#.help wanted.thread

[conflictedenergies]

starter for @arcanist-starweaver ! 

Drumming their fingers against their notebook, pen wedged against their palm and cheek as they lean on the arm, Vy is... absent. Their mind has sought to the stars, only occasionally zoning back into reality when a particularly interesting question or piece of knowledge comes up during the lecture, either from Saedre Starweaver herself or any of the lecture-goers.

With only a few new notes in the notebook, their pen has been almost fairly useless this time around. Vy has attended quite a lot of Saedre's lectures, and the knowledge they have gained from them has helped quite a lot with their research. Though their methods may be considered... orthodox to Saedre and her audience - as well as the general populace of Dalaran - her years of experience and knowledge in the perspective of said experience has given Vy'cenin tons of valuable information for their balance research- but not this time. Plenty of knowledge and information, of course, but nothing of use to them; nothing that solves the problem plaguing their mind,

They will have to talk with her in person.

As the lecture comes to an end, the room starts to buzz with activity and people’s mumbling as they discuss Saedre's lecture. A few go to ask her questions in person, all of which Vy’cenin let them have their conversation before they ask theirs. After all, Vy will most likely require Saedre to, uh. See the monstrosities Vy has been attempting to build for quite some time.

"Hello, Starweaver. Not sure what you prefer to be called, that has somehow escaped me despite my attending quite a number of your lectures, and I am now annoyingly aware of how douche-y and self-centric that is, please forgive me," Vy’cenin suddenly begins to ramble, their words running away from them before their brain processes what’s going on and what they should say.

A wave of embarrassment, disappointment, and shock runs down their spine, blood rushing to their face, as they stumble for words, “Um, I- uh... you- can you- I’ve got, uh, thing- Light, that sounds so, so incredibly wrong, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m such a mess.” They cover their face with their hands.

Deep breaths. In, out; in, out; in, out; and slowly, the pit in Vy’cenin’s stomach dissipates. 

Vy lets their hands fall to their side again, and they look back up at Saedre. “I apologise,” they begin slowly, chewing on words in their head before saying them out loud. “I’ve got a magical project I need help with, and I was hoping your lecture would provide the answers I’m seeking to make it work. It didn’t, so, now I’m asking you personally if you’d please help me because I’m frankly quite lost and it’s incredibly frustrating and annoying.”

[conflictedenergies]

Opening their mouth, Vy'cenin lets out a breath of a cut short word. It's a bit croaked and dry, but a small smile is brought upon their cracked lips nonetheless.

"I will not argue opinions with you, no matter what they're based on, as it gets us nowhere. My last say will be a bit of a... perspective change, so to say," Vy'cenin says with a calm voice. "I know of whiskey, beer, many, many cocktails, wine, and many other types of alcohol, and that each race's version of them are different. This doesn't mean I like all of them - personally, I'm a fruity cocktails and cognac person, actually - and I choose not to interact with the ones I dislike. Additionally, it varies how much one can take before being drunk, as well as one's opinion on being drunk, but there is always a point if too much. It's the same with spells and magic, no matter the source and nature of it."

"Magic requires self discipline, just like responsible drinking does. Some people choose to ignore it out of thrill and personal gain and some don't."

They take a deep breath. So much for intending to not make that a ramble, Vy'cenin think as they turn back to the void elf. They can't help glowing up at her words; it has been ages since they've had a meal and a drink with company outside of Rupgup.

"It's the art of teaching," they admit, sheepish joy making them scratch the back of their head. "I used to teach sin'dorei children of all ages in the natures of magic as well as their basics. That job quickly teaches you patience is key." A small laugh punctuates the sentence.

"Anyway. I'm Vy'cenin, though most call me Vy. And you are...?"

