smolbeansnook

[smolbeansnook]

Isolation

Alone, as he’s always wanted.

Cold, what agrees with him most.

A chilling solitary confinement of his own will.

A king sits upon a throne of regrets.

A king gazes upon a white wasteland speckled in crimson.

A king watches his breath mingle with a frozen air and disperse to nothingness.

Nothingness, as is his kingdom.

Nothingness, as is her vessel.

A lady cannot see her breath in a night so dark.

A lady gazes upon an abyss of endless possibilities.

A lady sits upon a ship of promise.

A home she desired to run from.

Cold, what she’s learned to harness.

Alone, a fate worse than death.

- -

A/N: My creative writing class has had us delve into poetry. I was given an assignment to write a poem based off of another art form. I took a look at some art of World of Warcraft and ended up finding a lot of inspiration from Arthas and Jaina. I liked it enough to post it here. ^-^ I���m leaving the poem for interpretation.

[smolbeansnook]

Humbug

   Kaylyn pets the cats when she’s sad.

   It’s the holiday season, honestly. Don’t get her wrong, Kay loves Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Halloween’s special because she gets to throw on a costume and sit on the front steps outside her apartment door, a bowl of bite-sized candies in her lap while children race up and down the concrete pathway to greet her. Sure, her costume isn’t the best or the flashiest every year (2016, she dressed as Darkwing Duck and all she had to show for it was a black cape and some sort of crappy plastic duck beak mask), and sure, she doesn’t have the full-sized bars of candy because, let’s be honest, she’s not made of money and the budget’s tight, and sure, she doesn’t always have the world’s best Halloween decorations on display by her windows.

   These factors, however, don’t deter her from handing out Reese’s, Snickers and Milky Ways to the next Captain America or Harry Potter that wanders up to her bowl. Kay likes to make kids smile. She likes watching the parents take pictures.

   Thanksgiving is a little tougher, but not so bad. Last year, Kay made the mistake of trying to cook her own turkey in the oven and nearly burned her apartment down, so this year, she bought thirty dollars worth of Popeyes and ate it all by herself while she FaceTimed with her brother and watched A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. Bucky, her retired German shepherd that she adopted when she first joined Steelheart City’s police force, lay his big head on her left thigh and gazed at his owner with large, sad brown eyes until he was inevitably given the handouts he worked oh so hard for. Kay gets to talk to Kaelan and that’s all swell, she can’t really complain.

   Christmas, however… Christmas is the holiday that hits her the hardest. It’s the one time of year that Kay misses her parents the most. Her father enlisted in the air force and had been shot down after maybe two years of active duty. Her mother initially survived a collision including her tiny Subaru and a semi-truck, but didn’t make it to the hospital with a heartbeat. Kay’s last family Christmas was fourteen years ago, when she was six years old and her papa gifted her a brand new pair of red sneakers for soccer. Now, her parents are six feet under with only pictures and graves left behind. Her twin brother is off at some expensive college and spending Christmas with some broad that he thinks just might be his true love. Kay’s uncle, who’s not really her uncle but did help raise her, is spending Christmas with his own family in the other side of the country, and Kay couldn’t follow him because, well, she’s a cop, and cops stay home.

   Kay decorates her Christmas tree alone. She buys presents alone. She listens to holiday music alone. She sticks a bow on Bucky’s head and takes a picture for social media alone. Before that, however, Kay goes to the pet shop to see if she can’t find anything to buy her old dog for Christmas, and that’s when she usually finds the kitties in their cages toward the front of the store, waiting to be adopted.

   So, yeah. Kaylyn pets the cats when she’s sad. She’s sure that she’s bothered the owner by coming in almost every single day for the last week, but she just couldn’t help herself.. “Oh, I’m just taking another look at that collar for old Buck,” she’d say, and then stroll casually over to the cages by the windows and reach through the arm-holes to pet soft fur and fuzzy ears. The owner didn’t have the heart to tell her to buy what she wants and leave, because it’s Christmas, and the only person who can be that heartless on Christmas is Scrooge, and he’s a story. Or at least, Kay’s pretty sure Scrooge is just a story. Oh man, what if Scrooge was based on a real person who hates Christmas, and then saw ghosts? Who hates Christmas, anyway?! Wait, Kay, stay focused. Pet the cats.

