Wildfire Riders

OOC: Jolly said it was okay if I came and played too, even though I'm not (yet) a Wildfire Rider. ::hopeful smile:: This is the first part in a series to show what Mia's up to for the time being, following the latest Jolly events in Current Happenings, if anyone is interested. IC-ly, Mia is... ahem... M.I.A. for the time being, but will be back! I'm looking for RP with Kasharae and Lysira, though. ::

"The Descent into Madness, Part I: Fire & Ice"


...some say the world will end in fire...

Wafer-thin embers drifted by her face on the breeze. They glowed like nattering orange insects, whispering reminders to her and dredging memories from places in her mind she would rather have ignored at that moment. They bobbed and bounced on the wind, twisting this way and that. They spun and stepped like they were dancers in a broad ballroom and had no cares in the world but the beat and the enjoyment of the dance. Circles and lines of men and women dressed and adorned in outfits of orange...

Why did they dance? Why must they dance? Did they dance to remind her?

Was it only to hurt her?

"Stop dancing, damn you," she whispered to them. Tears streaked flushed cheeks, the emotional culmination of hours... of years. Green eyes were inexorably linked to those little floating embers as a breeze carried them away from the building, the flames and from her.

Fingers of fire reached up to the night sky, contained by the boundaries of her spell to move no further than the small apartment in Stormwind. Beams and boards were ablaze and the stone walls nearly glowed from the heat. Air around the roof - or where the roof had been - shimmered all around the apartment... or house, really. It was more like a house, in that it was autonomous of other buildings. It was now fully owned by the Taborwynns, however. Miahala had purchased it from the family they had been renting it from just that evening.

No use to have an arson charge chasing her.

...some say in ice...

A cool breeze blew in from behind her and she bowed her head. Soft sobs faded into silence as she lifted her hand to wipe away the last of the tears. There would be no more tears now. The wind suddenly grew cold, but she didn't notice. Looking up again, she watched the flames dancing in the wind. Reaching higher, outside it grew hotter... almost as if the warmth of her body was being drawn away from her.

Mia closed her eyes as the memory of heat came upon her. Nothing more than a memory.

...from what I've tasted of desire...

Fingernails of one slender hand dug into the rough, pale flesh of battle-hardened shoulders usually covered by plate pauldrons. They dug deep, uncontrollable. The other hand barely kept its grasp on the low ceiling beam.

"Jolstaer."

A name, spoken with a breath and at the very edge of coherency, sanity. Auburn hair falling over the front of a disheveled robe. The clanking of metal, carelessly dropped to the floor, being shaken. Her head fell back against the wood of the wall. A dull thud with little notice given to it. A soft grunt. A kiss to the neck. He didn't say her name.

He never said her name.

...I hold with those who favor fire...

Sitting at the kitchen table, the first small fire spell ignited a dark blue robe. It had been what she was wearing four nights ago, which was the last time she'd seen him. It had been another late home-coming and another slew of angry words leading to collision - the explosion of emotion and flesh when passionate anger dissolves the people feeling it into their more primitive instincts, for as dark and primal as anger may be, there are some things that go deeper.

Tasting the first breaths of her ire, the robes had burned quickly. Far too quickly. The flames had barely time to light her eyes and whisper to her the secrets of pain before they died out from the lack of further sustenance. Many things died when they weren't fed properly. All things that lived, in one way or another. Some things could survive longer than others...

Some things died and let other things take their place.

...but if it had to perish twice...

Whispers.

Stormwind, for all its size, is a small town. Whispers reach every corner and few things go unnoticed. The seemingly innocent can be bathed in small shadows until it's sinister. Simple apathy can be spun into threads of harm. Sometimes, though, they speak truth.

Whispers from without travel as quickly as those from within.

Looking back, she found it hard to remember who it was she heard such things from. It would seem odd, as she had always been very keen on memory, but there were things shifting inside her mind. There were things shifting inside her life. She couldn't walk near the Pig and Whistle. Cathedral Square was to be avoided. And now, the whispers from the outside drove those on the inside to take care of this last thing. The simple cause and effect of rumors and truth.

Miahala had been ignoring them both as best she could for as long as she could, but there's only so long one can bear such things.

Only so long.

...I think I know enough of hate...

The robe had been first, and that was perhaps what began it all.