@safrona-shadowsun @unabashedrebel

Continuation on rp from here: 

A century or so of the populace’s fear toward the socially taboo had resulted so often in putting the innocent to fire in the attempt to find a culprit that fit the idea of the accused - it had long taught Safrona to be subtle about what she had learned in her time. Kirollis had put her on a fiery defensive calling her out from the beginning today, but it was herself she was becoming more irate with that moment that she left her chair, letting herself become too friendly with the rogue, assuming she had a friend in him that did not simplify her by the magic she could use, or the things she could summon, once learned of it all. That was what she deserved with such assumptions. Guess it’s time to build the walls a little higher. 

But it was the softer tone of the stranger trying to play referee that stopped her, their calm understanding that lead her back to the table, and let her hear both debates out. A small realization hit her as she chuckled quietly at Kirollis, in the end, ignoring the many voices that suggested of conspiracies trying to cut through her mind now, of the rogue’s perceived betrayal, of his paranoia potentially taking a sharp turn to sever her from a life she had worked so hard to build again. She was in control here. She had to be.

“Our stranger here has the patience of a saint. I definitely need your name before I’m off to the typical business of cavorting with cultists and trying to end the world, apparently.” A dry jab at the rogue as she spoke indirectly of the discourse set, her tight smile given to the new company, avoiding any eye contact with the rogue despite still sitting there. “But…I don’t think I’ve heard Kirollis go off like that before. He might need someone to console him, who knows. Make him feel safe again. Either way, my nameless friend, you’ll need more to drink if you intend on dealing with him. At least let me take care of the charges here at the Lounge for you.”

{ @conflictedenergies, @unabashedrebel }

[conflictedenergies]

cont. from here || @safrona-shadowsun

Fingers fidget with the thin stem of the wine glass - or, rather, what Vy’cenin thinks is a wine glass - rolling it tentatively between their fingers. They do this when they’re thinking, leaving other people to decipher their mood from their face or body language, a task often failed because of the mist of thought that always washes over Vy’cenin’s face.

Except for these rare, memorable occasions. A smile so tiny you’d miss it if you weren’t directly in front of them cradles their face. It lifts up their cheeks and put a sparkle in their eyes that clear up the hazy mist of thought. A smile so subtle, yet only coming from content so deep-felt your heart aches for it afterwards.

Sliding the wine glass back over the counter, back to Safrona, Vy’cenin brings themselves out of their mind to, instead, gaze upon her.

Opening they mouth, all words suddenly die in their throat. How on Azeroth do you casually talk about what you only think is someone else’s memories, friend or not, memory transfer intended or not? Vy’cenin had been far too taken up by the happy babbles of the tiny little elf to consider how many boundaries this probably crosses.

They croak an “Uhm” and clears their throat. Lords above, this is not how they meant for their first visit back at Safrona’s wine bar to be go, new establishment or not.

Light, they are so uncomfortable.

Once again, Vy’cenin clears their throat, and, this time, they actually manage to speak. “New blend?” they ask, motioning towards the - now only partially filled - glass. “It doesn’t quite taste like anything of yours I have tasted before- though, I’m aware I’m probably far from having tried everything you have to offer, and, uhm-” They cut themself off, as if for dramatic effect. Certainly feels as such, with how the atmosphere buzzes excitedly.

“Were the experience of vivid hallucinations that felt a concerningly lot like memories intended?” Now, Vy’cenins heart has picked up its pace, hammering at the inside of their ribcage. They’re looking at Safrona with an expression they hope convey their thoughts of ‘dear lord don’t kill me’, with a touch of ‘I am so sorry for the inconvenience this will undoubtedly bring’. 

Almost four months of staying away from Saf’s company and establishment, only to immediately cause issues for her upon their return? How bloody awkward.

[conflictedenergies]

@safrona-shadowsun || cont. from here

“That’d be delightful, actually. I haven’t had anything to drink for...” Vy’cenin pauses to tab their fingers against the counter, a subtle frown overtaking their brows. They huff a laugh. “Let’s just say it’s been a long time.”

Their eyes flicker to the menu. There’s many items, too many for Vy’cenin to decide between; too many for them to process.

Looking back at the etheral, Vy’cenin speaks with a smile. “Surprise me. My general taste is something less strong, more fruity, and colors are a nice touch. Not that the colors typically affect the taste, they just- they make it more inviting, make me happy, as childish as that is.”

