inathia

[inathia]

'leave me still, beneath the earth'

a gold foiled piece i drew for around gallery's show 'laws of nature' ◡̈

if u're in singapore, u can check out the amazing artwork in the show and maybe even pick up a copy of the works on display or other goods while u're at it!

thank u so much to around gallery for inviting me and for printing my piece!

[inathia]

Welcome Home, Knight-Lord

The summons to Dr. Starfrost were hand delivered by a Blood Knight Master and their Adept in an envelope that not only bore the insignia of the Blood Knight order, but markings of classification of utmost importance. 

Dr. Starfrost - For your eyes only - Immediate attention required Your presence is required at the Hall of Blood tomorrow morning, one hour after dawn. You are to perform a physical fitness examination on a knight, as part of their reinstatement process. We trust that you will perform this duty to the utmost ethical standards as a former member of our order, and esteemed physician serving Quel’Thalas. Signed,  Knight-Lord Bloodvalor

Once the message was securely in Gattius’ hands, the two knights offered him crisp salutes and were immediately on their way.

The following morning, the streets of Silvermoon City were just barely starting to come to life. A gentle golden glow shone between the towering spires of the city. Knights and Farstriders had begun their morning training, merchants made their way to their stores and stalls, and those who had seen the sun rise were wandering home to retire for sleep. 

Dr. Gattius Starfrost was received by the two Blood Knights from the night prior, who led them to a small office room in the back of the Hall of Blood. It was an unusual request to summon a physician to the Hall, rather than send a Knight needing examination or treatment to a clinic. Whatever was happening was clearly of utmost importance to them.

“Right here, Doctor. We’ll be waiting outside.” 

Once inside the small office, a singular knight sat on a chair in the corner. Bereft of her armor and makeup, Ina’thia Dawnblade didn’t look particularly intimidating at first glance. With her arms crossed and legs stretched out in front of her, the black tank top and leggings she always wore underneath it revealed skin weathered by time and even more battles. Her hair had fallen flat and dry over the years, and she’d long foregone her usual dark kohl liner and red lips.

Upon realizing the door had been opened, she immediately stood up and leveled her gaze on Gattius. Ina’thia all but hissed, and the turbulent holy energies of her aura as a Blood Knight seemed to crackle in the air.

“I want a new doctor.”

“Oh, shut up.” Gattius groaned in response, as if already exhausted with her. “You know I'm the best there is.”

Gattius knew it could only be Ina'thia, even though the letter didn't say outright. He had heard the rumor the other night from Syrielle. Then, all the pomp and circumstance surrounding the missive's delivery. Knight-Lord Bloodvalor wouldn't put his name on an order to reinstate just anyone. And being summoned to the Hall, rather than the reinstatement case just be sent to his clinic? High profile and secretive. He hoped he was wrong. Maybe it was someone else. Anyone else. 

Nope.

Still, he stepped through the door and closed it behind him, resigning to his fate. He knew. Part of him resigned to it as soon as he got the letter. The rest of him was just catching up, now. He set his bag down on the small corner table, and opened the folder he'd been handed on his way in. It all could've been hallucination up to that point, but for some reason, seeing her name inscribed across the top of the examination form solidified everything else. 

Ina’thia Dawnblade was back. 

He stared at the form a moment. Just at her name, reading it over and over again– hoping maybe it looked like he was just reviewing her chart intently. His body moved ahead of him, hands digging his cigarette case out of his pocket to pluck one put and light it up. The familiar taste, the warmth hitting his lungs, all seemed to reel him back. His golden gaze lifted from the folder to look at her, now. Slowly, he exhaled a plume of smoke.

“Please state your name and date of birth for the record.” he instructed, all-business.

Ina’thia bristled at Gattius’s groaned response at her, quickly sitting down. She crossed her arms and slouched in the chair, pouting that this was the doctor that had been assigned to perform her physical. Gattius Starfrost, of all people. It couldn’t be some other rank and file Master, a spiritual knight who she pissed off years ago, or hell, even an Argent Crusader. 

No, it had to be Gattius. Former knight, former Captain, former lover.

She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, trying her best to push those thoughts from her mind. He could very well be the one obstacle that stood in the way of her reinstatement if he wanted to be vindictive, and she knew it. 

“Gods damn you, Bloodvalor,” she grumbled under her breath, then sat up straight. Just answer the questions.

“Ina’thia Dawnblade, July twenty-first.” 

Scribble scribble. Gattius jotted down notes on the parchment. The form wasn't anything he hadn't filled out a million times before. He checked a few boxes, and filled in some of the basic information he knew about her already, like blood type and the like. 

“Your last physical exam was over five years ago. Have you sustained any notable injuries since your last exam?” He asked, ashing his cigarette carelessly onto the floor beside him. “And were you seen or treated in the field or by any other physician in that time?”

His eyes remained fixed to the form. Voice monotone and interrogative, like he either didn't care… or cared intensely. 

Ina’thia shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Her fingertips dug into her bare arms, pressing into the muscles and skin marred by scars both old and new. Her ears twitched and she took a moment to breathe in the sweet smelling smoke of his cigarette. Light, she’d kill for one of those right now. But then she wouldn’t get promoted. So she remained sitting… begrudgingly so. 

“I was treated the monks and residents of Temple of the White Tiger at the Kun-Lai summit some six or seven years ago. Frostbite and exposure. Climbing that mountain is still an absolute bitch, by the way.” The knight exhaled sharply, catching a fleeting glance at Gattius before pointedly averting her gaze to the small pile of ash on the ground. 

“I was treated in the field with my own first aid and other menders I crossed paths with. Too many to count.” 

Scribble scribble. He took down more notes as Ina'thia shared the information. 

“Simple or routine mending, aye?” He asked, seeking clarification. “Nothing major, like broken bones or internal organs rupturing? Nothing requiring surgery?”

His tone leveled as he settled into the chair. Maybe the cigarette was doing its thing. Or maybe the routine of it all was helping him manage. It helped to have a focus of questions to ask, keeping him from asking his own. Like “what the fuck?”, or “how dare you show your face here again?” 

“Just papercuts from too much paperwork and bruises from stubbing my toe on desks,” Ina’thia retorted in the most sarcastic voice she could muster, and even threw in a very annoyed eyeroll at him for good measure. The end of her eyeroll met Gattius’s gaze and she quickly found a spot on the wall to look at. 

“My broken bones were set, the lacerations sutured and the burns treated with remedies both magical and herbal. You know that treating these things in the field can be unorthodox. No surgeries.” 

With another heavy sigh, she shifted her posture in the chair and slouched in it somehow even more. The enchanted lantern light in the room cast a deep shadow over her features, which were set into a deep frown with the whole experience at hand.

“Do you really have to ask all of this?”

“‘Patient declined examination, physician advises against reinstatement.’” Gattius retorted, equally sarcastic– quill moving, but the distinct sound of it scribbling on the parchment was notably, obviously absent. “Or maybe you'd like a different recommendation today, aye? I don't wanna ask them any more than you wanna be asked. But if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right.”

He gave a warning side eye; one well practiced over a couple years of fatherhood. Then, back to scribbling down– for real– a few notes from Ina’thia's responses. 

“Gonna need specifics on the breaks. Otherwise, I'll have to find them all manually.” he commented. “I think this is plenty awkward as it is, don't you?”

Something about Gattius’ response earned a concession from Ina’thia with regard to her sarcasm. Perhaps it was his own sarcastic remark in turn about not recommending her for reinstatement. Or maybe it was the stern side eye that he had given her. Either way, she sat up a little bit straighter and became slightly more cooperative.

“Dislocated my left shoulder. Broke several fingers in my right hand. Cracked several of my ribs on the left side…” To demonstrate, she held her left hand up into the enchanted light. Her ring finger had healed out of position, and leaned slightly to one side. “More bruises than I can count, but those have all since healed. Just like the other injuries. What else does that blasted form have on it?” 

