She Did Not Care

Minna walked away from Aelerion, over the water and into the nearest bar in Booty Bay. She looked at the bar and her surroundings and she just… couldn’t. Her feelings were reeling, she actually felt nauseas. How is that even possible? she wondered, I’m undead.

She pulled her hearthstone out of a pouch on her belt and activated it, the cloud of green smoke swirled around her and transported her to her room at the inn in Undercity. She promptly dropped the stone and screamed, the very force of it rattled the walls, loosing some dust into the air from the cracks in the wood paneling. She turned and pulled her swords, plunging them into the floor.

Then she flipped the only table in the room, sending the chairs askew and the deck of cards that was on top of it, previously splayed out in a game of poker, flying through the air around her. The room became a disheveled mess in a matter of seconds. Read more…


The library was usually a pleasant place for her, with it’s tall ceilings and plenty of light from the floor-to-ceiling windows, surrounded by the comforting hug of bookshelves brimming with old tomes and the musty smell of their pages. But today Lilith sat at the large table in the middle of the room with a single, worn book held in her hands, and she stared at it as one would a ghost—a ghost made of malice and dark secrets. Her favorite surroundings did little to comfort her against the foreboding feeling she had in the pit of her stomach.

The book was the first volume of the journals of Rylantros Ravenglory, her beloved Luthor’s father. She had been warned of the journal’s contents by both of Rylantros’s sons and knew full well to expect the worst from it’s pages, and yet she hesitated. Will I regret this? she wondered, biting her lip, her eyes fixed on the dark, leather-bound cover. Will it change things?

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5th of June, Year 40

((the writing is messier than usual))

My head feels like it did when I woke up from the coma—heavy like a sack of ore and painful to lift. I could barely make the tea Lore left for me. But I did manage to drink all of it. Now I’m laying against the pillows propped against my headboard and waiting. It hasn’t kicked in yet, if it will at all.

What on Azeroth did I drink last night? I scarely remember a thing. Something about Tycho? I think Kass made the drinks.

Oh, Light. Remind me to stick to wine and only a glass or two.

I feel sick.

Being Vulnerable

4th of June, Year 40

I invited Kassogtha to have lunch with me today at the Legerdemain. I decided to bite the bullet and tell her the news, so I made myself prepared for any reaction she may have. As expected, she had a smug look when I told her that Luthor said he loved me. She’s suspected this since I told her about the letter.

But then she spit her wine clean out of her mouth in shock when I said he’d asked me to move in. And that I said yes.

That, she wasn’t expecting.

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Three Little Words

1st of June, Year 40

Last night I stopped by the manor to give Luthor a present. I finally finished the robes I’ve been working on for him and felt compelled to give them to him right away. It was late, but I figured he wouldn’t mind and of course he didn’t. In fact, he was glad I stopped by.

He loved the gift. I was right, the pattern is perfect for him. The black compliments his hair and the white offset his skin radiantly. He looked stunning in every sense of the word.

I hadn’t planned to spend the night but Luthor persuaded me—with his touch and his gaze as well as his words. He asked me to stay the night, and I obliged. Every time we make love it feels sweeter, and I feel all the more close to him. And, additionally, the more I realize how far down this rabbit hole I’ve fallen.

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((This was from a writing prompt on my guild’s forums back in July that I totally forgot to cross-post here. Enjoy!))

The red-haired priestess sat at a table in the Cantrips & Crows bar area, a mug of something hot cradled between her small hands and her face hidden mostly by the curtain of her curls which frame her downturned head. She wondered why she’d been asked here, as the letter hadn’t said. It just simply read: “Meet me at the Cantrips & Crows tonight, we need to talk. -Haldrat.”

She twirled the mug around slowly while she waited for the death knight, savoring the warmth from the cider it contained while her mind raced with thoughts. How could Olantunji, one of her best friends, not have known they were dating? And how could Haldrat have gotten drunk enough to have slept with her? He knew they were good friends. He had to have known she’d find out.

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