ascendantlight

[ascendantlight]

Home, Lost

She could barely see beyond the temple’s entrance. The air was turgid with dark smoke and cinders. The wind spun in furious agony. Their capital was burning; nothing she had done could quench the unnatural hunger of the flames.

Tyrande had ordered her here to ensure that the occupation of Teldrassil by the Horde would be as peaceful as possible. But instead of the takeover the Night Elves had expected, the Horde lit the World Tree ablaze.

Taelendra had seen the balls of fire arcing towards Teldrassil as she approached on the hippogryph. Her initial confusion turned into horror as she realized what the Horde had begun. She rushed her mount to the World Tree to try and lead as many citizens as possible to safety.

But I failed. There were so many…

Taelendra continued to stare into the fire and smoke near the entrance. She knew she couldn’t leave the temple again. The entirety of Darnassus was engulfed in flames and she had already succumbed—and nearly died—to the heat and smoke herself trying to rescue as many as she could. She was lucky she had been rescued by Greymane.

…so many innocent people.

She felt nothing as her hair, unkempt and covered in ash, whipped in the hot winds. She blinked from the smoke stinging her eyes, watching as her civilization’s capital burned to the ground. She heard a word yelled behind her, but she was so numb it barely registered in her mind.

Wait.

Taelendra rushed forward, ignoring the oppressive heat of the fires and the sting of the cinders upon her pale, violet flesh. She thought she had seen a shadow. As she tried to peer through the smoke she saw movement again.

“This way! Run! Do not be afraid of the flames, I will help you! RUN!”

The shadow began to move towards Taelendra as she took a breath and stepped into the flames. She cried out in pain from the heat, her hair and robe singing. But the Light was with her. She called out to it, beseeching it to give her strength. As the shadow reached the other side of the blaze, she gathered Light about her and then released it all at once, causing a burst of holy power which temporarily pushed back the fires. Taelendra grabbed at the shadow and ran, stumbling back into the temple as the flames rushed back in.

A fellow priestess caught the young Night Elf as Taelendra fell to her knees, coughing.

“Foolish girl!”

Astarii approached Taelendra, and despite her remonstrating tone, her touch was comforting and eased Taelendra’s pain.

“You must take the portal to Stormwind, Taelendra. Time is short and there will be few left that we can save.”

Wincing, Taelendra looked up at her mentor. “I… I will stay with my sisters.”

“No. You will leave. Our people—and the Alliance—will need healers as accomplished as you.”

Taelendra stood up, tears finally reaching her eyes. “I am staying!”

Astarii Starseeker did not reply. Her face was resolute; her decision made. As Taelendra looked pleadingly at her sister priestesses, she could see in each of their silvery eyes that they had also made their decision.

Astarii reached up and placed her hand against Taelendra’s cheek, using her thumb to wipe away the tears.

“Elune light your path. Watch from the other side of the portal: there may be others we can save.”

Taelendra stifled a racking sob.

“Elune be with you, sisters.”

Taelendra glanced back as she stepped through the portal, seeing Astarii’s smile for the last time.

___________

Taelendra raised her arm reflexively to protect her eyes from the bright sun as she appeared in Stormwind harbor. The sky was cloudless and the sun’s rays danced and sparkled upon the deep blue sea. She nearly collapsed as she breathed in the crisp, clean air. Crowds of people bustled about the harbor, helping the refugees from Darnassus.

A human, tending to the young Night Elf who Taelendra had led through the fires and into the temple, saw her appear from the portal.

“Priestess, are you hurt? Your robes…”

“I am fine. Thank you for attending to the youth. Please, take them to get further care. I will remain beside the portal and offer help to those who come through.”

With a look of concern in their eye, the human nodded curtly and went back to their task.

Taelendra found a ledge near the portal and sat down. Tears still welled up in her eyes as she waited for others to come through.

Will we ever know how many were lost?

The thought echoed in her mind, but as it did she realized the error of her words. Her tears abruptly stopped.

No. They were not lost. They were murdered.

She stood up again, looking at all of the injured and dying refugees, some whose wounds might even be beyond her skills.

Why did Tyrande abandoned us just to save one life? How many could we have saved had she stayed? She’s the most powerful priestess amongst us! Did she honestly believe that the Horde—that Sylvanas—would occupy instead of destroy?

She glanced back at the portal as it shimmered and then winked out, the magic severed on the other side.

Sylvanas had no intention of allowing Teldrassil to stand. Tyrande was a fool. I hope Malfurion’s continued existence is worth the many lives of our people who might have been saved.

With the portal gone, she now had other duties. She would attend to her people as best she could. Taelendra steeled herself and wandered into the crowd to find those most in need.

Sylvanas has not declared war. She has declared annihilation.

So be it.

[ascendantlight]

The Final Test

“Your orbital calculations of those planets were well done.  But what if I had rejected your request and delayed it by several days? A reckless gambit.”  The Star Augur crossed his arms, looking stern.  “But I approve.”

Ildraneth, relieved though he was, still held his breath for Etraeus’ final judgement.

“There are two more things I wish you to accomplish.”  The Star Augur motioned him away from the center of the room.  “I will guide the Observatory to locations that have been forbidden to Acolytes.  I wish you to harness the magics of these planets as quickly as you can and improvise. You will need to augment your power with the Nightwell even though I will be the one guiding us.”

Ildraneth let out his breath as he moved from the center to make way for Etraeus.  He was increasingly becoming nervous as he had no inkling of what he was about to see.  Forbidden locations?  How quickly does the Augur expect me to harness these powers without having ever seen them before?

“Resume your connection with the Nightwell.  It begins.”

Ildraneth drew in power as the Augur did.  A purple glow of power suffused the seams of the Observatory walls and they flung away. He gasped at what he saw.

An entire world bathed in fel energies.  He had seen the cursed demons in the city and the warped Felborne; he knew what corrupted this world.  Is this what would become of his with Elisande’s pact?

“Begin.”

Ildrathen reached out with his power tentatively, probing at the aura of power surrounding this world. He winced as soon as he had touched it, revolted from its corruption.  But the power…

“Grasp and command it!” the Star Augur snapped.

Ildraneth’s eyes hardened and he stood straighter.  If this is what it takes.

He reached out to the fel energy and channeled some into himself.  He nearly doubled over from the nausea that swept through him.  Repulsed, he drew more.  He needed more.  A green, sickening aura limned his form as he reached out and summoned a fel firestorm around them.

“Good.  Release.  Release!”

Ildrathen slowly severed his ties from the fel energies of the planet.  As revolted as he was at first, he felt a pang of need now that he no longer held to the fel.  Such power. Combined with the magic of the Nightwell I could do breathtaking things! He smiled manically, shaking.

“Pull yourself together. Do the same with the next.”

The walls of the Observatory slammed shut and opened again.

Ildrathen thought he saw a planet in front of him but it looked odd.  Curious, he used the power of the Nightwell to increase his vision. He did not gasp; he recoiled when he realized what he saw.  Vast beings of infinite hunger consuming everything around them.  Beings of… not destruction, he realized, but of non-existence. Things destroyed can be rebuilt or reformed.  These creatures wanted nothing to exist and their hunger was insatiable.

“Begin!”

Ildrathen barely heard Star Augur Etraeus’ command.  By instinct, he reached out to this hunger.  Unlike the fel where he created a conduit this power, this non-existence pulled him in. In terror, he tried to pull back but was unable.  He drew more power from the Nightwell in order to sever the ties.  He heard voices, millions upon millions of voices, scratching at his brain.  He strained with all of his power to keep them away.  He drew more arcane essence from the Nightwell until the two energies were at an equilibrium.  The voices, like claws, pulled him in every direction.  He couldn’t hear the Star Augur screaming at him.

Ildrathen’s mind snapped like thick ice cracking on a frigid winter day.  His eyes looked forward, unseeing.  Drool pooled at the corner of his mouth.  The walls of the Observatory closed.

Star Augur Etraeus sighed deeply.  “That one had potential until the end.”  The Augur conjured a singularity within the Acolyte, whose name Etraeus couldn’t remember, and Ildrathen was no more.

[ascendantlight]

Astromancer’s Rise

Ildrathen entered the Astromancer’s Rise and smiled.  He had studied and worked here for millennia but never tired of this portion of the palace. The Nighthold held many wonders but—for him—this was its crown jewel.  It had always been a refuge for him.  A place to see starlight, the heavens and other worlds. It enabled him to escape from the oppressive barrier that protected Suramar with its ubiquitous, violet tinged light.

