#also dark!naga because i love him and his face tattoo and his silver eyes

[norihisahyuga-archived]

if you're still doing the kiss thing. 17 Balance/Naga

Balance has seen more than their fair share of the interior of Jark Matter ships at this point; the Kyurangers have been fighting for years, so they’ve had plenty of time to get used to the way these ships look inside. They just haven’t anticipated being led, cuffed, down one of these long dark hallways to where the Jark Matter commander of this particular squadron awaits.

They had been dreading this moment. Ever since the incident with Akyanba five years ago, they knew this day would inevitably come. They had failed in their efforts to bring their friend back around to himself, and the Kyurangers had been dealt a serious blow as a result. It was the first time they lost a teammate permanently with no chance of him coming back around.

It would only make sense that a master thief would be well-suited to the position of commander, and even now Balance has to admit that they’re impressed with their former partner’s skill in finding what’s left of the Kyurangers and bringing them to Jark Matter’s version of justice. It’s just Balance, Champ, Hammi, and Kotaro now. The others… Balance isn’t sure what happened to them. They haven’t heard from any of their friends since the various separations occurred.

Naga awaits in what feels more like a throne room than anything else, draped across the cushioned chair, still dressed in black and purple like he had been the first time Akyanba had ensnared him with her trickery. The dark mark on his face shows up vividly between his silver hair and his skin, and when he sees Balance at the front of the group, his eyes flash a dangerous and abnormal silvery shade. They had never done that in all of the time Balance had known him, and they still feel unsettled every single time they see it happen.

“So, here you are,” Naga says, rising to his full height, the black robes swirling around him as he steps forward. “The last of the Kyurangers. You put up quite a fight. I’m impressed.”

No one speaks. Kotaro is exhausted, Champ whirs softly with barely-contained rage, and Hammi only fixes a torn gaze on Naga— does she still carry some guilt all these years later? Balance doesn’t know how to feel. They should only feel revulsion and a desire to escape as quickly as possible, but it’s hard to not feel a little relief to see Naga standing so tall and proud.

“Did you expect us to come quietly?” Hammi finally asks, and Naga curls his lips at her.

“Of course not. I know better than anyone just what kind of fight you’re capable of putting up.” He spreads his arms wide; his smile is deadly. “Which is how I was able to defeat you.”

One of his men steps up to him, a velvet and lacquer box resting in his hands, and Naga opens it with a flourish. Balance startles to see seven kyu globes resting inside on a black pillow; Naga’s is missing, still corrupted into the Dark kyu globe by Akbanya’s magic.

“I’ll be adding your kyu globes to my collection. You won’t need them anymore.” Another man steps up and hands Naga a small bag, and Naga plucks each kyu globe out, placing it neatly inside the box. Gold, green, black, and sky blue. “You should have seen how hard Lucky fought to keep his. But in the end, nothing can truly stand against Jark Matter.”

“Is that why you became one of their commanders instead of fighting back?” Balance demands.

Naga isn’t even ruffled by the words. He just turns eyes that flash silver once again toward Balance’s direction. “I could fight and lose, or join and succeed. An easy decision, Balance.”

The sound of their name rolling off of Naga’s tongue is disconcerting in more ways than one. “You swore to fight against this once. I can’t… How could you do this to us? Naga, you—”

“I was once on your side and willing to give up my entire self to protect the universe. And in the end, I suffered and we failed, and it meant nothing.” Naga presses his palms together and leans in, and Balance fights the urge to lean away from him. They can’t abandon their partner, even now, not really. “But now, I have power and prestige and respect. And I have emotions, too.”

“Negative emotions,” Champ argues. “That’s all that’s left in you now. There’s nothing good.”

Balance wishes they could argue the point because it isn’t fair to say such a thing to Naga. It isn’t his fault he ended up like this, not really. This isn’t the real Naga, not their Naga.

“And here I am, standing tall at the end of your struggle while you’re brought to me in chains. Truly, I must have made a bad choice.” Naga laughs, a high shrieking sound.

Seeing him like this rips at something in Balance’s chest and they wish they could bring Naga out of this no matter what it costs. To save Naga, to restore him to who he used to be… That would be what the real Naga would want, right? He wouldn’t want to be left in this shell of a body, this dark personality that wears his face and speaks with his voice.

