I LOVED how they finally touched up on how Genn was consumed by so much rage in Legion. He COMPLETELY forgot about Tess.

Let's be real, Tess would take Lorna as her queen. Bad ass wives deserve it!

Sender take a stab for reciever.

Tess and post shadowlands Sylvanas

thank you so much!! fic below the cut :D ngl i haven't written tess in a long time and i've never written post SL sylv before so pls be nice to me!

  She’s been struggling with her memories since the soul fusion.

  Some of the faces she guides out of the Maw are familiar, their names or their deaths hovering on the tip of her tongue, just out of reach; their consciousnesses brush hers, screaming wordless obscenities at her, stabbing her with cold, condemning anger as she sends them on their way. Not once does she flinch. Not once does she fight back. She keeps her eyes down, and her focus on her penance.

  One soul, brimming with youth and broken optimism, breaks ranks and rushes at her in a swirl of Thalassian tulips, a smiling mouth open and calling her name-

  But she flings them up before they can. Insults in Darnassian she takes in stoic silence. To hear herself condemned in her own tongue would… hurt.

  There are no days in the Maw, and Sylvanas rarely allows herself rest. She stumbles from one lost soul to another, worn down like a cog in the Azerite machines she can’t quite remember the blueprints for anymore (were there three levers or four? One goblin operator or two?) On occasion she cleans her leathers. When her boots go into holes, she hunts Maw-touched beasts to replace the soles.

  There are no hours in the Maw, no sunrises or sunsets, nothing familiar, nothing she can cling to. But no matter the circumstances, no Windrunner would be too tired or disorientated to recognise she was being followed.

  Followed by the living, no less.

  They’re good, she’ll give them that. Their footsteps are too soft even for her hearing. They cling to the shadows like a child to a blanket. But they are still human, and so she guides one more soul upwards, flinching at the psychic bellow of IHATEYOUIHATEYOUMURDERERBUTCHER it jabs her with as it’s pulled away.

  Then she turns to the rock beside her, and folds her arms.

  “Princess Greymane. An unexpected- surprise.” She has to pause to cough mid-sentence. She’s had no need for words since her sentence began; her throat feels dry and clogged. “What brings you- ahem- to the Maw?”

  “Oh, bollocks to it,” comes from behind the rock, and Tess Greymane emerges, brushing her own breeches off. “I should have known the Banshee Queen would sniff me out. What gave me away? Did I leave a footprint?”

  “To your credit, no. I did indeed sniff you out.” Sylvanas shifts her weight onto one leg. “You had roasted Gilnean boar for lunch, with a seasoning mixture from the Gilnean royal family’s cookbook. My spies were nothing if not thorough.” And, when Tess only blinks in response: “Though the recipe originated in Quel’Thalas. The Dawnstrider family. No. No, the Dawntreader- no- why are you here?”

  “Well, make your mind up!” Tess’ fists are clenched above the pommels of her daggers. “I want you to lead me to Liam. The Arbiter says he hasn’t passed through yet. He’s still down here somewhere and… well, I… you’re uniquely placed to…” She pauses. Her mouth works silently. “Erm, locate him,” she finishes, uncertainly.

  “… And who is Liam?”

  The screech that rips itself from Tess’ throat has Sylvanas stepping backwards sharply. “I beg your- how dare- what do you mean, who is Liam?” She lunges for Sylvanas, eyes wild. “My BROTHER! You MURDERED him!”

  “You must understand-” There are so many I killed here, how could I possibly know where one is, which one was he-

  “You fucking murdered my brother and you don’t even REMEMBER!” One flailing fist grabs Sylvanas by the collar; she jolts forwards with a grunt. “Let me enlighten you, you rotting bitch, you conquered my homeland and you slew my brother, yeah? Sound familiar?”

  “I-”

  “Don’t give me that shit! Nobody fucking forgets something like that! I don’t care if your fucking Scourge brains are turning to fucking liquid between those knife-ears, I want you to find Liam so he can be at peace, so that my family has justice, and so that my father will finally fucking accept he’s gone!”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Like me!”

  Of course. But long red hair in a ponytail, where hers is raven-black (like Minn’da’s). Steely faced- it was obviously his first battle. He was on horseback. A blade in one hand, a blade with gleaming runes, the dewdrops froze on her skin as he charged her down no he held a torch he was another human prince it impaled her and it stole the air from her lungs, it cut her so deep, cut her soul

  “-Windrunner! Fucking snap out of it!”

  She jerks back to reality as Tess Greymane slaps her in the face.

  “Ow,” she says, on nothing but instinct.

  And Tess- actually rolls her eyes, like a gossiping maid-servant. “Oh, come on. That didn’t hurt.”

  “No. No, it didn’t. Though if you want to tell everyone on Azeroth that you hurt me, I’m sure they would be delighted to know.”

  One hand still gripping her collar, Tess tilts her head, staring at Sylvanas. “You know,” she says, and wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, “I always thought of you as this malevolence. This wordless evil in the dark. A brooding, ruthless assassin who stole my brother away. And you’re just a-”

  “You’re not the first to call me a monster, and you won’t be the last.” Tess’ brows furrow. “For what it is worth,” Sylvanas continues, and gently untangles Tess’ fist from her shirt, “I had no quarrel with your brother, nor your country. Garrosh- whom I did have a quarrel with- he gave me the “choice” of staying together and risking my people’s annihilation in a hopeless, pointless war with Gilneas, or watching my people be carved up into regiments and thrown at the Alliance until none of us remained.” She shrugs. “Obviously, I chose the former. I cannot apologise for acting in my people’s interests.”

  “Well,” Tess snaps, “I won’t apologise for acting in my people’s interests.”

  And she slaps Sylvanas hard enough to send her stumbling backwards.

  There’s a pause, as Sylvanas silently prods at her teeth one by one with her tongue.

  “No ‘ow’ this time?”

  “My apologies. Ow.”

  “Huh.”

  The silence falls again.

  “I… fuck’s sake. I thought this would give me closure too. But I knew it was Garrosh. He admitted it all at the trial. I-” Tess’ shoulders slump. “He… he was really going to do that to the Forsaken? Deliberately send you to your deaths?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us or something? Pretend to invade? We could have-”

  “You would have slaughtered us on sight, like every other human nation.”

  Tess opens her mouth, the beginning of a protest on her lips-

  And promptly closes it. Sighs, heavily, and plops down on the rock beside her. “Yes,” she admits. “Yes. We would have.”

  “And Garrosh knew that too.”

  “Fuck him.”