There was no pomp or magnificent displays of majesty in the Rise.  The architecture was as beautiful as any other area of the palace—flawless stonework, gothic archways, grand pillars and delicate elvish filigree. But the hallways were lined with bookshelves stuffed with tomes from myriad disciplines.  In every available nook, a student was studying a book or ledger while sitting at a table or on the cushions that were haphazardly strewn across the floor.  Groups of students and instructors stood in front of chalkboards discussing astromantic fundamentals or complex mathematics, orbital patterns of distant stars and worlds and, critically, the most advanced of them were theorizing where other, magically infused worlds might be located.  

Ildrathen breathed in and smiled again.  This place was filled with life and a vibrancy he did not feel in other parts of Suramar City.  Things were actually discovered here.  Every day there was the possibility of something new, of seeing something new.  The drudgery of existence that plagued the commoners and a vast majority of the nobles was a burden he did not feel.  And soon he would be allowed to research independently, allowing him more freedom than he’d ever had before.

He had studied for this moment for four out of his six thousand year existence.  Day after day of arcane theory, mathematics, astronomical charts, physics and practicing control over the raw powers of the Nightwell. Magic that dealt with space and time were incredibly dangerous and took vast amounts of power to wield.  A Nightborne Astromancer required not only an endless well of knowledge from which to delve—they needed to harness vast amounts of arcane energies drawn from the Nightwell and then be able to bend it to their purpose.  It was a task that only a handful of others had managed and none better than Star Augur Etraeus.

It was to him and the Eternal Observatory that Ildrathen traveled.  Nominated by Astrologer Jarin, he was finally deemed worthy for testing by the Star Augur, which was a feat in and of itself.  Etraeus rarely tested Acolytes.  Most of the time he didn’t even acknowledge their existence.  Three or four Acolytes might be tested in a thousand years, so whether he was raised to the title of Astrologer or not, Ildrathen knew he could be proud of this day.  He would continue to work in the Astromancer’s Rise regardless so Ildrathen was content.

The hallway to the Eternal Observatory was darker than the other corridors but the roof gleamed with stars.  More than ten thousand years of powerful magics such as the ones employed by Astromancers changed a place and the effect here was akin to what Ildrathen imagined would be a night sky if the barrier didn’t exist to protect them.  He continued up the hallway stairs looking up the entire time, hoping the image of the stars would center him before he confronted the Star Augur.

As he reached the entrance to the observatory, he saw Star Augur Etraeus levitating in the center of the room with his back facing him.  He stepped inside and patiently waited, choosing not to interrupt the Augur’s meditation.  Etraeus was an impressive figure, even for a Nightborne.  He was more imperious than any Nightborne of whom he could think other than, perhaps, Grand Magistrix Elisande.  The few times he had encountered her was when she had visited the Rise, inspecting the school and the Star Augur’s progress.  Thinking back on those moments, witnessing Elisande and Etraeus stare each other down, he was still surprised they didn’t come to blows. Ildrathen wasn’t sure from whence their animosity arose but it was palpable.  Etraeus explained their work to her as if she were an incompetent child and Elisande spoke to him like a misbehaving mana saber.  Ildrathen shivered.  If he was raised to Astrologer, he decided he would fervently avoid their interactions.

“You’ve come,” the Star Augur sneered—he always sneered—as he lowered himself to the floor.  

“Yes, Star Augur.”

“Approach and stand in the center of the observatory.  You have done this before?”

“In groups, with other Acolytes and with Astrologer Jarin monitoring, yes.”

“I did not ask you for a history lesson,” Etraeus snapped.  “A simple yes would have sufficed.”

Ildraneth knew better than to respond and made his way to the center of the observatory.

“Begin.”

Ildraneth began drawing power from the Nighwell conduit centered in the circular floor of the observatory.  He rose and began tracing arcane runes in the air in front of him.  He began simply.  When his runes were complete, he drew more power and activated them.  The walls of the observatory dropped away and in front of them and they seemed to be floating in space tens of thousands of miles above a planet, completely covered with water.  Its ocean cast the planet in a deep, uniform cobalt.  It was an illusion—they weren’t actually there—but this illusion was so much more.  

Ildraneth closed his eyes for a moment and felt the power of this world, its inherent magic.  The essence of water, its overwhelming existence created an aura felt even through the looking glass the observatory had created. Ildraneth drew even more power from the Nightwell and created an orb of water before himself.  He split it into a thousand droplets and whipped them around the room.  He drew them back together in four orbs and spun them in an intricate pattern until they joined once more into a single sphere.

“Next.”

Ildraneth was hoping for a little more but he had planned to make this increasingly more difficult. It was much harder to begin with easier incantations and increase difficulty because of endurance.  He wondered if Etraeus thought he had begun with the most complex of his calculations.  The walls of the observatory slammed back in place.

The next world they viewed was rocky and dry.  Craters riddled the planet.  It looked lifeless.  Most Nightborne might ignore it but Ildraneth had felt the magic deep inside.  He demonstrated the powers of the element that imbued the planet creating earthquakes and meteors.

“Next.”

A planet, molten. Another made of nothing but air. A verdant, lush planet full of life as to be bursting.  He demonstrated the powers he sensed from their auras, each one of them as adeptly as he could.  Then, his most complicated.  He had requested this specific time because of his calculations.  He had found a system, early in its formation.  The proto-planets orbited chaotically because of the multiple resonances.  Some were bound to collide, others to be flung from their mother star into open space. Some would become moons of the most greedy.  But he had observed the orbits and two planets, even in this young state, had essence of magic.  The would be orbiting so closely he predicted he could view them at the same time.

The observatory walls flung away.  He placed their view slightly farther away than normal so that both planets could be seen—the farthest one from the star was ice, the other a rocky planet that was highly volcanic.  Due to its erratic orbit, it approached its star very closely, the tidal effects continuously heating its interior.  

As the chaotic system appeared before them, Ildraneth heard Star Augur Etraeus grunt.  Whether in approval, he couldn’t say.  As the planets Ildraneth had calculated began to approach each other, he drew heavily from the Nightwell and reached out to the essence of both planets simultaneously.  Ice controlled by his right hand and fire with his left, he summoned them and brought them together in a massive explosion of steam.  He stopped drawing from fire and summoned ice, creating snowfall from the steam.  He drew heat from fire and created rain.  

The observatory walls closed around them.  He was exhausted.  

“Interesting.”

Star Augur Etraeus’ derision had diminished considerably.

[ascendantlight]

Perspective

Merillien woke up drowsy and confused when she heard the soft tapping on her door.  No one ever knocked, they just unlocked the door and let themselves in.  After a short pause she heard the familiar click of key and latch.  The Housemaster peaked his head through the door.

“Merillien?”  She leaned up on her bed, squinting at the soft mage light streaming into the room. “Housemaster?”

Taking that as an invitation, the Housemaster walked into the small room, softly closed the door and placed the magic-infused lantern he carried on the side table.  He neared the bed and waved his hands, shooing her to one side so that he could sit down.  “I thought you might like to know that the Baron is dead.  The cause of death is unknown and will almost assuredly stay so.”

Merillien frowned, wiping the sleep from her eyes.  She didn’t feel any sadness or remorse about Baron Jerar’s death but she did feel annoyed to have been woken up at this ungodly hour. “Why did you come here just to tell me that?”

“Because, Merillien, you should always make sure that those you intend to kill die.  Confirmation is of the utmost importance.”

Merillien smirked.  “So, we’re even.  A life taken for a life saved.  I am no longer beholden to you.”

The Housemaster raised his eyebrow.  “Is that so?” he drawled.

Merillien sprang to her feet.  “Yes, that’s so!” she hissed.  “I will not be held hostage by you just because you offered help unasked for!  I appreciate what would have happened to me had you not stepped in but I owe you nothing beyond what you have already asked! Besides, you asked me to poison someone and now I know—“

The words died on Merillien’s lips as the Housemaster’s entire presence shifted.  She couldn’t identify or describe any particular change but something was different.  Dangerous. Is it his eyes?  She quickly made a conscious decision to abandon any and all threats that had formulated within her mind.

“Merillien, what do you want?”

She blinked; the moment of danger shattered as if it hadn’t occurred. “I want to be free.”

“From what?”

“From this place, this House.”

“And what will you do when you’re free, Merillien?  Work on a farm?  In a tavern?  As a seamstress?  What skills do you have to offer?”

“I—“ she wasn’t sure what to say.  Merillien hadn’t considered what she would do if she escaped this servitude, she had only focused on freedom.

“You’ll have to work, of course.  In order to pay for food, for lodging.  Perhaps your employer will give you a day of rest once and a while. Maybe the nights will belong to you and you alone—or maybe you’ll be too tired after a long day’s work and simply find your bed, up early to begin the day’s toils.  Is that the freedom you seek, Merillien?”

She didn’t answer, she just stood, thinking.

“I could free you.”

Merillien looked at the Housemaster.  He looked sincere.  She thought it the first time she had ever considered him that.