No. That's not quite true. It had all begun far earlier, when you peeled back all the layers and found the true heart of the matter. For the events of tonight, however, it had started with that first small fire spell. Staring at the ashes of the robe, all the many things that she had been ignoring deep within finally came up and she could ignore them no longer. The many whispers, and the many names, began to over-whelm her sanity... and it had oft been said that she was not blessed with a great amount of that in the first place.

She played with fire. There had to be a certain lack of sanity to do that.

Yet shreds remained. It did not all burn up right away, after all. Miahala knew that there were things she needed to take care of, but she was aware of the fact that she had to see to it quickly, because she would only be able to hold on for so long. The ashes were left on the table as she hurried.

Perhaps later, if they were asked, the family who originally owned the Taborwynn apartment - the Gilsons - would say that Miahala had acted normal, but that something seemed wrong. They would say that her eyes seemed distant, like she was somewhere far away. They might say that she was distracted and easily led off of focus by something happening inside her mind. Since they did not know her well, however, it was but a guess born of instinct.

Later, if asked, her sister might say that something was wrong, although she couldn't name it. When Mia asked Matila to watch Tianna, to take care of her, and tell anyone who asked not to follow her... well, she knew something was wrong. Mia's eyes were not like they usually were. There was something else in there. Matila did not know it, or recognize it, but she knew enough to be afraid of it. A faint smile played on the mage's lips. Her eyes would dart away, distracted by some debate deep inside that her sister was not going to ask about.

Matila knew that something was wrong, very wrong... but who would be foolish enough to anger one who enjoys fire the way Miahala did? Matila loved her sister, but she wasn't so foolish. She took Tianna without question or comment, for the child's sake. No, not even her own sister was foolish enough to anger or provoke Miahala so. To dance on the very dangerous edge of a woman flirting with insanity.

No, there was only one man who would do that.

...to say that for destruction ice...

"I've been a fool," Mia whispered to herself. The fire spit at the sky, as if fed by the anger that had brought it to life.

Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet. She bore a single bag with only a few necessary belongings she'd removed from the house and watched the flames eat away the last inanimate vestiges of her existence as the wife of Jolstraer Taborwynn. Sadie and Tianna were taken care of, and that was all that now mattered. It was the only shred remaining in a spirit that had otherwise unraveled after too many nights in silence, alone, and in darkness. There was a fire inside being fed, but it was a cold one.

...is also great...

Before the flames reached anyone else, before they tried to take anything standing in innocence, she lifted a hand and an icy wind blew forth and killed the flames that she had so loved. The remaining rocks fell and shattered on the ground under the weight of the ice and now there was nothing left.

Mia tilted her head and smiled, then turned and walked away.

...and would suffice...

To Be Continued...

Poem: 'Fire & Ice' by Robert Frost

"The Descent into Madness, Part II: Music"


It was music. She would have danced, but she needed to concentrate.

After walking away from the embers of what had been her home, Miahala had allowed the rush of the ancient arcane magics to fill her and she had opened a hole in the fabric of space, using the spell that allowed her to transcend any distance in the blink of an eye. Fire was preferred, but this gave her a certain rush as well. Stepping through the portal, she found herself in the bustle of Dalaran.

Mia had come North. Why had she done that? One would think it would only remind her of that which she left behind. It did, but it wasn't actually a problem. Walking through the streets, she giggled to herself. Life is worth not a single breath taken if it risks nothing.

She did not linger in Dalaran, however. It felt more like home than most places, filled with the energy of her fellow mages, but she was not to stay here today. Mia needed a more open space, somewhere that it was easier to breathe in. She loved the Grizzly Hills, but something drew her to the Borean Tundra. A little voice now hanging from her ears like jewelry said to go to the Tundra, and so... to the Tundra she went.

Frowning, she held her hand out and watched. Her eyes keenly surveyed the work and was mostly content. This was going to take a little practice, she realized, and effort to hold her concentration on the task. She kept getting distracted by the lovely music and the pretty, pretty lights.

She set foot on the airstrip belonging to the gnomes in the northern area of the Tundra and she inhaled deeply. The air was cleaner and the sky far more vast here than any city could offer. Mia shook her head and tossed her hair back over her shoulder before she set out. For a time, she walked on foot. She liked the feeling of the dirt and grass under her feet. It kept her attention in a way paved stones could not.

For a moment, she even knelt and laid her hand on the ground. Closing her eyes, she could feel it and almost transcend it to the murky red-hot depths that lingered far beneath and she took comfort in that.

