alastar-wyatt

[alastar-wyatt]

“I appreciate it, Lora, I really do.”

“Nonsense, Doc, we owe you, but…I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that.”

For a unit praised for their ruthless efficiency in stealth operations, their footfalls resounded loudly in Selise's ears as they escorted her into the command center. She could hear Nick's voice in her head, why would she willingly get wrapped up in the boy's problems again?

He'd be furious when he found out.

She followed their instructions obediently, being led into the director’s office where he was already leaned back in the chair behind his ornate desk. He started speaking just as her escorts stepped out and closed the door behind them.

“My wife tells me you want to collect on our debt.”

For once, Selise was pleased to hear her services garner such consideration. “I do, but she seems to think my request won’t be possible?”

Devin leaned forward and glanced down as he flipped over a few papers. “This has to do with the increase in unsavory business at the brawl pub?”

Selise nodded. “I have a family member that's gotten swept up in it and no way to safely get them out.” After a moment's pause, she added. “It's also been negatively impacting my place of business.”

The director sighed and motioned towards a chair in front of his desk. “We’re aware of the situation,” he started and watched as the doctor lowered herself into a seat. “How exactly is your family member involved with this group?”

Selise folded her hands in her lap. “I don't know the extent of it, only that I'm afraid they might not make it out.”

Devin drew in a breath. “I know our arrangement, but this operation is large and I can't compromise it.”

She felt the finality of his statement, but pushed forward regardless. “Would their information not be useful?”

Devin narrowed his gaze on Selise. “You're well aware of where you're sitting. I have an entire building of agents if I want information.”

Selise crossed her legs as her lips drew into a thin line. “Yet you don't have enough information to close your operation.”

“Careful.” Devin rumbled, then eyed her with something akin to resentment. “What's their name?”

A silence followed, longer than Selise meant it to as she tried to guess what Alastar might be doing. That was the easy part. It was the ‘why’ that she didn't understand. She let out a breath. “A few conditions first.”

Devin swiveled his chair straight, his attention fully on her now. While his look had become less sharp, the gesture of his hand for her to continue was impatient.

“This only works if you agree to give them immunity. I’ll tell you their name, you get them out. You get your information and then they leave with me. No charges or arrests. It's not worth it to me if their freedom is compromised by your organization.”

Devin let out a low whistle. “Did you think this through, Doc?” He followed up with a hint of amusement. “That’s a big ask. Some might even say you're withholding information from SI7 in their own building.”

“A debt, I believe those were your words,” she stated matter-of-factly. “This is merely a business transaction.”

From what Selise knew of Devin, he seemed rather straight laced for a spy master, at least compared to the others in his field that she knew. In fact, she had enjoyed the increased income as well as being able to help agents from a division that seemed to be doing the right things. Putting their business relationship in jeopardy had not been in her plans.

“Their name.” He finally repeated, causing Selise's breath to catch for a moment. “And you have my word they will walk.”

Her eyes scanned the man's face for any hint of deception, even if it was a futile effort, before she responded. “Alastar.”

Devin sighed and relaxed in his chair as he pulled out his communicator. “Tom.” While they waited for an answer, his dark eyes flickered back to Selise. “I don't want any more complaints about after hours calls either,” he grumbled.

She smiled nervously as she heard Nick’s sharp reply in her head, but nodded.

“What's up boss?” The sound through the comm was clearer than any Selise had heard in the past.

“Is there a kid there? Alastar?”

“I mean…I wouldn't call him a kid compared to some of the others. Why?” Tom sounded skeptical.

The implication of Tom's statement made Selise look at Devin sharply. He ignored her. “Would he be a useful canary?”

There was a long pause from Tom. “From what I've seen, yes. Been talking to higher ups. Heard he had private meetings with the big guy.”

Devin shot Selise an equally sharp look. “Just swept up in it, huh?” He sighed and pressed the button on the communicator again. “Okay. We're going to pull him out discreetly. Let me know if he has a tail, otherwise stand by.”

“Roger.”

The office fell silent again until Selise and Devin's gaze met across the desk. “I can control my men, but I do not have authority over the entire organization. I suggest you make contingency plans if my betters catch wind of this.”

Selise ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth. She had pushed him far enough for one day. A small nod came in response. “If you don't want to make a scene, it would be best to give me details. He's a bit skittish.”

“We'll be in touch,” he leaned back in his chair and motioned towards the door. “My people will see you out.”

Selise inclined her head and then got to her feet. “Always a pleasure, Director.” When she opened the door, her same escorts fell into step with her until she left the command center grounds.

@alastar-wyatt @laivindur

[alastar-wyatt]

"Have you ever found yourself admitting something that shocked you?"

Alastar found the question amusing, and it showed on his face as he thought on it. It was like that one game where they spin the bottle and ask stupid question, but this time, it was with a stranger. His smile was easy as he said, "Admitted to myself, yes, admitting to stranger or friends or close relatives." He shook his head before pulling his lips in with a satisfied nod at the end confirming his remark to himself.

