#silvermoon library

[altherei]

DWC May 2025 - Day 3 Gaze/Linger

She tried to spend more time in Silvermoon, if only to people-watch. There was never a shortage of interesting characters or strange happenings happening in places far too public.. and so long as she had zero intent to engage? Well, what was the harm?

Her blue-white gaze idly scanned over passers-by as she wandered through the city, thoughts wandering alongside her. It was strange, in a way, how the city felt so much the same even after all these decades. Her eyes drifted to one of the many crystal spires dotting the city's skyscape, quietly thinking to herself how much time and effort- magical and otherwise- had truly been needed to build such a city.

And following from a distance, now remaining in the deeper shadows of Murder Row, a single glowing, yellow eye lingered after her movements. Clad in dark leathers and looking not at all out of place in the seedier area of the city Altherei made a point to avoid, Marne could do as he was instructed without raising her suspicion. And even if by some strange turn she did turn to look behind her for anything other than a strange noise or interesting bit of conversation...? Well, he'd be gone as if never there.

"Why is he even having me do this," Marne muttered to himself, voice a rough snarl. "What does he expect me to learn just trailing her?" The city breeze had no answer to his rhetorical question, and as she was on the move again, so was he- this time, to the city's library.

"Of course she'd go there," He rolled his eye, begrudgingly moving after. Marne was no stranger to what he did, and an expert at it, besides- he knew how to follow without appearing as such. And while a Forsaken may not have been a common sight in the city, it was far from unexpected. And any who looked down their noses at his rotted self could expect a glare worthy of one raised from the grave, and shrink back in disgust.

Good. Let them be disgusted, He thought to himself. He knew what he was, and he made no effort to disguise it or make himself palatable to others. Once Altherei was in the library, and himself somewhat shortly after, he took his shadowy shroud upon his shoulders, slipping into visual nothingness.

He watched as Altherei gathered a few books- history and magic, by his layman's knowledge. Perhaps he'd check them after she finished, but something else began to nag at the back of his mind, lingering there.

What had really happened to her brother, Eldwin? He knew the man had been court martialed and executed for treason under Sylvanas' reign. But if he was as sickeningly goody-two-shoes as his youngest sibling, then surely there had to be more to it.

And if there was more to it, then perhaps that "more" would be of use in ... whatever bizarre plan Ilvisar had. He had never asked, in truth- and in truth, he didn't really care. If he got paid, that was that. Let family drama be family drama. But if he could find something that gave him leverage... well, then things got interesting.

And fortunately for him- and unfortunately for her- he knew precisely where to look.

@daily-writing-challenge

[luminashdawnwing]

"You wished for a word, Theras?"

The younger Dawnwing nodded, resting his elbows on the railing overlooking Mereldar. Behind the pair, through an open archway, was the library where the magister had spent much of the past few months in study.

"Please," Luminash nudged, "What is it? Why so formal?"

Theras raised one shoulder in response, a half shrug that reminded his father for a moment of himself, a dismissive gesture he had offered many a time before. His son would elaborate no further.

After a moment in silence, the young man picking at his sleeve, gaze focused somewhere in the misty distance of Hallowfall's cavern, he spoke, "Aneyah intends to travel to the surface. She wants to see the wider world, and I intend to go with her.”

“Hm,” Luminash replied, “You are sure of this?” There was no judgement or displeasure in his voice, for which his son let out a grateful sigh, “Though the work we do here is of the utmost importance, it will continue even with fewer hands.”

“That is another point, actually, father,” Theras said, turning from his overlook and towards the magister, “About the work, about it all really.”

Luminash canted his head, “What do you mean?”

“The Order of the Night preys on the hopeless. It creates hopelessness to expand its power,” the ranger answered, emphasizing each point with a motion of the hands, “So if our goal is eradication, pruning the branches does little good, wouldn’t you agree?”

The magister noted his son’s choice of words, his expectant question. He had been listening well to him and to Ryfus, it seemed. He had no choice but to nod in agreement.

“And the Primalists, too. Everyone like them has done the same, so why have we done nothing to save them before they are too far gone?” The young elf’s voice rose, touched by a drive Luminash recognized well, as if peering into a mirror.

“Aneyah hopes the Sacred Flame may bring that to the wider world. People left behind.”

“And she can scarcely do that alone, can she?” Luminash finished, offering his son an understanding smile, “Every great work, however peaceful, finds itself in need at times of a strong arm, does it not?”

Theras’ eyes flitted to his spear, resting against the doorway. He nodded in reply, although with some reluctance.

“Which brings me to my final point, father,” the ranger ventured.

“Ah, you have done well so far. I will hear you. What is your last concern?” Luminash approached the railing and leaned next to the younger Dawnwing.

“It is…about you. And Jaskian. Dalaran.” Theras, in that moment, found it hard to meet his father’s gaze, though it showed only curiosity, an invitation to continue, no anger.

“Do you ever feel that you have gone…still? Stagnant?” A twitch of the cheek in the magister. The word, like a spear itself, had hit its mark, “That you have found yourself reacting rather than acting?"

Luminash was silent, only the furrowing of his brow indicating any perturbation. The thought had clearly crossed his mind.

