#but i think having more than a few interactions would be enough for beloris to feel some kind of nostalgia

[bel-archive]

Gerascophobia: Our muses meet each other forty years from now. For Mar? Mwahahahahahaaaaaa

[[Phobia Drabbles]]

     Old age was something that had eluded being a conscious thought in the blood elf’s mind for quite some time now. He had not seen an elder in Silvermoon since his adolescent years. Most had died during the Scourge invasion, he could only assume they were too old to fight back or flee fast enough. The lucky few succumbed to the worst of their withdrawals.     Still, he was at least somewhat aware that the life spans of the many races of Azeroth were greatly and wildly variable - the blood elves being lucky enough to land on the more long-lived side of the spectrum.     It was a foreign, almost jarring sight now to see the tolls of old age befall the more fleeting races.

     He had barely reached the peak of his adulthood, just a decade shy of middle aged perhaps. He had not changed much save for darker rings under his eyes and paler skin. Even after so long, it didn’t seem like the warlock was opting to eat much and his hair now rested upon his back in a loose braid, ending about halfway.     The half-orc, on the other hand. By the Light had she changed since he last remembered. Had he seen it coming? Seen the progressive, slow creep of age? It escaped him. Still, he felt…displaced. As though he were the anomaly in the stream of time, watching the world outpace him as he stood solitary and still.

     “You’ve aged some,” Was all that he could muster while still keeping a weary smile on his face. It seemed a tired shadow of the cocky smirk he usually still carried but he knew it likely wouldn’t matter much to Mar anyway.     “Indulge me. Let me keep you company a short while.”     While he still could.