[alastar-wyatt]

When a Character Feels Like They’re Losing Control

(Emotionally. Mentally. Internally. Completely.)

There’s a quiet kind of horror that comes with realizing you’re not okay and can’t fix it. When a character starts unraveling, it doesn’t always look like screaming or smashing things. Sometimes it’s the slow, subtle slipping of the reins...

╰ They overcompensate. Suddenly everything needs to be spotless, perfect, hyper-organized. Their planner is full, their schedule is packed, their smile is pinned on too tight. It’s not control, it’s panic dressed up in structure.

╰ They talk faster, louder or stop talking at all. They dominate conversations so they don’t have to think. Or they fall silent because words feel too risky. Either way, their voice is no longer safe territory.

╰ They get weird about small decisions. Choosing a sandwich becomes a full-body crisis. What should be easy isn’t, because nothing feels certain. It’s not about the sandwich. It’s about everything spinning too fast.

╰ They feel detached. Like they’re watching their life from a distance. They float above the room, disconnected from themselves, and laugh at things they don’t really find funny.

╰ They lash out in ways that don’t fit the moment. It’s never really about what triggered them. They explode over the dishes, or cry because someone asked if they’re okay. Their emotions are no longer matching the moment.

╰ They start avoiding mirrors. They don’t want to look at themselves, because they know. They know something’s off. They know their smile doesn’t reach their eyes. And they can’t face that truth yet.

╰ They apologize too much or not at all. They either spiral into guilt, overexplaining everything. Or they shut off and go stone-cold, too afraid that acknowledging the damage will make it real.

╰ They miss things. Conversations. Appointments. Easy tasks. Their brain is overwhelmed, trying to hold it together, and things slip through the cracks. And when they realize it, they panic more.

╰ They crave control but trust no one. They don’t delegate, don’t ask for help, because what if that help makes it worse? Trusting someone means letting go, and that’s the scariest thing of all right now.

╰ They feel like a passenger in their own life. There’s a version of them who used to be present. Who felt joy. Who wasn’t this… numb, terrified shell. And they don’t know where that person went, or how to bring them back.

[alastar-wyatt]

Finish the sentence in my inbox...

"I want you to...”

"I wish you would..."

“Why didn’t you tell me...”

“I wanted to tell you...”

“Have you ever...”

IC ONLY PLEASE! ANON IS ON! Feel free to send things even if we have never interacted before!

Practice good question/reblog karma! Ask a question to whomever you reblog this from! Get asked a question, return a question!

[alastar-wyatt]

[alastar-wyatt]

Update for Blog 2025

As I've seen a few new followers popping in as I've become more active, slowly, on tumblr. I'd like to remark that I am not wholly active on tumblr as I use to be. However, I still find tumblr to be the best place to post private stories I write with friends on discord. So, if you're interested in reading more stories, I will list the blogs that I am posting on random occasions. Stories that are too long for discord. They are snippets, but being my favorite past time is story writing, sharing such art does in fact give me some sense of pleasure if you like them or not.

So below is the list of these blogs with links:

Alastar-wyatt, as is this blog, is about a young swordsman with a tragic past, who is too good-nature for the work he does.

@synric-silversong is my half-elf hunter who is also too good-nature but seems to be in the right field for his personality; he has a strong affinity for rune magic and the arcane despite the precarious start to his life.

@theshadowmosaic is my personal blog where i post personally stuff.

@neiablackwood is my second half-elf who is the sister to Synric. She's chaotic, misguided, and a fortune teller who doesn't like to tell reveal her secrets to the world (and also too inexperience to know what she's doing). This blog is a little darker as it covers trauma in most aspects such as drug abuse, working the streets for coin, murder, etc, though these may not be written on there, they are alluded too.

@thefracturedmosaic is a combination of characters that I got tired of making unique blogs for. You'll find Madivh Blackwood, Jacorek Blackwood, and Nairus Amberleaf primarily, but if any other side characters pop up they'll be posted here as well.

@cas-iskrassh this was an rp character at one point, but i stopped rping in the game. So now this is just a collection of ff14 (final fantasy 14) stuff for me now. People are free to send ask or private messages if any character is interested enough or you want a new friend to try and rp with, as I no longer rp in-game for World of Warcraft or FF14 at this time.

[alastar-wyatt]

changing careers to "wandering swordsman who cuts down anyone that crosses their path"

[alastar-wyatt]

Once Alastar was excused from the handoff of evidence, Mey was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Though her personal feelings told her to speak with him, she knew she had to keep her distance for a bit or risk blowing both of their covers. From her perch on the ceiling pipes of the brawl pub she was still able to see and hear the small cluster of the gang members below.

“She could've easily talked her way out of this if it was handed in.” Jazzle grumbled as she turned over the film canister in her hands.

“Maybe we're missing something,” Cae offered logically.