   “Humbug.”

   A sudden, single spoken word snapped Kay out of her trance of sad thoughts and Christmas ponderings. Blinking her blue eyes, she now noticed that she switched from petting the black and white kitty to petting the brown and peach kitty. The feline’s fur was soft beneath her fingertips. A long-hair, for sure, but Kay had no idea what breed the cat is. The young woman used her free hand to gently tuck her ebony hair behind her ear, and as she did so, she turned her body just slightly to look over her shoulder.

   Behind her, only a few feet away, there stood a rather tall man in the petshop’s work uniform. The uniform came with a rather ridiculous-looking bright yellow vest and blue trousers, but the clothes weren’t what struck Kay as odd. It was the hair. The man had vibrant blue hair, and even worse, vibrant blue eyebrows. She couldn’t tell if this employee had dyed his hair such an unnatural color, or if he was born with some horrific color-changing mutation. After a few moments of simply staring at the employee, Kay realized she finally hadn’t spoken yet. In her sudden effort to think of something to say, all she could muster up was,

   “What?”

   “The cat.” The man smiled, taking a small step closer to the cages - and by extension Kay - and gestured to the cat the woman was petting with a long, slender finger. “Humbug. That’s his name.”

   Kay’s lashes fluttered as she blinked in momentary confusion, allowing her gaze to drift from the employee’s finger toward the cage. The cat sat on the other side, her green eyes now staring up at the woman with confusion, as if the kitty was wondering why the human had stopped petting her. Kay’s brain took a few moments to process what she was being told, and then, finally, it clicked.

   “Oh! Humbug!” The woman’s eyes lit up and she began to softly laugh, although anyone could have guessed that her laughter was born from nervousness. “Who would ever give a cat that name? Or any animal?”

   Kay let her gaze drift back to the employee’s face, only to notice that the man was smiling a little wider than before. “It’s not the most terrible name to give an animal.” The man’s voice, combined with his appearance, led Kay to believe that he might have been in his mid twenties, maybe just barely shy of twenty-five. He continued, “We once got a rottweiler named Hades in the store. Nicest dog I’ve ever met. I spent ten minutes of my shift feeding him treats while his owner went outside to smoke.”

   Kay’s smile, previously faint and polite, soon transitioned to something a little more genuine. She giggled - sincerely this time - and slowly withdrew her hand from Humbug’s fur. “Is that right?”

   “That’s right.” The employee nodded. Kay noticed the man’s eyes following the movement of her hand, although his gaze soon returned to her face. Once again, he smiled at her. “Were you considering adopting one of our furry friends, here? Humbug’s the oldest, been here the longest, and she needs a good home.”

   “Oh, no, I couldn’t.” Kay immediately chimed, trying to ignore the guilt slowly creeping up the back of her head. “I mean, I’d love to, but, uh… I’ve got a shepherd at home and I’m not sure how well he’d do with cats.”

   The employee, again, gave a slow nod, his expression unwavering. “Part of my job here at Elenclaw Pets is to stroll on over to this neck of the store and convince you to adopt, but… that isn’t necessarily why I’m standing here.” Finally, the man’s smile flickered, faltering just slightly. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you petting the cats this week.”

   Kay could immediately feel every muscle in her body tense up, anxiousness washing through her mind like waves crashing on the surface of a wide, dark ocean. “Are you kicking me out? Look man, I’m sorry, I know I come here all the time and never actually buy a cat or a toy or anything, it’s just…” As Kay trailed off, she suddenly found herself at a loss for words. What was she supposed to tell this man? The employee stood there, patiently waiting for the young woman to finish her sentence. Kay knew she owed the man something, some sort of actual response rather than unfinished thoughts, but… she was left with nothing. Feeling a bit idiotic, Kay slowly rolled her shoulders in a gentle shrug. To her surprise, the man spoke again, his voice gentle.