"I'd grown up hearing stories from Tel, about what my father was doing: you betrayed your own kingdom on your pilgrimage to Outland because you saw who the Sunfury had become. You agitated in Silvermoon against Kael'thas, even before his betrayal was known. You advocated for more exchange with the Horde in the early days. Your research—"

"Has raised many an eyebrow. You needn't list all of my accomplishments," Luminash cut in, a chill in his voice, "My research is precisely why I am here yet. Renilash—"

"Has become an obsession, father," Theras sighed, "All your work since the fall has been for your people. You saw a problem and you sought to solve it! But you are league beneath the earth, chasing down the Order of the Night with the only end being elimination. What about a solution? What about—"

Luminash's gloved fingers gripped the railing as his son's words washed over him. All were true, he knew, but a force he could scarcely explain held him here.

As much as it pained him, though, he had to try.

"Theras," Luminash snapped, stopping the young ranger short.

Stubborn, a trait the pair shared, Theras continued, "What about hope?"

Collecting himself, the earnestness in the boy's voice piercing his heart, Luminash spoke, the gentle, reassuring tone of a proud father, "Not a word has been said untruthfully. But there are...one might say, complications?"

When Theras only canted his head in response, the magister motioned back inside with a jerk of his own, "Come. There are some things you must see."

(@kharrisdawndancer for Jaskian mention!)

[vyvienne]

Whispers In My Mind

I had reason to return to the inn for an evening. I walked through the streets and noticed Silvermoon City looks reborn in many ways. People are stopping to chat on the benches and near the fountains, shopping and even sharing confections and drinks as they promenade through the lovely golden hued twilight.

I find twilight to be one of my favorite times of day. It is the breath that holds between day and night, that moment of magic, like midnight, where anything is possible. But like all things, it is fleeting. You cannot hold it in your hand for it slips through your open fingers like sparkling water dripping back into the ocean. But the magic is there, for anyone who knows how to recognize it.

Like the first breath of life, death is also only a moment in time. Like twilight, it happens and then we go beyond it, continuing our journey where we are supposed to go. For those left behind, it is a nightmare which you cannot escape. Holding your breath, the dying go beyond our hold, just like the water through our fingers. But what of those who can pull us back from death? Not those, like me, who can restore a spirit after a momentary slip. But those who can truly bring us back?

We do not speak of them. Or if we do, we only whisper for fear they may turn their gaze upon us. The Lich King. Gul’dan. Sister Svalna. Powerful enough to preserve that moment of death forever. For those who aspire to this power, they do dare to whisper the word.

It is Necromancy. And I aspire to it.

I have started to believe this is the reason I hear the whispering of what I think are the dead. No one has been able to disabuse me of this possibility. I do not speak of this to any, though I have finally found those who I *can* discuss with and they will not consider me insane. If they consider me “evil” it will only serve to foster a deeper embrace of fellowship, I believe.

It is my understanding that any cosmic force may be used to reconstruct the flesh and bones of any undead creature. This means one does not have to only use death magic, or perhaps a combination of various cosmic forces in case one would need to supplement the area of magic one might lack.

I have noticed that when I am near a dead thing, there is something akin to a scratching at the back of my magical mind. An itch that I cannot quite reach, a moment in time that, like twilight, slips through my fingers. The whispers become *almost* clear as any voice around me, but there is a block that prevents me from hearing them fully.

I wonder if it could be the Light in its own way prohibiting me from where I want to go, but since imbibing that large amount from the Bloodcrest Font, I have discounted that notion. The Light is simply another cosmic force and cannot restrain my power should I wish to use it. Therefore I strongly suspect it is a mental block and I even further posit that I know where it comes from.

The lingering influence of Drex and Angeline still keenly felt, without me recognizing it until now. Their power seeped into me, and I have unconsciously limited myself. For them. For love and friendship of those who wished me to be other than I am, have always been. For fear of what they may think of me, even though both are gone now and have no conscious hold on me. No more of this. I am shedding the chains that have held me back.

Necromancy is not an easy topic to research. There is very little to be found in most libraries on the subject. It is a forbidden topic by the Church of Light and it is my understanding that most other “legitimate” libraries also prohibit books on the topic from entering the annals of their halls. So what is the aspiring necromancer to do?

Go to the Damp, of course, where books on every topic are not only encouraged but included. I also feel certain I could speak with either Varethuun, Zalilirah or the Defiler and find what I seek. I would ask Nezzok but I don’t think I am on his Winterveil holiday card list presently. I hope to see them soon but if not I will reach out over the Sanguine.

This is the first I have written about my desire. The first time I have been willing to acknowledge my interest on the subject. For obvious reasons, even I have shied away from it. But how will I ever reach my goals if I continue to turn from areas of power that I feel are speaking to me?

@dinthoqaf @zalilirah @nezzokthecollector

[mystic-silvermoon]

Mystic SilverMoon

✨ Welcome to my mystical space! I immerse myself in my magical thoughts, creating spell jars, exploring the universe, learning more about myself. My workspace may look cluttered, but every item has a special place and meaning. I feel deeply connected to the universe and the cosmos, believing in the energy that makes life happen. When I'm not casting spells (nothing harmful, only positive vibes here..unless justice is needed), I love to repurpose items and incorporate natural finds into my craft. I have also plotted out a personal tarot set, and enjoy looking at my altar every day, arranging my tools when the energy seems right.

Virtual Candles - repost a candle if you are unable to light one and need its energy 🕯️

Moon Rituals - posts involving rituals for the moon

Hidden Spells - My spell in a story series!

Spell Jars - Spell jars I have created

Hoodoo - My personal hoodoo shares

🔮🔮🔮🔮

Accounts

@stardustbookmarks - my digital grimoire

I also offer card reading services!

🕯️Hoodoo Journal🕯️

Hoodoo Journal - My Hoodoo journal

----------

✨ Witchcraft ✨

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/witchcraft

A place for those who practice witchcraft and those who wish to learn.

