westwhere | O Thanagor...

Entry tags:

O Thanagor...

WHO: Anduin & companions
WHEN: Siege pt 2
WHERE: Various sections of Alem
WHAT: Collecting flowers, investigating bodies and/or staircases, helping the Caravan to escape! Closed prompts below although if you'd like to be in on any of this just hit me up here and we can get something together!
WARNINGS: none so far, will edit as needed

Anduin has always been an empathetic person. It is why he has such a difficult time of keeping himself removed from the problems they have faced, in the places they are brought, in search of these beacons. In search of home.

Wrathion has had to remind him in almost every location -- this is not Stormwind. These are not his people. But it does not seem to matter. Not to his head, nor to his heart. He sees the suffering of the families in the Wards, and it is hard to remind himself that these are not his people as he struggles to do everything within his (albeit limited) powers to assist them -- provide them with food and supplies as well as whatever healing they might need. When he is called onto the Towers, it's hard to remind himself that these are not his men, not as his command, as he struggles to keep them in one piece, to keep them alive.

He is also struggling with the secrets that are being kept within the walls of this fortress. Some intentionally, some not. He understands that the King has apprehensions. He is under quite a lot of pressure, from all sides. Anduin has not been in precisely this position before, but he has been in quite a similar one. He understands, perhaps better than anybody.

That does not mean he likes it any better.

And then there is the matter of his charge, Prince Haiva, whose condition seems to shift with the winds. At least if he can manage to help him, then perhaps not all hope is lost...

((ooc: also, if you're looking for theme music for this arc, look no further))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Anduin had examined Prince Haiva upon the sudden appearance of this new and mysterious symptom. He had expected the feeling of blades the prince had described to be something of the nerves perhaps, and thus entirely taken aback when there did appear to be actual cuts on the bottoms of his feet. He could have sworn he had almost felt something sharp protruding from the prince's ankle, there and gone again from the light press of his fingertip.

He supposes it is comforting to hear that at least there has been something like this which has happened before, even if in legend. He's willing to try anything at this point, if at least to give the prince a modicum of relief. Of course the cure would stem from a rare flower which grows only deep within the frozen forests surrounding the fortress. It almost feels as though he is back in Azeroth again.

Anduin tightens his jacket around himself, glancing aside to study Wrathion as he crunches along beside him. Despite the pair of them sharing living quarters (if it could really be called as much), with his time dedicated to healing in the Ward -- and the Towers, and with the Prince... -- and Wrathion's own assignment and investigations, they have had little time together their whole stay in Alem.

"I would say that it is good to get out of that mountain, and yet." He gestures to the frozen forest around them. It is not a welcoming place.

"The climate could be more appealing."

Wrathion looks up into the sky thoughtfully, studying it.

"The flower you seek is said to grow along the river, I believe. I think it should be this way."

His eyes drop down then around to Anduin, brow furrowing in thought. He gives a brief nod, begins to move again slowly. Frozen leaves and branches snap under his boots, seeming loud in the stillness of the forest.

"I've been thinking about your patient." The prince, that is. Blond, pale, weak, peace-loving, easy to understimate. "The more I hear, the more I believe he is deceiving us."

Anduin frowns slightly, in response to Wrathion's words. He does not like to think of it, that Haiva might be withholding information from them, when Anduin has only been trying to help him, all this time. And yet.

"I think... That you are right," he says at last.

He glances aside at his companion. "He was weary of our healing, before, but resigned to it. With these new symptoms... He will not even let us near the cuts on his feet. We have only managed chance glimpses, while he thinks we are not watching, and even then..."

Anduin shakes his head. "Whatever is ailing the prince, this is no illness."

"On that, we are in agreement."

He takes a few more steps, slow, careful.

"Are you familiar with the tale of Ery and Halia?"

A tale of hatred, of storms, of love, and of... transformation. The latter part, here, being the most relevant. A tidesage changing into a mermaid, swimming in the sea with her beloved.

"Why the mermaids left Boralus?" Anduin says, reciting the name of the tale as he remembers it being told to him growing up. He glances aside at Wrathion, his brows furrowing slightly as he considers why Wrathion might be bringing this up.

"You think there may be a connection."

There's no question in the words. Anduin is starting to see it himself. Haiva's requesting of the one with the feet. As opposed to perhaps, the one without. These scales that some of the travelers have been collecting. And now with these new symptoms Haiva has developed. Something is sincerely off.

"Creatures native to water, transformation."

A connection, yes. He trudges on for a moment, scanning the forest in silence and allowing Anduin to dwell on the thought. On the idea of Haiva and his symptoms, his fixation with feet, on how it all might add.

