#embarrassing to admit but my hearth like skipped a beat when i saw these. his hair is so long!!!!!

[vampyretaemin]

his hair… so long

[brian-wellson]

(( CW — this one is disturbing, possibly triggering. ))

I.

“More wine?” asked Jennifer. The sommelier moved effortlessly across the room toward the assemblage of bottles she had brought from her own collection. Her long, white dress barely brushed the gleaming, varnished floor, a stark contrast to the black gemstones of her necklace and bracelet set.

“Mmhmm,” replied Cliara. “Something from the northlands.” The ren’dorei’s ears twitched in anticipation. Wellson had never seen her dressed up before. True, while not a traditional outfit, her ugly Winter Veil sweater was festive enough. Plus, it reminded him of Trin, and the night she —

“Let’s see... I have a 30 year Alterac Pinot Noir, and ... hm,” muttered Jennifer as she searched through the bottles. “A few different Gilnean brandies of various ages and vineyards.”

“Brandy,” said Cliara. Jennifer did not move. Cliara rolled her eyes. “Please.”

Jennifer smiled and poured out a rather generous amount of brandy. “VSOP, from a old vineyard in the Highlands,” she said, placing the snifter in front of the ren’dorei. After watching her try the brandy, Jennifer turned to Glenice — a woman who had, not unexpectedly, attempted to look anything but the naval investigator she was.

“Three fingers, scotch, thanks,” Glenice said, never taking her eyes off of Wellson.

He was sitting at the right side of the still-empty head of the table. Across from him, Cliara; next to her, Jennifer; across from Jennifer, Justine; at the opposite head of the table, Glenice. Others had joined and come and left, too. Henry and Elunara. Birdhat. Gwen. They had come by to say hello and have a bit of eggnog; well, all except for Gwen, who picked something from her hair and had hesitantly given it to him as a present. All the while, Wellson and Justine and Nihil had been cooking, together, just as they had in years prior. Their dinner was largely over. The cottage was filled with the scents of roasted fowl, braised boar shank, maple glazed parsnips. And, of course, the stone-fruit pies baking in the background.

Everyone who had attended that evening was rather tipsy at this point. Wellson glanced out toward the dining room. The fireplace crackled, like a good dwarven hearth fire. The guests were laughing, talking; he wondered why these particular people had even shown up in the first place when his true friends, they had not. To be sure, Wellson had to admit that he was confused. With the exception of Jennifer and Cliara, none of the other attendees had been invited. Indeed, the others believed to have invited — Kyara and Juniper, Dr Thalsian, and Quai (and her horrible brother) — had not shown up at all. He had not expected them all to attend, though a raven message or two would have been nice. He grimaced to himself.

“You good, boss?” asked Justine as she dusted the pies with confectionary sugar. In the background, Nihil, her half-elf lover, was filling the port glasses.

He looked over toward Justine. “Fine,” he replied with a chuckle. “Though I am starting to tire.”

Justine set down the confectionary sugar. “Go sit down. Wait. She will show up,” she said.

Wellson nodded. She will. She always does.

II.

He took his seat next to the empty head of the table. Soon, pie and port were delivered to each guest. The dark berries of the pie reminded him of Gooseberries or of cherries. They smelled heavenly, a rich bouquet of dark jam; he had been insistent that they boil the berries down as much as possible. The black juices ran out of the pie, and — when set against the white porcelain of the dishes — looked like small pools of blood.

“Now, I know it’s customary to have a glass of port prior to the pie, to raise a glass to those we love,” he said, nodding toward Quai’s empty chair, “and to those whom we may even begrudgingly respect...”

Glenice looked up toward him. She massaged her scarred throat, took a stiff shot of scotch, and nodded.

“However, Quai would kill me if I drank this without her here, so I think that is something we shall avoid,” he said, adding, “Besides, there is some in the pie already.”

“At least you know something about your partner,” quipped Glenice. She took another hit from the scotch.

“That’s not really fair, Major,” said Justine, raising her voice. “He knows far more about you than he’d ever say.”

Glenice shrugged, remaining silent.

“Besides,” said Nihil, “it wasn’t you who found the person who hurt me.”

Wellson looked over toward her. Her delicate elven features flashed into a bruised and disfigured mess for an instant. An image of bloodied brass knuckles flashed through his mind. He blinked. Everything was normal. What was that?

“Yeah, yeah,” said Glenice.

