Post by vendredi on May 3, 2007 17:29:51 GMT -5
((Ok - be aware that I don't use chatlogs when I write, so this will be far from word for word - I simply try and recreate the spirit of what was said, and what people felt/appeared to do from Mel's perspective. Feel free to jump in from your point of view.))
Melessendra sat on the beach just outside the Grom'gol gates, gazing out over the crystal blue expanse of water. The softly rolling waves sighed over the sand, a soothing sound that did little to quell the turmoil in her heart. Her knees were drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped protectively around them, as the Shadow was wrapped around her small form. Around and within, a voice inside her whispered. It is a part of you, as you are of It. She shivered, and watched the waves, wondering how it had all gone so wrong.
It had been the beginning of a beautiful evening in Nagrand. She had sat quietly by the main hut of Garadar, and found herself loathe to fight anything. Then Sollae's voice had burst to life from the stone medallion around her neck.
"Anyone want to come for a drink? Kerrig and I are at the tavern in Brill."
Normally, Melessendra avoided taverns whenever possible - those who were drunk either appalled or frightened her, or both. This night, however, she felt a sudden longing for company.
"I am on my way," she said to the stone. Enchanted by Yagrek and Salthair, the stone transmitted the voice of the wearer to all guild members who wore one like it, and sent theirs back in return. She rose, and headed for the windrider.
The tavern in Brill was a dismal sight beneath the ever-present grey cloud that blanketed Tirisfal Glades. On the threshold, Melessendra paused, suddenly apprehensive. She had never before met Sollae in person, or many of the new guild members. Memories of Sollae's initial hatred and revulsion over the undead in the guild rose up, and she swallowed hard against the lump of fear in her throat. As she stood, struggling with her doubts, a peal of laughter rolled out of the tavern, and with an effort, she banished such thoughts. Sollae and I have shared our pain. We are friends now. Taking a deep breath, she went inside.
The first person she saw, a broad figure sitting close to the bar, was Kerrig, and her nerves settled somewhat. Beside him sat a slender, blonde girl, with the long ears and delicate features of a blood elf. Kerrig waved as he caught sight of her, and the elf turned, a smile lighting her face as she laid eyes on Melessendra.
"Mel!" she said brightly, bounding to her feet, then wobbling as though she were about to fall. She's drunk, Melessendra thought, suddenly wary. She had never yet had a positive encounter with someone in their cups, but Kerrig was there, a solid immovable bastion of reassurance. She made her way over to them, and took the chair beside Sollae. Sitting across from her was a male blood elf, regarding her curiously.
"Um....Sollae, would you introduce me to your friend?" she asked softly. Sollae's gaze wandered from one to the other, and her beautiful golden eyes widened.
"Oh....how rude of me," she said, her voice melodious, but her words slurred. "Mel, this is Horonis."
"A pleasure," the elf said, and stood long enough to make an elegant bow. Melessendra felt her face flush, and dropped her eyes. For the first time in a while, she felt regret that she had died before having a romantic encounter. Kerrig greeted her as he always did, solemnly but with a warmth that always made her feel at home. She noticed that the drinks stood on the table next to him, but he did not offer her one. Sollae chattered away, talking about everything and nothing all at once. Horonis answered her every comment, solicitious to a fault. Kerrig said little, but took an occasional pull from his mug. Yagrek arrived shortly afterward, and took a place on the floor by the chairs. Melessendra eyed Kerrig's bulky frame crouched on the small chair, and wondered if he was comfortable. I don't think orcs were built for chairs - or the other way around. No wonder there are none in Orgrimmar.
Sollae had obviously had much to drink, and continued to drink at an astounding rate. She slopped ale on herself during a particularly dramatic statement, and staggered off to change. When she came back, Melessendra's eyes nearly popped out of her head. Sollae was wearing nothing but a tiny half-shirt that bared her midriff entirely and left her breasts halfway bare. She seemed unaware of the difference in her attire, but Horonis certainly did. His eyes widened, and then, to his credit, climbed manfully until they rested firmly at her eye level once more.
"Sollae," Melessendra whispered, "Half of your shirt is missing."
The elf's gaze travelled down to her midsection, but she seemed unperturbed. "Is this shirt not appropriate? But my dress is wet..."
Yagrek eyed the two of them, quietly amused. "Be aware, Sollae, that Melessendra grew up in a monastery. There is nothing wrong with your clothing." His eyes twinkled as he spoke, and Melessendra nearly smiled. Yagrek always surprised her when he broke from his normally serene countenance. Salthair strolled in as they were talking, and greeted everyone warmly. Sollae introduced Horonis to the old troll, who, as he always did with newcomers, promptly offered him some fish. Melessendra hid a smile behind the ale she had managed to wrangle from Kerrig.