“You’ll free me from this place?” she asked, softly.

The Housemaster sighed.  “No, Merillien.  I will free you from your perspective.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You see this House as a prison, Merillien.  You have always thought so.  I can see why you would think that when you’re locked in your room every night.  But that precaution was put in place because of your repeated attempts at fleeing when you first arrived.  

“This House is not a prison, Merillien.  It is an opportunity.  You need not worry about money, clothes, food, a place to sleep… though it may not be the clothes, food and lodging that you want.  But you can change that if you work within the system. Your chances of doing that outside in the world by yourself and with very little in the way of skills or knowledge are greatly diminished.

“You don’t have to like where you are but you should recognize that the situation outside of these walls won’t be any easier for you.  You’ll have your freedom but nothing else.  I’ve watched you for close to one hundred years now. I know you hate the nobility for forcing you to work for them while witnessing their pampered lifestyle.  But you’re close to them, so very close to the power that they wield.  And they don’t do it alone, Merillien.  They need people like us.  Like me.

“And I serve them.  I serve them well.  And, because of that, I’m trusted.  But I’m also ignored and unnoticed; a lowly servant.  My position in this House offers me all the freedom I could ever desire, the lifestyle I prefer to live and the absolute anonymity of a servant.  I can move where I wish and when.  I can gather wealth while spending very little.  Do I have to bow and scrape? Occasionally.  But I can assure you, Merillien, I serve myself more than any noble.

“You’ve created a prison from this House but the lock is one you could have opened at any time.  Change your perspective.  I will teach you how.  And with that knowledge, you will gain your freedom.”

Merillien stared at the Housemaster, unsure of what to say.  She longed to be away from this place, this manor and the degenerate nobles of House Morningstar.  And yet, it was all she had known.  She would work regardless of where she was, whether for customer or employer.  Would she rather do that in a small hut or a grand villa?

“Do you accept?”

Merillien took a deep, deciding breath.  “Yes.”

“Excellent.”  The Housemaster, all smiles, reached out to shake Merillien’s hand.  As she did so it felt like something had fallen into place, clicking in her mind.

“Your first task is to make up with Hearthmistress Leyrith.” Still smiling, the Housemaster winked at her.

“What?!  No! She lied to me about my mother!”

The Housemaster chuckled softly.  “I remember your mother.  She received the money she’d bargained for but argued that you were worth more after you were chosen.  She started struggling with the guards to get to me… as if I would have paid more for you than the others.  Dreadful woman.”

Merillien ground her teeth.  “I will not forgive Leyrith.”

“Then don’t.  I couldn’t care less.  Just make up with her, girl.  You may think she’s ridiculous, clingy and weepy and all that’s true.  But she’s not stupid and she’s never lost interest in you, not even after you spurned her all those months ago.  She watches and keeps tabs on you more than you’re aware.  Merillien, you’re much too oblivious.  Make up with her, placate and indulge her and she’ll stop watching you so closely.”

Merillien thought she did a good job of hiding an angry pout.  She didn’t.  “I don’t know how I’d make up with Leyrith even if I wanted to.”

“Go to her, worried, because I’ve summoned you to my cottage tomorrow evening.  She’ll assume that I’ve chosen you as a mistress.”

“WHAT!?”

The Housemaster rolled his eyes.  “I have no interest concerning you in those regards, girl.  A bit presumptuous of you, don’t you think? Regardless, it will make an excellent excuse and Leyrith will be fully of pity and concern that you will be at my mercy.  We’ll spend the time on your education.”

With that, the blood elf stood, grabbed the mage light and made his way to the door.

“Housemaster?”  He turned and looked back at Merillien, a considerable shadow from his tall frame looming behind him.  “I would like to be Lady Pembrealle’s maid.  I don’t believe that it was ever filled after my heated discussion with Eanthra.”

The Housemaster scowled.  “She doesn’t know who you are, I can’t recommend you.  You have no experience as a lady’s maid.  And why you’d want to tie yourself to that frivolous featherhead is beyond me.  I could find a position much more—“

“If you recommend me soon she will most likely remember me. Baron Jerar complimented me as I served them champagne and she positively gushed in thanks to him.”

The Housemaster grunted.  “Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look.  Fine.  I will approach her sometime in the early afternoon when she’s finally out of bed. I’ll see what I can do.”

Merillien smiled as the Housemaster walked out and closed the door. She waited for the lock to click in place.  It never did. Strangely, she didn’t have the urge to run.

[ascendantlight]

The Mark

Merillien, in her finest House livery, stood at the entrance to the manor’s gallery with a tray of canape.  The gallery was, in many ways, the most impressive room of the estate.  Spanning almost the width of the entire villa, the room was long and comparatively narrow with a high ceiling.  The side of the room facing outside featured large windows framed by lush fabrics, which allowed guests to look out over the substantial gardens of the manor yard and, in the distance, the vast orchards which helped provide and sustain House Morningstar’s wealth.  

The gallery was a repository of Sin’dorei art—paintings and sculptures ranging from the small to the absolutely enormous lined the walls and dotted the room. Everything within seemed to be touched by a skilled artisan, from the intricate weave of the runner to the detailed carving on the columns and crown moulding.  Even the ceiling was a work of art: crisp, geometric patterns juxtaposed with flowing vines, leaves and fruit, all of which was gilt and ran the entire expanse of the gallery.  It was a room created to dazzle and awe.  But that wasn’t why she hesitated.

Merillien didn’t think that she’d seen so many blood elves massed together in one place her whole life.

As she surveyed the gathering she immediately felt a brief pang of nervousness.  House Morningstar had, of course, put on parties, banquets and other receptions before and she was used to them.  But not to this scale.  I don’t know what Baron Jerar looks like.  How am I supposed to find him in this crowd?

A servant waiting behind Merillien bumped into her as he made his way into the gallery.  The older blood elf gave her an annoyed look and motioned with his head as he moved into the crowd carrying a tray similar to hers.  Merillien took one last look and mentally shrugged.  Looks like this has become a hunt.

She eased her way into the crowd.  Nobles from several Houses, both major and minor, mixed with what she guessed were very rich merchants, important government bureaucrats, and opportunistic socialites.  There also seemed to be a few Magisters that had been invited, judging from their official robes of station.  As she passed small groups of chatting blood elves, individuals plucked canapes from her tray and popped them in their mouths, not even bothering to look at her. She sniffed quietly.  I may as well be a disembodied, floating tray.

Merillien made a sweep of the room, listening for names during conversations and looking for anyone who seemed even more bloated with self-importance than was usual.  She suspected that’s what a Baron would look like, anyway. She lingered near those individuals that caught her eye but none of them seemed to be the Baron.  

At the center of the room was a large party which included Lord Neldrinthor, Lady Pembrealle, and Young Master Somin Morningstar.  She approached and, as slowly as she could without being conspicuous, walked near the outer ring of the group, tray aloft, listening.  Merillien recognized everyone here but one young blood elf who looked like a sycophantic socialite but hoped that their discussion might give her a hint of where the Baron could be.

As she completed her circuit around the group, she felt a pinch on her bottom. Wholly engaged in her hunting, she jumped in surprise and stifled a yelp. Merillien quickly turned to see who had done it and a young, handsome blood elf in a tightly cut, stylish suit winked at her and grinned. The socialite.  She forced what she hoped looked like a subservient smile and turned again to leave.

“…wouldn’t you agree Baron?”

“Of course, Lord Neldrinthor, though I daresay King Anasterian may be positively apoplectic at the mere thought.”  The group of blood elves surrounding the Morningstars chuckled.

She turned again and saw the male who had pinched her addressing Lord Morningstar.  Him?  Her face darkened.  Maybe he does deserve what’s coming.  Merillien realized she was brooding at Baron Jerar’s back and spun to continue her path.  Several more guests reached for the hors d’oeuvres on her tray as she passed until only one remained.  Merillien grabbed it and stuffed it in her mouth.  No one ever ate the last thing on the tray.  It was as if everyone decided it had been rejected and, because of that, wasn’t good enough for their discerning tastes when it was exactly the same as all the others.  She chewed and headed towards the kitchen.

The room was bustling with servants, the cook yelling and pointing back and forth with her large spoon, as if conducting the surrounding cacophony into a symphony of order.  Merillien avoided the maids that scrambled about in panic taking things out of ovens, putting things in, stirring sauces, removing dirty dishes, placing clean ones in their place.  The cook’s eyes fell on her.

“Merillien!” the cook yelled.  “Stop standing around!  Grab that tray of champagne flutes and head back to the gallery!”

