Aleros voice echoed in Aelflaed's head as she sat on the edge of her bed.
Take the potion before bed. Before you do, find an object, simple and small, that you think your animal spirit will appreciate as an offering. Hold it tightly in your hand when you go to sleep and in your dreams you will encounter your animal spirit.
She looked over at the potion, sitting on her bedside table, and then down at her still empty hands.
An object, aye. Smallish, bu' t' please a spirit. Pfeh - if I ken wha' the spirit were, I'd ha' a better chance t' nae screw this up. She looked around, trying to think of what she could bring that would be useful and appreciated, but not so specific that she'd offend this spirit that was supposed to be bound to her.
Finally, her eyes landed on her box of herbs. Granted, not every creature would like a handful of goldthorn, but she could bring a small healing poultice of some kind - a mixture of herbs that a sentient animal spirit could use in case of injury. It sounded silly, thinking that way, but then the Dream was a strange place, and one where she did not feel entirely comfortable.
Half an hour or so later, she had in her hands a small bundle of herbs, wrapped with a bit of silken cord. 's nae much, bu' will ha' t' do. She held it tightly and drank the potion of Dreaming Lotus, sinking back into the soft embrace of blankets and sleep.
*****
She couldn't quite place where she ended up, but late afternoon in Grizzly Hills seemed like a good guess. Tall, fragrant pines in thickets, but with grassy clearings filled with flowers and goldclover. She wasn't quite sure what to do to find this spirit, but she figured a little exploring was in order, at least to get her bearings before the sun truly went down.
Overhead, a hawk circled and dove after some smaller prey, landing in a nearby tree with a squirrel in its talons.
Ye th' one I'm sent t' see?
No, Little Sister, though you love to fly as I do, keep walking.
So she walked on, past a thicket of old trees, noticing a spider starting to weave her web.
Ye th' one I'm sent t' see?
No, Little Sister, though you weave as I do, keep walking.
The wind kicked up as she approached a stream, and she hopscotched across the rocks, nearly falling in when she saw on the other bank a she-bear with two cubs.
Ye th' one I'm sent t' see?
No, Little Sister, though you protect your cubs as I do, keep walking.
So she walked - and grumbled. 's startin' t' be a bi' weary - 've foun' a fair lo' a critters, an' none t' talk to. Aleros better ken wha' he's on 'bout, or I'm like t' have sore feet an' be lost in' wherever th' hell this is. The trees broke in front of her, opening onto a large clearing blanketed with tall grasses. She'd come to the edge of the woods, and grassland stretched in a long fluid band to another forest nearly out of sight on the other side.
Vibrations started to tremor underfoot, and Aely looked to her left to see a band of wild horses running at full tilt - though without the usual fearful haste that she'd come to expect from the mustangs in Grizzly Hills. These horses were running just to run - to taste the wind. In their midst she saw a pair of yearling foals, one white and one red.
They turned, slightly, as they approached, giving her a bit of room away from the rush of hooves and tails and manes, and she smiled - until she felt, more than heard, the scream. One of the foals went down in a tumble of feet and ears and fur - and didn't get up. The band circled around the little one, facing outwards in a ring, and a great dappled mare called out to her.
Sister, you have healing about you - and I know why you are here. Will you help my foal?
Aely looked down at the herbs in her hand. Aye, if ye will le' me close t' see wha' I can or cannae do.
The mare nodded, giving some signal to the rest of the group, and they let her walk by untouched. The white foal was the one who had fallen, and one of his front legs was badly twisted.
Wha' did ye fin' tha' took ye down, wee one?
Brown eyes blinked back at her, but he didn't answer. She unbound the herbs and offered them carefully - one sprig at a time, to the colt, keeping up a steady soothing conversation. Dinnae ye fash, we'll ha' ye mended, wee one, jus' trus' onnit. Nibble a' these a' bi', an' I'll ha' ye up an' good's new 'fore ye ken. He calmed as the sound of her voice and the soothing herbs took affect. Aely carefully lay her hands on the leg, finding that while she couldn't exactly call on the Light here in the Dream, she found some healing when she drew for it, straightening the broken bones and letting the magic knit them whole again.
He shook himself, and slowly lurched to his feet, big ears and big eyes trained on her face as she continued speaking softly.
'spose I cannae tell ye t' stay off tha', bu' ye'll mend - jus' dinnae go stickin' ye feet in any more gopher holes, a'righ?
He shook his head and nuzzled her hand, took a hop or two to test his foreleg, and then scampered back to stand by his mother. The other foal tugged at the back of her tabard.
You are a surprising healer, Sister. The dappled mare gave her a piercing look.
Aely couldn't tell if she was speaking aloud or only in her head, but she lowered her eyes anyway, trying to think of a way to ask for this Dreaming Essence that Aleros needed. You came to offer what you could - and you have offered more than you know. I will give you what you seek. Come and run with us.
She stood for a moment, unsure, but as they began to run again, Aely found she could not contain her feet, taking off after them. In life, she could never have hoped to keep up, but here in the Dream she ran in their midst, her hair pulled out behind her by the rush of the wind, shining with the fire of the setting sun.
*****
When she woke, instead of the herbs, she found in her palm a carved wooden horse in full canter, mane and tail flying behind.
Your animal spirits
Moderator: Guild Officer
Re: Your animal spirits
[5.OOC] Beltar: Hammer of What The Fuck Were You Thinking
Re: Your animal spirits
((I'm late.. but I promised Ila I would write this up. So.. for her, here it is. 
))
Alishe held the peacebloom in her hand as she lay on her side. Thankfully Prydion had not asked her why she brought a flower to bed. Perhaps he hadn't noticed. Two slow deep breaths and she closed her eyes, attempting to relax her body. Her dreams had not be particularly enjoyable for a long time, so she was fighting off the dread of what she was about to attempt. "Think good things." She told herself as she tried to envision a field. A field of flowers. Reaching out a hand to touch them as she wandered past. Yes, that was a pleasant thought.
She wandered along, the flowers changing hue as she moved. Purple and blue. Yellow and red. Suddenly the grass was all she could see. A world of green filling her vision for as far as she could see. Alishe paused and glanced around, trying not to feel anxious as she waited to see what could come next. "Nothing bad. Nothing bad. Nothing... bad." The last word faltered as a very large red dragon appeared in her field of vision. "OH hells!" More frightened than she should have been considering her affiliation with the dragons of Wrymrest, Alishe found herself face down in the grass, arms over her head.
Unmoving, she whimpered and tried to catch her breath. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you? This is just a dream and you need to get a grip!" Her own voice loud and frustrated in her head. Just as she finally began to move, she felt something against her arm and nearly jumped. Fur. It was furry. Alishe lifted her head and blinked. Dragons weren't.. furry. Slowly, she raised herself upright and turned her head, staring in disbelief.
"Oh, Elune.. you have got to be kidding me."
The little prairie dog looked back, blinking it's eyes at her as it stood upright. Alishe brought herself up onto her knees and blinked back, looking at the small creature curiously. "So. You." A blink was exchanged between them once more. "You are.. my animal spirit?" A blade of grass was pushed into the tiny mouth. "Lovely." She sat back and sighed. "This explains so much about me." Alishe stretched her legs out in front of her, smoothing out the robe she wore. "So." She spoke and the creature's eyes did not leave hers, despite yet another blade of grass being nibbled. "Ermm." She glanced around, clearly struggling for how to have a conversation with this animal. "I would ask how you are, but I have a feeling you will not reply." Another blink. "Ok. Good. I'm fine too." Alishe cleared her throat and paused again. "So, I have a.. request. To ermm.. make." Her eyes shifted back and forth between the prairie dog and the grass. "I... I brought you something and I was wondering if you would perhaps bless me in return if you feel that is the right thing to do?"
She sighed deeply. "Oh who am I kidding? Aurora talks to animals. I do not!" She slumped back into the grass, laying on her back with a slight thud. "I am no good at this. I brought a flower. I don't even know if you like flowers. What if I got a bear? Bears don't like flowers. What was I thinking?" Her rambling rant was interrupted as the prairie dog ran over and sat upon her stomach, looking over at her face. "Ermm." A blink in response. "Hi." Alishe's forehead wrinkled as she looked fairly concerned. "So... flower. Yours. And.... whatever you want to give me back, would be very appreciated." Blink blink. "Ok?" The tiny hands reached out to take the flower she offered to it and then it scampered off.
"YOU'RE WELCOME?" She called off into the breeze and then she slowly shook her head, clearly in disbelief of the encounter she just had. "That was..."
"Things are not always as they seem, little one." The voice was familiar and made her shiver. "And you are most welcome." Alishe sat upright in bed, blinking her eyes repeatedly, trying to make sure she was awake. "Ok. Ok. Ok. That was bloody strange!" She turned and heard a clink on the floor. Beside her, Prydion groaned in his sleep and then turned on his side. She paused long enough to make sure he was settled and then reached over to see what fell. What her hand grasped was smooth and cold to the touch. She raised it up slowly and held it up into the bit of light she could catch from the window.
A tiny perfectly etched prairie dog stared back at her with unblinking eyes.
))Alishe held the peacebloom in her hand as she lay on her side. Thankfully Prydion had not asked her why she brought a flower to bed. Perhaps he hadn't noticed. Two slow deep breaths and she closed her eyes, attempting to relax her body. Her dreams had not be particularly enjoyable for a long time, so she was fighting off the dread of what she was about to attempt. "Think good things." She told herself as she tried to envision a field. A field of flowers. Reaching out a hand to touch them as she wandered past. Yes, that was a pleasant thought.
She wandered along, the flowers changing hue as she moved. Purple and blue. Yellow and red. Suddenly the grass was all she could see. A world of green filling her vision for as far as she could see. Alishe paused and glanced around, trying not to feel anxious as she waited to see what could come next. "Nothing bad. Nothing bad. Nothing... bad." The last word faltered as a very large red dragon appeared in her field of vision. "OH hells!" More frightened than she should have been considering her affiliation with the dragons of Wrymrest, Alishe found herself face down in the grass, arms over her head.
Unmoving, she whimpered and tried to catch her breath. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you? This is just a dream and you need to get a grip!" Her own voice loud and frustrated in her head. Just as she finally began to move, she felt something against her arm and nearly jumped. Fur. It was furry. Alishe lifted her head and blinked. Dragons weren't.. furry. Slowly, she raised herself upright and turned her head, staring in disbelief.
"Oh, Elune.. you have got to be kidding me."
The little prairie dog looked back, blinking it's eyes at her as it stood upright. Alishe brought herself up onto her knees and blinked back, looking at the small creature curiously. "So. You." A blink was exchanged between them once more. "You are.. my animal spirit?" A blade of grass was pushed into the tiny mouth. "Lovely." She sat back and sighed. "This explains so much about me." Alishe stretched her legs out in front of her, smoothing out the robe she wore. "So." She spoke and the creature's eyes did not leave hers, despite yet another blade of grass being nibbled. "Ermm." She glanced around, clearly struggling for how to have a conversation with this animal. "I would ask how you are, but I have a feeling you will not reply." Another blink. "Ok. Good. I'm fine too." Alishe cleared her throat and paused again. "So, I have a.. request. To ermm.. make." Her eyes shifted back and forth between the prairie dog and the grass. "I... I brought you something and I was wondering if you would perhaps bless me in return if you feel that is the right thing to do?"
She sighed deeply. "Oh who am I kidding? Aurora talks to animals. I do not!" She slumped back into the grass, laying on her back with a slight thud. "I am no good at this. I brought a flower. I don't even know if you like flowers. What if I got a bear? Bears don't like flowers. What was I thinking?" Her rambling rant was interrupted as the prairie dog ran over and sat upon her stomach, looking over at her face. "Ermm." A blink in response. "Hi." Alishe's forehead wrinkled as she looked fairly concerned. "So... flower. Yours. And.... whatever you want to give me back, would be very appreciated." Blink blink. "Ok?" The tiny hands reached out to take the flower she offered to it and then it scampered off.
