#* verse 002: nalice / HEART OF METAL; WINGS OF BLACK.

[warwaged-archive]

"Why are you even here?" Raern gestures around the Wyrmrest Temple. "Haven't the Blacks stopped all relations with their other kin?" (To Nalice, during WotLK)

UNPROMPTED ASKS // always accepting.

Oh, they are pesky little things, the mortals. 

Nalice finds she doesn’t mind wearing the form of one of them as much as she initially expected; it seems like a fragile thing, this skin of hers, white and soft and so very different of obsidian scales, but she does not reject it, does not feel as if it is a body she doesn’t belong in. Stands out, even as the representatives of other flights wear mortal guises also; Alexstrasza does not disguise draconic features even as a high elf, and most of others have a variation of elven too, even if in half. 

Her guise is purely human — so had been that her mother wore to infiltrate Wrynn’s court, so had been that Deathwing himself used to trick foolish mortals. Fitting, then, that it would be her choice when she weaves her own deceit, like those who came before, if setting her sights higher than deceiving mere mortals, culmination that this is of a long plan to infiltrate the other flight’s midst. Keep your enemies closer, as it were; Nalice sought to keep them close as it could be, abhorrent as it was to stand so close to the Lifebinder and not try to shed her blood.

“You presume I owe you an explanation, mortal.”She has little interest on mortals beyond their usefulness. This one seems more annoying than useful, and thus Nalice is inclined to pretend not to have heard her at all until she is left alone; but there are eyes on her, she knows, and more importantly, there are ears, and if she is to redeem her flight (the mere idea of it makes her want to laugh, absurd; her heart is as black as any of her kin, and that they cannot see it is a wonder). 

Well, only in part. For the most of it she knows it is guilt that keeps them at bay, even as Nalice does not quite bother concealing her taste for blood. 

“They are not my kin.” Blatant reply that it is may seem odd, but she knows to have played her tale well enough even this will only drive the blade further in their hearts, make the hideous Crimson Queen drown in regret thinking this to be consequence of her own actions. “My kin was slaughtered by them, innocent and guilty alike. Now we are too few to defend our own den from the undead.”

“It is no surprise the reds call upon their allies to look after their interests alone, their good graces extend only to the crimson-scaled. But my dragonshrine is infested with undead vermin also, and we need aid in cleansing it. The Dragon Queen is not noble enough to offer us help, but it seems neither is she vile enough to keep me from finding those nobler than herself who might be willing to aid us.” Nalice crosses her arms and shrugs lightly, unaffected by whichever tempers she may have provoked in speaking ill of beloved Alexstrasza. “Amounts to very little when we would not need help at all if not for them.”

[diguerra-moved]

Taloned paw reached to settle against younger to drag daughter closer whether she wished or not, only barely mindful not to catch sharp points against Nalice. Not so small was she anymore, no longer a stumbling whelp or gangly drake. A clever girl now. Cleverer than any other of Onyxia's brood. In another life she might have been proud. In another life she might have been a mother at all. "You have been busy." Crooning, snout bumping in sham of affection. "Tell me about it. Make me proud, dear."

VERY MUCH PROMPTED ASKS // send me ic asks guys

Another may have questioned affection that could so easily leave marks, smiles of too many sharp teeth, claws that do not much care who they cause to bleed. Another may have outraged at one who allowed offspring to fight, who demanded they prove worth if she is to waste even a minute hovering over them. Another, but not Nalice. All she has ever learned was that soft mothers, caring and kind and eager to give love free and unbound, only ever bred soft children, dependent and weak and unable to stand by themselves. A childish thing, to act needy and cry out for mother dearest’s attention; childish, but that even as whelp they had been taught would not be tolerated nor heard. Naught of wrong in having to earn mother’s affection, nothing to be questioned in receiving it only when and as she saw fit to give it. Onyxia made them strong; and were they not, would they deserve to live at all?

(When you are not fed love in silver spoon, you learn to lick it from knives.)

Indeed, there is contentment in even forceful manner would-be affection is offered, in interested inquiry, in blatantly offered opportunity to receive recognition for her efforts (for herself). All she did, Nalice did for them; for all of them to become masters of this world, as it is their right. 

“I have.” Begins, agreement certain in spite of apprehension griping at her; oh, what she intended to do was ambitious indeed, but she was yet in earlier stages of long term plan, plan that she knew not would please for certain. Yet if uncertainty is felt, it is carefully guarded within heart, deep beneath skin; weakness most certainly wouldn’t do, when all she wishes is to please. It is no herculean task, to be sure; Nalice has long learned that it is confident aggression that keeps her safest, that fear is invitation for an attack. “With what I believe will prove most advantageous to us, mother.”

“Granted all continues according to plan, I will soon have access to the Life Binder herself.” Would that she had the strength to take her down, would that she could do it and survive the wrath of the reds; suffering her presence in order to gaining her favor was all too unpleasant a task, but better still than risking on skin in truly damning manner. 

Red hued eyes have hint of expectant, nearly hopeful, as she watches for reaction, waits for it with bated breath. Oh, how she longs for hard earned pride at last. “As is, I have been successful in making her believe me unaffected by the so-called afflictions of our flight.”

[diguerra-moved]

"G-good evening, Nalice. How a-are you today? Oh, I um, made you tea if you would like some." (Dragon Rosie)

IC ASKS // always accepting.

She needed not pretend gentleness in front of the Life Binder and her consort, or of the representatives of other flights. Different dragons called for different approaches, nevertheless; and this one, frail thing that she was, called for softer means, lest she breaks or decides to hide. Worth the effort, still, if only for benefits it earned her; harder to name her treacherous when she showed docility if it suited her, more difficult to deem her wretched when a child of Alexstrasza’s own body would befriend her so willingly. 

Tea. Mortal thing, tasteless as mortal things often were. She held no love for them; no particular hatred, either, nothing but an indifference of sorts if the mortals were not of use to her. They forget they are dragons, Nalice thinks, dallying amidst mortals for so long; perhaps she wants to forget, she who suffered at own siblings’ hands (and the black could laugh at that, at outrage it causes in flights other than her own, as if not something bound to happen eventually). They play at righteousness as it suits them, but she sees no difference beyond great destiny her flight is meant to have. 

“That is… very thoughtful.” Words without edge do not come easily, but they need not; all the more credit for her attempt, effort at getting better, at being good (they so love a redemption story). Sweet smile comes easier. Nalice is good at acting the part, else the Lifebinder would not believe her to have forsaken all allegiance to Deathwing and his misguided children, would not have accepted her at Wyrmrest. “I would like it, yes. Thank you, Rose.”

Sips it, a pleased hum as she does; Nalice is hardly fond of it, but she so needs them to let her close, and the Life Binder’s daughter could be a source unmatched if only she trusted Nalice enough. “I have been…” Pause is more dramatic than uncertain, gaze suddenly avoiding the other, crafted smile faltering momentarily; she is naught if not a victim, after all. “well enough, I suppose.”

“I hope you haven’t been unwell yourself.”

[diguerra-moved]

The Scourge come. Korialstrasz calls upon his allies in a futile attempt to save their Ruby Dragonshrine, but it seems the good graces of the red flight don't extend to saving the shrines of the other flights.

Surprised? I'm not.

There is another of my brood who has left to clear our Obsidian Dragonshrine and the undead vermin that now infest it. All it would take to prove yourself more noble and righteous than Alexstrasza herself is a quick jaunt over there and a few swings of a blade.

I’m amused.

nalice is so here to drag the reds

[warwaged-archive]

TAG DROP: NALICE MISC.