#ruecien

[kharrisdawndancer]

DWC Feb 2024 - Day 1 - Flirt/Casualty - Braedyn

"Notes"

Ruecien was asleep when I got here, enjoying  the last rays of sunlight. Did I only dream he was a poet?

Junarra flirts, in her way, with everyone. That ‘Trade Princess’ charm. She’s an asset, whether she knows it or not. I’m grateful she is here, for the quiet ones.

Kerrana keeps her expressions close, and I see a glimpse of myself a few years down the road.

Khidell is passionate about his pleasures. From chocolate cake to Hearthstone to thistle. He is not a frequent guest, but he reminds me to pay attention to the moment.

Onyx had been a surprise; but wasn’t she always? I am never sure how to take her bombastic declarations. The coffee is a casualty of her capricious nature. Would she really dump it in  someone’s lap? … Or was it just a comment meant to shock us into thinking about her? Vixannya slides through the evening like smoke curling from a candle. Her confidence is alluring.

Kaisina was finding her place. Sharing was a double edged sword for her and she danced, trying to find the balance between opening her heart and pressing against boundaries. The dragon racer, Hylcind, had a rough and tumble look about her; a life well-lived, and a heart that remembered it, apparently. Ruecien had felt badly for not knowing, I think, but she seemed to take it as a gift that someone else remembered her late husband. Gracious in a way most might envy.

Sana had become sweeter through the years, though still so guarded. Her efforts were steady. I feel she’s doing better for herself, but I am also sure I would never know if I was wrong.

Andaeros always teases, but it’s never too sharp and does not cut the way others do. He brings  smiles and warmth with him frequently. He rounds many of our edges, I think.

@daily-writing-challenge

mentions: @ruecien Junara B. Gogo @the-man-with-the-mohawk 's Khidell @laceandhalos 's Onyx, @vixannya, @kaisinasunblade , Hylcind , @twosidedsana, @andaerosdawnflare

[ruecien]

Sharing Trouble

Three postal services between Pandaria and Silvermoon, nearly two weeks travel in the Eastern Kingdoms alone, all for one letter tattooed over nearly the entirety of its crinkled skin in innumerable stamps and markings; the crawling chaos of ink had grown with each stop on the long way home, but under it all a message in a familiar hand could still be made out in the upper corner, just beneath the address.

To the lovely Kharris Dawndancer,

from Ruecien,

with all fondness.

And inside?

Dearest Kharris,

There have been too many false starts for this letter, over the past month. I’ve finally decided to just begin at the beginning and end at the end.

First of all - you are dear to me, and to Sinobel, perhaps more than we will ever be able to express! Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you in some way. There’s a hidden humor in how the chime of precious metals summons your graceful sway to mind, or the slow coiling steam of fragrant tea winds its way into memories of nights and conversations spent with you. Too few of those, maybe, and too few letters from here, an error which I recognize with regret. Will you forgive me for not writing sooner? Or at all? I am ashamed. That feeling is all the stronger because of the circumstances under which I write, as I selfishly -

Apologies. I escape myself like an unraveling scarf. I’ll reveal the smallness of my character soon enough.

Regardless of my anxieties, it’s my hope that this letter finds you in good health and high spirits; maybe it will glide beneath your fingers as you saunter through the Exchange one evening, looking for another curiosity, or perhaps it may catch your eye at morning tea, one among many siblings vying for the warmth of your undivided attention. Part of me wishes that it reaches you quickly but is read slowly, patiently, saved for when the sun has traded stations with the moon and you’re safely enfolded in the darkness of your favorite, affectionate Shadow. That you’re happy in the deeply-rooted, painted-toes-to-tip-of-ears sense is what matters most and above all else.

It’s a concern about happiness that prompts this letter in the first place, as it happens. Sinobel and I are happy here, in the sun and the surf and the low drum of monsoon rains on our crooked roof. I never would have imagined how much one could love fishing before I met her, and now I take for granted being vicariously versed in all the little details of tackle and line and tides and so much more, now that she’s become an Angler proper. The community of Pagelites that live below our cabin recently inducted her as a senior member of their ranks, even. It keeps her energetic and up early - she’s kicked coffee almost entirely, did you know that? Wonders never cease - and helps me rise to the challenge of my own pursuits with the local apothecary. She runs, fishes, and lazes about in the sunlight like a hunting cat when I can entreat her to relax with me. Her hair has refined itself into a river of gold after hours under the sky here, a perfect marriage to the tan she now wears so well. It suits her, but she’s almost too beautiful to gaze on (You’ll agree when you see her). As for myself, you would scarcely recognize me now, if I had to guess; Sin says I’m finally a healthy weight, and she’s been quite the benevolent taskmistress in forcing me to cultivate a tan of my own - all over, and evenly shaded. “If you get burned, then what fun will you be? Ounce of prevention, pound of cure!”. Doesn’t that sound just like her? I was thoroughly scandalized at first, but like so much else here, there’s an ease and a wonderful comfort to simply lying in the sun and letting ones thoughts dry awhile under its rays.