Mia stood and giggled again. With a twist of her hand, she summoned her horse from the place where he remained during her time at work. Another little mage trick that filled her with a heady sort of glee for the simplicity and power of it. Obedient and loyal, he appeared instantly at her side and she settled her bag upon his saddle and then mounted. Nudging him with her heels, they rode forward along the road, arriving - by happenstance - at the encampment of D.E.H.T.A.

Giggling in a self-satisfied manner, the mage walked forward to look at what her efforts had wrought. It was sad that the music had stopped, though it kept playing in her mind.

Mia dug her hands into the charcoal and burnt bones that were once a human being. The mouth was gone, so he couldn't scream any more and the pretty music had to go away. Black dust, ash, clung to her hands as she sorted through what used to be a head. Most of the skull remained, so she had to pick it up and move it before she found the ear. Smiling, she held it up to the light. Lovely, she thought.

Before, she would've only done enough to kill him and then cut the ear off. This time, she liked the challenge of trying to burn everything except the ear. Part of the flesh had been singed off the target part though, so she knew that she still had some work to do... but all in all, she was pretty proud of herself. She stuffed the ear into her satchel. The cauterization kept it from bleeding and making a mess in her bag.

"Terrible way t' go," a voice said behind her.

Squeaking, Mia spun in her crouching position and fell back on her rear. Green eyes blinked rapidly. She didn't normally get sneaked up on. "I didn't hear you," she said. "I was listening to the music." It still played in her mind.

The mage stared up at the owner of the voice.

He was human... and tall, and it was more than just the fact that she was closer to the ground than usual. His hair was black, long and tied in a low pony tail. Eyes... green. Clear. They didn't seem to blink and the smile her gave her didn't reach them as he stepped forward and offered her a hand up. She eyed it suspiciously for a moment before she decided to accept and let him help her to her feet. He glanced at the pile of ash and bone.

"He was nothin' but a looter, a poacher," Mia said defensively, frowning. A crackling sound came from the vicinity of her hands. "Don't cry any tears from him. He killed children."

"Killed animals," the man corrected, holding up his hands defensively and giving another smile. "Sure ye've done t' same."

His accent was slight, but she guessed Northern. Of course. She was in the North. That made sense. "I've killed animals to eat, or because they were a danger and sometimes for profit, but only adults that could fight back, and I gave them quick deaths. I don't kill the babies. That man did. He trapped them, left them for days... alone... defenseless... until he decided it was worth his time to come get them and when he did, only then he gave them the mercy of death... just to skin them. I'm nothing like him."

The man was quiet for a few moments, looked like he was thinking, and then bowed his head once. "I'm sure ye're not, luv," he said. "Jus' would hate t' be on the bad end o' it," he said with a soft laugh, green eyes drifting to the body again.

Frowning still, Mia looked over her shoulder and stared at the ashes. It wasn't a body any more really. Strange how so much of a person was ultimately reduced to so little, and it could happen so quickly... but there was the proof. "Don't poach the little ones and you should be okay." She turned back to him and tried to smile. Something about him unnerved her, although she didn't know what it was. Probably being a Northerner. Damn him.

"I'll keep tha' in mind, Miss...?" he trailed off.

"Miahala. Just Miahala." Was she now Sha'hal? Was she still Taborwynn? Who was to say? Who was to care... She was free now. A giggle had to be stifled suddenly as she held her hand out to him. "And you are?"

Smiling again, he shook her hand. "Jaim," he said. "Honored t' meet ye," he said. His eyes lifted to something behind her. "Better move. I think I might have just heard a trap snapping."

Mia turned to look over her shoulder and saw, a little ways ahead, a baby mammoth caught in a steel jaw trap. The man was already forgotten as she hurried forward. The music still in her mind was at least enough to drown out the infant's cries as she moved quickly to free it.

...To Be Continued...

"The Descent into Madness, Part III: A Lesson in Bleeding"


Some time had passed.

Miahala didn't know how much time. There had been some sun and then some darkness. She'd eaten a few times. There had been a lot of music and maybe a little dancing, but this was as much as she had to recollect that any time at all had passed. Whether it was apathy or a lack of awareness... was not easily determined, but either way, she had no idea what time had gone by.

She was still in the Borean Tundra. The air was still clear and the sky was still open. She could go to the frozen places or the plagued places, or hot places. She liked the fireelementals, but never got too close. She watched from a distance.

