#feyhana

[ahvie-voidsinger]

[RP] Same song, second verse, a little bit darker and little bit worse

The night should have been cold. It usually was cold. It is supposed to be cold this far north, this close to the mountains. Although she probably never felt it for long enough to admit it, she remembered what a midnight breeze felt like. A refreshing caress upon her face in contrast to the near-constant Inner Fire she once drew upon to channel the Light.

She shivered, and not because she was cold. She stopped feeling cold months ago. Years ago. The Light. Sunwell guide her dreams, she thought she could remember what it tasted like to draw on the purified stream of arcane life to help her friends. Only now, amid everything seeming to go wrong around her, that memory was as distant as the nostalgia for a fruity wine she'd shared with... with... her friends. Light, it was a funny thing.

The pale-skinned elf shivered in her shroud of shadows and dimly glowing blue hair, not from discomfort or unease or fear. She knew better than to let those seeds of emotion bloom for long. Lor'danel was still... too painful. The blanket of midnight deeper than a cloudy evening upon the sea had wrapped itself around her as a second nature, a companion, a stray kitten longing for purpose. She might have done more than just dabble in the shadow and the void in her time with the Highguard, but she never claimed to understand it. Iggy warned her about giving into the dark as opposed to the more knowable flame within.

A flame was elemental, primal, but studied and basic. A void, a sentient emptiness, however, was as inscrutable as the reasons why this Light-forsaken war even began. Why it continued. That same conscious quilt of flowing inky violet wreathed around her in a reassuring embrace, warming her in a way that still made her shiver. She knew she should not enjoy it, but a grain in her mind was distictly, begrudgingly aware that she did indeed enjoy her her condition. Or, at least, its silver lining.

Breathing out a sigh, she shook her head slightly, crouched atop a snowladen branch deep in the mountain slope brush, but mere meters from the lonely campfire she'd prepared between both sides. Here, in no-mans-land, only the spies and scouts dared tread. And, maybe, kindred souls who were sleepwalking in a waking dream of days long past when a bouncy, cheerful, short elf in bright crimson silks would ferry food and camaraderie between the commoners of both factions, oblivious to the war.

She had hoped that Vyndoriel would find her missive and maps, and... yet, she also hoped deep down that other souls would dare to shirk the division and distrust that had rent Azeroth asunder worse than any grumpyface dragon aspect could have. Any soul brave enough to risk stepping into the unknown to share soup and break bread under the sky -- the only thing yet untainted by this tragedy of a whirlwind engulfing them all.

Ahvie waited, and watched with unblinking, glowing cerulean eyes that Finryx might once have pointed out as becoming of a voidtouched Ebon; eyes that still caused Vyndoriel and Adriel to instinctively reach for their weapon before hearing her voice marred by the reverb of the void; shimmering azure orbs that once were green to have easily marked her place alongside Iggy, only to now produce anger and disappointment. She didn't blame them for their reactions, their judgment. It was well-founded. She had been reckless, curious, stupid and naive in her hubris, and invoked the attention of the very ethereals that had nearly stolen Alleria and her ren'dorei nutjobs from free will.

Ahvie watched with hope, curiosity and wistful nostalgia as her void-enhanced vision granted her nightsight of the approaching armored blood elf. Unfortunately, or perhaps understandably, the familiar young woman beyond the barren clearing stopped short of exiting the Horde encampment entirely, and the void elf's ears twitched several times.

"a FrIeNd or EnEmY?" the shroud around her asked as it pulsed around her tight black leather catsuit.

Ahvie shook her head, her thoughts forming in her mind's eye as a telepathic bond with the symbiotic and sentient voidcloak the old gods had gifted her with. Was it really alive, or was it her own mind conversing with itself? "Friend. Don't you remember her? That's Fey Fey, one of the first and only Highguard to not immediately see me as an enemy."

The voidcloak around her rippled, her body warmed from the inky mass as suredly as if she were beside that unoccupied campfire beyond. It wafted quietly in the breeze in response. "wOnT yOu SaY hElLo?"

Ahvie risked a smiled and snorted. "That would only put her in danger. We're on a mission tonight."

The needles of the frosted pine jingled lightly to her shadow-enhanced (or corrupted?) ears, but the feminine and childlike drawl of her voidcloak was unmistakably clear in her head. "hMmMmmm... tHe OnE wItH fIrE eYeS. yOu LiKe HiM..."