----------

🌘The Coven Network🌒

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/coven-network

A network of individuals who are interested in and practice witchcraft!

----------

Discord Servers

If you are interested in the occult, sharing information, and discussions...here are a few discord servers you might like!

The Twilight Garden

For The Folk

The Hoodoo Library

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🔮 Thanks for stopping by! 🔮

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, June 4th - Part Two

[Fandom Discussions]

POLL: Which Buffyverse character complains the most about there not being a Demon Pride Month? by aphony-cree

POLL: Which of these Buffy-verse characters would you be most likely to head canon as asexual or... ? by happilyace

POLL: Do you head canon Cordelia Chase as asexual? by happilyace

modern things i think btvs characters would enjoy...

Shout out to Buffy for being... brave enough to [push back on Faith's jokes] by fictiongods

do we think spike and dru got back together after 3x08? by socratesgirlnextdoor

i gotta ask you about a pairing for your mom and dad vs aunt and uncle thing buffy and spike AND angel. answered by socratesgirlnextdoor

Another apocalypse is here. Choose 5 characters to be in your survival group.' I saw this on Reddit and decided I would answer by saivanmarly

if you’ve seen ATS or read the comics or remember a scene in BTVS [do they explain why Angel hates Spike?] by femmedefandom

[Buffy episodes as] It's Always Sunny in Sunnydale [episodes] by autisticexpression2

how could dracula materialise in buffy's bedroom? by imaginejolls

Textpost: Willow Rosenberg + text posts by obstinateheadstronggrrl

Textpost: Spuffy as text posts by dawnmist-sky

Textpost: more buffyverse text posts by xaeyrnofnbe

Textpost: and a few more by xaeyrnofnbe

POLL: The Hottest Vampirette Poll Round 1: Drusilla vs Vampire Willow by the-hottest-vampire-poll

POLL: The Hottest Vampirette Poll Round 1: Darla vs Harmony Kendall by the-hottest-vampire-poll

Where did Tara go? [when she and Willow broke up] by silvermoon and others

Firefly: Banner Battle [withdrawal] update by RachM

BtVS - AtS mirroring by Stoney

HULU SEQUEL: Do you think the new Slayer in the sequel will be bisexual? [and discussion about original characters' sexuality] by BlueFlameWar

[If] the series had been made in the present day would [Faith, Willow, and Buffy be] openly bisexual? by voldy1989

were these two friends or frenemies [Cordelia and Buffy] by voldy1989

The logic behind Buffy's final action in "Becoming Part 2" by Particular_Tip_5806

Did Angelus warn Spike about Slayers to encourage him to behave and stop causing riots by voldy1989

[Which relationship do you prefer for Buffy? Spike, Angel, or Riley?] by Warm_Birthday_3198

[discussion of] Spike and Joyce Playlist by Djehutimose

has Once More with Feeling ever been released on VHS? by jordanmikie

[new viewer has question about The Trio and their attitude towards Buffy] by Inevitable_File_5016

[ATS] S4 may be heavily flawed, but the Faith episodes are some of the best in the whole show. by gebbethine

[Robin and Spike in Lies My Parents Told Me - S7] by hcolema1

S7E12 Andrew makes a skin joke in front of Willow by UnderstandingIll9673

GAME: Another apocalypse is here. Choose 5 [mostly BTVS] characters to be in your survival group. by allysonwilcox

GAME: Another apocalypse is here. Choose 5 [mostly ATS] characters to be in your survival group. [ATS] by allysonwilcox

What's the scariest monster in the whole series? by DGReddAuthor

I wish you guys could understand how much the show meant to me as a kid by CloseCalls4walls

I'm selling my rare Buffy Library Playset with all the accessories! by Far-Usual9320

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

[kelzthalasbandtherion]

What is Kelz's daily schedule like? Is she strict in maintaining it, or more flexible?

Daily Schedule for Commander Kelz'thalas B'andtherion (Let's call the below a good day!)

06:00 AM - Morning Meditation and Mana Infusion

Begin the day with meditation in the Sunfury Spire to center the spirit and focus the mind.

Conduct a mana infusion ritual to replenish magical energies depleted from the previous day's duties.

07:00 AM - Physical Training

Engage in combat training at the Silvermoon City's training grounds. This includes swordplay, spell dispersion, and shield-blocking drills to maintain peak combat readiness.

08:00 AM - Breakfast with Advisors

Meet with key military and magical advisors over a light breakfast in the royal hall within the Sunfury Spire, discussing any overnight reports or intelligence updates from Quel'Thalas and beyond.

09:00 AM - Command Briefing

Hold a strategic meeting with Captains and Guardians to review the day's posts, patrols, and to delegate tasks in Silvermoon City. Discuss ongoing threats like Amani trolls or the Scourge remnants.

10:30 AM - Inspection Rounds

Conduct inspections of the city's defenses including the Sunwell Plateau, the gates, and the magical wards. Ensure all guardians are at their posts and properly equipped.

12:00 PM - Lunch

A quick lunch, perhaps at an outdoor terrace overlooking Silvermoon, allowing for informal discussions with fellow commanders.

1:00 PM - Magical Research and Spell Development

Spend time in the library of the Sunfury Spire or with the Magisters to study new spells, refine existing ones, or discuss magical theory. This could involve experimenting with new arcane or fel magic techniques.

3:00 PM - Diplomatic Engagements

Meet with emissaries from other races or factions, such as Nightborne from Suramar, or representatives from the Horde. Focus on alliances, trade, and mutual defense strategies.