Of course, it hasn’t all been sunlight. Rumors reach us of the world beyond, all dark murmurs and whispers of war. The worst of them cannot be true. I refuse to believe it or commit it to the page. My fits are no worse but also no better. Traditional Pandaren medicine, acupuncture, ‘alignment of internal energies’, all have proven as futile as any other treatment. Sinobel suffers new ailments. She has nightmares, now, that trouble me deeply; her face twists like a knife on the worst nights, while she wars against a past I cannot see to stave off a fearful future I cannot guess at. But we manage. She is always around me when I fall away, and I am ever at her side when the night is far longer than it ought to be. I am indescribably fortunate to have such a love as hers. Sinobel never once turns away from my brokenness, always putting her face to the wind and her shoulder to the wheel...

And, so, I will not turn aside from her growing sickness, no matter how painful the cure will be. I wrote to tell you this, and to seek assistance that only you can provide, Kharris: Sinobel is dying.

Don’t be immediately alarmed, but please, do not misunderstand me either. There’s no physical ailment, no lazily thumping heart or oozing vein, but she’s endangered nonetheless. Fatally so. I never did have a flair for the dramatic, least of all for its own sake. I’m saying the truth as plainly as I can, however, as honestly as I’m able. Sinobel, the woman who’s glove I return to like a trained hawk, your Crew, my Muse, is dying here. The sparking parts of her that make her who she is - “Trouble” - are falling away, and I fear that there will be lasting harm if I cannot steel myself to action. Or if you refuse to help me.

Kharris, I think Sinobel wasn’t built for this sort of pleasant idleness, in spite (‘because?’ is written and underlined, off to the side) of it being so idyllic. The same slow passage of time that deepens my roots withers her on the vine; salt water that invigorates me, strengthens me, seems to be rusting her passions; evenings spent leisurely make her anxious and bored; little routines of market visits bind her down and choke the life out of her without the contrast of another goal, another adventure, another moment of skills exercised towards a worthy end. She grew and grows listless. There has to be something more.

I discovered what that was, only a few weeks ago. I had the lock changed on the cabin, and her smile at picking us a way back in was the most complete I’ve seen in months. Later, I plied her with lockboxes - the fisherfolk beneath all contributed, and Master Ling provided me with two himself from the Interior - and basked in the glow of her focused glare, while she lost herself in the mystery of tumblers and pressure pads and locks and prybars. My answer came to me, then. I would write you and I would ask for a terrible favor, one that ends my sunny days and disrupts the heart of this peacefulness I’ve wrapped up tightly inside my chest.

I love her more than lif with all my he just as a drowning man loves

Forgive me. Words fail. I love her, and that is all. I trust you above all others to understand what it means to adore someone so completely, so inescapably, that their happiness is worth walking through fire, or burning for. To truly love another means recognizing certain expanses that may never be crossed or explained, and providing all the space for them to flourish in those places away from us even if we never truly understand their calling. This, too, you know intimately. And so I beg you, against the wishes of my jealous heart, to do what I would allow no other soul:

Take her from me.

You must steal my Trouble away, and soon. She needs to feel useful - you can find tasks to be completed. She needs a purpose outside of building a life here in Narsong Spires - you can inspire her. There is a yearning beyond all that I can affect - and I trust utterly, Kharris, that you can ensure that my weakness doesn’t shackle my Muse at my side until she wastes away, bit by bit, like sand sculptures at high tide. You love her in your own fierce way, as a member of your Atlas family. I vaguely recall that the salvaging company is defunct, but perhaps you could leverage old connections, or wrangle deals on the good reputation of the past as a reference? Anything at all. Please.

