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dicenne · 3 years

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Day 31 - Life/Death @daily-writing-challenge

Dicenne stared at the portal leading to Oribos, becoming suddenly aware that his heart was pounding rapidly within his chest. This was the bridge between life and death, and others were so casually strolling in like it were a portal to any other city. Was he the only one stuck here on the brink of an existential crisis? This was knowledge that many had sought for millennia, finally answering the age old question of ‘what happens to you after you die?’ It was common knowledge now, and maybe the newness of it all kept everyone away from the dark recesses of their minds and what all of this really meant, but Dicenne couldn’t help but question ‘what now’?

Eventually he did step through that portal, with a lot of hesitation and anxiety for a variety of reasons. He had to see it, his curiosities far outweighed his fears. There was something comforting yet unnatural about knowing what came next, about how it all seemed so real and similar to Azeroth. Different lands, different creatures, like any other new world explored out there, this one just happened to be on another plane of existence...or non-existence. It was difficult to wrap his mind around all of this.

Unconsciously his eyes drifted around in search of familiar faces. He had lost so many in his life, and it was near impossible not to try to look for them. Even though he knew that there were infinite afterlives and the odds of seeing a familiar face were slim to none, it was an instinctive response to being in this place. It had to be for the majority here, right? Most everyone had lost someone important to them in their lives and this was a chance to see them again.

It wasn’t the reason why Dicenne was here though, he had no intention of actually searching for any of them. There was no unfinished business, nothing else he needed to say, and the thought of having to grieve all over again was unbearable. He was here to help with repairs mostly; he doubted that the inhabitants of this city were well versed in the armor and weaponry of Azeroth.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder… Where did his parents and wife end up? Were any of them together? Was his son Kynson grown, or would he still be a baby? Did they remember their lives on Azeroth? Would they even remember him if they saw him?

There were so many questions, and being at the threshold of finding those answers created an internal dichotomy; hence the ‘on the brink of an existential crisis’. What would he even do if he saw someone that he once knew in life?

It was a lot. This whole place was a lot.

His time was spent almost strictly near the forge within Oribos, and even there his breath hitched with every flash of orangish-red hair he saw, thinking that just maybe it was his father Arconis. It never was, and probably never would be: Knowing that and feeling that were clearly two very different things. He had managed a little exploration to sate his adventurous side, but in the end he decided that being in this place was doing more harm than good. Even if the Shadowlands were in peril, life on Azeroth kept going and that was where he belonged.

#dwc2021 #day312021 #story #dicenne #shadowlands #DONE FOR THE YEAR #WOOOOOOOO!

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rosecrownreserve · 3 years

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DWC, Day 31 - Life, Death

Warning: Violence, death of an animal companion.

I decided for today that I would try to write things a little different. I’ve never written in first person perspective before.

I don't know why I'm in such a rush to reach Silvermoon. The march of the dead was pushing on no matter what stood in its way. The humans fell to it, why wouldn't my people meet the same fate? I'm exhausted both physically and mentally, but even rested I don't see myself making a difference alone.

Alone.

It had taken a lot to leave Oleander's body behind. I couldn't carry him, I haven't been able to lift him since he was a cub. I have to shake my head violently and force further thoughts of Oleander out. I can't stop now, going back is for when things are safe again. And I won't be able to see where I'm going if the tears return.

Ahead I see other defenders working hard at repelling packs of the dead and I all too eagerly, though tiredly as well, throw myself into it. This is muscle memory now. Drawing back the string on my bow, letting arrows fly even while having to keep moving to maintain distance. All of this grounds me in a way I need, keeping me from breaking internally from everything that's happening.

We rally ourselves as the bodies lie still once more, the others quickly learned to aim for the heads as well. There's barely time to regroup and exchange any intel before more packs come shuffling along. In the haze of combat, my ears pick up the sound of an all-too-familiar roar with an unsettling twist to it.

Beyond the current group of corpses, an undead lynx being ridden by an armored corpse awaited. Even altered by death, and in the heat of battle, I would never fail to recognize my own partner.

I suppose it made sense, didn't it? There had been some undead animals among the ranks pushing toward Silvermoon. Those that stood in the way of death's advance became part of it once they fell.

Which means if I fall, I could be reunited with him.