Wellson cleared his throat. It was getting a bit stuffy in the room. He took up one of the garnishes he had used for the boar shank. Like an orchid, it was pink and white, though with voluminous (half-eaten) petals. He turned it over in his hands. He had missed beauty such as this — this simple flower, these respected peers, a room which, even while stuffy, still smelled delightful. The fire continued to crackle on as the group enjoyed their pie. Cliara and Justine, they actually managed to get along quite well, despite the latter’s well known dislike of anything sin’dorei related.

“How is the monster hunting business,” asked Wellson.

Cliara looked slightly embarrassed. “Fine,” she mumbled. She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “I’m trained well, out in the field. Seen some crazy things. You know,” she said.

“Make it up to Northrend yet?”

“No, don’t think so.”

“Avoid Grizzly Hills.”

“Why?”

“Just... please do,” he said.

“I go where the business takes me, Brian,” she said.

“Fair,” he conceded.

As the pies were eaten, a growing feeling of malaise began to sink in. Was she coming? he wondered, flipping the velvet box in his pocket.

“She’ll be here, boss,” said Justine. She knew.

“And I,” said Glenice, way more than half-in-the-bag, “need a gryphon ride home. What do you think, Commissary Hotchner?”

“Indeed.” Jennifer nodded. “As much as I would love to stay for a toast, I do have my own life to which I must attend.” She shook her head. “No one likes executing a funeral in the cold,” she said. Jennifer crossed her lips with her fingers, a black ‘x’ it had left behind faded to nothing. Wellson could feel himself doing the same, though not remembering why. “And I do not wish to keep the Vicar waiting. You know how impatient she can be,” she said.

The group bid the two good evening. Justine and Nihil, neither of whom were drinkers, left for the back bedroom, and, soon enough, Cliara was called away via her commstone; apparently, there was a ship heading north, toward the dwindling war, and she was needed. A gust of wind blew the door open, and she excused herself before vanishing into the dark. She did not close the door. Grumping to himself, Wellson stood. He wiped his brow. Certainly the fire was not this hot, he thought. And, just as he was about to shut it, Quai was there, standing before him. With a woman.

III.

“You came...” he gasped.

“Oi, ya, so did I, bruv,” said the other woman.

“J-Jocelyn...?”

The two long-departed siblings stared at each other for a moment. Wellson saw the glint of his mother’s charm bracelet on Jocelyn’s wrist. A lump formed in his throat; he could swear that, off in the distance, he could hear her being hacked to pieces...

“You gonna let us in or make us freeze?”she asked.

Wellson gestured. “C-come in, please,” he said, hurriedly.

He watched as the two entered the room. They moved timidly. Maybe they were just cold still, he thought. “Please, please come in. Let me take your overcoats. We can dry them by the fire,” he said.

The two women exchanged a confused glance. They took off their overcoats as suggested. He hung them on a black, cast iron coatrack near the hearth. It no longer felt as hot as it had. He massaged his chest; his heart, it was skipping beats. Seeing Quai made him nervous, apparently.

“I ... am so glad y-you made it,” he iterated, taking his seat. He gestured for Quai to sit at the head of the table. She did so reluctantly. Jocelyn wandered into the kitchen. “Justine is going to be thrilled to see you,” he said.

Quai raised an eyebrow. “Justine?”

“Mm... I had the Major and the Commissary here, too, but they’ve ugh —” he said, gripping his stomach. Quai began to look about the table, eyes locking onto the half-eaten flower. In addition, there were glasses of all kinds, wine and liquor bottles of rare vintage, and not a single crumb on the table at any other place-setting than his. Perhaps more alarmingly, while every seat had an unconsumed glass of port, her’s did not. And the boot flask she had given him was the table’s centrepiece, where a candelabra should have been.

“What did you have?” she asked. She took his hand. It was clammy. “For dinner, I mean.”

Wellson undid his collar. “Roasted boar-shank, garnished with an orchid; local duck, stuffed and baked; maple-glazed parsnips; and an amazing stone-fruit pie. Nihil did an outstanding job.” He offered her the best smile he could.

“N-Nihil,” stammered Quai. Not good. “Where are they now, Justine and Nihil?”

Wellson’s face flushed. “The back bedroom,” he said.

“Jocelyn!” Quai called.

“Wot ya want now? I was just gonna have some of this fuckin’ pie. Smells fuckin’ great, lady.”

“Before you do,” said Quai, her voice singsong-like, “Check the back bedroom.”