Merillien leapt towards the tray and picked it up, leaving.  She was surprised at how quickly she obeyed but she was honestly impressed at how well the cook supervised that many tasks at once. Merillien left the kitchen but slipped down a side passage to think.  She removed the small vial the Housemaster had given her from the pocket in her livery.  The liquid within looked clear.  He didn’t take any food and wasn’t drinking, either. Perhaps he’ll take champagne if I offer it to him directly?  Merillien grunted.  He did show interest.  But how am I going to get this to him through a room full of people?  She pursed her lips.  I suppose I’m just going to have to offend a lot of important people.  

Checking to make sure she was alone, Merillien opened the vial of poison, chose a flute and dropped the poison in.  She arranged the rest of the champagne flutes slightly away from it and in a manner that she hoped wasn’t obvious.  Having prepared as well as she thought she could, she picked up the tray and marched towards the gallery, the poisoned champagne closest to her chest.

As she entered, she tried to maneuver near the small groups of conversations where most people had near to full glasses.  She also walked much more quickly than a servant usually would and did not stop or linger.  Despite that, a few blood elves turned towards her and reached.  She deftly wove and darted past them trying her best to look apologetic so that she wasn’t asked to stop. Finally, she saw Baron Jerar speaking to a much smaller group though still engaged with the Morningstars.  

Merillien approached slowly, giving the group a chance to notice her, or at least the floating tray with drinks.  From her side Lord and Lady Morningstar each reached out to grab champagne.  Oh, bother.  Merillien gracefully eased her way from their reach.  “I apologize, Lord and Lady Morningstar, but perhaps the Lord Baron might be served first?”  Lord Neldrinthor’s face immediately turned red in rage.  Lady Pembraelle just seemed confused. Merillien kept her eyes down, bowed, and slightly rotated the tray as she bent down, so that the poisoned champagne faced him.

Lord Neldrinthor took a quick, ragged breath but Baron Jerar interrupted. “Lord Morningstar, your servants are exquisitely trained.  I’ve rarely been offered such hospitality.”  Please take the right one.  The Baron reached out and grabbed the poisoned flute.  With a quick, concealed feeling of victory, Merillien pivoted, eyes low and still bowed, towards the Lord and Lady Morningstar who both took champagne. Lady Pembraelle seemed utterly pleased at the Baron’s compliments and virtually gushed with appreciation. Lord Neldrinthor frowned at her, but a normal color returned to his face.  As she stood, the Baron drank, lusty eyes smoldering above the glass at Merillien. Despite herself, she flushed under the intensity and intent of his gaze which, in concert with his handsome features and noticeably athletic body, was quite overwhelming.  You’re as bad as Riallen.  He appeared to be amused at the blush that spread across her cheeks and turned back to the Morningstars.  

Merillien, freed of his gaze and her hunt, quickly distributed the rest of the champagne to the guests and fled back to the kitchens.

[ascendantlight]

Favor

               It had been several days since Merillien’s confrontation with the Hearthmistress.  She stayed away from Merillien as she had been told and passed any instructions for Merillien’s daily work through other servants of the House.  Merillien wasn’t sure what Leyrith had told those that had come to her with her list of daily assignments but they were often nervous and seemed to want to leave her presence as quickly as possible. Merillien wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all at first but had since decided that she enjoyed it.  She felt as if she was almost being asked to complete her tasks these days instead of being commanded.  She was still expected to complete the work assigned to her and would probably be punished if she shirked her responsibilities.  But a modicum of deference was now being shown to her from most of the House servants; that suited her just fine.

               Her daily work had not lessened but she did seem to be scheduled around the presence of Hearthmistress Leyrith and often worked in solitude even more than usual these days.  Today was the first time she’d been told to help serve—along with other attendants—a large contingent of guests who would be arriving at the manor later today.  Merillien grimaced at the thought of serving preening, self-important nobles whose entire night would consist of either gossiping, trying to prove how influential they were or bowing and scraping to gain the favor of those with true power. The only upside of being forced to spend an evening around the egotistical nobility was that she’d be able to steal some of the extravagantly delicious hors d’oeuvres that she’d be serving.

               With thoughts of food in her head, Merillien made her way to the laundry and dropped off garments that needed to be laundered and prepared for several lesser members of the House.  She gave specific instructions to the staff as to when each garment was expected and where to deliver them.  As she turned to leave, she noticed the Housemaster entering with Riallen in tow.  Her visceral dislike for the Housemaster had slightly lessened since the realization that he didn’t play an exclusive role in forcing her into service but she still preferred to avoid him if at all possible.  

               Hoping he hadn’t yet seen her, Merillien maneuvered behind several large sheets that were hanging to dry in the room and began moving towards the door.  She peaked around the last set of sheets and saw the Housemaster and Riallen speaking with the laundry attendants, backs turned away from her.  Seeing her chance, she quickly walked towards the door.

               “Merillien.”  She swore under her breath, stopped, and turned around.

               “Housemaster.”  She refused to show him any deference and met his eyes with a stony expression.

               A slow smile spread across his face as he sauntered towards her, unhurried.  The Housemaster was handsome despite his age, his chiseled features barely softened by time and unmarred other than a long, thin scar on his left cheek.  His face was framed with stark white bangs, the rest of his hair brought up into a tight ponytail.  Tall for a blood elf—taller than most everyone else in the House, whether servant or noble—he loomed over her.  With Merillien’s short stature, she had to lift her head to look up at him.  He made her feel like a child.  It was an extremely unpleasant feeling.

               “How have you been?  I haven’t seen you since Eanthra’s… terrible mishap.”  She narrowed her eyes at those last two words, unable to discern whether concern or mock had crept into his voice.  “I have been fine.”

               “Good, good,” he said, nodding, “I was concerned at first but Leyrith said that your wound healed well and that you were back to work shortly after the incident.”  Her wound had been mostly superficial.  It had been quite a burn but didn’t leave any lasting damage, just an ugly scar on her side.

               The Housemaster sighed.  “I’ve been meaning to speak with you.  I’m glad that I caught you before you rushed off.”  He gave her a knowing smile and leaned slightly down towards her. “I hoped that you could do a little favor for me.”

               Merillien’s face turned from stony to suspicious.  “What do you want?”

               “I need help with a dignitary who will be at the reception tonight.”

               “I’m serving at the party tonight, I won’t be able to help.” He’s going to chain me into further service, blackmail me to do his bidding. She turned to leave but the Housemaster reached out and grabbed her arm, pleasant expression unchanged despite the crushing grip with which he held her.  

               “You will be able to help, I assure you.”  He gave her a pointed look.  “You owe me a debt.”  He released her arm and gestured flippantly with his hand.  “Quid pro quo and all that.”

               Merillien wanted to rub the throb in her upper harm but instead leaned forward and said, between her teeth, “I owe you nothing!  I did not ask you for help!”

               “And what would you have done if I had not intervened? Would you have escaped, covered in blood, running past the guard?  Would you have stood there and allowed them to jail and then execute you?  You murdered Eanthra in cold blood.”

               Merillien looked around quickly, making sure no one had heard. Seeing everyone engaged, she leaned back and considered.  What would she have done?  She would rather die than be locked up.  She would have fought or tried to run.  And she guessed that neither of those options would have turned out well, the outcome the same for either.  She guessed there was one outcome in this situation as well.  Merillien huffed and crossed her arms.

               “Fine.  I will return your favor.  And then I owe you no more.  What do you want me to do?”

               He seemed unconvinced by her comment but the smile returned to his face.  “Kill Baron Jerar.”

               “What!?” Merillien looked past the Housemaster and then glanced over her shoulder.  She lowered her voice.  “Shouldn’t we be talking about this someplace else?”

               He chuckled.  “What’s more suspicious, Merillien?  Speaking about this in a noisy room filled with servants in plain sight or secreting off to an unused corner, assured no one would hear us but risking someone running into us?  Trust me.”

               Fat chance.

               “I don’t know if I could kill anyone, let alone a baron.”

               “Nonsense, you did it before and you can do it again.”    

                She scowled.  “But he’s bound to be protected.  How do you expect me to do it, even if I could?”

               “Allow me to qualify my earlier statement, Merillien. I would like you to poison Baron Jerar, who will eventually die tragically and unexpectedly during the night.  You would be facilitating his death but not participating in it as… physically as you did with Eanthra’s.”

               Merillien wasn’t sure what to think.  As she considered it, she honestly thought it a fair trade: her life saved for another taken.  And Jerar was nobility—no real loss there as far as she was concerned. But that didn’t mean that she had a reason to murder him.

               “Why him?”

                The Housemaster shrugged.  “He’s an obstacle in a path that needs to be removed.”

               Merillien furrowed her brow.  “The path of House Morningstar or—“

               “Just do as I ask, girl.”  Any pleasantness had drained from his voice and expression.  “One drop of the poison is potent enough, which is all you have.  It acts slowly and then fades from the blood.  Make sure Baron Jerar is the one poisoned.  I will be exceedingly unhappy if anyone else were to die during the night.”  Their conversation over, he began walking back towards Riallen.