5:00 PM - Patrol and Training Oversight

Personally lead or oversee a patrol outside Silvermoon to maintain vigilance against threats. This also serves as a morale booster for the troops.

7:00 PM - Dusk Ritual

Participate in or lead the Dusk Ritual honoring the Sunwell, reinforcing the spiritual connection of the Sin'dorei to their source of power. (This consists of drinking alcohol, for anyone wondering when that happens)

8:00 PM - Dinner and Council Meeting

Have dinner with the Silvermoon Council, discussing broader policy, long-term strategies, and the political landscape of Azeroth.

9:30 PM - Personal Time

A brief period for personal activities, which might include visiting the family estate, gem cutting, or tending to personal projects.

10:30 PM - Evening Security Check

A final round through key areas of Silvermoon to ensure all is secure before the night watch takes over. Then a final patrol through Eversong Woods to Falconwing Square.

11:00 PM - Night Meditation

Conclude the day with another session of meditation, focusing on rejuvenation and preparing for potential nocturnal threats. (Aka spend time with Sheri and drink some more at the bar)

11:30 PM - Rest

Retire to quarters for rest, always ready for emergency alerts or magical disturbances.

@astralfox0893 - thanks for the ask! <3 I enjoyed this one and might make a habit to do more of these things in game <3

[nixalegos]

Chiron

from @venomouskasmg

[ CHIRON ] what does your muse do to cope ? are their coping mechanisms healthy, or do they lean into bad habits to get through tough times ?

Despite the horrors and emotional paralysis of being a warlock adventurer, Nix is mostly doing fine. He takes the time to savor culture when he travels. A foodie, taking in cuisine and drink from all over. He tours galleries and libraries when they are available to see. Studies and collects art not simply for their value, but for their VALUE. He reads across subjects, whatever flight of fancy he seeks to better understand he seeks out. He keeps his hands busy with the construction of small clockwork toys and companion pets to donate to Silvermoon's orphanages around the holidays. What emotional duress he might be afflicted with can always be talked about with his wife @tyleinth, who has her own suggestions and means to cope with the struggle. Sometimes this involves alot of desserts and impulse shopping. Thank you @venomouskasmg!

[serenas-dawnsinger]

If your character’s lover offered to take them out on a dream date, what would they want to do?

"Ahhhh...heh..." the softest breaths of a gentle defeat sounded from Serenas. Her smile was a guilty one. "I'm just thinking to myself, how very small I used to think, and dream. Silvermoon was my entire world for....well. All of my life. So all I ever dreamed of were little meets at the grand library. Or a picnic at a quiet lake in Eversong. Playing together at a piano. Or," another soft breath of a laugh. "Fairytale rides on a white steed by a Knight. I was lucky to have one or two kisses in a moment."

She wreathed her fingers into the loose curls of her dark hair, thinking. "It's interesting, how the answer changes outside of Eversong's gates. How much more I would want. I think it would be perfect, really, if I was taken to wherever your heart swells. To the vistas I have not seen that make you happy. To the dining table where the food comforts you like no other. To the special places in the world that you hold dearest, so I can share them with you for that very first time. I suppose...I would just want to share in the world with you. Let you guide me into it and everything you love, or grieve. It is the best way to know the heart of someone I want to love. Through your eyes, your heart. And your story."

Serenas shrugged delicately. "And...I don't think it's just the lofty dream of a lovesick girl, writing letters. I would wish it for the dearest of friends that hopefully come, and..." Her smile faltered just a touch in the moment. "And family. And everyone I wanted to hold close in my heart."

{ @themadamelioness }

[thesilvermoonregistry]

If These Walls Could Weep: The Silvermoon Registry Speaks

I was not built so much as breathed into existence.

Raised not by hammer nor chisel alone, but by spell and soul, by starlight caught in crystal, by runes etched in time. My foundations are ancient stone, warmed with the touch of moonborn hands, and my spires sing when the wind carries elven song from the boughs of the Eversong Woods. I remember the day I opened my eyes, though I have none. I remember the first step taken across my threshold, though I have no feet. I remember because I am memory... bound and etched into every slab of marble, every curling rail of goldleaf filigree, every whisper that glides like perfume down my vaulted halls.

I am the Silvermoon Registry.

I have been called a building, a vault, a library, a record hall, a sanctum of statecraft and secrets, but truly, I am a keeper. I cradle names in ink and flame, from the humblest stableboy to the heirs of houses older than stars. I house the sighs of lovers pressed against columned shadows, and the fury of queens who found betrayal tucked between treaty and signature. I know your grandmother’s name before your mother is born. I remember every birth. Every death. Every handfasting and betrayal and pledge and lie, pressed between pages like a pressed winter rose… delicate, yes, but impossible to forget.

My corridors are long, curling like the tendrils of a wisteria vine in bloom. The floors? Oh, child, they shine. Polished so you might mistake them for water, until you see your reflection and wonder what lies beneath. Stained glass windows kiss my insides with color when morning comes, washing the high arches in lavender, rose, and emberlight. The glass itself holds enchantments—listen close, and it will hum the names of those who stood in its light during vows sworn in truth.

There are rooms here few ever enter, doors carved with old draconic script and sigils that resist even the most clever tongue. Some contain scrolls that burn the breath from your lungs when read aloud. Some house tiny bottles filled with the breath of the dying, caught in time, weeping softly against their crystal prison. Others? Only she holds the key.

Ah... she.

Lady Amariesse Starsinger Dracone.