"You do remember that the last time you drank, you were sick for days," he admonished.
"I did not know how strong it was then," she protested, taking a cautious sip. It tasted terrible, but as she drank, it sent tendrils of warmth through her body. She rarely felt warm, and the sensation was welcome. Sollae, despite her drunkeness, began to eye her strangely.
"Mel," she said, "you're glowing."
Melessendra looked down, and drew in a sharp breath. Her body was still wreathed in the Shadow that gave her so much power. Normally she dropped Shadowform when in a town, but she had spent the evening relaxing and had never noticed. She concentrated briefly, but to her surprise and alarm, the Shadow did not recede.
Why do you abandon it? A voice hissed softly in her head. We are one, you and I. A chill ran down her spine, and she tried again, drawing on more of her strength. With a sigh of disappointment, the Shadow melted away. Melessendra looked around, worried that someone had seen, or heard, but the group continued with their conversation.
As Melessendra finished her third drink, a figure suddenly appeared behind her, seemingly from nowhere. She jumped up, startled, and nearly called back the Shadow as a young female troll plopped down in the seat she had vacated, saying a cheerful hello to everyone. The voice she recognized from conversations over the Stone amulets as Nahgemmii's, and she calmed herself with an effort.
"How's ever'one doin'?" the troll asked as Melessendra found a seat next to Horonis. Nahgemmii was slender and lovely, a far cry from the savage blue creatures Melessendra had heard tales of so long ago, and her fire-colored eyes sparkled in the lamplight. With no further ado, Nahgemmii began to drink as deeply as Sollae, falling easily into the conversation as Dralto, the older undead she had met during Grokus' redemption ceremony, hobbled in. He nodded to everyone, and sat beside her. Melessendra nursed her drink and tried not to look uncomfortable. This was the largest gathering she had ever been to, and she felt she had little to add to the talk flying to and fro. Nahgemmii, her blue complexion now tinged with the rosiness of drink, eyed her curiously. "You a'right, Mel? You all bent ovah like you ready to t'row up or som'tin'."
Melessendra looked down, and blushed as she realized that her back was curved like an old crone's. "I...suppose I do not sit as straight as I did....in life," she stammered.
"It must be the whole....dead...thing," Horonis added, eyeing her critically, and she felt her stomach twist at his gaze.
Nahgemmii made a face, and nodded. "I not used to de undead," she said, wrinkling her nose distastefully. "De skin make me queasy."
Melessendra's eyes widened in shock and hurt. The warmth that had suffused her vanished, and it seemed as though everyone around her, all those still full of life, looked on her with revulsion. She looked to Kerrig, but he was gone, and she remembered now that he had left to get more drinks, as the tavern sold only water and juices.
"I....I am tired now," she said, her voice weak. She stood and made goodbyes while fighting tears. Unaware, the other young ones continued to laugh and chat, and without another word, she fled out into the night.
Now she sat on the beach near Grom'gol, thinking. I've been fooling myself. The living will never accept me as one of their own - truly, why should they? I am a monster, with only one course left to me - to fight until I crumble to dust. Tears trickled down her cheeks as regret washed over her, regret over her lost life, and all the experiences now denied her. Her heart ached until she thought it would split in two; only the coolness of the Shadow enshrouding her kept her from casting herself into the waves until the water took away her travesty of a life.
Wait.....the waves....
She remembered the night that Grokus had been drowned, how his life was swallowed by the sea as his family held him beneath the surface. The sea, the Deep One, as Father Salthair called it, had taken away his burdens, his pain. The Father had brought him back from death, but he must have wanted to return, wanted it very much....
"The sea is very peaceful tonight," she murmured as she watched the waves, forgetful of the stone still at her neck.
"De sea is a'ways peaceful chil'," came Salthair's voice over the stone.
"Melessendra," Kerrig's voice cut in, "why did you leave without saying goodbye?"
"I - the tavern was stuffy," she said, not wanting to worry him. He made a thoughtful noise, but said nothing more.
She smiled wryly. "Father, do you remember what I said - about the drowning?"
"I do," he answered. "Why?"
She let her gaze roam over the waves, their rhythmic movements soothing, almost hypnotizing. "I am no longer afraid," she said.
"Den we be talkin' latah," he said, but his tone was oddly neutral, not approving as she had thought it would be. Not that it mattered anymore.
"I think I will sleep on the beach," she said. "Goodnight,"
Sollae said goodnight, and Nahgemmii said something about crocolisks, but she was no longer listening. She pulled the medallion from around her neck, dropped it into her pack, and lay down on a patch of cool grass scant yards from the sea. Lulled by its gentle melody, and its promise of peace, she fell asleep.