Jazzle huffed and handed the cannister over to the mechagnome by her side. “Make copies of these just in case and see if you can find any thing else odd about them.”

The mechagnome dipped her head, white and purple pigtails bobbing along as she slipped from the booth and headed out.

Cae watched her go, then looked back to Jazzle. “You believe the boy?”

“Fuck no,” Jazzle snapped. “But Savian’s been on his way out for some time now. If Vice didn't push him, we coulda just let him fade away, but she had to be a bitch about it, like always.”

“You care for him.” Cae was met with a sharp look from Jazzle.

After a few moments of silence she simply offered. “Vice went too far.” Jazzle stretched out her tiny arms then slipped out of the booth. “Come on, walk me home.”

Mey narrowed her eyes as the two exited, then she carefully extracted herself from the area and towards the lake. The feeling of nature kept her content for a time, simply sitting in the shadow of the small hillside and listening to the waterfall. But the longer she sat, the more she realized how alone she was. It was a stark contrast from the weeks at the manor. Her gaze shifted towards Elwynn, but she got to her feet and forced herself to walk the canal streets instead.

Not many shops were open, but she was happy to see that the one she had in mind was still active. The crowd inside seemed young and boisterous for midnight on a weekday. She watched from the window as two girls playfully splashed water from the sink at one another. Another small gaggle of teenagers was grouped around the reception area, pointing out things in their catalog. A small smile touched her lips before she pushed the door open.

The two girls looked towards the door, the smiles still bright on their faces. “Hello!” The one closest chirped. The other by the barber chair was cleaning her tools. Neither seemed bothered by a fully armored rogue stepping into their shop.

“Evening,” Mey stated lightly, then pulled her mask down to hang around her neck. Her white hair had grown long and the braids were a bit unkempt at this point. “Have time for one more?”

The two girls exchanged an excited look and nodded happily, ushering her towards a chair.

The new day had Mey seeking out breakfast at the tavern in mage district. It was a quiet morning and as such, the elf was half asleep at her table with one cheek propped up in her hand with her elbow on the table. A grey, rimmed hat was pulled low, obscuring her face, but long strands of neon green hair fell to her lower back from under the hat.

A waitress carefully set down Mey's order of coffee, but didn't have the heart to wake her. Unfortunately, her kindness was wasted as a human strode into the tavern about five minutes later and roughly pulled out the empty chair at her table.

Mey about jumped out of her skin and stared wide eyed as Ervick sat down across from her.

“You are difficult to find my friend,” he stated cheerily and flagged down the waitress.

Mey stared at him dumbfounded. “How-”

“Mana. Not controlling it. Remember?” He offered simply, then smiled at the waitress. “Black coffee miss, thanks.” When he found Mey still staring at him skeptically, he sighed. “All magic users have a signature to their mana. I'm guessing you're not trained based upon our last conversation.”

This seemed to shift the elf's mood from surprised to sour. “I'm not a…magic user.”

Ervick gave her an odd look. “You keep saying that, but you're sitting on a great deal of wasted potential there. I like the new look by the way,” he added with a grin.

Mey scowled at him and took a long sip from her coffee.

The waitress delivered his drink and he seemed to be taking his time enjoying the smell and the company before he spoke up again. “So, would you like to hear the story you asked for?”

It took Mey a moment to remember the topic of Synric's wanted poster and Ervick's previous comments. She motioned for him to continue.

Ervick's grin softened into a small smile. “I have a proposal on my…payment first.”

Her grip tightened on her coffee mug, but she couldn't guess what he might want. Information, surely, he was a detective afterall, but he'd been tight lipped about what he was working on. “Let's have it then,” she stated flatly, in no mood to play games.

“Excellent. I want to teach you to use your magic properly,” he stated bluntly and leaned back in his chair.

Mey choked on the sip she'd been taking, then quickly collected herself. “What…could you possibly get out of that?”

Ervick chuckled. “The satisfaction of proving you wrong.”

He was rewarded with a sharp glare and a scathing reply. “Why would an elf agree to be taught magic by a human?”

“Ouch,” he muttered, but in truth didn't seem phased at all. “That is my offer, take it or leave it.”

Mey was at a loss for words. She watched Ervick simply enjoy his coffee and look around the tavern as a few other early risers came in. Any excuse she could come up with would be easily rebuffed. Instead, she decided she'd get the story she wanted and ditch these magical lessons or use them to her advantage. “Fine, but I get to pick the study topics.”

He looked back at her and raised a brow. “You can pick half the topics.”

“Six lessons.”

“Twelve.”

“Six.” Mey stared at him firmly and Ervick finally shrugged.

“Fine, six. But even twelve is not enough to learn much. It takes years…” he trailed off as he realized who he was speaking to. “Right, well. What were you thinking of learning?” He asked with a sincere interest that made Mey frown.

“Learning what you found out,” she stated calmly.

