#thradia

[lesbianalicent]

the way some people act about their playlists is how i act about my pinterest boards

[pyrosophist]

Gifts and Letters

It is a strange thing, when she finally pays mind to the holiday season and feels the impulse to do.. something, for once. It has been many years since she has had more than the smallest handful of people to give gifts to.

Through varying degrees of occult and official means, she sends out a variety of things over the course of several days, when the Archon turns the members of the Sunguard to their own business. Most of the letters are bewitched, unable to be read except by their intended recipients. 

---

Aestus receives a leather armband with elaborate patterns seemingly burned into it, stylish but unobtrusive. On the inside face is inscribed in Thalassian script, “The night does not survive the dawn.”

My friend,

Of the guard, you are the first with whom I spoke besides possibly the dryest interaction I have ever had with the Scion. Though we have not done so in some time, I count you among one of my few steady friends. You have seen the darkness that lurks in the mid of my nights, as I yours.

Trace the script and read it aloud, when it becomes hard. In addition to it, I grant you one favor, to call upon my talents or resources as you will it.

@shampoocommercialelves

Westel is sent a box of pies, professionally made and still-fresh through some minor spell settled over them. In addition, a hunting knife that comes sharpened, its hilt carved and wrapped with artful patterns evocative of woodland beasts, with leafwork embellished along the spine of the blade.

Westel,

You were one of the first to show me friendship among the Sunguard. Three months ago I would not have called it that, but times seem to be changing. I thank you for the kindness, however small it may have been to give.

Where the hell have you gone? I miss Ithruiel. How dare you keep him from me.

@westelfirewing

Nuellen receives a strange, enchanted necklace -- a raven’s skull formed of blackened, petrified wood, attached to a thin, sturdy cord. A note explains its purpose to give the wearer resistance against ambient fel energy or exposure.

Swiftstrike,

Not a week passes that I do not think of my grandfather and how fortunate I was to have him. I have wrestled with feelings about his death for a very long time -- I don’t believe that I am yet done mourning, or that I ever will be -- but I am infinitely grateful to know that I am serving alongside some of the few Farstriders who served alongside him. Thank you.

@thedragonisaprincess

To Thanidiel is sent a cloak of brilliant, blood red fabric. Through some workings of alchemy, the cloak seems to be a remarkable insulator, despite its light weight. Some of the warlock’s sorcery is bound to it as well, and upon investigation it is revealed to be fireproof -- and furthermore, made to deflect magical flame and heat. The underside shimmers against the light with hues of orange and gold. An attached note reads, “This one won’t burn up. Use it well.”

Highdawn,

It has been some time since we have spoken, regrettably. I am still bitter that we did not get to face off at Shadowsunder’s tournament. Though through battle I have regained familiarity with my sorcery and its limits, I would still test it against you when you are available. Consider this a challenge.

@thanidiel

Caelinda is given a pair of boots, sturdy, stylish and well-crafted. Enchantments scribed onto the seams ensure that it will last an eternity of travel -- in addition, the monk feels a little lighter on her feet, when she wears them. To accompany the gift is an ornate brooch fashioned out of gold and ruby to affix to a cloak or scarf, and a batch of festive cookies that are still warm and fresh through some minor spell.

Caelinda,

There are few words to describe the depth of affection and fondness I have for you, however much I may loathe to show it around other people. You have given me a sense of peace and welcome that I have not had in such a long, long time, and I am grateful for your love. I will strive for all my days to be worthy of it.

@superspicedinosaur

Tyleril is sent a piece of everburning coal, infused with sorcery. It is warm to the touch, and a note explains that it can be activated and deactivated through a command word. When active, it effuses strong heat and flame, presumably to be used in the forge or a fireplace. The note warns not to hold it at inopportune times.

Silversword,

Thank you for hosting me in your home the night of the bonfire party. I know that I can be abrasive at the best of times, but it is appreciated, and I wish your business good fortune.

Keep the coal out of Samiel’s hands. That boy has fire in his eyes.

@tyleril-silversword

Vaelan receives a bottle of fine wine, Suncrown vintage. This brand is only seen on shelves practically once in a blue moon -- she must have been holding onto it for some time.

Vaelan,

You’re a fine man to work and drink with, though I fear I tend to grow only more abrasive when inebriated -- but I appreciate your friendliness, and our banter. Put this wine to good use. It’s far too damn fancy for me to drink it myself straight from the bottle, and I’m less inclined to put myself into a stupor on a regular basis, nowadays.

@greatmaulsoffire

A book, old and ornately bound, is sent to Veleth. It appears to be an in-depth study and analysis of extraplanar phenomena, as well as the planes themselves and how they intersect with the material world.

Ashcaster,

I had never expected to find a kindred scholarly mind among the Blood Knights. You are a steadfast ally in battle, and I appreciate your respect and curiosity for my studies. I hope that we both might benefit from learning into the future, with Argus on the horizon.

@veleth95

To Synthiel, a Reliquarian’s sanction for the regulated study and use of alchemically-synthesized anima.

Cloudseye,

It is refreshing to speak with another pyromancer on a level of exchanging knowledge and technique, and for that I thank you -- I have not enjoyed the privilege for a very long time, different as our disciplines may be. My expertise in commanding Wrath hones sharper by the day, and I have you to thank in part for that.

@spiral-seeker

For Ka’ese, a potted Thalassian plant, with delicate leaves in hues that range from scarlet to gold -- it is bright, and fragrant. A piece of home, preserved through magic that is clearly not the warlock’s own.

Brother,

Past our twenty-fifth year I did not think I would ever write to you and say ‘Merry Winter’s Veil’ ever again. I’m still not certain on how to feel that I am doing it now, but I know that I should, after everything. So much has changed since our reunion in Azsuna. Argus yet looms in the sky, and you should know that I intend to see this war to its end. I hope for your health, through it all.

