Truth

i miss coming home to a vent chat full of people, complaining about tanking, whining about gear, being concerned over sloppy pulls and wiping in raids, my 'tankadin training', counting emblems, and freaking out over killing the tiger boss in ZG...

it keeps my mind from falling apart as it is in its current state.

i hope to hear/see you all soon.

RP Table: Whimsi

Whimsi smiled as she scanned the horizon from Krasus' Landing. "Beautiful isn't it, Tumnus?" she said dreamily, speaking to the broad-striped tabby at her feet. The feline rubbed himself against her calves, his loose fur sticking to the woolen material of her robe. Dalaran had easily impressed her beyond her expectations. The fountains were beautiful, the nightly fee at the inns were affordable, the vendors were pleasant, and there was always something happening wherever one went - just the other day, Tumnus scampered off after a poor engineer's pet mechanical squirrel, and as Whimsi managed to get a hold of the playful feline, the engineer simply smiled and accepted her panicked apology without a problem...

She propped her head up with a hand as the rhythm of approaching dragons reached her ears, eventually ruffling her hair and sleeve hems as they soared over her to land. A loud hiss erupted from Tumnus' chest and Whimsi bent down to pick him up, relaxing his feeble frame from its arched position. "Oh shush, Mr. Grumpy," she cooed. "It's just a pro-to-drake. No need to get all huffy." She planted a kiss between his ears, above his brilliant golden eyes, "So silly, Tumnus." He let out a low, irritated meow and she set him down.

It was a good thing she didn't return her gaze to the skyline or she would have missed Tumnus' spontaneous dart for the stairways that lead into the city. "Tumnus!" she gasped. "Get back here!" Sprinting after her pet, she watched as he stopped in front of a perky pug, his fur bristling along his arched back. Whimsi quickly snatched him into her arms, but before she could scamper off like nothing had happened, the pug growled and yipped, catching its owner's attention. The undead priest slowly looked from the finely crafted boots up to the fur-adorned leg patches, the gaudy buckled belt, the dented chest piece, the large pauldrons... With her head fully tilted upward, her eyes finally came to rest upon the sight of a large, fearsome horned helmet that contained two frosty blue eyes, both of which were glaring down at her. Her eyes widened and she swallowed nervously as a breath of hot air shot from a vertical mouth opening in the helm, vaporizing and drifting upward in the frost-bitten air, "S-Sorry, sir... er... heh, we'll... we'll be going now." She squeaked the last few words of her sentence, but nevertheless managed to run off with Tumnus in one piece. Again, Dalaran had proven to be one of the most interesting places to call "home."

RP Table: Tabijin

The White Lady and Blue Child hung listlessly in the night sky. With his usual pile of mail and packages tucked away in his tattered messenger bag, the old troll sat atop one of the large boulders before the grand gate of Orgrimmar. He let out a ragged sigh, his shoulders sagging forward as he hunched over, setting his elbows on his knees.

Months... No, years... of waiting for a word of his only daughter's whereabouts had finally run its course and, without the flame his soul once harbored, he realized there was nothing left. He blinked several times, fighting the tears that he had never allowed himself to weep. The monocle that framed his right eye fell from his face, dangling from its chain. His right hand reached out and tucked the fragile object into his vest pocket.

"Well," he began, addressing his departed wife with a few sniffles, "what now, Zabeni?" The gentle Durotar breeze whisked past him as if responding to his question. A tear fell down his wrinkled blue cheek and he buried his face in his hands. Wiping his cheeks on the back of his right hand, his gaze lifted to the stars, unsure of what to think. He opened his mouth again but before he could even utter a word, a white feather brushed the tip of his long, crooked nose before landing in his lap. His scarlet red eyes struggled to focus for a moment as he brought the soft object to his face. "Wha-what do you mean?" he tilted his head. The wind blew past him once more, snatching the feather from his fingertips.

The breeze whistled in his ears before dying again. Let go.

Reluctantly, he shook his head, his large pointed ears swaying. "I... I can't." He grimaced and sighed, deciding to get up and head to the vault to sort the mail that awaited his undivided attention. Though, as he bent down to pick up his messenger bag, another white feather rested on the torn flap. He reached down to pick it up, but again the wind carried it away from his grasp. Watching it lift high above him and over the city walls, he slung his bag strap onto a bony shoulder. He closed his eyes as the breeze caressed his face, rustling his long sleeves and tousled white hair.

"I love you, too," he breathed, opening his eyes again. "Thank you."

RP Table: Greyer

The rocky seaside was possibly one of the worst places a kingdom could settle on. Cold, frostbitten winters announced their arrivals with seemingly endless days of rain, and continued on in that fashion until the weather allowed a beam of sunshine or a plain cloudy day. Greyer ran his cold fingers through his mousy brown hair, slicking it back. Taking his pipe from his inner vest pocket, he placed it in his mouth, but didn't bother with lighting it - the sheets of rain cascading from the sky would have made it impossible, and even attempts of shielding a flame from the downpour would not save it from the wind.

He shrugged, continuing to lean against the side of city hall. Being around society again was refreshing, he hated to admit. Their fear was almost exhilarating, just watching them scurry to and fro in the rain made him grin. "Good evening, Mister Thewlis." He gave a nod in salutation as the gentleman walked past, keeping his hold on his top hat as he greeted Greyer with a slight smile and a cautionary statement about getting indoors and out of the rain. Greyer smiled in return and shook his head as the man continued on his way down the cobblestone path.

The wind began to pick up, causing the candlelit lanterns to swing from their hooks. He took this as a sign to get up and head back to the family tannery, his current place of residence. After casting a backward glance at the city hall, he weaved his way around the lamp posts, a little skip in his step. When he arrived to the small shoppe, Spritzer - the young bartender who had recently become his constant evening companion - was already at the door, apparently eager for his return. "Locked out again?" he chuckled, pulling an iron key from his trouser pocket. The youth nodded, shivering. "Get in," he smiled, placing a hand on Spritzer's shoulder and nudging him over the threshold. "Guess I'll have Fenrir make a duplicate key for you tomorrow morning." Spritzer prodded at the logs in the fireplace with a thick twig before successfully getting them to catch flame. As Greyer removed his thick coat and hung it by the door, the evening ritual of settling down for the night began; and, as the bartender climbed into Faolan's old bed, Greyer slipped into his bedroom.

Closing the door behind him, he watched as several pieces of paper hanging from the walls fluttered. He lit the oil lamps around the room with caution before sitting down at his desk, continuing his research about the Curse that had fallen over the kingdom he had once loved.

[I know this piece doesn't have much to tell, but well, I wanted to share the design of it, and, perhaps confirm that Greyer and Spritzer aren't camping by the gates like they were in previous story drafts, but staying in the Lyall Tannery - the family shoppe. I guess it kinda shows Greyer's "gentler" side as well, if anything.]

a photo.

...wrote to someone regarding the state of the Lyall family tannery, claiming that I wanted to buy it. These came back in response.



[Vintage Photo credit]