"My uncertainty is... which way Haiva's transformation began. If he is slowly changing into something, or if he has always been inhuman but visage is failing."

If he was made to appear human, and that is perhaps a source of his sickness. Being something not made to live naturally on land.

"He... was having problems with his breathing," Anduin considers. "And then there is the matter of whatever is being heard in the Wards. The-- singing."

He glances aside to Wrathion. He has told him of his own experience with the trance he had fallen in. At first uncertain whether he was just so fatigued that he was losing time before he realized he had indeed fallen under the spell of... Something.

"Haiva spends enough time down there, there is a chance perhaps the two are related as well."

"Mmmm."

None of it is impossible. It feels as if they have all the pieces, here. They just need to work out how to arrange them, exactly what picture it is they are forming. He pauses in his steps a moment, tilts his head, then adjusts course and begins moving between the trees again.

"This way, I can hear water."

The flower they are searching for, after all, is said to be found in the river. How, exactly, a flower will help with whatever is happening to Haiva Wrathion cannot be sure... but, perhaps once they obtain some they can tell.

Anduin steps forward after Wrathion, in the direction of what is now clearly at least partially running water. The snow and frozen leaves of the forest floor crunching underfoot as he walks.

Anduin winces slightly.

"Did the people of Alem share how large this river is?" Anduin asks. Not that they won't be seeing it in another moment or so, but it pays to be prepared. The fact that it is running is a good sign. It has not frozen over completely, the current is strong enough to keep it from doing so. But... Well, a river could mean any number of things, really.

"They did not," Wrathion admits, glancing back towards Anduin. "Only that the rare flower was found in it. I'm not certain if they mean submerged entirely, if it floats like a lily, or if grows along the banks."

He'd rather it grew along the banks, but if they have to brave the cold water so be it. He continues forward, careful, until the ground begins to have a slight incline downward. The very faint sound of water begins to become more audible, even to human ears, and then the banks of the partially iced-over river become visible. A distant howl has Wrathion turn and glance back into the forest, then narrow his eyes thoughtfully.

"I'd suggest we don't linger here longer than necessary."

Not that Wrathion himself had wanted to stay in a freezing woodland, but just to be sure they're on the same page.

Anduin turns to glance back in the direction that Wrathion has turned. The howl is... Not unexpected, but certainly represents a danger in this forest, should they be caught off-guard.

He turns back toward the river they are approaching, the ground now clearly approaching more of an icy riverbank than a forest floor beneath their boots. He casts a wary glance around them, shaking his head as he does.

"It is too cold for anything like a flower to grow, this time of year," he says. "From what I can recall, their advice was to look for the maiden's veil in the river." He steps forward cautiously towards the edge of the bank, moving to peer into the water's icy depths.

"Well we're searching for a flower, so I'd hope its not entirely too cold."

Otherwise they're wasting their time. Wrathion moves closer to the edge of the river, crouches down and peers into the depths.

"I suppose one of us is heading in then."

He pushes to his feet with a sigh, frowning along the length of the waterway.

"I'll dry off faster." A begrudging admission. Wrathion doesn't like the idea of being cold and wet, but it seems the easiest way. He unties the sash on his coat, begins unfastening the buttons. "Keep an eye out for anything approaching."

Presumably the water is at least above freezing, for it not to have frozen over completely. It is running, after all. Anduin turns from where he is frowning into its depths, attempting to determine whether he sees anything, before turning to Wrathion himself, a frown worrying its way in between his brows.

He -- supposes that he can't argue with his point. He will dry off faster. And if he runs into trouble, then Anduin has the benefit of being able to pull him out, and quickly. Even so, he doesn't entirely enjoy the prospect of standing back on the shore while Wrathion risks himself, jumping in. He supposes Wrathion dislikes the prospect of jumping in equally, so it evens out.

"...alright, fine, but. Be careful," he says, at last. For all they know, there might be a native monster of the river, guarding the flowers they are seeking, after all. He reaches out a hand for Wrathion's coat as he unfastens it. "Here," he says. "If I had known one of us would be jumping in, I might have thought to bring a blanket. At least I can keep that warm and dry for you."

He hands off his coat easily, letting Anduin take it, then unfastens his sword belt and sets that to one side. Next, he loosens off his shirt and pulls it over his head, hands that off and begins unfastening his boots.

"Better you potentially healing me than the other way around. I'd be warding off a line of people come to fight me over your proper care."