“It’s only fair that you get the same choice that I received once,” Naga says, spreading his hands once again. “It’s very simple, you see. You can side with us and live, or you can defy us and die. There are plenty of positions open, and Don Armage can be very forgiving.”

“You want us to work with Jark Matter?” Kotaro sounds horrified, and Balance can feel that familiar panic settling in again. After all, they always knew it would come to this.

“Some of your number have acclimated well to their new positions. Some…” Naga shrugs. “I offered them what I offer you now, but they chose not to accept the offer.”

Hammi stumbles and Balance leans back, the only thing they can do to catch her before she falls. She sags against them. “You… You couldn’t have. Naga, you couldn’t have killed—”

Naga laughs. “I gave them a choice, Hammi. And they chose of their own free will.”

“Choice,” Champ spits. “As if something like this could ever be a real choice. Naga, come on!”

“Balance, I’m very interested to hear what choice you plan on making. You can either choose the way of some of your friends, or you can choose to stay here with me.” Naga smiles, and Balance has to admit that one of the only things they’ve ever wanted was to see Naga smile properly. It just kills them that it has to be in a situation like this one. “You’ve missed me, haven’t you? I know I’ve missed you. We used to be partners. We could be partners again.”

“Stop it, Naga.” Hammi makes to step between them but one of the guards pulls her back, unwilling to let her any closer to the commander. “You can’t do this to Balance, it isn’t fair.”

“I… I’ve thought about it before. I thought it would come to this. I saw… You had Spada in your squadron the last time you came after us.” Balance watches Naga smile, delighted, but it’s still sad to have this confirmed for them. “I… I have missed you. I can’t just… I can’t leave you again.”

When Naga smiles this time, there’s nothing but pure joy and delight in his eyes, and Balance wishes they could shake him awake because as good as it feels to see Naga smile like he’s always wanted to, this is wrong. This is wrong on so many levels, and Balance doesn’t even know where to begin anymore. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down. You never have, not even when we first became Kyurangers. You couldn’t leave me behind then, either.” Naga drifts close enough to run a hand down the side of Balance’s face. “And oh, I’ve missed you so much.”

“Sir?” One of the guards clears his throat and Naga lifts his head, his expression betraying clear irritation at being interrupted. “Would you like us to take the others to holding cells so that they can think over their decisions as you had us do with the others?”

“That would be fine with me. Send Ohtori to check on them in a few hours. It might do them good to see what’s happened to their legendary warrior in his short amount of time here.” Naga speaks with such cruelty in his voice, and Balance closes their eyes at the sound.

The others are quickly escorted out and Naga retrieves a set of keys from one of the guards, unlocking the cuffs keeping Balance’s hands behind their back. Against their better judgement, they reach for Naga immediately, and he makes a soft humming noise in the back of his throat as he lets himself be pulled forward, arms resting light and easy around Balance’s shoulders.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” he whispers before leaning down, a gentle sway of his body.

This feels familiar enough, at least. Naga leans down and Balance leans up, the only way to breach the height difference between the two of them. They have to find a way to bring Naga back to himself, but for now, this will have to do. Naga still kisses the same way he always did, a little hesitant and uncertain so that Balance has to guide him, but he finds the rhythm well enough after a few minutes. And it’s familiar enough that Balance can pretend, for just a moment, that all is well, and that they aren’t going to have to hurt the person they love most in the world just to bring him back from this shroud of darkness.

#asks #balance using they/them pronouns ftw #also dark!naga because i love him and his face tattoo and his silver eyes

[trixcuomo]

1: A Monotone Hello to Trixany

Welp, I had to bridge the gap in my playtime and TR's RP backstory since WotLK somehow... And you might recognize some of my characters from the My Life for My Prince universe on fanfiction.net

“Hello. My name is Fennore and I was a… A Sunfury Bloodknight.”

Everyone, “Hello, Fennore…”

The meeting began that way, a little hopeful, but then it dwindled down to sorrowful exchanges and unhappy endings after each story Fennore shared about his current misadventures.

And then, Fennore the Immortal, once a great Bloodknight, was now cowed before Lady Liadrin. She stood over him, stern as ever, and offered a steaming cup of tea.

“Drink!”

“No, I’m fine—”

“It’s chamomile.”