  “That,” Sylvanas says, and prods her face to check for any blood, “we can agree on.”

  “Yes.”

  Finding nothing but dry, cold, lifeless skin, Sylvanas straightens herself up, hands folding behind her back. “If you are willing to help guide me to him, I am willing to find your brother. It may take some time. The Maw is a hostile environment to living creatures.” Even now, a presence is creeping nearer, and she readies herself for another psychic bombardment from a night elven soul. “Many adventurers died here in their attempts to stop Zovaal, and many condemned entities remain even after his demise. Entities that will slaughter anything living they come across.” Is that a soul? Do you need guidance?

  No, comes the guttural answer. Sylvanas stiffens.

  Tess stares at her, oblivious to the shadow materialising behind her. “But our reports said there was nothing-”

  “MAWSWORN!” Sylvanas shouts, and dives at Tess to throw her away from the dagger that lodges in her stomach instead.

  The Mawsworn rears back with a screech, dragging a second blade from its holster and Sylvanas yanks the dagger from her belly just in time to parry the killing blow with it. “He’s gone,” she cries. “Zovaal is gone!”

  “BETRAYER!” Their blades clash so hard it sets Sylvanas’ ears ringing. Her feet scrabble desperately for purchase in the dust. “THE WORLD MUST BE BROKEN!”

  “He,” she pants, feinting this way and that way for some sort of opening, “is-”

  There THERE her blade flashes in to puncture its heart just as Tess’ buries itself in its back and the Mawsworn screams in agony, flailing at her wailing at her and they jump back from its death throes.

  “Dead,” she finishes as it dissolves.

  The cloud dissipates to reveal Tess, one shirt sleeve bloodied, staring dumbly at her.

  “You… you saved me.” A hand comes up to point at Sylvanas’ belly. “You- you actually took a dagger for me. You did.”

  Sylvanas looks down at herself. At the black blood oozing lazily from the stab wound to her belly. The sluggish, half-forgotten ache of her cold body going through the motions of mending.

  She looks back up at Tess.

  “Oh, right,” she says. “Ow.”

Toss up Tuesday!

Step right up folx and roll the dice! Which Gin are you interacting with today!?

Will you get "normal" Gin - the woman just trying to Be™, existing with the Seed of the Void (Billiam) in her, and trying to live her best life?

Or maybe you get the Void Extra™ version of Gin, where the Seed is mostly - if not completely - in control of her actions and all Gin can do is scream silently in the back of her mind.

But wait! There are more options! Void Lite™ Gin is sharing control of the Vessel! Sometimes the Seed and Gin are both at the helm, what wacky scenarios will we come up with here!?

Or even still, you may run into 100% Gilnean human Gin, unaware of the Seed of the Void in her, and unafflicted by the Worgen curse.

Oh, fel. Let's throw one more option in why don't we? FORSAKEN GIN! Why? Because we can. Instead of falling to the Worgen curse, she fell to another curse as her people were trying to flee a crumbling country and now she serves the Banshee Queen. The Seed of the Void was released faster in this timeline, and Gin uses it to her advantage for the service of the Dark Lady.

Thank you for the answer on the use of queer. I didn't want to misuse the term. Hearthstone semi confirmed Tess may be queer. We stan our gilnean queen

.

Answers

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 30: Ceremony/Catastrophic

Leon really hadn't ever believed in this sort of thing. Having faith was a bit tricky after he'd lost at least as much as the average Gilnean, and spent so long actively avoiding facing himself or anybody else. He'd also thought of things like horoscopes and tarot readings as ...something on the order of a fun game, more than something genuinely mystical or meaningful. Entertaining, and sometimes startlingly on the nose, but little more than that. Of course, he wasn't about to make fun of anybody who believed in it, because that wasn't him; nobody ever gave him shit for not believing, so why would he do it the other way around?

"The card that represents what you shouldn't do is the Queen of Cups in reverse.  Upright she is confident and self-assured, so reversed is the opposite of that.  What this card is telling you is not to give in to insecurity."

"Tha's...encouragin'? I think." He smiled sheepishly and rubbed at the back of his neck. It was a simple start, a vague sort of sentiment that he could accept for just about anything he'd wanted to ask and it wouldn't have been too nonsensical. Still, it was something he both needed and wanted to hear, so he wasn't about to complain.

"Your second card, the one that signifies a challenge to you, is the Six of Wands in reverse.  What this card represents, when in reverse, is failure. It doesn't mean you will now, but somewhere down the line, you have suffered a setback and failed at this before, and now it's making you fear that is what is going to happen again. This card is urging you to overcome that fear."

By now, he'd had a few readings with a few different people, some he'd known well and some he'd barely known at all. Most of them had been...alarmingly appropriate, but... not like this one. Leon hadn't actually given Evie any indication of what his question was. He hadn't said it aloud, hadn't even vaguely explained it. It wasn't intentional; he wasn't trying to trick her or anything--he'd frankly just forgotten. He was nervous. Particularly because the second card was absolutely right: he was thinking about something big, something that'd blown up in his face before, and that he wanted to try again but was petrified would end in catastrophic failure.

He caught himself leaning closer to see the cards as she drew them. It was easy to get caught up in the ceremony of it all when it was this on the nose. When she first set down the last card, he was filled with dread, historically terrible at figuring out which cards were which, and defaulting to 'not good' most of the time.

"Your last card is The World. This card's keywords are completion, achievement, fulfillment, sense of belonging, wholeness, and harmony. So essentially, if what you are debating on makes you happy and leaves you with a sense of belonging, you should absolutely do it."

The explanation saw him sag in his chair, and after a moment, he brought a hand up to slide across his mouth. The absolute idiot grin that popped up in answer to that encouragement was almost painful, and he was trying to wipe it off since he just couldn't stop doing it.

Despite that, a nearly inaudible "Oh, yay" snuck its way out of him.

Evie grinned. "To be honest, these are the readings I just kinda live for."

"If it turns out t' be right? Yer gettin' me all t' yerself fer a night." Leon paused, then laughed softly. "Or. Y'know. Whatever else y' damn well want, cuz I'll damn well owe y'."

She just laughed and winked at him.

"Either way," he said with that smile still stubbornly on his face, "Thank you. I needed this t'day." With that, he set 20 gold between them, and when he left her booth, he managed not to click his heels like a doofus.

He'd have plenty of opportunities for doofus-y heel-clicking once he'd found a ring.