   “I’m not kicking you out.” He told Kay, taking a moment to think and shifting his weight a bit where he stood, as if making himself more comfortable after standing in the same place for so long. He then continued, “I just happened to notice you stop in lately to look. It’s fine for you to come in and visit the cats, God knows they need attention, except… well… most people smile when they pet animals.” The man’s eyes, a much deeper blue than Kay’s own, studied the woman’s face. “I just noticed that you don’t smile when you pet them.”

   What the hell is Kay supposed to say to that? Caught between embarrassed and surprised, the young woman hardly knew what words to shove out of her talking-hole. “I, uh…” Kay could feel heat flush her face as a rosish hue dusted her ivory cheeks, a very good representation of her inner turmoil. Finally, unknowing of what sort of response to give the man, she simply swallowed thickly and opted for, “I, uh… guess I don’t.” She lowered her gaze, unable to look him directly in the eye anymore, and instead glanced toward Humbug again. Once more, she reached through the arm-hole of the glass barrier and gently pet Humbug’s fur. Soft rumbling came from the feline’s small body, as if Kay had jump-started a motor that ran on happiness and love. A thought suddenly pierced Kay’s mind, a way to save this embarrassing moment, and she suddenly found herself laughing nervously. “You’re… kinda observant, huh?”

   The Elenclaw Pets employee chuckled - actually chuckled, the noise coming from deep within his throat and could have very well been mistaken for a rumbling lion if one wasn’t listening very well - and gave a slow shrug of his shoulders. “Anyone else would have told me I’m creepy.”

   “A pet store employee telling me he watches me pet cats every day and notices I don’t smile? No, not creepy at all.” Kay managed to form a good enough sentence to produce a response. Ah, yes, good. Jokes. Jokes is a good way out of any awkward situation.

   The employee’s chuckling turned into soft laughter. He settled one hand on his hip and reached out with his other to prop his palm against the wall, eyeing the young woman. “Would it be alright with you if I asked you why you’re so sad?”

   Kay shot the man a quick look, “Who said I’m sad?”

   “You do. Every time you come in.” The employee shot back. “Every time you wander over to the cats and take a look at them. You don’t smile. You just talk to them, too soft for anyone to hear, and you always look…” The man paused in speech a moment, as if thinking, and then continued, “...forlorn.”

   The rosish hue that dusted Kay’s cheeks turned just a little bit darker. Unable to look directly at the employee anymore, she simply stared at Humbug. What could she say to this guy? What could she tell this man, a simple pet store employee, an NPC in her life who’s opinion hardly even mattered? She couldn’t just say nothing, so…

   “The same bullshit reason everyone looks sad today.” Kay answered softly. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

   A sudden silence fell between the two. For several long, horrible moments, they simply said nothing. Kay kept her gaze on the cat, and she didn’t want to know if the employee was looking at her or looking elsewhere. She knew he was still there - she could see him in her peripheral - but she just didn’t have the heart to make eye-contact.

   Finally, after those few moments passed, the employee cleared his throat. “I see.” Was the answer he chose to give her. A few more moments passed. Seconds seemed to stretch by like minutes, and Kay was too polite to walk away and abruptly end an innocent conversation. Just before the silence could be deemed anymore awkward, the man’s voice pierced the air again. “Miss… our shop isn’t usually open on holidays, but… Humbug, here… she gets quite a bit lonely.” He paused. “Tomorrow is Christmas… and by some holiday miracle, the doors might just be unlocked, and if they are, well… I’m sure Humbug could use some company.”

   Humbug’s green eyes stared into Kay’s blue ones. Kay hesitated, her hand stilling on the cat’s fur, before the young woman finally mustered up the courage to look up at the employee again. Once more, the man was smiling at her, standing there in his ridiculous bright yellow vest. It was then that Kay finally noticed a set of keys on the man’s belt, and she momentarily wondered if those keys happened to be the ones that opened the store’s doors.