It was a statement, not a question, and Ahvie huffed, reluctant to admit it. Having a bond with this outcast of the void comforted her at times to know that she and it had something in common, but she could hide nothing from it. The voidcloak rustled again, a childlike giggle in her cognizance, blossoming as though she only just remembered. Even her memory was no longer infallible, and she often worried how much of her unique position in SI:7 was being exploited by N'Zoth.

"bOtH oUtCaSts, BOTH LIKE US," and giggling descended into a chittering that Ahvie was grateful to be masked partially by the whipping winds at this altitude.

"He has a familiar bonded to him, too, yeah. And yet we don't want this war. We're trying to keep the bloodshed to a minimum on both sides," Ahvie replied, whether to herself or to her voidcloak was unclear.

The chittering abated, and the cloak settled in around her body, framing it snugly, as though hugging her reassuredly. She got used to that months ago, as it had saved her ass many times in her dawning and growing experience as a double-agent. Or was it a triple-agent? The warmth of the empty void was... was... was it supposed to be comforting? At least it didn't get grabby with her chest or thighs.

"HoW aRe YoU sUrE tHiS iSn'T wHaT N'zzzzzzoth WaNtS?"

She'd considered that, too. And oft wondered if it would be better if she ended her own life rather than not know if she was secretly a pawn or sleeper agent to the great deep. But, she often reached the same conclusion as now -- when Fey Fey turned back to the tents with a sad look in her glowing gold eyes -- that it was better to live and keep trying to do good with the cards she was dealt. She had brokered alliances, trade deals and friendships between factions before. She could be patient, and hoped against hope that her friends had not grown as corrupted as she had during this costly and intensely personal war.

Whatever the cost, however, Vyn and M had to be informed. Ahvie oft weighed the risks of investigating whether the interim head of SI:7 operations really was Maiev, but time and again decided against it. She already was being closely watched by Alliance brass... or, at least, as closely as those clumsy kaldorei could. They trusted her enough to give her a modicum of power and freedom, and those were two gifts she dared not gamble with. Especially now, with the whispers in her head.

Ahvie suddenly grinned and chuckled to herself as Fey Fey disappeared back behind a tent flap.

"dEfInE iRoNy," came the childlike but girlish voice.

"A servant of neither the void nor the alliance nor the horde, exchanging and trading information between what likely once was former jailor and former prisoner."

"wHeN wE tOo ArE uNsUrE oF wHiCh We ArE."

Ahvie gave her cloak a tug, wrapping it around her back and neck as she relaxed... grinning goofily as she once had -- And quickly perked up as a shadowy figure not ten paces behind her roost approached the trunk of the pine tree in utter silence. She could simply *feel* him at the edge of her mind. Unwilling to give the illidari the satisfaction or belief of having 'won' this game of cat and mouse, Ahvie raised her voice only just so, the slight echo in her voice mimicking that of her visitor's warchief.

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

A gruff male voice as sharp as a glaive fresh from a wound replied, wry amusement in its edge. "I only just dropped my demon's shroud of concealment. I did not want to alarm you."

Ahvie pursed her lips and sulked, grateful he had not yet rounded the trunk to see her pouty expression. Her voidcloak rustled in her ear: "tHiNk ThAts JuSt A bOaSt?"

She grinned and nodded silently, waiting for Vyndoriel to come into view. Her partner in crime had arrived.

She risked an old saying, "For the night is dark,"

To which a dark, not-quite-sinister chuckle emerged from the demon hunter below her, "And full of terrors... like us. Ready to talk business?"

[feyseoyeon]

allure.

starter for @feyhana / 2019

seoyeon loves the bar. the way it was mostly empty during the day but crowded and rowdy by the time the sun had set, the way her regulars were always excited to see her, and sure being hit on by the heavily drunk customers was quite annoying but the bar had been home to many of her exciting nights out and had always helped her financially through the years.

on a particularly quiet evening she eyed a young woman walking into the bar, she had a certain aura surrounding her that made seoyeon interested. she had an air of confidence that seemed to also draw the attention of a few of the men sitting in front of her. seoyeon could guess the type of person this girl was, she looked fun which definitely fit the profile of the friends seoyeon liked to keep around.

she poured a shot and slid it over to the far end of the bar where the girl sat, a knowing smile on seoyeon’s face. perhaps she would be making a new friend by the end of her shift.

only half an hour had passed when handed the girl her next drink. she had seen her fair share of supernatural patrons at the bar so it was never a surprise to find a specific person ordering another shot of soju after their tenth and this girl seemingly fit this description. her demeanour hadn’t changed one bit, unlike the normal human, and her cheeks hadn’t rosied on bit.