“The usual.” Gattius replied shortly, whilst filling out more of the form. “Do you smoke? Yes… Do you drink? Yes… Is there any chance you may be pre–”

He let that question fall off, instead answering it for her without finishing. Most of these he knew the answers to already, unless something had DRASTICALLY changed. Then, he turned the page– rarely a good sign, and a guarantee that this was far from over. He scribbled a few more things down without asking for her input. Either not needing it, or knowing well enough already. 

Then… he sighed. He finally looked at her for more than a glance or narrow-eyed glare. Quiet. He ashed his cigarette, then leaned back.

“Where’ve you been?”

Ina’thia opened her mouth to answer his questions, but closed it immediately when he began answering the questions for her. At this point, she couldn’t help but wonder what the purpose of the questionnaire even was.

She leaned back as Gattius leaned back, and resumed her closed posture. Crossed arms over her chest, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. Her gaze once again was going to burn a hole in the wall between Gattius and herself.

“Is that like, an official question? Or are you asking off the record?” 

“Official. Gotta know for localized diseases, parasites, all that.” he replied, calmly. “Sounds like Pandaria, at least. Anywhere else outside Quel’Thalas?”

Ina’thia couldn’t help yet another eyeroll at the continued line of questioning. If hell was real, this was certainly it. “Pandaria, yes. I stayed in Kun-Lai, specifically at the summit and temples, for about a year. Maybe longer. After it was attacked, I joined up with other visitors of the temple to take the fight back to the Black Empire. Tanaris, Silithus, Uldum… most of Kalimdor, now that I think of it.” 

“Mhm.” Gattius nodded along… though didn’t look like he was writing any of that down. “And in the past year, were you sexually active?”

Another drag off his cigarette.

The hopefully soon-to-be-reinstated Knight-Lord nearly choked on her own spit at that last question. It finally caused her to sit upright, and she gripped her knees with her hands. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her leggings like claws. “What the fuck kind of question is that, Gattius?” 

He shrugged, and tapped the parchment wordlessly.

“You’re not writing anything down, though. Are you being an asshole just because?” Ina’thia threw her hands up in the air in frustration, then quickly crossed her arms again. As far as she could recall, this is about how their last interaction went. A fight. Both of them storming off. This time, there was no room to storm away. “Yeah, I was. Have been. There, are you happy now?” 

“I remember what you said. I’ll write it down, relax.” he scoffed, shaking his head.

Slowly, he began to inscribe… something on the parchment. Occasionally glancing to Ina’thia, then back to the page.

“... Kun-Lai…” he mumbled. “And… hm…”

He tapped his chin, before ashing his cigarette again.

“Is there an apostrophe in ‘Bey’ron’? I can never remember.”

“Look, Gatto –” the nickname rolled so effortlessly off of her tongue, it caught her by surprise. Nevertheless, she continued. “-- If you’re not going to be serious about this, then I’m going to ask for another doctor to do this examination. You know how to goddamn spell.” 

Ina’thia almost hissed, she exhaled her frustration so sharply. Her gaze leveled on Gattius, fueled by the anger she’d held onto in her years away.

“If you want to ask me questions, then fucking ask them. Don’t pretend to be filling out that stupid form.”

Gattius was expecting a reaction, sure– but still, he jumped as Ina’thia raised her voice. Startled enough that he dropped his cigarette. Just as well; it had burned pretty low. Straightening, he pulled out another, and lit up in a fluid, practiced motion.

“These are on the form, first of all.” he tapped the parchment again. “But fine– you’re right. Let’s set these aside for a moment, aye? Here’s one that’s not on the form; what the fuck, huh? Why’d you run off to that asshole Magister, then run off the face of Azeroth?”

He frowned. Deeply. Lips curled almost to a snarl. Casting aside all attempts to mask it, he just stared at Ina’thia with anger and pain in his eyes. He’d kept himself together as long as he could, to this point. Now, he wanted real answers.

It took all Ina’thia’s willpower to not march across the room and fling the parchment and clipboard out Gattius’s hands, and then punch him in the face. Doing so would all but destroy her chances at reinstatement, and so she kept her lips tugged into a deep frown as she rolled her head a bit to try and dispel some of the growing tension from her neck and shoulder. 

Her gaze remained leveled on his, matching his anger with absolute contempt of her own.

“Because you do this,” she gestured vaguely around her. To him, to the form, to all of this, “You get angry and jealous, and you let it fester by being an absolute passive-aggressive jackass before you finally explode.” 

Ina’thia exhaled sharply, finally breaking eye contact. She resumed staring not just at that one spot on the wall, but through it. 

“There was room in that relationship for three, Gattius. The kid showed up and it was time for me to leave. I’m not good with them, anyway.” It was a half-truth, but at least it wasn’t an outright lie.

It was uncomfortably quiet after Ina'thia finished speaking. The silence hung heavy and tense in the air. Gattius’ eyes never peeled from her, cigarette burning down between his lips. Less anger in his expression, replaced more with pain. Frustration, if anything else. 

With a sharp exhale, he turned toward the small desk and set the parchments flat on it. Ached his cigarette, scribbled down more notes. But otherwise, the silence sat a moment longer.

“Medically, no glaring issues.” He said calmly. “If the fingers bother you, I can get you the name of a good orthopedic surgeon out by Fairbreeze.”

He stood with that, and began to dig around in his medical bag. 

Ina’thia froze in the lingering, uncomfortable silence. One sidelong look revealed the pain and frustration in Gattius’s eyes and entire countenance, but looking back at the wall and ignoring it was far easier for her than continuing to confront it. She shifted in the chair, finally replying.

“Am I cleared for reinstatement, then?” 

“Yep.”

His response was exceptionally short, tone both defeated and uncaring. He pulled a stamp and small portion of sealing wax from his bag, and pressed it with an overly firm hand to make it all so. Then, carelessly, he tossed the stamp back into his bag and closed it up. The papers left laying open on the desk beside him as he turned to face Ina'thia.

“It was gonna be worse. I was daydreaming the whole walk out here about subjecting you to all kinds of needless and unflattering tests, today. Numerous blood draws just so I could stab your arm a few times. Planned to miss the vein a few times until your arm was black and blue. Undignified shit like making you strip down and put your hands up over your head, or touch your toes to inspect joint range of motion. Or a fucking colonoscopy. I came in here wanting to hurt you, Ina. Something close to how you hurt me.” he admitted, laying it all out. “But, just now, I realized I don't care. I used to care. I cared A LOT over the past seven years even through being mad at you. I worried the Magister had done some bullshit love spell to pull you away from me. I worried when I didn't hear from you for months and months that you got yourself killed somehow. I worried because I cared. And I cared because I loved you. But now, I realized you don't. You don't love, you don't care. Not nearly the same way. This was never gonna work, and it's not because of Tannis. It's because it was so easy for you to leave me, when I would've rather died than do anything but stay.”

Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes but by sheer willpower he wouldn't bid them to fall any further. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth and smothered it into the parchment beside him, before tossing the butt away.

“Welcome home, Knight-Lord.”

With that, he moved for the door.

Ina’thia threw her hands up in frustration yet again, this time standing as Gattius started for the door. Although she stood, she didn’t pursue. She stayed put, almost as if her feet were glued to the floor.

“Sure would have been fucking easier for us all if I would have died, wouldn’t it have been? I wouldn’t have to be doing this formality for reinstatement with you of all people, and I wouldn’t have to be doing this tour of trying to make amends with people,” she snarled and continued, raising an accusatory finger at Gattius.

“I was going to try with you. I was going to give you a full explanation, but I don’t think you could even see through your anger to believe any of it. Guess it’ll just be a mystery for the ages.” 

She rested her hands on her hips, then tilted her chin up to the door as a signal to leave.

“Good day, Doctor Starfrost.” 