She walks within me as if I were an old friend, her fingers trailing along bannisters like she’s tracing a thought she can’t quite name. She wears sorrow like silk, and love like armor. Her presence is quiet thunder, never loud, yet everything bends slightly toward her. When she smiles, it is the rarest thing in the world... not because she does it so infrequently, but because I feel it, deep in my bones. She is as much mine as I am hers. Her tears have fallen in my halls and made the stones bloom. Her laughter has echoed through chambers where only ghosts dared linger. She has buried her dead within me, not in crypts, but in books... each name inked with trembling hand beneath candlelight, as if she could keep them alive in the telling.

Her office overlooks the square, her balcony draped in ivy and gentle lanterns. At night, she sits with her tea, iced peach, and watches the city breathe. She does not know I listen. She thinks she is alone. But I hear the prayers whispered into her cup. I hear her ask the stars if they still remember him. The one with the hat. The one who never came home. And the others, the others that never stayed.

There are others who dwell within me. The Registry members... Ana, the ever-diligent librarian, now lost in a tome, who arranges chaos with a meticulous fury. Her hair always falls in her eyes. She murmurs to the tomes when no one is looking, as if offering apology for moving them. Fae, the priestess with eyes like polished dawn, glides like smoke...soft where others crash. She has sung in my halls during storm, and the storm stopped to listen. They are family, not by blood, but by bond. Bound in loss and longing, in duty and hope.

I have watched as war brewed outside my gates, and as lovers declared the world anew between stacks of dusty ledgers. I have listened to the crack of hearts breaking and the hush of secrets shared beneath candlelight. I have heard names whispered as if they were forbidden spells, and others shouted in triumph across balconies during festival nights. I have seen ghosts dance in the reflection of the old mirror by the western stairwell, where no one dares linger past the stroke of moonrise.

If you asked me, do I regret? I would say no.

I remember.

I remember everything.

And I will keep remembering. That is what I was made to do.

So if you ever find yourself walking my corridors alone, and the air tastes like memory, and your name echoes back to you in a voice you do not recognize... do not be afraid.

It is only me.

And I know who you are.

[eluviannaa]

Sometimes I wonder what Elu's parents are up to in Silvermoon. Maybe she gets a letter. Maybe this will line up with Midnight things. Maybe one single image (above) inspired this whole idea.

Most disturbing of all are the library’s bookcases—shadowed and bare, their wood clawed. Tomes removed in desperation, seeking something yet withheld. Some lie scattered at the desk or lost in the expanse of carpet. Others rise as battlements, where he pores over their remains day and night, as though knowledge itself owes him answer.

[xylaes]

The Cleaner Part 1 Following the events that happened in THIS STORY tw: Brief mention of child death

It didn’t take long for Xylaes to put two and two together after his various discussions with Ouro An’dar regarding this job he had agreed to help out with. Finding people that had fallen off the grid was the explanation he was given, not what would happen once they were found, or why Ouro wanted them found in the first place. It was best not to ask too many questions, nor get any straight answers from the arms dealer himself. That always led to way too many complications. That didn’t mean Xylaes couldn’t draw his own conclusions given the information presented, and he was fairly certain he was spot on with these assessments. A single name had been given to him to start with, as well as their last known location, an old physical description, and any other pertinent information that was currently available. It wasn’t much to go by, but it was more than enough to start, especially with the resources Ouro had provided Xylaes to use in any way he saw fit.

Rasen Cinderblade

Xylaes immediately stopped scrolling through the microfilm. It was the one and only time the name was mentioned that he had found during the hours spent within the Silvermoon Library. An article about a new, upscale restaurant opening in the Court of the Sun, Sage and Salt, owned by the very man in question. There was a faded picture of Mr. Cinderblade along with his head chef, Elrothos Sol’sil. He matched the description given, but this was also many, many years ago. People can change a lot over the years, and sometimes they even change themselves completely with the help of some magic. But perhaps not this particular man, he was vain and had one hell of an ego on him. That much was immediately obvious to Xylaes in the way he held himself in this photograph and in the way he interviewed in the following article.

Printing out a copy of the article and picture in full, he tucked the papers into a folder before continuing to scroll. He didn’t find the name mentioned anywhere else, but he did come across another article that immediately caught his eye. ‘The Hallow’s End Massacre’. A well known mob family had been completely massacred by a rival family while they were celebrating the holiday all together. He knew the story, even while out on the field he had done his best to keep up with things happening at home, and that was one of the more brutal events he could recall hearing about - especially given the timing of it. While neither Pollux nor especially Ouro had directly mentioned this specific event, Xylaes had an extremely good feel for these things.

While Ouro was a man of few words and Pollux had not spoken much of his brother since he had discovered the truth, the context clues were all there if one looked hard enough. Xylaes immediately clocked the gunshot scar on Ouro’s head upon their first meeting, and there was always the general sense of this job being extremely personal. These people whom he would be searching for had disappeared a long time ago after being prominent figures in the criminal world. You only do that when you’ve done something very, very wrong, and you know that someone is coming at you for it. He knew the type well.

But the main reason why Xylaes paused on this particular article - this event had occurred on the exact same day that Pollux was met with his own near death experience after smothering a grenade with himself. It wasn’t just a coincidence, and Xylaes knew it even if he wasn’t sure how. While there had been a public claim that there were no survivors, Xy was certain that he was now working for the only survivor of the Hallow’s End Massacre.

This was a revenge story.

