving too deeply into simple interactions so as to find something "deep." Some things I think are still very clever, like the moment with the teaspoon being hyper-focused on, but too much of this writing method can exhaust the overall reading can seem not repetitive but very unnecessary and overused. I will still be continuing the book, though.