( @daily-writing-challenge @evietinderblossom​ )

thinking about how Tess and Lorna have been making out for 10 years and how she was gayzing at Valeera in legion & the greater fandom saw in that one book that Genn told Anduin he should make babies with her and ran off with that

the gilnean people when genn keeps trying to make his gay daughter the queen of stormwind effectively ensuring a messy succession crisis if he, an 80 year old werewolf who keeps trying to 1v1 sylvanas, dies

Little wolf, little wolf come to me.”

“Not today, my king.”

“You disobey me?”

“Indeed. And the world is still in one piece.”

“Soon...”

“Soon is a lifetime away… in your weakness, I thrive.”

“The owl --”

“-- has fled.”

“The ravens -- “

“ -- do not fear you.”

“The wolves..”

“-- hunt.”

“And you? I made you. I saved you. I will come for you - Bishop will bring you to me."

“I? I wait. I wait where you cannot touch me. Your monsters have been culled and your servants hunted to extinction. One by one Sarvan destroys your breathing cult. You will have to start again, my king. Not even Bishop hears you now..”

“In your weakness, I thrive.”

“We are not one!”

“We are all, one.”

We are all one. She was not alone in her bed, three little bodies burrowed into the blankets. A foot exposed here, a tangle of curls there tattled where they were located upon the large bed. She liked them there, she liked it when they crept like mice to join her in the wee hours of the morning so that they could wake up together. Saltwood wasn't home for them, it was a newer place that had seen only sadness and she knew she should bring the children here more often but she felt more alone without Araian's light here than any other place they had to their name. Duty was here, their people settled and safe. Duskwood's keep had been returned to the ground, the druids feeding the ruins to the cursed land until nothing was left but shallow reminders that there had once been a people there to protect. Dalaran was home, she supposed. The well-guarded apartments had been painted with laughter and love so strongly that not even magic would wipe away the echoes of life there. Lyric's domain, a safe haven for the children of the fallen Knights and lost souls, forever wards of the Sunshields as was right. Lyric had her own children to raise, her lover had left when the children were too small to remember even knowing what a father was. Stormwind? Stormwind was a duty, nothing more. Her thoughts spiraled as she moved to a sit, the echoes of her dream fading as she freed herself to think in the quiet of the morning. Heavy ringlets were loose and tangled about her shoulders, draping down her back to puddle at where her nightgown gathered at her thighs. Whose duty? She was Gilnean, her Queen and King both worked to survive within the Alliance - she should be at her Queen's side, she should be aiding in whatever was needed. But Sunshield? Sunshield was not Gilnean, Sunshield's origins did not include her but were gifted to her hands to protect for as long as the Sunshield name was hers. A gifted legacy. Careful not to bother sleeping children she tangled her arms before her chest and let her stare roam the room and then further to the doorway that led to the girl's s room, a nursery converted from a handmaiden's chamber. Alisena. They were bound by blood and shadows, sisters in creation, and forever linked in a way that did not allow for freedom. Not that freedom was sought but Alisena had found something more precious - love. Her handmaiden position had been stolen from her, ripped away by Lord Marec as if that would keep the women apart. As if that would stay their bond - hardly. Not even a dent and soon Alisena would be at her side once more and there was a sense of relief that drifted its fingers down her back.

Final Shadowlands Prediction

With Shadowlands dropping on Monday here are my final predictions for what I am expecting to come from Shadowlands!  This is just fun speculation for fun, but here are mine:

1) Anduin is going to come out of Shadowlands old, as we see in the Legion comic that came out. The Jailer will somehow age Anduin with his magic, stealing his lifeforce or something.

2) We will see Arthas again as part of a closure plot for Jaina. In that same vein I think Jaina will die in Shadowlands. She got closure with the Horde, she got closure with the stuff regarding her father, she fixed her relationship with her mother, all that is left is Arthas. She will get closure with Arthas and at some point die in Shadowlands.

3) Tyrande will die somehow, probably stopping the Jailer and Sylvanas.

4) We now know that the Arbiter can create new Death realms for unique cases with souls, which Blizzard says we will see… Well, you know what that means? Sylvanas’s soul definitely got split when Arthas killed her. The “good” part of her soul went to the Shadowlands (maybe taken by the Jailer and put in the Maw to use as a bargaining chip?) while the “bad” part of her soul is what became the current Sylvanas. We will end up killing the bad one or defeating her and her two soul pieces will merge and the Arbiter will create a special realm for Sylvanas. (I am thinking something with an updated Silvermoon, I’ll come back to this.)

5) At some point in a later patch we will get a quest to return to the Maw to meet a new soul who is a familiar face… Surprise! It is Genn Greymane, he will tell us Turalyon killed him. (this is setting up the Tyranny of Light plot for the expansion after Shadowlands where Turlayon is corrupted) Since Genn is dead and in the Shadowlands he will get closure with his son Liam as they will meet somehow.

6) Bolvar will become the new Jailer, and with the Helm of Domination reforged and used to close the veil to the Shadowlands Taelia Fordragon will become the first official Lich Queen to follow in her father’s footsteps and stay connected to him in the Shadowlands.

So yeah those are my predictions. Alliance will lose 3 leaders to appease the Horde players who have wanted that to be fair, while setting up Turalyon as a villain. Sylvanas will end up in her own afterlife. Bolvar is the new Jailer, and Taelia is the new Lich Queen.

This may be in the expansion AFTER Shadowlands, but: 

Also, currently Turalyon has comments in-game about wanting to capture old Alliance bastions… this makes me think Lordaeron, Gilneas, etc. So I am thinking he will move to Lordaeron and reclaim it especially with the new Scarlet presence we see there as of 8.3, you can find their pamphlets and books laying around… And with Genn Greymane dead, I think this will light a fire in Tess Greymane and she will rally the Gilneans, Lorna Crowley, and Darius Crowley and they will reclaim Gilneas and use it as a base of operations to take on Turalyon in Lordaeron, making Gilneas the Alliance hub.

Remember how I mentioned the updated Silvermoon in Sylvanas’ afterlife? Well I think that is the beginning of Blizzard actually updating Silvermoon on Azeroth. With Turaylon taking Lordaeron and what not, who is also a Light wielder? Lady Liadrin. I could see her either becoming corrupted or taking up the fight against Turalyon to stop his “misuse of the Light”, either way I could see this making Silvermoon updated to be the Horde hub for the following expansion, so after all these years we finally see it updated and brought to the current Azeroth map.

Greymane’s Garters

I made up a fake history because ‘Greymane’s Garters’ is so fun to say and imagine. Enjoy!

