[ It's difficult to say what hour of the day it is, with no sun in the sky to mark the passage of time. Hardly the most unusual thing about this circumstance, or the most troubling, but it's what sticks out to him most as he makes his way slowly and quietly through the maze of green.
Sometimes, it feels like he's been wandering these paths for days.
Still, patience maintains. He doesn't rush ahead, pausing at intersections to gaze beyond before taking those first steps down a new path. As he goes, he pauses to kneel, pulling a small knife from his belt and etching a small arrow into the earth. Perhaps if he winds up circling back on himself, he'll be able to find these small markers along the way and right himself.
But the paths wind on, as his frustration and confusion rise, so does a thick, humid mist, as soupy and bewildering as his state of mind. One hand lifts to brush his bangs from his face, squinting against the sudden creeping fog. Seeing ahead becomes more difficult, and as he encounters more of those odd, crumbling statues--
There. For a moment he could have sworn he'd seen his father's face, in that one, and his heart goes still. But before he has the chance to dwell on it, there's the noise of rapidly shifting foliage, the swift zzzzzzzp! that almost sounds like ropes being drawn against one another, and sounds of a struggle up ahead.
Drawing Shalamayne from his back, the young king forgets the growing ache in his legs, and darts forward in search of the source of the noises. If someone needs help, then these trinkets they're supposedly looking for can wait just a little longer. ]
iii. THE GROUNDS
[ There is something heartbreaking about the number of ghostly figures that haunt these halls. Though he's encountered undead more than a few times in his life -- generally in opposition, but not always -- there is something decidedly odd about the presences he finds here. Alive and dead at once, hovering in this strange in-between that the Light does not touch.
He feels for them, and if there were a way to free them from this place? He would. No one deserves this fate, not to his mind. But the most he can do for now is leave them to their wanderings and continue his search.
At least one of the apparitions does seem aware enough to point him in a general direction, and through the halls Anduin finds himself in an ornate and pristine bathing room. Glancing around to see if there are signs that anyone has already checked this area, he sees what he thinks might be a loose tile near the base of the tub.
It's hard to kneel in his armor, but he manages, gloved fingers running over the uneven surface before movement catches his eye--
A ghostly woman's face, peering back at him out of the tub, as if she'd been there the whole time and he'd just intruded upon her.
With a startled noise he jerks back, nearly falling to the floor and only just catching himself. ]
anduin wrynn | warcraft | tourist
[ It's difficult to say what hour of the day it is, with no sun in the sky to mark the passage of time. Hardly the most unusual thing about this circumstance, or the most troubling, but it's what sticks out to him most as he makes his way slowly and quietly through the maze of green.
Sometimes, it feels like he's been wandering these paths for days.
Still, patience maintains. He doesn't rush ahead, pausing at intersections to gaze beyond before taking those first steps down a new path. As he goes, he pauses to kneel, pulling a small knife from his belt and etching a small arrow into the earth. Perhaps if he winds up circling back on himself, he'll be able to find these small markers along the way and right himself.
But the paths wind on, as his frustration and confusion rise, so does a thick, humid mist, as soupy and bewildering as his state of mind. One hand lifts to brush his bangs from his face, squinting against the sudden creeping fog. Seeing ahead becomes more difficult, and as he encounters more of those odd, crumbling statues--
There. For a moment he could have sworn he'd seen his father's face, in that one, and his heart goes still. But before he has the chance to dwell on it, there's the noise of rapidly shifting foliage, the swift zzzzzzzp! that almost sounds like ropes being drawn against one another, and sounds of a struggle up ahead.
Drawing Shalamayne from his back, the young king forgets the growing ache in his legs, and darts forward in search of the source of the noises. If someone needs help, then these trinkets they're supposedly looking for can wait just a little longer. ]
iii. THE GROUNDS
[ There is something heartbreaking about the number of ghostly figures that haunt these halls. Though he's encountered undead more than a few times in his life -- generally in opposition, but not always -- there is something decidedly odd about the presences he finds here. Alive and dead at once, hovering in this strange in-between that the Light does not touch.
He feels for them, and if there were a way to free them from this place? He would. No one deserves this fate, not to his mind. But the most he can do for now is leave them to their wanderings and continue his search.
At least one of the apparitions does seem aware enough to point him in a general direction, and through the halls Anduin finds himself in an ornate and pristine bathing room. Glancing around to see if there are signs that anyone has already checked this area, he sees what he thinks might be a loose tile near the base of the tub.
It's hard to kneel in his armor, but he manages, gloved fingers running over the uneven surface before movement catches his eye--
A ghostly woman's face, peering back at him out of the tub, as if she'd been there the whole time and he'd just intruded upon her.
With a startled noise he jerks back, nearly falling to the floor and only just catching himself. ]
By the Light--