“Oh? Oh… I think I can manage chamomile.” A flame orange succubus seated next to Fennore swept a hand up and down his back, following his gaze with her own. She watched him sip the tea with a chilling intimacy no mortal woman (or pet even) could manage, her nose almost in his cup.

The other paladins seated in Liadrin’s parlor were just as downtrodden. Though, sitting very straight and stone-faced about not wrinkling the doilies on the dominating Bloodknight Matriarch’s couch did make them appear almost as alert as in the olden days.

Fennore, now looking a notch better than death warmed up, sighed and went on with his story, “Well, Mavia and I are at least doing better with our nextdoor neighbors. Since the Tilldien’s son came back home, you know Avren the Malevolent, he’s an Illidari—"

The rest nodded that they remembered. And there were a few wistful looks over what were no doubt savage, yet sentimental memories.

"A Demon Hunter. So, of course they’re forced to be a lot more tolerant of Mavia and I.”

“Thank the Sun,” Daphne the Weaver, another holy paladin, shook her head. “A Demon Hunter. It’ll be the one thing that can get those… normies out there to wrap their minds around a Blood Elf and a succubus being together. I mean, the Burning Crusade was how long ago? And people still aren’t tolerant? Succubae, demons, Night Elves, Blood Elves, Demon hunters, Naga—we all worked in such close quarters in Outland and that was wars ago! We’ve all paid our dues with Kael’thas, and Illidan, by now. We all did what we had to do during that war, to survive. Are we really supposed to go on and ditch our old friends and loves and pretend it didn’t happen? Why don’t people just forgive?!”

Lady Liadrin shot Daphne a look next. Daphne folded sheepish hands in her lap, “Sorry, Matriarch. I guess I was… relapsing again.”

“I know you were, dear. We live in a world where warlocks definitely aren't allowed to marry their own succubae. A skilled Bloodknight who also tried to be a demonologist, however the corrupt Sunfury bent the rules for our Fennore back then—he’s bound to have a difficult… disturbing journey today. Well I mean, what's done is done and love is love. But you’re not Illidari or Sunfury or anything like it anymore, Fennore, and some things just aren’t acceptable to most people. Especially when difficult, disturbing Kael’thas is the one who started this strange journey for you.” Liadrin walked back to the coffee table, frowning, “That crazy bloodmage warlock…”

Liadrin offered more tea to the four other paladins. Anxious, overly-polite ‘no thank yous’ came from all around the room.

“Well. I think we’ve made progress this evening, in any case. It’s been a decade,” Liadrin made a light laugh, “but we will prove to them, and soon, that we can rehabilitate corrupt Sunfury Bloodknights into proper Silver Hand paladins. Today, I didn’t hear anything about bloodlust, or addiction, or obsessions with marrying Kael’thas Sunstrider…”

Everyone looked at Saturna Whiteblade then, the youngest member of their group. She raised eyebrows, “Ex boyfriend… I did say he was my ex this time! I know I’ll never be… the queen of Quel’thalas,” Saturna rolled her eyes.

“I know you did, dear.” Liadrin came over and smoothed white blonde bangs away from Saturna’s face, as if she was her own daughter, “Very good girl.”

“Alrighty then.” Liadrin beamed, “If you all survive the Horde’s new trials in Zandalar, and your nosey neighbors—same time next month?”

A heavy knock on the door. Then, whoever knocked didn’t bother to wait for a response. She threw it open.

“Ho god!” Went the Sunfury once known as Sunthraze the Sly. He hopped up on his end of the couch as if he’d seen a large cockroach skitter by his toes.

Trixany yelled, “The HELL is this?!”

Liadrin narrowed her eyes at the stormy redhead who’d… uh… stormed in, “Tempest… or what do you prefer to be called now? Trixany?”

Trixany, red-faced, slammed the door closed again behind herself, “I was locked up! All I did was start a fight when they started insulting Kael’thas… you must’ve heard about it? And I wrote so many letters over the years. Why didn’t you guys do anything?”

“Yes. I believe something did… come across my desk. Probably. Ten years ago.” Liadrin confirmed, dryly.