“ vampire or werewolf? ” she carried a smirk as she walked over to the girl. seoyeon knew it would be risky to ask such a question, the bar may be home to such people but humans were the main clientele. however, she figures she can pass it off as a joke should she be wrong.

[ahvie-voidsinger]

[RP] The Vol’dun Showdown, Part 1.5

A chilling breeze whistled through the bristling sunbleached skies, picking up pockets of sand and blowing them across the towering dunes. Or, at least, the void elf was fairly certain it was a chilling breeze because it contrasted vividly with the unusual heat she felt beneath the embrace of her sentient voidcloak.

The shadows were always warm and comforting, as though coaxing a moth to the flame. She had yet to fully explore them -- and despite her adventurous nature, she was in no hurry to do so. Some things were better left hidden, buried and imprisoned.

Her voidcloak wrapped around her tightly in the wind, snugly conforming to the subtle curves of her body beneath her inky black leather bodysuit. The void elf sniffed, whether from impatience or from curiosity wasn’t clear. The refreshing gales of the windswept sands of Vol’dun smelled sugary, dry and full of dread. Wartime was afoot now more than ever, even in the aftermath of the Alliance’s invasion. Both sides were keenly aware of garrison forces maintaining a presence distant from one another, but ... it smelled good. And Ahvie didn’t like that one bit.

The desertlike sweetness of the blasted and ancient landscape reminded the crouching ren’dorei of better times in an equally parched foreign land. Back when she still drank in the Light and Shadow alike. Years ago, Alliance and Horde still fought each other amid a painfully obvious attempt from a third party to take advantage of the chaos to sneak a superweapon right under their noses. One of many Uldum campaigns, Ahvie risked a smile as the memories of her first encounter with The Seventy-Third resurfaced, warming her heart in a way the void never had.

Then, she was a blood elf clad in a much more suggestive crimson bodysuit and flowing hooded cloak. Then, she dared to disobey orders and seek social interaction with members of the Alliance. Then, she risked breaking bread and sharing music and stories with strangers that were less hostile than the Warchief had let on. Then, she had laughed, hoped and lived a waking dream of the potential both sides could find common ground.

No such camaraderie was present now. The euphoric dream of the good old days had since been twisted into a corrupted nightmare, as though Malfurion and his wardens never cleansed Xavius’ corruption from the true dream. Ahvie dreamed about what the Emerald Dream must be like, but now she wasn’t sure if those dreams were originally hers or some dark portent of the drowned god. N’Zoth drank on everyone’s desires, and sometimes hubris became manifest as cruel reflections of a world that should have been.

“Many such shadows have gone unaltered, lighting the way for the blind to see the truth of their prison. How little children learn,” Ahvie muttered to herself, barely aware of what she was saying.

Her voidcloak rustled as though the wind had blown against it, but no such breeze had returned. A sultry, girlish voice spoke in Ahvie’s head through the bond they shared.

“ThErE yOu Go AgAiN. sPeAkInG iN tHe OlD tOnGuE,” the voice said with a giggle. “wAkE uP, aHvIe.”

The void elf shuddered almost violently, and a rippled passed through her inky leather armor. Ahvie was vaguely aware of how she felt through her suit as though it had become her new skin, but her mind’s eye was pulled through to reality as a fisherman’s hook would a complacent minnow. She blinked a few times, her cerulean orbs of unnatural void light the only beacons of untruth suggesting that a creature lurked in the shadows of a rocky outcropping.

Ahvie sighed, exhaling as though only just having come up for air after a long dive. “Thanks, Perse. It’s easy to get lost in my own head lately. I miss what used to be.”

The voidcloak whom Ahvie had affectionately called ‘Perse’ laughed in an unsteady, off-key musical manner. “aS dO i, LiTtLe StOrM. i HaD fOrM, wAs CoMpLeTe, A cRiMsOn AnGeL tO sInG dEaTh In EaRs Of SaIlOrS.”