"YOU'RE WELCOME?" She called off into the breeze and then she slowly shook her head, clearly in disbelief of the encounter she just had. "That was..."
"Things are not always as they seem, little one." The voice was familiar and made her shiver. "And you are most welcome." Alishe sat upright in bed, blinking her eyes repeatedly, trying to make sure she was awake. "Ok. Ok. Ok. That was bloody strange!" She turned and heard a clink on the floor. Beside her, Prydion groaned in his sleep and then turned on his side. She paused long enough to make sure he was settled and then reached over to see what fell. What her hand grasped was smooth and cold to the touch. She raised it up slowly and held it up into the bit of light she could catch from the window.
A tiny perfectly etched prairie dog stared back at her with unblinking eyes.
"We're all just dancers on the Devil's Dance Floor." ~ Flogging Molly
Re: Your animal spirits
The Underbelly was hot. Muggy air filled with the stench of old magic did nothing to cool it. The heat generated from the chained fire elementals kept Dalaran safe from the chill of Northrend, but at the expense of the comfort of the city's less respectable citizens. The Jester stepped carefully on the mold covered wooden planks, the small bells on his hat jingling. He kept a tight hold on the satchel at his side. Someone had stolen its contents in the first place, and he didn't want to be out the few hundred gold he'd paid if it was lifted a second time.
The crowd at Cantrips and Crows was light that evening. A few furtive figures, wrapped in dark robes and cloaks, made conversation in the dim light. As the Jester walked up the gangplank, a few of them nodded in recognition. Old customers. He paused at the top of the plank and dabbed at his brow with an overlong sleeve, wiping the sweat from his tattooed face. The gangly man took a deep breath and gathered his resolve before making his way to a table in the back. As he walked past the other patrons toward the back, Jester saw eyes widen in surprise. He snorted. Gold Is Clean. His words, famous in the Underbelly. He'd built his reputation on dealing with anyone about anything. Gold carries no religion, political affiliation, or history. It all spends the same.
Occupying the only chair at the last table on the pier was a figure wrapped in a tatted swaddling of brown cloth. A few spikes and angles of plated armour poked through the cloth. Wisps of mist rose from the figure, and as the Jester approached, an icy frost curled around his ankles, chilling him. He lifted the satchel from his shoulder and set it carefully on the table.
"Here it is, safe and sound. It was going for a pretty steep price on the Night Market, so I've had to raise my fee slightly. It's an even 500." The Jester took a step back, shaking his ankles a bit to try and rid them of their numbness. The seated figure reached out a gauntleted hand and pulled the satchel across the table before looking inside. The Jester held his breath, waiting for a response.
The figure stood, swinging the satched over its shoulder. "Thank you. You have done an admirable job in a short time frame. I believe you will find this to be worth more than your fee. Consider the excess a bonus for your speedy delivery." Cloth rustled as the figure reached into a pouch at its side and pulled for a great ruby, larger than the Jester's fist. The gem rattled a bit as the figure set it on the table. The Jester could see a frosted handprint left on the smooth red surface that quickly melted away in the heat.
"Where did you get this?" The raggamuffin man said, but the figure was already past him, moving through the curio shoppe. He shrugged, picked up the gem, and pocketed it, content that once again his philosophy of the world had brought him a good day's profit. Gold Is Clean.
***************************************************************
Uthas stared at the stoppered vial. The greenish liquid inside moved sluggishly, turned nearly to syrup by his chill. He sat on the edge of a stone bier, deep underneath a forgotten barrow. Bloodstains and a shattered shield decorated the floor nearby. Whatever vrykul had once slept here needed it no more. The death knight lay back on the cold stone, and gripped a small copy of "The Light and How To Swing It". He closed his eyes, uncorked the vial with a thumb, and poured the liquid into his mouth.
Hours later, he opened his eyes. No sleep, no dreams had overtaken him. He simply lay still, unmoving, unbreathing, yet aware, praying to the Light that rest would find him. Sometime during his stay in the barrow the book in his hands had faded away, simply slowly ceasing to be. Yet, no dreams had come, no animal had visited him. No idol was left. Only time and emptiness, alone in the dark. Uthas sat up on the cold stone. The night passed as he stared at his empty hands.
The crowd at Cantrips and Crows was light that evening. A few furtive figures, wrapped in dark robes and cloaks, made conversation in the dim light. As the Jester walked up the gangplank, a few of them nodded in recognition. Old customers. He paused at the top of the plank and dabbed at his brow with an overlong sleeve, wiping the sweat from his tattooed face. The gangly man took a deep breath and gathered his resolve before making his way to a table in the back. As he walked past the other patrons toward the back, Jester saw eyes widen in surprise. He snorted. Gold Is Clean. His words, famous in the Underbelly. He'd built his reputation on dealing with anyone about anything. Gold carries no religion, political affiliation, or history. It all spends the same.
Occupying the only chair at the last table on the pier was a figure wrapped in a tatted swaddling of brown cloth. A few spikes and angles of plated armour poked through the cloth. Wisps of mist rose from the figure, and as the Jester approached, an icy frost curled around his ankles, chilling him. He lifted the satchel from his shoulder and set it carefully on the table.
"Here it is, safe and sound. It was going for a pretty steep price on the Night Market, so I've had to raise my fee slightly. It's an even 500." The Jester took a step back, shaking his ankles a bit to try and rid them of their numbness. The seated figure reached out a gauntleted hand and pulled the satchel across the table before looking inside. The Jester held his breath, waiting for a response.
The figure stood, swinging the satched over its shoulder. "Thank you. You have done an admirable job in a short time frame. I believe you will find this to be worth more than your fee. Consider the excess a bonus for your speedy delivery." Cloth rustled as the figure reached into a pouch at its side and pulled for a great ruby, larger than the Jester's fist. The gem rattled a bit as the figure set it on the table. The Jester could see a frosted handprint left on the smooth red surface that quickly melted away in the heat.
"Where did you get this?" The raggamuffin man said, but the figure was already past him, moving through the curio shoppe. He shrugged, picked up the gem, and pocketed it, content that once again his philosophy of the world had brought him a good day's profit. Gold Is Clean.
***************************************************************
Uthas stared at the stoppered vial. The greenish liquid inside moved sluggishly, turned nearly to syrup by his chill. He sat on the edge of a stone bier, deep underneath a forgotten barrow. Bloodstains and a shattered shield decorated the floor nearby. Whatever vrykul had once slept here needed it no more. The death knight lay back on the cold stone, and gripped a small copy of "The Light and How To Swing It". He closed his eyes, uncorked the vial with a thumb, and poured the liquid into his mouth.
Hours later, he opened his eyes. No sleep, no dreams had overtaken him. He simply lay still, unmoving, unbreathing, yet aware, praying to the Light that rest would find him. Sometime during his stay in the barrow the book in his hands had faded away, simply slowly ceasing to be. Yet, no dreams had come, no animal had visited him. No idol was left. Only time and emptiness, alone in the dark. Uthas sat up on the cold stone. The night passed as he stared at his empty hands.
A rhombus is the kind of rectangle a bitch would draw.
Animal Spirits: Varenna, who has Issues
Varenna sat on the edge of her bed in her underwear, staring timidly at the glowing green bottle. She'd been putting this off.
It might be poison.
I might be allergic.
It won't work.
I'll screw up.
They'll all hate me.
She closed her eyes.
If it works, I'll have done a good thing.
She opened her eyes again and gave the bottle a glare, gave herself a nod. She popped the lid off with her thumb. What was the worst that could happen?
The worst that could happen is it will turn out to be liquid Plague. The most recent strains of the Plague have acidic properties, which means it will burn my tongue and throat and prevent me calling for help, and as the poisons enter my blood stream the shock of it to my body will paralyze me...
...As a paladin I have extra protection against the Plague, which means the necromantic magics won't kill me; instead I'll have to wait for my stomach to be corroded. Eventually, after I vomit the remains of my digestive system, destroying the rest of my throat and most of my face in the process, I'll slowly bleed to death...
...Then I'll rise as a ghoul and kill everyone else in the inn, then they'll rise, creating a Plague infestation significant enough to threaten the rest of the Silver Enclave, then all of Dalaran...
...If the Kirin Tor doesn't react in time the city will be overrun. There will be pockets of resistance centered around the Underbelly and the Citadel, but defenders will be too busy fighting for their lives to renew the magic keeping the city afloat, and it will crash to the ground and probably explode...
...The explosion won't be enough to breach the walls of Icecrown Citadel, but it will level the mountains to the north, burying Argent Pinnacle in thousands of tons of rock and ice. With the combined loss of the Kirin Tor and the Argent Crusade, the offensive against the Scourge will falter and fail. The Lich King will resecure Icecrown, then launch a counterattack...
...The Horde and Alliance will be forced to allocate all their remaining military forces for defense, withdrawing from secondary objectives such as Coldarra. With the loss of outside support, the Wyrmrest Accord will be outmatched by the Blue Flight. Magehunters will purge Borean Tundra, then Sholazar and Wintergrasp. With the aid of the Titan relics from the latter two locations, Malygos will defeat Arthas and the Scourge in Icecrown, but not before Arthas turns him into a dracolich...
...The newly undead Blue Flight will then sweep south through Crystalsong, feeding on the latent magic that was already there as well as the significant amounts of fallout energy that would be left after Dalaran's destruction, then into Dragonblight, where Malygos will destroy Wyrmrest Temple. Alexstrasza will be slain and raised as Malygos's undead consort, then Ysera and Nozdormu will fall and be raised as well, and the remnants of the Black Flight will be unable to stand alone against Malygos and the new combined might of the Plague Flight...
...Even if Deathwing turns out to still be alive and becomes involved, an undead Malygos would probably be able to defeat him all by himself, let alone with the aid of the newly enslaved other Aspects...
...Then Malygos will finish redirecting the ley lines to the Nexus, and destroy the whole world...
...Outland will be fine, though.
Varenna's knuckles went white around the bottle. She curled her legs onto the bed, trembling.
Quit whining and drink it, stupid.
She whimpered and bit on her lip. Her eyes flickered to the door. She'd locked it already, and ghouls were notoriously bad at handling doorknobs. If she did turn into one, she'd be trapped in her room until Caile returned from the party she was at, and then Caile could kill her. Caile could handle a ghoul.
She closed her eyes and swallowed the potion. It wasn't liquid Plague. She smiled in relief, letting her shoulders slump, and slipped to her feet off the bed. The druid had said to bring an offering with her, so she'd acquired a block of cheese. Her spirit animal was sure to be a mouse or some other kind of rodent, something timid - she knew herself that well, at least - so it would probably like cheese.
...If she even had a spirit animal. She probably didn't. If she did it was probably a mouse.
Now where did I leave that cheese?
"Squawrk."
"Huh?"
She turned. The phoenix hatchling squawked at her again like a log being thrown onto a bonfire, then fluttered down from her windowsill and hovered around her feet. She flinched at the sudden heat.
"What?"
"Squawrk."
The bird nipped at her toes.
"Ow! This isn't a good time, Gen."
It paused, dropped to the floor, floorboards smoldering underneath it, and stared up at her.
"SQUAWK!"
"Alright! Light..." She turned again and reached into the bucket of coal she kept for phoenix treats on her nightstand. "Here."
She bent on one knee and held the chunk of coal out in her palm. Awkward on the ground, moving with the same level of grace as a beached whale, the phoenix shuffled forward and tilted its head to inspect the coal.
