The Waning Embers

[McKnighter]

The Scryers' collection of knowledge may not be on par with the impressive library in the city-state of Dalaran, but it was without a doubt one of the largest in the ruins of Outland. While the forces of Shattrath have dwindled in the aftermath of the recent war, many found themselves leaving for further excitement or to settle down after witnessing the horrors of violence. Yet, the Scryers still maintained a standing faction, in defense of the city of Shattrath and to research further methods in combating the Burning Legion and its followers. With the grand objective in mind, someone has to ensure that all the knowledge stored on the bookshelves of the library are left in tidy order, for ease of use...

A pale elf with emerald orbs emitting from her eye sockets cautiously inches her way through an isle of tomes and books, her arms embracing a handful of rolled-up scrolls. The dark haired maiden did not contain the typical youthful features that are common to her race, what her purple blouse and pants did not cover shown sickly pale skin, bony hands peek out of her oversized sleeves. The frail girl's face was ravaged by foregin sources, thick sections of skin merged together in bright pink scars, rendering what was an attractive visage into features most undesirable. A ring of the skin damage also encased the base of her neck, visible at times when her collar stretched downward. The elf's stride was one of effort and clumsiness, each step appeared to be a decisive battle in the campign to move her body forward.

Tana Mistfall reached the end of the bookcase valley, pausing as she took a few seconds of respite. Of all the Light followers and medical doctors, none could fully restore her body to an optimal status. No matter how much restorative energies were pumped into the damage vessel, it proved to only result in fractional gains not worth even half the effort put in to achieve such. Baffled by the conclusions, many told her to simply enjoy what time she had left.

She pressed on, managing to keep her bundle of scrolls together as she reaches a rack filled with similar scrolls, most of which were labeled with a small name plate below the associated scroll. Tana shifted her gaze down at her armful of bound scrolls, having spent a hour rolling them up to bind them in a slip-on seal. Mostly the rolling gave her trouble, her hands holding a grudge against Tana by trembling every time she desired to use them. A doctor gave her the name of the disease, but it never stuck in her head. All she was worried about is putting the scrolls in their proper locations.

Thankfully, whoever made the seals was kind enough to put the title of the parchment onto them. The elf cautiously shifts the rolls of paper to one arm, swallowing lightly as she prepared for the maneuver. All she had to do is grab one... Read the seal, and find where it was suppose to be. Simple. However, when she reached for the first scroll, her body resisted.

The arm holding the scroll decided to loosen its grip, causing the scrolls to slip out of her control, scattering about at her feet. Tana's lips form into a soft frown, a deep sigh passing through her nose. Her motors skills were terrible, a dramatic change from her life before. Where she was an agile figure, able to scale buildings and apply her swift hands to her practice.

Just crouch down and pick them up, Tana. We used to do this out of habit, come on.

If only it were that simple for her now. Regardless, she had to pick them up one way or another, she wasn't going to wait for help. We can do it, just us. Tana, you can do it! I believe in you.

With a determined expression emerging from her face, she slowly began to bend her knees, holding out her arms to keep herself steady. Already the joints were beginning to protest by the movement, mild inflammation plaguing the elf daily, taking jabs at the woman whenever she attempted actions like this. By the grace of the Light, she was gifted with one vitue, a higher pain tolerance. By this time, she was nearly in arm's reach of her goal...

A sharp searing pain spiked her senses in her upper thigh, a soft yelp of surprise emitted from the woman's mouth. Her right leg buckled under her, causing the woman to fall straight down onto her rump. No! We're fine, get up! It's okay! Tana braced herself by throwing her hands backward, palms impacting on the hard floor. She winces as the slightest shift in the right leg sent her nerves screaming at the brain to stop. Just a pulled muscle, give it some time to work it out.

Memories. What little memories that were still embedded into her head were bitter-sweet to recall. Happier times showed wealth, a meal that sent her taste buds in a delighted shock, warm company in a bed too small for two occupants, and all the enjoyable and reckless times she spent with her sister. Most of which have faded to vague and fleeting images, and what ones she could remember taunted her with a life she had before. The events that are often clear a day are the ones filled with sorrow and agony, never failing to haunt her mind whenever it wonders. Experiencing death more than once, her ever decreasing ability to preform as a murderer, the mornings waking up to bottles of liquor and remains of drugs, and losing memory of what happened in her far past and if her sister was even alive. The perfect vision of hindsight torn her down, little by little, guilt and regret gnawing away at what sanity she had left.