Ahvie had heard this before, but smiled internally at the mental image. Her memories were already suspect, prone to being altered or corrupted by N’Zoth, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t been the very bloody angel her cloak had been referring to. A radiant and beautiful healer, sheathed in tight and flowing red silks, commanding the hearts and minds of her fellow pirates. What remained as a kernel of doubt like a bit of food she was choking on, was whether her cloak gained sentience after her void accident … or whether Perse indeed used to be a siren of the seas who saw Ahvie as a kindred spirit, cast about in the storm roiled by the old gods.

“I bet you were beautiful and terrible to behold. A woman after my own heart,” Ahvie said with a hint of a grin.

The voidcloak hugged her tighter in certain places around her body, if only briefly, which Ahvie didn’t mind but still responded with a stifled gasp. “wE bOtH wErE, sIsTeR. wHaT sQuAlL sHaLl We FiGhT tOnIgHt?”

“We’re keeping an eye on Fey Fey. The major battles might be over for now, but she still is stationed on the front,” and as though to emphasize this, the ren’dorei leaned forward, her glowing eyes fixated on the Horde camp below.

The sun was beginning to set, and the shadows cast by the ancient ruins and rocky cliffs grew longer and deeper.

“tHiNkInG oF yOuR … hMmMm … LiTtLe SiStEr?” Perse hummed with another giggle.  Ahvie’s eyes twitched at the same time her ears did, and she relented.

“Sure, she does remind me of my family. They’re still safe, for now, in the backwaters of Eversong. Away from war. Fey… she’s —“

“sTiLl YoUnG,” followed by a pause, almost a gasp of unexpected discovery echoing in her mind. “tHe ShAdOwS wHiSpEr, AhViE.”

The elf didn’t bat an eye, her eyes focused and following the armored paladin making her way through the Horde camp. Her ears, however, began twitching again. “Don’t they always? What do they say?”

A longer pause. Maybe Perse was listening with whatever ears she had… or maybe she was listening through Ahvie’s ears. That was a weird thought.

“dAnGeR aBoUt. rEfLeCtIoNs GoInG aLtErEd. An EnIgMa RoIlInG tHe LiGhT.”

Ahvie’s eyes darted about briefly, daring to lose sight of Feyhana to scan the horizon for that disturbance both of them felt. The hidden hand of N’Zoth was distinctly heavy the past few weeks, but this was different. This was something Ahvie hadn’t felt since her last visit to Stormwind. Something familiar, but also sinister.

Ahvie squinted as her voidcloak shifted in the breeze to shield her eyes from the dimming rays of the sunset. It wasn’t as bad this time as watching Mythrax rise from the deep, but her gut told her that she should be on guard. She hopped down from her perch to the sands below, making not a sound as she landed.

Tumbling and rolling into the crevices unguarded by even the dark rangers, Ahvie’s cloak balled up around her and allowed the rogue to blend in with the inky blackness of approaching night.

As the void elf darted from shadow to shadow to avoid the radiant pools of torchlight emerging across the Horde camp, she could distinctly smell the font of Light from Fey’s heart, and felt it grow more distant, away from the camp. Toward no-mans-land… and alone.

“dAnGeRoUs To PaTrOl AlOnE. eVeN yOu RiSkEd MuCh To dO sO.”

“Ever wonder if we were together all along?”

“mMmMmMm…” Perse hummed as the pair frolicked among the growing void cast by nearby soldiers and bonfires. “mAnY oLd OnEs WeRe TraPpEd LiKe Me, RoBbEd Of ThEiR iMmOrTaL fLeSh.”

Ahvie grimaced internally internally at that, and she quickened her pace, trying to make up for lost time to more closely shadow her old friend.

Within a minute, she had reached the periphery of the Horde camp and got away with an Ahvie-like desire to cop the feel of one of the Dark Rangers before their red eyes could focus on the slippery mass of shadows left behind by the voidcloak.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the ren’dorei relaxed some as she crested one of the colossal sand dunes and put herself out of line of sight of the Horde sentries. Here, in the dimming sunlight, the absence of luminescene created periodic abysses that shifted with the rapidly cooling wind.

Ahvie spoke to Perse in her mind’s eye, swearing off using her physical voice until dawn had returned.

What do you sense, Perse?

“tHe CiRcLe Of StArS hAs WrItTeN a NeW sOnG.”

Ahvie continued trudging up the next sand bank, Fey’s beaconlike presence within earshot. She could practically taste her Light from this distance.

… And what does she sing of?