It made a face, flapped its wings, and zoomed back out the open window. "Bleck!"
"Hey!"
Varenna stared at the coal still making soot marks on her palm, and whimpered.
Did I get the wrong kind..?
She sighed, then shrugged. She would throw out the unapproved-of coal in the morning, clean the bucket a few times, and - no, she'd be better off just getting a new bucket if it was the wrong kind of coal, there'd be residue everywhere no matter what she did; the old bucket would have to be burned, that was all there was to it - and then get new coal. Different coal. More expensive. Then the phoenix might like her again.
...What am I forgetting? Oh DAMN.
She lurched to her feet. She hadn't gotten the cheese for her spirit animal yet! It was lucky the Dreaming Lotus potion was acting so slowly, or there might not have been time to-
Her face made a whumph! noise on the pillow as, eyes slammed forcibly shut, still clutching a piece of coal in her fist, the paladin keeled sideways and sprawled unconscious on her bed.
---
Varenna's eyes drifted open. As the heat waves rose around her, she stared up into a curving sky of crumbling rock.
That can't be right.
She scrambled to her feet and regretted it. The ground - if it was ground - was so hot it scorched her heels. Had something gone wrong? Had she taken the wrong potion? Surely this wasn't the right dream. She yelped and shifted her weight to her toes, then whimpered as they started to turn red. She hopped futilely up and down, wishing desperately she had worn a pair of-
The plated boots fit snugly up to her knees. They crunched on the smoldering brown earth as she landed from another hop. She stared down at them, head tilted to one side in deep thought, then closed her eyes.
I wish I had also-
She felt the rest of her armor as it flickered into place from her legs up to her neck. Her gauntleted right hand rose and touched the hilt of her sword as it rose over her shoulder, then reached a little further and and gripped the curve of her shield. The weight of her equipment was comforting, even as it cooked her in the heat. She felt safe now; she could think. She looked around.
The world was an endless lake of boiling flame. The only ground was oozing tar and melting rock, scattered at random as if it had been dropped...
It had. She watched as a massive boulder fell through darkness from the earthen sky, splattering heat and ash before settling into place on the surface. She looked at her feet again, then under them, and realized she was standing on similar fallen rock. She sighed.
She was dreaming; she had to be. The sudden appearance of her armor was confirmation of that, as was the way the world twisted around her when she moved, like wet paint smearing across a kaleidoscope lens. But she also recognized where she was. With ground made of fire and a sky made of earth, anyone would.
Why am I in the Firelands?
She had obviously done something wrong. She was supposed to be meeting an animal of some sort, not standing melting in the most hellish layer of the Elemental Plane. Even if everything was going like it was supposed to, what kind of animal would live here? Not anything that would like cheese, that was certain.
She stared up at Deephome, watching it crumble, and wondered what she should do.
She felt the additional heat of the creature's breath first, then heard its crackling flames. That she could think of, none of the Firelands' inhabitants were known to be friendly. Moving slowly, she brought her hand up to her sword. The other hand... She blinked and opened it. Inexplicably, the waking world's unwanted chunk of coal was still nestled in her palm. She frowned at it disapprovingly, dropped it, reached back for her shield, and spun. Her sword made a sharp silver noise through the air as it was drawn. The creature's roar scorched her eyebrows.
"SSQUUUUUAAAAAAAAAWWWRRRRRRK."
She stared, stunned, into the eyes of the phoenix. It stared back at her. It wasn't her phoenix - it definitely wasn't hers. Her pet was a hatchling, only a pair of feet across at its angriest. This phoenix's burning wings stretched thirty feet from tip to tip, and roasted the air as they measured slow beats to keep it aloft. Golden spines the size of spears protruded from its back. Its furnace-red eyes put the work of the finest fire mages to shame, and they were focused on her...
The unwelcoming environment was beginning to make more sense.
"Er... h-hi...?"
Fully adult in its natural habitat, the dream phoenix opened its fiery beak, slowly, and roared again. Varenna hid behind her shield, whimpering.
"You can't be my spirit animal. Y-you're supposed to be a mouse, or..."
Another roar. The phoenix disapproved of the accusation of being a mouse. Varenna retreated a step back.
"Sorry! S-sorry, I-I'm sorry!"
The phoenix seemed to be waiting for something. Realization dawned.
"I was supposed to bring you an offering... Oh. I-I'm so sorry, I-- I had a piece of cheese, but..." Varenna's eyes dropped to her feet; she bit her lip. "You probably wouldn't have liked that anyway, I guess. Er... Please don't eat me..."
The phoenix roared again. This time it sounded confused, so far as a giant oven could sound confused. The massive eyes flickered downward.
"I don't have anything for you, I'm sorry..." She whimpered. "I didn't even bring anything with me, except-"
Time was kind enough to slow for Varenna's brain to catch up with the plot.
"Oh."
She knelt in the dirt and retrieved the discarded coal, then held it out in her palm. The bird rushed at her, and her dream disappeared in heat and flame.
---
Crunch.
Varenna drifted towards awake, with cold toes and a crooked neck and sore muscles. The gentle voice in her ears was softer now, distant. She thought it was saying "Thank you."
Crunch.
"Mmmnn...?"
Crunch crunch crunch crunch.
Her eyes flicked open. Her toes were cold, her neck was crooked, and her muscles were sore.
I fell asleep without making it under my blankets again.
CRUNCH crunch crunch crunch.
She rolled over on her elbow, and yelped as her phoenix hatchling's tail feathers caught her hair on fire. The Light's shield doused the fire and lifted her up off the bed. She floated coccooned in the middle of it, hugging her knees and watching the phoenix as leftover smoke drifted around her head.
The bird's head darted into the bucket on her nightstand again. Another piece of coal was crunched and swallowed. The bucket was nearly empty; more smoke was coming off the phoenix's back in thick waves, then gathering on Varenna's ceiling. She let her bubble fade away and dropped to her knees on the bed.
"Gen."
The phoenix's head popped up out of the bucket. It tried to coo at her with a beak full of coal. "Mmrmf?"
"Come."
Flames trailed on the air as the phoenix flew to her wrist. She closed her eyes a moment, and soft light flickered along her skin, keeping the worst of the heat from reaching her. She stroked the phoenix's neck with her fingers. "I thought you didn't like this coal, Gen. Were you just messing with me?"
"Mrmf." It crunched and gulped the coal in its beak, then trilled at her cutely. She smiled and planted a kiss on its burning forehead.
"I had a dream about one of your cousins. You're going to grow to be frighteningly large someday. She was very pretty, but it wasn't the dream I was supposed to have. I was supposed to meet my animal spirit and give it..." She paused, frowned. The hand attached to the wrist bearing the weight of the phoenix was still closed around a lump of something. She opened it.
The diamond statuette rose glistening in flight, wings stretched and beak opened for a roar. It was tiny, but the proportions clearly portrayed an adult bird, spines and all. Gen leaned in to examine it, and it blazed with reflected flames. Varenna stared at it.
"Oh."
It might be poison.
I might be allergic.
It won't work.
I'll screw up.
They'll all hate me.
She closed her eyes.
If it works, I'll have done a good thing.
She opened her eyes again and gave the bottle a glare, gave herself a nod. She popped the lid off with her thumb. What was the worst that could happen?
The worst that could happen is it will turn out to be liquid Plague. The most recent strains of the Plague have acidic properties, which means it will burn my tongue and throat and prevent me calling for help, and as the poisons enter my blood stream the shock of it to my body will paralyze me...
...As a paladin I have extra protection against the Plague, which means the necromantic magics won't kill me; instead I'll have to wait for my stomach to be corroded. Eventually, after I vomit the remains of my digestive system, destroying the rest of my throat and most of my face in the process, I'll slowly bleed to death...
...Then I'll rise as a ghoul and kill everyone else in the inn, then they'll rise, creating a Plague infestation significant enough to threaten the rest of the Silver Enclave, then all of Dalaran...
...If the Kirin Tor doesn't react in time the city will be overrun. There will be pockets of resistance centered around the Underbelly and the Citadel, but defenders will be too busy fighting for their lives to renew the magic keeping the city afloat, and it will crash to the ground and probably explode...
...The explosion won't be enough to breach the walls of Icecrown Citadel, but it will level the mountains to the north, burying Argent Pinnacle in thousands of tons of rock and ice. With the combined loss of the Kirin Tor and the Argent Crusade, the offensive against the Scourge will falter and fail. The Lich King will resecure Icecrown, then launch a counterattack...
...The Horde and Alliance will be forced to allocate all their remaining military forces for defense, withdrawing from secondary objectives such as Coldarra. With the loss of outside support, the Wyrmrest Accord will be outmatched by the Blue Flight. Magehunters will purge Borean Tundra, then Sholazar and Wintergrasp. With the aid of the Titan relics from the latter two locations, Malygos will defeat Arthas and the Scourge in Icecrown, but not before Arthas turns him into a dracolich...
...The newly undead Blue Flight will then sweep south through Crystalsong, feeding on the latent magic that was already there as well as the significant amounts of fallout energy that would be left after Dalaran's destruction, then into Dragonblight, where Malygos will destroy Wyrmrest Temple. Alexstrasza will be slain and raised as Malygos's undead consort, then Ysera and Nozdormu will fall and be raised as well, and the remnants of the Black Flight will be unable to stand alone against Malygos and the new combined might of the Plague Flight...
...Even if Deathwing turns out to still be alive and becomes involved, an undead Malygos would probably be able to defeat him all by himself, let alone with the aid of the newly enslaved other Aspects...
...Then Malygos will finish redirecting the ley lines to the Nexus, and destroy the whole world...
...Outland will be fine, though.
Varenna's knuckles went white around the bottle. She curled her legs onto the bed, trembling.
Quit whining and drink it, stupid.
She whimpered and bit on her lip. Her eyes flickered to the door. She'd locked it already, and ghouls were notoriously bad at handling doorknobs. If she did turn into one, she'd be trapped in her room until Caile returned from the party she was at, and then Caile could kill her. Caile could handle a ghoul.
She closed her eyes and swallowed the potion. It wasn't liquid Plague. She smiled in relief, letting her shoulders slump, and slipped to her feet off the bed. The druid had said to bring an offering with her, so she'd acquired a block of cheese. Her spirit animal was sure to be a mouse or some other kind of rodent, something timid - she knew herself that well, at least - so it would probably like cheese.
...If she even had a spirit animal. She probably didn't. If she did it was probably a mouse.
Now where did I leave that cheese?
"Squawrk."
"Huh?"
She turned. The phoenix hatchling squawked at her again like a log being thrown onto a bonfire, then fluttered down from her windowsill and hovered around her feet. She flinched at the sudden heat.
"What?"
"Squawrk."
The bird nipped at her toes.
"Ow! This isn't a good time, Gen."
It paused, dropped to the floor, floorboards smoldering underneath it, and stared up at her.
"SQUAWK!"
"Alright! Light..." She turned again and reached into the bucket of coal she kept for phoenix treats on her nightstand. "Here."
She bent on one knee and held the chunk of coal out in her palm. Awkward on the ground, moving with the same level of grace as a beached whale, the phoenix shuffled forward and tilted its head to inspect the coal.
It made a face, flapped its wings, and zoomed back out the open window. "Bleck!"
"Hey!"
Varenna stared at the coal still making soot marks on her palm, and whimpered.
Did I get the wrong kind..?
She sighed, then shrugged. She would throw out the unapproved-of coal in the morning, clean the bucket a few times, and - no, she'd be better off just getting a new bucket if it was the wrong kind of coal, there'd be residue everywhere no matter what she did; the old bucket would have to be burned, that was all there was to it - and then get new coal. Different coal. More expensive. Then the phoenix might like her again.