The Order of the Grey Garter, more popularly known as "Greymane's Garters", has origins comingled in Human myth and legend. It is now considered somewhat ridiculous, as it instantly conjures a mental image of the noble King Greymane of Gilneas, him covered head to toe in white fur as he is in Worgen form, but for some reason wearing a pink-and-gray frilly woman's garter strapped to his leg.

Image: from ebay (only 1 left!)

This, I assure you, Greymane's Garters are not! They are hardly a male Worgen lingerie trend, but an order of noble knights and also so much more. Firstly, female Worgen find themselves members of this ancient order as well. Secondly, the garter is only a symbol--today it is often worn around the arm at ceremony or as a badge, a flat pink-and-gray belt coiled in a hoop and showing its buckle, that it was once considered part of suit of armor to help keep plate buckled over the legs. Only attend a Greymane's Garters initiation and see for yourself and you can be assured of this. The members proudly wear very little but their fur, to show they have at least embraced their Worgen side (this is a subject of contention even within this royal order, but they at least agree fur is alright). So the wearing of yes, admittedly, skimpy clothing to show off fur and the traditional garter around the leg is a thing. But if it is not buckled around the leg, then it goes proudly on the arm above the bicep, or on a cape--it may look strange indeed to the unschooled, but it is an honorable form of dress. Greymane’s Garters are not 'furries in SM gear' whatever the modern youth mean by that. A Greymane's Garter would maw you and strap you to a pole or a bedframe or some other handy torture device if they ever heard you calling their order a low-key furry headcanon, never that.

Military History

The order was first formed in the Second War. Under pressure to conform to the standards and military norms of the Alliance of Lordaeron, Gilnean leadership made a pledge that they would stay a distinct force as far as they could, focused solely on the political advantage of their own kingdom. As such, they felt a need to distinguish their military leaders on the battlefield with a brand that could not be overtaken by the blue and gold Alliance regalia. Their other goal was to remind their soldiers that their home kingdom, Gilneas, should always be the priority. Of course, this manifested itself in only a token support force sent to aid the Alliance at that time, all of them good-looking men in excellent polished plate, saying things like 'What ho!' and also 'Get gabbin' or get goin!' which were practiced phrases to deflect accountability. They made it subtly clear that they were only interested in doing those tasks for the Alliance that would further Gilnean interests. And they defiantly wore their pink, gray and white garters high up their thighs. The grey garter became an emblem of their stalwart resistance to Alliance assimilation. The effort was a great success from the Gilnean perspective. Not long after the first Greymane's Garters arrived in Lordaeron, the Alliance despaired at them, actually, and didn't prod the Gilnean King for any more his "help". And then the Greymane’s Garters went back home after the conflict and eventually the Gilnean wall went up too, which certain Alliance leaders were pretty relieved for, even if they couldn’t say it. The wall also had the effect of ‘keeping it over on their side’.

Mythical Origins

The more mythical origins of the Greymane’s Garters involve a magical Grey Lady who walked out of the Emerald Dream one evening in the forests of Gilneas, accompanied by gray feydragons. Everything she touched turned into a gray mist. A knight set out to slay her, believing she was a witch, but instead, she mesmerized him and inspired him to gather his fellow knights to return to her and perform a great task that would, she said 'Make little sense now, but will mean everything to saving your kin' in the far future. They Great Grey Knight then returned to the mists as the Grey Lady bade him, with three axemen, five lancers, and twenty-six cavalry men. And then, standing in a circle, she gave them all the garters of their order to wear, attaching them to their legs and buckling each to cinch proud and tight. And then she showed them a traditional dance. It was the gray dance of death that much empahsized squats and lunges with the legs, later used to train King Greymane's personal guard for ages, who one day kept him alive during the conflict with Sylvanas.

Competing accounts say the first Greymane’s Garters never learned a fighting technique, but they did serve her special gray ritual wine made from special silver grapes. And she made them grill her delicious capon and venison for supper. In exchange for that, what she taught the knights was how to create a 'Grey Garter', a special kind of powdered sugar dough dessert that is made in loops of pastry. This sparkling gray dough dessert was passed down in the Gilnean court and would still be cooked today if not for the disruption, again, of Sylvanas laying waste to Gilneas.

Modern Findings

Today, historians cannot find any real evidence connecting the myth of the Grey Lady to the military dance of Greymane's personal guard. (If it can even be considered a dance.) Nor can they say with confidence that a legend of that era really would be an elaborate way to convey a few cooking recipes involving gray food. Most recent research makes a more practical suggestion as to the actual events concerning the Grey Lady. That is, the knights soon discovered the Grey Lady was in fact a witch, or at least a very strange woman with the skill of a pressure salesman and a lot of mist handy where she happened to live in the forest. She clearly had a thing for knights wearing garters so halfway through their weird dinner-date, the men who weren't drunk and drugged off their feet got together and slayed her. They vowed, there and then, to come up with a better story for what happened and be 'reborn in blood'. From there on, the 'grey garter' story became a joke among the Gilnean nobility descended from these surviving knights, and when an opportunity eventually came up during the Second War to give the Alliance of Lordaeron the proverbial middle finger for making them provide aid against the Orcs, the Gilnean nobility reached back for the 'grey garters' story, layered some more meaning in it, and then made it a part official military dress. As an in-joke among the Gilnean crusty uppercrust. The rest, as they say, is history.

Motto

The motto "reborn from blood" has passed into common parlance of course, though many Gilneans may not even realize it. One often meets a Gilnean or a Worgen who, thinking of the turmoil their people have endured, make the remark that Gilneas will be reborn from the blood of their enemies. This derives from none other than the Greymane’s Garters.

Source: wish.com

The Ribbon

As you can see, the ribbon itself has changed over time. First, in the era of the Grey Lady myth, it was a very tribal-looking chevron in white, pink and gray colors. Later, it was a bold pink-and-gray plaid. Even later, due to lack of resources and the loss of the kingdom to Sylvanas' forces, it was mainly the sort of spider's silk, large swaths of pink ribbon were easier to come by in Darnassus where most Gilnean refugees settled.

The pink color of the Darnassian iteration (also referred to as the Gilnean diaspora, so show some respect) isn't "girly" as some consider it. First of all, pink is a color, it doesn't “belong” to anyone. Second of all, the whole thing was going to be abandoned when the order was re-formed after the fall of Gilneas recently, but many of the prouder Worgen members insisted it was also the color of roses, or raw meat or flesh, which connects back to that side of the Gilnean experience. Gray connects back with Greymane and white is the color of a new moon, of hope, of Greymane's own fur hide. So they keep all the colors, pink, gray and white, intermingled whether in the traditional plaid pattern or the primal, very bold chevron that can be easily seen strapped to a Gilnean's leg across the battlefield. Or, yes. In frilly Darnassian pink if that's what's available.