Melessendra sat on the beach just outside the Grom'gol gates, gazing out over the crystal blue expanse of water. The softly rolling waves sighed over the sand, a soothing sound that did little to quell the turmoil in her heart. Her knees were drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped protectively around them, as the Shadow was wrapped around her small form. Around and within, a voice inside her whispered. It is a part of you, as you are of It. She shivered, and watched the waves, wondering how it had all gone so wrong.
It had been the beginning of a beautiful evening in Nagrand. She had sat quietly by the main hut of Garadar, and found herself loathe to fight anything. Then Sollae's voice had burst to life from the stone medallion around her neck.
"Anyone want to come for a drink? Kerrig and I are at the tavern in Brill."
Normally, Melessendra avoided taverns whenever possible - those who were drunk either appalled or frightened her, or both. This night, however, she felt a sudden longing for company.
"I am on my way," she said to the stone. Enchanted by Yagrek and Salthair, the stone transmitted the voice of the wearer to all guild members who wore one like it, and sent theirs back in return. She rose, and headed for the windrider.
The tavern in Brill was a dismal sight beneath the ever-present grey cloud that blanketed Tirisfal Glades. On the threshold, Melessendra paused, suddenly apprehensive. She had never before met Sollae in person, or many of the new guild members. Memories of Sollae's initial hatred and revulsion over the undead in the guild rose up, and she swallowed hard against the lump of fear in her throat. As she stood, struggling with her doubts, a peal of laughter rolled out of the tavern, and with an effort, she banished such thoughts. Sollae and I have shared our pain. We are friends now. Taking a deep breath, she went inside.
The first person she saw, a broad figure sitting close to the bar, was Kerrig, and her nerves settled somewhat. Beside him sat a slender, blonde girl, with the long ears and delicate features of a blood elf. Kerrig waved as he caught sight of her, and the elf turned, a smile lighting her face as she laid eyes on Melessendra.
"Mel!" she said brightly, bounding to her feet, then wobbling as though she were about to fall. She's drunk, Melessendra thought, suddenly wary. She had never yet had a positive encounter with someone in their cups, but Kerrig was there, a solid immovable bastion of reassurance. She made her way over to them, and took the chair beside Sollae. Sitting across from her was a male blood elf, regarding her curiously.
"Um....Sollae, would you introduce me to your friend?" she asked softly. Sollae's gaze wandered from one to the other, and her beautiful golden eyes widened.
"Oh....how rude of me," she said, her voice melodious, but her words slurred. "Mel, this is Horonis."
"A pleasure," the elf said, and stood long enough to make an elegant bow. Melessendra felt her face flush, and dropped her eyes. For the first time in a while, she felt regret that she had died before having a romantic encounter. Kerrig greeted her as he always did, solemnly but with a warmth that always made her feel at home. She noticed that the drinks stood on the table next to him, but he did not offer her one. Sollae chattered away, talking about everything and nothing all at once. Horonis answered her every comment, solicitious to a fault. Kerrig said little, but took an occasional pull from his mug. Yagrek arrived shortly afterward, and took a place on the floor by the chairs. Melessendra eyed Kerrig's bulky frame crouched on the small chair, and wondered if he was comfortable. I don't think orcs were built for chairs - or the other way around. No wonder there are none in Orgrimmar.
Sollae had obviously had much to drink, and continued to drink at an astounding rate. She slopped ale on herself during a particularly dramatic statement, and staggered off to change. When she came back, Melessendra's eyes nearly popped out of her head. Sollae was wearing nothing but a tiny half-shirt that bared her midriff entirely and left her breasts halfway bare. She seemed unaware of the difference in her attire, but Horonis certainly did. His eyes widened, and then, to his credit, climbed manfully until they rested firmly at her eye level once more.
"Sollae," Melessendra whispered, "Half of your shirt is missing."
The elf's gaze travelled down to her midsection, but she seemed unperturbed. "Is this shirt not appropriate? But my dress is wet..."
Yagrek eyed the two of them, quietly amused. "Be aware, Sollae, that Melessendra grew up in a monastery. There is nothing wrong with your clothing." His eyes twinkled as he spoke, and Melessendra nearly smiled. Yagrek always surprised her when he broke from his normally serene countenance. Salthair strolled in as they were talking, and greeted everyone warmly. Sollae introduced Horonis to the old troll, who, as he always did with newcomers, promptly offered him some fish. Melessendra hid a smile behind the ale she had managed to wrangle from Kerrig.