But this is the cold shock needed to push me out of my thoughts once more. I'm not ready to die yet, much less become part of something that could threaten the world itself. The rider using my partner has decided to get involved. There are only two other defenders left with me now, spreading out so we aren't all in one place for it to charge.

I don't know if it's coincidence or not, but I become the target of the charging cat. The rider, whether by design or inability to stay atop the pouncing lynx was left behind and tumbling along the ground.

I know the way Oleander fights. I've seen him in action more than enough over the years. But seeing it and having it aimed at me are two very different things. I avoid the charge but as the creepy glowing eyes stare me down, I don't find the strength to fire my arrow.

Dodging further attempts to reach me, or narrowly avoiding swiping claws, I try to keep my distance but he's always been great at keeping with me. Even with the other two firing at it, having dispatched his foolish rider, its clear that his focus is entirely on me.

“Please.” I plead with him. With any hint of him beneath the cold twisted exterior. But even commands don't break the spell upon him. Finally an arrow from one of the others catches his leg to slow his advances, his back already appears to be a pincushion. All of these things crush the part of my mind intently focused on remembering my partner.

My bow is finally drawn once more, my hand unsteadily holding the string. The shouting of the the other defenders has faded from the periphery of my focus. In the distance I know they're having to focus on new enemies while still confused at my hesitation. But all I see before me is my best friend in this world, even as he seeks to kill me. Hobbled leg or not, it's clear what he plans to do.

As he starts to move, my arrow flies.

I'm so sorry.

* * *

This forest isn't like the one I've grown up in. There are so many strange beings around, but all have been friendly. Every so often I catch a scent of something familiar, but the longer I stay the less I smell to make me think of home. How long have I been here?

I miss my friend.

I don't know how they know him but the keepers here once told me I had done a great thing and saved his life. That one day I might be reunited with him if I want to be. As if I wouldn't!

One day they excitedly announced that it was time for me to return. But as they were explaining, I fell into a deep slumber.

You will be reborn, experience life anew!

* * *

I've been placed in a box, told that I'm to have a new master after tonight. My siblings have each been given to people of their own, until only I remain. I can hear the sounds of people beyond the box, they all sound quite happy about something, until everything goes quiet and my box is picked up. I'm being moved!

The top of the box is removed and the light pours in finally. Unlike the long-eared people that have cared for me since birth, the one staring at me is pale, with hair a color I've never seen on a person before.

Something deep inside me fills me with a sense of happiness as we stare at each other. An instinct pleased to be reunited with family.

He removes me from the box at last to hold me in his arms as everyone around returns to their happy activities. By morning, he announces that he plans to call me Myra.

@daily-writing-challenge

#dwc2021 #day312021 #rosecrownreserve

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ainsley-f · 3 years

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Life / Death

Day 31, DWC 2021

[A slightly crumpled page in an old, worn-out notebook is opened up, where barely legible handwriting can be seen quickly penned down.]

I‘ve been thinking about life and death, and the increasingly blurred line in between them. Death is no longer death. Life is…well, exactly as it has always been. This world just keeps getting more and more complicated, and I’m having a hard time keeping up.

Maybe I’m thinking about this because I don’t have to walk very long until I come face to face with the very portal to the afterlife. It’s a bit…jarring to think about. I can easily just…step through it. I don’t think I will, but the temptation is there. It has been, since this whole fiasco started. (Although I am curious to meet one of these ‘broker’ creatures…)

[There are several attempts at sentences that have all been scribbled out.]

Has the impact of death lost meaning? Now that we know where it is that our loved ones end up? Where we might end up?

Still sucks, though. Death, that is. That kind of pain can never be alleviated, and seeing it happen right in front of you, well, it’s never been easy. Ain’t gonna get easier either, no matter much information and knowledge we gather up.

But I can’t help but think how I’m merely doorsteps away from Arry…or my mother (do I really want to see her again, though…?)…or Aedyn…or literally anyone. If I would ever even find them. And if they would even remember me.

Is it because I haven’t truly moved on like I’ve spent the last several years of my life convincing myself of? Is moving on constantly thinking of regrets? Is moving thinking on ‘what if’s and other possibilities? Is moving on thinking about reconciliations? Is moving on the fact that I still wear his necklace? I am just stuck in the past, or trying to make my future a bit more bearable? Would answering these questions even solve anything?