I know of no one else I could turn to. It’s an agonizing request, even if it weren’t so shameful to beg for your assistance after so many years apart from you, but it must be done before my will weakens. Selfishly, allow me to lean on your forthrightness and gentle, unyielding compassion once more, as I always did under the spires of Silvermoon. You’ve always been the very spirit of tenderness to me; honouring that spirit, I will find a way to repay you in whatever manner you desire for this undertaking. For her sake, there is no price I would not pay and no endeavour I would not attempt.

Well. There it is. I would fill more pages if I could, but she’ll return soon from the marketplace, and this must be kept a secret from her sticky fingers and cat’s eyes. Know you’re loved also, Kharris, for everything that you are to me. Writing to you seems to have unstopped something deep inside my head - or in the cage of my ribs - and I can feel as much as see the memories desperate to flow to the page. The nights spent drinking tea in your little home, Ylaise and Castien fluttering all about; Embraelle’s sudden visitations, unearthly air alloyed with authentic care; Cakes, even, Braedyn’s ever-adjusted hairpins, a stoop full of faces old and new, moderated by the Most High Xiuhteena’s gruff affection. You know, I even miss when she would tease me about my ‘cloud of women’, or hearing about Junarra’s latest energetic scheme? Acelynn, for as harsh a break as we had. There are other names, and faces, all spiraling out an-

Enough. My reverie has nearly cost me the stealth I require.

I have faith in you, and will await your response as Autumn’s seeds await Spring, and its unforeseeable changes.

Yours, Ruecien

(( @sinobel, @kharrisdawndancer, @embraelle, @saltsparkle, @xiuhteena, and @ylaisegreymist for mentions, with more tags missed because I don’t recall their blogs! ))

[fio-renze]

Saccharine (#33).

Macarons were strewn across the silk duvet, the bright summer-tone colors of the meringue cookies clashing pleasantly with the deep teal of her husband’s house. Halandir picked up another one, likely peach flavored by it’s coral hue, and offered it to her as they lay entwined on their bed. 

“I want to name him after my father, Iliphar. Or! Lysanthir, after grandfather. Though I think my-- sorry, our, people would take a shine to Iliphar the most. They remember him, after all,” he shifted his weight a little, careful not to get his muddy boots anywhere near the expensive fabrics of her dress, and rested his hand on the still small swell of her belly. 

Fiorenze had a bite of the too sweet cookie -- she’d been right, peach -- while he prattled on about names. Frankly, she hated Iliphar. Lysanthir was a bit better but it was still dusty. Old. Not a banner she wanted looming over the future. She’d make sure his middle name was Finn and call him that instead. Halandir would never go for it as a first name; Finnial, her father, was still alive. He had no need of honoring. 

She smiled sweetly, matching the saccharine taste of the frosting that lingered on her tongue well past swallowing it down and acquiesced, for now, “Both are fine, love. You have six more months or so to think on it.” 

( Thanks @ruecien! )

[everglow-botanicals]

💘,💩,👪! (Someone my muse has a crush on; someone my muse dislikes, but admires; someone in my muse’s family.)

“Erm. Well. Crush-- I don’t think I really... *do* crushes, so to speak? I ah, it either doesn’t occur to me to look at someone like that, or... It’s rather inescapable and consuming. So... no one, currently.“In that vein, I don’t believe I can answer the second question, either. There are people I respect and admire, but I wouldn’t say that I actively disliked any of them. I try to appreciate people for their strengths, rather than judge them on their faults.“Both my mother and father were slain on the attack on Silvermoon, and I was never particularly close with any extended family. My friends and co-workers in Tol Barad are the closest thing to family that I have, and that suits me just fine.”

[gloamingdawn]

"Why'd you even ask how long Melisande and I had known each other, that night at the Tarts? Did my answer surprise you? You're no easier to read after three years' absence, I can tell you." (Lothis)

“I dunno if you’ll be disappointed, but it’s not a deep answer at all. You vanished for nearly three years and then popped back up some place I never expected I’d see you with someone I was moderately familiar with. Honestly -- I just wanted to know how long you’d known her.”

( Thanks @lothishighwind // @ruecien ! )

[ruecien]

@sinobel

[selowyn]

artists.