“But... but pie!” whined Jocelyn.

Quai frowned™. “Do it now.”

Rather alarmed by Quai’s tone, Jocelyn stomped through the cottage. “Some fuckin’ reunion...” she mumbled.

After she had left the room, Wellson removed the small velvet box from his pocket. He opened it. The ring inside, it shined — sparkling as so many nights under the stars.

“My grandmother’s ring,” whispered Quai. A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Will you...?”

“Brian...”

Quai took the ring, turning it over in her hand.

“Your g-grandfather s-said...”

“I know,” she said, softly. She placed the ring back in the box. “I will take this, ok? Keep it safe until...” She shifted uneasily.

Jocelyn stumbled back into the room. “Ain’ no one back there,” she said. “Pie. Now.”

Quai snapped her fingers. Wellson did not hear it; Jocelyn did, though, and she stared. “No pie for you,” Quai spat. “Nor for anyone else.”

Wellson was confused. No pie? For his own sister? He blinked his eyes. The elaborate, warm decor he had envisioned began to dissolve. Chestnut turned to decrepit, grey wood; an overchair into a stool. His once white-clothed table, barren except for his own paltry meal, and glasses here and there. No fire in the hearth. His cheek twitched. “Quai, I don’t feel...” he managed. His mind began to ring:

...we have a pact...

“Stay here with me?” he sputtered.

She replied. He could not understand her. She swiped at the glass of port in his hand, but missed. She watched as he drained the glass. The port would end it — she knew.

“T-this was all f-for you...” he said, eyes locked onto the ring in the box. “Y-you... Andrew... to live...”

Quai said something once again. Her voice was louder, yet he still could not understand her; her words, they made no sense.

As the room grew dimmer and dimmer, Wellson felt his sister come back into the room. He could feel himself being laid on his side. He could feel his body go rigid, back-breakingly so. He could no longer see. His heart was skipping beats, slowing over time. Someone forced something into his mouth. He could feel himself vomit. The whispers in his mind finally died away. For the first time since Darkshore, he felt peaceful.

“Q-Quai...” he whispered. “Elune help...”

He reached an unsteady arm upward. Someone took it. Someone told him he was going to be ok, that they would see him recover. His body felt like it was being squeezed, like before he had left the Manor. And then, then he could hear screaming. He could hear crying. And then everything simply faded — until nothing remained.

Nothing.

— — • — —

( @quai-mason @jocelyn-wellson / @glenicemorcant @mastersommelierjennifer @justinegrotius @seattlebourne / @killerkyara @juniper-rose-blower @thalsianiii // cc: @risrielthron )

(( Disclaimer: If you or someone you know is in crisis, please call your doctor, call 911, or go directly to the Emergency Trauma Centre. ))

[bloodyangel-666]

Muriel x f! Mc

Well, no spoilers for the story this time. Just some angsty fluff with Muriel and my apprentice. Sorry for the grammar mistakes.

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The cold rain was intoxicating her lungs, her breath being taken long ago. Her scars, some of them still open, covered her body like a broken shield. A broken shield that was supposed to face a storm. No longer she'd take her rest because she was facing her own hell, a battle with no enemies but her own mind. Terrifying nightmare conjured her soul, waking her up at the cruel reality. Alone in the woods and storm. Alone on the battlefield. The thunders echoed in each direction and she was too scared to look back now. The wind howled and blew a bitter chill past the dying trees; it danced with the leaves and dragged them away unwillingly from the autumn ground. The floor was damp and stagnant with the odor of decomposing wood, diamonds pierced the black sheet held up above and looked down with vengeance. The forest seemed to never end; tall silhouettes shadowing the ground ravens circling overhead and screams echoing through the wind. Beady eyes hidden within the bramble scanned the area, oblivious that they were prey to this Forrest. A paranormal presence lurked in the essence of the devil's grasp, shadowing each living organism with dire precision. She was at the end of her forces and no longer supporting her own height, collapsed on the ground, the world around her fading to darkness.

