03-20-2019, 11:25 PM
Liadrin wasn't sure if she had slept since the day she had fled Silvermoon.
It had been two or three days - she had started to lose track, given how busy things have been. Tomorrow, she and Mercy were leaving the castle. She didn't know where they would go, but they needed to find somewhere for the kids to stay. Perhaps there was another orphanage that Mercy could lend a hand to in the Capitol, or perhaps one of the other cities nearby, or in Stratholme.
Light knew they were about to experience an influx of orphans... and when the Ban'dinoriel fell... there was going to be a hell of a lot more.
And someone needed to take care of them
Just like ann'da took care of me.
The orphans, and Mercy, had already fallen asleep. The full moon was high in the sky above them, the light peering in through the wide window. Remni and Raluhi, the alien creatures called 'draenei', who she had encountered during their flight from the city, were fast asleep; Remnii leaning against a stack of pillows on the bed as to allow her to sleep with her horns, and Raluhi in the chair near the desk. She glanced over to Salandria, who was at present curled in a ball under a thick blanket, white as her snowy hair. Liadrin smiled a pained smile.
And like I will care for her.
She would help Mercy shelter the others, but Salandria would stay with her. The sight of her limp body, lifeless and devoid of color, in the rubble that day had burned in her memory. No, she would not let that happen again.
Not to her daughter.
Perhaps not by birth, but the strongest bonds need not be by blood. She had grown to love Salandria as much as she would if she had brought her into this world. Tomorrow, she would make it official.
But tonight...
Tonight, she stared into the silver chalice she had borrowed from the Menethil's kitchens, with the blessing of their castellan. Holy water blessed by the church sat still within the chalice, still as the night.
Liadrin took a deep breath, her voice joining the quiet breaths of the children, and the loud snoring of her half-troll friend. She held a shaking hand over the chalice. It glowed for a moment before she pulled her hand back. The light receded.
You can do this, Liadrin. You must. You have to know. You have to know.
She took another deep breathe and brought her hand back. The soft, pale glow returned as she sprinkled a fine blue dust into the water. The moonlight caught the dust and reflected the light in a beautiful array. Soft magic glowed from within the chalice as the water turned silvery-blue as the magic took hold.
The Gatekeeper had made Sending unreliable at best. Scrying had thus far been unsuccessful, but she had no way of contacting Vandellor - he was a powerful and ancient priest. No doubt he could resist her pathetic attempts at peering into him, especially with the magical interference of the shell around Quel'thalas.
But this... There was no chance of failure here.
And that is why she was so afraid.
She peered into the water, her eyes, usually an amber-green, now reflecting the pale blue color of the water nearby.
Light... please... I beseech You, she thought, focusing on the chalice, Please... Did Vandellor Everpost survive the fall of Silvermoon? Is... my father alive?
She stared, unblinking at the chalice. She waited for what seemed like an eternity. Her eyes strained as she waited, waited...
The water turned red and thick, like blood.
Liadrin gasped, recoiling from the water and clasping her hands over the lower half of her face.
No. No no no no no no no. No, this can't be happening. Ann'da. Ann'da you can't be gone. You can't be gone. I need your guidance. I need your light. Please, please, please let it be a mistake.
But there was no way it could have been a mistake.
She scrambled away from the chalice, her knee striking the cup and casting it from the sill she was sitting on. It clattered to the ground, splashing water across the stone. She pulled herself against the window sill, hugging her knees close to her chest, burying her weeping face into herself. Though she tried to stifle them, hard, pained sobs echoed out through the room, a quiet requiem for the man who had given her everything.
Though the woman, silhouetted in the moon-lit window, had not been a child in nearly seven-hundred years, she felt just as small, as helpless, and vulnerable as every one of the orphans slumbering around the room..
It had been two or three days - she had started to lose track, given how busy things have been. Tomorrow, she and Mercy were leaving the castle. She didn't know where they would go, but they needed to find somewhere for the kids to stay. Perhaps there was another orphanage that Mercy could lend a hand to in the Capitol, or perhaps one of the other cities nearby, or in Stratholme.
Light knew they were about to experience an influx of orphans... and when the Ban'dinoriel fell... there was going to be a hell of a lot more.
And someone needed to take care of them
Just like ann'da took care of me.
The orphans, and Mercy, had already fallen asleep. The full moon was high in the sky above them, the light peering in through the wide window. Remni and Raluhi, the alien creatures called 'draenei', who she had encountered during their flight from the city, were fast asleep; Remnii leaning against a stack of pillows on the bed as to allow her to sleep with her horns, and Raluhi in the chair near the desk. She glanced over to Salandria, who was at present curled in a ball under a thick blanket, white as her snowy hair. Liadrin smiled a pained smile.
And like I will care for her.
She would help Mercy shelter the others, but Salandria would stay with her. The sight of her limp body, lifeless and devoid of color, in the rubble that day had burned in her memory. No, she would not let that happen again.
Not to her daughter.
Perhaps not by birth, but the strongest bonds need not be by blood. She had grown to love Salandria as much as she would if she had brought her into this world. Tomorrow, she would make it official.
But tonight...
Tonight, she stared into the silver chalice she had borrowed from the Menethil's kitchens, with the blessing of their castellan. Holy water blessed by the church sat still within the chalice, still as the night.
Liadrin took a deep breath, her voice joining the quiet breaths of the children, and the loud snoring of her half-troll friend. She held a shaking hand over the chalice. It glowed for a moment before she pulled her hand back. The light receded.
You can do this, Liadrin. You must. You have to know. You have to know.
She took another deep breathe and brought her hand back. The soft, pale glow returned as she sprinkled a fine blue dust into the water. The moonlight caught the dust and reflected the light in a beautiful array. Soft magic glowed from within the chalice as the water turned silvery-blue as the magic took hold.
The Gatekeeper had made Sending unreliable at best. Scrying had thus far been unsuccessful, but she had no way of contacting Vandellor - he was a powerful and ancient priest. No doubt he could resist her pathetic attempts at peering into him, especially with the magical interference of the shell around Quel'thalas.
But this... There was no chance of failure here.
And that is why she was so afraid.
She peered into the water, her eyes, usually an amber-green, now reflecting the pale blue color of the water nearby.
Light... please... I beseech You, she thought, focusing on the chalice, Please... Did Vandellor Everpost survive the fall of Silvermoon? Is... my father alive?
She stared, unblinking at the chalice. She waited for what seemed like an eternity. Her eyes strained as she waited, waited...
The water turned red and thick, like blood.
Liadrin gasped, recoiling from the water and clasping her hands over the lower half of her face.
No. No no no no no no no. No, this can't be happening. Ann'da. Ann'da you can't be gone. You can't be gone. I need your guidance. I need your light. Please, please, please let it be a mistake.
But there was no way it could have been a mistake.
She scrambled away from the chalice, her knee striking the cup and casting it from the sill she was sitting on. It clattered to the ground, splashing water across the stone. She pulled herself against the window sill, hugging her knees close to her chest, burying her weeping face into herself. Though she tried to stifle them, hard, pained sobs echoed out through the room, a quiet requiem for the man who had given her everything.
Though the woman, silhouetted in the moon-lit window, had not been a child in nearly seven-hundred years, she felt just as small, as helpless, and vulnerable as every one of the orphans slumbering around the room..