"You do remember that the last time you drank, you were sick for days," he admonished.
"I did not know how strong it was then," she protested, taking a cautious sip. It tasted terrible, but as she drank, it sent tendrils of warmth through her body. She rarely felt warm, and the sensation was welcome. Sollae, despite her drunkeness, began to eye her strangely.
"Mel," she said, "you're glowing."
Melessendra looked down, and drew in a sharp breath. Her body was still wreathed in the Shadow that gave her so much power. Normally she dropped Shadowform when in a town, but she had spent the evening relaxing and had never noticed. She concentrated briefly, but to her surprise and alarm, the Shadow did not recede.
Why do you abandon it? A voice hissed softly in her head. We are one, you and I. A chill ran down her spine, and she tried again, drawing on more of her strength. With a sigh of disappointment, the Shadow melted away. Melessendra looked around, worried that someone had seen, or heard, but the group continued with their conversation.
As Melessendra finished her third drink, a figure suddenly appeared behind her, seemingly from nowhere. She jumped up, startled, and nearly called back the Shadow as a young female troll plopped down in the seat she had vacated, saying a cheerful hello to everyone. The voice she recognized from conversations over the Stone amulets as Nahgemmii's, and she calmed herself with an effort.
"How's ever'one doin'?" the troll asked as Melessendra found a seat next to Horonis. Nahgemmii was slender and lovely, a far cry from the savage blue creatures Melessendra had heard tales of so long ago, and her fire-colored eyes sparkled in the lamplight. With no further ado, Nahgemmii began to drink as deeply as Sollae, falling easily into the conversation as Dralto, the older undead she had met during Grokus' redemption ceremony, hobbled in. He nodded to everyone, and sat beside her. Melessendra nursed her drink and tried not to look uncomfortable. This was the largest gathering she had ever been to, and she felt she had little to add to the talk flying to and fro. Nahgemmii, her blue complexion now tinged with the rosiness of drink, eyed her curiously. "You a'right, Mel? You all bent ovah like you ready to t'row up or som'tin'."
Melessendra looked down, and blushed as she realized that her back was curved like an old crone's. "I...suppose I do not sit as straight as I did....in life," she stammered.
"It must be the whole....dead...thing," Horonis added, eyeing her critically, and she felt her stomach twist at his gaze.
Nahgemmii made a face, and nodded. "I not used to de undead," she said, wrinkling her nose distastefully. "De skin make me queasy."
Melessendra's eyes widened in shock and hurt. The warmth that had suffused her vanished, and it seemed as though everyone around her, all those still full of life, looked on her with revulsion. She looked to Kerrig, but he was gone, and she remembered now that he had left to get more drinks, as the tavern sold only water and juices.
"I....I am tired now," she said, her voice weak. She stood and made goodbyes while fighting tears. Unaware, the other young ones continued to laugh and chat, and without another word, she fled out into the night.
Now she sat on the beach near Grom'gol, thinking. I've been fooling myself. The living will never accept me as one of their own - truly, why should they? I am a monster, with only one course left to me - to fight until I crumble to dust. Tears trickled down her cheeks as regret washed over her, regret over her lost life, and all the experiences now denied her. Her heart ached until she thought it would split in two; only the coolness of the Shadow enshrouding her kept her from casting herself into the waves until the water took away her travesty of a life.
Wait.....the waves....
She remembered the night that Grokus had been drowned, how his life was swallowed by the sea as his family held him beneath the surface. The sea, the Deep One, as Father Salthair called it, had taken away his burdens, his pain. The Father had brought him back from death, but he must have wanted to return, wanted it very much....
"The sea is very peaceful tonight," she murmured as she watched the waves, forgetful of the stone still at her neck.
"De sea is a'ways peaceful chil'," came Salthair's voice over the stone.
"Melessendra," Kerrig's voice cut in, "why did you leave without saying goodbye?"
"I - the tavern was stuffy," she said, not wanting to worry him. He made a thoughtful noise, but said nothing more.
She smiled wryly. "Father, do you remember what I said - about the drowning?"
"I do," he answered. "Why?"
She let her gaze roam over the waves, their rhythmic movements soothing, almost hypnotizing. "I am no longer afraid," she said.
"Den we be talkin' latah," he said, but his tone was oddly neutral, not approving as she had thought it would be. Not that it mattered anymore.
"I think I will sleep on the beach," she said. "Goodnight,"
Sollae said goodnight, and Nahgemmii said something about crocolisks, but she was no longer listening. She pulled the medallion from around her neck, dropped it into her pack, and lay down on a patch of cool grass scant yards from the sea. Lulled by its gentle melody, and its promise of peace, she fell asleep.