When she woke up, a wolf was leaking her face pitifully. She was about to freak out but when she made her first move to stand up of the ground, the wolf started to move her tail happily. At least, Amelin thought the animal was a girl. She was still covered in bruises and her head was spinning, but the wolf insistent to follow her deeper into the forest. She sighed and tried to at least crawl out of the dirt.  With a little bit of effort, she succeeds to stand up and walk next to the wolf, who was now walking at an easy peace. Not after a long time, they arrived at some sort of house, a hut to be more exact, and the wolf was pushing with her paws the door for the witch to open. Amelin was unsure at first, breaking into someone house, someone who lived in this forest, but the wolf saved her and she was definitely trying to keep her safe. Or make me the dinner of someone. She thought. Well, she was hella alone and scared. This little creature of cuteness was her only light right now. At least he had nothing to lose if she'd die now...

The old rock house covered in moss, half buried under the roots of a twisting tree and has many protections around, was more comfortable inside than how it seemed outside. The hut has a "natural ceiling" and a hearth built into one of the walls. Inside was still warm, so the fire hasn't died long ago. In one corner of the room was a bed with a lot of blankets on it. It's looked so appealing... No, she was in a stranger house. She'd had to know better than to sleep in that bed. Her eyes wondered in the dark to see something else in this tiny house, but the blackness was more than her eyes can take. Maybe if she will lit the fire again. But when the magician was about to get some wood logs from outside, the door shut open, a gigantic shadow appeared in the door frame. It was clearly a man, a very muscular and tall one. Amelin froze in place, trying to remember if she lost her spear too.  Or the sword. Or the daggers... Yeah, well, not the best moment to remember what happened. Her trial of thoughts was interrupted by the deep voice of the man.

"What are you doing here?"

She looked up at the man in front of her. Green eyes shining with anger and curiosity, black messy hair covering a part of his face. Even so, he wears a ragged black pelt around himself, she still can see the scars that covered his body. Just like hers...

"I-um... I'm so sorry. I was lost and the wolf founded me and dragged me here and I didn't mean to break into your house I'm sorry again-"

"Inanna brought you here...?"

"Umm...excuse me, who?"

Then the man was gesturing to the wolf who was more than happy to move her tail around and Amelin can swear she saw a grin on the animal face.

"Oh... Inanna is her name? It's beautiful."

A long pause followed after, then he spoke, this time with a soft tone.

"You are bleeding."

She looked over her shoulder, where a deep cut was seen.

"It's nothing. Just a scratch."

"You are bleeding on my floor. It's not just a scratch."

"I'm sorry about that. Look I will just go and-"

"Stay."

"W-what?"

"You are bleeding. And Inanna brought you here, so she really trusts you. So you are staying until you are better."

"No no no no. Really, I just bother you and Inanna was maybe hungry and just wanted to eat me and-"

She continued babbling about everything that proves she was an intruder in his house, but he wasn't listening anymore. The man wasn't fond of people, in fact, he was trying his best to avoid them, but the girl in front of him looked so scared and lost like he was once, and Inanna was just looking at him happier than ever, with a look that says "She's staying over the night even if you like it or not." Well, it's not like she would remember him the next morning, so what he had to lose?

"You are staying. No more arguing about it."

"Oh, ok."

"Let me see your arm."

"What? No, it's fine really, the wound will be fading and no need to worry 'bout it." She smiled, trying to convince him not to clean her wound.

The man in front of her frowned, grabbing lightly her arm and guided her over the bed to look at it better. Well, at least trying, because the room was still covered in darkness. Sighing he looked over her with pleading eyes, saying without words an apology and hoping she will stay where she was right now until he will come back with some wood for the fire. She nodded, smiling at him. He was so nice to her. It felt like a dream, and if she was in a come, she wouldn't want to wake up now. No one was so nice to her in a very long time...

When he comes back, she was still deep in her thoughts. He frowned again. What was a petite girl like her doing alone in the forest? He cursed the wolf under his breath for taking someone in his hut. Not he was complaining, but he still hated to be around people. When he approached her, she jumped a little. After a few seconds, the magician realized it was just the man and smiled timidly.

"You didn't tell me your name." She constates.

The mountain man was taken aback by this and said nothing.

"..."

"Come on. If I tell you my name first, would you tell me yours?"

"..."

"My name is Amelin. And you are mister mysterious man...?

"......... Muriel."

She looked at him like she was struck by lightning.

"Muriel...like the fallen angel of hope."

"Huh?!"

"I love your name. It's the name of a survivor."

Now his face was covered in a deep dark blush and he looked everywhere else but not at her. This girl just told him that... Inanna is going to be so grounded for the situation she puts him through.

"See. You are pouting." She said with a small chuckle.

"......"

She was still smiling at him, a bright smile that made his heart skip some beats, and he was hella of scared about it.