One day we shall spend this time of the year together again, as brother and sister.

@turalyon

The Magistrix Starshard’s gift arrives on the wings of a strange raven with eyes like embers, bearing the warlock’s distinct aura of magic. In a small leather case strapped to its back is a token -- metal fashioned into the emblem of the Sunguard, with its reverse face inscribed with Thinariel’s unique sigil -- and a message of rolled and sealed parchment.

Thradia,

I cannot even begin to presume what you may believe of me at present -- I apparently have an unfortunate habit for disappearing off the face of the world. You have the deepest apologies I may give, and the greatest hopes for your health and success. You are beautiful and strong, more than I could have ever taught you to be.

Know that I survive, and that I had no choice but to take my leave of the Black Harvest when Vataan abducted my brother from Dalaran (yes, I have a brother). Through his hand and mine, no trace of my tower remains in the Twisting Nether. Without my refuge, I serve the Sunguard. So much has changed that I cannot put to words.

Argus looms high in the sky; you know where I must be.

Stay the course.

@ladyliadrin

[thinariel-farmight]

Day 1

Write a diary entry for your character, dated 10 years in the future. Long hours have been whiled away between her study and her laboratory, by the time she sets down at her desk and deliberately ignores the scattered mounds of paperwork. The journal she takes up is old, bound with leather, though very, very far from her oldest book. She ponders the view outside her window – all moonlit forest and starscattered sky – and turns back to her journal. A word is spoken to unlock it, and a quill pen is dipped into ink to begin writing. The new year comes and goes as it always does, I suppose. I am left weary by Caelinda’s celebrations, though unfortunately I could not partake in as much alcohol as I wished, despite her urgings. I’ve yet more missives to write, between my work at Indaris Court, the Magisterium, the academy. At least in the latter the students are proving eager and enthused for knowledge – it makes it easy to teach them. It makes me recall olden days so frequently that I have come to loathe that my visits and sessions are intermittent at best. The Black Harvest has sent the twelfth beleaguered acolyte to my door to request my attendance in their gatherings. It has grown ever so more difficult to turn them away without cursing them, ever since they graduated from letters to people. The Burning Legion is long-since shattered, they say, as though I am unaware. I have long since grown weary of the scheming and alliances that inundate such gatherings, and I much prefer being a teacher of alchemy than the infernal arts. Let them cast for whatever ambitions they have without me. I have lived it long enough to know the ruin they invite – I am content investigating the occult under Indaris’ patronage. Ka'ese visits often. It has taken years to heal the rift between us, and still, at times there are things that divide us. It has grown easier ever since we shamed Father into the ground – though still I regret that it is metaphorical, and not literal. He presents himself the perfect diplomat, perfectly polite and mannered, though I can see he winds himself up so thoroughly. It is good that Caelinda can usually coax him into being tipsy. We talk often over the stones – his life in Dalaran is progressing well. He has a husband and more gold than he knows what to do with, which he tells me that his beloved insists on taking increasingly flamboyant vacations. I’m happy, for him. I’m glad I can say as such earnestly, after so long. Thradia is still cordial at best with him. It is a mild poison that has come between us about him, yet one that I detest nonetheless. But I cannot ignore her scars. She is weighed down, I can tell, but she is as strong-willed as I. I find myself thankful that neither of us have managed to fall off of the face of the world, to be separated once more. It fills my heart and hers to be together again, even though there is precious little I can teach her, now; she has proven that her knowledge matches mine, and my grimoire will do well, in her hands. I saw Hanniel the other day in her stead; the boy is growing hearty and vibrant, and is still dazzled by the tricks I show him. They’re little things, but it is always gratifying. Has his mother’s singing voice. Malfas is doing well for himself, there. Caelinda’s business is doing exceedingly well, though between it and my obligations we savor every moment we may spend together. I hope it is someday soon that she might steal me away for some other vacation – an adventure, she calls it – again. Her business is doing incredibly well for itself, and sometimes I find even myself in disbelief at the type of curiosities she brings in. She cares well for the hippogryph, at least; she takes more joy from flying than I do. My gratitude and love for her has not waned. She is still as stubborn as I am, but she anchors me to what matters. Has, for years now. I hope for many years more.

---

@turalyon @ladyliadrin @superspicedinosaur @korkrunchcereal

[morningflames]

a word of warning

well here’s a post i never thought i’d be making

it’s come to my attention that a Certain Someone is planning on making a comeback to WrA soon and it fills me with nothing short of dread. i spent the day yesterday warning people he terrorized and manipulated that this was happening. you know it’s bad when there’s a literal network of people who share an abuser that have remained in contact for years in the event this happened again.

i am not going to lie and say that making this post does not terrify me but i cannot in good conscience sit back and let him worm his way into the rp scene again and do what he did to me and at least half a dozen others all over again.

to summarize: tarcanus aka tarcanus frostborne is a manipulative, emotionally abusive and predatory individual that should be avoided at all costs.

i am the player behind lyrinel, a former officer of his and someone who was on the receiving end of nearly a years worth of abuse and manipulation. my experiences pale in comparison to those of others who dealt with him and came forward to me after i left his guild, and i cannot speak for anyone who does not feel comfortable coming forward. if you do want to let your voice be heard, feel free to reblog and add your own anecdotes.

my story below the cut.

tw: manipulation, emotional abuse, gaslighting, coercion, grooming

i first joined coram populo in early 2014 after my best friend and fellow survivor (i will refer to her by her character’s name of thradia from here on out) joined the raid team in december of the previous year. we were both just looking for a social place to park our characters and maybe start role playing again, as we hadn’t had a guild or dedicated rp group in a while. things were fine and friendly for the first couple of months, though it’s worth noting that a large part of the office corps had just left or was in the process of leaving when thradia and i joined. we were both 18 at the time.