...What am I forgetting? Oh DAMN.
She lurched to her feet. She hadn't gotten the cheese for her spirit animal yet! It was lucky the Dreaming Lotus potion was acting so slowly, or there might not have been time to-
Her face made a whumph! noise on the pillow as, eyes slammed forcibly shut, still clutching a piece of coal in her fist, the paladin keeled sideways and sprawled unconscious on her bed.
---
Varenna's eyes drifted open. As the heat waves rose around her, she stared up into a curving sky of crumbling rock.
That can't be right.
She scrambled to her feet and regretted it. The ground - if it was ground - was so hot it scorched her heels. Had something gone wrong? Had she taken the wrong potion? Surely this wasn't the right dream. She yelped and shifted her weight to her toes, then whimpered as they started to turn red. She hopped futilely up and down, wishing desperately she had worn a pair of-
The plated boots fit snugly up to her knees. They crunched on the smoldering brown earth as she landed from another hop. She stared down at them, head tilted to one side in deep thought, then closed her eyes.
I wish I had also-
She felt the rest of her armor as it flickered into place from her legs up to her neck. Her gauntleted right hand rose and touched the hilt of her sword as it rose over her shoulder, then reached a little further and and gripped the curve of her shield. The weight of her equipment was comforting, even as it cooked her in the heat. She felt safe now; she could think. She looked around.
The world was an endless lake of boiling flame. The only ground was oozing tar and melting rock, scattered at random as if it had been dropped...
It had. She watched as a massive boulder fell through darkness from the earthen sky, splattering heat and ash before settling into place on the surface. She looked at her feet again, then under them, and realized she was standing on similar fallen rock. She sighed.
She was dreaming; she had to be. The sudden appearance of her armor was confirmation of that, as was the way the world twisted around her when she moved, like wet paint smearing across a kaleidoscope lens. But she also recognized where she was. With ground made of fire and a sky made of earth, anyone would.
Why am I in the Firelands?
She had obviously done something wrong. She was supposed to be meeting an animal of some sort, not standing melting in the most hellish layer of the Elemental Plane. Even if everything was going like it was supposed to, what kind of animal would live here? Not anything that would like cheese, that was certain.
She stared up at Deephome, watching it crumble, and wondered what she should do.
She felt the additional heat of the creature's breath first, then heard its crackling flames. That she could think of, none of the Firelands' inhabitants were known to be friendly. Moving slowly, she brought her hand up to her sword. The other hand... She blinked and opened it. Inexplicably, the waking world's unwanted chunk of coal was still nestled in her palm. She frowned at it disapprovingly, dropped it, reached back for her shield, and spun. Her sword made a sharp silver noise through the air as it was drawn. The creature's roar scorched her eyebrows.
"SSQUUUUUAAAAAAAAAWWWRRRRRRK."
She stared, stunned, into the eyes of the phoenix. It stared back at her. It wasn't her phoenix - it definitely wasn't hers. Her pet was a hatchling, only a pair of feet across at its angriest. This phoenix's burning wings stretched thirty feet from tip to tip, and roasted the air as they measured slow beats to keep it aloft. Golden spines the size of spears protruded from its back. Its furnace-red eyes put the work of the finest fire mages to shame, and they were focused on her...
The unwelcoming environment was beginning to make more sense.
"Er... h-hi...?"
Fully adult in its natural habitat, the dream phoenix opened its fiery beak, slowly, and roared again. Varenna hid behind her shield, whimpering.
"You can't be my spirit animal. Y-you're supposed to be a mouse, or..."
Another roar. The phoenix disapproved of the accusation of being a mouse. Varenna retreated a step back.
"Sorry! S-sorry, I-I'm sorry!"
The phoenix seemed to be waiting for something. Realization dawned.
"I was supposed to bring you an offering... Oh. I-I'm so sorry, I-- I had a piece of cheese, but..." Varenna's eyes dropped to her feet; she bit her lip. "You probably wouldn't have liked that anyway, I guess. Er... Please don't eat me..."
The phoenix roared again. This time it sounded confused, so far as a giant oven could sound confused. The massive eyes flickered downward.
"I don't have anything for you, I'm sorry..." She whimpered. "I didn't even bring anything with me, except-"
Time was kind enough to slow for Varenna's brain to catch up with the plot.
"Oh."
She knelt in the dirt and retrieved the discarded coal, then held it out in her palm. The bird rushed at her, and her dream disappeared in heat and flame.
---
Crunch.
Varenna drifted towards awake, with cold toes and a crooked neck and sore muscles. The gentle voice in her ears was softer now, distant. She thought it was saying "Thank you."
Crunch.
"Mmmnn...?"
Crunch crunch crunch crunch.
Her eyes flicked open. Her toes were cold, her neck was crooked, and her muscles were sore.
I fell asleep without making it under my blankets again.
CRUNCH crunch crunch crunch.
She rolled over on her elbow, and yelped as her phoenix hatchling's tail feathers caught her hair on fire. The Light's shield doused the fire and lifted her up off the bed. She floated coccooned in the middle of it, hugging her knees and watching the phoenix as leftover smoke drifted around her head.
The bird's head darted into the bucket on her nightstand again. Another piece of coal was crunched and swallowed. The bucket was nearly empty; more smoke was coming off the phoenix's back in thick waves, then gathering on Varenna's ceiling. She let her bubble fade away and dropped to her knees on the bed.
"Gen."
The phoenix's head popped up out of the bucket. It tried to coo at her with a beak full of coal. "Mmrmf?"
"Come."
Flames trailed on the air as the phoenix flew to her wrist. She closed her eyes a moment, and soft light flickered along her skin, keeping the worst of the heat from reaching her. She stroked the phoenix's neck with her fingers. "I thought you didn't like this coal, Gen. Were you just messing with me?"
"Mrmf." It crunched and gulped the coal in its beak, then trilled at her cutely. She smiled and planted a kiss on its burning forehead.
"I had a dream about one of your cousins. You're going to grow to be frighteningly large someday. She was very pretty, but it wasn't the dream I was supposed to have. I was supposed to meet my animal spirit and give it..." She paused, frowned. The hand attached to the wrist bearing the weight of the phoenix was still closed around a lump of something. She opened it.
The diamond statuette rose glistening in flight, wings stretched and beak opened for a roar. It was tiny, but the proportions clearly portrayed an adult bird, spines and all. Gen leaned in to examine it, and it blazed with reflected flames. Varenna stared at it.
"Oh."
Last edited by Varenna on Fri Jan 09, 2009 6:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Personal isn't the same as important.
Re: Your animal spirits
((Can I play? Rashona likes Threnn. Y'know, for a paladin.))
Her body slept, curled comfortably in a Storm Peaks cave with the icy wind ruffling over a dense bear pelt, but her spirit walked. Rashona rarely came near even the borders of the Dream, preferring a world where earth was earth and wind was wind, and not a veiled message from the spirits, but...well, she rather liked Bittertongue's mate. Had done ever since she'd watched the two paladins delivering a carefully translated explanation of their faith in the midst of a crowd of orcs and Shu'halo who were held back from open hostility by Janje's simple presence. So when word had spread through Moonglade that a druid was seeking help for her, Rashona had contacted Aleros and taken his potion.
The offering had been simple enough - a vial of the quicksilver-bright mixture she used to quicken herself in battle, carefully brewed and poured into a glazed pottery flask from Bloodhoof Village. Here in the Dream, its form flickered and shifted as much as Rashona's did in the waking world. After it had changed from potion to dagger to haunch of bloody meat, she stopped trying to keep track of it. Her own shape, though, was stable and she saw no reason to change it: a tawny-gold Mulgore plainscat, perfectly unexceptional except for the ripple of sleek, earth-brown bear fur that flickered across her pelt when the light struck at the right angle. She stalked the pathways of the Dream, nose lifted to every scent and ears flicking to catch the birdcalls, rustles, and less identifiable whispers all around her. The sound of wolves howling in the distance she ignored; wolves had nothing to do with her, nor she with them.
At least, she ignored them until she'd walked for what seemed like hours. This world was beautiful, but...sterile in an odd way. Growth and decay, hunter and prey, but no thought behind them, everything unconnected as dreams. She growled in muted frustration and began to lope toward the wolfsong far away.
The wolves grew nearer; the path grew rougher. Pebbles lodged between her pads, and low-growing branches raked across her back. When vines laced into a screen across her path, she stopped in her tracks, tail twitching. "Stop that," she said to no one in particular. "Whatever I'm supposed to be learning, I can learn it much more efficiently without theatrics."
The vines untwined themselves and withdrew.
"Thank you."
She padded into a clearing where the wolfpack tore joyfully into its latest meal. Above, a raven perched comfortably in the tree, waiting for scraps and watching the scene with amusement Even hunched against the wind, it looked...gleeful. "Took you long enough," it called down to her.
"Me? I follow guidance when it's given. If you wanted me to run a faster trail, you should have shown me where to start."
The raven fluttered off its perch and circled down to perch on a rock outcropping near Rashona's head. "Maybe that's your problem, little cat."
"Call me kitten and I will bite you," she said calmly. But she sat down and coiled her tail around her forefeet, giving the spirit bird the same attention she would have given a shaman. Annoying or not, spirits should be heeded.
"Fair enough. My offering?"
She flicked an ear. "You're waiting on your dinner from the wolves, you can wait on a potion from me. At least until I'm sure that you're the one I'm looking for."
"Not who you were expecting, am I?"
"Not in the least."
"Exactly." Beak or not, the bird grinned at her. Rashona flattened her ears at it. "I know why you're here, little cat. And I know who you were expecting to find."
"But?" She stretched out in the soft grass, nudging the flask - well, currently it was a flask - toward the raven.
"The cat and the bear are too much a part of you. You've learned all you're willing to hear from them. So you're stuck here."
"With wolves?"
"With me." The raven's feathers puffed out in momentary annoyance. "'Course, wolves are underrated, but they still get more respect than ravens. Everybody loves the predators..."
"If the Mother had called me to serve her as a tree or a stag or - or simply as myself, I would have. Apparently, She wanted teeth and claws."
"You're good with those. Maybe too good." The raven leaned forward and gave her a peck on the nose, sharp enough to sting but without the bone-breaking force it could have brought to bear. "If you've learned your lessons too well to be able to hear the next set, where does that leave you, little cat?"
She bristled. "At the moment? In the mountains fighting undead."
"Good place. Good place. You've still got to learn...and don't give me that look," the raven said in response to her slowly wrinkling muzzle. "I'll give you what you came for, even if it's not what you need. Come look for me again if you get bored."
It dropped...something...in front of her forefeet before launching itself into the air, a storm of shining black feathers that whirled before her eyes and led to blackness over everything.
When she woke, there were two things lying atop the snow that had drifted over her bear form as she slept. A finely detailed wooden amulet, and a beaded black feather that she couldn't quite focus on, both strung on simple leather cords. Choose, flickered through her mind, an impression there and gone as quickly as a raven's wing.
She packed one carefully away and transported it to the Moonglade for Aleros. The other she stuffed in the bottom of her backpack, and set off for Icecrown again.
Her body slept, curled comfortably in a Storm Peaks cave with the icy wind ruffling over a dense bear pelt, but her spirit walked. Rashona rarely came near even the borders of the Dream, preferring a world where earth was earth and wind was wind, and not a veiled message from the spirits, but...well, she rather liked Bittertongue's mate. Had done ever since she'd watched the two paladins delivering a carefully translated explanation of their faith in the midst of a crowd of orcs and Shu'halo who were held back from open hostility by Janje's simple presence. So when word had spread through Moonglade that a druid was seeking help for her, Rashona had contacted Aleros and taken his potion.
