Xivarra's blog


“This - was not what I expected.”


Hardly a whisper but for the barest pull of lips over sharp teeth. Xivarra might have gone unheard were it not for her shadow.

“I doubt any could have predicted or prepared for this. Even the Illidari, no matter how they may insist otherwise.”

The Draenei tensed and glanced back to the one standing behind her: an elf. A Sin’dorei, leather-clad, armed, and deceptively at ease in the light bathing the shattered landscape.

Lhysandra closed the distance on padded feet, slipped her palm beneath Xivarra’s chin, and cradled the horned woman’s head against her abdomen. The stroke of thumb against her jaw soothed, but it could not erase the pensive moue tugging violet lips down.

“This was never my world. Not really. My mother spoke of it, but - this place was little more than a memory when I was born. I hope she does not come here. It would break her heart.”

“Hold onto those stories, Bells. What it is can’t change what it was.”

“-It sounds like you have considered this yourself.”

“You’d be hard pressed to find anyone unaffected by loss, scale and time notwithstanding.”

Winnowing wind shifted, a susurrus on parched grass and ancient dust, stirring with it those who once dwelled on the dead precipice. Spirits flickered in and out of phase, their silent patrol an equally silent punctuation - images of moments of repose, locked in time before annihilation.

“Azeroth was not my world either. Argus suffers all the same. I will grieve when this is over.” A long, slow breath later, Xivarra tucked her legs, making room for her elven compatriot. "Did you bring your inks?"

"Of course. The ley lines are fragmented but still useful. We can collect what we need here.”

“I will begin the ritual. I just. Need a moment.”

“Only when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, my friend. There are chains to be broken.”


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