Bold what applies to your muse.

the writer.

messy notebooks, messy desks. messy head. scribbling all over their arms. night owl. never being able to finish a project. losing too many ideas due to forgetfulness. passionate about everything. know-it-all. not knowing their own limits. trying to make flowers bloom, even during heavy storms.

the poet.

quiet. visual mind. head filled with ideas, struggling to find the right words. not being productive for three months and then writing six poems in an hour. reading the entire dictionary several times. noticing little details that no one else does. laughing quietly. wishing to be enough, someday.

the painter.

failing at consistency. having paint all over their face, clothes, and desks. spending more money on art supplies than on anything else. notebooks filled with doodles, tears, and flowers. radiating sunshine. heavy mood swings. supporting, and being supported.

the performer.

loud. not hesitating to speak up, for themselves, for others. trying to see the good in everything. rain, and the smell before rain. drinking more coffee than their body can handle. reading every book at once. laughing and crying at the same time. being honest. the helping hand everyone needs.

Tagged by: @echoesofthelight  :)

Tagging: @crusaderenrik  @melisandemeadowshine  @embraelle (whoever)  @everglow-botanicals  @altherei  @caleigh-lightbreeze  @ruecien  and whoever else wants to!

[lothishighwind]

Upkeep (OOC)

Florence has mostly passed me over without incident, and while my connection wasn't much good for anything these past few days, it could support Tumblr and Discord comfortably, so I finally tidied up Lothis' blog. Writing and Asks have now been tagged for easy navigation and sorting, and I'll soon have all of y'all's Friend Writing tagged as well.

Ruecien's blog is soon to follow, but the next little dragon to stare down is Lothis' Inbox! I've still got old Asks to tend to, most all of them short writing prompts; to prime the pump a little with shorter drabbles, I'll be putting up a few additional prompts this evening, and tackling things over the next few days until they're all cleared.

Finally: thank you @saltsparkle , for the theme and sundry advice. I appreciated it a great deal.

[theheulwen]

ツ -for Ruecien!

Yes, aww, it’d be like Peter Parker and Iron Man only if Iron Man was into knives and occasional murder instead of robotics  ;)

[gigi-etoileur]

😒 & 😜 (Someone my muse hates; someone who makes my muse laugh.)

😒 - Someone my muse hates

((Answered here!))

😜  - Someone who makes my muse laugh

“Hmm… well I always have plenty of laughs with my more quick-witted friends. Oh, and I enjoy the antics of that strange, little Goblin, Junarra. She seems to just pop up out of nowhere, armed to the teeth with puns and assorted commentary, and it’s always amusing.”(( Thanks, @ruecien! @audemus-dawnspark for implied mention, and @junarra, get on tumblr, bish.

[raevan-muns-supercut]

"I just thought it was time for us to make a home together.”

“Sometimes I wonder at my sanity. These dialogs between myself and the absent in my life. I will never have the standing or the courage to say this much to Ouro, never. With all my prickly defenses arranged about my person and my heart I will certainly never hear it from another. I have made a home, but it is only half a home with only the ghosts of those I love to reside with me. I want a child, some bastion of hope for the future. I want to turn the page of what was, to one of what can be. I have a fortune, I have a home, I have love... so much of it inside me I feel as if I am choking upon it all the time. If there is a reason for a home, for the work I have put into growing and to healing what I can of my past it is, I think to this end. To make a home for myself and someone. I think it seems clear at this point that someone is not a man who loves me and who I love in return, but a child. I would be a good mother, I have so much to give.”Thank you! @ruecien@ouroandar@trisandrah  both for mentions

[kharrisdawndancer]

In Reply

(( This post is a reply to Ruecien's post here: http://ruecien.tumblr.com/post/177631332602/sharing-trouble 

This post is cross posted from CharDiary.com at: https://chardiary.com/c/kharris-22/diary/entries/519 ))

Included in a small parcel was an elegant envelope and thick, expensive parchment. The script was less refined than he might have remembered, as if learned and mastered as an adult and only recently. A small tin of personally blended goldthorn tea and a series of packets of seeds from the Kul Tiras with a variety of drawings with descriptions and notations as she felt he might enjoy.

Dearest Ruecien,

I have received your letter and have thought it over. Trouble has been long absent for many of us, and I fear Sinobel is not the only one to start stagnating. We've all long kept our noses down and out of the fires that surround us. While good for safety and security, perhaps less so for our many adventurous spirits in the ATS Crew. No apologies are needed for not keeping in touch, as I was lax on this, too, hmm?  Never fret with me, my friend, and call on me whenever I may be of assistance.