This moment found her laying on her stomach on the mountain north of... the gnome place. It had a name. She didn't remember it. The mountain had a name too, but she didn't remember that either. It was covered in rat men and magnataurs . It was warm. Her hands were pressed against the ground as she watched little streams trickling and snaking their way through the natural crevices in the rock.

"You see," she began, "fire is wonderful. It makes a very nice sound against fleshy creatures. Crackling. Sizzling. Makes one think of a good home-cooked meal, but it doesn't always fit the purpose you need." One hand lifted and reached out. She bit her bottom lip thoughtfully, touching a finger into the stream. It was warm to the touch. She smiled. "Sometimes you have to go with ice."

An entire palm this time and then she brought her hand up and rolled over on to her back, looking at it. She held her hand near her face. It dripped, splashing against her skin like sticky rain. "See, the right ice spell is sharp. It can cut the body apart. Don't use too much, or you slow the blood stream down and then it don't do what you want, but just enough to slice. Some spells can go right through and then you get all you need. Fire burns it up, or burns the holes shut. Then what good is it?"

Splash.

It was slowing now, though. She giggled and then sighed. It hadn't lasted long, but was fun while it did. She settled her blood-soaked hand artlessly against her stomach and looked into the sky, then back over her head. It was an awkward angle, but she could see themagnataur corpse laying a little above her. It had made a nice river, but eventually had run out.

A crunching noise alerted her to the presence of someone walking towards her, interrupting her solitude. Blinking, she frowned and then pushed herself up to a sitting position. Little drops and splatters had dried on her face, but she didn't notice much.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

It was that man. The man she'd met before... the day before? Who could say. It was the one who'd interrupted her ear collecting. His name... was Jaim . Yes. She remembered that much. He had a smile that didn't rise like most people's did - didn't come up to his eyes. Green eyes.

He was smiling now. He looked... amused. Somewhere deep down, a voice suggested that she should be offended but the rest of her couldn't be bothered to work up the indignation. She was more over-whelmed by curiosity. It wasn't uncommon to run into people more than once, even in expanses as broad as the Tundra, since a lot of people round here needed tasks done. People could stay in one area for a long while. Still. This felt strange. Was he following her?

"Just gettin' a little work done," he replied easily. Walking the rest of the steps to cross the distance between them, he knelt next to her. "Moved off t' fire, I see?"

"For now," she replied, eying him suspiciously. "I was trying something new."

Lifting his head, he looked at the corpse. She didn't think that his eyes missed much of anything, because his gaze was one of those types that reminded her of birds, the hunting birds more specifically. Like the eagles she had seen in the Grizzly Hills - predator's eyes that saw everything. He probably saw the little rat men hands that stuck out from under the bigger beast. They didn't bleed much, though.

Jaim turned his attention back to her. He didn't say anything yet and there was no reproach in his gaze, but she felt almost... guilty for what she'd done. It was a transient feeling, but in its wake, it left disquietude.

"I need to go clean up," Mia said in a quiet, distracted voice as she looked away.

"There's some water nae far from here," Jaim said. He rose to his feet with a speed and grace that Mia wouldn't have guessed for a man his size. She saw now that he was wearing some armor, like other adventurers out this way. It was plate and looked heavy, but it didn't seem to hinder him. For the second time, he held his hand out to help her up and she accepted it. "I'll walk with ye," he added.

Miahala wasn't sure how to take this offer. What did he want from her? "Don't need to," she replied, still suspicious. Maybe a little paranoid. She walked over to where she'd left her bag and picked it up, slung it over her shoulder.

He shook his head. "It's nae trouble."

His accent wandered in and out of his speech. Some thought in the far back of Mia's mind noticed this and reasoned that it had once been stronger, but he was trying to over-come it... with some but not total success.

Disconcerted, Miahala began walking. She knew where the water was.

Neither of them spoke as they walked. She didn't know why he was silent, but she knew she was quiet because she didn't know what to say. At least, the part of her that knew what 'polite conversation' was was in charge and it didn't know what to say. Other parts of her mind wanted to speak and had the words. Soon, one of them took control of her mouth.

"Why are you following me?"

Jaim smiled again, still looking amused. "I thought that ye might like a little more company than just t' dead," he replied. "Or their blood," he added. One hand reached up and touched her face to clean off some of the blood on her cheek.

It startled her and her first reaction was defensive. There was a loud crackling noise and fire erupted, encasing his hand. He stumbled back, letting out a short yell before white light began to shine around him. The light made the flames die. The burning flesh was quieted and then healed, and the light went away. It lasted only as long as the fire burned.