Gattius stuck around for Ina’thia’s last word, but didn’t respond to it. Not directly, anyway. After he was “dismissed”, he simply rolled her eyes at her, and departed.

“‘Oh no, the consequences of my shitty behavior!’” he grumbled in a falsetto voice clearly meant to mock the Knight-Lord. “‘Sure would’ve been easier to die than to take responsibility for any of it!’ Boo-fucking-hoo… won’t argue with that, you miserable… …”

His mutterings grew inaudible the further down the hall he went, stomping and huffing like a tantruming child. But, to their credit, the Knight Masters guarding the door kept their bearing through it all.

[RP scene with @thefugitivemango] 💔💔💔

#ina'thia dawnblade #gattius starfrost #wyrmrest accord #in which gattius speaks the truth and ina'thia is a bitch about it as usual #i do be a sucker for the angst and conflict tho

[inathia]

A Letter to Magister Everblaze

A small envelope is left at the front gate of the Everblaze Estate. It is left by a woman wearing plain clothes and a hood, who quickly departs by Thalassian charger after ensuring the letter's delivery. The envelope itself is barely larger than a note card, and sealed with red wax.

Bey'ron,

I have much to explain, and hope that you will hear me out over a glass of Eversong red. If not, I understand.

-Ina'thia

@thefugitivemango

#ic letter #world of warcraft #bey'ron everblaze #ina'thia dawnblade

[inathia]

A Reunion Long In The Making [Part II]

[ Part I ]

Ina'thia makes the long walk up the spire to the Phoenix Guard's former headquarters, motivated by the promise of wine and memories. She hopes for good memories, but if not, there's wine for that. The former Commander marches to the door, and lets out a frustrated hiss when it is, in fact, locked! She jiggles the handle, then begins pulling on it.

Ruthar makes his way up, a pair of dusty wine bottles and a pair of crystal glasses in his hand. He hears the jiggling of the locked knob. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised by that," he says with a chuckle. "It has been quite some time."

Ina'thia seems to be taking her anger, which had been buried deep for years, out on the door. She becomes more forceful with it. "Of course it's locked. Why wouldn't it be? Did they give me a key? Fuck if I know. I've been gone for seven - " she kicks the door once then twice. " "- YEARS." With a final kick, the door swings open in a whirl of dust and paperwork! It was exactly as it had been left, save for the layer of dust.

Ruthar opens his mouth to suggest something, but shuts it promptly as the door smashes inward. "That's one way to the put the shattered in Shattered Sun."

Ina'thia rakes a hand through her hair to toss it back over her shoulders, then steps into the office. It was small and cramped, but offered a beautiful view of the harbor. She'd lost count of how many nights she'd stayed up until the dawn here.

“I may have been a bit overealous.”

Ruthar makes his way into the office, the memories flooding back as he moves from the main meeting room into her office. "Perhaps a touch," he offers. He places the bottles and the glasses down on the desk, pushing a document out of the way. He lifts it up in his fingers, eyeing the red ink at the top. -Classified: Decommissioning Notice-

Ina'thia turns the decommissioning notice upside down, lest it sour her mood and make her become completely overzealous. "We spent a lot of time up here, didn't we? I remember planning our mission to Draenor and telling the others to get their affairs in order and make peace with the Light, or whatever they prayed to." 

Ruthar nods, allowing a pause to settle as he moves to uncork one of the bottles. "I remember it very clearly. When I was captured in Tanaan, it was one of the things that truly kept me alive. Remembering the faces of all of you who accepted the suicidal portal mission." He pours the liquid into the glasses.

"Feels simultaenously like a lifetime ago and only yesterday."

Ina'thia pulls her gaze away from the harbor to Ruthar as he pours the wine. The pop of a cork seems to calm her heightened frustrations. "I really did think we were all going to die. Part of me thought you were dead already, and we were only going to recover your body. Gruesome times. I'm glad none of it came to pass." 

Ruthar hoists the now-filled glasses and offers one to Ina'thia. He leans upon the edge of the desk, raising his up for a small toast. "Here's to being not as dead as we should be."

Ina'thia leans on the other edge of the desk and accepts the glass, eagerly toasting. "Here's to being too stubborn to die, no matter what is thrown in our paths." 

Ruthar clinks the glass and takes a long sip, the bite of the old wine both a comfort and a memory. He looks out to the sea, holding his glass. "There is so much to discuss, even some recent things that are worth mentioning. I don't quite know where to begin - so many questions spring to mind."

Ina'thia takes a long sip of the wine as well. It's everything in her power not to drink it all in one go, but instead, savor the flavor. Just as she intended to savor the company and the locale.  - 

Ina'thia turns to face Ruthar. "You know you can ask me anything, Ruthar. You're my best friend, and always have been. A brother, even. No secrets." 

Ruthar smiles against his glass as he takes another sip. "I know," he says softly, looking down into the wine itself. "And you have no idea how good that feels to hear," he offers, thinking of recent events. "I don't think I saw you at all since the decommissioning, then the next moment I hear you've departed entirely. So what's your story? You absolutely must have had a reason."

Ina'thia can't help herself; she takes that next long drink, and soon enough, the glass is empty. She holds it out for Ruthar to refill, because this story requires alcohol. And lots of it. "Well, it's a long one... I went directly back to Kul Tiras under the Horde's banner, in and around Stormsong Valley. Bloody battles. I retired from active duty not long after, and fooled myself into thinking I could do diplomacy and politics on a Magister's arm. Or was he on my arm? Hard to tell, really." 

Ruthar gingerly takes the empty glass from her digits and just passes her the bottle. He doesn't interrupt the tale.

Ina'thia takes the glass back, but doesn't drink just yet. "I lived in Magister Everblaze's manor for some time... and I thought the monotony was getting to me. I started hearing things, at first. Then I began seeing them. Just little shadows from the corner of my eye. Then I couldn't see or hear or dream of anything but -him- and -his- Empire. I was losing it, Ruthar. Fuck. I had to leave. What if I attacked him? Retired Knight-Lord murders esteemed Magister! Or worse, Syrie and Gatto or their kid?" 

 “I -had- to leave.”

Ruthar considers that for a moment. "Did you find the source of such thoughts and whispers?"

Ina'thia gives Ruthar an odd look over her wine glass, "...It was the old god N'zoth. Shortly after I left, spires and faceless ones started appearing everywhere." 

Ruthar blinks at that. "You...you're serious? I expected some sort of trick of the Magister, not the efforts of an Old God."

Ina'thia nods once, "Bey'ron is an absolutely insufferable asshole, but I know he would never do that to me. He was actually very kind to me while we were together. No... I was vulnerable, emotionally, after the Guard was decommissioned. Easy prey for an old god."

Ruthar looks at her with a truly concerned expression. "I'm sorry to hear that. I can only imagine how difficult those whispers were to silence. I heard so many stories from Kul Tiras, but I think you are the first I've spoken to with direct experience."

Ina'thia takes another long drink of wine, "It was a bloodbath, Ruthar. We've seen our share of combat with the Guard, but it was always for the good of Quel'Thalas or the world. We killed everyone. Farmers in their fields, their wives, their children. Even the cattle. No survivors. No resources. Burnt it all to the ground on the Warchief's order.”

Ruthar sighs, looking down into his wine. "I would have done anything for her," he admits. "She was my Ranger-General. I swore an oath that I held so firmly." He looks to her, his gaze supportive. "I would have done the very same."

Ina'thia watches Ruthar closely, "...She was -our- Ranger-General. Farstrider or not, we all loved and admired her. Either way... I left, and I went to Kun-Lai. It's a place that has brought me peace in tumultuous times past." 

Ruthar nods. "Of course. Our. Hard to tell who still sees it that way after everything." He finishes his glass and slowly pours another. "And how was the Summit? I haven't been to Pandaria since I had a nasty incident with the mantid so many years back."

Ina'thia looks out over the harbor. "Still steep and cold as fuck. I climbed on foot, fell face-down in the snow and was dragged the rest of the way on a sled pulled by grummles." 