               “The poison!?” Merillien hissed after him.

               The Housemaster sighed wearily and turned.  “You already have it.  The vial is under your belt.”

               Surprised, Merillien reached down, feeling her side and felt a small bump where previously there had been none.  She clenched her jaw, fist wrapped around the vial, petulant anger etching her features.  She stared daggers at the Housemaster’s back as he walked away.  For all that she had felt like a child in his presence, this was the first time she actually looked like one.

[ascendantlight]

Merillien Morningstar

Tagged by: @feldelicious

FILL IN THE QUESTIONS/STATEMENTS AS IF YOU ARE BEING INTERVIEWED FOR AN ARTICLE AND YOU WERE YOUR MUSE.

TAG FIVE PEOPLE TO DO THIS MEME: I don’t have enough people I know on Tumblr yet...

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

“Merillien Morningstar.”

2. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME?

“That is my real name--I am very proud of my House.”

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT?

“Unfortunately, my childhood was short-lived, so I’m not sure.  I wasn’t able to spend much time with my parents.”

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN?

“Taken?  I’ve never much liked that word.  However, I am in a loving relationship.”

5. HAVE ANY ABILITIES OR POWERS?

“I’m exceptionally good at growing various flora.  Have you seen my conservatory?  We’ll stop by after the interview.”

6. STOP BEING A MARY SUE.

“I’m not quite sure what you mean.  But as to whether I stop something, that’s entirely up to me.  I will not be commanded.”

7. WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOR?

“It really depends on what matches my ensemble, dear.  But many years ago I was complimented on how blue my eyes were.”

8. HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOR?

“Why, blone--can’t you see?  Golden as the sun on my House’s crest.”

9. HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS?

“I think our house has hundreds of members now.  It’s awfully difficult keeping track these days.”

10. OH? WHAT ABOUT PETS?

“Another question that’s difficult to answer.  We have a stable full of many mounts.  If you’re asking whether I have a cat, no--we have too many valuable things in the manor.”

11. THAT’S COOL I GUESS, NOW TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE.

“Dismissiveness.  Presumption.  Perhaps consider your phrasing in further questions.”

12. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE DOING?

”As I’ve said, I have a passionate hobby caring for plants of any kind.  My conservatory will demonstrate my zeal.”

13. EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE?

“If I have, I’m sure that they must have deserved it.”

14. EVER….KILLED ANYONE BEFORE?

“I’m shocked you’d ask such a thing!  Of course a House like mine has tragic events that occur over the countless centuries we have been established.  But that you might imply my involvement by simply asking the question is regrettable.”

15. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU?

“Interesting question, I’ve never considered it.  I suppose when it comes down to it, though, am an unwilling animal of politics.”

16. NAME YOUR WORST HABITS.

“A Lady of such a prominent House does not have any bad habits.”

17. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL?

“In the past I did look up to someone.  But it’s been a millennia since I’ve seen him and the last time we met, he did not look hale.”

18. GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL?

“Ugh, this question.  Boorish and only of importance to the short-lived races.”

19. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL?

“No formal schooling in established learning institutions, though I did have a variety of teachers over the years.”

20. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS ONE DAY?

“My dear, I am already married.  And we have many children in our House for which we care.”

21. DO YOU HAVE ANY FANBOYS/FANGIRLS?

“Hmmm... I’m not quite sure.  I am called upon so often by so many--as any influential Lady would be.  But no one in particular stands out.”

22. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF?

“Chains.”

23. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR?

“Oh, my dear, poor interviewer... I don’t recall if I’ve ever wore anything twice!”

24. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE?

"I’m quite fond of Mathrindor.  Yes, I do love someone.”

25. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WET YOURSELF?

“This is highly inappropriate.  Remember what I said about your questions.”

26. WELL, IT’S NOT OVER YET!

“It better be, soon.”

27. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU? (HIGH CLASS, MIDDLE CLASS, LOW CLASS)

“Isn’t it obvious?  You don’t enter one of the grandest Manors in Silvermoon and ask our class status, it simply isn’t couth.”

28. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE?

“I’m friendly with everyone.  It’s called being polite.”

29. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE?

“Mmmm... I’m not very fond of sweets.”

30. FAVOURITE DRINK?

“It depends on the time of day, but tea is best to drink with company and friends.”

31. WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE PLACE?

“As I’m sure you could deduce if you weren’t reading out these questions by rote, my conservatory is where I tend to be happiest.”

32. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE~

"No one in particular, my interest is wide and varied.”

33. WHAT’S YOUR BRA CUP SIZE AND/OR HOW BIG IS YOUR WILLY?

"I am perfectly proportionate to my size.  Move on.”

34. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN?

“I’d prefer to be in a boat or ship manned by servants.”

35. WHAT’S YOUR TYPE?

“I haven’t thought about that in years.  I’m set in my ways; Lord Mathrindor is a very good example, though.”

36. ANY FETISHES?

“Next question.”

37. SEME OR UKE? TOP OR BOTTOM? DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE?

"Variety, my dear.  Variety.”

38. CAMPING OR INDOORS?

“If, for some reason, I had to camp, a retinue of forty to sixty servants, several expedition planners and, oh, four to five carts worth of personal items of comfort would do just fine.”

39. ARE YOU WANTING THE QUIZ TO END?

“Yes.  Now, I’ll lead you to the conservatory!  It’s full of many plants, some very exotic.  You see, friends over the years have made it a point of gifting flora they find on their travels.  My most recent acquisition is an acorn from Moonglade, which I was told was touched by the Emerald Dream... ”

[ascendantlight]

Voidguard

((From the captivatingly clever mind of @feldelicious​, it’s my pleasure to present the Voidguard. ))

The Dealer’s Words: “I do hope to find a good many eager to betray everything they love and adore just for the chance to serve such an appropriate Master.”

              “Through sacrifice we gain strength. We must treasure every wound,

                                relive every memory of pain.”

                -Ja’nira the Bonecarver, instructing a novice Extractor

Keep reading

[ascendantlight]

Nemesis

[ascendantlight]

Truth

               Merillien slammed the door open with a resounding whack, startling both Hearthmistress Leyrith and the other female blood elf in the room. Merillien recognized her briefly as the cook and her former overseer, but she couldn’t care less.

               Merillien leveled her gaze at the cook.

               “Get out.”

               “Excuse me?  I shall do no such—“

               “Leave now or I’ll drag you out.”

               “Who do you think you are, you little bitch?”

               Merillien stalked towards the cook who began to scramble from her seat, alarmed.

               “Kailenna,” Leyrith said, wide eyes never leaving Merillien, “Please leave us, Merillien must have something important to tell me.”

               The cook, who had backed both her chair and herself to the wall by then in her attempt to avoid Merillien, looked quickly at Leyrith.  The Housemistress nodded, staring at the blatantly angry youth who had barged into the room. The cook huffed, then pushed between Merillien and the table she’d been sitting at, sneering at Merillien all the way.

               At the doorway, the cook turned.  “I’ll return within the hour.  We can discuss expen—“ Merillien slammed the door shut in the cook’s face before she was able to finish her sentence.

               “Merillien, you were very disrespectful to Kailenna.”

               “You lied to me.”

               Leyrith’s brow furrowed with a look of questioning concern.  “Merillien, I’ve never lied to you.”

               “You told me that the Housemaster took me from my family.”

               “He did.  I was here the day you arrived, remember?”

               Merillien banged her fist on the desk.  “Stop it!  I know that I was given freely and sold into servitude!”

               Leyrith’s eyes welled with tears as she looked down at her lap, avoiding Merillien’s gaze.  “I… I never lied, Merillien, I was trying to protect you from the truth.”

               “Protect me?” Merillien said, contemptuously.  “You didn’t protect me from the truth, you dragged me from it!  You had always avoided my questions as to how I came here.  ‘Let’s not talk about that day,’ ‘It was so long ago, don’t think about that,’ ‘The Housemaster chose you,’ ‘The Housemaster took you,’ ‘Don’t worry, child!’” Merillien bent down near Leyrith’s face, yelling, “‘DON’T THINK ABOUT IT!’”

               Leyrith, head low, had begun openly crying during the barrage of quotes with which she attempted to placate Merillien’s questions as a child. Sobbing, she looked up pitifully at Merillien.  “I was only trying to do what was best.  What is a child to think upon learning that their mother had chosen to sell them?  It was a truth that was best hidden.”  

               “It wasn’t your truth to hide, Leyrith!”

                Leyrith put her hand on Merillien’s arm, who was still bent towards her.  “You remind me so much of myself.  I wanted to protect you.”

               Merillien looked at her with disgust and shook Leyrith’s hand from her arm.  “I never wanted your protection.  I’m nothing like you and never will be.”