i made the mistake of reaching out to tarc in the spring, when i noticed him posting to his tumblr about how busy he was. i offered to be an IC assistant of sorts to his character and he was more than happy to toss me into an absolute whirlwind. we still didn’t know much about each other, but in the span of a couple weeks we went from casual contact in guild chat to immensely long (sometimes between 10 and 12 hours) skype calls, constant DMing, and an almost uninterrupted stream of conversation. i was struggling to finish high school at this time (spoiler: i failed to graduate) and found myself suddenly caught in an all-consuming relationship with this man and his guild. from the moment i woke up to the moment i finally hung up and crawled into bed, my time was taken up by tarc and the guild and the game.

i was promoted to officer less than five months after joining the guild. this was overwhelming for a number of reasons, chief among them being the fact that i had never been an officer in a guild like this before and i was very quickly escalated to tarc’s “inner circle.” this was a circle that he evidently didn’t even include his most senior officers in, as he didn’t seem to communicate with them to the extent or abundance that he did with me - and later, when she was ALSO promoted to officer, thradia. 

within a few weeks i found myself at the center of dozens of micro-confrontations and venting from tarc about other members of the guild, raid team, and even fellow officers. every time, i would tell him he needed to take it to his co-gm and talk it through with her. she, like him, was a grown woman with a lot more experience and better people skills than me, a teenager barely out of high school, but tarc insisted on beating me over the head with his frustrations and then proceeding to guilt me and tell me i was a terrible friend when i didn’t agree with him or expressed i was uncomfortable being in the center of a vent session that i felt was unwarranted. 

tarc was never wrong. he did not apologize. the words “i’m sorry” did not exist in his vocabulary, and if they did, they were almost always followed up with the word “but.” constantly he would be sending multiple messages to me or thradia while we were running events and raids for the guild, ranting about a few particular members that he disliked at the time regardless of how we felt about said members. thradia and i would both be reduced to tears and/or anxiety attacks by his outbursts that all but demanded we take his side even if we didn’t. his feelings and circumstances were paramount. everyone else’s were just inconveniences. 

tarc was always the victim. no matter what was going on, no matter who had instigated whatever vein of conversation we were on that had gone awry, he had a way of making you feel like utter shit until you grovelled for his forgiveness, which he rarely gave. instead he would move on without giving any closure or allowing you to discuss your feelings at length. if you tried, you were the insensitive one who he couldn’t go to with his “unfiltered emotions,” which was the entire purpose of his inner circle to hear him say it. i was not allowed to just be his friend or just be an officer, i had to be both and neither at the same time, and it still was not the right course of action. nothing ever was.

tarc was openly manipulative and antagonistic, always citing it as an “inside joke” when called on it. i opened up to him once about my father’s alcoholism and how i was uncomfortable with alcohol culture and being around drunk people. regardless, he would constantly call while drunk (or maybe he was pretending to be to get a rise out of me, i honestly do not know what was genuine and what was put on with him) and make me stay on the call with him for hours. when he was (allegedly) diagnosed with an inability to process certain alcohols that could be life threatening, he continued to drink (or claimed he was drinking) dangerous amounts, which lead to me begging him to stop as i feared for his life. one of the worst anxiety attacks i have ever had was over him endangering his health and me believing i was going to see a friend die. he knew how much this upset me and he did not stop. he held me as a captive audience to his self destruction (or the playacting of it) and let me cry and beg and plead with him to take care of himself.

tarc loves to promote a clean, “family friendly” persona online. he will go on and on about the positive atmosphere his guild provides and how progress and accepting he and his “safe spaces” are. as soon as you are inducted to his inner circle, however, you learn otherwise. he will gladly engage in sexually charged conversation with you, even if you are ten years younger than him as thradia and i were. we were both legal adults, yes, but just barely. i can’t count the inappropriate remarks and jokes made about us, our friends, and even minors all in the spirit of joking “what if” conversation. he has a history of making young LGBT+ people uncomfortable, making their sexualities and identities about him and how he can relate to them. 

tarc was the most two-faced and divisive guild leader i’ve ever seen. he would rant to me mercilessly about wanting to kick one of the junior officers and raid team members in private while never saying a word to their face or bringing it up with the co-gm. he would start schisms between people, telling each what they wanted to hear and encouraging both parties not to confront each other about it, allowing the resentment and distrust to grow as he fanned the flames on both sides. he wanted people to stay in the guild and continue to basically work for him while also putting him above anyone else in their friend circles. he told straight up lies to thradia and i, claiming one of us had said things about the other that we never did, driving a wedge and distrust between us.

tarc treats his guild(s) like a business. he is entirely capitalist-minded even in an MMORPG that people play for fun, churning out “content” and keeping up appearances like a machine. he treats his officers and guild members like employees, not people. any time irl would demand attention away from the game, forcing someone to miss or cancel an event, he would subtly guilt them about it until they apologized, even if it was a dire situation or a family emergency. 

when tarc wanted to start a wow roleplaying podcast, he approached me about cohosting. he wanted a female voice, and since i was out of school and had no job lined up due to not graduating i was the perfect candidate. i came on to narrate and research the lore segment of the looking for roleplay podcast, which was little more than me paraphrasing a wowwiki article, but i was held to a “professional” standard. i had to have my research done by a certain day, my recording done in advance, etc. 

the podcast was a spot of contention for several reasons, one being the mysterious emails tarc would allegedly receive about it. the podcast had a shared email account that all three of us could access and look at, but tarc claimed that people sent emails directly to him since “everything’s under his email.” he would use these strawman emails as indirect criticism of turwinkle and i, reading them aloud or typing up what they supposedly said but NEVER producing a real screenshot or address to verify them. i’m convinced he only did this as a way to make turwinkle and i feel badly and work harder “for the listeners” to appease things tarc didn’t like about our segments. he also insinuated he got inappropriate emails about me specifically at this account but, again, i was never allowed to see them with my own eyes, just hear about them secondhand, which is why i believe they did not exist.