The offering had been simple enough - a vial of the quicksilver-bright mixture she used to quicken herself in battle, carefully brewed and poured into a glazed pottery flask from Bloodhoof Village. Here in the Dream, its form flickered and shifted as much as Rashona's did in the waking world. After it had changed from potion to dagger to haunch of bloody meat, she stopped trying to keep track of it. Her own shape, though, was stable and she saw no reason to change it: a tawny-gold Mulgore plainscat, perfectly unexceptional except for the ripple of sleek, earth-brown bear fur that flickered across her pelt when the light struck at the right angle. She stalked the pathways of the Dream, nose lifted to every scent and ears flicking to catch the birdcalls, rustles, and less identifiable whispers all around her. The sound of wolves howling in the distance she ignored; wolves had nothing to do with her, nor she with them.
At least, she ignored them until she'd walked for what seemed like hours. This world was beautiful, but...sterile in an odd way. Growth and decay, hunter and prey, but no thought behind them, everything unconnected as dreams. She growled in muted frustration and began to lope toward the wolfsong far away.
The wolves grew nearer; the path grew rougher. Pebbles lodged between her pads, and low-growing branches raked across her back. When vines laced into a screen across her path, she stopped in her tracks, tail twitching. "Stop that," she said to no one in particular. "Whatever I'm supposed to be learning, I can learn it much more efficiently without theatrics."
The vines untwined themselves and withdrew.
"Thank you."
She padded into a clearing where the wolfpack tore joyfully into its latest meal. Above, a raven perched comfortably in the tree, waiting for scraps and watching the scene with amusement Even hunched against the wind, it looked...gleeful. "Took you long enough," it called down to her.
"Me? I follow guidance when it's given. If you wanted me to run a faster trail, you should have shown me where to start."
The raven fluttered off its perch and circled down to perch on a rock outcropping near Rashona's head. "Maybe that's your problem, little cat."
"Call me kitten and I will bite you," she said calmly. But she sat down and coiled her tail around her forefeet, giving the spirit bird the same attention she would have given a shaman. Annoying or not, spirits should be heeded.
"Fair enough. My offering?"
She flicked an ear. "You're waiting on your dinner from the wolves, you can wait on a potion from me. At least until I'm sure that you're the one I'm looking for."
"Not who you were expecting, am I?"
"Not in the least."
"Exactly." Beak or not, the bird grinned at her. Rashona flattened her ears at it. "I know why you're here, little cat. And I know who you were expecting to find."
"But?" She stretched out in the soft grass, nudging the flask - well, currently it was a flask - toward the raven.
"The cat and the bear are too much a part of you. You've learned all you're willing to hear from them. So you're stuck here."
"With wolves?"
"With me." The raven's feathers puffed out in momentary annoyance. "'Course, wolves are underrated, but they still get more respect than ravens. Everybody loves the predators..."
"If the Mother had called me to serve her as a tree or a stag or - or simply as myself, I would have. Apparently, She wanted teeth and claws."
"You're good with those. Maybe too good." The raven leaned forward and gave her a peck on the nose, sharp enough to sting but without the bone-breaking force it could have brought to bear. "If you've learned your lessons too well to be able to hear the next set, where does that leave you, little cat?"
She bristled. "At the moment? In the mountains fighting undead."
"Good place. Good place. You've still got to learn...and don't give me that look," the raven said in response to her slowly wrinkling muzzle. "I'll give you what you came for, even if it's not what you need. Come look for me again if you get bored."
It dropped...something...in front of her forefeet before launching itself into the air, a storm of shining black feathers that whirled before her eyes and led to blackness over everything.
When she woke, there were two things lying atop the snow that had drifted over her bear form as she slept. A finely detailed wooden amulet, and a beaded black feather that she couldn't quite focus on, both strung on simple leather cords. Choose, flickered through her mind, an impression there and gone as quickly as a raven's wing.
She packed one carefully away and transported it to the Moonglade for Aleros. The other she stuffed in the bottom of her backpack, and set off for Icecrown again.
Re: Your animal spirits
"I don't want to do this." Threnn held up the bottle of luminous liquid and gave it a shake. Motes swirled within the green; Anna's face refracted through the glass, distorting it into odd shapes. The priestess stuck her tongue out, making the image all the more strange. Threnn couldn't help but laugh.
"You think I'm looking at this like it's a jaunt through the park?"
Threnn lowered Aleros' potion. There were dark circles under Annalea's eyes from too many nights wrapped in the heavy slumber of her Dreamless Sleep potions. They granted rest, but not real sleep, and Threnn seriously doubted her sister was following her own rules - "No more than four days in a row," she chided anyone she gave them to. She wondered how many days Anna had gone past that. How many weeks.
"He can't get you when you use this." Anna left the name unspoken. Better not to tempt invoking him by accident and making the Nightmare-touched Earthsprung come sniffing around again.
"Us," she corrected. "He can't get us."
"Us, then. Ale promised." The priestess unstoppered her own vial, making a show of swirling it and sniffing it as though they were at one of the Gallina's wine tastings. "Bottoms up, sister-mine," she said, and knocked it back more like a shot of cheap whiskey than a fine cabernet.
Threnn toasted as well, half-tempted to hold the brew on her tongue and spit it out once her sister fell asleep. But they had no idea how long before it would take effect, whether it would even make them sleepy, and she couldn't let Anna face the Dream alone. It slid down her throat, tasting vaguely like summer.
Anna fluffed the pillows on the Bittertongues' bed while Threnn kicked off her boots. They'd decided to try this in the elder al'Cair's rooms rather than the younger's for a few reasons - the bed was bigger here, and should anything go wrong, Bricu would be home before nightfall.
On the nightstand lay two objects - a ribboned scroll with the music to an ancient Kal'dorei song written out in Anna's strong hand, and a sheathed dagger, simple and unadorned but sharp and strong. Threnn had been more than satisfied with it when she completed it; it had taken her months to pefect the design.
The women stretched out, adjusting covers and positions, until they finally found themselves turned towards one another, as they'd done as girls whispering secrets in the dark. Neither mentioned the last time they'd lain like this, in the days after Anna lost the baby. Instead, Threnn passed Anna the scroll and slipped her dagger beneath the pillow, its hilt clutched in her hand. Her other hand sought Anna's, and found the priestess' already questing for her own.
"Threnny, I'm scared," she said, her slate grey eyes wide as they laced their fingers together.
"Sssh, now," said Threnn. "I'll be right there with you. Close your eyes."
Anna obeyed. Threnn hummed an old lullaby, one their father used to sing to them, but it was hardly needed. The exhaustion of the past weeks carried Anna swiftly down into sleep. Threnn stopped humming and let her own fatigue do the same.
---
They knew Elwynn Forest almost as well as they knew the streets of Stormwind. The dream had put them just east of Crystal Lake, and through the trees Threnn could see summer sunlight catching Annalea's hair. The priestess glanced around and caught her sister's eye, offering her a half-hearted wave.
Anna took a faltering step towards her, then shook her head and backed away. Threnn nodded her understanding: even though they were together here, there was an unspoken need for solitude. The women moved off in opposite directions, the priestess deeper into the forest, the paladin towards the lake.
---
There was a songbird in the trees. Anna could hear it hopping from branch to branch above her as she walked, but could only see a flash of bright blue now and then when she looked up. She didn't know what she should be looking for; the last time she'd dreamt this vividly, Fane had pinned her down while Fedwyn tore through her mind, stealing the book he wanted page by page, letter by letter. Don't think on that. I'm safe here. Ale said so.
Blessed Elune, she hoped he was right.
The trail she followed opened out onto a small clearing, enough for perhaps three people to stand in and hold out their arms, fingertips touching. When they were little, she and Threnny had discovered this place and decided it was where the fairies gathered. They were always careful to check for rings of mushrooms -- neither wanted seven years to pass in the span of a night. The stories where that happened were never happy ones.
The bird began to sing. It fluttered down from its perch to the grass in front of her. It was a beautiful bird, unlike any she'd ever seen before. It was about the size of a bluebird, its plumage ranging from indigo on its breast to sky blue at its wingtips. Its beak was as dark as the midnight sky.
Anna's brow furrowed. The song it sang was oddly familiar. A few seconds later, it clicked. This was her song, the one she'd copied down carefully onto parchment and clutched in her hand as she drifted to sleep. Her face broke out in a grin. "Hey there, little guy. Does that mean you're my--"
Before she could finish the question, something sleek and dark darted out from the trees on the other side of the clearing. The panther pounced on the bird and swallowed it up in a heartbeat, cutting off the melody mid-refrain.
Anna darted a few steps backwards. He found me oh gods Ale was wrong Elune save me. She opened her mouth to shout for Threnny, but some last bit of rational thought made her look at the cat a second time. She'd only seen Fedwyn once, looming above her in that terrible dream, but she'd never forget the sight of him. He was inky black, like this cat, only... This one was definitely smaller, and while its eyes were yellow, they didn't glow like the druid's. And its shadow was normal as you please; Fedwyn's had flickered over her in strange patterns, never falling in the direction the light should have thrown it.
The panther began licking its paws.
She took a cautious step forward. "I liked that song."
The cat leaned down and spat out a few feathers, and what might have been one of its victim's feet. Its purring voice filled her head. It is not gone from you forever. Perhaps someday you will find it again, little songbird.
"Don't... don't call me that."
And why shouldn't I, little songbird? There was contempt beneath the words. It's what you think you are, isn't it?
"N... Nooo. I just --"
Pretty little songbird, safe in your nest above the ground, where the bad things can't come find you. The panther advanced on her, stalking, muscles rippling beneath its pitch-dark coat.
Anna backed up until she felt the rough bark of a tree beneath her shoulder blades. "Don't. Please don't."
But some things can climb, little songbird. Right up into those branches, and they can snatch you out of them, can't they? He reared up onto his hind legs, pinning her with his front paws. But what do they find, there, when they peek over the wall of sticks and twigs and leftover bits of yarn? When they reach in with a greedy paw, what is it that grabs them right back?"
The shadows gathered around her. Anna put all her strength into one good shove, sending the cat tumbling back to the middle of the clearing. "Don't you fucking touch me," she hissed. "I'll--" Her threat broke off as she glanced at her outstretched hands. The shadows fled, but her hands remained black. Black as the cat's fur, black as a moonless sky.
Black as sin.
She whimpered at the claws that had replaced her fingernails and looked up at the cat in mute horror.
He'd regained his feet and sat before her, tail twitching with amusement. We are the same, little sister, little songbird, little cat. You and I, cut from the same cloth, peas from the same pod, choose whichever pretty metaphor you'd like. We are the same.
Anna stared hard at her hands, willing them to change, for the cat to be wrong. The claws slid back in, became nails once more, but the color remained.
Even still, the panther seemed impressed. Cunning. Determined. Not a bird. Many birds are stupid.
"Not hawks. Or ravens, or..."
Songbirds. Songbirds are often twittering, blithering idiots.
"You've been calling me a songbird from the start."
There are exceptions. He spat out a few more feathers.
Anna huffed. The cat huffed back, but didn't offer any further insight. At last, she sighed. "Look. I'm supposed to ask you for a boon. Considering as you ate my song, does that mean you'll grant it?"
Her spirit guide curled up in a circle and rested his head upon his paws. No.
"'No?'" She gaped at him.
I don't grant boons to foolish girls.
"Well, if that isn't ten kinds of bullshit, I don't know what is." She plopped herself down in front of him.
One yellow eye popped open. I'm napping. Run along, little songbird, foolish little sparrow.
"You said I was a cat!"
Not right now, you aren't. You're yammering worse than a jay.