Ervick sighed, the interest leaving his eyes. He took a sip of his coffee that lasted long enough for Mey to start to suspect he didn't know anything. Once he set the mug down, he looked at her with a more serious expression. “Your friend drew the short straw I'm afraid. Even though his…accused crime is over a year old, they got Heath on the case. The guy's like a dog with a bone. At first it's kinda cute, but after a while it's just noisy and gross.”

Mey raised an eyebrow. “That's not worth twelve lessons.”

“I'm beginning to think you're intentionally trying to hurt my feelings,” he grinned at her. “It just so happens I'm close friends with Heath and I know how to distract him.”

Her golden eye stared at him over the rim of her mug. A frown was still in place as she lowered it. “Close friends?”

Ervick waved a hand. “Let's say acquaintances then. We went to school together.”

Mey scoffed. “So as an acquaintance, what are you going to do?”

A shrug followed. “Give him false information. Maybe if you do really well on your studies, I'll make it go away completely,” he offered a wink.

With that, Mey stood up from her chair and started to set out the coins she owed. Ervick blinked, looked between her and the table, then realized she wasn't bluffing as she quickly went for the door. “H-hey! Damnit…” he got to his feet and ripped a few coins from his pocket before hurrying after her.

Mey had made it down the small ramp in front of the Blue Recluse before she heard him emerge from the establishment.

“It was just a joke!” He called after her, the first bit of worry in his voice since they'd met weeks ago. When Mey kept walking, he scrambled for something to say, then called out again with his last bit of mustered confidence. “The park at six bells?”

She let him sweat for a few more steps before pausing at the corner of the ramp. Mey pulled her hat lower and gave him a brief glance. “Make it five bells, I'm busy tonight.” Without waiting to see his reaction, she slipped around the corner and back into the shadows.

@alastar-wyatt

[alastar-wyatt]

[alastar-wyatt]

Intelligence

image source

Mentions: @alliesdelimma @divergent-lines @savianblackwood

Sitting on top of one of the many rooftops in Old Town, Alastar watched as people milled about below. The sun was beginning to rise, giving him better ease to see face’s, but most importantly seeing if those faces were wearing anything that was black and green in a checkered like pattern. So far, the night had produced little luck, reminding him why he wasn’t a fan of doing intel work. Patience wasn’t the problem, it was keeping his mind aware of everything all at once. Thus, his lack of attention as two people nearby shook hands a little too long, whispered a few too short words, and separated quickly afterwards going their separate ways. 

So sitting upon the rooftop, oblivious to the exchange below, Alastar continued his lazy search for the checkered green and black pattern clothing, while another part of him, bored with waiting, began to draw out feelings, and memories attached to those feelings, to the forefront of his attention.  

Feelings from the last few weeks. Memories of Neia and her kidnapping, memories of Savian’s neck almost snapping, the anger of the red-headed man when Alastar intervened. 

Memories of Mey sitting coldly and distantly, and yet, always seemed to know what was going on. Memories of Synric, before he showed up, years ago, too now memoryless and lacking any sense of understanding of what was going on.

All these feelings and memories stung at him like mosquitoes, quiet and annoying before itching to the point he could no longer ignore the instinctual desire to scratch. When he did, they weighed his shoulders down, creating a tightness in his chest, and a heaviness in his legs. More than once did he rub at his eyes in hope to distract himself while he searched. 

He didn’t quite know what to do with these feelings, and there were no black and green checkered patterns to drag him away from this rooftop. So he sat there, anxiety rising, fingers tapping, while one part of mind was dedicated to the job at hand, calm and collected, while the other demanded him to do something other than sit and wait.

Focus. Block out everything. Something else to think about. Something else to do. 

For a moment, he did, compelled he assigned that second part of him too watching a man glancing around everywhere but up, nervous and twitchy. That part of his mind whispered to him, drug addict, looking for his dealer. But this was just a distraction, not the main focus. So as his eyes darted to another person coming out from a tavern further ahead, he searched the clothing and found nothing correlating close to what he was searching for. 

Absently, he looked for the nervous man, only to find that he had disappeared.

Alastar sighed, rubbing at his scalp vigorously, before scowling and grumbling to himself. He settled back down, glaring at the streets. 

The bell chimed eight. The sun had risen so the shadows of buildings were being formed, and blue skies above were a bright blue. 

The familiar transition between lawlessness and lawfulness began. Guardsmen came out of the barracks to his right, while the lingering men and women around store fronts yet open began to fade away to the nearest alleyways.

They had the right idea.

 Alastar slowly stood up, stepped out of view of the patrols, and began his lengthy, careful climb over the rooftops until he came to a secluded section by the canal and climbed down. 

A dog jumped from its shadowy hole as Alastar landed with a thud on the cobblestone. The growl came with a bark. Alastar growled in return, letting a little bit of the worgen echo in his vocals. The dog tucked its tail and ran. Only a homeless man on the other side watched with the tired exhaustion of someone too poor to actually care for the commotion. 