"Paladin," Mia whispered, as if it was some foreign concept. Something distasteful.

With one hand holding the other, he gave her a slightly pained half-smile. "Don't like t' be touched," he said. It was half statement and half question. "Sorry abou' that then," he went on with a small shake of his hand.

There had been no sound of cracking to attend it, but all the same, something had snapped again. It was something that hadn't really been sewn back together, but it cracked none the less. This wound bled emotions and the desperate need for action. Arcane magic filled Mia as surely as the fear and hatred did. Space and reality were torn apart behind her and before another thing could be said or done, she spun and dove through the portal, landing once more in Dalaran.

...To Be Continued...

"The Descent into Madness, Part IV: Letters to Home"


As appealing as the open space had been before, a nice enclosed space held appeal now. Once she had regathered her wits following her flight to Dalaran, Miahala had taken a room at an Inn where she could collect her thoughts. They had been scattered and frantic for reasons she hadn't entirely understood and even as time passed, it always moved forward whether she wanted it to or not, and she calmed down, she still didn't understand.

Later... the next day, maybe, she didn't know... time was strange... she walked through the streets of the mage city with her head down. Occasionally, she glanced up.

Once, she thought she saw someone she recognized. It was someone she knew as someone she had once been. Jolstraer. The name appeared in her mind. It pulled at her insides in a funny way. Stumbling, she walked backwards. She was on his blind side - the one without the wide range because of the eye patch - and so he hadn't seen her, or so she hoped as she moved back, then spun and hurried away. She returned to her room at the Inn.

Something stirred in her mind. She sat on the edge of the bed, hands gripping the corner of her mattress as she rocked back and forth for a few moments. Her throat was tight with emotion, for a time, until the quiet came again... and the whispers died off.

When the quiet came, so did the memories. Mia sat still and let them come, although she passed most of them over as too painful to recollect. The ones she did let in were those of her daughters. It was a dagger to her, double-edged and sharp, because the comfort of those thoughts were just as rife with guilt. Deep in her heart and far back in her mind, she knew she had done the right thing. Her children did not need to witness what took place.

Yet... not all of her had vanished. Sitting in this little room with the quiet and her own thoughts for company, the Miahala who had been in the apartment that morning... the one who existed before the rage, and the fire, and the cracking... that one re-surfaced and walked to the desk. She took some parchment and began to pen a letter to her daughter, the mother in her heart not wanting her daughter to misunderstand.

My dearest Sadie,

I am so sorry that I had to leave the way I did and that I didn't see you first. I've not been myself lately and I needed to go away for a while. Please know that it has nothing to do with you, my wonderful girl. You and your sister are, and shall ever be, lights in my life. Your sister is well, I promise. My sister will be watching over her while I am unable to take care of her properly.

This is not something that I can explain, although I would if I could. I don't know how long I will need to be away, but I will write to you when I can to assure you that I'm okay. I cannot tell you where I am, as I do not want anyone to find me as I now am, but when I'm... better again, I will let you know.

I love you,

Your mother

As she looked up from her writing, Miahala realized that there were tears coming down her cheeks. Reaching a trembling slender hand up, she touched her cheek and found that the tears were cold and yet her cheeks were flushed and warm. How strange. She gave a small shudder and then folded the letter, sealing it. She carried it to the mailbox outside of the Inn and mailed it.

Mia walked back to her room. As she did, the internal struggle was already beginning again. There had been a brief respite and things had been clear, but with each step that was fading away. She wasn't watching where she was going, turned too far inwards to do so, but she reached her room without trouble.

Shutting the door behind her, she thought about the Tundra, and ears, and giggled.

...To Be Continued...

"The Descent into Madness, Part V: From Dreams"


The day was a sunny one and there was a warm breeze blowing through the park. Life in Stormwind on that day buzzed and hummed with its usual activity. Sadie was twelve, full of life and curiosity. Her energy seemed boundless and her joy was infectious. Even Jol was smiling as the small family made its way through the park, taking a walk to gain advantage of the lovely day.

Miahala was carrying Tianna within her, although the day grew close when their child - they didn't know it was a girl, then - would make her appearance into the world. The baby was apparently as susceptible to her sister's energy as their parents were, as Mia could feel the child moving in her womb. It was almost like the little one was dancing.