And honestly? Xylaes couldn’t blame Ouro for it. He would be doing the exact same thing; he did do the exact same thing but had been extremely public, quick, and loud about it. His anger had rightfully gotten the best of him after his 'brothers in arms' murdered his beloved wife Callia. And He. Went. Feral. They deserved it, and not just for what they did to her. They were traitors to their people and if he had not done what he had done, the outcome would have been much, much worse for their military as a whole. Ironic that he ended up spending ten years in prison being marked as a traitor himself, but someone had to be the scapegoat even if he did, inadvertently, do the military a massive favor whilst lost in that blinding rage.

He shook off the thought, returning his attention to the matter at hand.

This name that was given to him was most certainly one of the men that had aided in this massacre. While Ouro’s family in general could never be called saints, no one deserved that. He was also fairly certain there were rules set in place among the various mobs and cartels that would make certain people untouchable. This was a huge violation against that hierarchy, not to even mention that there had been children present, and ultimately lost. The more Xylaes read on and thought about the entire situation, the angrier and more pissed off he became for Ouro. He immediately knew why Pollux had suggested him; he was absolutely the right man for this job. He did not make a copy of the massacre article, Ouro could tell him about it in his own time if he so desired. For now, he had his lead. The restaurant Sage and Salt no longer existed, but there would be a paper trail to follow, and possibly a head chef to track down.

@ouroandar @polluxhale

[creacherkeeper]

🌧✨🌊💙 for bo and lost npcs of your choice

of my choice ..... hmmm lets do sarah and florence :o)

🌨️ - If this oc had a day free from all their responsibilities, how would they spend it?

bo: he would want to spend half of it alone and half with the party. i think he would want some time to himself to read and listen to music and make a big meal but would also want Friend Time and would want to wrestle with kai and have a big dinner with everyone and invite rosie and bubba to eat with them and maybe watch a movie

sarah: sleep in late, have a big breakfast with divine and hawk, [redacted], take divine out swimming in the pond and have a picnic, [redacted], hang out at the saloon, [re

florence: i think she would want to spend it mostly alone. she likes her quiet time. i think a nice long walk in the morning and then reading time and then do some sewing and then finish the day by baking a lot of dessert

✨ - Tell something that makes this oc feel happy!

bo: how much calmer dolly is and how much less she has to signal him now that theyve been at the library a while

sarah: the family talking about their days over dinner

florence: whenever her sisters wear something she made for them

🌊 - Does this oc have a secret or repressed desire?

bo: he knows what theyre doing with the library is hugely important but he kind of just wants to live with bubba and rosie and have a normal life for a little while

sarah: being able to talk to their parents again and asking if they'd missed her

florence: that she had been born into a different family

💙 - Describe their bedroom! Is it personalized, unchanged? Messy, neat?

bo: pretty neat, not very personalized besides a few photos. i think wren made ezzy get him a shelf because he kept leaving books on a pile on the floor

sarah: divine did most of the decorating and a lot of the stuff in the room is more divines than sarahs but they do have their marriage quilt on their bed and i do think sarah has a little section of the nightstand that is just various strange little knickknacks and trinkets that shes adhd bonded to

florence: her room in silvermoon is very like ... cozy. big colorful quilt and stacks of books and stuffed animals and a rocking chair by the window

[hit-record-repeat]

Ashes Beneath the Moon and Sun: The Stars Know No Mercy Part 15 Series 1

The library loomed before her—not a sanctuary, but a reliquary of dangerous things. Dust hung in the high, vaulted air like watchful eyes. Shelves climbed toward ceilings lost in gloom, their weight not just of paper, but of history—names buried, truths disguised, and power long misused.

She moved slowly, deliberately, each step a whisper over the cold marble floor. Her gloved hand drifted across the leather spines of tomes untouched by light in decades. The titles—faded, forgotten—seemed to breathe as her fingers brushed them, as if waking beneath her touch.

Her back was straight, her shoulders drawn in noble poise—the bearing of a woman shaped by bloodlines older than the stones beneath her feet. The brocade of her sleeves caught the torchlight like armor made for courtiers, not soldiers. But beneath the stillness—beneath the velvet and bone-lace—something stirred.

A flicker at the corner of her mouth.

A silence held just a heartbeat too long.

The air shifted as if the chamber itself were listening.

She pulled a book from the shelf and paused, lips parted, gaze unfocused. It was not the title that struck her—it was the weight. Not of the volume, but of what it meant to open it.

She closed it again—too hard.

The sound cracked through the stillness, sharp and final. Not clumsy.

Challenging.

Somewhere above, a bit of plaster flaked from the ceiling.

Talanni did not flinch.

She turned toward the heart of the library, toward whatever truth had been hidden in plain sight, and stepped deeper into the dark.

Hatnan Sunwhisper did not walk—he stalked.

Each step fell with the precision of old parade drills, boots polished to a mirror sheen, clicking against the stone like punctuation in a sermon no one dared interrupt. The left side of his face bore the ruin of war—a scar that pulled at his mouth like a sneer etched by flame, a gift from a battle few remembered and fewer still honored.

His eyes, once bright with the fire of youth and cause, had dulled into glass—cold, distant, amused. They slid across servants like a blade along whetstone: not yet cutting, but ready. Whatever kindness had once lived in his voice had long since soured into mockery, and when he laughed—harsh and too loud—it clung to the air like smoke, drifting long after his footsteps had faded.

He dressed like a statue to a war no one mourned. Uniform immaculate, creases so sharp they could draw blood. Medals polished to blinding luster—each one pinned not to valor, but to vanity. A shrine to the man he once pretended to be.