Wrathion sighs and sets aside his boots, begins to unbutton and pull off his trousers. The prospect of the cold water is becoming less appealing by the minute. Still, he hands Anduin he steps out of the garment and hands it off, toes off his socks and stuffs them into his boots then carefully steps to the waters edge. The cold bank against his feet makes him growl in discontent, but he steels himself and begins to carefully wade down into the water.

"They couldn't have required a cave plant of some sort?"

You know, anything that didn't require wading into cold water.

"Or a --"

Wrathion stops, staring at a shadow moving in the depths, one hand raising warily as if ready to cast.

Anduin gathers Wrathion's clothes together as he hands them over, flashing him a wry smile in response to the commentary he provides as he undresses. Raising an eyebrow at the idea that anybody should fight over his care here, if he's being honest, but deciding it's better not to comment on that.

He can't help but smile wider as he watches Wrathion start to wade out, as the griping begins. He doesn't really blame him. It's cold enough standing there with his coat and gloves on. He would trade places with Wrathion if necessary. But Wrathion had offered, and it does make the most sense.

He opens his mouth to comment that they are potentially dealing with some aquatic malady here -- when Wrathion's stance changes. Anduin tenses himself, shifting the bundle of clothes in his hands to free up a hand in case he needs to cast himself.

"What? What is it?"

"I'm not alone in this water."

Which... isn't necessarily dangerous, but it is immediately noticeable to Wrathion now he barely has any clothes on. He frowns, trying to see past the ripples, then wades slowly deeper. The water quickly reaches up to his chest, then his shoulders. He winces in distaste with every step, then falters as it suddenly drops off deep -- glances over at Anduin to give him a nod of reassurance. Then he drops under the water, dark hair flowing out as he squints around for flowers. Titans, flowers. Why couldn't they pay someone else to come out here and pick flowers in the cold river?

Golden eyes meet his suddenly in the depths of the water and he stays still, watching the woman gesture to him.

... What? She -- what? Wants them to... stop? Go away?

Not alone.

Anduin hesitates, before moving to set the bundle of clothing aside, just in case he might need to act, and quickly. Turning back to the water, he watches as Wrathion wades further in, startling as he suddenly drops deeper into the water, though his tension eases as Wrathion turns to reassure him he's alright.

It's difficult, to watch him disappear under the water completely after that. Not able to see through its murky depths entirely, he supposes he will have to watch for... What? Bubbles, signs of distress. A struggle. He'll give Wrathion time, the benefit of the doubt, but -- not too much. Not when he's already stated there's something else down there with him, in the icy depths.

Wrathion surfaces suddenly, dark curls slicked flat, and glances around warily before rubbing trails of dark water from his face.

"Well, I think I can see one of your flowers -- but I'm not certain my new friend thinks its a good idea we take them."

He squints up at Anduin, shivering as the air hits his now cold skin.

"A dark-haired woman," he adds, and lofts an eyebrow -- flexing his fingers to try and keep them from seizing up.

Anduin lets out a breath of relief as Wrathion surfaces, eyes scanning the water around him for any sign of whatever new friend it is Wrathion seems to have gained, before glancing back to the dragon himself.

A dark-haired woman.

Anduin's brow furrows, before he raises an eyebrow at Wrathion in return.

"Our new friend, or Haiva's old," he muses. "I don't suppose you happened to get a good look at her feet."

"Enough to see she had some. I couldn't see any scales, but her eyes were an unusual shade of gold."

He shivers again, shaking wet droplets off his hair and gently pushing aside shards of ice that float towards him.

"Happy for you to try and negotiate with her if you see her, but I think I'll attempt to retrieve this plant so I can begin drying off."

She seems to have vanished into the water again, but Wrathion isn't keen to swim after her right now.

Anduin frowns slightly as he watches Wrathion begin to shiver, before shaking his head.

"Please," he says, motioning him on. "Be careful. I'll keep watch from here, but we can't be certain how far she will go to try and stop you."

He casts a wary glance around the water, looking for the woman himself, but he cannot see her himself. The river is too murky to see clearly through from this angle, and he feels it's best he keep his distance. They don't both need to wind up in that water, somehow.

He nods once, frowning and then dropping himself under the water again. The mysterious figure of the woman materialises out of the shadows every so often, trying to deter him, but little more than that. He resurfaces a few times to take a breath, then finally comes up and begins to move towards the bank. In his hands is a delicate looking flower, pale and decidedly wet.

"Take this, please," he manages, shivering more aggressively now. He's not about to have gone through all that only to lose the plant they went looking for.

"Here."