Notable Members of Greymane's Garters

King Archibald Greymane

King Genn Greymane (current sovereign)

Princess Tess Greymane

Queen Mia Greymane

Lord Darius Crowley

Lorna Crowley

Lord Vincent Godfrey (posthumously stripped of rank due to treason)

Speculation

It is rumored that King Anduin Wrynn has been offered a place in the Greymane’s Garters (with a special exception made for his devotion to Stormwind of course). However, Greymane is most likely still awaiting confirmation that Anduin will accept. Undoubtedly he will, of course! Anduin’s biggest reservation is said to be ‘Wait, aren’t those guys a furry group that wears underwear on the outside? This is for real?’ Though SI: 7 refuses to comment on whether the the young king actually said this. It may be that Genn is waiting for Anduin to mature some more before offering Greymane’s Garter again. Or, it may be that other rumors are true, that Anduin is prepared to make his own royal order of garter-wearing knights if he has to, to get out of wearing fancy underwear given to him by Greymane.

Because, of course, two garters on both of Anduin’s legs, ontop of his armor? One leg pink and the other blue? That would look completely ridiculous and anyone would obviously agree.

Unless you are a proud member of Greymane’s Garters that is!!

-fin-

so, what do you think general stormwind fashion would look like?

 i know we see ingame models of like. outfits. but a lot of them make no sense and couldn’t really even be Put On and the silhouette on Everything is exactly the same between different countries and different kingdoms which....doesn’t make sense and generally isnt how fashion works, especially considering different climates and cultures exist between the human kingdoms. the only kingdoms that show individuality in their fashion are Gilneas and Kul’tiras with Gilneas being party city victorian with no bustles, hoops, or petticoats, and kul’tiras actually having a life of its own, wearing clothing that touches back to their seafaring ways while also playing with party city victorian in places where it fits to harken back to their gilnean roots, which is neat.

 stormwind has temperate conditions as far as their weather goes, this is discussed (briefly) in the no longer canon rpg book, but we can extrapolate by the fact that they have apple trees growing and fruiting within the city that the temperature rarely goes above 90f

the architecture of stormwind is a mix of oversaturated tudor buildings and high fantasy castles and towers which is super fun and sorta fits together in an extremely weird way.

there’s no cohesive fashion however and people just sorta wear whatever. lots of plunging necklines for women and men alike. within the no longer canon rpg book its mentioned that they tend to wear a lot of layers of light fabrics and long sleeves are common. do you think that their clothing style would be more in line with tudor // elizabethan styles that match their architecture? or more 18th century like we see on some of the alpha commoner models in game?

then we see taria wrynn in the film wearing

whatever she’s wearing. this is the fashion of the queen though. do you think stormwind has sumptuary laws? there’s nothing about it in canon but in seeing the commoners attire you would....think that there are. or you’d simply think that the running track record of the crown not paying for services incurred is creating a nightmare hellscape so either way your average person isnt going to be able to afford to dress like taria wrynn.

these are more concept art from the film which shows that there are likely not any structured undergarments which is...pretty neat.

though that being said, what taria is wearing would now likely be considered Very Old and out of date. since her time stormwind has been completely rebuilt and it not only no longer looks as it used to, but things have likely changed in the style of clothing as well.

tl;dr what the fuck do people in the kingdom of stormwind wear? i want to draw one of my ocs in some cute clothing layer by layer but since there is no continuity in costuming i literally Do Not Know What To Put Her In.

I would like you guys to know I am in the process of rewriting my original fanfic regarding Lorna Crowley/Tess Greymane! You can read the rewrite here! You can also read my original! I am trying to incorporate a bit of Canon lore with it. As well as my own Horde and Alliance OC's. I might have Shadowlands Sylvanas in my rewrite instead of the banshee queen. I really loved her arc in Shadowlands, and I would like to explore it more!

During the Remembrance of Undercity, we had a segment titled The Ceremony of Embers and Spirit in which Forsaken (and allies) were welcome to toss that which they want left behind to burn in a symbolic fire and help them move forward in their unlife or life. Anything from mementos from long past, banners or tabards or anything that they feel no longer belongs with them and no longer represents them. All were allowed to do this, but focus was put on Forsaken first. We had all who wanted their items showcased fill out a doc so we can share and forever view these small, but impactful, character moments. Down below is everyone who chose to have their moment showcased and what their feelings are that went with it as well as the item itself.

Due to the length of this post, please hit the Read More to view all items that have been tossed into the flames.