"I think I'm carrying a dancer," she commented with a soft laugh. She held her stomach with one hand, although that actually accomplished very little, but it made her feel better. Sadie was just a little ways ahead, talking to a butterfly, and Mia nodded to Jol and then to a bench. She needed to sit.

"Reallah nae?" Jol asked. His usual sobriety was at least a little warmed by the day and the company. As Miahala sat down heavily on the bench, he knelt in front of her and put his hand on her extended abdomen. A strange look crossed his face. She knew he wouldn't speak it, but she had the idea that he was thinking about Adranna and his first child.

They never spoke of her, of either of them, but Mia knew... knew enough, at least.

"I think it's a girl," Mia said quietly, giving him a small smile. "I knew Sadie was a girl when I carried her and I have the same feeling with this one. I think the girls dance more, when still inside."

"Ah'm surroun'ed bah wimmen," Jol muttered, but there was a warmth in his voice that told her he didn't mean it poorly.

Mia laughed quietly, smiling warmly. "Few men are so lucky to be so surrounded by beautiful women," she joked.

...a little ways off, another person entered the familial scene. It was Miahala, but not that Miahala. That Miahala was still there, still carrying Tianna and sharing a moment of affection with her husband. This Miahala, the one that had just... appeared, or entered this memory... was the one that existed presently. It was the subconscious representation of the one who, in the 'real world', was sleeping restlessly on a bed roll in the Howling Fjord.

"Yeh knae, if 'et's ah boah, yeh'll ne'er heah tha en' o'et," Jolstraer was saying.

"I know, I know," his wife laughed. "But I'm not going to be wrong."

The current Mia walked up to them and felt a tremble in her stomach. "Hey," she said, but couldn't yet make her voice rise above a whisper. They didn't seem to hear her, though, so she walked forward a little further. "Hey!" This time it was louder. They still didn't turn to her and instead kept talking, joking, smiling. "Hey, listen to me!" Now she was shouting. "Don't you know how this will end?!"

Even from where she stood, Mia could see the distant look in Jol's eye, though it was not that he was completely gone either. Her past self seemed to ignore it and let the moment live as it would. Jolstraer stretched up to kiss her.

"Don't!" Present Mia shouted louder. "You'll only end up hurt! Don't you see?! Can't you tell?! How stupid are you?!" She was crying. Tears were streaming down her face and she stumbled. Her stomach pulled at itself. "You idiot! Open your eyes! It won't end in any good way and you know it. You knew it then and you know it now, I know you do! LISTEN TO ME!"

Yet... they didn't. They kept fooling themselves.

Present Mia screamed and the world disappeared in a torrent of fire.

Miahala woke screaming, and this was for several reasons. The first reason was because of the dream and the emotions from it. The second, but slightly more pressing, was that her bedroll was on fire.

Throwing herself away from the flames, an icy wind blasted from and at her. It put out the flames, but the bedroll was mostly destroyed. Several places of her night shift were also burnt and those areas of her body were now red and inflamed. They hurt terribly and her body trembled. For several moments, she couldn't do anything except look down at her own damaged body and then at the remains of her bed roll.

Sure, she could (and would) purchase another on the morrow... but she had no spells to heal herself, and there was no spell to heal damaged pride.

It had been many, many years - since she was a novice at her mage training - since she'd accidentally started a spell, and never while she was sleeping. (Well, there had been a few ...distracted nights with Jol... but did that really count as accidental?)

Mia felt her throat began to hurt with impending tears and it bubbled up as a laugh. A crazy sounding laugh. A painful laugh. She laughed and laughed, and laughed so hard that she began to weep... and couldn't stop.

...To Be Continued...

"The Descent into Madness, Part VI: Shallow Holes"


Miahala could see the vague outline of a shoveltusk bull through the haze of fire and heat.

With one hand held out before her, the flame spell was building and growing to full potency. The green and brown of the hills near Kamagua surrounded her and the snow sparkled in the distance, but she took little note of it. The beast ahead of her was snorting and pawing at the ground, angry for being captive in a block of ice and wanting his revenge on the mage who had done it, and was building a blast of fire for him.

From outside the crackling red she looked through, she could hear the sound of blade against flesh as the shoveltusk was beat upon by a second assailant, although the bull had blazing red in his eyes only for her. That was all right, though. The mage and the shoveltusk were sharing a similar homicidal feeling for one another. The animal had only one level of instinct, while the human had sunk down a few to meet him on his.

