prideoftheramore-blog reblogged
Zoen wants space, to pace and sneer from a distance, to disassociate from this pale stranger whom is owed none of her allegiance and even less of her tolerance. She shouldn’t be here - she is Lord Mith now, she has a necropolis to run and knights to command, Acherus calls for her lord and what if they think she abandoned them -
Tiris thwarts her attempt to sidle off by burrowing deeper against her legs as Proudmoore indulges him, and for as much as fury burns inside her like lichfire, Zoen cannot… deny him this. Her own hands twine through his fur to rub at his spine, careful of the gaping scar of his death.
Apologies were nothing, just a wisp of words on the wind, insubstantial - her father taught her this that day -
- but her shoulders relax regardless, those old cold-burning embers in her belly die down to softly glowing coals, and she… does not fan them back to life.
“You asked. I came.” The restless dead should not be able to sound weary. “It isn’t more than that.”
A confession sits on her tongue, acidic with the taste of weakness. But there is no one here to hear but the waves, and the wood, and the woman whom is supposed to be reliquary of these weaknesses anyways.
“Denying you does not come easily.”
Jaina feels the air warm, just a tad—it’s still almost frigid, between the sea breeze and the company of two different-kinds-of frost wielders. But it warms, just that tad, and she lets her eyes close, fingers withdrawing from the cracks in the taffrail.
Denying you does not come easily. What a peculiar place to find words like those.
“May I be honest with you, Zoen?” It’s a rhetorical question—or perhaps she is asking herself instead, seeking permission she cannot give herself, hoping that if she speaks aloud, her hands will be tied and there will be no biting the words back.
The wind whistles, plucking at her cloak, Zoen’s coat; like strings on an instrument. Perhaps this is the melody of the song Jaina was singing under her breath earlier. Or perhaps that’s just coincidence.
When her eyes open, it’s the ocean she stares out at. Black and featureless. How maddening it would be were it her only company. “I’m not sure I could’ve done this alone.”
prideoftheramore-blog reblogged
beeftea78-deactivated20200113
some oddly specific advice from Hesiod (c700 BC)
which thicc girl hurt you (and stole your grain)
the-at-symbol
Grain-stealing thots
prideoftheramore-blog reblogged
“But…?” Soft cajoling does not carry on her voice; it scrapes raw against the gravel and ice of her reverberations, and what comes out is nearly a demand. “You’re beingawfully melodramatic today.”
Tiris descends from the upper deck, maw flecked with blood and shell shards, and slams his body against her legs in a bid for attention. It unbalances her, sends her staggering to the side, and suddenly she and Jaina are no longer outside arm’s length but shoulder to shoulder. He takes advantage of the situation to lean harder against her while shoving his nose into Jaina’s side. Overcome by his presence and the bright warm rush of emotion which floods her mind through his, she is unprepared for the sudden, subtle knife which her mother slips through her ribs.
Salvation.
Armor rustles as her shoulders tense, and the scars whine as a snarl pulls at her lips. The taffrail moans and cracks as the water seeped into the wood expands into ice. “You’re projecting, Archmage,” she says acidly. “I’m not the one who needs saving.”
“I see,” Jaina says, a hint of something like life in her. Teasing. Just for a moment. “Then I appreciate you accompanying me out of the goodness of your heart.”
Then the moment passes. She barely responds to Zoen’s awkward stumbling into her, resting a free hand on Tiris’ head to gently scritch her fingers through his fur. Her daughter is cold in a way Jaina isn’t, a way her magic isn’t, but after so much time in the proximity of death... she’s gotten used to it.
And somewhere, of course, there still burns a candlelight of love for that long-lost daughter. Surely it’s what brought her to ask Zoen to come along with her, after the Broken Isles. After the wretched, horrible events on those Isles.