Alastar walked back towards the Old district proper, and began a new search that occupied both body and mind, relaxing him, and forgetting his troubles for the time. 

Passing a patrolling group, their voices were warm and awake as he listened. “...ater I’ll be taking the archway by the farms.” 

“Lucky.” One groaned miserably, “I got the Canals after lunch.” 

“Lucky?” Another spat, “how is that lucky?” “How is it not?” 

“Peasants and beggars come for miles at the archway! At least the Cana–”  there conversation faded echoing off the bricks around them. They didn’t even give him a second look. Good. He’d make sure to avoid them if he saw those three again when they came back around. 

But their conversation did spark a reminder. 

Ahead, a man slipped out from the shadows of an alleyway and hurried the opposite way the guards had come from, disappearing around the corner. He wore nothing that might indicate he was a part of this gang. No black or green checkered items. 

Alastar sighed. 

His short walk around revealed  working men and women leaving their homes and crowding the streets. He wouldn’t find anything now. Instead, he made his way into the tavern. His gaze swept the bottom floor as it had done so many times before. The crowd was thin, as it was in the mornings, but there was a small group standing by the stairwell; leathers, swords, and posture spoke well of their profession. However, there was no checked green or black pattern. Alastar dismissed them entirely.

 “Excuse me,” Alastar said softly, drawing the waitress' attention. 

“Yes, how can I help ye’?” She asked politely. 

A smile brushed Alastar lips, “Looking for some breakfast, you’re serving?”

“Of course,” she said, “Take a seat, eggs and bacon with a side toast, good?” 

He nodded. 

“I’ll bring it to ya’, go ahead and take a seat.” 

Taking to the upper balcony, Alastar wasn’t remotely surprised to see there wasn’t anyone hiding up there. He took his seat by the railing, situated himself to be side-ways with it, and kept his gaze on his table while looking down below. 

The group by the stairwell talked as if there was no one else there. “Ya’ should have seen the size of it, and the idiot just runs in all eyes glazed over–” 

Nonsense. He pushed their voices from his mind. 

Alastar's mind drifted again as he went back to waiting. At least, this time, thinking of a better, and quicker way to find the information he needed. He knew they would be in the tram, he knew that much, but was it safe for him to go there? Would it be too obvious if they saw him standing there? Too obvious if he kept going in and out?  

The waitress sat his breakfast down, and he began to eat slowly, ordered a cup of ale once, and two cups of water afterwards, and by the time the bell struck eleven, the tavern began to crowd and clamour with people. No one had anything he needed. He stood up and returned to his patrol. 

When the  bell tolled two, Alastar had done four walks of Old Town and two around Dwarven. Now he was sitting on the fountain ledge staring towards the tram entryway. It would be faster to simply go inside. It was a better use of his time. But these were thoughts he only fantasized about. Thoughts he knew were impatient. Thoughts not meant for intel work.

Still…

He was assuming they knew who he was. Would they be able to connect the worgen that helped Savian as him? Could there not be thousands of other worgens that Savian just so happened to hire? Then Alastar thought of the two rogues in his house. They probably would have found the connection; he should just assume that this gang was just as smart. 

He sighed, leaning back towards the fountain staring up to the blue sky and white clouds. For a blissful moment his thoughts went silent, then, he thought of Allie. He wished Allie was here to distract him from this boredom of waiting for a chance encounter. Maybe she would be better at it than him. She seemed to be the type, though, more sociable than he was. She would just have talked to the nearest person and asked questions, bubbly, and excitable…

He didn’t realize he was smiling til two women walked by whispering and looking at him as if he might be crazy. 

Alastar collected himself letting his eyes trail the people walking too and from the tram once more. 

The bell struck half past two.

What if he got Allie to go inside with him? Would they pay attention to him closely then? Just think it was some sort of date? Would she enjoy such a date? Still, it would be a good cover, and someone to keep an eye on him if someone did try to pull anything. 

But if they did, they would also target her.

He shook his head and stood up. 

No, he’d been in these groups before. They just use Allie against him once they knew. He needed to think like them. If he was a part of this gang, what would he be doing now? 

It didn’t take long to figure out the answer.

Probably relaxing, and getting ready for tonight's work. But if they were really after Savian, they would have people about during the day. Who would be out? Recruits? Trusted members?  But it had been weeks since the incident. Would they really be looking for him now? 

Damn his luck. Without knowing where they worked, it was too hard to actually go and find a place to scout out. He should have asked Savian for more details. 

His thoughts dimmed as his mind alerted him to a man. This man was unassuming among the crowd. He dressed in typical fashion, nothing too fancy, but not poor and dirty. This man had a job, like Savian more than likely somewhere in the city. So what had caught his attention? 

