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duraxxor · 2 years

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A Father’s Reality

Not much had changed in Silvermoon as a shrouded figure came through making his rounds. Tall and imposing yet elven in the majority of his shape. Occasionally done the sun-kissed cobblestone he would gain the attention of patrons of the city. While most were Sin'dorei, few were Nightborne and other variety. This further confirmed Duraxxor's suspicion that the ties shared between the violet elves had strengthened in his absence. His plans were to visit from a short distance to the Tea Shoppe that once harbored a great many of friends and family alike. What would he think? What would he say? Could he even hope to face them after the time that had passed? Days? Months? Years? An all-too familiar feeling from once before that had often ended with relief and grief. Beneath the archway to the market, he passed through, anticipating the sight of a Shoppe not long after

A faint grunt escaped his nostrils as he came to a pause just by the auctioneers. The Tea Shoppe was gone and something was being rebuilt over it. A construction crew toiling away with lumber and stone while a few were hammering and directing their crewmates upon how they wanted to put in each piece. It was in this moment that something cold froze in Dura's blood before he felt his reflexes tighten and made haste towards the scene. He stared from beneath the hood and was simple lost with word.

" Hey there, fella? You lost? Can we help you with something? " An fiery-haired elven woman approached him carrying a clipboard and wearing a pair of glasses, oblivious to the suspiciousness of a shrouded figure as it would do nothing but hold progress. A woman clearly of progression and getting her job done.

Dura turned his shrouded head towards her and at first, his words couldn't quite come out but he would finally managed to ask in a calm demeanor. " What happened to the Tea Shoppe that was once located here? " He pointed towards the construction with a gloved hand.

She seemed rather surprised by this notion until she realized many people had been gone from the events of the Shadowlands, having only caught shards of the jewel that was that everyone was beginning to return home from it. " Ah... I guess you were a soldier sent in to the realm of death, sir? Well... I hate to be the bearer of bad news but that Shoppe was closed due to a fire accident that engulfed it in flames. "

A neutral expression took over the lips of the man beneath as he bowed his head in some form of grief. " How unfortunate. What of the owners and workers that were in it? " His voice had dropped more so in hopes that such news would prepare him for whatever was to come next out of her mouth. The woman frowned, crimson lips forming into an upside-down, crescent blood-moon. She clutched the clipboards against her waist as grief settled into her face. " The owners haven't been heard from since the incident as they vanished without a trace. Some wanted to say it was foul play but it matters not considering there was no evidence to support it. However, there was one casualty. "

These details had Duraxxor calculating much in his mind. Why would his old friends do such a thing unless they were in some form of trouble. It was bizarre at the least considering that the citizens of Silvermoon themselves didn't seem to be at edge towards the owners in any way. It was when that final detail that instinctively caught the San'layn's attention. " Who? " The voice cracked with predatory growl deep within it's ambience, as if threatening any moment to manifest.

The woman straightened her glasses and sighed, it seems whoever this was had some sort of ties to the family involved or was at least a friend judging from the change in demeanor. She paid attention to details. " Raven-Lynn Daevara, sister to Aiden Daevara. " There was a menacing silence between them after she finished that sentence. Nearly one minute passed before she finally interrupted such silence. " May I ask you... how are you related to them since you seem so... keen on-. "

She gasped as a soft aura of shadows manifested from the cloak and the gloved fingers of his right hand reached to pull the hood from his skull, allowing his white mane to flood his shoulders and spine. Crimson eyes bore into her the moment sunlight caressed his form. Such a bittersweet feeling of the warmth the day star possessed. The woman began to put two and two together as she remembered the photography that Aiden and Raven both possessed on them of a man that possessed a scar across his nose being their father. And right now, she was trembling in his presence. Dangerous. Predatory. It was as if the man could very well take the life from her in any moment. Even a few of the workers couldn't help but stare as they watched their manager shake in fear. She didn't sign up to deal with legendary monsters, after all.

" Where is she buried and where is my son? " The tone he possessed was razor sharp, almost like a blade being held at her throat that didn't physically exist. Every single story she had ever been told by his son was true. And those eyes flared to life with hatred and boldness alike. He wasn't playing around and he had already learned that darkfallen and rangers alike were no longer hiding what they were from the Horde specifically. However, not a single guard would go without noticing if any true hostility was underway.

The woman waved her hand to dismiss the workers that were staring. " Get back to work, all of you. It's nothing... " Her tone was flat and demanding, but she would not forget that creature that was directly addressing her. No, never. She took a deep breath and sighed before explaining. " Her body was placed just outside the gates along with the many that pass within the city walls. As for Aiden, Mr. Daevara, you will not find him anywhere close. He has since departed to find his own path. I haven't heard from him for several years. He's been gone since a month of the incident. "

The tension began to slow die down with her at least providing him with detailed answers. Much like her, the late Daevara enjoyed details over all else. However, what she wouldn't expect was this six foot and eight inch tall creature to place his hand upon her shoulder, instantly changing his expression to that of a smile. Duraxxor could see something within her despite her fears. " Thank you, madam, for being honest with me and from the sounds of it, you did everything you could for them. I will be on my way and if there's anything I can ever do for you, you just send word to the shadows. " He would retract his hand from her, enjoying the fact that she didn't not tremble or even retract from his touch before he quickly turned on his heel to head back whence he came. And all she was given was a glance behind his white head before he vanished into the shadows of the city itself. Even she was gasping for air as she had taken off.