               Merillien walked towards the door, opened it and stopped. She turned her head and spoke over her right shoulder.  “Stay away from me, Leyrith. Stay out of my way or you’ll regret it.”  She banged the door shut one last time. 

[ascendantlight]

Knowing

              She skulked about the manor, wary.  It was the middle of the morning and the sun shone through the windows leaving very few places to hide. Regardless, she moved as quickly and stealthily as she could throughout the halls.  Since the death of Eanthra she wasn’t only avoiding nobility as best she could—she also desperately wanted to avoid the Housemaster.  Little concerned her other than him, lately, although she hadn’t seen him since he stood near Eanthra’s corpse, several months ago.

                Merillien was fearful of his return, of the next time they’d meet.  After the Housemaster’s description of events, there was no blame attributed to her and little suspicion other than a concerned or thoughtful look from the guards. She didn’t know why he’d spoken out and wasn’t sure she cared; only one question constantly nagged at her: what does he want?

               She’d gone back to her duties the very next day.  Hearthmistress Leyrith had tearfully pleaded with her to rest and recover from the horrible, tragic incident but she refused.  She’d told Leyrith that she had to work in order to keep her mind off of Eanthra’s death.  In reality, though, she didn’t need to recover or keep her mind occupied. As far as she was concerned, Eanthra’s death was deserved and far from a “horrible incident.”  In fact, she considered it rather wonderful. Merillien smiled and ducked into one of her assigned rooms.

               The room, much to her delight, was unused the previous night.  During the past few months she had begun—without permission—to manage her job more efficiently. If the nobility or guests hadn’t used a room the previous night she didn’t bother replacing everything.  She began tidying up as little as possible, slowly wiping down the furniture.

               “Merillien.”

               She jumped in surprise and turned, quickly grabbing a small desktop statuette that was in front of her.  As she recognized the figure in the doorway, the shock flew from Merillien, replaced by angry annoyance.  She slammed the statuette back on the tabletop in front of her.

               “Riallen, you idiot!  You scared the life from me!”

               Riallen, as shocked as Merillien had been a few moments ago, blushed in embarrassment.

               “I was very close to throwing that statuette at your head!  When did you learn to move so quietly?”

               “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to startle you.” He looked down, hands fidgeting. “But you’re not the only one who wants to remain out of sight.”

               Merillien scoffed.  “Out of sight to everyone but the male guardsmen.”  Riallen’s blush deepened.  She rolled her eyes and returned to dusting, “Honestly, Riallen, get ahold of yourself.”

               “The Housemaster is back.”

               Merillien stopped cleaning and slowly turned to regard the young blood elf.  “When?”

               “Mere minutes ago.  I helped remove the Housemaster’s things from the carriage. I slipped off afterwards to tell you that he arrived, like you asked.”

               “Carriage?  Did he have children with him?”

               “Wait—what?” Riallen asked, confused.  “No.  Is that why you wanted to know when he’d arrived?

               Merillien breathed out a sigh of relief.  “No, not for that reason.  When you said he’d arrived in a carriage I thought you meant the one that we rode here when he took us from our families.”

               “It wasn’t that carriage—he did come back with a lot more than what he left with, though.  Honestly, I’m surprised you even remembered that trip, you never mention it.”

               “I never mention it because there’s nothing to say.”  Merillien began collecting her cleaning tools and soiled linens from the other rooms.  “We were children, the Houstmaster chose us, stole us from our families and brought us here to work as slaves.”

               “I wouldn’t say that he stole us, Merillien,” Riallen softly replied.

               Merillien threw down the things she’d been gathering to the floor and stared angrily at Riallen.  “Are you defending him, Riallen?” Merillien’s voice rose almost to a shout.  “You never did have a spine but to defend him? He brought us here, away from everything we knew and forced us to work for these so-called nobles!”

               “I’m not defending him but the blame isn’t his alone!”  Riallen’s hands were fists at his side and his face was red.  “Where is this obsession coming from, Merillien?  You want to know where the Housemaster is, when he’ll return, what he’s doing.  I don’t understand why you have this sudden hatred for him.  What is going on?”

               Merillien’s anger dulled at that question.  It was one she wanted to avoid because it could lead to further questions about Eanthra’s murder.  “I have no respect for a blood elf that has the power to remove children from their homes and turn them into servants.”

               “Remove children from their homes?”  Riallen responded, bitterly.  “I was happily driven from my home, Merillien.  You were driven from your home as well.  Your parents wouldn’t have sold you to the Morningstars, otherwise.”

               “What?”  

               Riallen looked up, surprised, hands relaxing at his side.  “We weren’t just taken, Merillien, we were given to the Morningstars.  I stayed awake at night for weeks listening to my parents talk about what they would do with the money if I was chosen.”

               Merillien looked at the ground, eyes unfocused, her features incredulous.  “No. You never told me.”  She looked up at Riallen and approached him.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

               “I thought you knew Merillien, we never talked about that day after we arrived.”  Merillien brushed past Riallen, pushing him out of the way and broke into a run down the hallway, forgetting her duties.  Riallen’s voice followed her as she fled down the hall, “I thought you knew!”

[ascendantlight]

The rendering, if not entirely accurate, is at least flatteringly enticing, Madame Bloodeye.  But perhaps I'm accounting for artistic license? 

Elf Problems

Her face was neutral as she stared down her employee, what was his name? Snik Rocketsaw? “Foreman Lizzix is dead? That is unfortunate. And the killer was … you said he died doing..  ..caught him doing WHAT? ” She held up the picture he handed her, suddenly pleased that she had chosen today of all days to wear thick felweave gloves. Her cheeks darkened to purple as she regarded the glossy image of… herself.  “This is…where did he get … well, that’s just …unrealistic. First of all…“ And she frowned, and struggled for things to object to, or at least pretend to. ”…I’d -never- wear that shade of lipstick.“

NSFW ART BELOW~~~~~

Keep reading

[ascendantlight]

Reb’kah

Here’s the winner of the giveaway, at long last. This is probably one of my favorite pieces. I had a blast with the sparkly eye shadow and gems.

My art || Commissions || Mugshot comms

[ascendantlight]

Inspection

               The tasks were mind numbing.  Merillien had considered working in the kitchens boring but at least there was bustle, some light conversation, outbursts from the cook and the occasional stolen treat.  As a chambermaid she was isolated, scurrying from room to room in silence and remaining out of sight. Dusting, collecting and then supplying linens, making beds, washing windows, cleaning floors… Why did something that was cleaned yesterday—which hadn’t been touched—need to be cleaned today? She was sure it was a form of slow, painless torture meant to break the mind.

               The days were long.  She woke up early to prepare the dining hall with a few other servants before the Morningstar family arrived for their morning meal.  Then, while they were eating, she would clean her assigned rooms, scrambling to finish before they came back upstairs. She only had the privilege of running into nobility a few times.  Her first interaction occurred when a young man burst through the doors of a bedroom she was cleaning, body entangled with the Lord and Lady Morningstar’s daughter.  When they saw her, motionless and eyes averted, they had the decency to leave after a sharp threat to her life.  She was not so lucky the second time she encountered nobility—two visiting dignitaries entered the room and stayed in it for an hour, talking.  She had no choice but to remain on her knees the entire time. Since then she had become an expert at listening to the sounds of the house and the routine paths of the Morningstar’s.  She was determined not to be seen or trapped in a room with them again.

               Her days ended after she served the late evening meal to the more senior servants of the house.  Pleasantly, that had become a much less arduous task than it first was.  This was mostly due to the fact that the Housemaster had been absent for months. She learned that he was often running errands, had dinner alone or ate privately with Lord Morningstar, conducting business.  She had no desire to be near or even look at him.

               Even Eanthra had left her alone recently.  As the new attendant to Lady Pembrealle, Eanthra was privy to a wide range of gossip, which she disseminated with obvious pleasure to anyone who would listen.  Hearthmistress Leyrith was practically spellbound during dinner these days listening to Eanthra’s scandalous accounts of Silvermoon’s goings-on, regardless of whether they held any grain of truth or basis in reality.  It seemed that Eanthra had finally found something to engross her attention and keep her preoccupied from bullying the younger servants. Which is why Merillien was so surprised to find Eanthra in her room the next day.

               She stopped at the open door and saw Eanthra sitting on her bed, looking down at her lap and fumbling with something in her hands.  The knife Merillien had hid within her mattress was lying next to her.  As Merillien stepped through the threshold of the small room, Eanthra looked up.

               “Merillien,” she smiled, mischievously.  “I didn’t know you had so many secrets.”

               Merillien’s vision darkened, the scene blurring in front of her eyes.  She blinked several times until her eyes could focus again and slowly asked, “Eanthra, what are you doing in my room?”