"Come and get me," she whispered as the fire spell ignited and shot forward from her hand, blasting against the horns and head of the beast. It lit on fire and broke loose of the ice, charging forward. Burning head down, it rushed her and caught her. A second spell had just left her - less powerful but quicker to be cast. Shoveltusk horns met human torso right as spell met animal and both fell down.

Mia groaned and hauled herself to her feet. The shoveltusk lay still. Her side was bleeding, but it wasn't a bad wound - just flesh. It wasn't near any of the not-fully-healed burns from the bad night that was almost forgotten now.

"Ye all right?" Jaim asked, walking over.

"Yes," she replied, out of breath and looking down at the body. She then gave a dark, dry look at Jaim. "I thought you shield sorts were supposed to be good at keeping the attention of creatures, so they down spear mages," she muttered as memories flickered through her field of vision and were then cast aside.

He smiled and shrugged. "Sorry," he said. "I guess some o' us are just better than others."

She grunted softly, noncommittally, and limped to her bag. Kneeling carefully, she felt pain run through her side. She winced, but she enjoyed the pain too. Blood was flowing freely down her side. She could feel it warm, sticky, against her hip. The shredded edges of the hole in her robes clung to it. Her skin shifted as she sorted through her bag and pain moved in spidering lines along her body. She grit her teeth, and smiled, and found a bandage.

In due course, she had painfully pulled cloth from the wounds and then wrapped her abdomen in the bandage - snug, made it a little hard to breathe - but it kept the blood in.

"I appreciate your help," she said later. Maybe it had been an hour, maybe not. It was hard to say. She didn't know. Dressed in new robes over the bandages, she sat cross-legged in front of the dead shoveltusk. She had a knife and had already cut it open. Hands covered in blood that she didn't seem to notice, she sawed through muscle. It wasn't pretty, but she got what she wanted.

"Don't mention it," Jaim replied, kneeling a few feet away, sharpening the edge of his sword. "Ye aren't afraid o' much, are ye?"

Deep inside the guts of the shoveltusk, Mia paused. She frowned and turned her head, glancing briefly side-long at Jaim. She was silent and still for several long moments. "I'm afraid of some things," she whispered and then turned back in a sharp gesture to say she was done with this conversation, ripping muscles apart once again. What did this man know? She had just agreed to let him help her while she worked here. He didn't know her. She wasn't going to tell him anything.

There was silence for a time. "Don't have someone waitin' on ye somewhere?" he asked.

Mia frowned again. He was talking too bloody much. "No," she replied, a little petulantly. "I have no one waiting on me. All who need to know, know all they need to."

"Well now, isn't that a cryptic answer," he quipped infuriatingly. "A lovely woman like ye must have a husband, or lover, waitin' on ye?"

"No," she said coldly. "I told you. I don't have anyone." She paused and looked at him side-long again. "And I'm not looking either."

Jaim held up his hands and smiled again. "I wasn't comin' on t' ye, lass," he said. "I'm just trying t' make conversation. Quiet day out an' dirty business. Some nice conversation seems just t' thing to make it all even out."

Letting out a heavy sigh, she dropped another strip of meat onto the growing pile, shaking off her hand and then wiping hair off her face without any care for the blood that smeared over her pale skin and into her hair. "Well, don't worry about trying so hard," she said quietly, suspiciously. What was he trying to get out of her? She didn't know him and had never heard his name, so she was pretty sure he wasn't associated with anyone she knew. Was he following her? Did someone send him after her?

What did he want with her?

"You don't have to hang around," she said. The urge to flee was rising high in her chest and she began sawing at internal organs with renewed vigor, splashing blood back on her when she cut something or other open. "You must have some place that you need to be."

"I wouldn't want to leave ye alone out here," he said. "It's not t' safest o' spots."

She threw a slab of meat on the pile with a wet slapping noise. "I'm just fine," she replied. There came a crackling noise, unbidden by her, and the muscle under her palm sizzled. Who could he be working for? Jol wouldn't have sent anyone. She felt sure of that. She didn't know who else would be concerned enough to do so... her daughter wouldn't, for fear of upsetting her mother. "I'm just fine." She turned to the pile and wrapped it several times over in skins, tying it and putting it in her bag to take to the village. "Tell who ever you're workin' for to leave me alone!"

Hauling herself to her feet, she stalked off. The smell of smoke lingered behind her, along with Jaim's calling of her name.

"The Descent into Madness, Part VII: Trail Gone Hot"


Miahala was back in Dalaran.

