03-19-2021, 03:15 AM
"Are you quite certain, Ranger-Captain? Between Rommath and I, we could excavate-"
"I'll handle it. Your majesty. Thank you."
It had been the better part of two hours. since the others had left. Velameestra laid still and motionless, gently resting against one of the spider-like roots that made her grave. Alleria stepped back from the hole that would serve as the resting place of her niece - where she would undergo the painful transformation and rise once more as the walking dead. As a vampyr, just like her.
Her mind had been clouded by fear and worry as she extracted the dirt from the damp earth. Trowel by trowel, the tumultuous events that had unfolded at the time of Velameestra's demise had ran through her mind on repeat. Grand Magister Rommath had assured her that her soul had been preserved from the foul curse that had tried to claim her... but still she worried.
"This should do," she said, glancing at the now-lifeless corpse that awaited her interment. Alleria tossed the shovel aside, unbothered by the subtle ache of exertion that would have snuck into her muscles had she not the strength of the grave, nor the drive of purpose, guiding her practiced motions. The silence of her steps was not punctuated by the panting that such a task would have prompted months ago; after all, one could not be short of breath when there were no breaths to be had. Alleria squatted down next to Vel's body, her head tilted slightly against the root. Were it not for the bloody, violent scar on the pale girl's neck, she almost looked peaceful.
Alleria's head swiveled towards the cave ingress. Clouds had covered the sky, and for the last hour, had opened up and covered the pines with a steady coat rain. Rare were such rains here in the tundra - indeed, it was likely that much of it could freeze over before long. But, in the eternal days of Northrend's summer, the temperature flirted with freezing enough to provide such weather from time to time.
"Let's get you cleaned up," she said, gently wrapping her arms around the limp frame of the young elf. Though she was only but a few inches shorter than Alleria, she seemed so very, very small. Carefully, Alleria lifted her niece from the cavern and ducked out into the rain. Her feet did not sink into the mud that had formed all around them, so light was her step.
The ranger looked up to the sky. Even through the trees, through the clouds, she still squinted at the fraction of light that snuck its way into the darkened grove. Surrendering to the flow of water, she closed her eyes, allowing the water to soak her face, her hair.
Will you ever forgive me? she mused, the thought coming unbidden to her mind. Vereesa. Lirath. Gil. Nirenn. Will you ever forgive me, for taking your Little Moonbeam away from you?
Rhonin. Will you ever forgive me, for killing your little girl? For letting her become a monster, like me?
Her hands clutched onto Velameestra's body as tightly as they could. Her legs began to shake.
Sylvanas. Will you ever forgive me, for tearing our family apart? Do you still think that Mother would despise me for what I have become?
Alleria sank to her knees, her shoulders beginning to shake from the cold, from the tears that danced an invisible dance with the water that streamed down her face. And yet, even so, she held tightly onto her beloved niece, clutching her to her trembling breast, lest no mud stain her pristine, lifeless form.
Arator. Oh, Arator. Will you ever forgive me, for dragging Vel into this darkness? For spilling my suffering across our bloodline, like a crimson stain across a bloodied tablecloth?
In life, Vel's body was frigid. Forever marred by her exposure to the Sunwell, her skin had always been like ice to the touch. And yet, as she buried her face into the young woman's lifeless neck, her skin, though lifeless and cold, was almost warm by comparison. The blood that had dried upon the wound, lightened by the kiss of rain, began to wash away, leaving naught but the dark, spider-like net of veins that made up the wound that had slain her. A beautiful, macabre mark that would henceforth bind them together in a way that filled Alleria with as much fear as it did comfort.
"Neither of us will ever be alone," Alleria whispered. A mantra, one sworn by the very woman she now cradled in her arms, clutching to her like a mother to child. A mantra, as much for her as it was for the woman she knew could not hear her.
"Neither of us will ever be alone."
---
Hours had passed since she had interred Velameestra within her resting place. Carefully, she had filled the grave with the dirt she had extracted, but she dared not stray far from her niece, even in death. Pacing had given way to leaning, which had given way to curling up against the very same root that Vel's corpse had rested upon while Alleria prepared her grave. Though a mile inland from the Wintercroft, Alleria's eyes were closed, her body still and at rest alongside her niece as her body underwent the painful acclimation deep beneath the earth upon which she slumbered.
Her hand was clutched firmly around the emerald pendant at her breast, its chain wrapped firmly around the ring finger which bore a simple golden band.