The man passed by a group giving him a clear moment, and Alastar saw it. A checked black and green bandana strapped along a pouch hiding just barely under a coat. Alastar's eyes laid on him longer than he realized before adjusting his position to walk the other way; it didn’t seem anyone noticed him staring, so he slid behind a nearby building, picked up his pace in the alleyway, avoiding two men smoking, and stopped still in the shadows at the end of the building leading back to the streets. With a clear look towards the tram entryway, Alastar waited a heartbeat wondering if he had just been a little too late when the man stepped into view, heading into the tram entryway, hesitated at its entryway, before touching the purse at his waist, then continued on.

Alastar frowned, letting his only sighting of this group disappear. 

Irritation set plainly as he crossed his arms taking in the ground underneath him. Was he really going to have to go into the fight club to get real information? Should he wait and see if the man came back out? Should he trail him back to where he went? What if–

Footsteps behind him came to a stop by the time he registered them, he turned as a man’s thick accented voice said, “‘eh bo’do’.” His smile was broken with missing teeth. “Loo’in o’ som’?” 

It took a moment for Alastar to translate what the man said, “Are you looking for something.” 

Alastar responded coldly. “No, I was–” he stopped, thinking for a moment as his eyes set on the second man further down the alleyway. That man was watching intently, poised if ready to sprint away or to sprint towards him. “I missed my meeting, is all.” 

The man that approached glanced around him, looking towards the tram. “Ah,” he said knowingly. “We swell ‘etter,” his crooked smile grew wide again. “Co’, co’,” he nodded his head back towards the shadow hallway. 

Alastar didn’t care to translate what he was trying to say with broken teeth, bad accent, and maybe a cut tongue with how bad the man spoke, but he understood what the man wanted from him. 

A moment of his time. 

Did he really look like a man looking for drugs? He didn’t think so with his blue and amber gambeson marking him as someone of richer pay even if it was hiding partially under his worn brown long coat. 

Alastar’s finger tapped on his crossed arms. They took it as anxious hesitation. The man took several steps away, paused, and ushered him again, “Co’, co’, ‘etter stuff.” 

Alastar did not follow, instead, he took a step back and rejoined the crowd heading out of the dwarven district. 

[alastar-wyatt]

As the magic of the hearthstone faded, so too did the fresh, clean air of Alastar's property in the mountains. Mey stepped onto the stagnant and smoggy streets of Stormwind, not at all motivated to do her job. The light of day was almost gone from the sky and with it, the typical worker was replaced with those looking for a good time or a good distraction. She urged her legs to carry her towards mage district.

Across the bridge, she saw the lights still on inside the Courier building and made her way over. Just as she approached, a young man hurried out of the front door, his hands full of files and a building messenger bag slung over his shoulder. A thrum of magic sounded as he set the runes on the door and turned to almost run head first into Mey's chest.

Her hand shot out to steady the swaying stack of papers in his hands as he stuttered out an apology.

“I didn't see you, sorry!” His wide, blue eyes started to settle back to their normal brightness.

“Not a problem,” Mey replied gently. “I was hoping to grab a copy of today's paper.”

“Oh. We're sold out here. The tavern nearby might have some though.” As if reading her mind while she eyed the stack of writing, he added “This is for tomorrow.”

Mey inclined her head. “I'll take a look. Thanks…?” She let the question linger, but didn't have to wait long.

“Toby!” He offered easily. “Have a good night!” With that he scurried by her towards the bridge.

Mey spared a glance after him, then admired the magic work on the door. Savian's warning of the murder that had happened in the office sounded in her mind and she turned away. Her first destination wasn't far; a few yards away, in front of the entrance to the Stockades, was a board covered in sheets of paper. They gently flapped in the breeze, making a soft rustling that grew into a louder roar, then ebbed away again.

The white color washed over her toes in the sand as the small waves crashed along the beach. The sun's warmth travelled up from her toes to her core, pulling away the ever present chill she felt in her fingers. A deep breath filled her lungs and she tasted salt on her tongue before letting her shoulders relax and a deep calm came over her. As her eyes scanned the sparkling blue water, she felt weightless, as if she might float out over the ocean-

“Ma’am.”

The stern voice drew Mey's attention and she turned to stare at the helm of a Stormwind guard.

“Back up or we'll remove you.” He repeated.

Mey's brow furrowed. She was almost standing directly in the prison door. A couple quick steps backwards and she raised a palm. “Sorry, long day,” she smiled weakly.

If the guard cared, the cold metal helm gave nothing away. The black slits simply watched her as she turned and stepped back out to the canals. A hand reached up to her chest, her heart fluttering wildly. The board of wanted posters was still there, but the soft rustling of paper made her chest tighten and she rushed off towards the park entrance.

Instead of heading down the steps, she made her way to the corner where the walls met and sat with her back pressed against the firm, cool stone. It was easier to breathe with the solid reality on both sides.

*What was that?*

As if on cue, a voice called out to her. “Mey.”

She glanced to her right, but only saw an empty street. A brow raised and she dug in her pocket to pull out the comm from Savian. The little light was dark; she'd never turned it on. With a frown, she turned it on and watched it, but it sat silent in her palm as the moments ticked by.