   “I… don’t know what to say…” Kay managed. She finally smiled, feeling a bit of happiness bubble up in her chest. “Thank you, sir.”

   “My pleasure.” The employee replied. He turned away, just slightly, and lifted his hand off of the wall to instead slightly wave to Kay. “If there was anything else you needed, miss, I’ll be by the reptiles.”

   Kay watched the employee turn and begin to head away, strolling down the tile path with long legs. “Wait!” The young woman suddenly found herself calling out, even though she was, like, ninety percent sure her brain didn’t plan that. The employee stopped upon command, and turned to look at her. Kay smiled, her eyes giving the man a once-over. That blue hair didn’t look so bad now. “What’s your name?”

   The man cracked another smile. “Lawrence.” He told her. Then, finally, he turned on his heel again and walked off, this time uninterrupted by Kay’s calls. The ebony-haired woman watched the employee walk off, then turned to look at the cats again.

   Humbug stared at Kay, the feline’s eyes almost half-lidded with some sort of unreadable expression. “What?” Kay asked. Humbug simply yawned, withdrew from Kay’s touch, and curled up in the corner of her cage to get some sleep. Kay broke out into a ridiculous grin that she simply couldn’t wipe off her face. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat, she headed for the doors. Just as she reached the exit, she turned back to look for Lawrence, only to see the employee by the reptile section, looking right back at her. Kay smiled and waved. Lawrence waved back, and the two then turned away from each other, and went about their business. Kay headed to her car, almost a bit reluctantly.

   Christmas didn’t sound too bad, suddenly.

- - - -

A/N: So I got a sudden burst of writing inspiration (I don’t EVER GET THOSE OMG) and banged this out in about an hour and a half, I think. I don’t know, it’s like 11:30 at night and I’m tired. Anyway, these characters are actually based off of two WoW OC RP characters that I have with a very good friend. I love giving modern twists to things, and I figured that I’d like to see my little paladin in a bit calmer of a setting than Alliance vs Horde. So here’s Kay suffering through the holidays.

Context: -Elenclaw Pets, the name is based off of another character belonging to another RP partner. -Steelheart is where my character currently lives in WoW. It’s a made-up place. -Yes, Bucky is adorable and you should love him.

[smolbeansnook]

You Did, Once

Demons all begin to look the same after you kill enough of them. It matters not of their colored skin or eyes - it is their expressions; the way they hold themselves, heads high and shoulders broad. Their hands are easily spotted, constantly at the ready with the weapon of their choosing or their tainted magic, and upon their face, in the depths of their gaze, their lips tugging upward in the faintest smirk, they need no words to relay their message: The Legion defines them. The Legion will rule all.

That is the expression of Mistress Attumhe as she lay, broken and battered, upon the dusty terrain of the battlefield. For a planet with no visible sun in the sky in comparison to darkened green clouds, Argus felt hotter than usual... perhaps the demoness was feeling the sensation of the crimson that poured from the gaping hole in her torso at an alarming rate, or perhaps she was feeling the beads of sweat that trickled down her temples to glide along her neck. Or, perhaps, she was feeling the heat from the angry stare of the woman who loomed above her. A Draenei and a demoness, side by side, so different in color, yet their resemblance was strikingly similar. They both resembled the same sized horns, the same sharp hooves. One blue spirit. One red.

For a long while, their gazes held each other as they remained idle. Blood stained their armor, their marks scattered along the tainted soil of the dusty floor. Cuts, gashes, and bruises covered the two women from head to hoof, hair matted, bones broken... their battlefield, however, had become a deathbed - and they both knew it all too well.

“It comes to this.” Mistress Attumhe’s words dripped from her lips like a faint trickle of water that can’t quite become a stream. Her tone, though an edged whisper, was still laced with pride. The green of her eyes stared dimly up at her company - her death bringer, her downfall... her best friend. “I never stood a chance, did I?”