               “Just an inspection.  Lady Pembrealle has very high standards for her House.  What would she do if she knew chamber maids were hiding weapons in their mattresses?”

               Eanthra stood, sighing, her feigned concern mocking. “You really have done it this time, Merillien.  This is worse than the night they found you trying to run away.”  She scoffed.  “And why you wanted to, I’ll never know.”

               She walked to the middle of the room where Merillien stood.  “You’ll have to take the knife downstairs and tell the Hearthmistress what you’ve done.”

               Merillien gave Eanthra a cold stare, jaw set and anger rising.  Eanthra gave her a pointed look and after a few moments, Merillien finally moved past her towards the bed and carefully picked up the knife.

               “And I think I’ll keep this.”

               Merillien turned to see that Eanthra wore the necklace her mother had given her as a child, which she had very carefully hidden in the room.  She had smuggled it with her the day she was brought to House Morningstar.  When she was in the group of children being selected for the House she thought they were there to take her valuables, not to take her.  The necklace wasn’t worth anything.  Neither was it some precious token of love or cherished remembrance to her; she didn’t cry over it at night, making unrealistic wishes.  But it was hers. It belonged to her.  And she couldn’t say that about anything else in this world.

                At the sight of the necklace being worn by Eanthra, something shattered within Merillien.  Calm flooded her mind.  She smiled at Eanthra and walked towards her.  Then Merillien drove the dagger into Eanthra’s right eye as hard as she could.

               Eanthra screamed, a primal screech that sent thrilling shivers down Merillien’s spine.  It’s mine.  Eanthra moved her hand and shrieked a word.  Flame leaped from her fingers, slamming into Merillien’s side, scorching her.  Merillien grunted in pain, doubling over but pushing Eanthra to fall with her to the ground. Merillien removed the dagger from the eye socket and stabbed Eanthra again, aimlessly, this time through her cheek and tongue.  Eanthra screamed once more, blood gurgling in her throat.  The necklace is mine.

               Merillien began wildly piercing Eanthra with her weapon, not caring where the blows landed.  Blood splashed on her face, in her hair.  Merillien was unaware of how long her onslaught lasted—at some point Eanthra ceased screaming—but she stopped when she could no longer recognize Eanthra’s features.  She pulled the necklace free, wiping the gore from her brow.

               “Messy.”

               Merillien’s head snapped up to see the Housemaster, leaning against the threshold, his right leg crossing his left.  Shocked, she lunged forward in abandon, knife in hand, but was instantly thrown across the room, crashing against the wall and landing on the bed.  She realized she no longer held the blade and began to frantically search for it.

               “Looking for this?”  The Housemaster dangled the knife from his left hand.  As she watched him in despair she heard the familiar boots of House soldiers in the stone halls.  “Keep your mouth shut, girl.”

               At the lead of the soldiers was Hearthmistress Leyrith, who ran into the room, gasped and immediately backpedaled.  She ran into a soldier in her rush and would have fallen had the soldier not caught her.

               “Get yourself together Leyrith, don’t embarrass yourself,” the Housemaster sneered, derision dripping from every word.

               The soldier holding Leyrith surveyed the room with wide eyes.  “What… what happened?”

               “Merillien was attacked by Eanthra.”

               Leyrith swooned again, falling further into the soldier’s arms.  The Housemaster, out of patience, grasped her arm with one hand and lifted her bodily to a standing position.

               Another soldier kneeled down, examining the corpse. “This woman has terrible injuries.  It looks…”

               “A spell blew up in her face, captain.  I was near and ran to the room as soon as I heard Merillien scream from being blasted by Eanthra’s first spell.  I heard her second spell fail catastrophically. When it did, Merillien saw an opportunity and attacked.  Had she not placed her blow so well, Eanthra might have gotten off another spell despite her self-inflicted injury and Merillien’s corpse would be the one that you’re now examining.” The Housemaster grunted.  “Eanthra was a terrible spellcaster and it’s finally proved to be her doom.”

               “But the chamber maid is covered in blood.”

               Merillien remained still, confused as to what was unfolding.

               “Have you ever seen a spell go bad, Captain Artori?”

               “No, Housemaster.”

               “Then don’t question me.  The girl is covered in blood from whatever arcane blast Eanthra misfired.”

               The captain shook his head in agreement, though not entirely convinced.  “As you say, Housemaster.”

               The Housemaster turned to Leyrith, who was quietly sobbing and shaking her head with eyes closed as if to forget the sight of Eanthra’s dead, mangled body.

               “Leyrith, Merillien must be in shock.  Take her to the baths and clean her up.  Don’t allow her to speak, her mind is rattled at the moment.  After the baths, find a room for her and put her to bed.”

               Leyrith stared forward, nodding.

               “Leyrith!” the Houstmaster snapped. “Do you understand?”

               Leyrith’s reply was a whisper but the Housemaster had apparently heard it.

               “Good, take her.”

               Leyrith walked towards Merillien, shaking.  As she took Merillien by the shoulders and led her towards the baths the Housemaster leaned down next to Merillien’s short frame and whispered in her ear, “Do be less conspicuous next time.” 

[ascendantlight]

What are your character's goals in life? (Answer as Anza or Merillien?)

Merillien seeks many things in life but, first and foremost, she wants freedom for herself and others (or thinks she does). And she feels that she can give that freedom to others when she holds power. The more power she holds, the more freedom provided. One problem is, in order to hold power she needs people to serve her. The other might be that she considers freeing people from their mortal coil is equally as justifiable, especially when they disagree with her.

[ascendantlight]

Mask

                               Lady Merillien of House Morningstar smiled as she stroked the velvet of the dress.  It was exactly as she had imagined it when she sent in her commission to the finest tailors in Silvermoon.  The velvet was exquisite: a purple so deep, so dark that if the fabric had not been enchanted it would merely appear black.  The magic of the cloth, however, allowed light to reflect off of it at certain angles instead of simply being absorbed, reflecting both normal light and revealing its true, stygian amethyst.

               The dress was perfectly cut for a masquerade.  It had a large flowing skirt worn with a hoop to give it body, long fitted sleeves with laced cuffs, a high, stiff collar and a window cut from the upper chest to reveal her décolletage.  I will have to write a personal letter of thanks along with payment; it’s perfect.

               “It’s wonderful, Riallen.”

               “I hoped that you would say so, Lady.”

               Merillien rolled her eyes at him.  She didn’t understand why he had to address her as Lady—they had known each other since youth!  It did seem odd to many, both inside and outside of House Morningstar, that she had a male servant to attend her instead of the traditional female.  But Merillien trusted few people and he was one of them. That, coupled with the fact that his sexual orientation was well known to her, had made her decision easy.  His sexuality wasn’t a secret and she didn’t bother to actively hide it—but it amused her that so many assumed he was her lover and that she was so absolutely brazen about it.  It amused her even more how advantageous that false assumption was. And, therefore, she simply chose not to correct anyone.

               “How are preparations coming for the masquerade?”

               “The invitations have been sent out and several menus have been suggested for approval, Lady.”

               “Stop that right now, Riallen.”  She shot him a firm look over her shoulder.  “I mean it.”

               Sighing, Riallen walked to the dress to hang it as Merillien sat down at her vanity.  He also bent down and retrieved the mask, for which the dress had been expressly commissioned.  The mask was wide and its ornate sides flared to either side of its eyes, like the wings of a raptor alighting on its prey.

               “Merillien, what is this mask?  You spent a fortune having a dress made just so you could wear it at a masquerade.”

               “Well worth the fortune, my dear.  You’ve seen the results.”

               “Yes, but what is its meaning to you to justify the expense?”

               She turned from the mirror on her stool to face him.  The question would have posed quite a problem for her had it not been Riallen openly criticizing her decisions.  Instead, she seemed to inwardly retreat, reflective.

               “My former Master used to tell me a story.  He said it was an ancient fable, older than I could imagine, before the Great Sundering.” Merillien shook her head and looked down.  “Whether that is the case or not, I don’t think I’ll ever know.  He spoke of the elves of old, their great civilization, the lavish city of Zin-Azshari and the mighty power they held.  Because of this, they feared little but, he said, this story remained.  He spoke of dark portent, a fairy dragon of shadow and darkness, unlike those that protect the Emerald Dream.  Whether a warning of impending calamity or a harbinger of death, to see it was one’s doom. He said they appeared to many Highborne before the Sundering, a foreboding, which almost all ignored.”

               She looked up at Riallen, eyes sharpened and impassioned.  “I don’t remember much, he used to tell me stories during training in order to distract me.  I would be severely punished when I lost focus, so most of what he said was only vague impressions.  But I remember this:

                               If shadow dragon, day or night

                               Do cross thy path in sleep or sight

                               Beware thy doings, heed their might

                               Though fast you run, there is no flight

               Merillien turned again to her vanity and began to set out various cosmetics that may match the masquerade gown.  