" Goodness... they don't pay me enough to deal with shit like this... "

The night to follow would be moonlit but cloudy. A breeze caressed the curling trees of autumn into a whimper and a whine. Even the sound of beast was overtaken by the conditions that favored that something was brewing in the atmosphere. Something far more than just a storm The winds died down and the sound of shovel work would resound in the distance, directly from that cemetery that lied in the hills outside the gates. It was away from the Deadscar so the tainted soil would not awake the restless dead that were put to sleep. However, it would seem something of undeath would not give in so easily.

Here lies, Raven-Lynn Daevara. Daughter. Sister. Free-spirited. Kind-hearted. The tombstone read words that delicately described the late child of the former Lord Daevara. Dirt flung from behind the stone just beside a Eversong oak, piling up. Hidden behind such veils lied a nearly six foot hole, being dug up by yours truly wielding a rune carved shovel. One that was often more than naught wielded by the Gravekeeper. But not tonight, no. Tonight it would serve as an instrument to dig up the deceased of the Daevara household. The cloak worn by Duraxxor now tattered and dirtied from the labor he put into this desecration. It wasn't until the impact of the shovel struck something solid that he ceased in surprise.

" There you are... " The words fell casually despite the wrongness of the situation. Never before had Duraxxor thought to dug up the dead. To raise, yes. But never disturb their peace. It was unlike him in many ways. However, one may not understand that even an undead such as himself still had sharp emotions that threatened to tear a parent apart. Claws continued to dig around the casket until finally, the lid was exposed and he sought to tear such a thing apart with ever bit of strength. Even the hinges broke from the stress of it all until finally it was tossed aside.

There was a moment of relief that swept through Duraxxor's eyes for if for a blink of an eye he could see the perfectly preserved visage of his daughter sleeping like a babe of old memories. But that visage was but a memory in the wake as the scent of death overtook his senses. The corpse of his daughter had already lost the majority of the cottons in her clothing, now tattered with only worn down materials. Skin had already patched into black scars while the unburnt places were dusted with a grin in pigmentation. The foul scent of bodily fluids that had long expired in the decay of her form, leaving nothing more than a near mummified husk that barely had any hair to recognize.

" No... Nonono...NOO! " Word and tombstone wasn't enough for a man of death. Imagery and aromas weren't one to bother him considering what he was but an abomination in the natural cycle. But to see his daughter in such a state was the reality that settled in. Sharp talons took the corpse into his arms as he delicately tried to bring her to him, clutching her like the child that she was to him. His form shivering now with sorrow and rage that even he didn't quite fully understand. Tears of black ichor streamed down his cheeks and onto the body of his daughter as he continued to utter the disbelief he wanted to continue to have. He suddenly released his hold onto her and placed her back into the coffin with haste. An immediately grasp of the shovel transcended into him pointing towards her with it as if to use to the shovel as some form of instrument. However, Anna's words rang true in his ears.

" For me, it is an instrument, but for one that does not possess the knowledge, it is but a simple shovel, my dear friend... "

Another reality afflicted him as he continued to clutch the shovel, quaking as the shadows spewed from his form. Soon after, it would cease though as he dropped the shovel with defeat, continued to drip with black tears as he found himself falling to his knees and apologizing. He remembered that even if he had the power to bring back the dead, it wouldn't be what his child would have wanted. "... I'm... I'm sorry... for all the times you believed in me... and I forsaken you... I know it's hard to imagine but... you made me proud even at this point... you were more than just my child. You were your own person... And I... " He began to slump into a laughter, it was hard to tell if Duraxxor was remembering something fondly or if he was simply going mad from it all. "... I never deserved you. "

He continued to laugh at the situation as he stood over her gravesite, he clutched the shovel into his right talons and placed it over his shoulder. It was at this point that he would place the lid back upon her coffin, hiding the corpse from view now. " I won't even try it now... we both know how that would end and besides... " He covered his face with his dirt-covered hands, still laughing and crying his tears all at the same time. "... The Maw already claimed your soul. Shadowlands be damned... " A bitterness spewed from his lips like venom before he hopped out of the hole and began going back to work on burying the mistake he made.

Each shovel of dirt represented a memory he possessed to this day. From the birth of the white haired babe, to the many times that her father would come home and play games with her. Later memories of her reaching adulthood and learning under him on how to wield a blade and fist fight until she finally landed a blow upon his flesh. How many times did she hit him or cut him? Quite a many. She truly was one of his pride and joy back then and even on him returning from the grave. Despite his grotesque appearance, both daughter and son welcomed him with open arms, clutching the vampiric beast without prejudice despite the many times he nearly bit their head off out of hunger. He didn't understand what being a father meant back then but now... he did. The hardest thing any real parent can do, living or undead, male or female, and even of any social status, was to say goodbye to them.

Moments later, the dirt had been refilled without so much as a notice from any sort of guard or patrol. And in it's wake, the tombstone was left with a present. A metal frame wrapping a that photograph of Duraxxor with his Raven on his right and his Aiden on his left. A red rose nestled just below it as decoration and before long, the atmospheric breeze released a single droplet of water onto the photo, streaming down the cheek of the Dark Father.

" Until we meet again in oblivion, my child. "