| A House On Murder Row: Nine Entries in an Unknown's Journal |
[Sep. 29th, 2007|01:07 am] |
A House On Murder Row: Nine Entries in an Unknown's Journal
Characters: Darda, Arduriel -- though neither are outright mentioned by name.
Notes: The names are all intentionally left blank here, though it's pretty obvious who they are. The author is nameless, as her character wasn't that important, and this is more my trying to map out the life of one of the Wretched before, y'know, they get all Wretched. Arr.
i.
The city is moving.
So many things are rising back up, and the air is scented with energy I have not experienced in a painfully long time. On the way to work I was nearly bowled over two men orchastrating the restoration of the statues outside an auction house. It did my heart much good to watch their splintered arms slide back into place, their torsos once again fit with the curve of their stone hips, and finally their severed heads rejoining with their necks! I must look at these things, though their devastation brings memories I could do without, and look forward to the future.
I am working in a lounge on one of the upper floors of a building. The area is less than reputable, but the house itself is very fine. There is a splendid main parlour with a balcony that allows a favourable view of the city -- so long as one does not look down -- and a great many well embroidered cushions. Those that attend the parlour in the evenings are not, as I first feared, those that I spy on the alleys below, but rather very handsomely dressed citizens, both men and women. No doubt some of their number are the very same magisters reviving the glory of our city! ( I feel safe knowing that I spend my working time with them. ) |
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| A House On Murder Row: Darda & Asric, Part II |
[Sep. 29th, 2007|01:01 am] |
A House On Murder Row: Darda & Asric, Part II
Characters: Darda, Arduriel, Asric
Other Parts: Part I
She didn't see him for a week.
Not that she spent the time complaining. If anything Darda felt humiliated, to the point where even guests at Arduriel's parlour wondered at her rather distracted demeanour, her less than devoted attention when they attempted to regale her and her coworkers with various meandering anecdotes. By the time Asric came around, snaring her wrist in his hand as she passed by a corridor, she'd only just begun swallowing her pride about the whole thing.
The girl glared at the dark haired elf trapping her in the hallway. "Piss off," she hissed.
"I have something for you," he began quickly, his tone low. When she moved to jerk her arm from his grasp, he allowed her to break free. Just as well, as his hand was needed in order to dip into his vest, an endeavour which, a moment later, produced a sealed letter.
The paper was eyed several long moments until, flatly, she asked, "What's that then?"
"I wanted to apologize." Again his eyes darted along the length of the corridor, then settled once more on her form, cloaked as it was in gaudy jewels and silks. "... but I'm absolutely wretched at the things," he continued, his grin light, faint, before fading once more. The letter was extended to her. "So I wanted to give you this instead."
( A snort, a skeptical once over of the elf in front of her, and she snatched the paper from him. ) |
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| A House On Murder Row: Darda & Asric, Part I |
[Sep. 29th, 2007|12:58 am] |
A House On Murder Row: Darda & Asric, Part I
Faction: Horde
Characters: Darda, Arduriel, Asric
Other Parts: Part Two
When she was finished slipping the last brilliant pin into her ginger hair, giving one last adjustment to the slim chains and sparkling gems at her throat, and cleaning up the stray makeup at her lips with a tongue dampened fingertip, she turned the man behind her and asked, "... presentable?”
The man gave his belt one last tug before clasping it, then lifted his chin towards her chest. “Missed a button or two there."
Darda fastened the front of her robes closed hastily, scarcely finishing the movement before she was moving forward to meet the other elf in another, brief kiss.
His hand kneaded her side. "You'll ruin your make up again."
She snorted, mouth free to grin as she pulled away again just as quickly. "I know." Another brief touch up with her fingertips to her lips, and she was pulling the blue curtain beside them open, just enough to let a brilliant green eye peer through to the hallway beyond. "... looks clear," she confirmed, turning her attention back into the room in time to see him raking his dark hair back into order. She reached out to tug on his sleeve. "You first. Hurry up, you're not getting any prettier."
The elf slipped by her and out into the corridor, his progress only halted when he felt her hand on his wrist. ( His eyebrow lifted at the slim, red haired girl in the garish jewels. ) |
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| A House On Murder Row: An Introduction |
[Sep. 29th, 2007|12:53 am] |
A House On Murder Row: An Introduction
Faction: Horde
Characters: Darda, Arduriel
Notes: Beginning of a set of stories that are in no particular order, detailing events from the life of my warlock (and main!) Darda during the period between the sin'dorei becoming sin'dorei, and their joining with the Horde. Effectively a brothel, but we in the biz like to call it a mana den.
It was located on the building's second floor. This was a necessity in order for it to boast the balcony, the talls windows that its proprietor prized – she was, above all else, a discriminating woman. And if one were to see through said windows during the night, rose tinted as they were and veiled so by gauzy indigo curtains, one would spy a sunken room boasting a multitude of plush pillows, the embroidery of each elaborate. Here and there the cushions played host to a patron, perhaps two, their figures at ease, their faces lit with relaxed smiles and glinting green eyes. Were they not linked by conversation or appreciative looks, they were connected by way of any number of hookahs. The curls of smoke that crept from their mouths spiraled towards the ceiling in time with the low strains of the nearby sitar, its strings sounding without a musician to pluck them.
By the edge of the room, where the curtains begin anew in shades of purple, ( there stood our host ) |
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| A Stonemason's Daughters, Part II |
[Sep. 29th, 2007|12:45 am] |
A Stonemason's Daughters, Part II
Faction: Alliance
Characters: Blythe (Molly), Katharine
Related Stories:A Stonemason's Daughters, Part I
"Don't even think about it."
The stern words cut Molly to the quick. She stops what she's doing -- which is creeping up behind the tree her sister currently leans against -- and lets her steps, which she was attempting to make so silent, lapse back into their usual shuffle against the dry grass of Westfall. In the gloom of night Katharine's form is almost entirely lost. Moonlight outlines her form sparingly, enough for Molly to see that the other girl has her arms crossed, has her eyes narrowed and fixed on the road, has two knives at her belt and another at her boot. At seventeen Katharine is already a good seven inches taller than her younger sister, and as Molly approaches, all five feet of her, she feels every bit of the difference in their heights.
"And quit dragging your feet," Katharine hisses, the sound half dulled by the red bandana knotted around her mouth and jaw. "If you insist on being out here, ( at least don't be a total write off. ) |
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| A Stonemason's Daughters |
[Sep. 29th, 2007|12:41 am] |
A Stonemason's Daughters
Faction: Alliance
Characters: Blythe (Molly), Katharine
Related Stories: A Stonemason's Daughters, part II
She hates the Cathedral.
She suffers through the eager welcome she receives barely five steps inside, ignores the familiar tug to glance over her shoulder when the priest greets her as mage. The inside of her head's still too thick from the night's earlier drink. She finds herself squinting. She finds herself skirting the main ribbon of blue carpet that culminates in the room's altar, instead choosing to cling to the side pillars, the more shadowed vaults. With narrowed eyes she scrutinizes the carvings, the niches, absently tracing the outline given to the stone by the sunlight.
It's still the Cathedral of Light. It's never really dark.
**********
( I'm going to burn it down. ) |
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