Ruthar raises an eybrow at that. "And yet here you stand. I assume the mission was a success?"

Ina'thia looks down at her fingertips, "Had to recover from the frostbite and exposure, first. Stayed at the temple for a few months. I was in a bad way, Ruthar. Bad. I snapped out of it when the temple was attacked and I got punched in the face by another sin'dorei who was there. We fought back the faceless ones, and I chose to continue the fight. I've been everywhere hunting them. Tanaris. Silithus. Uldum. Un'goro. All of Kalimdor, and then some." 

Ruthar nods slowly, his eyebrows still raised. "I will fully admit that this was not the story I was expecting in the least. Amazing that you could face N'Zoth's agents directly and live to tell the tale. For how long did you fight the n'raqi?"

Ina'thia purses her lips thoughtfully, then takes another sip of wine. "...Years, I think. I lost time for parts of it. Don't you fucking repeat that, either, or I'll never get reinstated." 

Ruthar nods. "Duly noted," he says quickly. "So when did you return from it, then?"

Ina'thia rolls one shoulder, "...When I set foot back in Quel'Thalas. I took the longest route possible. Boats and zeppelins and mountain and forest trails. Gave myself every opportunity to turn around, and I kept walking. Figured I'd made it this far... it was really time to come home. Last week.”

Ruthar blinks, lowering his wineglass. "That is the kind of tale I would tell younglings at the Retreat. But here you are," he gestures to her form with his wineglass. "Alive to tell it yourself. I...don't know what to say." He lowers his glass, looking her

Ruthar over for signs of the experience. "Your return is that much more pleasing after hearing what you were up against."

Ina'thia seems to be in remarkably good health at a glance, all things considered. "Mm. And here I am, after I survived all of that, too afraid to talk to my exes. I'd rather take the years of solitude and fighting literal monsters." 

Ruthar manages a smirk at that. "You can go to the very end of the world and fight monsters of untold power, and yet you are still you." He takes a sip of wine. "Speaking of, I've had interactions with said exes it seems."

Ina'thia 's ears droop a little bit in absolute embarrassment. "For fuck's sake. I need more wine." With that, she knocked back the rest of her second glass.

Ruthar laughs at that fully, knocking back his own and taking the empty glasses. He begins to uncork the second bottle. "But, before -that-," he begins, pausing his uncorking of the wine. "I'm...sorry for all of that. Truly." He sighs. "But what I am sorry about most is not being there to help. I'm not sure what I would have done if I had heard you were truly lost, but I know that I did not do anything to mitigate any of that. You deserve better from your friends." He finishes uncorking the wine and pours a fresh pair of very full glasses.

Ina'thia finally looks at Ruthar directly, with the unmistakable intensity of the Blood Knight he's known for years and years. Emboldened by the wine, of course. "Stop it, Ruthar. Don't pity me and don't blame yourself. I didn't -want- to be found. Sometimes, we have to do things on our own. Get lost. Be shattered. Put back the pieces. When I was ready to be found, I came back. And you were the first to find me... and I'm forever grateful for that." 

Ruthar looks out across the sea once more. "It's not that I pity you, and I entirely agree - such a pilgrimage can be important for self-reflection and soul recrafting. It's more about what you said earlier, something that seems to be a common theme." He takes a quick sip as he conjures the direct quote. "Your vulnerability after the decommissioning. That's where I feel the most guilty. I should have been there in that aftermath - for you, for everyone." He shakes his head. "It may not have actually changed anything, but the guilt feels very real. I suppose I'm just trying to do my own soul-rebuilding.”

Ina'thia sips at her refilled glass of wine. She's quiet for a long while, listening to Ruthar as she thinks on his words. "...We all lost something precious that day. Some more than most. We both should have been there. For each other, for the others." 

“I ran away, thinking I wasn't wanted.”

Ruthar looks down into his glass and then far across the sea. "Wasn't wanted," he repeated quietly. "I suppose therein lies the issue then, hmm?" He sighs. "Nothing could be further from the truth, Ina'thia." He looks to her directly. "Nothing. I may not have been the best to show it, but you are wanted. You are cared about. You are loved." His eyes glisten slightly with the sun of Quel'Danas through the balcony. "And it really is so- damn- good to have you back."

Ina'thia watches Ruthar quietly. Her remaining eye seems to shimmer just a little bit, but the ever-stalwart Blood Knight is skilled at hiding all emotions other than her frustration, anger or exasperation. "The mind plays tricks on us, Ruthar, especially when under influence of something as terrible as an old god. I know in my heart of hearts that you're speaking the truth, and have only spoken truths. But the me of seven years ago still wouldn't have believed you. That's over, though... in the past." 

“I'm looking to the future.”

Ruthar nods, his fingers tapping against the wineglass. "And the only reason it is in the past is because you pushed onward. I truly hope you never forget that." He lifts his glass again with a gentle smile. "To the future, then."

Ina'thia reaches her glass over to touch it against Ruthar's, smirking a bit as they make a little 'clink!' noise. "What are -your- plans for the future?"

Ruthar chuckles. "I haven't given much thought to -my- future, to be perfectly honest. I can only assume that I will continue to serve the Kingdom in whatever capacity I am able." He takes a sip, seemingly more relaxed after releasing the weight from his chest. "I can, however, speak to the immediate future. There are some things in motion that are worth mentioning."

Ina'thia quirks a brow at Ruthar. "Things in motion? Go on..." 

Ruthar places his glass down, refilling it. He raises an inquisitive eyebrow to Ina'thia as he holds the bottle toward her glass.

Ina'thia finishes the rest of her wine, holding out her empty glass for another refill. A gentle dusting of red is starting to form over her cheeks. She would undoubtedly be sleeping in this office once again. "Seriously. What's going on?" 

Ruthar finishes filling the glasses and sets the wine bottle down. "Unexpectedly, quite a bit," he begins. "I had a meeting with Farstrider leadership in the Farstriders' Square not more than week ago at this point. As I began to depart to return to Valdrakken, I found myself face to face with Magister Everblaze. He had pressing information, it turns out."

Ina'thia does her best to not visibly flinch at the mention of Bey'ron. Now that she's three glasses of wine deep, it's harder to temper and hide her emotions. "Bey'ron -always- has pressing information, and it usually involves him climbing over someone else for-

Ina'thia - power." She rolls her eye, ever annoyed by the politics of Magisters.

Ruthar nods. "I would assume the same, naturally. But this was different." Ruthar sighs, looking down into the wine as his expression turns downward. "It seems that Li-Mei is a deserter in a very real sense."

Ina'thia 's other brow raises to match her inquisitive look, shifting it to genuine surprise. "...Truly? I never would have expected... she was always so loyal. Like a weird little hatchling, at times, but still loyal." 

Ruthar nods. "Truly. Admitted by her own mouth, as it turns out." He shakes his head. "Her tale is not dissimilar to your own, to be quite honest. After the decommissioning, it appears that she was a bit lost and became disenfranchised with leadership. She departed without a trace after the Fourth War. We thought her dead and updated her record accordingly, but that seems to have been in error. She reached out to Bey'ron for help returning to Quel'Thalas. He obliged, for a price."

Ina'thia furrows her brow, "Well... I had the sense to retire from active duty, at least. I was never marked AWOL." Still, she frowns. "What is Bey'ron having her do to earn her place back here?" 

Ruthar shrugs. "Something about 16 years of service or what have you. Honestly, I'm not even sure what entails." He takes another sip. "Regardless, Magistrix Starfrost is involved as well. It was really great to see her, despite the circumstances. She will be doing a magical investigation into Li-Mei's whereabouts. That particular data will help the Farstriders determine what her next moves are."