“I’m sorry,” she finally says. Her other hand reaches to touch the glimpses of dead ice in the taffrail, cautious, but more intrigued. “I do appreciate your company.”
prideoftheramore-blog reblogged
“Haunting,” she repeats dryly, brows skyrocketing as she shakes her head. “That’s a way to put it. Is that even how it really went?”
One of the many untold things between them: Salanar, and a quest, and a soul in the Shadowlands, so consumed by the thirst for vengenance that the essence of hatred dwelt within him strong enough for a Horseman’s steed. That was my grandfather, the Deathlord thinks. I stole from my grandfather’s soul.
The recognition stirs nothing in her.
Her feet move unthinkingly, body gravitating towards the archmage like the tides drawn by the moons, until she stands braced against the taffrail beside her, carefully out of arm’s reach, eyes skating the top of her mother’s head to trace the line of the horizon. Above them, the sound of cracking gives way to phlegmy hacking at Tiris coughs on shell.
“I cannot tell you how excited I am to be greeted by the lynch mob again.”
Jaina hums, the sound lost in the groan of the ship’s bones and the breaking tides underway. She says, “Maybe. I could say the tale’s been twisted with time, but—...” Is it safe for her to assume she isn’t the one who’s twisted it?
She watches her feet, still looking for that memory. The wind tugs at her cloak, at the braided hair hidden away underneath her hood. She almost finds it, but a glance up at the dark and stormy sea stretching endlessly before her washes it away again.
“This is not your salvation,” she says. “Not yet. But I know my home. I know it can be.”
prideoftheramore-blog reblogged
The ship is silent as the grave, which is to say not at all.
Planks groan ghoulishly underfoot, and the creak of the riggin brings to mind sinew stretched over bone. And more - deeper - other associations claw at her attention, but grave soil and the fog of resurrection make them too nebulous to truly grasp. Something about floroboards?
Waves slam into the hull, and dash the memories against the rocks. Zoen does not seek to recover them; there are better distractions to indulge. A deck above spills the cracking of a shell as Tiris determinedly gnaws at a crab which had been stranded by the ship rising from the seafloor. A deck above that…
“It’s a stupid song.”
She has to shout to be heard over the roaring sea, and her mother has long finished singing, but to say nothing - to let this fester between them, like so much else - seems, at that moment, absolutely intolerable.
Jaina stands still, on that deck above, eyes dark yet full of something. Not her anger, and not her happiness either. But it’s there, and fierce, and she stares out into the waters dark like her eyes as Zoen’s words reach her.
“It’s haunting,” Jaina says, somewhere between an agreement with her daughter and a compliment to the song.
Her head dips, and her hood shadows her face, as she turns and paces down the length of the railing at last. She descends a staircase, passes Tiris with little more than a glance and the denied thought to perhaps stroke his fur. She watches her feet, but notably not with shame; a memory, foggy as the ship she stands upon, dances in her mind. It’s like she’s trying to retrace its steps.
“And you should know it,” she continues, her voice strong like the ocean breeze that carries the sails. “What to expect in Kul Tiras.”
#{ DAUGHTER }#{ MY PRIDE AND JOY }#{ MY FLESH AND BLOOD }#{ hi i wrote this n cried bc i love jaina and zoen so MUCH FUCK }#{ also ur bold quotes were always a good idea and if im starting over on aesthetics now is the TIME TO IMPLEMENT THEM }#ic#exspiravitae#v | bfa#{ like i said prepare for rockiness while i figure out what the FUCK my present day jaina muse is like rip }
{ ALSO if you see i’ve unfollowed you it’s Only because i’m going for a fresh start here, if i can manage this new thread me and @exspiravitae are starting i’ll see about fixing up my page and such, and reworking my guidelines and such
the last time i was here i burnt myself out very badly, and a lot of that was due to my state as a person then, but i’m a lot healthier now and so i hope this blog can flourish as i have!!