around this time, tarc began recording conversations without mine or thradias consent. he would start recording random sections of calls and taunt us, playing back out-of-context lines and joking that he would make “podcast commercials” out of them. they were often embarrassing, personal, or just wildly out of context lines that we didn’t want played to the public, and i heard only a fraction of what he possibly recorded of me. i have no idea what kind of material he has of me and thradia that was recorded without us knowing or consenting. it felt like blackmail. it still does.

i internalized all of this. i thought this was normal. i thought he was an excellent guild leader and a role model for leadership. i had begun to treat world of fucking warcraft like a goddamn job and i thought that was fine. my life revolved around coddling and entertaining him, socializing and promoting and recruiting for the guild, raiding, running pvp entirely on my own, keeping up IC connections and attending events, recording for the podcast, all of it. i ate, breathed, and slept wow and coram. it was insane. i had been talked into having no boundaries for myself and my time, and any time i tried to correct that and build a boundary i was attacked for it until i backed down. i have never felt worse about myself than i did while i was in this guild. i trusted no one. i was worn thin.

i finally had enough early 2015. at this point this man was trying to get me to come live with him hundreds of miles from my family so that i could attend a technical school in his area. i am still 18. he was 28. i had been trying to step down from my position as an officer, citing if i was going to be LIVING WITH HIM that it was going to give me an unfair bias in my standing in the guild. this set him all the way off. he was planning a trip to atlantic city for me, himself, and thradia, who i had a ticket to visit for my birthday. he was getting frantic because he had been pursuing thradia for months, and i was no longer cooperating. 

when i threw this wrench in everything, our relationship devolved in the span of a few hours. within the day i left the guild on all of my characters and pulled myself out of all of his projects. within the month i had frantically faction changed several characters and eventually unsubscribed from the game for two years because i lived in fear of him. he had always alluded to “knowing people” who could hack and track IP addresses and kept tabs on everyone who visited his blogs and websites. i didn’t know what i thought he was going to do - all i knew was his thinly veiled brags and threats were at the forefront of my mind. i have played this game since 2006, but for the first time in my life i couldn’t enjoy it out of fear and exhaustion caused by him. he had ruined my favorite game in less than a year and made me paranoid about my entire online presence, to the point where this blog was abandoned for months before i turned it into what it is today. 

and the thing is, tarc’s not a creepy or abrasive guy when you first meet him. he’s funny and charismatic and outgoing. he loves to tell you about his world travels and show you pictures of him petting baby tigers at rescues in southeast asia and go on about these crazy winnings he would have in vegas. he’s larger than life - at least online. he came to visit me twice in the year that we knew each other. the first time was also the first time i had ever met thradia in person, and we had been friends for six years at that point. he has met my family, and that of several other members (both my age and older). no one ever questions why he’s there. no one ever thought it was odd that for a week he hung out with three teenage girls exclusively. 

this horrifies me to this day. 

thradia and i are still best friends. we compared notes and were sickened at how we were played against each other. slowly, i returned to the game. i reached out to people who had left or been on their way out when i first joined the guild, curious to see if there was a common thread. there was. everyone i spoke with had similar stories: being made to feel like shit, nothing they ever did for the guild was enough, they weren’t allowed to miss events or raids no matter what the reason, they were questioned and joked about inappropriately and made to feel uncomfortable and preyed upon, etc. i was not the only one. thradia was not the only one. at least half a dozen other former members and/or officers had these stories, and tarc just kept getting away with it.

he cannot keep getting away with it.

i am being open with this for the first time in six years because i don’t want to see it happen again. because i don’t want to know that, had i said something sooner, more people could have been protected. i was 18 when this was going on. i had no real world experience. i had no standard for how i should be treated, much less by someone almost ten years my senior and who claimed to be my friend. but he knew better. he should have had boundaries and space and lines he refused to cross. he did not. he crippled my trust in people for a very long time. i have only become comfortable playing wow on horde side again in the past year or so. i finally stopped looking over my shoulder, /who’ing him and his guild, avoiding rp hubs. but now i feel like i can’t do that anymore. the safety i have worked so hard to achieve for myself is now threatened.

i understand my experiences are mild in comparison to what some offenders on this server have done. but at the end of the day, this year was the worst year of my life. to this day, the skype ringtone literally triggers me because i associated it with him and his endless calls that i never knew what to expect from or how to get out of. i can’t look at certain parts of the game without feeling fear. for months i held my breath going online or logging into wow because i was waiting for him to pop up and start accusing me of things or trying to guilt me into coming back.

tarc ran coram populo, a guild that, as far as i know, still staggers along with a few members who can’t be bothered to leave. whether or not he’s planning to return there, i don’t know. he organizes and runs (from what i can tell) the azerothian trade federation (whatever the fuck that is). i don’t know what his plans are. i don’t know what his online presence looks or will look like when he comes crawling back. but i beseech you, do not give him the time of day. do not give him a platform, no matter how nice and “woke” he makes himself out to be. he lures you in with humanist ideals and then sucks the absolute life out of you- and that’s if he doesn’t want to pressure you into a relationship on top of it.

to tarc: if somehow you’re reading this, stay away from me. keep my name out of your mouth. i do not want an apology and a string of half-assed, gaslighting excuses. i have records of past conversations. i have screenshots. i know what you fucking did to me and to my friends. i do not want you back. i do not want you here. i do not want to share space with you. i want you to go away and never come back. 

you alone made it so hard to trust myself and other people. thradia and i both have had to seek therapy due to you. and now, you have the audacity to come riding back into the scene on a white horse, being self righteous about abuse and predatory behavior online, and have the utter gall to condemn behaviors you yourself emulated without apology or second thought. i know you think you’re a good guy. that’s what makes you so fucking dangerous. you genuinely don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, and if you do, you’ve buried it and squirreled it away and have covered it up to the point where you can turn any accusation back on the claimant. 

do not attempt to contact me. do not try to threaten or appease me. go back where you were. i am finally at home again, and you will not take that from me. go. away.