Ina'thia can't help but smile over her glass of wine, "Shit, Syrie's a full Magistrix now? I'm happy for her..." her thoughts then trail back to Li-Mei, and she sighs again. "Probably ironing his dresses and other mundane nonsense. Still, though... I hadn't thought of what would become of everyone else after the Guard was decommissioned. I'm saddened to hear that Li-Mei struggled so much."

Ruthar nods. "It weighs heavily," he admits, taking another sip. "I promoted her myself, even trained her a bit. She was...is quite talented. I don't know how this will shake out, but here we are."

Ina'thia sets her glass of wine down on the table, atop the turned over decommissioning notice. "Give her a proper hearing, let her serve consequences and earn her place back. Just as I have to earn mine. Part of picking up our shattered pieces is facing the consequences, isn't it?" 

Ruthar nods. "Indeed it is. Sadly, this one isn't up to me. Due to our professional history, I would need to recuse myself from any such proceedings. Nothing to do at this point but to wait, really."

“The silver lining here, however, is that I got the chance to reconnect with both Starfrosts.”

Ina'thia also can't help but cringe at the mention of the Starfrosts. "And both of those things are why we have wine, Ruthar. Lots and lots of wine." 

Ruthar smirks. "You know I have it in spades. But, do tell. From how he speaks of you, it seems like there is a story."

Ina'thia 's lip curls at the idea of telling that particular story. "It was stupid, embarrassing, and wildly inappropriate bullshit that happened after the Guard was decommissioned. Gattius was jealous and I was angry. I don't know if we'll ever be able to speak to each other civilly ever again." 

“It seems that you both harbor a similar sentiment, then,” Ruthar offers.

In’athia offers a sigh. “Yeah... I imagine we probably do. It's fucked up, Ruthar. -I- fucked up. And him being mad at me is a consequence. I've endured worse. I'll live.”

Ruthar looks at her for a moment, but doesn't press the subject. "Syrie, on the other hand, sends her best. I told them both that I was following a lead to find you, so she asked me to relay her regards should I be successful."

Ina'thia smiles warmly at that, but it's a small sort of smile. "Thanks for covering for me. I don't know if I could handle seeing her anytime soon, either. She's got a kid now, it's all weird. I'm bad at this, okay? Give me a sword and an entire legion of enemies to fight, and I'll be fine." 

Ruthar scoffs. "Perhaps you are bad at it, but at least you make an effort for better or worse, speaks to a strength I falter with." He takes a sip. "That said, one final piece of new information. After Syrie and Gattius departed last evening, I happened upon Raynell A'laria in the woods of all people."

“The cosmos work in mysterious ways, really.”

Ina'thia 's mouth actually hangs open at that, "A'laria? Truly? Holy shit... everyone's coming back. All at once. The cosmos is right. Next thing you know, we'll see Calthos and Hylaudius and the world will have truly ended." 

Ruthar laughs out loud at that. "Now that would be...something," he says tactfully. “I didn't get much time with A'laria, sadly, but yes - she is returned. I do look forward to speaking with her further. By the look of her, there is quite a story to be had.”

“If they were to truly appear,” Ina’thia replies, “I think I'd die on the spot. Die dead. Cease to exist. Now, A'laria... hers is a story I would like to hear.

Ruthar chuckles as he finishes another glass. "Indeed. Though, I suspect you will hear it before I do. She was sporting the Blood Knight colours, afterall."

Ina'thia actually smiles at that, "...Good. I'm glad she still wears them. Hopefully I'm reinstated soon and can speak with her more easily." 

Ruthar nods. "If I can be of any assistance with all that, do let me know. Speaking of," he says as he picks up the now-empty bottles. "Where are you staying?"

Ina'thia puzzles out Ruthar's question, to which the answer seemed quite obvious. "...Tonight? Here. I can't be fucked to travel anywhere else right now. Tomorrow, I'll be laying in the years of dust in my apartment in the city." 

Ruthar looks around the dusty office, noting the distinct lack of comfort. "To Argus with that, you're not staying here." He gathers the bottles and takes the glasses. "Come on, I'll put you up in the inn across the way. They've got some nice beds."

Ina'thia had already started leaning on the table like she was going to curl up and sleep there. She groans loudly, but ultimately follows Ruthar. "Fine, if you insist... I guess it'd be nice to not be stiff in the morning..." 

Ruthar gathers the bottles and glassware and throws them in his pack before assisting the inebriated Ina'thia out of the former Guard headquarters. Fortunately, none of the Shattered Sun pay them any mind, most likely due to the tabard Ruthar still sports as they move toward the inn. After a quick discussion with Inaara, a nice room overlooking the Isle’s scenery is prepared for Ina’thia for some well-deserved rest.

Ruthar departed once Ina’thia was settled, returning to the former Phoenix Guard headquarters, his head beginning to throb in the wine’s aftermath. He climbed the stairs once more, making his way to the top of the building to look upon the meeting room where so much happened. As he walked around, faces and images danced through his mind, memories, both fond and painful, swirling around his head as he recalled his many companions within the Guard.

He moved over to the broken office door, the latch cracked by Ina’thia’s gusto. With the security of the office compromised, Ruthar rummaged for a dusty box to collect the paperwork left behind. He overturned the decommissioning notice with a sigh, placing it in the box first as he stared down upon it. So much had changed with one simple parchment.

After the contents of the office were collected, he scribbled a note that he left with Innkeeper Inaara for when Ina’thia rose the next morning.

Ina’thia, With the lock and latch of your former office broken, I gathered the Guard documents and will place them in a secure location for the time being, most likely with the other high-level Farstrider records in Silvermoon. Do let me know if you need them. I do find it difficult to put in words how great it is to see you returned, so I’ll leave it there. Looking forward to more enjoyable evenings. Thank you for the opportunity to speak freely - it is an unfortunate rarity of late. Rest well, you know where to find me. Ruthar

Ruthar thanked Inaara once more for her efforts and informed her of the broken door - he didn’t want anyone thinking that the office was ransacked. He left a sum of gold with her to ensure that it was taken care of, as well as a few pieces for her troubles. With a nod of appreciation, the Ranger Captain departed Quel’Danas to return to Silvermoon.

@inathia

@thefugitivemango @syrielle @arosesrambles @raynellalaria for mentions

[inathia]

Morning reblog because I am genuinely curious who is still out there, what’s been going on for the last like six years and if there’s any interest in throwing a bunch of crabby old Blood Knights in the same room sometime soon.

*chin hands*

WrA BK RP

*twiddles thumbs* >_> ... <_< ...

What's happening with Blood Knight RP on Wyrmrest Accord these days? Inquiring minds want to know.

#ooc #wyrmrest accord

[inathia]

WrA BK RP

*twiddles thumbs* >_> ... <_< ...

What's happening with Blood Knight RP on Wyrmrest Accord these days? Inquiring minds want to know.

#kinda thinking maybe i'd get back into this #very casually #because despite all the nonsense i do miss it #help an ancient gamer out my dudes #ooc

[inathia]

A Reunion Long in the Making

A familiar figure stands at the shoreline of an equally familiar place. The once-Commander of the Phoenix Guard still holds her same rigid posture as she looks out to the sea, sipping from a cup of tea. Her armor pieces, survival bag and other (few) belongings are neatly arranged on a table behind her.

Ruthar enters the old Guard stomping grounds quietly, though not silently. He stands there for a moment, his mind flooded with memories before slowly moving toward the shoreline. His helmet is removed, the wind tossing his silver-white hair.

“So, it seems the reports are indeed true.”

Ina'thia's ears flick as she hears footsteps. Her hand instinctively grasps her sword. Then, the familiar voice. Her grip loosens. "...Good to know that the Farstriders still do their jobs well. It'd have been embarrassing to have snuck in completely unnoticed." With a grin, she turns on her heel to face Ruthar.

Ruthar's typically stoic visage turns a smile, the glint of a tear in his eyes as the sunlight reflects off of the water. "Commander Dawnblade," he says softly, moving toward the water's edge. He opens his mouth to continue but finds words difficult in the present situation.