Light, thinking about this anymore just gives me a headache. Life itself does that already. Now it seems death does, too.

[Several more lines are hastily scratched out, followed by a series of random, nonsensical doodles.]

Remember when life (and death) was simple?

…

Yeah, me neither.

@daily-writing-challenge

#dwc2021 #day312021 #ainsley-f #writing #wooo challenge complete!#who woulda thunk

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lordrethandus · 3 years

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Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 31 (Finale)

Life/Death ( @daily-writing-challenge )

World: Warcraft/Final Fantasy 14

Theme: Theodulus - The Sail of Eternity

What is life? How do we define it? How do we categorize it? Ask the scholars in Dalaran or in Sharlayan, and you will more or less get the same answer. They will go on and on about the physical requirements for life, the methods in which they came to their conclusions, and the differences between the animated and the unanimated. But then you ask about the undead… about the twiceborn… and all their silly little theories go out the window.

Jaeras stood on the side of the road, watching the parents of her classmates come to dwindle the crowd of kids with each passing minute. The sun was beginning to hang low on the horizon, the soft orange sunlight slipping through the canopy of the woods. She squeezed her doll in a tight hug, her bottom lip starting to quiver while she waited for her mom; did she forget again? Was she going to have to walk home with an Eversong Guard again? The little girl didn’t like strangers, especially ones that didn’t like answering all of her curious questions. The idea of spending the late evening walking with some scary stranger was enough to make her eyes water. Families began to whisper amongst themselves. Mothers grabbed their children and hurried in the opposite direction. Jaeras rubbed at her eyes and sniffled before squinting down the road, seeing a black and silver silhouette against the backdrop of gold and orange trees.

Rethandus was certainly a frightening sight. His black titansteel carapace was designed with skulls from boots to breast, with a healthy layer of frost gathered on his body. His leather hood had holes poked through for his ears, but it cast a permanent shadow to conceal most of his face; only his burning blue eyes could be seen from a distance. Quickly the Eversong Guards mobilized once the news of a Death Knight approaching a school filled with children, stopping him just short of the path leading up to the village itself. “That’s close enough, undead!” Barked one of them. Rethandus simply stopped mid stride when they raised their blades toward him, but said nothing; he could tell by the way the blades shook in their grasp that they were terrified… it would be easy to kill them and be on his merry way, but he wasn’t here to shed blood.

“RETHY!” Both guards turned to see a little elven girl bounding down the hill wearing a backpack almost as big as she was. They were about to stop her from getting any closer, but they noticed the doll in her grasp had a striking resemblance to the man they were about to question. She ran right into the Death Knight’s leg, using her fur coat to keep herself from freezing against his shin.

“Guess that settles it, then.” Spoke the Harbinger, almost cracking a smile. “Come along, little one. Momma’s been busy all day with your surprise… someone is turning eight tomorrow, isn’t she?” Jaeras squealed with excitement while he plucked the backpack off her to carry himself.

Then they turned and walked away without further interruption, leaving both guards dumbfounded.

There is joy in life. The innocence of youth is not something to be squandered. Savor the happiest moments of your life before you regret them forever.

“Push! Come on, your Grace!” She was surrounded by her handmaidens in her hour of need, with three on washcloth duty to keep her cool, and two between her legs, poised to deliver her baby. “Breath in! Breath out! Now… PUSH!”

“RAAAAAAUUUGH!” The Countess squeezed Ijiro’s hand with a strength he was not prepared for! His knuckles went white as he grimaced, but he held in his own shout with a muffled grunt behind clenched teeth. He was Lord Bloodfeather now, and he had a reputation he had to keep, and a wife who could not give one iota of a damn about his discomfort right now. Another damp cloth was rubbed across her sweaty forehead, but she hardly noticed; her eyes were closed tight and her teeth bared, and she was in more pain than she could ever imagine. “AAAAAUUUGH! HAAAAUUGH! AAARGH!”

“Almost there! I see the head!” A handmaiden promised, glancing up at the only man in the room. Ijiro gave her a nod but said nothing, silently wishing he was wearing his gauntlets -- this was his masturbating hand after all. “One more push! Come on…! Three! Two! ONE!”