“May I get your name?” they ask, taking out a notepad and a quill from within their bag.

[conflictedenergies]

@summysparklesprocket || cont. from here

Rupgup’s fast approach takes most of Vy’cenin’s attention. They hear the gnome speak but only vaguely process it; not until they’re holding bandages in their shaking hands, ready to roll them out and around the gnome’s wounds, does it click with Vy’cenin what she said.

“Leave you...?” Vy’cenin echoes, baffled. Even the glow of their eyes is confused, swirling and switching between different nuances of Fel green and Light gold. 

With an offended huff, Vy’cenin begins to roll out the bandage. “Who do you take me for? A neglectful dumbass? I’m a teacher, making sure people are safe is in my blood,” they say, “Now, let me bandage the wounds that are still bleeding and we’ll get away without you leaving a blood trail.”

[conflictedenergies]

@summysparklesprocket​ || cont. from here

Dalaran is a dream for any magic enthusiast like Vy’cenin. Floating above the Broken Isles, libraries full of knowledge of all kinds of magics, friendly faces at cafés and taverns up for a chat and a discussion, an offering of gold for Vy’cenin’s little magic trick, and other things Cenin so deeply enjoy. Of course it has its dark side.

Their quick footsteps move down the streets of the city, Rupgup on their shoulder and keeping a watchful eye out.

They heard the struggle beneath Dalaran’s surface break out and felt the pulses of magic being used. Attacker or defender, it doesn’t quite matter to Vy’cenin; the magic signature rose and fell in strength, lashing out in a feeling of danger, before getting increasingly weaker and weaker.

With a deep breath, Cenin closed their eyes and let their mind and senses reach out to the magic around them. It was as if every part of their brain was assaulted with high-definition magical sensor input from all directions, yet they didn’t falter at all as they navigated the city and sought out the magic signature. It felt fatigued, almost empty and drained, as it moved towards the city surface.

Vy’cenin had bolted out of their seat, startling Rupgup who then jumped after them and onto their shoulder. They asked him to watch out for anyone who looks like they may have just been in a fight as they ran down the streets, one hand buried in their pouch.

The magic signature leads Vy’cenin to a gnome who looks like they’re bleeding a river.

Without so much as thinking, Vy takes out another item from their pouch as they slow to a quick halt, staff clacking loudly against the cobblestone. It’s a fresh apple, imbued with healing Nature magic.

Kneeling down next to the gnome, both to get their attention and to shield them from any spying on-lookers, Vy holds out the apple and a coastal mana potion for them to take. “Here. The apple heals,” Vy’cenin clarifies in a hushed but friendly tone.

[conflictedenergies]

plotted starter for @syn-sunspice

Vy’cenin no longer knows how long it’s been since they left Silvermoon. It feels like an eternity, pain shaking their entire body as though its a giant vice attempting to crush all their bodily functions. It can’t have been more than a day or two, according to their memory of how long the trek through Eversong Woods and the Ghostlands take. It has been a while, though, and they could easily be mistaken.

Their chest flares up with pain and the cough. It’s violent and uncomfortable, leaving them even more dizzy than before and their vision blanketed by black and white dots. This is bad. 

Despite the coughing, they don’t stop moving. Cenin is used to coughing, they never quite manage to go five hours without doing so, thus they don’t think much of it. The cold-sweat soaking their body isn’t a stranger to them either, and neither is the severe shaking or the pain.

Their knees give out. Vy’cenin isn’t able to react in time, and they flop to the ground like a fish, their head slamming against the ground.

Groaning, they let their eyes close for just a moment. The pain and cold is overwhelming, and, with a sigh, they let themselves rest, but just for a little moment, before they wrestle with their upper body. Slowly, they get their arms moving to push them up- but they ground is no longer in front of them, and they simply flail their arms in the air.

Confusion hits them like a brick-wall, and Vy’cenin wrestle open their eyes to sit up. The light of a broken down house greets them as if it was daggers digging into their brain.