Caleb Mcswain Item: A blue star moss boutonnière. This item represented resentment, hatred for Caleb's undeath, and fear of the Horde. Shandras Korpus Item: A stuffed animal "...I can't possibly atone for the murderous rage my Dark Lady once inspired, but I can surely commit to do better." Silffred Queen Item: A patched and beaded Undercity tabard. Silffred leaves his spot, a ratty, patched tabard of the Undercity draped in his hands. He tries to steel himself, and fails. From the crowd, a death knight comes to his side; a -Night Elf- death knight. She whispers something to him and, together, they drop the tabard onto the smoldering bonfire. The Knight puts her hand on his shoulder, and Silffred raises his head to address the crowd. "I cast off my tabard for the final time, and with it... The piece of me that could end up no where else... But the flames." Jarisold Acridwell Item: Wedding ring Jarisold steps up quietly and pulls out a ring. He looks at it with a solemn expression, signing slowly with his free hand. "I have little to say here except I'm sorry. I wish I could have protected you." He grips it one last time, looking over it as he casts it into the fire. Nicolai Wyther Item: A Leatherbound notebook full of old alchemical research. Nicolai looked down at his old leatherbound book. Inside were a mix of notes, research and alchemical studies he had done many years ago for the Forsaken cause. Some were helpful, but many used for harming those who dared to mess with the Forsaken. "I was naive. I didn't know any better." he muttered under his breath as his veil covered his sorrowful face. "Years of my life were written down in this book I used to be proud of it...but when I see this book on my mantle, I don't think of the time I spent with my old Order or the happy memories." his voice trembled. "I only see regret. Anguish!" He opened the book to take out a dried out Arthas Tear, holding it between his skeletal fingers "And I must...move on." As he tossed the book into the fire. Donovan Morris Wightborn Item: A Forsaken insignia of excellence and a medallion with a red soulstone in it. Donovan pulls up a faded insignia from his bags. "Today, I burn two pages of history from my present so they may join the ashes of the past. First, an insignia of excellence given to me by the Dark Lady during the Gilneas campaign. With this, I burn what little respect I had for the Banshee... Along with a deep resentment for the people of Gilneas." He drops his insignia into the flames "And then..." he grasps at a silver necklace with a cracked red gem around his neck and pulls, snapping the chain as he removes it. He stares at it for a moment, in his hand, and holds it up "A soulstone medallion which was once used to twist my soul into undeath, and that I then used to imprison and punish the necromanceress responsible. With this, I let go of an old bitterness and drive: Vengeance. I slew her and her soul is long gone. No need for this to remain and remind me of her. I am Forsaken, driven by the glory and growth of our people, not unfocused hatred of an old witch." with that, he tosses it into the fire and watches it burn. He thought 'Donovan Morris died for Lordaeron. Donovan Wightborn claimed vengeance for him. Now we both live, in this glorious dark rebirth, as Forsaken.' Nettie Ka'an Item: Insignia of a Forsaken soldier Nettie steps foward and takes out a small, shiny object. "This insignia represents my time as a soldier on the Gilnean-Forsaken front. I had just been raised, and unlike many of you, felt little loyalty to the Banshee Queen."She pauses. "I joined to try to preserve my home, Gilneas, despite the Forsaken's onslaught. Since then, I have met and bonded with more Forsaken than I had thought I ever would. This insignia is a reminder of a past era, of distrust towards my own people." She continues. "We have all lost our homes, in one or way another. It is time to move forward." She gently drops the insignia into the fire, where it glows, and rejoins the circle. Geniya Zigzy Item: Old Undercity military ID card Geniya tosses the card into the fire, and it quickly flares up and away. "I used this only once since the fall of Undercity, as a way to pass myself off as the officer in Sylvanas' forces that I once was, for the purpose of sneaking some dissenters to safety. We are now ALL safe. We are free to be whoever we are, with no one watching over us from above. I will never need to use this card again." Benemus Crungey Item: Wedding Ring & Silver Dagger Benemus steps up, twisting a tarnished ring off of his finger and dropping it into the fire. "The last trappings of when I was alive," He said simply. "Attachment to someone who has spoken of her hatred for what I have become. I do not need this reminder that only makes me upset." Then he removes a dagger from his pack, and drops it in as well. "Be well on your journey into the shadows." Édouard Chaudron Item: Old Academy Frying Pan Anger at his Father who didn't support his culinary pursuits nor his soup kitchen for the poor of Lordaeron. His father would be the ghoul that sent him to his unlife, something which he clung to in anger prior to this event. Tossing it was to help let go of his difficult feelings in regards to his relationship with his father and to move past the guilt, doubt and other painful emotions that had him second-guessing his chosen path in life + unlife. Canthar Item: Remains preserved in jars. "I no longer have need for these. That competitive abomination assembly were a thing is disgusting. That I got caught up in it... Regardless. Dead should only be raised willing. These morbid cadavers no longer fascinate me..." Hylden Caspian Levanthorpe Item: An amethyst sphere (a speakstone) Hylden holds in his hand a stone. A beautiful amethyst sphere. Staring down at the thing, the storm of emotions that brewed on his features, in his eyes spoke to something deeper than he could express in words. He closed his fingers around it, and took a breath, staring down at the flames. “This was a gift, from a man I loved more than anythin’. Anythin’ I ever could have described, anythin’ I thought I could have felt. In that awful darkness, he called me a sweet thing. A mouse. That man would have had us believe that he was a snake. A serpent. Clever and connivin’. ...but snakes kill their prey quickly. No.” His eyes flicked upward, burning brightly, focusing directly on the man. “That man was a glue trap. Unfortunately for him, this mouse didn’t stay stuck. His grip was far too weak.” He glanced back down to the fire, opening his hand and staring back into the depths of that sphere, glowing with a life all its own. As his eyes turned from the fire, he lifted his hand and tilted it to the side, letting it roll from his palm as he said, “Goodbye. I’ll always love you. Though I’ll never know if it was my choice or not, will I?”

