̶W̶R̶A̶T̶H̶I̶O̶N̶ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blackscales) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
westwhere2023-02-25 12:16 am
blackscales) wrote in westwhere2023-02-25 12:16 am
Entry tags:
[ ACTIVE ]
WHO: Wrathion & fellow siege survivors
WHEN: Part 2 of the siege
WHERE: Various locations in and on the borders of Alem
WHAT: Investigation, crafting, pacing, thinking. Some closed prompts! You can throw a new one at me, or plan with me here for me to write something custom.
WARNINGS: None to start, beyond some bad mental health situations going on here.
War was something Wrathion understand. He'd never had a childhood, not really. Never really had friends. What youth he had, as he grew far too quickly, had been taken over by his dark purpose. By the threat of Deathwing --
( A shadow of dark wings, a deep voice, metal plates, magma held into shape --)
and all those who would have killed him for being related. For wanting his freedom. The threat of his family, turned to insanity, and then the threat of invasion, of the armies of the Burning Legion, the threat of N'Zoth who sough to turn him as he had his father --
An endless sea of troubles.
Watching Irenia bank and turn back towards Alem, Wrathion feels as if this place is not so far from Azeroth. Endless threats, all of them dire. None, individually, feel quite on the scale of threatening the entire planet but... all of them have the potential to certainly build up if left unchecked.
The sight of her brings dark, brooding fears to the surface. What if he dies here, and is brought back as she was -- a tool to be turned against friends? To be used to spread destruction? Following in his father's footsteps, haunting these mountains as the Aspect of Death.
There are those who believed his corruption inevitable. Perhaps he has been foolish to think he could ever escape such a fate, but still.
One thing at a time.
WHEN: Part 2 of the siege
WHERE: Various locations in and on the borders of Alem
WHAT: Investigation, crafting, pacing, thinking. Some closed prompts! You can throw a new one at me, or plan with me here for me to write something custom.
WARNINGS: None to start, beyond some bad mental health situations going on here.
War was something Wrathion understand. He'd never had a childhood, not really. Never really had friends. What youth he had, as he grew far too quickly, had been taken over by his dark purpose. By the threat of Deathwing --
( A shadow of dark wings, a deep voice, metal plates, magma held into shape --)
and all those who would have killed him for being related. For wanting his freedom. The threat of his family, turned to insanity, and then the threat of invasion, of the armies of the Burning Legion, the threat of N'Zoth who sough to turn him as he had his father --
An endless sea of troubles.
Watching Irenia bank and turn back towards Alem, Wrathion feels as if this place is not so far from Azeroth. Endless threats, all of them dire. None, individually, feel quite on the scale of threatening the entire planet but... all of them have the potential to certainly build up if left unchecked.
The sight of her brings dark, brooding fears to the surface. What if he dies here, and is brought back as she was -- a tool to be turned against friends? To be used to spread destruction? Following in his father's footsteps, haunting these mountains as the Aspect of Death.
There are those who believed his corruption inevitable. Perhaps he has been foolish to think he could ever escape such a fate, but still.
One thing at a time.
no subject
( A simple thing, born of generations of educated hubris: the men of Cloud Recesses do not bow their backs to spirits, do not flee them. They compel, they tame. The monster between them is not the one devoid of flesh.
He waits, briefly transfixed, for Wrathion to complete his search, starting the slow preparations of righting the many wrongs that have burdened his silks with cold water, his limbs with frost. First, a piece of talisman parchment ignited to warm him — insufficient to defend him from the worst of the chills, though his core will anticipate that danger.
Then, more clumsily, he starts to drip his steps after Wrathion, to move and force himself into motion. )
She bore a likeness to the missing woman. ( Whether he would name her Haiva's, Deimar's or her own is another matter. ) She felt... distraught.
( As spirits ever do, denied their closure. But then: ) Resigned.
no subject
Well, I suppose you've confirmed she died. We still don't know how. Drowned, perhaps, if she's here in the water? An accident, or something more sinister?
[ There are, as always, far too many questions. His gaze drops back to the water, thoughtful. ]
I'm assuming she lacked a tail?
[ Wangji, surely, would have mentioned that detail. ]
no subject
( A tail. He frowns, felled by the bluntness of his question — by his own impossible resignation before the debris of his answer.
He looks away. Shudders, once, and after, he will blame the chill. For all that winter does not visit him with a clutch as tight as the rest of their companions. )
It was mere blinks. I did not — ( Search, look down, think to. ) See.
( If he had to choose his priorities, he would not have numbered this as one. )
Apologies.
no subject
Unless it's other people asking him for them, then they need to stop worrying.
Still, Wrathion nods in acceptance. He shivers again and turns back to the bank, begins to pick up his clothing to... redress. Since he got undressed for nothing, as Wangji has mostly achieved this all himself. Wrathion is just moral support, decoration, half-undressed-man putting himself forward for the next Akhuras charity calendar of men performing daily activities. ]
You still have the flowers. The choice now is only if you choose to give them to the prince or not. Keep yourself warm, I can light a fire for you to dry off by if we gather kindling.
[ He pulls a tunic back over his head, shivering again. The fire is also for him to warm up a moment but he is not mentioning that. He is fine. ]