“That is the terrible part, dearest sister,” The vindicator managed to utter her words through her heavy panting as she leaned heavily against her golden greatsword, which she had stuffed into the soil beside her. Despite the heat of the battle, the abhorrent circumstances that had befallen them, her own tone was filled heavily with sorrow, “You did, once.”

For a while, they sat in uncomfortable silence. seconds seemed to pass by like hours, and yet, time wasn’t an ally. The red skin of Mistress Attumhe lightened to a rose-like hue as blood continued to seep from her body. Every breath she took grew slower, more ragged... each second that crawled by became more of a struggle for her to stay alive. For now, she and the other could only simply stare. Their eyes roamed the figure of their company as they took in each other’s appearance. So very different from years upon years ago.

The victor breaks the silence.

“Do you remember our childhood?” A small, sad smile crept along the Lightforged Draenei’s face as she gazed down at her dying kin. “We would run through the village... waving sticks as swords. We would pretend to defend the planet our parents ran from before we were born, and use the ‘Light’ to bless our playmates during faux battles. At such a young age, we vowed to someday devote our souls to the true Light. To become all things good,” Her smile slowly fell as she drifted a hand to her wounded side, eyes still lingered upon her sister as she whispered, “just as Mother was.”

Mistress Attumhe’s paling green gaze roamed her sibling’s figure, still, as she lay in quiet contemplation. The expression upon her face momentarily flickered to something unsure. Perhaps a moment of clarity... a series of thoughts drifting across her mind like a sailboat on a gentle sea...

The expression passed as quick as it appeared... and the demoness began to giggle. The harsh, curdled noise that escaped her soon turned into desperate, heaving gasps for air as the woman broke into hysteric laughter, amusement bubbling from her gaping chest without relent. The Lightforged’s eyes narrowed, her stance quickly shifting to one of caution as her fingers wrapped tighter around the handle of her blade again. Mistress Attumhe peered up at the victor of their fight and grinned.

“Your Light will abandon you... Vindicator Ladoranna...” Attumhe sucked in a sharp, pained breath, her laughter turning to rasped gasps, “I shall always serve... the Legion...”

A moment passed as rage quickly began to fill Ladoranna, and death’s door could not have arrived quicker for the mistress at her hooves. The Lightforged yanked her blade from the soil as if it weighed nothing, her teeth grit as she raised the greatsword high above her head, and with an anguished scream, a blur of gold plummeted through the air until it sharply pierced the skull beneath her in a horrendous crack. At once, the laughter stopped.

The vindicator panted heavily as she stared down at her latest kill, her hands trembling around the handle of her weapon. “Pheta... thones... gamera...” She managed. There came no response from the body beneath her. The battlefield sat in silence. Slowly, the Draenei pulled her blade from the skull of the demoness, and shakily retrieved a clean cloth from her belt. She took the cloth to the tip of her blade, clearing the steel of heated liquid... and as she did so... caught sight of her own reflection in the shimmering glow of the sword. It was only then that Ladoranna noticed of the tears that trailed down her blue cheeks to drip to the ground beneath her, adding an odd, cool sensation to her warm skin. She uttered a curse beneath her breath and tossed the cloth aside before wiping at her eyes with her hand.

“You do not deserve tears.”

The battlefield still sat quiet. A moment of peace through the heat.

Until the silence dispersed to noise again.

Shouts, screams, and battle cries filled the air. The vindicator picked her head up to take in her surroundings, gold gaze scanning the rough, rocky terrain that sat around her. Left and right charged her companions - loyal soldiers of Azeroth and soldiers of the Light, blades and guns gripped tightly in their hands as they advanced toward their enemies. At the same time, lost souls devoted to the Legion shrieked demonic war cries as they added to the flames of battle. There was no mercy, no relent, no hesitation as swords clashed and bodies began to fall - and it served as a great reminder of the ongoing battle that was far from finished. The war that never seemed to end. Ladoranna spun her blade in her hand once, twice, three times, and looked back to the woman at her hooves. Beneath her, there no longer lay the sister Ladoranna spent her childhood with. There no longer lay the woman the vindicator once lost and never found again. There was just the mistress... and to the vindicator... that meant one less threat left to a world she’s meant to defend. Rid of hesitation, the Lightforged soldier gave another cry and turned, hooves clacking against the ground as she ran off to kill her next demon.