Vynaendra Highwood Blood Elf Item: Insignia of Sylvanas Vyn feels anger seeing the image of her face. Anger and disgust and sadness. Bagorpagork Mok’nathal A very old tome containing warlock spells and rituals Gork was clutching onto an old tattered book. A black cover with fel green demonic lettering and symbols. He held it out, giving it one last look before tossing it into the flames. "As time passes, sometimes you learn that the things that made you strong, the things that help you win, come at a price. The Alliance may have essentially lost that day. But it cost a great price for the Forsaken. I think uh, Mr Eralos put it quite really... I have begun to question my own power, the price I may someday come to pay. I have decided I do not need this power anymore. It is time to move on" he ended with a small smile. Lembri Vulpiana Shal’dorei Item: Menagerie Insignia Lembri removes an insignia from her satchel, bearing the mark of Suramar's Royal Menagerie. It's been battered with age, and no longer shines like the rest of the silver that adorns her. "I used to be afraid... I thought that I had to help protect the creatures of the outside from their own h-home... I'll never be able to forgive myself fully for the animals still trapped in that sick circus but... T-This is the start of redemption." The nightborne tosses the medal into the fire, feeling great relief as it disappears amongst the flames. Sorrel Silverblade Kaldorei Item: A rosary; an innumerable amount of red strings Sorrel approaches the fire, holding a rosary befitting a priest or priestess of the Church of the Holy Light. Its beads are made of dark, worn wood and yellowed ivory, the strand of silk they're strung on yellowed and brittle. At the end is a truesilver holy symbol, tarnished with age. He opens his other hand, filled with tiny red strands of string, curled and folded as if they'd been tied into position for a long time. He clears his throat a bit. "...you deserved better. A better life. A better son. I killed in your name, as if death or life were a game I could succeed in." He lowers his eyes and ears, gritting his teeth. "...I know better now. Life and death mean much more to me, in each of their forms. To the Light I pray you find solace." He lets the rosary fall into the fire. Sorrel stares intently into the flame. "To the Shadows I pray that they may guide my hand so that I may serve my fellows honourably. To learn from the mistakes of my youth." He lets the red strands fall. "To move past my sins." With that, he returns to his friends. Geniya, on behalf of Gornagh Starcrusher Undead Orc Item: Ebon Blade Warbanner Gornagh gave Geniya the banner to toss into the flames as a way of finally severing himself from the Ebon Blade, an organization he left very abruptly after realizing that his morals no longer aligned with theirs. He wishes to feel free of reminders that make him angry, for a group that he believes is no longer worth his energy to think on. Kuyr Driftwood Tauren Death Knight Item: Decaying old Saronite gauntlet Said: "Watching time pass me by...I should let go of this and work on my bonds. What it will bring with my new tribe. I don't know. But it's better then being alone." Thought's: *The pain and suffering is still unbearable. I can't break free fully. Maybe this will help me fight more to be myself. But I still wish at times just...release.* Litharial Solstar Sin’dorei Item: A single, grey arrow with raven fletching. Approached the bonfire that blazed with the ashes and memories of those that fed it before her. She drew a single, grey arrow with raven fletching, so unlike her golden ones. Examining the arrow a moment, she spoke quietly, "This belonged to my sister, Asarial. We fought together at the battle for Lordaeron when the Alliance broke through the gate, she told me to go first to make sure the wounded were well cared for. Her selflessness cost her her life. And it nearly broke me. Fast forward to the relevancy of this story, I found myself before the city of Ogrimmar, ready to liberate the city. However, it became apparent that loyalists were sabotaging the weaponry." Takes a moment to sniffle, a lone tear falling down her cheek. "It was then that I found the thing of my nightmares. My sister, who was raised as a Dark Ranger to serve the Banshee Queen. It was my duty to defend Saurfang's army and I did so, quickly slaying the two other Dark Rangers with her, and after a terrible duel...her." Her eyes grew ever luminescent as they reflected the warm light of the bonfire. "She lost..." Looking at the arrow once again, she turned it over in her hands, "I understand this ceremony is to honor our Forsaken brothers and sisters. But I can never truly hate the Dark Rangers, for what became of them. I cannot even hate Sylvanas, for she will always be remembered as a hero to Silvermoon for her sacrifice. So it is my hope, that the Dark Rangers and Sylvanaas find their way into this pyre. My sister, at least, shall find hers." Litharial placed the arrow gently, almost reverently, in the consuming fire. The flashed quickly licked the arrow, turning a dark purple where the arrow touched the flames, before blazing a righteous orange again. "Al diel shala, Asarial. Elor bindel felallan morin'aminor, Belore'dorei. Shorel'aran, sister." Dragway Orc Item: An old royal crest banner of the Rally family, it's dark blue banner with a falcon holding a mason hammer and pickaxe in its talons Dragway said this about the banner "This was the crest of Baron Danton Rally, who was a warden to many internment camps for the orcs, I spent my childhood as a slave under him, he was slain when Thrall came to liberate us. I toss my grieve for the child who was living in dirt and mud, and give hope to the adult still standing here. May the orcs...no...no other races, never be put into chains ever again!” Gotosh, on behalf of Katamar Orc Item: A red hair ribbon Gotosh clutched the red hair ribbon in his palm, looking down to it. He thought of what it meant to his friend, a connection to people who are long gone and their souls lost. Part of him didn’t want to toss it into the fire, feeling the weight it carried. But he promised to do this and with one toss the ribbon joined the other items to be burned away. May they rest, he thinks, may he rest too.

Breakpoint

Breakpoint

A rough, coarse gnawing echoed in the warriors immediate vicinity as his blade dragged on behind him, cutting a line through damp Darkshore sand. The site was nothing short of the horror stories his siblings and less than scrupulous uncles would cite to him as he grew up in the generous bounds of his parents’ estate. Elven, Gilnean & Horde blood flowed from the glossy shores and into the sea as if it were a river of twisted, congealed hatred seeping into the world and corrupting it with every drop. The sky was blackened, or it felt that way, at least. As if he’d walked in on the closing moments to the end of existence itself, despite the odd cheer from Forsaken soldiers a few hundred yards away, there was only void. 

Therus stood on the precipice of his greatest victory yet. This was all he’d ever wanted since that fateful day the Gilnean’s abandoned him to his devices during their battle in Silverpine. He wanted their heads, he wanted his twisted version of justice which wasn’t really justice at all. Years had passed since, and he’d collected enough Worgen teeth to decorate dozens of necklaces with, but this was different. 

He kicked at the blood-spattered sand beneath his plated boot, sending some of the soggy mush flying into the unnervingly calm waters. Where he should’ve felt pride, he felt hollow as if something had eaten away at his chest. Eventually he planted his blade firmly into the ground and dropped onto his behind, staring upwards in complete silence. Images flashed through his mind, their initial march, how everything had led to this moment all for it to come crashing down for him in the final act. His head raised, neck brutishly twisting to observe the aftermath of the carnage.

The bodies strewn across the shore no longer filled him with that sick sense of satisfaction he used to gain from every encounter with the enemy, instead all he saw was a mirror. A reflection of what had happened to his family as they fled Arathi all those years before. A low growl emanated from his person, gaining volume as seconds passed until eventually a guttural scream eviscerated the surrounding air. Doubt began to flood as if that dam he’d been building for years had all but shattered in that very instant. It wasn’t meant to be like this, it was meant to be glorious. 

A few ragtag soldiers here and there looked on from the sidelines as they marched towards their staging area but they were paid absolutely no mind. The passage of time enveloped the unraveling Forsaken, creating a cocoon that eliminated the very idea of where his own human psyche ended and the vengeful corpses’ began, because that’s all he was, in the end.

Soon enough the war machines began to muster once more as the Warchief’s army picked up its pace. The last few screams had a finality to them which snapped him back to reality. The Horde’s, and more importantly the Forsakens victory was complete. He used his arms to push himself up off from the watery sand, though it was a struggle that seemed almost herculean in its nature. Eventually he’d made it back onto his feet, flickering a troubled gaze towards where the Horde forces began to muster, gathering up on the very edge of the shore not a couple hundred meters north.

From the way the catapults and other various war machines were positioned he knew within his blackened heart what was about to happen. Not even making an attempt to regroup at the muster point he simply turned his gaze back to the littered bodies mostly consisting of Night Elves and Worgen. It was the first time in a long time he’d felt this powerless, although that initial mental snap was over, all he could hear were the buried screams of his own family as they fell one by one to Forsaken blades. Even thinking about their faces was something he’d practically lash himself for, and now they swarmed him en-masse. 

It wasn’t long now before the great tree in the distance would begin to emanate orange speckles. From his spot on the distant shore it almost seemed harmless, but he wasn’t naive enough to believe that. Each one of those flashes likely claimed dozens of lives if not more. Those fires grew and grew, it took surprisingly little time for the Horde siege engines to bombard Teldrassil to the point where the roaring flames could almost be felt shoreside. That once-black sky now burned with a strong blood-orange hue.