Anduin hurries forward to accept the small flower from Wrathion. It is wet, yes. And fragile. He does not want to handle it too much now that it is free from its watery home, for fear of damaging the flower. Pulling a small box out of his coat, Anduin wraps the maiden's veil in a handkerchief and stows it inside, before tucking the box itself back into the pocket of his jacket.

Once he has made certain the flower is secure, he turns back to Wrathion. Offering him a hand to help himself the rest of the way out of the water and onto the bank, he frowns at the quite aggressive shivering that seem to have taken him over.

"Are you alright...?" he asks, concern written over his features and in his pale blue eyes.

"I'll warm up in a moment."

He flexes his fingers a few times, trying to keep them moving, and uses the side of his hand to brush water off his skin distractedly.

"Do you think one will be enough?"

The begrudging question of someone who doesn't particularly want to go back into the water again, but who will if they have to. Better than going all the way back to the keep, having warmed up, and having to trek back out again.

Anduin bites his lip at the question, remembering how small and delicate the flower had been in his hand.

"I suppose it depends on the success of the rest of our companions," he replies, honestly. "From what I understand, the symptoms are to be soothed by a tea made from the maiden's veil. I do not know how much of a tea can be made from just one flower."

He frowns harder, moving to rub a hand along Wrathion's arm himself, gathering some of the moisture in the fabric of his glove.

"But I am not asking you to torture yourself for this. The others may have found some as well." His expression softens slightly. "I do wish to solve this for the prince. But not at the risk of you."

Wrathion sighs at the I don't know how much of a tea can be made from one flower answer, ready to wade back in and see if he can spot another, but then Anduin is rubbing a gloved hand along his arm.

'Not at the risk of you' -- isn't that a familiar sentiment? He wonders if Anduin is self-aware of that, of being on the opposite side of this again now.

"I doubt it would kill me," says, glancing back at the river with a shiver, "but I cannot call it a pleasant experience."

The drop to his body temperature is far from enjoyable, given how high it normally is.

He doubts that it would kill him. Anduin makes a face, at that.

“Wrathion, any normal person would get hypothermia if they spend any extended amount of time in water like that, and that’s without a body temperature like yours.”

Anduin’s eyes widen slightly as realization dawns. Wrathion’s body temperature is higher than average — much higher. With his blood so hot it almost burnt Anduin’s skin to the touch, to have been submerged in near-freezing water…

“You…” He moves to brace both hands on Wrathion’s shoulders, taking in the measure of him, as if he might be able to stare the answers out of him. Finally, he shakes his head and unfastens his scarf, reaching forward and using an end to start rubbing Wrathion dry with it. “Come here.”

Wrathion lets out a low grumble of discontent at the fussing, but he complies -- allows Anduin to begin rubbing more moisture from his skin. It runs out of his hair slowly, damp tracks falling in lines down his skin as he shivers.

"I did say it was unpleasant," he protests. It wasn't as if he was trying to claim it was an enjoyable experience! Quite the reverse! He just said he doubted it would kill him. He sniffs unhappily, reaching out one hand to brace on Anduin's shoulders as the man aggressively rubs warmth into his skin.

Anduin ignores Wrathion's sounds of protest, shifting his scarf in his hands to continue the motion of his drying, doing his best to rub the warmth back into Wrathion's skin as he moves.

"Unpleasant," Anduin says, "I'm sure does not even cover the half of it. That river is half frozen over, and the air out here is hardly any better."

He shakes his head again, turning his eyes up to meet Wrathion's before his expression softens, the heat of his concern gentling into something warmer.

"...thank you," he says, at last.

Wrathion nods easily, lifting the hand resting on Anduin's shoulder to tease back a strand of blond hair from his face. His fingertips are not as warm as they should be.

"I hope it helps your patient."

He shivers again. All the hairs on his body are standing up, trying desperately to trap warmth from the cold air.

"However if he asks to see your feet, please say no."

Enough of the feet situation.

Anduin lets out the breath of a laugh, shifting his scarf to mop up the worst of the dampness on Wrathion's chest. He can see the way Wrathion's skin is covered in goosebumps, his hair standing up even on his chest. He's heard him complain about the cold before, but he doesn't think he's ever seen him shivering. Not like this.

"Duly noted," he replies. "I'm content with them just as they are, if it's all the same to anybody else. Here--"

He throws his scarf around Wrathion's shoulders so that it can catch the dripping of his hair, before tugging off his gloves and catching one of his hands between his own. The fact that his fingers actually feel cold is startling.

He blinks as the scarf is draped around his shoulders, then glances about and hesitates.