Mey shoved the item back into her pocket and rubbed at the corners of her eyes. She needed sleep, uninterrupted sleep. In preparation, she pulled free the cigarette case and lit one quickly as she made her way through the park and towards the lake. By the time she found an out of the way tree, the smoke was unwinding the tension in her bones and replacing it with the warm, tingling sensation. With a short shadow step, she found a large branch and settled against the trunk. Just another elf sleeping in the woods.

Sunrise was barely visible when Mey got down from her perch. The night was filled with random wakings and she desperately needed caffeine, but first she had to finish her task from last night. Luckily there was a similar board posted at the entrance to Dwarven District. She flipped through the pages, pausing on random ones that caught her interest until her son's visage stared back at her.

The paper was old and somewhat faded from the sun. Now it lay two layers deep on the posting. Luckily for him, it was less detailed than she remembered. Mey committed the information to memory and left the paper where it hung.

Her steps continued towards the tavern where she grabbed a seat and ordered a cup of coffee. As she waited, she fiddling with tuning the strings on the mandolin in her lap and wondered if Alastar had any success on his first attempt. She sighed at her own uselessness; tonight would be better.

Mey offered the waitress a small smile as she delivered her drink and then pulled it towards herself, wrapping her fingers around it. Just as she briefly closed her eyes to take in the smell, she heard the scrape of a chair being pulled out. She took in a long, deep breath to deal with whatever was going to be staring back at her.

While he wasn't completely unattractive, the detective from Redridge was not a face she wanted to see first thing in the morning. He grinned at her and offered a cheery greeting.

“Morning.”

Mey simply huffed and took a sip of her coffee.

He took the opportunity to flag down the waitress and order one of his own. Hazel eyes met the cold stare of the elf across the table. “I'm glad to see your pursuer failed.”

Mey set the mug down in front of her and adjusted the instrument in her lap. “I’m beginning to think you're the pursuer,” she mused.

He waved a hand. “You're not entirely wrong, but you're not right either.” His grin deepened as he noticed that it seemed to strike a nerve. “I have no interest in causing trouble with you.”

“Then you're walking a fine line.” She stated flatly.

A small chuckle escaped him. “Enjoy your coffee, I'm simply here out of curiosity. It's been years since I've seen a bard’s magic wielded so effectively.” He glanced towards his own cup and immediately paid the waitress.

Mey raised a brow. “I'm a bard, but that was no magic.”

“No?” He eyed her up and down. “It’s strange. You seem to have no control over your mana now, but you weaved it into playing that night like someone who's been practicing for years.”

A silence lingered from the other end of the table. Then she calmly took another sip of her drink. “And why are you so interested in bards?”

The detective was mid sip and grunted before swallowing. “Always have been. It's a dying craft, the old training anyway. Just a bunch of fluffed up shirts looking for a lay or a pay.”

“I highly doubt your passionate love of musical craft is why you persist in speaking with me.”

A bark of a laugh left him. “Elves…” he muttered, then looked at her with a genuine smile. “It was meant as a compliment, just take it.”

In no mood to continue entertaining him, Mey simply returned to her drink and tuning her instrument. To her dismay, he didn't seem like he was going to leave anytime soon. The detective leaned back in his chair and draped an arm over the wood, balancing his cup in the other hand.

“What's your name?” Mey asked lightly.

His eyes drew back to her with a mischievous glint. “You truly lost my card, didn't you?”

Mey shrugged.

“Ervick,” he offered. “And you?”

Her mismatched eyes flickered up from her instrument briefly. “Mey.”

“Well, Mey,” he repeated. “What brings you to these parts?”

“I travel and I work.” As she replied, her hands moved deftly to pluck out the notes and adjust the tuning pegs. “What are you investigating?”

Ervick chuckled. “Well…at least you read it. Nothing at the moment. The business is a start up, if I'm being completely honest.”

Something told her he wasn't. “You're either very bad or very good,” she mused.

“Oh, I'm very good,” he assured. “Just new to the area.” He watched her work for a moment before continuing. “Bards typically know the local gossip. Anything worth pursuing?”

Mey weighed her choice for longer than she should have. “Nothing besides your typical shady city dealings.”

Ervick clicked his tongue. “Surely you must know more than that.”

“Afraid I'm starting up here as well,” she shrugged. “And I don't sing for free.”

“Out for a pay then.” He stared at her with a knowing expression. “Well, if you hear anything interesting, let me know. Maybe we can make a trade.”

Mey stared at him flatly across the table. “A bit more about your pursuer story might make an interesting song.”

It was Ervick’s turn to raise a brow. “Oh? Hm, that can be arranged. What will you trade for it?”

She glanced off to the side. “Whatever I might come across, unless you have a theme in mind. If so, I could write something for you.”

Ervick threw back the rest of his mug and pushed back from the table. “I'll hold you to that,” he stated lowly, then headed for the door.