They all begin to look the same after you kill enough of them.

[smolbeansnook]

Twenty Sided Die

Out of the entirety of her unique dice collection, the twenty-sided die is most definitely her favorite. Of ‘course, she’s got others - the classic six sides, eight, twelve, and so on. Each die possesses its own unique color and pattern. Each die is of a different shape and weight. However, no die, no little round ball, can ever be as mysterious or unique as the twenty-sided dice of her collection.

She has a few of these particular dice, though her absolute most favored is the black one. It’s ebony shell is laced with a faint, smokey gray design, while large white numbers lay upon each side. This particular die stands out among the other various shapes, sizes, and colors of it’s companions. This die is her most prized... not because the die is expensive or the most beautiful, but because of it’s meaning. Twenty faces, twenty possibilities sits in the palm of her hand. Each number stares her down with whispered words of temptation, dusting her ears like the crisp breeze of a fall evening. From each number manifests a change in fate, a shift in her story. The roll of the die determines good and bad, right from wrong, and decides if her world will grow to be sunny and beautiful, or crumble beneath her feet. Her job isn’t to stare down at the die and hope it doesn’t lead her to a fate most unforgiving... her job is to roll the die, and live within the fate bestowed upon her.

The twenty sided die has become her greatest companion and most terrible weakness. Due to the die, the girl can be ripped from her spot at a cozy table surrounded by friends in her small house on the country-side, to suddenly finding herself within the heart of a deep forest, surrounded by decent-sized goblins with daggers, and the only way to defend herself from their wrath is with the roll of the single die. She can stare into the yellowed gazes of her enemies, catch sight of their crooked smiles and eager claws, and understand that the roll of the die determines whether she’ll live to see another day, or meet a most unfortunate end, right there, right then, on the forest floor.

Times like these cause her to no longer feel the comfort of her home. She cannot hear the echoed voices of her companions as they anxiously await her fate, and in the thick of the tension, she cannot even detect her own heartbeat thudding in her chest. All she can do is pick up the die, feel it with her fingers... and toss it.

Perhaps it’s the thrill. It must be. The thrill of wondering if she’s going to make it out of this alive. Perhaps this is what keeps her going, assists her in working up the courage to roll. The roll of the die is a sick game that toys with her very being, her very essence, everything she’s encountered in life leading up to this very single moment, and she loves it. She lives for it. To hear the clack of plastic as the die hits the table, to read the number, to wonder if she’s rolled high or low enough to survive this.

She’s gambling with her own life, and all bets are placed on her most favorite tiny object. She loves it more than picking up her pencil and scribbling down new information on her rumpled character sheet. She loves it more than whatever reward or fate she might get after the fact. Nothing thrills her more than not knowing who lives and who dies. She isn’t a school girl procrastinating on studying for her exam. She isn’t someone who cuddles up in a ball under blankets on a cold winter day to watch television. She’s so much more. She’s an explorer, an adventurer, a savior, a hero, and the roll of the die allows her to pick up her sword and swing.

She lives to roll the twenty-sided die.

[smolbeansnook]

A Rising Hero

There are people in the world who may tell someone like her that she’s too young to possess any knowledge or experience with heavy warfare, and perhaps these people right. After all, she knows she can’t wield a sword, she knows she’s not fast enough to outrun anything larger than herself, and she knows seventeen certainly isn’t the ideal age to pack her bags and seek combat training.

Perhaps she doesn’t know anything about war, but she does know loss. Despite her age, she’s grown to understand the pain that comes with losing a person - people - close to you. She knows that the worst feeling she’s ever felt was when the echoed screams of her mother and father cried for her to run, and the only element to accompany her while she tore through the blazing streets of Lordaeron was sheer fear. Fear for her life, fear of realizing she’d never see her parents again, that bedtime stories and goodnight hugs were lost to a gaping hole of unforgiving darkness.