[pennarts]

when belf rp goes down you better believe that drama, and murder is involved

also gay stuff

[thradiastarshard]

“You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut, just that fast.”  — Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless

In a perfect world, Thradia would have slipped in and out of the apartment without being seen. She would have taken her seal and her research journals and disappeared into thin air. In a perfect world, she would have been long gone by the time her husband returned to an empty home. He would feel her absence like a stab to the gut, and would have to beg her forgiveness on his hands and knees.

But the last few days have made it abundantly clear that this isn’t a perfect world. None of this would have happened in a perfect world.

She hears the lock jiggle and the door slowly swing open and knows instantly who it is. She ignores the heavy footfalls as they thump closer and closer. She keeps her head lowered and her eyes fixed on her stack of letters, continuing to pick and choose which to keep and which to trash as his shadow fills the doorway to her office.

Silence.

Then:

“Thradia,” Alorinus croaks. She can smell the alcohol from her desk, and of course she doesn’t respond. The only sound is the soft crinkling of parchment as she drops the letter she was holding into the one of the piles and picks up the next one.

“Please,” he then whispers.

Her eyes snap up, staring at him unblinkingly.

“Just say something.”

Her eyes drop back to her desk, and she resumes her scholarly shuffling of papers. “There aren’t enough words in the Thalassian language to accurately convey my fury, but I can try if you’d like.” Her voice is icy and unwavering.

Alorinus doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t move either.

So Thradia finishes her sorting, and she slides one of her piles into the satchel resting against her chair. She stands, pulling her cloak over her shoulder. “Move,” she growls. The soulstone around her neck isn’t hiding under any illusions today. Energy roils within it, and every small pulse of magic beats against her chest like a second heart. Alorinus stares at it for a moment, then his bleary gaze shifts to her unyielding face.

“Move,” she repeats.

He does. She makes it halfway across the living room before he tries again. “You’re still wearing your wedding ring.” It’s so dangerously, horribly hopeful that she stops dead in her tracks.

“I should kill you right now,” she whispers, her hand curling into a fist.

“Why haven’t you taken it off?” The fist begins to shake.

“There’s nothing stopping me from carving out your heart right here.”

“I’ll give you the knife if you tell me why you haven’t taken off the ring.”

Thradia Starshard is nothing if not spiteful. She tilts her head, glancing at him over one shoulder. Without breaking their stare, she unclenches her fist and slips the ring off of her finger. It doesn’t bounce as it hits the ground. She holds his gaze for a few heartbeats longer. “Fuck you, Alorinus,” she says, and leaves without looking back.

She’s been at Ardathiel for a week when she finally approaches Lyrinel with the finished product. Hanniel is fast asleep in Nel’s lap as she sits on the patio—neither of them much like using the balcony, lately—and stares out into the empty garden.

Nel’s ears twitch at Thradia’s approach, but she doesn’t acknowledge her otherwise. Thradia takes the chair opposite her and silently offers her the scroll she’d been hiding behind her back. Nel’s brow furrows, and she warily unrolls the parchment. Her eyes scan the page, and then she jumps. “Thradia, you can’t-”

“Yes, I can. It’s why I went to retrieve that damn seal in the first place, it wouldn’t have been legally binding without a Magistrix’s approval. Hanniel needs the security more than I do, and this way no one will ever try to use me for it again.” Thradia looks to the garden. The plants are already growing a bit wild, but Thradia likes it that way. Their gardener, an herbalist Nel had befriended in Silvermoon while pregnant, had lost someone in her family and returned to the capital for the funeral. The irony.

“It’s your birthright,” Lyrinel whispers. Hanniel mumbles in his sleep, adjusting himself against his mother’s chest.

“It’s just a house,” Thradia retorts.

“On land that the Starshards have held since Quel’thalas was founded!” Lyrinel exclaims. The pair of them quickly fall silent as Hanniel stirs at the sudden noise. Thradia waits until he settles before quietly continuing.

“Yes, and there used to be a lot more of it, remember? This isn’t the first time a Starshard is selling property.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Thradia, and this isn’t just bits and pieces, this is the heart of the estate. Ardathiel has always belonged to the Starshard family-”

“And after my death there will be no Starshards left. I’m simply getting my affairs in order earlier than usual, which is probably a reasonable idea given the Legion homeworld that’s suspended above us as we speak.” Argus was, in fact, floating on the horizon; a blemish against the otherwise picturesque Thalassian sky that always seemed to be in your line of sight, no matter where you looked. “As far as I’m concerned, Hanniel is my heir, and nothing is going to change that.”

“Not even your own children?”

“I’m not having children.”

Lyrinel grows very quiet, taking Thradia’s left hand and examining the pale strip of skin where her wedding ring once was. “There is a catch.” Lyrinel looks up at that, eyebrow quirking as Thradia pulls her hair over one shoulder and bares the back of her neck. “I want you to burn it off.”

“Thradia, you know I can’t do fire magic, shouldn’t you speak about this with-”

“Yes, you can. Nesselde Tala’vel was good for something, at least. And this isn’t something Zosine would understand.”

Lyrinel studies her face, one hand resting on Hanniel’s back and the other holding Thradia’s. “Why, after all this time?”

“I’m tired of my life being haunted by family ghosts.” Thradia was not exclusively referring to the Starshards.

Lyrinel’s lips press together into a thin line. “It’s going to scar,” she finally sighs.

“I don’t care.”

Effective immediately, I, Thradia Ae’therin Starshard, hereby bequeath the ownership of Ardathiel to one Hanniel Irinore Morningflame II, to be managed by his mother Lyrinel Serayn Morningflame until he comes of age. This includes all land, resources, and buildings found upon the property described in Exhibit I attached hereto.

