Anduin Wrynn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chosenbylight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
westwhere2022-07-01 02:50 pm
chosenbylight) wrote in westwhere2022-07-01 02:50 pm
[OPEN]
WHO: Anduin Wrynn and YOU?
WHEN: During the Priest's Plot
WHERE: On the deck of the Pariah & below in the sleeping quarters
WHAT: Anduin gets a little carried away and knocks himself out for 2 days...
WARNINGS: None so far!
NOTES: You can encounter him on deck when he first passes out or when he's waking up (someone's gotta get him up off the floor!), just know it'll take him 2 days to wake up again so he won't be very chatty until that time haha
Anduin had understood from the start that firing those arrows at the mass of roiling dark clouds in the sky would take a toll on him. He had done his best to conserve himself, taking small breaks for food and rest, recharging what energy he could with the aid of one of his companions' amulets as the priests had instructed to do.
He had known, logically, that his efforts were only making one small dent in a larger effort. That for that reason there was no need to overtax himself. But with each arrow fired into the sky, with each sucking pull on his spirit, his mana, his energy -- whatever the arrows were stealing from him -- so too grew within him a sense of urgency. A feeling of dread. A fear of that which Anduin could not put into words, but that he knew he could not allow to overtake these boats, filled with people he has grown to care for.
And so he does not heed the warning signs that are there, as the edges of his vision start to blacken and dim. The boat beneath his feet feels unsteady, and Anduin understands that it is not due to any rocking of the ocean below. Still, he reaches for one final arrow. These are not his people, but that does not make them any less worthy of his defense. He will not fail them now. He cannot.
Pulling his bowstring taught, Anduin releases his arrow high in the sky -- before he crumples to the deck like a puppet cut from its strings, the darkness swallowing him whole.
And in the darkness, Anduin dreams, if a dream it can be called, of the ocean. Of deep, murky, cold water. Everything still, so still around him. And silent. Anduin knows that there is more to existence than this darkness, this silence. And he yearns for it, that he might one day be born with a shape, and--
Anduin wakes to a dull throbbing in his temples and an ache in what feels like almost every part of himself. If he had yearned for a body, then a body he had most assuredly received. Groaning softly, he moves to raise a hand to his head, momentarily caught off-guard when he finds his arm restricted by... A blanket?
WHEN: During the Priest's Plot
WHERE: On the deck of the Pariah & below in the sleeping quarters
WHAT: Anduin gets a little carried away and knocks himself out for 2 days...
WARNINGS: None so far!
NOTES: You can encounter him on deck when he first passes out or when he's waking up (someone's gotta get him up off the floor!), just know it'll take him 2 days to wake up again so he won't be very chatty until that time haha
Anduin had understood from the start that firing those arrows at the mass of roiling dark clouds in the sky would take a toll on him. He had done his best to conserve himself, taking small breaks for food and rest, recharging what energy he could with the aid of one of his companions' amulets as the priests had instructed to do.
He had known, logically, that his efforts were only making one small dent in a larger effort. That for that reason there was no need to overtax himself. But with each arrow fired into the sky, with each sucking pull on his spirit, his mana, his energy -- whatever the arrows were stealing from him -- so too grew within him a sense of urgency. A feeling of dread. A fear of that which Anduin could not put into words, but that he knew he could not allow to overtake these boats, filled with people he has grown to care for.
And so he does not heed the warning signs that are there, as the edges of his vision start to blacken and dim. The boat beneath his feet feels unsteady, and Anduin understands that it is not due to any rocking of the ocean below. Still, he reaches for one final arrow. These are not his people, but that does not make them any less worthy of his defense. He will not fail them now. He cannot.
Pulling his bowstring taught, Anduin releases his arrow high in the sky -- before he crumples to the deck like a puppet cut from its strings, the darkness swallowing him whole.
And in the darkness, Anduin dreams, if a dream it can be called, of the ocean. Of deep, murky, cold water. Everything still, so still around him. And silent. Anduin knows that there is more to existence than this darkness, this silence. And he yearns for it, that he might one day be born with a shape, and--
Anduin wakes to a dull throbbing in his temples and an ache in what feels like almost every part of himself. If he had yearned for a body, then a body he had most assuredly received. Groaning softly, he moves to raise a hand to his head, momentarily caught off-guard when he finds his arm restricted by... A blanket?
no subject
"They have not made another attack?"
