Crosses her arms and stares up at him, an eyebrow raised almost imperiously like the queen she never wanted to be. “Well? I’m waiting. Care to explain this?” // @kingmenethil

Jaina Proudmoore – Knights of the Frozen Throne

ARTHAS:

“  𝕾ee, you tease well yourself! It’s all in jest, Jaina. You understand, don’t you? To a weapon or casting, words are silly and powerless, anyway.”

“I could teach you a thing or two about just how powerless words can be, but unlike a certain brash prince I happen to understand the importance of restraint.” She strides up to him, first placing a delicate finger to his lips to silence any further argument. And once she’s certain that there’ll only be merciful quiet, Jaina unloads her burden into his arms. One book after another until they’re piled high enough to obscure his vision. “There. Do try to keep up. We have quite a ways to go.”

ARTHAS:

“ 𝕿easing in this manner is hardly fun. I’m sure such distress would make a damsel as yourself conjure up a solution, should I fail? ”

“...They should throw you into the stockades for a joke like that, but now that you mention it. Why, yes. Yes I can take care of this little dilemma perfectly fine by myself.”

ARTHAS:

“ 𝔅ooks? Well, I’d say it’s heroic in a sense of literary…concern? Care?

             I can handle such a task, I think.”  

“If I didn’t know better I’d almost suspect you were teasing me 

                   --especially when a damsel such as myself am in dire need of help. ”

        “I suppose I can let you carry my books. For now.”

i have been resurrected by the power of angsty ships.

Stranger:

The fog of war has left no place untouched - not even in a place as peaceful as the foothills. Yet the halfling could appreciate that these hillsides were still a rather tranquil place to travel, even if coaxed with an underlying melancholy. Away from the path most traveled she was; no former monuments were in immediate sight (&nor was she, lest someone truly be looking for her kind) which made for an even more peaceful experience; a place to collect her thoughts and meditate the mind. 

Along her travels she had come across yet another remnant of war - though perhaps one a bit more natural than the ones most had bore witness too. A creature, clearly deteriorated with the ticking of time (if she were being hopeful, of course) lay bare; ripped to pieces by some other predator - or perhaps another. The details were difficult to make out without close inspection, though the smell that wafted from the carcass was not one that could ever be called pleasant; Death had most certainly reached this being before she ever could.

The presence of another should have potentially startled the paladin more than it seemingly did. Kneeling before the unknown, she was far too preoccupied to even acknowledge a sense of danger. “I would like to hope that it’s the cycle of life - an animal that did not quite win it’s battle against its predators. Honestly, though… I cannot be certain.” Her eyes gazed upward, attention heading towards the cloaked and hooded figure before her. A female voice was what she heard; a traveler, perhaps? 

“Dangerous or not, though, I was considering cleaning it up. Burying it, perhaps - even if it is an estranged creature, it can at least have some peace.”

           Such a strange sentiment and oddly touching at the same time. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d met someone with a heart so big that they felt even for a decaying corpse. No saintly priest in Stormwind would ever have deigned to sully their pristine hands with such a task, but here was this girl rattling such an idea as though it were the simplest thing in the world ------- as though it was her duty to give a carcass its last rites. 

                            She peered down at the mutilated body, trying her best not to let her disgust show. Even in all her years spent fighting the gruesome undead, it still turned her stomach to see rot this bad. Yet this girl’s composure was enough to inspire her to ignore the unease she felt at the memories that came creeping through the shadows, ready to ambush. Such an overt and obvious sign of death reminded her far too much of things better she’d been struggling with for the past few years to leave behind.

          Instead she tore her gaze away from the carcass and to the girl who was another object of interest. Tall and lithe like most elves, yet she’d been in the company of many of this girl’s kind for years to see the subtle differences in her features. Curiouser and Curiouser, she suspected that there was quite a story to tell with this one, and anyone who’d ever known her also knew that she, Jaina Proudmoore, loved stories.

                            “Then here’s hoping that whatever did that to this poor creature is far and away by now.” Still her hands suddenly felt empty without her staff. As a mage, she was never truly defenceless, but faced with the sudden possibility of battle, she wished she had something more than her own spells. 

          She pursed her lips as she considered her next course of action. Ahead was an inn and beyond that was a long road, but with no deadline to meet, she was in no hurry to reach her destination. Stopping for a few moments to help a kind stranger was no inconvenience, but the longer she lingered she risked the chance of being discovered. 

                            And yet against all logic, she couldn’t ignore her insatiable need to know. “I have time to spare, if you’d like a hand with burying the creature then I’d be more than happy to help.”

                                 i c h o s e you.                                  but the funny thing is —                                  so did d e a t h.

Grief is forever. It doesn’t go away. It becomes a part of you, step for step, breath for breath.