She also knows love. It’s odd to think that love pairs so well with war, but love makes up the gravity of loss. To grieve is to lose love, the foundation of life. She loved her parents, she loved the life they provided her, and if she was any older than six and maybe had a bit longer legs at the time, she would have fought for what she loved - dug into the deepest parts of her soul to search for the spark that would ignite the flame of something spectacular. Wars can be fought for power, wars can be fought for wealth, but nothing - no element, no words, no deity - is stronger than love. Nothing holds more importance than fighting for something that is loved. With the Legion riding on Azeroth’s back as a horrid threat with seemingly no escape, too many reliable soldiers have met the fate of fel fire, and she tells herself that to win a war, the world needs love.

These are the thoughts that creep through the young woman’s mind as she finds herself staring into the face of her own reflection within her bedroom mirror. Two blue eyes gaze back at her with a matching look of, well... what is she supposed to feel? Determination? Apprehension? Love? She can feel a rise in her chest as she deeply inhaled, then a lessen of the rise as she exhaled, causing her shoulders to slump slightly beneath the heavy weight of her plated armor.

The armor isn’t anything special, really. She made it herself, and she’s not much of a blacksmith. The armor is simply pieces of metal painted black, though the lack of color does not hold a good reflection of what she wishes her life to become. The armor is big and clunky, especially on her small and slim frame, but this is a war, and she’ll use any resources she can get her hands on. As she tied her ebony hair back into the confines of a ponytail, she could hear the faint sound of movement in other parts of her home. For a moment, all she could do is stare at her small bedroom... the place she grew up after the fall of her city. She lives with two men in a small cabin in the woods, alone. Her brother and her uncle are her best friends, her only friends, and the sound of her two housemates bustling about the cabin nearly all hours of the day makes her feel comforted. There’s always someone around the corner... right outside her door, waiting for her.

“Are you ready, Kaylyn?”

She could hear the rumbled tone of an older man on the other side of her door. Allowing her gaze sweep her room a final time, she slipped her hands through a leather strap and picked up her small bag of packed clothing, and opened her door. There, on the other side, stood a tall man, gray speckling his otherwise brown hair as he smiled at his niece. They’re not blood related, but this man saved her life as Lordaeron fell, and she loved him as if he really was her family. She took a deep breath, then raised her head and nodded in confirmation, giving him a small, sure smile.

“I’m ready, Uncle.”

When she caught his gaze again, the greens of his eyes were filled with pride. Her uncle pat her shoulder with a warm, heavy hand, and began guiding her toward the front door. “Kaylyn Hartford... I knew the day would come when you’d explore the world on your own. I would have never imagined, nor wanted to believe, that you’d explore Azeroth under such dire circumstances, but... right now, the Alliance... and the Horde... is in need of more good people. Those with hidden potential that haven’t had a chance to shine until now.” They reached the front door of the small cabin, and he turned to her, sliding a finger beneath her chin to gently tilt her head up to look at him. “More heroes.”

Kaylyn’s small smile brightened into something bigger. She stretched her arms out wide, gazing up at her uncle with beaming happiness. “I’m gonna miss you.”

A pair of broad arms wrapped around Kaylyn, drawing her in for a giant hug. When they came together, she burrowed her face into his chest and let her eyes flutter shut. For a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy this feeling. Her uncle’s arms felt like a secure blanket of safety... his warm embrace was one she wouldn’t be forgetting for a long time. One of his hands drifted up and down her back in a gentle, comforting motion. “As will I... but don’t miss me, Dove. Right now, we need a little bit of Light in this dark abyss.” Her uncle parted from the hug, and when Kaylyn looked up, she could see him staring down at her once more, his expression warm. “Go learn all you can, small bird. Kaelan’s going to be so proud of you... after he stops being angry that you didn’t say goodbye.”