“GAAAAAAAAUGH!” Syrahn arched her back while her body locked in place! It sounded like she was dying! Like her soul was leaving her body behind! Ijiro gripped his knee with his free hand as his wife squeezed his palm so hard he was about ready to pass out himself! Her scream was long and arduous until at last she settled down! Lord Ijiro Bloodfeather’s face was pale when she finally released her death grip, with the handmaidens gathering between the Countess’ legs to marvel at her bounty.

“It’s… a boy!”

Life often begins the same, more or less; the screams of a mother in pain. Life and pain are consistent bedfellows, after all. To live without suffering is to not live at all -- how can you enjoy the fleeting blissful moments of life without suffering? We suffer… we all suffer… that is the unfortunate truth to it. But where there is life, there is death. Fitting, isn’t it? We find suffering in life, but solace in death. They are two halves of the same coin, you know; life without death is not living at all. Everything born must and will die eventually… and everyone handles the death of their loved ones differently.

On the anniversary of his brother K’nolas’ death, K’thalen would find the nearest clearing in the forest so he could see the stars. Coroh and his crew were with him, of course, huddled around a dead campfire in the middle of the night. The full moon cast a grey haze upon his somber expression. His piercing yellow eyes blinked while he stared off into space, either unwilling or unable to say the words again. Coroh gently placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a tender smile. “Take all the time you need.” She whispered sweetly, causing his ears to perk and his gaze to drift to her lips, but he said nothing. Instead he popped the cork of a half-empty bottle of aged blackheart whiskey, took a swig just large enough for the sour taste, then poured some out for his fallen family.

“Drink up, Nol.” K’thalen weakly mumbled, grimacing for half a heartbeat before his scowl returned. This year he fought his tears and came back victorious.

Sayuune, however, wasn’t so reserved. Her husband’s urn was the heaviest thing she’s ever carried, and it took all her strength and willpower to keep from dropping it from her grip to shatter at her feet. Her daughter had no such restraints, weeping and wailing beside her mother, begging Elune to bring her daddy back. Tears began streaming down the widow’s face when she lifted the lid to see dull grey ash within; she wanted nothing more than to bring him back so they could be a family again, but such things could never be. Tonight she would dream of his smile again, like all the nights before. But they were dreams and nothing more.

When she tilted the urn and the wind carried Vrenn Tideclaw out to the Stormwind Harbor, her strength fled with him. The woman collapsed to her knees, dropping the urn against the grass to shatter; she wrapped her arms around her daughter and they wept together for the rest of the hour.

J’azel danced and chanted with her kin aboard the Vindicaar with the lights off, letting their lightforged bodies illuminate the room instead. Her eyes were closed and her head hung low, with her arms raised into the air in praise and prayer to the Light and all the victorious dead; for they were free of the burdens of life, and one with the Light once more.

“Vaal ash nyesk! Vaal ash nyesk! Rakkan tiros vaal ash nyesk!” Her father and mother could no longer be harmed by the Burning Legion. Her neighbors were at peace with the Light, far and away from pain and fear and sorrow. J’azel grimaced for half a heartbeat as tears began to stream down her face, but she kept her joyful chanting all the same. “Vaal ash nyesk! Vaal ash nyesk!” It was a celebration they practiced every solar year; those fallen to the Dark Titan’s malevolent army would never have to fear them again, of this the Lightforged were certain. It was up to them to avenge their deaths, of course, and the Burning Legion would surely suffer greatly for this treachery. But knowing their families, their friends, their children, their loved ones… were beyond the reach of the fel, gave them the peace of mind they needed to continue this war. “Vaal ash nyesk! Vaal ash nyesk! Rakkan tiros vall ash nyesk!”

Life isn’t supposed to continue forever. The unstoppable march of time puts value every moment you spend amongst the living. Immortality and undeath are two sides of the same accursed coin; one side cannot die, and one side cannot live. There is no greater punishment than to be denied death for eons, for eternity, watching time slip around you as you are forced to watch your world change and move on without you -- did I describe the undying, or the immortal? The answer is the same. Do not fear your impending death. Cherish the moments you have now, and live life to the best of your ability. And when the time comes, know that you will never be alone.

#dwc2021 #day312021

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