Signed: T.A. Starshard

Witness: Lyrinel Serayn Morningflame

[zosine]

Zosine:

My mother has been killed. My daughter Cyra is currently at Ardathiel with Lyrinel Daybreak. You are to retrieve her at once and keep her until I return home, whenever that may be.

Please.

- Essalie

Zosine lofted a brow at the note, hastily written and still smelling faintly of fel and ash. How Essalie had even gotten the news of her child’s whereabouts, he had no idea, but it seemed that things now fell to him.

Wonderful.

It wasn’t as if the ranch was at max capacity, especially with Vistara, Ell, and the Fleetfoot sisters scheduled to be on duty for a few more weeks yet. Another child running around only somewhat supervised would just be another day at the ranch, really.

If not for what she’d done for him, and the urgency that could only be conveyed by a truly panicked parent, Zosine would have scoffed at the note. But the fact that he was able to walk to the stable and mount his irritable hawkstrider entirely unassisted, without aid of his cane or another person, was entirely Essalie’s doing, and for that he was eternally in her debt.

So he found himself, riding through the Ghostlands, moving almost by instinct towards Ardathiel, following the current of magic that was constantly being sucked toward the grounds to keep them rejuvenated among the otherwise magically withered wood. 

He hadn’t been back since he paid a visit to Lyrinel while she was pregnant. She’d frightened him, in truth, with how deeply entranced she was in her own dream, completely disconnected from reality, especially where Thradia was concerned. 

But he could tell something had changed, if only because the wrought iron gates leading to the property were now shut, where they used to be open almost all the time.

A pulse of arcane seemed to examine him, find him worthy, and animate the gates to open, creaking ever so slightly with the motion. Zosine urged his strider through, feeling his anxiety get the better of him. 

He knocked on the golden lynx head knocker and waited. The aura around the grounds had changed. It was quieter, more aware somehow. The dreamlike quality was still there, but now it felt like a lucid dream rather than one so deep that you may never wake from it. 

Lyrinel answered the door, and she was the most different thing of all. She bounced Hanniel on her hip, clinging to him. She didn’t smile when she saw Zosine, not at first. She looked him over critically, and as she did so, he caught sight of the blade she wore at her hip.

“Expecting someone... else?” he dared to ask.

She finally smiled, but it was not the lazy, languid smile of the dreamer she used to be. Her eyes were bright and alert, catching his every move and intonation. “You could say that. How can I help you, Zosine?”

Her words were crisp and curt, lilting as always, but they reminded him of her clerical days at the Academy. Whatever had broken her spell, he was glad for it. 

“I’m here to fetch Cyra, actually,” he replied, offering the note as way of explanation. “It seems her grandmother has... passed away.” 

Lyrinel looked the note over, a shadow passing briefly over her face. “Asanna. Horribly sad. She was always so kind to me.” She handed the note over, turning to call over her shoulder. “Thradia? Could you bring Cyra here? Someone’s here to pick her up.”

Zosine found it odd that she referred to him as “someone” to his own adopted daughter, but with all the strange signals passing around him, he didn’t want to push it. They waited in tense silence, which Zosine broke by conjuring a butterfly of flame to dance about for Hanniel to watch and laugh at. It was a favorite trick among all of the children at home.

Cyra soon appeared, Thradia lurking behind her. She came obediently to Lyrinel’s side, but Thradia lingered in the shadows, unwilling to come fully to the door. Zosine peered at her over Lyrinel’s shoulder, but she turned away and retreated back into the house. Zosine was puzzled.

“Did something happen?” he finally asked, something he probably should have asked sooner.

“Rhaelia’s dead. Thradia and Alorinus are not speaking at the moment.”

“Oh.”

“I killed her.”

Zosine’s eyes went again to the blade at her hip, the vice-like way she held Hanniel to her side. “Oh.” He looked down at Cyra, forcing himself to smile. “Hello, Cyra. I’m a good friend of your mother’s. She’s asked me to come and take you home with me. There’s lots of other children to play with there. Would you like to go meet them?”

Cyra nodded, a cautious smile slowly brightening her features. She offered a hand up to Zosine, which he carefully took. He looked back to Lyrinel, who was receding back into her fortress, getting ready to shut the door.

“Good job, Nel,” was all he had to say.

The smile she gave him in return sent a chill down his spine, even as he lead Cyra to his waiting strider. 

[talandriel]

Shroud

The infirmary was quiet at this hour of the night.  The single medic glanced up at the sound of footsteps, then looked away.  

A sliver of light widened under the door at the end of the hall. The linen curtain surrounding Lyrinel’s cot was heavy and white. 

It looks like a shroud.

Shift change came and went while Talandriel kept her silent vigil. “I expect she’ll wake soon,” observed the medic when he came by on his early rounds. 

She dipped her head and brushed the back of her hand across her cheek. “I have to go,” she whispered to the girl with the golden curls.  “My orders will come any day.”

Her fingers curled over the limp white hand. “I’ll find them, Nel. I promise.  I’ll look for her first on the other side.”

lyrinelmorningflame

[lesbianalicent]

the entire point of having ocs is to make the most unhinged aus for them you possibly can. like a joint succession-bones au should not possibly work, AND YET,

[lesbianalicent]

thradia

B A S I C S

full name: thradia ae’therin starshard

gender: female

sexuality: bisexual

pronouns: she/her

O T H E R S

family: lyrinel morningflame - childhood best friend/adoptive sister, hanniel morningflame - godson, liara aerra’then - gf (DECEASED), zosine goldmyst - mentor/adoptive father, thinariel farmight - mentor/adoptive mother, alariah verrodyn - mother (DECEASED), mae’daras starshard - father (DECEASED), alorinus daybreak - husband, morisell redsky - ????body????guard????fuckbuddy????