"I--" But she heard the petulant tone creeping into her voice, and shut up. The cat closed his eye again and snoozed on for a few moments. Anna considered taking her own boon, yanking out a tuft of his fur and fleeing, but when she lifted her hand to try it, his paws twitched and his claws extended, perhaps grasping for another bird in his dream. Her hand returned to her lap. Those claws were far too sharp.
Not long after, he woke with a jaw-stretching yawn. There was still a piece of bird between his teeth. Still here, little songbird?
She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know how to be a cat. Or a bird. I hardly even know how to be me sometimes."
He stretched and settled back down, closer to her. You know more than you think. You've looked into the dark and do not fear it, like a cat. He looked up again, pondering, and seemed to reach a decision. Very well, little sister, little songbird, little cat. You shall have your boon.
Head on paws once more, his voice began fading from her mind. Now, shoo. I'm taking a nap.
"You think I'm looking at this like it's a jaunt through the park?"
Threnn lowered Aleros' potion. There were dark circles under Annalea's eyes from too many nights wrapped in the heavy slumber of her Dreamless Sleep potions. They granted rest, but not real sleep, and Threnn seriously doubted her sister was following her own rules - "No more than four days in a row," she chided anyone she gave them to. She wondered how many days Anna had gone past that. How many weeks.
"He can't get you when you use this." Anna left the name unspoken. Better not to tempt invoking him by accident and making the Nightmare-touched Earthsprung come sniffing around again.
"Us," she corrected. "He can't get us."
"Us, then. Ale promised." The priestess unstoppered her own vial, making a show of swirling it and sniffing it as though they were at one of the Gallina's wine tastings. "Bottoms up, sister-mine," she said, and knocked it back more like a shot of cheap whiskey than a fine cabernet.
Threnn toasted as well, half-tempted to hold the brew on her tongue and spit it out once her sister fell asleep. But they had no idea how long before it would take effect, whether it would even make them sleepy, and she couldn't let Anna face the Dream alone. It slid down her throat, tasting vaguely like summer.
Anna fluffed the pillows on the Bittertongues' bed while Threnn kicked off her boots. They'd decided to try this in the elder al'Cair's rooms rather than the younger's for a few reasons - the bed was bigger here, and should anything go wrong, Bricu would be home before nightfall.
On the nightstand lay two objects - a ribboned scroll with the music to an ancient Kal'dorei song written out in Anna's strong hand, and a sheathed dagger, simple and unadorned but sharp and strong. Threnn had been more than satisfied with it when she completed it; it had taken her months to pefect the design.
The women stretched out, adjusting covers and positions, until they finally found themselves turned towards one another, as they'd done as girls whispering secrets in the dark. Neither mentioned the last time they'd lain like this, in the days after Anna lost the baby. Instead, Threnn passed Anna the scroll and slipped her dagger beneath the pillow, its hilt clutched in her hand. Her other hand sought Anna's, and found the priestess' already questing for her own.
"Threnny, I'm scared," she said, her slate grey eyes wide as they laced their fingers together.
"Sssh, now," said Threnn. "I'll be right there with you. Close your eyes."
Anna obeyed. Threnn hummed an old lullaby, one their father used to sing to them, but it was hardly needed. The exhaustion of the past weeks carried Anna swiftly down into sleep. Threnn stopped humming and let her own fatigue do the same.
---
They knew Elwynn Forest almost as well as they knew the streets of Stormwind. The dream had put them just east of Crystal Lake, and through the trees Threnn could see summer sunlight catching Annalea's hair. The priestess glanced around and caught her sister's eye, offering her a half-hearted wave.
Anna took a faltering step towards her, then shook her head and backed away. Threnn nodded her understanding: even though they were together here, there was an unspoken need for solitude. The women moved off in opposite directions, the priestess deeper into the forest, the paladin towards the lake.
---
There was a songbird in the trees. Anna could hear it hopping from branch to branch above her as she walked, but could only see a flash of bright blue now and then when she looked up. She didn't know what she should be looking for; the last time she'd dreamt this vividly, Fane had pinned her down while Fedwyn tore through her mind, stealing the book he wanted page by page, letter by letter. Don't think on that. I'm safe here. Ale said so.
Blessed Elune, she hoped he was right.
The trail she followed opened out onto a small clearing, enough for perhaps three people to stand in and hold out their arms, fingertips touching. When they were little, she and Threnny had discovered this place and decided it was where the fairies gathered. They were always careful to check for rings of mushrooms -- neither wanted seven years to pass in the span of a night. The stories where that happened were never happy ones.
The bird began to sing. It fluttered down from its perch to the grass in front of her. It was a beautiful bird, unlike any she'd ever seen before. It was about the size of a bluebird, its plumage ranging from indigo on its breast to sky blue at its wingtips. Its beak was as dark as the midnight sky.
Anna's brow furrowed. The song it sang was oddly familiar. A few seconds later, it clicked. This was her song, the one she'd copied down carefully onto parchment and clutched in her hand as she drifted to sleep. Her face broke out in a grin. "Hey there, little guy. Does that mean you're my--"
Before she could finish the question, something sleek and dark darted out from the trees on the other side of the clearing. The panther pounced on the bird and swallowed it up in a heartbeat, cutting off the melody mid-refrain.
Anna darted a few steps backwards. He found me oh gods Ale was wrong Elune save me. She opened her mouth to shout for Threnny, but some last bit of rational thought made her look at the cat a second time. She'd only seen Fedwyn once, looming above her in that terrible dream, but she'd never forget the sight of him. He was inky black, like this cat, only... This one was definitely smaller, and while its eyes were yellow, they didn't glow like the druid's. And its shadow was normal as you please; Fedwyn's had flickered over her in strange patterns, never falling in the direction the light should have thrown it.
The panther began licking its paws.
She took a cautious step forward. "I liked that song."
The cat leaned down and spat out a few feathers, and what might have been one of its victim's feet. Its purring voice filled her head. It is not gone from you forever. Perhaps someday you will find it again, little songbird.
"Don't... don't call me that."
And why shouldn't I, little songbird? There was contempt beneath the words. It's what you think you are, isn't it?
"N... Nooo. I just --"
Pretty little songbird, safe in your nest above the ground, where the bad things can't come find you. The panther advanced on her, stalking, muscles rippling beneath its pitch-dark coat.
Anna backed up until she felt the rough bark of a tree beneath her shoulder blades. "Don't. Please don't."
But some things can climb, little songbird. Right up into those branches, and they can snatch you out of them, can't they? He reared up onto his hind legs, pinning her with his front paws. But what do they find, there, when they peek over the wall of sticks and twigs and leftover bits of yarn? When they reach in with a greedy paw, what is it that grabs them right back?"
The shadows gathered around her. Anna put all her strength into one good shove, sending the cat tumbling back to the middle of the clearing. "Don't you fucking touch me," she hissed. "I'll--" Her threat broke off as she glanced at her outstretched hands. The shadows fled, but her hands remained black. Black as the cat's fur, black as a moonless sky.
Black as sin.
She whimpered at the claws that had replaced her fingernails and looked up at the cat in mute horror.
He'd regained his feet and sat before her, tail twitching with amusement. We are the same, little sister, little songbird, little cat. You and I, cut from the same cloth, peas from the same pod, choose whichever pretty metaphor you'd like. We are the same.
Anna stared hard at her hands, willing them to change, for the cat to be wrong. The claws slid back in, became nails once more, but the color remained.
Even still, the panther seemed impressed. Cunning. Determined. Not a bird. Many birds are stupid.
"Not hawks. Or ravens, or..."
Songbirds. Songbirds are often twittering, blithering idiots.
"You've been calling me a songbird from the start."
There are exceptions. He spat out a few more feathers.
Anna huffed. The cat huffed back, but didn't offer any further insight. At last, she sighed. "Look. I'm supposed to ask you for a boon. Considering as you ate my song, does that mean you'll grant it?"
Her spirit guide curled up in a circle and rested his head upon his paws. No.
"'No?'" She gaped at him.
I don't grant boons to foolish girls.
"Well, if that isn't ten kinds of bullshit, I don't know what is." She plopped herself down in front of him.
One yellow eye popped open. I'm napping. Run along, little songbird, foolish little sparrow.
"You said I was a cat!"
Not right now, you aren't. You're yammering worse than a jay.
"I--" But she heard the petulant tone creeping into her voice, and shut up. The cat closed his eye again and snoozed on for a few moments. Anna considered taking her own boon, yanking out a tuft of his fur and fleeing, but when she lifted her hand to try it, his paws twitched and his claws extended, perhaps grasping for another bird in his dream. Her hand returned to her lap. Those claws were far too sharp.
Not long after, he woke with a jaw-stretching yawn. There was still a piece of bird between his teeth. Still here, little songbird?
She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know how to be a cat. Or a bird. I hardly even know how to be me sometimes."
He stretched and settled back down, closer to her. You know more than you think. You've looked into the dark and do not fear it, like a cat. He looked up again, pondering, and seemed to reach a decision. Very well, little sister, little songbird, little cat. You shall have your boon.
Head on paws once more, his voice began fading from her mind. Now, shoo. I'm taking a nap.
Re: Your animal spirits
The water was its usual deep blue. Threnn pushed past stands of cattails scattered along the shore and breathed in the heady smells of summer - honeysuckle, thick grass and the deep scent of earth from the farms to the south. She stood ankle deep before she thought to remove her boots, but when she glanced down, her feet were bare, her trouser legs rolled up to her knees. Some things, she supposed, were instinctual in the Dream.
There was movement on the far bank, a shape prowling through the rushes. Threnn stayed still and watched as a wolf appeared at the water's edge. As it bent its head to drink, she realized it wasn't one of the wolves she'd grown up tracking in Elwynn. It was smaller, to begin with, its coat noticeably thicker and white as snow.
It was also, judging by the roundness at its sides, pregnant. Threnn's hand drifted to her own swelling middle.
After a moment, the she-wolf lifted her head and regarded the woman standing across from her.
Come to me.
Threnn waded across. The lake was shallow on this end; she felt her way along the muddy bottom cautiously, looking for sudden deep spots, but the water never splashed above her knees. As Threnn reached her, the wolf turned, climbing onto one of the outcroppings of rock where she sat looking out over the lake.
Cool water swirled around her feet as Threnn clambered up beside her and let her legs dangle over the side. She'd come here many a time with Anna and the Bells, fishing, picnicking, dreaming of the future. Years later, as a novice at the Abbey, she'd sometimes snuck away with Kaven or Tare to share a flask and complain about their trainers.
Now she sat, the sunlight dappling her skin as it filtered through the trees, and looked into the wolf's amber eyes. "I brought, uh." She fumbled the dagger out of its sheath. "I brought you this. Guess it's not the most useful thing for you, is it?"
Her companion chuffed. The voice filling her head seemed amused. Come, now, Dreamer. Surely you know better than that by now.
The shaggy head bent forward and scooped the dagger out of Threnn's outstretched palm. After a moment, the wolf glanced up at her and grinned a doggy grin. One of its sharp fangs glinted silver. It is a good offering. A mother needs sharp teeth to protect her cubs.
Threnn thought of the swords she kept polished and sharpened, in anticipation of what dangers Northrend and its inhabitants might pose. Sharp teeth, indeed. "I... need to ask a boon of you."
To fight the Nightmare-touched. You are sticking your snout back into the hornet's nest, Dreamer, after you've already been badly stung. He stole you away from your mate and your growing cub once already. What will come next if you fail?
Three weeks she'd spent in the Dream, though it had seemed much longer. Three weeks, leaving behind the people who needed her -- Bricu, Anna, Fells. When she'd fallen asleep, her body was one shape. When she woke up, it was another. Even though the changes were slight, ones that likely only she and Bricu would have noticed, it felt like a loss. She'd missed the first flutters of motion, and Light only knew what else. Haemon had watched over her, and Anna. Fedwyn himself had cast a spell to keep them both nourished while she slept on.