There’s voices, though they sound like they’re deep below water. Vy can vaguely see three silhouettes but they can gather no traits from them.

Vy’cenin pukes.

[conflictedenergies]

@craneweave sent a 🤝 for a short, unplotted starter || meme / prompt

Wringing their hands, short nails scraping against the back of their hands, Vy’cenin can’t let their eyes settle on anything for any longer than a mere five seconds. They keep diving back to a sin’dorei quite up in the age, someone almost as old as Cenin themself, and each time their heart does a little jump. In longing, in remembrance, in sorrow, in guilt.

They used to be mistaken for siblings, the two of them. It was an easy mistake to make, with the both of them having such beautiful and long platinum blonde hair, a gentle smile, and a caring attitude. Now they look nothing alike.

In reality, they had simply been coworkers; coworkers who then grew to become close friends. Close friends who grew apart when Vy’cenin succumbed to an almost wretched-like state, the Fel not sustaining them or cooperating with their body. 

They wish they could tell Jacey they’d gotten better.

Gripping their staff tightly, Vy’cenin halts their way to Jacey’s side. Dread, fear, and a deep sense of awkwardness clings to their throat.

“Well, would you look at that- the world really is small!” Cenin greets Jacey with a big and genuine, albeit wavering, smile. A kind of smile that lights up their eyes. “Ah, pardon me- you probably can’t recognize me, with me being a ghost of myself and all. It’s, uh.”

Their name gets stuck in their throat, and their voice dies out. Clearing their raspy throat, they try again, but it fails once more. Again, they try, and fail. Cenin gives an annoyed sigh, running their hand down their face.

Taking several deep breaths and closing their eyes, Vy’cenin calms down their heart. Easy, easy, they tell themself.

“Vy. It’s Vy,” they finally manage to choke out. They can’t look at Jacey, heart heavy, stomach churning, and ears lowered and burning hot. Not even their parents ever made them feel this embarrassed. They don’t bother drying the tears. “Y’know, Vy’cenin Nimblebreath? From, uh, our teaching years.”

[conflictedenergies]

@rimeforge sent a 🤝for a short, unplotted starter || meme / prompt

Ever since making their way out of Silvermoon, Vy’cenin has been on the watch of undead. There’s still pieces of fear from the Scourge attack clinging to them, though that’s not their reasoning; the Forsaken know more of treating a decaying body and mind than the living do.

Thus, on their adventures through Zandalar, now ruled by queen Talanji - is it weird for Cenin to say their proud of her? They’re proud of her - Vy’cenin spots a heavily armored sin’dorei death knight, ice blue hair freely swaying in the air in the absence of their helm. It’s a bit of a peculiar sight, seeing a warrior not bothering protecting their skull, and Cenin can’t help the worry leaping into their heart.

With uneven steps and furrowed brows, Vy’cenin halts over to the death knight, their walking staff clonking loudly against the tiled floor.

“Pardon me, sir? Isn’t it a little counter-productive to not wear a helmet?” They ask the death knight, brows still pressed slightly together in concern. “‘Sir’ meant in a gender neutral fashion, of course- I have no idea what you identify as, so feel free to correct me.”

[conflictedenergies]

@asharisen || cont. from here

Vy'cenin had noticed the sulking sin'dorei from a ways away, their own mind mostly occupied by taking notes and wondering. However, they have seen that face many time before in students whose lives had not gone quite as they wanted to.

They put away their notebook and looked around, their eyes landing on a patch of greenery within the city, flowers of all kinds and colors freshening up the feeling of the city.

Nudging Rupgup, Vy'cenin tells the imp they'll be close before walking off towards the flower bed. A blue flower, one with iridescent petals and purple hues, catches their eyes, and they reach down to pluck it. Then, they walk over to the sulking sin'dorei - who they've definitely seen before. Did Vy boop her nose? - and places the flower in her hair.

"It sure looked like it," Vy'cenin says with a smile. "Only the most depressed students of mine have managed to look quite so strikingly defeated."

They motion towards the bench. "May I sit?"