birthplace: ardathiel

job: magistrix of silvermoon specializing in demonic and alchemical research

phobias: [lana del rey voice] NOTHING SCARES ME ANYMORE, failure

guilty pleasures: cinnamon rolls, lighting up her demons like christmas trees when she’s mildly irritated, experimenting on kirin tor agents for shits and giggles, you know, girl stuff

M O R A L S

alignment: lawful evil

sins - WRATH

virtues - patience, justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert: introvert

organized/disorganized: disorganized

close minded/open-minded: close minded

calm/anxious: anxious

disagreeable/agreeable: disagreeable

cautious/reckless: cautious

patient/impatient: patient

outspoken/reserved: reserved

leader/follower: follower

empathetic/unempathetic: unempathetic

optimistic/pessimistic: pessimistic

traditional/modern: traditional

hard-working/lazy: hard-working

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: alorinus & thradia, morisell & thradia 

ot3: lyrinel & thradia & autonomy

brotp: thinariel & thradia, lyrinel & thradia

notp: t///arcanus & thradia thradia & morals

[lesbianalicent]

eronais essalie and amphion because someone has to keep him relevant and goddammit i guess that bitch is me

already did essalie so have my blood knights

B A S I C S

full name: eronais liada fleetfoot

gender: female

sexuality: pansexual

pronouns: she/her

O T H E R S

family: arienne fleetfoot - mother (DECEASED), ithise fleetfoot - sister, arienne fleetfoot II - daughter, taliesin fleetfoot - son

birthplace: silvermoon city

job: blood knight

phobias: deep water

guilty pleasures: bloodthistle

M O R A L S

alignment: lawful evil

sins - lust, wrath, pride

virtues - diligence

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert: extrovert

organized/disorganized: disorganized

close minded/open-minded: open-minded

calm/anxious: calm

disagreeable/agreeable: agreeable

cautious/reckless: reckless

patient/impatient: impatient

outspoken/reserved: outspoken

leader/follower: follower

empathetic/unempathetic: unempathetic

optimistic/pessimistic: pessimistic

traditional/modern: modern

hard-working/lazy: lazy

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: morisell & eronais

ot3: ????

brotp: morisell & eronais, ithise & eronais

notp: eronais would sleep with anyone that moves ok no one is off limits for her

B A S I C S

full name: amphion aranir brighthaze daybreak

gender: male 

sexuality: bisexual 

pronouns: he/him

O T H E R S

family: tarela daybreak - sister, vaeliel redsky - sister, atheste brighthaze - sister (DECEASED), rhaelia daybreak - mother (DECEASED), aranir brighthaze - father (DECEASED), alorinus daybreak - uncle, nesselde tala’vel - aunt, lyrinel morningflame - wife, hanniel morningflame - son

birthplace: silvermoon city

job: blood knight knight of the silver hand bc they’re the only people who would have him and the bks were Not Happy About It

phobias: his mother

guilty pleasures: LMAO

M O R A L S

alignment: true neutral used to be neutral evil but we Grow

sins - sloth i did the daybreaks as the seven deadly sins and that is Him ok

virtues - L M A O

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert: introvert

organized/disorganized: disorganized

close minded/open-minded: close minded

calm/anxious: anxious

disagreeable/agreeable: disagreeable

cautious/reckless: reckless

patient/impatient: impatient

outspoken/reserved: reserved

leader/follower: follower

empathetic/unempathetic: unempathetic

optimistic/pessimistic: pessimistic

traditional/modern: traditional

hard-working/lazy: lazy

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: lyrinel & amphion, hamearis & amphion LISTENNNNN OTP IS A BAD WORD BANG BUDDY IS A BETTER WORD

ot3: rhaelia’s grave & amphion & dancing on it

brotp: caprinah & amphion

notp: thradia & amphion 

[thinariel-farmight]

Thinariel Farmight

Appearance -

Gender: Female

Race: Sin’dorei

Height: 6′4″

Eye Color: Fel Green

Hair Color: Pale, silvery white.

The Facts -

Birthday: June 29th

Occupation: Alchemist, Scholar, Initiate of the Suncasters, and master of Destruction magic.

Sexual identification: Asexual

Romantic identification: Biromantic

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Criminal History: Records indicate arson, sometime a few hundred years  ago.

Relationship Status: Single

Favorites –

Favorite food: Ribeye steak.

Favorite drink: Whiskey.

Favorite artist: She has a large appreciation of historical or archaeological art, especially architecture, sculpture, and pottery.

Favorite scents: Parchment, herbs and ink. Sulfur, smoke and ash. Alchemy laboratories, libaries.

Favorite person(s): Thradia, Malfas, Balthori, Aestus, Caelinda, and Thanidiel.

Randoms –

Ten facts about your muse:

⚫  Thinariel is partially demonic, in physical and spiritual nature -- this was brought about by the curse placed on her by Vataan, and manifests itself in her intense body heat, discolored limbs and claws, cat eyes, and sharpened teeth. She has searched and searched for a way to break the curse, to little avail beyond halting the corruptive process. 

⚫  Thinariel suffers from severe PTSD, surrounding her several events throughout her life but mostly her repeated battles and struggle with Vataan, her curse, and and the ramifications of both. It’s not something that she’s coped with well, and the psychological duress is a large factor in her general mental state.

⚫ Thradia Starshard -- Thinariel’s old protege -- is the single most important person in her life, and she sees her as the daughter and family she never had after a point early in her own life. She regrets that her reasons for first approaching and teaching her were in themselves selfish, and worries about her constantly, though she is immensely proud and fully believes she is a capable and powerful warlock in her own right. 

⚫ Thinariel has only recently started trying to reconcile with her twin brother, Ka’ese, and this has been a driving force in her desire for solace and redemption. Both of the twins were manipulated and abused by their father as adults, with Thinariel being made to feel inferior to her brother’s unattainable talent and power, and was neglected and isolated because of this. She has an ineffably deep hatred for her father, who is still alive today.