Kaelan Hartford. Her brother. Kaylyn smiled at the thought of her twin. She’s well aware that she’s leaving without saying goodbye... but that’s love. Love includes loss, but Kaylyn wouldn’t ever be too far from him. She had a feeling her sibling would come chasing her down as soon as he’d learn of her absence. “Well, if he comes chasing me down, tell him his sister’s half way across the world swinging swords that she doesn’t know how to use.”

A low chuckle of amusement rumbled from deep within her uncle’s chest, and such a gesture brought another smile to her lips. Her uncle smiled back. “That’s my girl. Now, go on, Dove... spread your wings and fly.”

Kaylyn brightened, feeling a newfound hope rise inside her. Yes... she will fly. She’ll spread her wings, she’ll take off to the sky, and she’ll fly straight into the war. Once more, she hugged her uncle, her embrace tighter than the last, before she took a few steps back, and moved outside. Kaylyn stepped into the forest that surrounded her small cabin, tilting her head up to cast her gaze toward the trees, then around. Her white horse stood in front of the cabin, saddled up and ready for a run. Kaylyn walked to her ride, tying her bag to the saddle, before sliding her foot into one of the saddle holsters and hoisting herself up and over, seating herself upon the large animal’s back. As she took the reins of her horse into her hands, she looked toward the cabin once more.

Her uncle, bless his heart, still stood there at the doorway, watching her with pride. There was another look in his eye, however... something off, something Kaylyn couldn’t read, but if she had to guess, perhaps the look was longing. She realized that letting her go might not be as easy for her uncle as the man let on. So, a small smile spared her lips, and she raised her hand to waved at him. “I’ll write.” She assured him. “I’ll write every day.”

Her uncle gave one single nod of understanding. “Goodbye, Kaylyn.”

“Goodbye, Uncle.”

Kaylyn flicked the reins, and soon, her horse began it’s happy trot through the forest. With a deep breath, the girl forced herself to look away from her home, and at the land around her. She was starting her life... the beginning of her own fight in the war. She was ready to be another little Light in the darkness. Another surge of hope filled Kaylyn, and upon a sudden, second, firmer flick of the reins, her horse broke into a gallop, bypassing trees as the animal began carrying her in the direction she needed to go. Every pound of her horse’s hooves against the ground was like a brilliant warcry. Every whistle and tweet from hovering birds was like a song sung just for her. Kaylyn kept her head high, shoulders broad, and couldn’t help but think to herself as she rode away from home,

“Look out, Azeroth... make way for me.”

[smolbeansnook]

Celestial Beauty

Mankind often searches for answers within the stars. A simple act of casting our gazes to the dancing bursts of light that litter the ebony banner with which surrounds our world. We ask for guidance, we determine the shapes and patterns as personal signs. We label our favorite stars with a unique title, and then we believe.

With every beat of our hearts, we put our faith in the night sky. We find mystery, above, sure, but so much more. Romance, endless amounts of it, and adventure. We find... a reason... a will. Many of us lay beneath those stars and gaze for hours. We lose ourselves to the hypnotic stories the stars whisper to us. Some of us use the brightest ones to find our way home. A few of us study the stars to seek further answers: What are stars? Where do they come from, and what does that mean for us?

I find myself star gazing every night, but it’s never at the sky. I find stars in a world like no other. He comes to me at dusk, and when our eyes meet, I swear I can see the entirety of the galaxy in the chocolate pools of his gaze. In his eyes, I can see realities unimaginable by mankind. He isn’t beauty - he defines beauty. He looks at me, and his very energy consumes my mind effortlessly. When our eyes meet, it’s with meaning.

We have hundreds of conversations and share millions of words without releasing a single breath. He shows me his soul, I show him mine, and a mutual feeling of undying trust - an unbreakable bond - settles between us. He holds my life, and I let him. It’s love, yes, but such a simple term - “love” - can never truly represent our connection.

I need never look to the sky. He is my sky. He’s my stars, my moons, my planets... He encases me in a warm, gentle net of safety, and I welcome him into my arms with the silent promise that no deity or force can ever set us apart. An entire universe is there for me to explore within him... and I am ready.