In truth, Therus had no idea how many Elven lives the great tree held among its branches. A thousand? A hundred thousand? All he knew is that this was the seat of their civilization, and that there might not even be any Night Elves left after this. What had he taken part in? Was this really what it was to be Forsaken? To be of the Horde? 

The bulk of the forces lay to the North, though unlike previous victories, there were no ‘Lok-tar’s’ to be found this eve, just an ever creeping silence as the flames bellowed in the distance, consuming the world tree and destroying countless lives in the process. After he took his first few steps forwards, he stopped, a moment of clarity hitting him like the kick of a Kun-lai mule. South, south is where he would go. Away from this horror, away from these wretched terrible deeds he’d committed to live out the rest of his undeath in exile. His boots shifted in the sands beneath him as he began to drag himself far as he could from the Banshee Queen's machinations.

WoW: Return of the Queen by carrinth

Blizz: Okay, so how should we reintroduce Genn's wife, Gilneas' queen-- Me: *kicks down door* Queen Mia riding into battle astride her worgen husband with upgraded blunderbuss in hand!!! Blizz: Security!! Me: NO! LISTEN! WORGEN. RIDING. WORGEN RIDING!!! *gets dragged away*

(Hahaahahaa! And you thought I wouldn’t draw it as I said in my very non-bias ppt slides concerning Queen Mia...)

Poppa

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 11: Moonlight/Watch

"C'mon, Toffee, I know you're hungry. You're always hungry. Look, I even took out the cores already, see?"

The moose, as he'd been doing for the last two days, didn't respond to the boy's whining. Lucien had been briefly hopeful when he saw Toffee's ear flick, but he figured out pretty quick that that was just because a fly had landed on it.

Okay, what would Terry do? ...Probably not have any trouble, since Toffee was only doing this because Terry wasn't here. That isn't the most helpful answer in the world, though, so... if I were Terry...

"Um. Hey," the skinny, barely-into-his-teens boy did his best impression of a 6-foot-tall brick wall of a man in his late 30s, which of course was terrible and he knew it. "Big...man? Big lad?"

Finally, Toffee moved, but only to turn his head so slowly that Lucien could swear his neck bones creaked like the door to a haunted house, and stare at him. Never in his life had Lucien seen an expression of pure, raw disdain like this before, certainly not on Terry's funny-looking ton-and-a-half puppy. It was like being laughed at, but worse, because the one laughing was about as smart as the apples Lucien had been trying to feed him.

Really, he was just glad Praecormu hadn't been around to see this. He could feel his ears trying to catch fire, and the last thing he needed was a gigglefit from a whelpling to make it worse.

With a defeated sigh, Lucien picked up the bucket, said, "Okay, but at least give me some credit for trying," and went back inside. He needed to call the other lady on Terry's emergency list.

---

Vember had been busy for quite some time since the banshee queen chose to bring it all down with her. Val'sharah was not a quiet place when the balance of life and death was thrown completely sideways, especially not when her little brother had gone briefly missing from his barrow den after his first proper dreamwalk. He'd come back, of course, but it had been horrid waiting for news of his return and then his improving health.

Someday, Leon was going to be the death of her, she just knew it... bloody Ambroces. If they weren't so damned earnest she wouldn't put up with them like this, she was sure of it.

It was a common line of thought, tinged with exhausted affection, and one that circled around in her thoughts yet again when she'd taken delivery of the moose she hadn't seen since he was hip-height. Initially, she'd been thrilled that he'd been broken of his pouncing habits, but that had quickly been set aside once she'd recognized that he simply wasn't happy to see her. Or anyone, for that matter. The poor thing was utterly despondent, just like Shedwyn's eldest had warned her.

Well. She'd dealt with stubborn animals before; Toffee was no different. Just another thick Ambroce skull to get through.

The harvest witch wasn't completely heartless, of course, and she did try to simply convince the sulking beast to eat for a little while. Offers of the best feed the Dreamgrove had to offer, his favorite apples, his namesake toffees, the delightful little tea cakes one of the owlkin had made for her... Nothing. He'd just hunkered down and stared off into the horizon, clearly waiting, probably watching, for Poppa to come home. It was enough to break her heart; she knew exactly how he felt, sometimes. After all, she was Gilnean.

"But we mustn't let ourselves just waste away," she continued her thought aloud as she patiently brushed his pelt. "What good would that do, honestly? How miserable would he be to finally come home, like he always does mind you, and find you'd pouted yourself into nothing but bones?"

As always, nothing. For a little while, Vember had approached the notion that he'd gone mute, up till he gave a particularly sullen little 'gronk' when she'd inspected his wounded leg. The vet they'd taken him too had been capable, but clearly, he'd had no idea how to work with an elderhorn. Thankfully, Vember was used to entirely too many different kinds of animals and their mad variety of wounds, and there were still plenty of supplies on hand to counter the worst effects of void corruption. "Like it or not, luv, you're going to be right as rain before long."

Once she was done wrapping the leg, she gave Toffee's antlers a soft rap with her knuckles. "Best prepare yourself, I'm coming back and one way or the other, you're going to have food in your belly before nightfall." The moose just huffed at her, but she saw it as a victory anyway; it was, after all, an answer.

And, of course, she was much more capable of wrestling his head to the ground as a worgen.

"Don't sulk, you great lump," she rumbled affectionately through grinning fangs as she patted his snout. "I'll do this as many times as I must, and you know it."

Toffee somehow managed to make the act of chewing sound grumpy. Vember took her leave, though she came back a bit later to put him on a lead and try to encourage him to take a walk with her. He resisted that, too, but only as long as it took for her to let out a long-suffering sigh and reach for his antlers. Toffee wasn't the most brilliant creature alive, but he wasn't stupid, either. He recognized when he was going to lose, and took a tentative step forward.

"You really are your father's son, Toffee." As she had when he was little, she rewarded him with a bit of candy, and though he hesitated, he did eventually take it. The walk was rather pleasant, all things considered, but Toffee always returned to his spot by the fence line to watch the horizon as soon as she let him. That hurt, she couldn't heal on her own.

If Terry made a liar out of her, she was going to find him herself and drag him back to the grove by his bloody ear.

( @daily-writing-challenge​ @vembermarlon​ @shedwyn​ )

Sylvanas Windrunner, Gilnean Queen of the Feral, and Genn Greymane, King of the forsakened city of Lordaeron.