“tHaT tHe ChIlDrEn Of ThE vOiD mAkE tHeIr OwN fAtE.”

Ahvie froze in her tracks, daring to pause her friendly stalking to dwell just on that moment. That terrible, glorious, awe-inspiring thought. There were many things Ahvie couldn’t understand about the puzzles of the Void, the riddles she and others often spoke in when the old ones gripped their mind and bodies. But she knew long ago, back during the Legion invasion, that the Circle of Stars was a prisoner much like her, like Perse and like most of the void elves. Only so much more… and often was misunderstood. But the context? Why sing a song of sixpence now?

Make their own …?

“yEs. NeArBy.”

Ahvie reached out with her mind and drew on the pool of void in her corrupted heart, and teleported a few feet forward, appearing atop the sand dune in an instant. Harsh whispers and crass insane laughter as quiet as the sand crunching beneath her feet followed in her wake, only to die out with the afternoon breeze. As the tendrils of shadow peeled away from her, Ahvie looked down at where Fey had been below, her voidcloak rippling and sailing in the desert gale like a proud flag.

Feyhana was gone, but in the paladin’s stead was an ominous sinkhole in a rotted, drying patch of mud and dirt. Ahvie sprinted down to its edge, drawing on more and more void energy from around her and within to muffle the sounds of her leather against the sand. Coming to a halt at the edge of the pit, the ren’dorei crouched at the cusp and leaned forward slightly, Perse wrapping her in a concealing shroud of misty, inky night.

Feyhana was alive, and although she appeared wounded and even bloodied from the fall, her Light still beat as a lighthouse in the sea of encroaching night. Then a voice echoed from below. Not a voice, though… a whisper.

“The Light is with you, young Fey…” to which the young sin’dorei spun around at her surroundings, clad barely in the light of the setting sun. “ … but you are not a paladin yet.”

That heavy knot in her mind grew more distinct, as though one such reflection of the evening had become manifest just meters below her. Instinctively, she embraced the hissing of the void rampant in Vol’dun, and drank in the power to mask as much of her presence as possible. To become one with the void in order to hide from the void.

The flood of awareness, wisdom, experience, insanity and emotions boiled around her as a hurricane, and Ahvie almost was caught up in its floodwaters if it wasn’t for a tether of viscera and blood holding her mind and heart steady, the lone mast yet unbroken in the chittering echoes of Nyalotha.

“dOnT gO aDrIfT, sIsTeR. sTaY wItH mE. wE wIlL nOt Be sLaVeS aGaIn. NzzzzzzzOtH sEeKs A nEw SoUl FoR hIs – “

Oh Blessed Sun, thank you! What the fel is all this?!

“eVeRy ChOrUs HaS sPlInTeReD nOw ThAt ShE iS fReE. lIStEn…”

And Ahvie’s world refocused into the now, the physical world of the real, and her ears twitched as she heard quite perfectly the whisper of an entirely different entity below her, just out of sight.

“Don’t act so surprised. You should have known this was coming eventually,” said a male voice teeming with vibrato and snarky edge. Another ren’dorei.

Which would explain the familiar yet terrifying sense of kindred she could taste in the edge of her mind. She hoped against all hope that her embrace of the Old Gods’ symphony, however temporary she might have intended it to be, would keep the other void elf from precisely placing his finger on who or what she was. Or where.

If he can’t sense me at all, I might be able to tell what’s going on and maybe do something about it if Fey is in danger.

“sHe Is mOsT dEfInItElY iN dAnGeR,” Perse said in reply to her thoughts.

“The Light is indeed your ally, Fey. Strong, but fleeting,” the man mumbled in the pit below, confident. “Mine is the dark, and if nothing else, it is patient.”

Ahvie didn’t like the sound of that, and from what she could tell from Fey’s expression, neither did the young woman. Holding a hand to her wounds, Feyhana was bleeding both life and Light. And, as every creature of the night was well aware without even looking at it, the sun was quickly disappearing from view.

Ahvie tensed, drawing her twin ghostblades in each hand, their ethereal metal glowing eerily and gracefully in the growing shadows. Perse wrapped around Ahvie’s neck and face, hiding all but her eyes as the sentient garment flared out from behind her as a banner in the headwinds. The warmth of the void and the raging choir of insanity played at the periphery of Ahvie’s senses while she focused on the eye of the storm.

She waited on a knife’s edge for the right moment to save her friend if she would have to.