The Sky is Everywhere by Jandy Nelson  (via liikesunshine)

                   “Well… whatever you do, I don’t recommend killing anyone. No matter how annoying they may be. Dropping them into the ocean on the other hand…”

  ‘ i’m this close to charbroiling her ass, mom. no one insults the beanie. ‘

Anduin:

“That depends on what you’ve heard. He isn’t unbiased.” The humor aside, Anduin understands; his father worries and wants what’s best. Unfortunately, there are still times in which they disagree on what exactly that is, and Anduin, stubborn in his own way, isn’t quite so easily deterred as Varian might hope for. And he doesn’t mind that Aunt Jaina has her own opinions on it – not if it inspires the smile he’s missed, the laugh lines that reach her eyes. Anduin moves to embrace her, then, as he’s done countless times before, though the last time, he might have been at least a head shorter.

“If the mages see fit to invite me, I’m not sure that I could. Is there anything I can do?” But an offer is where he’ll leave it. Her methods have changed, and Anduin can’t say it isn’t disheartening, but he still trusts her – still believes she is capable, perhaps more than any of them, of navigating her own waters. Neither is Anduin keen to dredge those depths when, for all intents and purposes, her arrival isn’t about that at all. If the curve of his smile falters at all, he remembers it before long. “It will be lunch soon. Will you stay?”

               She returns his embrace just as fiercely, holding him like this only reinforces her surprise by his growth. No longer is he the boy she would have fond heart to heart talks with when the troubles of the world came bearing down on him. One day he’ll be king and if the forces of the universe were merciful then she would be there to watch him with pride. Her hope is that day will be a ways off, but she’s learned far too brutally the price that comes with letting even childish dreams take hold. Instead, she focuses on the present and what’s brought her to Stormwind – statecraft and stagecraft, both forever wheeling in the never-ending turmoil that’s embroiled Azeroth.  

                                    “Trust me when I tell you that your father’s told me plenty, but you know how he is when things don’t go his way.” She heaves an exaggerated sigh coupled with a slow shake of her head. While his offer is appreciated, the last thing she intends to do is to drag him into the world that both she and Varian are forced to occupy. Anduin has already taken far too many steps into it for her liking with that last debacle in Pandaria. That thought alone is enough to momentarily banish her smile until she remembers herself and manages one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Lunch would be wonderful! I haven’t eaten anything yet so I’m starving. In the meanwhile you can tell me all about whatever I’ve missed. Have you found anyone special in your life yet? Your father’s failed to mention that to me.”

@mcsmirky

               “Did you just fly?” It’s a rhetorical question since unless she’s hallucinating, she’s certain she’d just seen him streak through the air with a neon pink comet trail. Of all the powers she’s seen thus far, that one has to be the prettiest of them all.

Whew! I have some free time today so I shall be working on a few drafts here! Smooches everyone for putting up with me!

ty: well see now you have 2 victims and hope you're proud of yourself SexyBeard: well, i'm certainly proudmoore ty: hooooooooooooooooooooly shit ty: that was fucking perfect

@lumennox

               She stares at herself in the mirror, hands smoothing the front of her robes as she notes with dismay the dark circles under her eyes and the fatigue that lines her face. No longer is she the young sorceress who would venture beyond the borders of Dalaran with dreams and aspirations in her heart to see a wide and wonderful world. Time has cast her as an effigy carved from marble and all she sees in her reflection are cold, hard eyes and lips that seem permanently fixed into a frown.

                                      There’s no helping appearances now, she turns away from the mirror to reach for her staff. Her duties as Archmage has left little time for her to do little more than to dress before she’s swept away by matters that require her personal attention. Today, it is a missive that arrived on her desk that morning with alarming reports of increased magical activity within the site of Dalaran’s former location. That alone is reason enough to demand her personal attention and no one would dare question her if she happened to also have ulterior motives.

              Bright lights coalesce around her into a teleportation spell, her private study suddenly dropping away until she abruptly lands in the grassy fields near Lordamere Lake. The serene vista that surrounds her is marred by the gaping, black scar that bores into the ground, lined with remnant arcane energies that glow violet in the afternoon day. She frowns as she steps forward, staff held at the ready, magical senses reaching out for the reported anomalies.

                                      She senses it before she sees it, right there in the centre of the crater, a maelstrom of black energy at the very convergence of the ley lines that pulse through the world. A spell, almost like a portal, but to where ------ ? She glimpses black tides and a low hanging moon until a ripple through those dark waters shatters the image. From the epicentre a black hand bursts through the surface, fingers tapering into deadly talons. She takes a step back as a creature writhes through portal, body twisting at unnatural angles.

              Immediately, fire ignites between her fingers, until more movement from the portal grabs her attention. Another creature begins to struggle into the world, followed by another and another until dozens are crawling through, pouring from the portal like black ants made of slick oil scrabbling against the rocky surface of the crater.

When I am reading a book, whether wise or silly, it seems to me to be alive and talking to me.

Jonathan Swift (via wordsnquotes)