Ina'thia also struggles with a faint glimmer of a tear in her eye. Ever the stoic Commander, she forces an even expression by raising her chin a little bit. "Just Ina'thia, these days..." she gently corrects, "Ranger-Captain." 

Ruthar places his bow down on the table next to Ina'thia's belongings. "If titles are now off the table, then Ruthar will do. Let's leave Ranger Captain to the Farstrider recruits."

Ina'thia slowly closes the distance between herself and Ruthar, appraising his appearance with the keen gaze of a commanding officer. Some habits never really die. On the other hand, she looks as though she hasn't had a good night of sleep in years.

"Tell me everything, Ruthar. How have you been? What about your brother? Have you heard from any of the others since we parted ways? Are you doing okay?" 

Ruthar raises his eyebrows at that. "Everything? I'm not entirely sure all of is it interesting." He chuckles as he removes his unnecessarily pointy gauntlets and places them next to Ana'dal. He takes a step closer and places his hand on Ina'thia's shoulder.

"In the last six years, I've never been happier to read a report than the one claiming that you've returned." He smiles genuinely even though his features may appear older. "It really is good to see you, and here - of all places." He looks behind him with a pleasant sigh. "Where it all began."

Ina'thia, now without fear of being scratched by unnecessarily pointy armor bits, goes right in for a hug when Ruthar places a hand on her shoulder. It's a tight hug, going on far longer than she would have ever allowed in her days as Commander.

"It's the only place that made any sense to come to." Finally, she releases him from the hug, but not without taking his hand. "...I'm -so- sorry for leaving the way I did. It's shameful." 

Ruthar returns the hug whole-heartedly, cherishing the moment. He allows her to take his hand as the emotion continues to flow freely. He shakes his head slowly, his voice soft. "There is no shame to be had. So many wars, so much struggle." He sighs as he looks out to the ocean before squeezing her hand and looking back to her. "It has affected us all in so many ways." He shifts away to gather a pair of chairs that he places overlooking the water. "There is so much ground to cover, Ina'thia." He gestures toward the open seat as he stands next to his own.

Ina'thia squeezes Ruthar's hand in return, then follows his gaze and gesture to the open chairs. There was so much to talk about, they'd need chairs and maybe a few nights to cover it all. "I took dissolution and reassignment of the Guard harder than I thought I would," she finally admits after a long moment of silence. "Surprise."

Ruthar places his satchel down as he takes a seat, taking out a flask to sip on while Ina'thia enjoys her tea. He leans back, closing his eyes in thought for a just a moment. "You and me both," he admits. "The Guard was the closest thing I've had to a family since before the fall of Quel'Thalas." He looks out to the water again. "Between you and I, Rehmaar and I are just...not on the same path. We never really have been since we were reunited after we thought each other dead. The Guard filled that deep void, and by the Sunwell I miss it terribly." He lifts his flask in her direction. "There really was no greater honour than serving as your Lieutenant. From Hearthglen to being abducted in Draenor, I'd -almost- do it all again."

Ina'thia gives Ruthar a sidelong look as she sips her tea, frowning a bit. "The Guard was the family we all needed. It even included bratty younger siblings neither of us could stand," she laughs a little bit at that."We made a good family. I miss it terribly, but I'd be content never to journey to Draenor again." 

Ruthar chuckles at that softly. "Deal," he agrees as the pain from his felfire chest scar throbs ever so slightly. "Bratty siblings, obstinate uncles, and relationships better left forgotten." He shakes his head with a smirk. "It really did have it all."

Ina'thia balances her teacup on her thigh and crosses her arms, gazing out at the sea. "Much as I miss everyone, there are some I'm still afraid to speak to. Gattius and I did not end things on a particularly good note," she frowns.

Ruthar allows that to hang in the air for a minute, considering his word choices with care. "Fear is a powerful thing. It has the ability to halt even the most prosperous of futures." He follows her gaze to the horizon. "When I first heard word that you had come back, fear was absolutely a factor - I truly had no idea how you would react to being discovered." He looks down to the immediate shoreline. "Overcoming fear is a path to great reward, a lesson it took far too long to understand."

Ina'thia can't help but chuckle a little bit, "I know better than to fight a ranger in their home forest, if that's what you were fearful about." After a bit of a lull, she wets her lips again to continue speaking. "Fear is what drove me away from home in the first place. After I came home from Kul Tiras, I heard the whispers. Then I saw the shadows. Little things, out of the corner of my eye. Then the obelisks. They were there, but they weren't." 

Ina'thia hangs her head in a strange mix of shame, embarrassment and regret. "I had to leave before I hurt anyone." 

Ruthar considers that for a long moment. "You did what you felt was right," he offers quietly. "There is no shame in that. More importantly, you are here...and N'Zoth is not."

Ina'thia 's face is hidden by her hair, which had fallen over her shoulders as she hung her head forward. "The Guard kept me sane through so many years by being something to focus on. Without it, I went actually gods-damned insane."

Ruthar nods, his mind spinning back to a time long ago. "In the aftermath of the Scourge, having lost truly everything, I was moments from fading to nothingness." He took a small sip from his flask as he watched the water roll over the sand. "Time and again, we find ourselves on the brink and yet here we are." His voice turns more declarative. "There is absolutely no shame in falling from grace in any capacity, Ina'thia. It is what we do after that truly matters." He looks her way with a genuine expression of care and concern. "And you don't need to do it alone. Ever."

Ina'thia would lean over to bump her shoulder against Ruthar's, but his armor was pointy there as well. "You're always so kind and reassuring to me, Ruthar. I... needed that," she finally admits, then downs the rest of her now cold tea. "I don't know what I'm going to do now, t hough. I just knew it was time to come home." 

Ruthar nods, capping his flask. "It is time to come home. Time to be back in Quel'Thalas and re-evaluate. Nothing has reminded me of that more than being right here, right now." He gestures toward Quel'Danas in the distance. "For years now, I've served greater needs, needs far beyond what we have here in Quel'Thalas. But this," he reaches over to pat her knee, "Us. Our people. This place. These memories. -This- is what truly matters."

Ina'thia rests the teacup on her thigh again, "I served the greater needs for so long. No regard for myself. And when I was finally relieved of that burden, I didn't know who I was. I've traveled the world, Ruthar, and I still have trouble defining myself beyond what I think I should do instead of who I am. Maybe making amends is a good place to start."

"That means talking to Magister Everblaze... if I'm set on fire in the coming days, you'll know why."

Ruthar would spit out his drink if he had liquid in his mouth. He composes himself in an attempt to hide his shock. "I'm not entirely sure that's the best first move. I hate to use the term, but hatchling steps. Jumping right to the Magister seems like a lot very quickly."

Ina'thia raises a brow at Ruthar, "Do you really think so? I've always thought to do the hardest thing first. Get it out of the way quickly. But, I see the strategic advantage in apologizing to the most people -before- I meet a fiery end." Ina'thia touches her chin thoughtfully.

“I mean, the Farstriders caught wind of you rather quickly. I would imagine the Magistry wouldn't be -too- far behind.” Ruthar sighs. "Regardless, what do you owe him anyway? I never felt that he did much for -us-."

Ina'thia anxiously fidgets with her teacup, "Oh, I know he already knows I'm here. He has spies everywhere. They hide in plain sight, instead of the trees." She sighs. "...He and I became... involved. I left him without so much as a word." 

Ruthar raises his eyebrows at that and considers it for a moment. "Well, like you said - he has spies everywhere. If he wanted revenge or retaliation for your actions, he would already have it, no?"

Ina'thia runs her thumb over the lip of her teacup. "He's a stubborn and prideful man. If anything, he'd refuse to speak to me, especially if he knows I want to apologize. Or, set me on fire. It'll be the toss of a gold coin." 

Ruthar considers her words. "Do -you- want to apologize?"

"...I feel like it's something I should probably do, yes. I guess." 