[conflictedenergies]

@moonsfury || cont. from here

One thing Vy’cenin promised themself when they left Quel’thalas was to go see the damage done to Teldrassil with their own eyes. They knew it would be dangerous the moment they set out to do it- but they rumors and news have been too violent, too worrying, too dreadful for Vy to believe them without seeing it themself. Call it ignorance, if you will.

Thus, they venture to Ogrimmar, through Durotar and into Ashenvale. Wild animals wonder the forest and Kaldorei patrol the roads closer around Astranaar, which Cenin don’t pay much mind. They keep to themself, enjoying the scenery and Ashenvale’s pleasant aroma. It’s almost serene.

When they step foot into Darkshore, the air changes immediately. Suddenly, Vy’cenin is crushingly aware of their sore feet and how vulnerable they are.

Still, they venture deeper into the land.

It feels as though the ground itself, even the trees, repulse and Vy’cenin’s presence, and the sense of being watched washes over them. If any kaldorei, or Alliance member of any kind, for that matter, find them now, Vy is doomed.

The top of the burned, ashen and destroyed world tree peeks above the tree-tops. Vy’s eyes widen and their breathing halts; it feels as though someone has punched them in the stomach, forcing all air out of their body, before dumping an entire lake of ice-cold water over their head.

It really is true. Teldrassil is gone.

In their daze, a kaldorei finds them standing on the beach. The kaldorei roars, drawing their blade, and Vy’cenin chokes out a sob as they’re shaken out of their thoughts.

“I heard that- I simply wanted to see if it was true, that- that Teldrassil truly has been destroyed because I- I couldn’t believe it, I just couldn’t believe it when I heard it. Teldrassil, world tree, home to so many, blessed by the dragon Aspects... destroyed?” Cenin says, stumbling over their words, tears streaming down their face. They shake their head violently. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I can’t believe Sylvanas would- that anyone would do this.”

[conflictedenergies]

Vy'cenin simply shakes their head.

“It is true demons and the Fel come from a truly horrendous source, but that in and of itself doesn’t give it any negative or positive value. It’s all what your purpose is with it, and how you use it,” Vy'cenin states simply. “I know Fel, Void, Lich and many other kinds of magic are associated with bad times in history, but that doesn’t make them the cause of these times. In the end, it’s the people who used them’s fault.”

Tired, sunken, and sickly yellow eyes look up to Kirollis, Vy'cenin’s gaze on the mighty glow of Kirollis’ eyes. Vy'cenin’s own sparkle with a sad joy, which their smile mirrors.

“I don’t blame you for thinking and believing what you do, it’s quite the common mindset. It’s how most of us have been raised, or what our experiences have taught us, after all. But bashing on people purely due to the magic they use and surround themselves with is shallow, naive, ignorant, and incredibly arrogant.”

“As for you-” Vy'cenin’s eyes flicker back to Safrona, “-I get the hurt and defensiveness, but easy now, alright? No need to cause an unnecessary scene. You can’t buy me lunch that way.”

@unabashedrebel @safrona-shadowsun

Ruby - Would you consider yourself impulsive or reckless?

A burgundy eyebrow feathered upward at the question, the taken sip of her shot glass both elegant and careful. “Do I seem like the reckless sort?” Safrona’s eyes lower with a considering chuckle. “In the past, maybe. Business requires more finesse and compartmentalization than risk. Impulsiveness breeds mistakes, but it takes making those mistakes to understand how to avoid them sometimes, I suppose. Catch-22 as they say, yes?”

A sigh, and the importer lifted her gaze halfway again, tapping fingers at her glass. “But no, I usually think through things before I act. In business and the personal. I’ve slowed down on the drinking too just to…” A slight hum of dry amusement,” “mitigate potential unnecessary damage.” “

{ @unabashedrebel }

[conflictedenergies]

tag dump I

[conflictedenergies]

Vy’cenin lets out a breath, a tiny sigh of relief. One burden has been lifted, and two more with it, and Vy can let themselves relax and take a seat.