Had all aspects of her brain been working in the manner that they used to, she would have realized this was foolish. She knew too many people who came to Dalaran. Somewhere in her mind was the fear of this and it translated into the higher functions in the form of paranoia - but not so much for her to not be there. After some time in the Fjord, she had craved the mage city. She liked the feeling of the arcane that surrounded her here.

Further on the foolish list was her heading into the underbelly. She didn't go down there often, but she need something. Her hood was pulled close around her face and that wasn't an unusual sight down here, so no one gave her a second glance except to estimate how much gold she might be carrying and if she was wearing any jewelry. Mia was moving swiftly and with great purpose...

...a great purpose that was forgotten when she suddenly felt a hand grab her by the shoulder and yank her roughly to the side and into one of the large drainage pipes that lined the underbelly's roads.

She felt her back slam hard against the stone as she was pushed into it. A rough hand grabbed her wrist and lifted it up.

The dim light reflected dully off the simple gold band that sat on the ring finger of her left hand - a ring that one would've thought she'd have taken off, but she hadn't. The thief's face grinned, showing off his missing tooth as he though he had caught a prize in the deceptively small woman before him. It was clear in his face that he thought he'd won, meeting Mia's gaze inside the shadows of her cloak. Her eyes were frightened and still as he pulled the ring off her finger.

"And what else have you got for me," he said in a low tone. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she sneered with disbelief - an amateur playing the role of the big time criminal. She'd met and been on good terms with true players in the darker side of the law, and lawlessness. This man was a fool and acting foolish.

Stepping forward, as though to walk away, his broad hand caught her hard in the abdomen and shoved her back against the wall. He caught the bandaged wound and she grunted. Her head smacked back against the wall and her hood fell down, revealing her face in the pale light. His eyes were... lascivious.

Mia smiled slowly.

Now the man frowned. "What the hell are you smiling at, bitch?" he spat. He was obviously, painfully obviously, disconcerted by her smile. A laugh boiled upward from her gut and she just laughed and smiled. He frowned. "Stop that!" he shouted, but she didn't. He shouted again and when she didn't stop, he lifted his hand and backhanded her across the face hard enough to send her to her hands and knees.

She lifted her head and licked the blood away from the corner of her lip, and laughed again. The air became electric with heat and the sound of crackling. Her laughter mixed in with the snapping and popping of the flames that licked their way up from his boots. The sounds were mangled by his screams, but they were short lived. Screaming wasn't really uncommon down here either. No one came.

"You should investigate your victims better," Mia advised him as she crawled over to the half-charred body. His right hand was only slightly scathed, still clutching the wedding ring that had 'Jolstraer & Miahala' inscribed on the inside of the band. She'd forgotten it by now, though, lost in her own mind as she looked down at the dirty body laying in front of her. His face... half burnt... reminded her of someone she once knew.

But who?

Thinking back to the Tundra, she considered taking his ear. Yet, something else came to her. She didn't know why it came to her, but it did and she liked it. She giggled when the thought was upon her. It had something to do with the memory that wouldn't come when called, hiding in the back of her subconscious like a frightened child. Mia pulled her knife from her bag, the knife with the dried shoveltusk blood on it, and leaned over the head.

The eyeball made a quiet popping noise as she plucked the right eye out of the socket. Speared on the tip of her knife, she held it up to the light and admired it for a moment before dropping both into her bag and hurrying off with little care for the signs she left behind.

She wasn't much remembering what was left behind, these days... at least, not most of the time.

...To Be Continued...


OOC: Anyone is free to come upon this body and make of it what they will - they can find the inscribed ring in his hand, notice the vague resemblance to a particular favorite northerner, and the missing right eyeball... and do with it what ye might like, if anything at all. In a few days, if I have the time for it, I'm going to be looking for someone to RP with in game to encounter Mia somewhere. If anyone might like to help, let me know?

Also, I thank and apologize to anyone who's made it this far. I've taken this thread as a writing exercise for myself to try to post at least one part each day, so thank you to those who've been reading and I hope you've been enjoying crazy Mia as much as I have! ...and I'm not quite done yet. ^_^

((If you stop writing, I will be /pissed/ with you. Keep going.))

((And you're one of the very few people around who I'm actually scared of, so I will definitely keep writing!))

((Just kidding... sort of... ^_^ ::goes back off to contemplate crazy-land::))

((BAH! Be scared of me! /flex))