Calm after the Storm

Voices, low and muffled, came back first. She didn’t open her eyes yet; couldn’t, it simply hurt too much, but why, she couldn’t recall. Laying in what she was sure was a cot, she remained still, listening to the soft voices and trying to piece together what had happened. She remembered she had gone to Boralus to find someone to help her with- With a start, it all came crashing back like a cold wave, and it took all of what little strength she had left to keep from sitting up. She didn’t know who had brought her here, and she had a better chance of finding out if she listened and stayed put. Besides, she had a lot to think about. What stood out most importantly in her mind was… He was gone. Deathbreathe. Dead. And she had killed him. As she lay quietly, fighting the quickening of her heartbeat and trying to recall what had happened after, someone approached the cot. It was only when they reached down and touched them did she realize bandages, thick and gauzy, wrapped around her head, covering the right side of her face. That’s what hurt so much. She remembered why, now. First there was… Seeker. Or Dog Face. Whatever she wanted to be called now. She had her reasons, and that was enough. Bowan knew Seeker would help when she asked the assassin to come with her, of course. It was strange to see a familiar face- maybe not necessarily a face, in Seeker’s case, but the mask brought back just as many old memories. The apprehension she felt when she finally found the younger woman in the dockyard wasn’t fear that Seeker would refuse so much as the fear if she agreed. If she herself died, then so be it, but Seeker was… one of the few friends left over from her sullied life before the Cavaliers. She just couldn’t do it alone. Bowan hoped now that Seeker was all right, wherever she was.

Once Seeker agreed, they acted fast and planned very little. Bowan had to- if she thought about it too long, she feared she might have lost her nerve. It was too easy to dream of vengeance and demand blood when she herself was bleeding by his hand, but now when she could be safe, could… disappear. She could go anywhere. Drustvar, maybe, deep in the woods where the sea couldn’t find her. Even Kalimdor was sounding good at this point, far from the war. Somewhere no one would ever find her. But that would never be good enough for him. Or herself. And then there they were, spending those long hours waiting for the ship to arrive, stowing away on the Bridgeport docks. Blue-sailed, an Alliance frigate, with a hold full of weapons and war supplies, departing at dawn for Stormwind. If this wasn’t his target, nothing would be.  They waited. And waited. And the storm came. Suddenly, fiercely, sweeping over the Alliance vessel with unfathomable fury. Holes were blown in the hull, igniting fires, splintering wood, killing sailors. Those who survived the cannon fire were soon after set upon by the crew.  When they made it to the top deck, Bowan realized she was half-expecting him not to be there. Hoping, maybe. But he was.  The battle itself wasn’t so clear, but Bowan preferred it that way. More cannonfire, barrages of shattered wood and bone and fire. No one noticed the two women in dark leather weaving through the skirmishes, at least not at first. But he did. And the distance between them closed.  They fought. Seeker leapt into action, literally, and if Bowan hadn’t been so consumed in the moment, she would have been proud. She was still so ferocious.  Finally, face to face, blade to blade. One of her greatest nightmares, consuming her for years on end, and for the first time she looked him straight in the eyes and denied him the satisfaction of fear. Even when he turned his pistols on Seeker, she denied him that too. No more dark alleys, no more ambushes, and no more bullets.  The ship was already beyond saving when the smoldering deck gave way beneath them, weakened from the cannons and fire. She could feel the deck tilting beneath her feet, sliding slowly into the churning black seas. There was still time to end it. Below deck was nothing short of an inferno. Chunks of wood rained down, filling the air with ash and cinders and smoke. The flames found his long, sweeping coat, and then the rest of him too. That alone could have killed him, and she very nearly let it. It would have been so satisfying to watch him down the length of her blade, just letting him burn, and she hesitated a moment too long, savoring the way the fire brought him low in a way she never thought she could. That was her mistake, assuming he wasn’t still dangerous. Her eyes had left him for only a second to check that Seeker was all right- and his hand had closed over her wrist, trapping her sword hand with it. And he struck her with… something. Something sharp. Metal from his horrid face, a slice peeled partially off by Seeker’s blow on the top deck. He carved it down her face from brow to chin, and took her eye with it. Bowan always had thought how she would do it. All those days in hiding gave her too much time to think. She thought about shooting him in the gut and letting him bleed out, just as he had done to her. She thought about what she could do if she got him in chains. Torture. Flaying. Poison. Burning was acceptable too. Something poetic, something satisfying, something that would last. But in her panic, her sudden fear that she had truly let her guard down at the last second and maybe she would be the one to succumb to the fire or the sea, she had simply lashed out with her blade, blindly. When she could see through the smoke and the blood that blotted out her vision, he was gone, gutted. And she decided that was all she needed after all. And then the ship went down, taking his charred body with it. She foggily remembered making it back to the upper deck with Seeker, finding something to cling to once the ships had vanished beneath the waves- his vessel had succumbed as well, once the Alliance ship had returned fire. And then… nothing. Darkness and water. But then, a beach. And sunshine, and sand, and people walking amongst the wreckage. Nothing, again, and now… wherever this place was. Deciding if whoever these people were wanted to kill her, they’d have done so already. Besides, being awake for even that brief time had sapped her of her strength, and her injuries throbbed, and it was simply easier to… drift off again. She could finally rest, really and truly. Besides Seeker, only one thought occupied her mind before sleep found her again. He’s gone.

— Brenna Twohy, from “Little Red Riding Hood Addresses the Next Wolf,” Forgive Me My Salt (via lifeinpoetry)

Terry Pratchett, from The Fifth Elephant (via the-final-sentence)

Schuyler Peck (via wordsnquotes)

“Legs for Days” a prosthetic rental company

Ph.  Julia Mueller

“The wolf blood.” Arya remembered now. “I’ll be as strong as Robb. I said I would.“ 

Some days I am more wolf than woman and I am still learning how to stop apologizing for my wild

-Nikita Gill

Anna Funder, Stasiland (via wordsnquotes)

Azincourt 2015 (Sunday, Battle) by Celia Peachum

You wake in the night with your arm hanging over the side of your bed. It is still dark, and your bedroom is shrouded in deep shadow. Something unseen seizes your hand.

You grasp it tightly, knowing that first impressions are important and a firm, confident handshake will establish dominance.