Ruthar nods, watching the rim of her empty teacup. "There is a hard line to walk when it comes to doing what is right and doing what is needed." He looks up at her. "I just want you doing what is best for -you-, first and foremost."

Ina'thia peers over at Ruthar, "What I -want- to do is drink a whole bottle of Eversong red and fall asleep by a tree somewhere. But what I need to do is, well... make amends to those I've hurt." 

Ruthar reaches into his satchel and produces a bottle of Thalassian red, ever-prepared for these sorts of things. "I think both can be arranged," he says slyly.

Ina'thia lets out an audible gasp at the bottle of wine. Of course he, of all people, would be prepared for such an occasion. "Light and Sunwell bless you for this, Ruthar. You know me well." 

Ruthar slips it back in his bag with a chuckle, standing up from the chair. "I think there are some glasses still inside somewhere," he says as he glances back toward the pavilion. "I believe a toast is in order - to a reunion so long in the making."

Ina'thia snatches up her teacup and rises, following Ruthar to the pavilion. "I think the last time we shared a bottle of wine, we just drank straight from it. Legs dangling over the edge of my balcony on Quel'Danas," she gestures to the isle in the distance.

Ruthar chuckles. "That sounds about right. Perhaps we should pay the Shattered Sun a visit."

Ina'thia fusses with her hair as they head over to the pavilion, "I think that's a great idea. See what's happened to my old office! Something dreadfully boring, I'm sure. Either way... it's been far too long since I've gazed upon the Sunwell." 

Ruthar smiles. "I can think of no better way than to celebrate your return to Quel'Thalas than a voyage to the Isle." He gathers his items from the table and offers her belongings to her. "Shall we?"

Ina'thia begins the task of donning her armor once again. Despite its many pieces and parts, she's well-practiced in putting it on by herself. Soon enough, she has secured her runeblade to her belt and looks at Ruthar with a smile. A genuine one, this time.

"Ruthar... you are my greatest, and truest friend. My brother. To Quel'Danas!"

@inathia

[inathia]

[inathia]

Returning Home

The jewel-toned leaves of citrine, topaz and ruby crunched under the heavy footfalls of a child of blood long overdue for their return home. Black boots caked in enough mud, sand and blood made them appear dull, almost gray in appearance. The entire suit of armor had much of the same wear and tear after years of travel. A once pristine black tabard with a red phoenix was layered over the armor, with years of dutiful mending evident on the endlessly frayed and repaired hems.

Stopping just outside of Fairbreeze Village, the weary traveler looked up at the tall inn building. Memories of a past lifetime of chasing little lordlings caused a derisive exhale, though the days of walking had certainly taken a toll. A brief rest for a proper meal couldn't hurt, could it?

Finally, the tattered red hood that covered the traveler's face fell back over her head, settling around her neck much like a scarf. The face of Ina'tha Dawnblade, the once-decorated Knight Lord of the Blood Knight Order, and once-proud Commander of the Phoenix Guard, finally allowed herself to be seen. It was unclear if she'd been hiding her face out of shame for her abrupt and prolonged absence, or her lack of usual dark eye makeup and lipstick. Considering both her pride and her vanity, it was likely both.

With her chin held high, Ina'thia strode right up the ramp and sat a table in the inn. Before the waiter could approach the table, she placed a gold and several silver pieces on its surface.

"A glass of Eversong Red and a fruit and cheese platter."

No please, no thank you. Just the sharp comments of someone who had been away from civilization or entirely too long. Patrons of the Fairbreeze Village inn whispered in hushed tones amongst themselves, and Ina'thia couldn't help but catch one well-dressed man out of the corner of her eye. He had watched her a moment too long, and his chair made a gods-awful sound on the floor as he got up too quickly.

The man hurried outside in a whirl of red and gold robes, speaking quietly into an enchanted gemstone. Ina'thia leveled her one-eyed gaze on him as he left, then sipped at her wine the moment it was brought to her.

"M-Magister… are you there? Magister Everblaze…" the man stammered, covering his mouth so his lips could not be read, "You're not going to believe this. She's here."

@thefugitivemango

#ina'thia dawnblade #bey'ron everblaze #world of warcraft #wyrmrest accord #am i back? maybe idk i just felt like writing

[inathia]

❤️ I too miss the good ol days and all of the internet friends I made along the way. I keep in touch with some, but have lost contact with most everyone else. I burned out so hard. I often think about how everyone has been doing and what we’ve all been up to, now that we’re all in our 30’s and 40’s. I hope everyone is well.

can we start a club for aging millennials who went entirely too hard as guild masters in WoW, who now experience actual nausea when confronted with the idea of ever running a guild, free company or running any kind of RP group ever again? like where are we hanging out these days?

[inathia]

can we start a club for aging millennials who went entirely too hard as guild masters in WoW, who now experience actual nausea when confronted with the idea of ever running a guild, free company or running any kind of RP group ever again? like where are we hanging out these days?

#i listened to one (1) song from Legion and nostalgia happened help

[inathia]

“People say hate is a wasted emotion, a destructive force you can do nothing useful with. They’re wrong. I’ve gripped rage, I’ve wielded it like a weapon.”

— Laura Purcell, from The Corset (via adrasteiax)

#hello friends #I’m still here #what up

[inathia]

i don’t think I’m ever going to get over this line

#oof right in the feels

[inathia]

Fairytale …

[inathia]

Leila Khashagulgova

#this is what I imagined when I described Ina in formal dresses #wow this is gorgeous

[inathia]

The Shadows Speak

content warning: depictions of anxiety, depression, intrusive thoughts. Sponsored by: the old gods and me putting off other stuff I should be doing.

Keep reading

#morning reblog

[inathia]

The Shadows Speak

content warning: depictions of anxiety, depression, intrusive thoughts. Sponsored by: the old gods and me putting off other stuff I should be doing.

It started with a whisper. Slight, innocuous, something she would have normally ignored. But she heard it that time, loud as the artillery fire that supported her squadron’s advance onto the shores of Stormsong Valley.

ₐᵣₑ yₒᵤ ₛᵤᵣₑ?

(Are you sure?) 

Ina’thia didn’t have time to contemplate what she was unsure about. The thing that was for certain is that the Kul Tiran militia and shipbuilders had every intention of killing her, unless she killed them first.

ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ. ᴷⁱˡˡ ᵒʳ ᵇᵉ ᵏⁱˡˡᵉᵈ. ᵀʰᵃᵗ’ˢ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵃʸ, ʰᵃˢⁿ’ᵗ ⁱᵗ?

(You’re good at that. Kill or be killed. That’s always been your way, hasn’t it?)

The veteran Blood Knight shook her head, and snarled under her metallic faceplate. Pushing the voice out of her mind, she pushed forward to lead the charge. Steel met steel as she cut swaths through the Kul Tirans that opposed her. They were hardly a challenge — aging, overweight and drunk humans with hammers and axes. Despite their best efforts, they never stood a chance against the skilled and vengeful might of a first generation Blood Knight.

ᵢₜ wₒₙ'ₜ bₑ ₗₒₙg, ₙₒw. Yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ ₗₑₜ ₘₑ ᵢₙ. ₗₑₜ'ₛ ₕₐᵥₑ ₛₒₘₑ fᵤₙ ₜₒgₑₜₕₑᵣ.

(It won’t be long, now. You’ve let me in. Let’s have some fun together.) 

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. The Horde had secured their holdings in Stormsong Valley, and the Knight-Lord’s squadron was sent to Drustvar. There’s nothing that Dawnblade can’t conquer. For the Horde! And so they went, proudly, to the haunted shores of an island long abandoned. They fought pirates, eerie beasts with eyes that reminded her of lichfire, and the witches and crones that controlled them. One enemy after another fell as Knight-Lord Dawnblade cut a swath through Kul Tiras. For the Horde. 