because i love jaina so FUCKENING MUCH YALL GOD }
#{ anyone interested in rping with me when i'm on my feet: i see you!! i'm so excited!!! i see lots of ocs and WOW IM EXCITED I LOVE }#{ this of course doesnt apply to friends of COURSE im still following yalls blogs if they look active hfsdjkfhsdjk }#{ WHICH ALSO if ur my friend and i didnt recognize ur new blog pls @ me like i said. VERY BEHIND. MY MAIN'S ILIKEYOSHI THO }#ooc
{ it’s me again with another well-intentioned promise that i Want To Play but i’m forgetful and scatter-brained and Very Emotionally Busy IRL (terminally sick father, and all the destruction on my future as a result of it, you know, the works) BUT!!!!! u all saw the warbringers short. u know why i’m here. u know i’m just one lesbian riding the waves of any and all jaina content
i’m very behind on Everything though so prepare for hiccups but WHATEVER ITS A FUN BLOG FOR FUN I REFUSE TO STRESS MYSELF OUT ABOUT THIS AGAIN
HI }
{ NATURALLY as soon as i make that post some Real Life Shit makes everything a lil bit hinky. i’ll be swamped through the weekend but once things calm down again maybe,, i’ll look into tidying this thing up......... }
{ whats up nyall i saw one (1) pic of bfa jaina and i’ll never be the same }
#{ I JUST REALLY LOVE HER i would. like to come back to this blog sometime. }#{ im a little nervous about it but also im like a Functional Human Being now (yay meds!) so maybe i wont burn out }#{ I DUNNO THE FIRST STEP WAS SEEING IF I EVEN STILL HAD THE PASSWORD FOR THIS ACCT LOL step one complete }#{ HI YALL }
prideoftheramore-blog reblogged
BRB, gonna go kidnap Calia and Jaina.
With the holidays nearly upon us, even grumpy old Lich Kings gather their families around them.
The fact that he’s going to have to chain them to the dinner table shouldn’t matter even a bit.
*posts “On Vacation” on the door & teleports out*
prideoftheramore-blog reblogged
To be honest, the only reason Arthas is still chasing after Jaina is because taking care of all those ghouls is overwhelming him.
You can’t conquer the world, impose your will on thousands of damned souls, and still have time to put the dead children to bed. It’s just not happening.
[ WELL ARTHAS, MAYBE IF YOU JUST SAID AS MUCH SHE’D BE WILLING TO ADOPT A FEW THOUSAND GHOULS WITH YOU.
we’re going to have to talk about your definition of ‘adoption’ though. please stop stealing people out of their graves, it’s Fucking Rude. ]
prideoftheramore-blog reblogged
Magical moments of archmage friendship & luv >:D
Mom, I want a cookie.
The coffee table between them erupts with a flurry of blue-purple smoke and a few sparks, quickly dissipating to reveal an abundance of arcane-rich cookies. Assuming one’s taste buds were not dead, they would taste rather good—if bearing a bit of a kick. High concentrations of mana could do that to one’s nervous system.
❝ I can’t bake, ❞ Jaina says, and it’s true—her best fires, oddly enough, seem to be the ones started in ovens. She takes one of the cookies and breaks it in half with her teeth. ❝ And you can’t eat. ❞
prideoftheramore-blog reblogged
[ hi i miss this dumb blog. i miss all my loser muses. i’ll be back i swear ]
#[ i gotta let myself chill out & not work myself into a burnout bc the second i turn this into a chore all hell breaks loose ]#[ & that's nobody's fault but my own i just. gotta. let myself take breaks ]#[ i'm sorry for vanishing i swear i'm just recharging and trying to decide how to prevent future burnouts! ]#( ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴍᴀɴᴀ )
prideoftheramore-blog reblogged
necroarchy
That chill heralding the sudden arrival of an incredibly pissed off God of Death, who wastes absolutely no time in grabbing the archmage by the waist, hoisting her onto his (non-lethally spiky) shoulder, and walking back through the gate from whence he came.
He was willing to be patient, Jaina. Really.
It’s not his fault you decided to go and screw a lizard.
[ RU D E ]