Once he was gone, Mey sighed and flagged down the waitress. She wasn't quite sure what his game was, but a wild card might come in handy. After she paid, she slipped into the shadows to find a private location to prepare for a day of work.

In reality, she wasn't just looking for intel. As soon as she caught sight of Alastar, she began to tail him. Finding snoops was usually easier when you were snooping. Though she found no others lingering in the shadows around him, her mind was yet to be set at ease. Something did not feel right. For how serious this group seemed, they had yet to approach them.

If this was the Mosaic, we would've found Alastar's property by now.

The thought made a fear creep over her.

If it was her, she also would not have made a move yet, not while Savian was so heavily guarded.

As Mey made her way out of the city for their meeting spot, her gaze kept shifting towards the manor. She had to trust that Madivh and Nairus had things handled.

Trust was never her strong suit.

As such, she made the entire day stalking, the trip out to Elwynn, and waiting for Alastar all in stealth. The expenditure of magic was getting to her, but she needed to practice. While she waited for Alastar off in one of the trees, she placed her check in call to Madivh, just as it was about to hit twenty four hours since they last spoke.

@alastar-wyatt

[alastar-wyatt]

[alastar-wyatt]

Art by Kamura

[alastar-wyatt]

by Artem Saranin

[alastar-wyatt]

Wolf and bird by LAananna

A little bird, free and wild. Wheeling and turning and twisting through the air.

A proud wolf, patient and weary. Standing firm and unmoving even in the breath of the storm.

But every bird needs a roost, every bird needs a home. Every wolf needs a scout, ever wolf needs another's song.

What better home than the loyal nobility of her very own wolf. What better uplifting flight than his very own Sparrow.

Fang and feather, howl and song. Ever do they dance in time together.

@alastar-wyatt

[alastar-wyatt]

“Forgive the intrusion,” came the sullen voiced whisper of the Earthen footman. “But your baked goods have arrived at the door. We were able to procure the last of them before the final closing. The eclairs are the finest.”

Allie stared at the footman for a long moment before looking to the basket in question.  Puzzled she smiled awkwardly as the basket was carefully lifted and the cover drawn back to look at the eclairs held within.

Replacing the lid the young woman blinked at the impassive almost bored expression on the Earthen’s face.  “W-what?”  She began but was cut off as the Earthen bowed.

“We appreciate your business, we have carefully made sure the eclairs were preserved in pristine condition.  We apologize again for the closing and any inconveniences it may cause.  Good day.”  With that the man was off.

Staring after him Allie blinked slowly, puzzled by the entire exchange.  Looking down at the basket she eyed the eclairs before bringing them inside.  Obviously this was a mistake of some kind, she hadn’t heard anything about her favorite shop closing, she’d just gone there yesterday!

Inspecting the basket she couldn’t find a note or name to give her much information beyond an embossed card with a filigreed logo.  The fancyness of it screamed Silvermoon, but there was a lack of any words for her to understand from what bakery this was coming or to whom the basket was intended.

Leaving it on the counter in the kitchen she pondered it as she tried to think of what she could do about it.  She was going to have to ask the others at the office if they recognized the logo for the bakery, maybe then she could…

Allie’s stomach gave a little rumble and she shifted from foot to foot as she eyed the still visible eclairs set in the basket.

She shouldn’t…

They weren’t hers…

Someone was going to be missing them and missing their last chance…

The first bite had her making a delighted sound in her throat, wholly unlady like as the heavenly treat all but melted in her mouth with its mixture of cream and chocolate.  Unfortunately for her the sounds came just as her partner came walking into the kitchen.  She recognized the sound of his steps and as she whirled to look at Alastar she saw his face trying to smooth into a passive expression.  There was a zero percent chance that he hadn’t just heard her moan in delight, and as she stared at him wide eyed with eclair in hand and a blush starting to stain her cheeks she watched as he dropped all pretence of hiding his amusement.

He looked at her with a growing smirk as he raised an eyebrow at her.  She sputtered a moment then pouted, the reactions only fueling his amusement further.  Poking her tongue out at him, she turned away to take another bite and hide her blush, still making a little hum of pleasure as she continued to enjoy her treat.

She had two before she finally was able to contain herself.  Whomever was missing this treat certainly wouldn’t miss three missing right?  She’d left one behind for Alastar, though the jerk didn’t deserve one of them!

Allie only hoped that maybe someone at her work might recognize the logo for the bakery.  Someone deserved to have their rightful delivery of treats, and maybe…maybe they could share some other good bakeries…

((I have had this ask in my inbox for a long while! I'm sorry for that! Also I have a little memory somewhere in my head that you got one similar @nixalegos. Don't be mad at Allie for getting the last batch...it'll probably return?

Probably.

Mention of: @alastar-wyatt for the cheeky boy who will never let her live down the fact she moaned over a pastry.))

[alastar-wyatt]

The light of the moon calls you, will you answer it?