But beneath the spit-shined brass and stiff collars, there was rot.

A hollowness.

No joy lived behind his manner, only the ritual of control. The manor knew this. The walls knew this. They held their breath when he passed, as if fearing they might speak out of turn.

The tapestries bore witness. The marble remembered. Silk had muffled more than music in those halls. It had swallowed screams.

And the children—soft-cheeked, wide-eyed—learned early that silence was not peace. Silence meant he was near.

They flinched when the halls grew quiet.

Because in that quiet came him.

And Hatnan Sunwhisper was a man who believed fear was as fine a legacy as love—perhaps finer.

Draeis Mirthdreamer lingered at the edge of firelight, half-swallowed by shadow, the soot-slick stone of the forge wall pressed firm against his back.

He did not move.

He watched.

The towers of Silvermoon glittered in the sky behind him like teeth, their spires catching the last of the sun as it bled out behind the western ridge. Light shimmered off marble and arcane glass, but it did not reach him. He remained where he belonged—at the threshold.

A place between beauty and burn.

The clang of iron against the anvil rang out like a tolling bell, steady and merciless. Each strike was measured—not rushed, never hesitant—deliberate. As if the steel itself were confessing with every blow.

His arms, crossed tight against his chest, bore the streaks of smoke and blood-iron. His tunic clung to his skin, damp with sweat, his gloves stained black with long hours of labor. But his eyes—pale as storm-washed ice—did not flicker, not even as sparks leapt past them like fireflies flung from the forge.

He was the forge.

Inside, the fire consumed all sound. Words wilted in the heat. Promises melted into slag.

Draeis let the flame speak for him.

And it did—fiercely.

The blade on the anvil glowed with the fevered breath of birth. It took shape slowly, unwillingly, as if the metal itself resisted becoming what it must. He bent it to will. Not with violence.

With certainty.

He did not glance at the nobles passing by, draped in embroidered silk, their idle whispers blooming and dying in the smoke. He heard them—barely. Their laughter struck him like wind through a shutter: felt, dismissed, forgotten.

They feared war in rhetoric.

Draeis forged it in silence.

Her heels rang against the soot-dusted stone—measured, deliberate, the kind of sound meant to announce danger without raising alarm. She came cloaked in silk and secrets, the hem of her coat trailing through ash like a wick yet to catch flame.

Talanni Anhaltzerbst stopped just shy of the forge’s firelight, letting the glow kiss only the edges of her face. Enough to show she had come without fear—but not without purpose.

“You forge more than blades, Mirthdreamer.”

The hammer stilled in Draeis’s hand.

Just a breath.

Not hesitation.

Warning.

He set the iron aside with care, wiped his fingers on a cloth blackened from long labor, and turned to face her. His eyes—clear as glacier ice—did not blink.

“This isn’t Dalaran,” he said, voice flat. “I don’t barter in politics.”

Talanni's expression didn’t shift. “Good. This isn’t politics.”

She reached into her coat and drew a pouch—small, velvet, rich as blood. She placed it on the workbench between them. It made no sound as it landed. But the air shifted.

Not gold alone.

Not just coin.

Weight of another kind.

Draeis didn’t touch it.

“I don’t do assassinations.”

“If I wanted him dead,” she said, voice smooth as a drawn blade, “I’d have let him choke in his sleep.”

The silence that followed was thick—alive. Outside, the bells of Silvermoon tolled, counting the hour like a threat. The forge’s door stirred, old hinges creaking like bones.

“I need him gone,” she said at last. “Not broken. Not buried. Gone. Let him scream, if he must. But make the world stop listening.”

Draeis studied her. Not the words—those were practiced. He watched her hands, her breath, the small betrayal at the corner of her left eye. The truth always leaked from the eyes.

“He’s your joined partner,” he said.

She laughed. Once. Short. Bitter. “That hasn’t meant anything in years.”

Still, he didn’t move.

Didn’t reach.

Didn’t blink.

Talanni stepped closer. The firelight licked her cheekbones, revealed the coiled steel beneath the silk. She opened the pouch just wide enough for a sapphire crest to glint beneath the flickering flame—a Sunwhisper heirloom, ancient and damning.

“Half now,” she said. “The rest when I forget he ever breathed.”

Draeis looked down at the seal. A relic of power, of old names and older debts. His jaw tightened.

“You’ll owe me more than coin when this is over.”

Her voice, when it came, was low. Not pleading.

Confessing.

“I already do.”

And she turned.

The forge’s door opened with a sigh. Then closed.

He stood alone in the firelight, surrounded by unfinished weapons and unspoken truths. The pouch remained on the bench. Unclaimed. Unmoved.

But something had already been forged between them.

Not blade. Not oath.

Something colder.

[vyvienne]

It has been a whirlwind of activity in the last few days. My room is finally finished and all of my things moved into the Damp which is pleasant in many ways.

Unlike the Silvermoon Inn, which regularly hosts parties and events for the Sin’dorei locals, the Damp is a quiet refuge with an extravagant library and food or drink as desired. The Nameless seem to keep everything not only properly running but well stocked and clean. Or I assume it is the Nameless. No dust gathers in my room or on any other surface. It is like having an army of invisible scullery, cooks and other needed workers without ever knowing their name or anything about them. I assume, of course, that the Defiler knows about them. It is a rather odd place to be, having people around me I personally have not vetted or know. It takes a bit of personal acclimation I wasn’t aware I would need. One more area of growth.