“Thank you, Saedre,” they say before worrying their bottom lip between their teeth. Their mind idly wonders if the explanation they’ve been thinking of will actually make sense - to most people it absolutely wouldn’t, but Saedre already has more than beyond the base level needed knowledge to understand it. Yet, despite knowing that, Vy’cenin still worries.

“The name’s Vy’cenin. I’m a former scholar in the arts of magic and the last few years I’ve been researching the relationship between the different magics,” Vy’cenin starts slowly. Their hands are clasped together in their lap, they can’t quite manage to meet Saedre’s eyes, and they all around look stiff as a stick; all signs of how utterly insecure they are. “My focus has always been balance and how Light, Void, Arcane, and Fel are necessary components of the world, that without them Nature magic wouldn't exist. None of them are inherently good or bad but simply have strengths and weaknesses, just like any living creature, and remove any of them would be catastrophic for life itself.”

As they talk, their body language slowly becomes more alive and animated. Their face eases up and a comfortable smile stretches over their face, their eyes glinting with the joy of sharing their passion.

“A few months ago, I accidentally discovered the needed balance of the four to create synthetic sentience,” Vy’cenin says, waving a hand in the air. A tiny, golden-plated worm of bright, blue magic flies into their hand. Her plated face is animated with emotion, and she coos happily at the chin scratches Vy’cenin gives her. “Ele here, she was the result of that.”

Vy sighs, their face pulling into a sad expression. “I started wondering. If synthetic sentience is this easy to create from magic, why do all the previously encountered examples... why are they all unstable? Why are they so easy to corrupt, or even corrupt themselved upon completion? Or, worst case scenario, why do they blow up? Well.” Vy’cenin thins their lips. Their hands fall back into their lap, and Ele follows, deciding their thighs are a perfect bed for naps. “I tried to use the same formula for Ele, but scaled up. It, uh. Either it destroys itself immediately, after a little while, or I have to do it because it corrupts itself.”

Shaking their head, Vy’cenin lets out a sigh. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I want to know what went wrong in the past- why, and how it can be prevented from happening again. But.” They shrug. “I’m out of my depth.”

@arcanist-starweaver

starter for @arcanist-starweaver ! 

Drumming their fingers against their notebook, pen wedged against their palm and cheek as they lean on the arm, Vy is… absent. Their mind has sought to the stars, only occasionally zoning back into reality when a particularly interesting question or piece of knowledge comes up during the lecture, either from Saedre Starweaver herself or any of the lecture-goers.

With only a few new notes in the notebook, their pen has been almost fairly useless this time around. Vy has attended quite a lot of Saedre’s lectures, and the knowledge they have gained from them has helped quite a lot with their research. Though their methods may be considered… orthodox to Saedre and her audience - as well as the general populace of Dalaran - her years of experience and knowledge in the perspective of said experience has given Vy'cenin tons of valuable information for their balance research- but not this time. Plenty of knowledge and information, of course, but nothing of use to them; nothing that solves the problem plaguing their mind,

They will have to talk with her in person.

As the lecture comes to an end, the room starts to buzz with activity and people’s mumbling as they discuss Saedre’s lecture. A few go to ask her questions in person, all of which Vy’cenin let them have their conversation before they ask theirs. After all, Vy will most likely require Saedre to, uh. See the monstrosities Vy has been attempting to build for quite some time.

“Hello, Starweaver. Not sure what you prefer to be called, that has somehow escaped me despite my attending quite a number of your lectures, and I am now annoyingly aware of how douche-y and self-centric that is, please forgive me,” Vy’cenin suddenly begins to ramble, their words running away from them before their brain processes what’s going on and what they should say.

A wave of embarrassment, disappointment, and shock runs down their spine, blood rushing to their face, as they stumble for words, “Um, I- uh… you- can you- I’ve got, uh, thing- Light, that sounds so, so incredibly wrong, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m such a mess.” They cover their face with their hands.

Deep breaths. In, out; in, out; in, out; and slowly, the pit in Vy’cenin’s stomach dissipates. 