Trixany, still catching her breath, “But no one sprang me? I thought we Bloodknights were above the law. That was the whole point of the mission, the whole reason the six of us were sent to save Kael’thas—to break the laws and bring his… sorry ass home from Outland!” Tempest’s voice flew up at the end, emotional, “Then, I finally make it out of Sunspire Keep… but it’s like ten years later… and I was ringing your door bell, like forever just now, Liadrin… They didn’t want to let me into the house… But why not—”

“Kael’thas made his dark choice back then. We were allied with the Horde, I led our Bloodknights in doing what we had to do. You were supposed to accept it with grace and dignity—”

“My life for my prince and all that?” Trixany managed a weak, very tired, Sunfury salute.

No one else in the room returned it. Sunthraze might have coughed once, uncomfortable.

Trixany bubbled up, “I don’t get this?! Why are you all in here like pansies, sipping tea? What about the Thalassian Empire? The Exodar—we gotta go punish those Draenei!”

Liadrin crossed her arms, “No, we do not. The Draenei are well embedded in the Alliance by now. We’re focused on different conflicts these days.”

“The hell we are! And that Illidan—I heard he was back. Where is he now? We’d better mount up, get to him while there’s still time. Let’s catch Illidan and finally punish him for how he crossed Kael’thas! Come on, everybody…” Trixany turned back to the door, sword in hand. Then, she realized no one in that room was following her.

Pyorin the Tank shook his head sorrowfully, “No, Trixany. Illidan had a whole redemption arc. He helped us save Azeroth. Again. Weirdly enough.”

Trixany’s eyes went wide, “Illidan… WHAAAT?!” She shook Fennore next, “What about you? Fennore, you were the most zealous… you were Kael’thas' personal confessor, you followed Kael’thas to the end, I know you did. He even showed you how to use warlock powers secretly, the whole... well some... of the Sunfury Army was so impressed with your dark powers—you defied everything and married some weird succubus! Right?”

Mavia snarled, “She was an Illidari Maneater and she has a name…”

“…We were all so great back then at the Black Temple, and at Tempest Keep too! Breaking all the rules, bending the Light to our will, the most powerful Bloodknights in existence! Yes, the Silver Hand hated us, but it was glorious because we were the Sunfury, we were the elite Bloodknights, and we were unstoppable!”

Liadrin tutted, “Child, you need to please sit down, have some tea and stop acting like you stumbled out of a toolbooth, or a tardis, or fell off a bronze dragon for pity’s sake.” Then, Liadrin walked to the coffee table. She picked up the teapot, poured.

Trixany watched the steaming amber chamomile tea fill up the dainty cup. She heard Liadrin talking about the Light, how they were all together as one in the Silver Hand, how they had a higher purpose… all of it so slow. All of it so painful in her ears.

Trixany fumed, “Then what did we fight and die for, in Outland?!”

Pyorin crossed his leg casually and shrugged, “Well… nothing, apparently.”

“Have a seat, Trixany. Drink it. Please. It's camomile...” Liadrin closed in. The teacup covered in tiny pink roses rattled slightly on its saucer.

Trixany backed up, to the one empty chair.

“You’ll feel better, Trixany. We have monthly meetings for ex-Sunfury Bloodknights. You are truly and fully a paladin now. Isn’t that nice? A Knight of the Silver Hand. An agent for good…”

“Drink the tea, Trixany…” went all her old comrades, “It’s quite good, these days…”

At last, Trixany heard herself screaming. She lashed out with an arm. Lady Liadrin fell back and the cup and saucer went flying. Hot tea stained them both.

Liadrin yelled, “That is it! I’ve had with it you! Trixany, I want you to think about something now that you’re out of prison. It’s the same question I posed to everyone else here a decade ago! What excuses can you make for being a bully now? Who are you going to blame it on when you take revenge, when you push people around, hrm? Not on Kael’thas! That’s not who we are anymore, alright! And you have a second chance, who knows if you deserve it! We all have to prove ourselves.”

Liadrin closed in, “Trixany, what are you going to do with your life?”

Trixany heated, looked into the eyes of her old soldier friends, “…I’m going to get what I WANT!”

Then, Trixany stormed back out of the room.

Fennore leaned over, whispered to Sunthraze, “Uh… she seemed upset. So, shouldn’t you go after Tempest? Isn’t she still your fiancée? Though I will say she’s more frightening these days, and more tattooed than she ever was!”

Sunthraze itched into his wild auburn ponytail, winced and looked elsewhere, “Nah… I’m good.”

#wyrmrest roleplay #world of warcraft #trixany stories