That is what happened the last time, is it not? The Concord was the name of the ship that fired upon them. Of the Dawn's Reach Trading Company. Begging the question, naturally, what business does a Trading Company have in pursuing and firing upon pirate vessels, of course.
Just what has the Merchant gotten them into the middle of now?
no subject
A moment when they can push the advantage more assuredly, to avoid taking too much damage again. Wrathion sets down his stew, picks up his tea to inspect the way it steeps for a moment.
"This is not your ship."
Just a gentle reminder. Curiosity is of course natural, but Anduin has already run himself dry once and been out for two days. He is not in charge here, the people at large are not waiting for his command. He does not have to leap up and help immediately.
no subject
"No," he agrees, "it is not. This is not my ship. These are not my people. This is not Stormwind. I am not their king. So you keep having to remind me..."
Taking in a deep breath, Anduin lets it out slowly, squeezing his eyes shut before tipping his head back to regard the boards of the ceiling above.
"You know," Anduin says at last, "you really are a better advisor than I initially gave you credit."
no subject
"Obviously, my advice is superior to that of your other advisors. Black dragons are intelligent, wise creatures and master tacticians."
He fusses with his tea, taking a small sip to see if it is strong enough then setting it aside. Wrathion hesitates, then slowly begins to slide an arm around Anduin. For... support? Comfort? He's not sure, but hopefully it... helps. Especially since he's not certain how well the stew is going over, currently.
no subject
"My other advisors," he replies, wryly, "might have differing opinions with you on that matter. Although you are welcome to take it up with them directly, if you like." He shifts slightly, turning his head on Wrathion's shoulder so that he can flick a smile up at him.
"I would say myself," Anduin continues, after a moment's consideration, "that you do have some advantage over them. With perhaps the exception of Spymaster Shaw, I think that. They will never really see me beyond the expectations of the man they wish me to be. You..."
He studies Wrathion -- which is no small feat considering how very close they are.
"You have always understood exactly who I am," Anduin says, at last.
no subject
So he has no expectations of change here. Anduin Wrynn is already the person that Wrathion cares about most, and is not expecting a transformation into -- whatever it is Genn Greymane wants him to be. Some kind of war hero, most likely, like Varian Wrynn before him. A soldier, a fighter rather than a healer. Wrathion shifts to tighten his arm around Anduin, leaning his face against the top of his head.
"Luckily for you," he murmurs, "your other advisors are not here for me to address."
Otherwise he might indeed take it up with them directly.
no subject
Already the man I wish you to be.
Anduin turns his face into Wrathion's shoulder, careful of the bowl of stew he has still balanced carefully in his lap.
"So long as they are not, I am afraid the task of keeping me in line falls squarely on your shoulders."
no subject
He lets his eyes slip closed, letting himself settle more comfortably as Anduin turns his face into his shoulder.
"Although," he adds softly, "it would help me a great deal if you could allow me some leeway in this. Perhaps, some small concession as I am your lone advisor..."
Perhaps, Anduin could make some attempt to not give Wrathion a panic attack in the future. That would be pleasant.
no subject
Anduin nuzzles Wrathion's shoulder gently, his chest tightening slightly as he does.
"I'm sorry," he says again, his voice equally soft as Wrathion's own. "I give you my word." He lifts his head to glance up at Wrathion. "As my lone advisor. I will do my best to try and behave for you. This place is difficult enough as it is, without adding anything further into the mix."
no subject
Anduin shouldn't promise more than he could give, and he certainly isn't someone to behave all the time in the manner this tone suggests. Still, Wrathion smiles to himself and gives Anduin another reassuring squeeze.
"Now, perhaps a little more of this stew. Questionable as it may be, it will help you restore your energy."
No doubt the priest will be frustrated by sitting around too much, so gaining his energy back should be a priority. Otherwise he risks pushing himself and tiring out.
no subject
He has pursued friendship with Wrathion, after all. A known black dragon. Even after what was done to him by the black dragon Onyxia. Even after what happened later in their friendship as well.
"I suppose I cannot argue with that logic," Anduin agrees, raising the stew to his lips and taking another sip. "You have spent enough time watching over me as it is. We do not need any setbacks."