AiyallaKhaston's blog

Souvenirs

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Violet was everywhere, wavey tresses blanketed Trayle's lap. The babbling of the creek brought little comfort to her as she cut away strands of her long locks. The last dissection was clutched in her hand, warden's all had such long hair, in all her years, she hand never cut her hair to the scalp, part of her felt compelled to hold onto it the lock, a keepsake reminding her of who she was... what she had given up.

Eyeless

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Trayle wrung out the towel in the basin and carefully pressed it to his area around where Ovan's eyes used to be. He grumbled in his sleep and tried to push her hands away but the Warden was patient with him and let him settle before continuing to wipe away what dried blood remained. Once finished she wrapped the mask around his head again, tying it gently, certain he was still in the lingering pain of having his eyes magically burned from their sockets.

Purge

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It was impossible to sleep restfully in Felwood, the feel of the air itself was unsettling. Not even the comfort of the soft bed, aided in the delivery of calming slumber. Trayle rested her head on Ovan's chest, hoping the rhythm of his steady heartbeat would drown out the rattling thoughts that spun through her thoughts, even as his arm absentmindedly drew her close, it brought her no calm. 

Curtain Call

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With a jerk Trayle sat up, she had nodded off again. Rubbing her eyes she drew in a breath and stared down at the green haired weakling, plaguing their camp, keeping her from the companion she was bound to. How easy it would be to simply sink the dagger through her, to cut the nuisance from her life. Her lips curled at the thought, gutting and discarding the woman, so that she and Ovan could continue. But then her attention turned back to him, to her slumbering desire...

The Demon Within

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Sunrise, it crept through the trees and warmed their backs, but the cave was insight. She only had to push her self but a bit further, her body throbbing in pain was a secondary concern, he was in a malestorm of misery, his mind and body both reeling from the ritual. She wouldn't think of it now, no, he needed to get to safety to rest. Once he was taken care of, she would find time to reflect.

Sate Desire...

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The market was crowded, elves had brought armor, weapons, and harvest to be displayed. It was the sort of gathering that lifted spirits, and drew smile to sallow faces. In the distance young could be heard laughing as they ran around, kind conversation filled the air like a soft hum. The giggle of young elven girls, spun around them like a whirlwind of glee as they watched the tattoo'd and bare-chested Ovan move around the crowd.

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violence

Please Stay With Me...

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Wails rang through the air, the horde of cultist swarmed around the base of the mammoth statue, clinging to their dead glaring at the lethal pair perched farm above them. Sobs of torment and misery played through the air , a macabre symphony orchestrated by him and his devoted warden.The land ran red, a crimson blanket was slowly seeping from the platform he sent crashing to the ground, it seemed the echo of collision and bodies breaking beneath it, still carried to the heavens. 

Blood in the poison (cont)

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Light had barely bled into the cave, distorted by the barrier warden magic had conjured, the glow and subtle warmth caused for a stir. The warden rolled over and looked him, he slept still, arm draped over his eyes, he had barely made a sound throughout the night. Her hand lifted in curiosity to stroke his cheek but she refrained, after all he had been through, all he hand endured, he deserved the chance to take this slowly. Reaching for her boots she slipped them on quietly and moved off the makeshift bed, draping the covers that she had laid on over him.

When the morning came

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They were everywhere stirring like a busy beehive that had been struck by a bat. She knew... She just only wished she didn't. As Trayle approached she looked to the hovering masses, all of them questioning who's fault it was, how did it happen, she didn't show a moment of desperation, but held strong. As she approached the cell, the gas and smoke burned her eyes, a fellow warden held a mask over her mouth as she stared at the vacant haze, Ovan was gone. 

The Bond

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Teachings are funny things. We learn so much that about being numb and cold. Sheltering ourselves from pity and empathy. I have always been content, solid, never fading from my course, the Warden's course. Perhaps because he is not my charge, he is already contained, confined to a cell. The need to feel nothing has shed, and I see him for what he is, a father who has lost too much.

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