"... If you don't mind, I think it may help if I dry off... more completely, so I can redress."

He's still wearing the wet shorts he went swimming in, after all. Wrathion retrieves one cold hand, pools a flame into it. This is a touch direct, but its the best he can do now, try and dry out his own clothing over a flame. It wouldn't have been his first choice, but it will work -- which is all that matters in a pinch.

"Ah, yes of course," Anduin says, flushing slightly as he realizes that there is perhaps a better way of going about this. "Whatever you need." Reluctantly, he allows Wrathion his second hand as well, in case that too is necessary.

In his defense, he had been trying to help him dry off so that he could get dressed again. He'd figured it would be better if he didn't get his clothes wet, otherwise the cold might be even more miserable. But he had not considered Wrathion's own abilities in his approach.

"Of course," Wrathion says, and keeps the scarf about his shoulders. It is warm and dry, after all.

He then proceeds to undress the rest of the way.

Luckily, the forest is quiet enough that Wrathion can wring out his under and heat it back to some semblance of dryness with a modicum of privacy. Some of the rest of the dampness on his skin begins to evaporate away slowly, but he is still shivering noticeably even once he pulls the shorts back on and begins digging back into the pile of clothing.

Anduin watches as he pulls the damp clothing off, understanding that he is probably seeking to dry it but being firstly very conscious that they are in the middle of the forest and this is putting Wrathion in a precariously vulnerable situation, and secondly... How much colder this will make him before he finally gets the chance to warm up.

Doing his best not to hover, he casts around warily for any sign of the undead lord's creatures, or their fellow travelers, or even more of the siren perhaps. The forest remains silent and cold around them, however. A welcome sign.

He turns back to Wrathion as he begins to dig around in the clothing, wishing he had a spell that might help. He's pretty sure Wrathion's not injured, or even frostbitten just yet, and the Light isn't exactly designed with warmth as the primary goal.

"Here," he says, gently, "let me?" He bends to lend his own assistance, unwrapping Wrathion's jacket from the bundle and unfolding his shirt from the mix. He can do this at least. Re-dressing on his own might be challenging if Wrathion's fingers are cold enough to have lost sensation. That is, assuming he'll let him assist in such a way. He is very proud, even with only Anduin as a witness to such a weakness or a need.

Anduin has fought for aid to the people of the Wards, bartered for supplies, healed their wounds, prayed for their lost. It only stands to reason that when Alem prepares the next sweep of their evacuation, he chooses to see this group of them safely through.

He is a healer of course, and he understands that he cannot be spared from the Tower for too long. But he feels it is something of a duty to these people -- even if they are not his own. There are so few as it is that can be spared for the mission. Healing is not all he is capable of. Let him defend their caravan, as they escape the mountain.

Let them at least manage this one thing.

He had been seeing to the stragglers, those who had not been able to stay with the group. Perhaps he might have known better, if only his heart was more guarded against such attack. The woman had claimed she was a member of the previous caravan, and he had taken her for her word.

Slowly, he finds himself compelled away from the traveling group and toward a seat by a frigid bonfire. He glances aside at his companion, not entirely understanding why she has brought him here, until he catches -- just there. A flicker of something in the corner of his eye, in the flames.

"...Father?"

Xie Lian noticed Anduin leaving the caravan and at first he didn't think much of it. maybe the other man was just scouting ahead. But then, he doesn't come back, even when the caravan stops for a rest, and he gets worried.

Tracking in the snow is not too hard but once he notices the other campfire - strange in the middle of nowhere - Xie Lian stops and observes from behind a tree.

His all-white robes somehow allow him to mostly blend in with the scenery and approach rather more easily than he expected but...

He tries to tap Anduin in the shoulder.

"Excuse me..."

Anduin registers that there is someone there at his side, but his attention is focused elsewhere. If he had been in his right might, he might have registered that it makes absolutely no sense -- that seeing his father in the flames does not mean he is there with him, even. But the fact that he has seen is face there, when he has been dead for several years now...

A band tightens around Anduin's heart and he shakes his head in response to Xie Lian's interruption.

"He is here," he says, nonsensically.

"Uhm... who? Who is here?"

There's 'people' around of course, if you call undead 'people' and Xie Lian usually does. But he doesn't see anyone else he knows. If the undead start to look in his direction too much, he pretends to look towards the fire with a slightly dazed look for a few seconds and for now, the charade seems to work.

"We shouldn't stay here. Let's go back to the caravan."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

O Thanagor...

WRATHION

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

XIE LIAN

no subject

no subject

no subject