⚫ In the past, Thinariel had a long scholarly career spanning the better part of 350 years. Her foremost field of study has always been alchemical science, of which she holds a doctorate in, as well as a handful of minor degrees in other fields. She firmly believes in the value of knowledge and intellectual discourse, and though her professional interest has always been alchemy, she had a fascination with physics, biology, history, literature, astronomy, and magical theory. Before the Fall of Quel’thalas, she had an impressive personal library and laboratory.

⚫ Thinariel is competent at swordplay. Both she and her brother were taught by their uncle as children, and it was a skill she continued through her academic career to cultivate self-discipline. It came in handy to survive after the Fall of Quel’thalas, though nowadays she has little reason to use it more than sparingly. She has an interest in relearning it again, to have a way to fight without being immensely destructive, but is hindered by the disability of her left arm.

⚫  After the Fall of Quel’thalas, Thinariel was part of an effort by several alchemists to create remedies and concoctions to salve people’s mana addictions. When Rommath returned and they siphoned from demons instead, the same concoctions sometimes contained trace elements of demonic matter. This was presumably where she began as a warlock.

⚫  Thinariel is the only known surviving member of a coven of flame warlocks that formed in the wake of the Fall and Rommath’s return, which based itself out of the ruins of a College of Pyromancy in the Ghostlands. This is where she first learned to draw and harness hellfire from the Twisting Nether and to bind demons, though it’s unclear how it met its end. She has told no one, and the area is suspiciously void of any notable demonic presence.

⚫ Thinariel is essentially a walking, living furnace. Her body runs far hotter than it should, and she will occasionally exhale any combination of smoke, embers, or fire depending on her emotional state -- generally, moments of anger or passion or magical strain will raise her temperature and more readily ignite her breath. She has an increased metabolic rate because of this, and an enormous appetite. She is also, to a significant extent, resistant to fire.

⚫ Though she's confident in her skills and abilities, Thinariel is deeply insecure about her body and image, hence her concealing attire and reserved physical nature. This come from being naturally very tall and willowy, the physical corruptions of the curse (which she loathes), her scars, and struggles with being  comfortable in her own skin.

Five Things -

Things they like: - Reading - Proper intellectual discourse. - To nobody’s surprise, fire. - Fighting - Solitude - Drinking

Things they dislike: - Being disrespected or ridiculed. - Fools, of every variety. - Frigid cold. - Willful ignorance. - Feeling powerless. - Being touched without permission.

Good habits:

- Indomitable and persevering. - Powerful - Resourceful - Intellectual - Decisive - Pragmatic - Observant - Calculating - Just

Bad Habits:

- Paranoid - Bitter - Prone to anger and wrath. - Reckless - Terrible at self-care and self-love. - Harsh, sometimes to the point of cruelty. - Self-sacrificing to the point of self-destruction. - Vindictive

Personalities they gravitate toward:

- Intellectual - Witty - Firm in their convictions. - Determined - Hardworking - Ironically, people who fall under a Good alignment.

Personality types they avoid:

- Cowardly - Holier-than-thou - Arrogant - Irrational - Immature - Weak-willed

Fears:.

- Vataan - Failure - Being forgotten. - Inevitability

[thinariel-farmight]

12: What is one of the most primary things your OC feels that is missing from their life? + description of 2. Them several years past their main adventure

12: What is one of the most primary things your OC feels that is missing from their life?

The main, singular thing Thina feels is missing from her life currently is safety. She is harried by more-or-less constant paranoia, because she knows there are active forces at play that hunt her and very much want to see her dead. Joining the Sunguard as opposed to the formal Thalassian military, her cloak and hood, the nonflashy attire – she’s frequently in a mindset of keeping a low profile, while she works on accruing power she can use to fight back against that. It’s something at the forefront of her mind often, and it damages her mental health severely by how constant it is.

Description 2: Them several years past their main adventure.

Her time had finally run out.

She dimly felt the force of her fall as she slid back and down against the stone wall, and she tilted her head up at an ashen, alien sky. Well, she didn’t suppose she expected to die on Azeroth anyways – planeswalkers rarely do. Some part of her knew, anyways, that this adventure would be her last, by how dimly she felt the inner flame burning.

It had been years since Vataan’s fall. The final confrontation that, before, she had never expected to survive. But she had, surrounded by friends, family. She remembered their faces – Thradia, Navian, Ka’ese, Balthori. Thanidiel, Aestus, Caelinda. Others. The thought came with a measure of disbelief, yet also a small smile. One’s life flashes before their eyes in their dying moments, as their heart flutters and the strength fades from their limbs. It was only fitting – had there been one part of her she wished to bring with her into oblivion, it would be them.

There was always some conflict or another to attend to, of course, even after the Burning Legion had been felled, and they had finally slain the Eredar who had cursed her. She had retaken her demiplane, restored her power, but this time it would be to aid, not to destroy. Philosophically, at least – the means remained the same, but it was with gratitude and appreciation in her heart, when she lead and followed friends unto the field of battle and off. Fighting for the right reasons was, to absolutely nobody’s surprise, better for one’s health and being than anger, and revenge. If redemption could be had even for a half-demon, she supposed she had attained it, as that was the first true solace in her life, before her final death.

She closed her eyes, and felt her breath lull into a slowing pace, bit by bit. Faintest embers stirred behind and to the left of her sternum, flickering. She knew she would be remembered, and that was a second solace. She’d wringed the promises out of them, after all. Ka'ese said he would write a book, for Ardathiel and the Ivory Spire. Though, her heart still ached. It would be better if she could live on, but.. this was not so bad, after all. She could rest.

One last intake of air and one last exhalation, as the embers die and give off one last puff of smoke, and the curse that had wound itself so deeply in her soul finally dissolves. The smoke drifts up into nothingness, and after a moment, she follows.

[pyrosophist]

alaynestones's Thradia Starshard, aka the biggest most precious nerdbaby of all time.