               Riallen cleared his throat.  “Are these meant to be the wings of the fairy dragon, then?”

               Merillien chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I fancy them to be so.” Merillien cocked her head in thought. Should I add color to my hair as well?  Nothing permanent, of course.

               The servant turned and finished hanging the dress in the armoire and carefully placed the mask in its case, also tucking it away.

               “There is also the matter of the art show, Merillien.  Madame Bloodeye has chosen the pieces to be displayed.  Some of them are… some may be controversial.”

               Lady Morningstar looked at Riallen in her mirror, and leaned forward with a large smile blooming on her face.  “Really?”

               “Nothing too shocking from their descriptions but certainly out of the norm.”

               Merillien giggled in delight.  “I would prefer shocking, frankly!  I do so love to watch reactions on stuffy Blood Elf nobility when confronted with something they deem unseemly.”

               “It will be odd explaining that an orc has curated the exhibit.”

               “Then don’t put that on the invitations, Riallen.  Simply say that the exhibit has been curated by Madame Bloodeye on the invitation of House Morningstar and be done with it.  No one needs know who it is, though I daresay those that have already met her will most assuredly come.”

               “May I ask where you heard of her?”

               Merillien began to powder her nose.  “She was suggested to me by someone with whom I deal.”

               Riallen frowned. He knew most of her contacts other than one, one that he didn’t want to meet and would prefer that Merillien didn’t, either.  He didn’t trust the Bargains the Dealer struck or their terms.

               “She’s quite fascinating, you know,” she continued.  “When we met at Zemira’s ball I found out she’s engaged to a Trade Prince!  How she managed that, I’d love to know.  My contacts say that she’s even coming out well in the engagement negotiations.  An orc.  And with a Trade Prince, no less!  I’ve heard rumors of a goblin prince that slit his mother’s throat in order to guarantee a few percent profit for his fleets.  Whoever she is, she’s obviously capable.”  She grimaced.  “The only score against her is that Anza was with her the first time we met. But no one is perfect.”

               “Would you like to see the list of art chosen and their descriptions?”

               “And ruin the surprise?  Nonsense. I’ll leave it to Reb’kah.  Will you take care of the pieces when they arrive and help Madame Bloodeye with the space?”

               “Of course.”

               “Excellent.  Now, will you fetch some hair powders?  I think I’d like to try a few colors and see what I like.”

               Riallen nodded and walked out of the room.

[ascendantlight]

Promotion

               Merillien moved gracefully—well, as gracefully as she could—through the servants hall while balancing a tray with various dishes on it. Hearthmistress Leyrith had finally chosen to give her a promotion from scullery maid to chamber maid.  She also had the new privilege of serving meals to the more senior servants of House Morningstar.  Leyrith insisted that this would give her practice for more important duties in the presence of the Lord and Lady Morningstar and their guests of nobility. Merillien knew Leyrith meant well by her but she didn’t think this was much of a promotion; she also couldn’t care less about nobility or the Lord and Lady, let alone serving them.

               As Merillien passed a chair to walk towards the head of the table, the chair jumped backwards unexpectedly in her path.  She nearly walked into it but quickly swayed to the side.  Unable to avoid the chair completely, she bumped into its back the dishes clattered loudly on the tray.  She didn’t drop any platters or fall flat on her face, though, so Merillien considered it a small victory.  She lowered the tray and looked to her right across the table at Eanthra, giving her a flat, cold stare.

               “Merillien, you really should be more careful,” Eanthra said, looking up briefly from inspecting the nails of her right hand.

               Leyrith cleared her throat.  “Eanthra, stop your foolishness this instant.”

               The Lady’s maid looked up, “What?  I didn’t do anything, Hearthmistress.  Merillien is clumsy.”  She turned her gaze towards Merillien and glared at her.

               “You most certainly did do something,” House Mage Zendrin said as he walked through the door into the hall.  “I was in a wholly different room and could have seen and heard your clumsy cantrip even had I suddenly been struck blind and deaf.”

               Eanthra blushed and looked away, breaking her glare. That’ll shut her up, Merillien thought as she quickly adjusted her sleeves and began to lay the meal out for the senior staff.  She never did understand why Eanthra disliked her so much but she had been picking on her one way or another over the fifty years that she’d been here.  Eanthra was her senior, though only by a century or so.  She was much, much younger than any of the other important servants of House Morningstar and recently promoted to tending the great Lady Pembrealle Morningstar herself.  She picked on the other children that had come to the manor with Merillien as well but Eanthra’s focus always seemed to be on her.  It didn’t help that Leyrith always seemed to be there protecting her—that simply increased Eanthra’s animosity towards her. Merillien had asked her to stop intervening but Leyrith couldn’t seem to help herself.  She tried to explain that Eanthra’s taunts really didn’t bother her—Eanthra had neither cunning nor subtlety, which made her and her childish schemes easily avoidable for the most part.  She knew there were other, more dangerous people in the House with which she should be concerned.

               Merillien stepped back when she was done, gave a quick, perfunctory curtsy to those around the table and began to walk out of the hall.  She stopped suddenly as she saw a tall male enter the room and quickly survey those sitting at the table.  The servants all rose from their seats and mumbled “Housemaster” with their heads lowered.  His gaze fell on Merillien, which spurred her to move forward, continuing out of the room. Walking towards him, she refused to avert her eyes from his while also struggling to keep her face emotionless. As she passed him she felt a sharp sting in her shoulder, but she neither jumped nor flinched.  She would not give Eanthra the satisfaction.  More importantly, she would not give the elf that stole her childhood away the satisfaction.

               Merillien worked her way through the corridors back to the kitchen to drop off of the tray, brooding along the way.  Thankfully, it was not her duty to clean up after the meal so there was no way for her to run into him again.  While in the kitchen she grabbed a role of bread and several large chunks of roasted quail and ran off to her room before anyone saw her.   When she arrived, she closed the door, ate and took out the knife that she had carefully hidden in the sleeves of her blouse when she was setting out the food in the servants hall.  Eanthra’s little trick had put all focus on her, which had given Merillien the chance to slip it away while everyone’s attention was otherwise distracted.

               It was a short knife and not terribly sharp—more for cutting off hunks of bread than for slitting throats—but it would have to do.  Maybe I could find somewhere to hone the blade during my duties cleaning the bedrooms tomorrow… but that would mean I’d have to take it with me.  Merillien sighed.  Better to find an opportunity when I won’t be watched.  She bent down to the mattress and cut a few of its stitchings with the knife to create a large enough hole to slip the knife within.  As she did so, she heard someone approaching from outside.  She hurriedly shoved the knife inside, arranged the sheets and sat on the bed.

               “Ah, there you are, child,” Leyrith said as she opened the door.  “I thought I’d find you in the kitchens.”

               “I grabbed a snack and ran here.  I’m tired and thought I would retire early.”

               “And how are your new duties?”  Leyrith took a comb from the basket she was carrying and sat down near Merillien at the edge of the bed.

               “They’re fine, Hearthmistress,” Merillien replied as Leyrith began to comb her hair.

               “Such golden hair! Ah, you remind me so much of me when I was younger—we look so similar.  Like the daughter I never had.”  Leyrith gently patted her head and ran her hand down the length of her hair, feeling its softness.

               Merillien grimaced as Leyrith continued to groom her, humming the same lilting tune that she did every night.  Merillien looked nothing like Leyrith—her hair was white, her skin pallid, she stood a hand taller and had close set eyes that flanked a wide nose.  No, Merillien looked nothing like Leyrith, even had she had golden hair in her youth.  

               It was the same ritual every night, the same words, the same hummed tune.  And Merillien hated it.  She hated that Leyrith had taken such a liking to her and that she insisted doting upon her in private.  She didn’t care if Leyrith thought of her as a daughter.  Despite all of her kindness she was not Merillien’s mother and she was not searching for a replacement.  She allowed Leyrith’s attentions because doing otherwise would not be advantageous. She could survive in House Morningstar without Leyrith’s doting kindness but what would be the point to alienate the only person who cared for her, however misguided?  And so Merillien endured.

                After several minutes, Leyrith stopped and began gathering her things. “Do you remember what to do if a member of the House comes upon you during your duties tomorrow?”

                “Yes, Hearthmistress.  Stop what I’m doing, remain still and keep my eyes downcast.”

                 Leyrith smiled.  “Such a good girl.  Sleep well, dear.”

                 The arcane source of light blinked out as the door was closed to her small room.  Merillien lay down, her head above the small blade hidden safely in the mattress. She smiled.  But it vanished from her face as soon as she heard the familiar click of the lock on her door.