"Are you ok? Do you have a fever? Did you catch it outside? Can I help you?"

The girl seemed truly concerned about him, but he was completely fine. Except for the crimson blush and the embarrassment he felt. But the girl won't stop talking and he was about to lose it.

"Get out of my hut." He said it like a whisper. He didn't mean it.

"Huh? I thought you wanted me to stay." She was teasing him. "But if you insist..."

"....."

Damnit with this girl. He grabbed the wet cloth and gently took her arm in his. Before she could argue, he let her jacket fell to the floor to have better access to the wound, leaving her in a dirty blue and white dress and some leather belt. First, he saw just the wound he was looking for. And then, he saw the rest of them. Horrified, he looked at her scars and uncontrollable anger rushed over him. Who did this?!

Her body was literally covered in scars. Her arms, her neck, her legs, even a part of her face. How didn't he saw them earlier?

"Who did this...?" He frowned when she stayed silent, to scared to admit. "Who did this to you?!"

"My family..." Came her faded answer.

Well, Muriel didn't expect that one. He looked at the girl with thousands of emotions. Anger, pity, sadness, fear, regret, guilt. If he had known... So that's why Inanna brought her there...

He wanted to ask what happened, but he felt like it will be too much. He understands what witch is feeling. He had his own scars, but his scars were from a totally different reason. What will she think if she would know his story...?

"Muriel, look. I'm sorry for breaking in and wasting your time. I really should go so you and Inanna can have some rest."

"You're staying. Please."

"Huh? But I bother you and-"

"You don't."

"But the scars..."

He was frowning again. Was she ashamed about her scars?

"Do they bother you? Your scars?"

"Well, sometimes. They remind me of what have I done. What I am..."

Muriel was completely confused. What a girl like her could have done. It's not like she was like him in the past. Right?

"I..... I have scars too..."

Amelin looked at him. She really wanted to see them. To know... The magician pulled his pelt down so she could look better at what he assumed were his scars. And indeed, there were scars covering his body. They looked like battle scars. Huh, he must have been through a lot. She trailed each one she could reach with her fingers trying not to make him uncomfortable, but clearly, he was. So she stopped.

"I told you, you are a survivor." She paused and then smiled at him. "I don't know what you have been through, but you survived. You should be glad because I sure am glad to meet you."

The witch words left him speechless. No, he wasn't glad he survived. He hated the scars. They were a part of him that he wanted to forget more than anything. But... The girl was the same as him... Muriel wanted to say something, but the words didn't come out, so he stayed in silence and finished cleaning her wound. When he was done, the mountain man made the bed for her and took some fur covers to lay them down on the floor for him. She watched the man, and when she finally understood was he was doing, she stopped him. There was no way in hell he will sleep on the floor.

"Oh no no no no. You are not sleeping there." She said frowning. "I am the guest, I should sleep there."

"Well, ,you're not sleeping there either."

The two of them looked at each other for the other to give in, but Inanna was faster than them and she curled up in the bed. Muriel looked at her as a parent about to ground his child, but Amelin just chuckled.

"Well, I guess we both will sleep on the floor."

"No. Inanna, it's not the time to play games."

So the wolf listened to him and got down of the bed, making herself comfortable on the fur that was on the floor, making no access for any of them to lay down with her. Sighing, Muriel looked at the magician with a look that clearly apologizes for this situation. But she just smiled and lay down on the bed, making room for him too. He hesitated a little, but then he was laying down next to her, his back at her back, not to make the situation more awkward than it already was.

"Good night Muriel. And thank you."

"Good night."

Bonus:

She drifted asleep way too late, but when he woke up, Inanna was already at the door, wanting to go outside. Amelin was about to get off the bed to open the door for the wolf, but two strong arms kept her in place. She looked up to see Muriel's sleeping face. A small smile was forming at the corner of her mouth, and she was about to cuddle with him, but the wolf whines. Amelin chuckled and pushed gently the man arms off of her. After she made her way to the door, the witch decided to make breakfast for both of them with the food she still had in her bag. Well, hoped she still had.

By the time he was baking some eggs, Muriel woke up and looked at her like any normal person would look at an alien.

"Oh! Good morning, Muriel. I made breakfast!"

His expression was priceless. The shock was written all over his face and a dark blush was covering it too.

"You remember me?!"

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I will let you decide what's next :))

Here we go sweetheart ^^ @apprentice-melphina