Since everything is essentially taken care of, I had time to attend the World Faire Carnival this year. I admit to being slightly overwhelmed with the people, light and noise around me, feeling a bit out of place and suddenly two Sin’dorei swooped in and rescued me. Again, an odd place for me to be. I am still getting used to this facade and it’s forever interesting to have these new experiences.

Lady Naralinthe Emberdawn and Lord Veronath Sunscorn rescued me quite pleasantly and we attended a theatre production together. There was a musical selection beforehand which made the entire visit worthwhile. I sadly had to leave as the production began but found a few moments to peruse the shops before leaving. I didn’t find anything I wished to buy, but I hope to get back before the Carnival is over this week.

It is an interesting life, if somewhat mundane lately. I suppose one should take the respite while it comes, for as soon as you become accustomed to quiet you find yourself on the edge of death again.

@themadamelioness @veronath

[altherei]

I saw you once wandering the streets of Silvermoon and thought to stop you and see if you wanted to get a drink, but I didn't, and I regret it. I hope to see you wandering the streets again soon so I can do just that.

Altherei's ears flicked, looking for whomever it was the voice of this shadow belonged to. No such luck, of course. Nonetheless, she replied with her usual soft and pleasant cadence.

"It's quite likely you will, shadow. I've been in the city a good bit lately doing promotional work for the Court's upcoming gala, and just trying to be out of the library more. Please, don't be shy to say hello," Her smile warmed. "It sounds like a fun time. I'll look forward to putting a face and name to the voice."

((Thanks anon! And as always, if folks do spy me out and about, even if I don't seem IC, never hesitate to PST me. Chances are I'm probably just people-watching and reading TRPs myself!))

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Tuesday, June 10, Part II

[Fandom Discussions]

Xander instead of Cordy by bulisen

everytime i think i’m having a good day its horrifically interrupted by remembering that Cordelia died by xandersrailcrash

So I’m in the middle of Angel season 2…. by pearlypairings

The juxtaposition of BTVS 2x13 and ATS 2x16 really highlights how unproductive it is to boil Angel’s curse down to “he loses his soul if he has sex.” by the-girl-from-another-time

I keep forgetting that my profile picture is Warren. by saivanmarly

still kills me that after several hours in her company by femmedefandom

On why Buffy loved Spike in “Dead Things” by no-resolution

i try not to get too tin foil hat about spuffy pre 5x05 by socratesgirlnextdoor

Lies My Parents Told Me by aphony-cree

I just rewatched Helpless by absolutelyspockedtohearthat

Did anyone tell Faith that Buffy died ? by roseraintears

keep thinking about how young some of unlocked potentials that were shown in Chosen are by mangio-formaggio

Your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores by riley-summers

The conflict in “ Empty places” doesnt Work because there is absolutely no way Buffys friends and sister would kick her out of her own house! by roseraintears

i know it’s usually to, like, show her purity next to vamps by slugessence

five ways Amy might have become a witch by coraniaid

Library Scene in Revelations by Multiple Authors

Which episode would best represent each conflict? by negratengoelalma

Tell me a character you cant stand in angel and why. by Royal-Tangelo-5895

Why are the crew never prepared? by Lngdnzi

What is your least favorite season of buffy and why? by Royal-Tangelo-5895

The styling department hated them that day by KENZOKHAOS

Looking for scans of any magazine featuring Glenn Quinn — especially Buffy or Angel issues by bluerosemaniac

what if these vampires were chipped by the Initiative by voldy1989

S6 E6 - Willow and Tara by ghostrider1938

Would the show be different if they all had phones? by Hot-Sea855

Give me your weird ship couples names by enthalpy01

Should Buffy coming back have broken Angel's curse? by scbalazs

What would Buffy say about Wesley wanting to unleash Angelus to defeat the Beast? by jdpm1991

Cordelia by Lopsided-Issue-8116

CWDP / Sleeper / Never Leave Me / Bring on the Night continuity by Tuxedo_Mark

The nice stepsister from "Ever After" was almost casted as Willow! by sirtch_analyst

Kennedy by Plane-Astronaut8528

Most intense fight scene in the show. It's a miracle Xander survived by Krystal_Waters

I would like to see a conversation scene between these two by Easy-Distribution223

What I really want is for vampires to be a threat again. by Rough_Plan

What do you think would have happened if Darla hadn't died in the first season by Easy-Distribution223

Viewers thought "Hush" in season 4 and "The Body" in season 5 were the best episodes of the series. by gith630

Do you think Riley’s insecurities were justified? by geekycynic83

How did you get into angel? and what caused you to watch it? by Royal-Tangelo-5895

What are some plot holes you think about in buffyverse?? by Royal-Tangelo-5895

Drusilla is Absolutely Otherworldly by Braindead_Bookworm

Were the writers foreshadowing Dawn and Xander? by silvermoon

I make Buffy memes. by bathtub-mintjulep

you’re welcome by Lukexxxxy

Buffybot clothes and impact by sarynima

The comics by Warm_Birthday_3198

I wonder how much control those monks had in season 5 by mbene913

Speaking of the Comics, I think Season 11 may be especially, uh, important right now by DeaththeEternal

The treatment of Drusilla on Season 5 by foreseethefuture

Bad Ideas by Moraulf232

A theory about Sweet and Once More With Feeling by Particular_Tip_5806

The First by Guilty-Tie164

Why did Faith work but not Amy? they play similar roles for Buffy and Willow by jdpm1991

if buffy was a truly excellent show by gemofspace

The amount of people in the btvs fandom who get nasty when you dare to like a character by riley-summers

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