But every day had been a blessing. Every day mattered, when she didn't know if this child would ever be born, and the druid had stolen nineteen of them away. Her fists clenched at her sides. "We won't fail," she growled, and the sound came out very much like a wolf's growl. "He's hurt..." How easily the wolf-thoughts came. "He's hurt many of my pack. We will gather, and we will chase, and bring him to the ground."
And will you be the one to tear out his throat? To cover your muzzle in his blood? Amber eyes regarded blue.
Threnn shook her head. "That's not for me. That's for another. He took Ulthanon's mate in my place. I'll be healing them. Protecting the pack."
Then you shall have your boon, Dreamer. The wolf stood and padded forward to press her cool, wet nose first against Threnn's forehead, then against her belly. Perhaps someday you will seek me again, and your cub will run with mine.
She smiled and, though it was likely undignified, reached up to scratch the wolf behind her ears. "Thank you."
The wolf allowed the affection for a moment, then cocked her head and sniffed at a scent on the breeze. Go now, and find your litter-mate. She's lost in the woods.
"Bloody hell," said Threnn, as her sister's frightened voice carried through the trees. She pushed off the rock and ran, swift as a wolf, towards Anna.
---
She found Anna in a twisted stand of trees, old rotting trunks gouged by animal horns, knots protruding here and there to make grotesque visages out of bark. Branches caught on her blouse as she passed, clutching like bony fingers. The priestess stood in the middle, eyes wide, her breath coming in a ragged pant.
The wolf was wrong; Anna wasn't lost, exactly; she'd found the place they'd often dared one another to go as children. It was a rite of passage among the children of Stormwind -- spend more than a half-hour in there alone after dark and you were lauded as a hero. They'd both tried it. Neither had won the dare.
Anna calmed as soon as she set eyes on her elder sister. She even looked a bit embarrassed. "Threnny, oh, thank Elune."
"Trying to see if it's as scary now as it was when we were little?"
Her sister's gaze settled on a spot just over Threnn's left shoulder. "No."
"You're lying."
"All right, fine. Yes, I was. And it isn't as scary now as it was then. It's fucking terrifying." Anna strode past her, out of the thicket.
"'s the Dream, Anna, or a part of it," she said as she caught up. "Of course it's worse here. All those children, remembering it. Hell, grown-ups waxing nostalgic... If we were actually in the Dream all the way, I'd bet the Nightmare'd be right there, waiting." She said it without thinking, and by the time she thought to recall the words, it was too late.
They stood a moment, listening to the wind. Neither was sure who reached for whose hand, but they held on to one another as though something might snatch them away.
Anna laughed first, nervous and shaky, but strong. Threnn took it up quickly, though, and they giggled and snickered until the fear went away.
When they finally regained their composure, Annalea glanced around the woods. "Did you get your boon?"
"Yeah. You?"
"I did." Another glance, towards the sky. The sun hadn't moved. "When do we wake up?"
"Probably when we want to," she said, though that hadn't worked with Fedwyn, and Ale hadn't left instructions. Still, it was worth a try. "You ready?"
"I..." Anna dug a toe into the dirt. "Ale said we're safe here, right?"
Threnn nodded.
"It's been a long time since I've slept, Threnny. Really, truly slept. Do you think... Do you think it's against the rules if I stay a little longer? I'll stay away from the scary places." For a moment, Anna's skin paled. The dark circles that had been lurking beneath her eyes in the waking world returned.
"I think it'll be fine," she said, and kissed her little sister on the forehead, like the she-wolf had done to her not long ago. When she pulled away, the smudges beneath the priestess' eyes were gone again. "I'll watch while you sleep. If it seems like the dream's gone sour, I'll wake you, yeah?"
"Okay. Yeah. Thank you, Threnny."
"'course." She turned her concentration to waking up, and felt the dream begin to fade around her. The last thing she saw before it was gone completely was Anna, a floppy straw sunhat on her head, heading towards the lake.
---
She woke with the late afternoon sun in her eyes and her sister curled against her. Threnn sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Anna. She felt rested, content. In her hand sat a she-wolf, exquisitely carved from white stone, standing protectively over a tiny cub. She grinned and set the statue -- the totem, Ale called it -- on the bedside table.
Anna held something loosely in her own hand. Threnn slipped it from her fingers and held it up to the light filtering in from the window. In her palm, a black marble panther rested on its haunches. In its grinning jaws, it held a bird made of sapphire. She set it beside the wolf, wondering what exactly had gone on between Anna and her spirit animal.
She glanced down at her sleeping sister and smoothed her hair. "Sweet dreams, little sister," she murmured, then eased herself out of the bed and glanced at the workbench, looking for something to do while Anna slept. At one end lay her sewing basket. At the other, her blacksmithing tools.
A mother needs sharp teeth to protect her cubs.
She took up her sword and a whetstone, and began sharpening the blade.
There was movement on the far bank, a shape prowling through the rushes. Threnn stayed still and watched as a wolf appeared at the water's edge. As it bent its head to drink, she realized it wasn't one of the wolves she'd grown up tracking in Elwynn. It was smaller, to begin with, its coat noticeably thicker and white as snow.
It was also, judging by the roundness at its sides, pregnant. Threnn's hand drifted to her own swelling middle.
After a moment, the she-wolf lifted her head and regarded the woman standing across from her.
Come to me.
Threnn waded across. The lake was shallow on this end; she felt her way along the muddy bottom cautiously, looking for sudden deep spots, but the water never splashed above her knees. As Threnn reached her, the wolf turned, climbing onto one of the outcroppings of rock where she sat looking out over the lake.
Cool water swirled around her feet as Threnn clambered up beside her and let her legs dangle over the side. She'd come here many a time with Anna and the Bells, fishing, picnicking, dreaming of the future. Years later, as a novice at the Abbey, she'd sometimes snuck away with Kaven or Tare to share a flask and complain about their trainers.
Now she sat, the sunlight dappling her skin as it filtered through the trees, and looked into the wolf's amber eyes. "I brought, uh." She fumbled the dagger out of its sheath. "I brought you this. Guess it's not the most useful thing for you, is it?"
Her companion chuffed. The voice filling her head seemed amused. Come, now, Dreamer. Surely you know better than that by now.
The shaggy head bent forward and scooped the dagger out of Threnn's outstretched palm. After a moment, the wolf glanced up at her and grinned a doggy grin. One of its sharp fangs glinted silver. It is a good offering. A mother needs sharp teeth to protect her cubs.
Threnn thought of the swords she kept polished and sharpened, in anticipation of what dangers Northrend and its inhabitants might pose. Sharp teeth, indeed. "I... need to ask a boon of you."
To fight the Nightmare-touched. You are sticking your snout back into the hornet's nest, Dreamer, after you've already been badly stung. He stole you away from your mate and your growing cub once already. What will come next if you fail?
Three weeks she'd spent in the Dream, though it had seemed much longer. Three weeks, leaving behind the people who needed her -- Bricu, Anna, Fells. When she'd fallen asleep, her body was one shape. When she woke up, it was another. Even though the changes were slight, ones that likely only she and Bricu would have noticed, it felt like a loss. She'd missed the first flutters of motion, and Light only knew what else. Haemon had watched over her, and Anna. Fedwyn himself had cast a spell to keep them both nourished while she slept on.
But every day had been a blessing. Every day mattered, when she didn't know if this child would ever be born, and the druid had stolen nineteen of them away. Her fists clenched at her sides. "We won't fail," she growled, and the sound came out very much like a wolf's growl. "He's hurt..." How easily the wolf-thoughts came. "He's hurt many of my pack. We will gather, and we will chase, and bring him to the ground."
And will you be the one to tear out his throat? To cover your muzzle in his blood? Amber eyes regarded blue.
Threnn shook her head. "That's not for me. That's for another. He took Ulthanon's mate in my place. I'll be healing them. Protecting the pack."
Then you shall have your boon, Dreamer. The wolf stood and padded forward to press her cool, wet nose first against Threnn's forehead, then against her belly. Perhaps someday you will seek me again, and your cub will run with mine.
She smiled and, though it was likely undignified, reached up to scratch the wolf behind her ears. "Thank you."
The wolf allowed the affection for a moment, then cocked her head and sniffed at a scent on the breeze. Go now, and find your litter-mate. She's lost in the woods.
"Bloody hell," said Threnn, as her sister's frightened voice carried through the trees. She pushed off the rock and ran, swift as a wolf, towards Anna.
---
She found Anna in a twisted stand of trees, old rotting trunks gouged by animal horns, knots protruding here and there to make grotesque visages out of bark. Branches caught on her blouse as she passed, clutching like bony fingers. The priestess stood in the middle, eyes wide, her breath coming in a ragged pant.
The wolf was wrong; Anna wasn't lost, exactly; she'd found the place they'd often dared one another to go as children. It was a rite of passage among the children of Stormwind -- spend more than a half-hour in there alone after dark and you were lauded as a hero. They'd both tried it. Neither had won the dare.
Anna calmed as soon as she set eyes on her elder sister. She even looked a bit embarrassed. "Threnny, oh, thank Elune."
"Trying to see if it's as scary now as it was when we were little?"
Her sister's gaze settled on a spot just over Threnn's left shoulder. "No."
"You're lying."
"All right, fine. Yes, I was. And it isn't as scary now as it was then. It's fucking terrifying." Anna strode past her, out of the thicket.
"'s the Dream, Anna, or a part of it," she said as she caught up. "Of course it's worse here. All those children, remembering it. Hell, grown-ups waxing nostalgic... If we were actually in the Dream all the way, I'd bet the Nightmare'd be right there, waiting." She said it without thinking, and by the time she thought to recall the words, it was too late.
They stood a moment, listening to the wind. Neither was sure who reached for whose hand, but they held on to one another as though something might snatch them away.
Anna laughed first, nervous and shaky, but strong. Threnn took it up quickly, though, and they giggled and snickered until the fear went away.
When they finally regained their composure, Annalea glanced around the woods. "Did you get your boon?"
"Yeah. You?"
"I did." Another glance, towards the sky. The sun hadn't moved. "When do we wake up?"
"Probably when we want to," she said, though that hadn't worked with Fedwyn, and Ale hadn't left instructions. Still, it was worth a try. "You ready?"
"I..." Anna dug a toe into the dirt. "Ale said we're safe here, right?"
Threnn nodded.
"It's been a long time since I've slept, Threnny. Really, truly slept. Do you think... Do you think it's against the rules if I stay a little longer? I'll stay away from the scary places." For a moment, Anna's skin paled. The dark circles that had been lurking beneath her eyes in the waking world returned.
"I think it'll be fine," she said, and kissed her little sister on the forehead, like the she-wolf had done to her not long ago. When she pulled away, the smudges beneath the priestess' eyes were gone again. "I'll watch while you sleep. If it seems like the dream's gone sour, I'll wake you, yeah?"
"Okay. Yeah. Thank you, Threnny."
"'course." She turned her concentration to waking up, and felt the dream begin to fade around her. The last thing she saw before it was gone completely was Anna, a floppy straw sunhat on her head, heading towards the lake.
---
She woke with the late afternoon sun in her eyes and her sister curled against her. Threnn sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Anna. She felt rested, content. In her hand sat a she-wolf, exquisitely carved from white stone, standing protectively over a tiny cub. She grinned and set the statue -- the totem, Ale called it -- on the bedside table.
Anna held something loosely in her own hand. Threnn slipped it from her fingers and held it up to the light filtering in from the window. In her palm, a black marble panther rested on its haunches. In its grinning jaws, it held a bird made of sapphire. She set it beside the wolf, wondering what exactly had gone on between Anna and her spirit animal.