Vy lets their hands fall to their side again, and they look back up at Saedre. “I apologise,” they begin slowly, chewing on words in their head before saying them out loud. “I’ve got a magical project I need help with, and I was hoping your lecture would provide the answers I’m seeking to make it work. It didn’t, so, now I’m asking you personally if you’d please help me because I’m frankly quite lost and it’s incredibly frustrating and annoying.”

[conflictedenergies]

When Safrona speaks and her words hold no angry accusations, they let out a relieved sigh. A smile spreads across their face.

“Oh, perking ears-” Vy’cenin starts before their voice dissolves into a soft laugh. It’s gentle and dreamy, low in volume, and something only meant for people in close quarters; only Safrona can hear it. Vy shakes their head, a tiny smile still stuck to their lips. “I’ll admit, when someone’s ears perk up when they talk of their passions, or something they hold valuable or sentimental... I get all giddy and bend to their will immediately.”

A muscle in their back gives off a strained whine - not literally, of course, but rather that’s how the pain feels - and Vy’cenin leans their elbows on the table to elevate the pain. It might come off as intimidating or eager, but, well- not much Vy’cenin can do about that with a body as fragile as theirs is.

“Turned me off...?” Vy’cenin echoes gently, shock evident on their face. They snort a laugh. “Dear Titans, no. It takes more than a few hallucinations-” Whether they’re genuine hallucinations or echoes of memories, Vy’cenin’s brain helpfully pipes in. They refuse to say that out loud, for fear of poking at things that aren’t their business. “-to scare me off.”

With a shrug, they add a joke that they know is in very bad taste, “It might just get me addicted, to be honest.”

Whether Safrona catches onto what Vy actually means- if she knows what Vy’cenin used to be and almost was, Vy’cenin doesn’t know; she’s a ren’dorei, thus the likelihood of her understanding some vague context is, well, there. But the extend of what she might understand... 

Vy’cenin sighs. They hope she can’t tell the pain behind the joke.

@safrona-shadowsun

cont. from here || @safrona-shadowsun

Fingers fidget with the thin stem of the wine glass - or, rather, what Vy’cenin thinks is a wine glass - rolling it tentatively between their fingers. They do this when they’re thinking, leaving other people to decipher their mood from their face or body language, a task often failed because of the mist of thought that always washes over Vy’cenin’s face.

Except for these rare, memorable occasions. A smile so tiny you’d miss it if you weren’t directly in front of them cradles their face. It lifts up their cheeks and put a sparkle in their eyes that clear up the hazy mist of thought. A smile so subtle, yet only coming from content so deep-felt your heart aches for it afterwards.

Sliding the wine glass back over the counter, back to Safrona, Vy’cenin brings themselves out of their mind to, instead, gaze upon her.

Opening they mouth, all words suddenly die in their throat. How on Azeroth do you casually talk about what you only think is someone else’s memories, friend or not, memory transfer intended or not? Vy’cenin had been far too taken up by the happy babbles of the tiny little elf to consider how many boundaries this probably crosses.

They croak an “Uhm” and clears their throat. Lords above, this is not how they meant for their first visit back at Safrona’s wine bar to be go, new establishment or not.

Light, they are so uncomfortable.

Once again, Vy’cenin clears their throat, and, this time, they actually manage to speak. “New blend?” they ask, motioning towards the - now only partially filled - glass. “It doesn’t quite taste like anything of yours I have tasted before- though, I’m aware I’m probably far from having tried everything you have to offer, and, uhm-” They cut themself off, as if for dramatic effect. Certainly feels as such, with how the atmosphere buzzes excitedly.

“Were the experience of vivid hallucinations that felt a concerningly lot like memories intended?” Now, Vy’cenins heart has picked up its pace, hammering at the inside of their ribcage. They’re looking at Safrona with an expression they hope convey their thoughts of ‘dear lord don’t kill me’, with a touch of ‘I am so sorry for the inconvenience this will undoubtedly bring’. 

Almost four months of staying away from Saf’s company and establishment, only to immediately cause issues for her upon their return? How bloody awkward.