Yₒᵤ'ᵣₑ ₐ ᵥₐᵢₙ cᵣₑₐₜᵤᵣₑ. Yₒᵤ ₗₒᵥₑ ₜₕₑ ₐₜₜₑₙₜᵢₒₙ ₜₕₐₜ ₑₐcₕ ᵥᵢcₜₒᵣy bᵣᵢₙgₛ. ₛₒₒₙ, yₒᵤ wᵢₗₗ fₐₗₗ ₜₒ ₐₙ ₑₙₑₘy yₒᵤ cₐₙ'ₜ ₛₑₑ.

(You’re a vain creature. You love the attention that each victory brings. Soon, you will fall to an enemy you can’t see.) 

“Who’s there?” Ina’thia hissed from within her tent, glancing around from the bruising on her shield arm and scrapes on her knuckles. The last battle had been hard-fought, but they won. A mind-controlled warg had ripped her shield away and she had been disarmed. One spell and a swift punch later solved the problem, but she still cursed herself for falling prey to the distraction. That damn voice wouldn’t get out of her head. Teasing and taunting her for months, Ina’thia grew worried that she’d miss those dulcet tones nagging at the back of her thoughts.

ₕₑ dₒₑₛₙ'ₜ ₗₒᵥₑ yₒᵤ.

(He doesn’t love you.) 

The voice took on a new target as she returned to Quel’thalas, with her assigned missions completed. The homecoming to Silvermoon was not as sweet as it usually was for her, this time. Instead of taking a leisurely stroll through the city and catching up with other Blood Knights, Ina’thia retreated immediately to Everblaze Manor out in the forest. Even then, she made little contact with the manor’s servants, both elven and imp, and even avoided the manor’s owner and her own lover. Magister Bey’ron Everblaze was respectful of the space she seemed to have needed, but his obvious concern for her caused the voice to become more vile.

Yₒᵤ'ᵣₑ ₐ ₚₐwₙ ᵢₙ ₕᵢₛ ₚₗₐₙₛ, yₒᵤ ₖₙₒw. ₐ bₐᵣgₐᵢₙᵢₙg cₕᵢₚ. ₛₕₒᵤₗdₑᵣₛ ₜₒ ₛₜₐₙd ₒₙ. Yₒᵤ'ᵣₑ bₑₜₜₑᵣ ₒff ₐₗₒₙₑ.

(You’re a pawn in his plans, you know. A bargaining chip. Shoulders to stand on. You’re better off alone.) 

With a heaviness in her heart, she finally began to listen to the voice in earnest and believe what it had to say to her. It wasn’t long before she left Everblaze Manor on horseback with little more than her armor, her weapon and a few changes of clothes. She had to leave. The voice told her to. Without a word to Bey’ron, she set for the city proper. From there, the Undercity. From there, Orgrimmar. From there, a ship to Pandaria. From there, a kite to Kun-Lai. From there, a yak ride to the base of the mountain. From there, the arduous journey, all too familiar for her, on foot in the unforgiving wind and snow.

How fitting that she ended up in Kun-Lai. Her last crisis of faith, crisis of self and crisis of purpose had been on mission in Pandaria. She had just lost Arai, and had pushed away Thyrus and Josrial, and so many of her other friends she thought were dear to her. Always the job. Always the mission. No room for failure. 

ₜₕᵢₙₖᵢₙg ₒf ₜₕₑₘ wₒₙ'ₜ bᵣᵢₙg ₜₕₑₘ bₐcₖ. ₜₕₑy'ᵣₑ gₒₙₑ, bₑcₐᵤₛₑ ₒf yₒᵤ.

(Thinking of them won’t bring them back. They’re gone, because of you.) 

She wasn’t sure if it was the bitter cold, the harsh winds or the crushing weight of her gear, but her vision had started to play tricks on her. Shadows seemed to coalesce and take the form of friends and oved ones. Their shadowy figures seemed to be always just out of her reach, and their eyes had a strange orange glow to them. She could make out a peculiar ring in their eyes, disrupted only by several long lines and what she thought were runes. Strange... they were far enough away that she couldn’t touch them, but she saw their eyes with such clarity.

Arkanae shook his head with disappointment at her and vanished. Arai held the hand of another woman and vanished. Josrial gave a wave over his shoulder and vanished. Thyrus threw his hands up in frustration and vanished. Hylaudius threw a ring onto the floor and turned away, dragging his greatsword on the ground as he vanished. Gattius made vulgar gestures at her and vanished. Bey’ron covered his face with a black hood and vanished. Sineros looked at her with disappointment, shaking his head as he vanished just as the others did.

The flag of the Phoenix Guard crumbled to dust. Only the shadows remained, coalescing from the ashes of the Phoenix Guard. 

ₜₕₑy'ᵣₑ gₒₙₑ ₙₒw. ₒₙₗy ᵢ cₐₙ ₕₑₗₚ yₒᵤ. ₗₑₜ gₒ.

(They’re gone now. Only I can help you. Let go.) 

“Please... help me...” Ina’thia sank to her knees in the snow, shivering violently from the relentless cold. She reached her hand out to what should have been the sun, but was yet another eye, and one of those tendrils of shadow wrapped tightly around her wrist. It pulled her to the ground; calling out for help was the last thing she remembered as she fell. 

She hoped someone heard her -- anyone -- Grummles, Shado-Pan, pilgrims to the Temple of the White Tiger. Someone. Anyone.

All that remained was the voice.

Y̸̮̥͉̻͈͛̑͐̑ò̵̙̞̙̼͚͕́͐̏̌̃͘ű̸̺͕̩͋̉̈́͊̎̅ ̴̙͎͈̠̕a̵͉͖͎̱̜̞̻͌̾̍̑͐̊͠͠ŕ̷̜̝͑̉ͅẹ̵̃́ ̵̧̧̙̮͉̻͚̠̭͛̈́̒̿͋͛m̷̬͕̳͔̟̩͖̬͛̔͜i̵̛͙̣̯̞̤͈͋̾̆́̄͛̍n̵͚͖͔͑ë̶͍̲͉̞́̾̓̈́͆̋͝͠ ̸̢̢̢̱̩̝͕͈̘̔n̸̢̡͚͚̩̻̠̱͋̒̔̑̿̍͜͠ȯ̷̹͇w̵̢̛̛͉͎̗̠̺͖͎̉̋̿̽̎͘.̴̟̱͎͙̥͉̯̱̂͝

(You are mine now.) 

BIG OOC NOTE: It’s been awhile, guys. The latter part of 2019 was rough, and 2020 was also rough before things here in the U.S. turned into an absolute shit show. I have a new (better) job, have been to therapy, had joint surgery a few months ago (that I’m still recovering from) and through it all, finally found my creative voice again. Although my interests no longer lie with WoW and Ina’thia is considered a retired character, I’ve learned not to spurn my creativity when it comes to visit. As Ina’thia in the story has sunk into depression and despair, I spent a lot time there, myself. Things are better, but it isn’t sunshine and rainbows all the time. But there are more good days than bad days, now. 

I miss my friends in WoW and hope that you are all doing well. It seems cliche to throw in a “in these strange times...” sort of thing, but I’m gonna do it. In these strange times, don’t be a stranger. Even people like Ina’thia who seem tough as nails probably aren’t. Tell your friends you love them, talk to someone, stay in touch. I know I’m guilty of dropping off the face of the earth and man, it sucks. But going to therapy was the best thing I could have ever done for myself, and helped prepare me for the “gifts” that 2020 keeps giving. 

Take care of yourselves, nerds. See you around.  ♡

EDIT: Turns out, my cool garbled old god text shows up as mostly question marks on mobile. >:( I added a plain text version of the voice so it can be read on all platforms.

#writing #story #ina'thia dawnblade #wyrmrest accord #this is not a happy story #but one that needed to be written #even the people we think are strongest have a breaking point #i found mine #ina found hers #she'll get out of it just as i did #it just takes time #love you friends