She glanced down at her sleeping sister and smoothed her hair. "Sweet dreams, little sister," she murmured, then eased herself out of the bed and glanced at the workbench, looking for something to do while Anna slept. At one end lay her sewing basket. At the other, her blacksmithing tools.
A mother needs sharp teeth to protect her cubs.
She took up her sword and a whetstone, and began sharpening the blade.
Re: Your animal spirits
Even this late at night, Ulthanon could hear the birds outside his window. He’d only ever actually seen a few -he was fairly sure some of the warbling melodies were magically produced-, but those he had seen had been rare and once-thought-endangered or extinct species from all over lower Azeroth. Green and blue Pearfrills from the eastern Stranglethorn hills, Hinterland Yellowtails, and even a Seaspray Finch or two from the Westfall coastline, who made their nests on sheer cliffs overlooking the western breakers. He appreciated the Kirin Tor’s efforts to preserve some of the world’s wildlife even through this time of tribulation, but at the moment, they were part of the reason he was awake.
The room had been prepared as thoroughly as he could, with incense and candles burning wherever he could set them. All special aromas, made by their craftsmen and enchanted specifically to enhance and lengthen the amount of time a trance state would last. This would surely give him the opportunity to find his animal spirit and to plan everything he would need, without fear of prematurely waking up and missing something important.
His offering, on the nightstand next to him, was for the moment contained in a brown leather satchel.
With all the paraphernalia in place, Ulthanon uncorked the small green vial and drank unhesitatingly, relaxing himself down onto the inn’s bed. His vision swam amicably for a minute, and then he settled into the trance he was so expecting.
He turned over, trying to find a comfortable position. Indarra was long since asleep by now, the sheet of the bed tugged up right to her chin even though the city air was pleasantly warm. The sight of her resting soundly, her breath coming slow and shallow, made him smile in spite of himself. She’d been through so much recently- they all had. Natural, restorative sleep had come at such a premium that he couldn’t help but take a moment and appreciate it for what it was. He repositioned again, sliding an arm over her waist and bringing himself as close to her as he could.
It was as he expected- a dense deciduous forest in the dead of night. Cyan moonlight from three moons, one of which had rings, managed to peek through the canopy here or there, casting a pale blue glow over the woodland floor. Strange glowing plants had come out to bloom by this hour, smelling of some sort of citrus. Over a nearby rock, some sort of a lizard darted out from under a fern frond, stopped in a beam of moonlight, and skittered back for cover.
He was certainly admiring the scene, but his attentions were also quite devoted to a larger part of his surroundings, listening and smelling for anything other than the flora. Still, by the time he heard anything it was already too late to do anything about it, except spin as fast as possible and face it…!
He came face to face with the muzzle of an enormous wolf, easily eight feet at the shoulder if not more. Both elf and spirit regarded one another for a long moment, before Ulthanon regained enough composure to take a step back and bow.
“Great spirit,” he said as humbly as possible, “I come seeking your blessing.”
The curves of Indarra’s body felt comforting, so close to his; his chest to her back, his chin on her shoulder, their legs intertwining naturally even as she still slept soundly. He ran his hand down her topside arm and over her fingers, trying desperately to focus on the good of his current situation. Indarra was safe, after all, and the monster that had haunted their dreams and the dreams of their friends was dead beyond any returning. They could have peace together- if he could just stop remembering that potion.
For once, his memory was all too sharp.
The wolf regarded him with a mixture of confusion and disdain.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Ulthanon was a little bit taken aback by such a question from an animal spirit, but he tried not to seem phased.
“I come seeking your blessing against a great evil,” he said again, slowly going to a knee and swinging the leather satchel off of his back and onto the ground, “There is a druid of great power who seeks to-”
“No, kid. You’re not hearing me. What the hell are YOU doing here.”
Now completely confused, he opened the satchel with an unsure hesitancy. “I… I brought you an offering, great spirit. A choice cut of meat, from a Silvertail Buck I took myself in the Grizzly Hills. I hope it’s pleasing…?”
The wolf made a sound like an agitated sigh and looked at the meat. “Yeah, that’s a nice meal you’ve got there,” it said, “But that doesn’t answer my question. Why are YOU, of all people, HERE?”
“I came to seek the help of my guardian animal spirit,” Ulthanon replied, no longer able to hide the bewilderment in his voice.
The wolf stared blankly for a moment, blinked twice, and laughed.
“You think I’m… oh man, that’s fucking rich. Hah! You think… that’s too good. Hold on, I have to tell the others.”
The wolf howled, a sound that somehow seemed to cause the entire world to lurch and echo back on itself. Within seconds an entire pack of wolf-spirits, each as large as the first, encircled the pair with expectant eyes. There was something said in an unspoken tongue, for after another moment, the entire pack broke out in laughter as well.
“You’re not one of ours!”
“Who the hell sent you here?”
“Long way from home, reptile. Didja get lost at the fork in the road?”
“Go crawl back under your rock!”
Heat found its way to Ulthanon’s cheeks. Was this… some sort of trick? Had the candles and incense somehow interacted maliciously with the…
“NO,” the first wolf said, a snapping sound that brought all the others to an immediate silence, “Nothing went wrong except whatever the hell is broken up in that fucking head of yours. Lemme drop some knowledge on you, kid. Your totem isn’t the wolf. It never was, it never will be. You like to think you’re a wolf totem because you tamed one to hang out with and you taught it some tricks. You talk about your friends like they’re your ‘pack’ or whatever other bullshit nonsense you’ve been spouting these past few years, and you’ve convinced yourself you’re some sort of badass with the strength of the “noble wolf spirit” backing him up. You’re not.”
Genuine fear crept up in Ulthanon’s stomach. “I… I don’t understand.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious. Listen. I don’t have time for this childish crap you’ve got going on. Leave the meat and get lost. Get it out of your head that you’re a wolf totem, and don’t come back until you have your shit in order.”
The scene started to quiver and fade; he felt himself waking up. One last chance!
“But Indarra needs my help! Without an animal spirit totem, I’ll-”
“-Either adapt, or die. Regardless you’ll get no sympathy from us. You think we’d go up against the Dreaming Panther for YOU? Go back to the waking world where you belong and stop pretending you’re a wolf-spirit shaman or whatever the hell else you think.”
He wished those damned birds would be quiet for a while.
The room had been prepared as thoroughly as he could, with incense and candles burning wherever he could set them. All special aromas, made by their craftsmen and enchanted specifically to enhance and lengthen the amount of time a trance state would last. This would surely give him the opportunity to find his animal spirit and to plan everything he would need, without fear of prematurely waking up and missing something important.
His offering, on the nightstand next to him, was for the moment contained in a brown leather satchel.
With all the paraphernalia in place, Ulthanon uncorked the small green vial and drank unhesitatingly, relaxing himself down onto the inn’s bed. His vision swam amicably for a minute, and then he settled into the trance he was so expecting.
He turned over, trying to find a comfortable position. Indarra was long since asleep by now, the sheet of the bed tugged up right to her chin even though the city air was pleasantly warm. The sight of her resting soundly, her breath coming slow and shallow, made him smile in spite of himself. She’d been through so much recently- they all had. Natural, restorative sleep had come at such a premium that he couldn’t help but take a moment and appreciate it for what it was. He repositioned again, sliding an arm over her waist and bringing himself as close to her as he could.
It was as he expected- a dense deciduous forest in the dead of night. Cyan moonlight from three moons, one of which had rings, managed to peek through the canopy here or there, casting a pale blue glow over the woodland floor. Strange glowing plants had come out to bloom by this hour, smelling of some sort of citrus. Over a nearby rock, some sort of a lizard darted out from under a fern frond, stopped in a beam of moonlight, and skittered back for cover.
He was certainly admiring the scene, but his attentions were also quite devoted to a larger part of his surroundings, listening and smelling for anything other than the flora. Still, by the time he heard anything it was already too late to do anything about it, except spin as fast as possible and face it…!
He came face to face with the muzzle of an enormous wolf, easily eight feet at the shoulder if not more. Both elf and spirit regarded one another for a long moment, before Ulthanon regained enough composure to take a step back and bow.
“Great spirit,” he said as humbly as possible, “I come seeking your blessing.”
The curves of Indarra’s body felt comforting, so close to his; his chest to her back, his chin on her shoulder, their legs intertwining naturally even as she still slept soundly. He ran his hand down her topside arm and over her fingers, trying desperately to focus on the good of his current situation. Indarra was safe, after all, and the monster that had haunted their dreams and the dreams of their friends was dead beyond any returning. They could have peace together- if he could just stop remembering that potion.
For once, his memory was all too sharp.
The wolf regarded him with a mixture of confusion and disdain.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Ulthanon was a little bit taken aback by such a question from an animal spirit, but he tried not to seem phased.
“I come seeking your blessing against a great evil,” he said again, slowly going to a knee and swinging the leather satchel off of his back and onto the ground, “There is a druid of great power who seeks to-”
“No, kid. You’re not hearing me. What the hell are YOU doing here.”
Now completely confused, he opened the satchel with an unsure hesitancy. “I… I brought you an offering, great spirit. A choice cut of meat, from a Silvertail Buck I took myself in the Grizzly Hills. I hope it’s pleasing…?”
The wolf made a sound like an agitated sigh and looked at the meat. “Yeah, that’s a nice meal you’ve got there,” it said, “But that doesn’t answer my question. Why are YOU, of all people, HERE?”
“I came to seek the help of my guardian animal spirit,” Ulthanon replied, no longer able to hide the bewilderment in his voice.
The wolf stared blankly for a moment, blinked twice, and laughed.
“You think I’m… oh man, that’s fucking rich. Hah! You think… that’s too good. Hold on, I have to tell the others.”
The wolf howled, a sound that somehow seemed to cause the entire world to lurch and echo back on itself. Within seconds an entire pack of wolf-spirits, each as large as the first, encircled the pair with expectant eyes. There was something said in an unspoken tongue, for after another moment, the entire pack broke out in laughter as well.
“You’re not one of ours!”
“Who the hell sent you here?”
“Long way from home, reptile. Didja get lost at the fork in the road?”
“Go crawl back under your rock!”
Heat found its way to Ulthanon’s cheeks. Was this… some sort of trick? Had the candles and incense somehow interacted maliciously with the…
“NO,” the first wolf said, a snapping sound that brought all the others to an immediate silence, “Nothing went wrong except whatever the hell is broken up in that fucking head of yours. Lemme drop some knowledge on you, kid. Your totem isn’t the wolf. It never was, it never will be. You like to think you’re a wolf totem because you tamed one to hang out with and you taught it some tricks. You talk about your friends like they’re your ‘pack’ or whatever other bullshit nonsense you’ve been spouting these past few years, and you’ve convinced yourself you’re some sort of badass with the strength of the “noble wolf spirit” backing him up. You’re not.”
Genuine fear crept up in Ulthanon’s stomach. “I… I don’t understand.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious. Listen. I don’t have time for this childish crap you’ve got going on. Leave the meat and get lost. Get it out of your head that you’re a wolf totem, and don’t come back until you have your shit in order.”
The scene started to quiver and fade; he felt himself waking up. One last chance!
“But Indarra needs my help! Without an animal spirit totem, I’ll-”
“-Either adapt, or die. Regardless you’ll get no sympathy from us. You think we’d go up against the Dreaming Panther for YOU? Go back to the waking world where you belong and stop pretending you’re a wolf-spirit shaman or whatever the hell else you think.”
He wished those damned birds would be quiet for a while.
[Fells] says: I LOBE DACNIEBG kiTTLES