A little catching up is in order. I do well, and my Shadow stays with me still. We are happy in each other. Atlas was never was 'defunct', and she does well now, recovered from the attack on the Barge a few years back. We returned to our trading partners and deals, hiding our treasures on the island and the Barge until we've made even the Trade Prince seethe with our savvy profitability--Castien and Ylaise are always helpful there, they each have such an eye for appraisals. We still go on missions and secure work, but perhaps with too much emphasis on staid seas, rather than satisfyingly scandalous romps. We'll have to change that. The contents of your own letter align so very well with my own designs, I think we can come to a mutual satisfaction.

I think I can understand your concerns for Sinobel. I think Asarel has much the same for me, and me for him, if I come down to it. ATS keeps me busy, but it doesn't  fulfill me, if I'm being honest, the way we are now. I was never a businesswoman and never much cared for leading. I have kept them safe in  body, but I think our soul is anemic. I am good at keeping the Crew safe and being responsible for them. But I never cared for it, and have lost part of myself in it. Your letter struck me to heart because I saw, in your reflection of Sinobel's ailment, the certainty of my own. In firming our footing, I've lost a bit of my own rhythm and it's been disconcerting and disheartening to feel my own life out of step with my spirit.

Love is dreadful and wonderful and sometimes the core of it is compromises. I'll write Sinobel as soon as I've finished my letter to you. I hope you'll join her and not sequester yourself in Pandaria? Please do come and call, I could use your quick mind in helping me. I have some *a larger ink blot is born from a pause* puzzles of my own, and your input as a fellow alchemist would be invaluable.

Wishing to see you soon,

Kharris Dawndancer-Blacksong

CEO, Atlas Treasure Salvage

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a separate package, much smaller but heavier, is included a shiny new compass with the ATS Sextant engraved. Inside is the inscription 'Look out for Trouble'. There is a new leather travel journal of the type for sketches and note taking.

Sinobel,

I'm sure you've heard, but there are new lands to see and explore. ATS could use a good map or two.

~KDB

Mentions: @ruecien @sinobel @murmuring-shadows @laceygreymist @castien-storm @atscrew

[pyraelia]

Is she at all self-conscious about her missing arm and the unique prosthetic? Even if enhanced or concealed by her illusions.

Incredibly so. Losing her arm, in her mind, only “othered” her further. She does a good job acting like it’s fine, because that’s what people want to see and think, so that’s what she lets them think. 

The illusions exist to try and counter her feelings of being self-conscious by being aesthetics she enjoys that she’s crafted herself. It’s not perfect, but it’s something. 

Thanks @ruecien! 

[fio-renze]

👀 "Do you care more for the privileges of nobility, or its attendant responsibilities?"

“The privileges, but it would be difficult, I think, to find someone who wouldn’t. I did live, for two years, as a common woman and it was difficult for me to adapt. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy the responsibility, but I am ever aware that my presence in my post can be viewed as utterly unnecessary and tends to be viewed as such by some.

But, those attendant responsibilities do give rise to the privilege that I enjoy, so I cannot say they do not go hand in hand. To keep that privilege I make sure that some of what I enjoy does go directly back to those with whom my attendant responsibilities lie. If I did not, in some way, care for those responsibilities I do not doubt for a second that I would be at serious risk to lose what I enjoy.”

( Thanks @ruecien! )  

[noonmutter]

ruecien replied to your post: Random Thing for WoW...

It sounds like a great avenue for writing prompts, and not even necessarily about the creatures–something of this reach and complexity is bound to have all sorts of fun bureaucratic headaches and edition snafus. It’s a wonderful premise!

...and then you get into the tangents my brain took with it, and it all goes cross-eyed

(but seriously thank you, I’m terribly flattered :D)

[selowyn]

37. What are some of your character’s pet peeves? What are some things that annoy them or disgust them?

Exhibit A: As a trained Confessor, Selowyn sees behavior as information; “data” if you will, as to another person’s state of mind. She tends not to take too much personally, though she might find certain behaviors fleetingly distasteful, such as being a catty jerk. Still, it will occur to her: what’s behind those words? Pain? Veiled intentions? Why is this person acting like this? What factors are at play, obviously and behind the scenes?

Exhibit B: As a person with a history tied in with two great Orders of the more regimented sort (Silver Hand & Argent Crusade), she adheres to order and dislikes flagrant breaking of the law. (Caveat: see Exhibit A. This is where it gets grey-zoned and complicated sometimes, because she can be pushed outside of her comfort zone in the interest of learning more about someone, especially someone she’s trying to help.)

Exhibit C: Necromancy, and related magics, she finds particularly repugnant (see Exhibit B).

Thanks @veiled-shadows and @ruecien for the same Ask!