Death was suppose to be a welcomed escape, but if there was one thing she keenly remembered, is that the ominous place her soul went sent her into trembling fits of horror and sobbing. While the details of how she was kidnapped and placed into the Shadow Realm were fuzzy, she knew that the death she suffered there was at the hands of warlocks. Then her soul returned, and all she felt was hate and agony. She didn't know what she was, but it all suddenly ceased when she was brought back to the Realm of Existence.

We're never going back there. Never.

But as Tana sat there, she understood that death would come to her sooner than later, and she would not be brought back against to defy it. Tana would die forever and linger in that twisted realm. Never will she have a normal life. She ruined her chance and now paid the price for her failures and poor choices.

Please stop crying...

[McKnighter]

Not too far away, in another den of similar emotions, a young masculine elf was laid up in a stack of fluffy pillows, trimmed and stylish per elven customs. The room was mostly dark, lacking a light source apart from the dim glow from his emerald eyes and a lit blunt in his hand. The bedroom was unkept and a general mess, worn clothes and loose parchment laying about, his bed appeared to have suffered from a maelstrom. Closer to the pillow throne, empty glasses and bottles of liquior were scattered around the elf. Most appeared to be long dry of any liquid, simply left there and was never picked up again.

Vath Morningsun was dressed in his typical nightwear, abyssal boxers and a baggy gray undershirt, its collar cutting down to his chest to show off a muscular core beneath. His equally black hair was plagued by the damage done when one sleeps restlessly in bed, mangled and sticking out in an uncivilized fashion. The elf held a firm grip onto two object, the rolled blunt of bloodthistle that he would take a puff of every once in a while, and a bottle of hard whiskey that he freely swigged. His Fel eyes were glazed over, the euphoria of both drink and drug letting him escape to a land where he could simply ponder about life. Specifically, his.

Images ran through his mind, all of it a mixture of past events. His memories produced fuzzy and vague events, but even in his intoxicated state, few managed to become clear in a horrifying fashion. A groan passes through his battle mage's lips, eyes wincing as the first picture popped into his head.

The visage of a former elven woman forced its way into his mind, her facial features twisted into a demonic aspect. Horns grew out of her skull, eyes blazing with unholy energies, skin dark and dry. Yet she smiled bitterly, eyes sorrowful as Vath's spellbladd cleaved into her neck, separating head from body. Leida, I'm so sorry. I tried to help you, but you went too far. I tried... I tried... You wouldn't listen, almost killed me. Father had me banished from the family, I wanted to save you and bring you back to him. I tried...

Another Sin'dorei lady appeared, however she was free of any Fel taint apart from her bright green eyes. Her smile and elegant expression brought a moment of joy, before being engulfed in darkness. Kari, I didn't mean to leave you like that. I had to find my sister, you understood, didn't you? Where did you go? I'm so sorry, I'll make it up to you. I won't ever leave you again. Please come back...

Screams and shouts of anguish bellowed out, as an elder man much similar to Vath howled in agony, hand clenched over his heart. He directed several destructive spells towards his son, his own eyes filled in horror of betrayal. We never liked each other pops, but did you have to try to kill me? I tried to pick your prized daughter back, I gave it my best shot! I just couldn't, I failed you, I will never live up to your expectations. You should have snuffed my life. I'm worthless...

The flood of sorrowful memories melted into a mush, as the young elf drank more from the bottle, desperate to coax himself back to a slumber. Tears trickled silently down his cheeks, his throat tighten as he sniffled. Only one thought managed to get pass his drugged down body before it slipped into an uneasy slumber.

Why didn't I let you?

[McKnighter]

"No, I don't want to move in with you, and I don't care that you're rejoining the Magistry. Congratulations, I guess."

A sulking elf that worn plain casual clothes by Silvermoon's standards was sitting in a chair. A ragged scar creep up from his collar and neared the right edge of his neck, a worn and rugged visage glared emerald orbs of light across the table. Muscular in build, the Blood Knight was armed with a single sheathed broadsword that bore the insignia of the order on the hilt of the blade. His lips formed a slight sneer as he stares at the woman seated at the other chair.

"Krian, I hope you are still not sore from what happened in the past. There is no time for grudges in the present, not while we have pressing matters to attend to. And I thought I would offer you a better place to stay, rather than that small commoner building you housed yourself into. Live like a Master for once, hm?"

Duskbinder manor was completely restored, having been in the Western Silvermoon district it was held back from repairs until more direct issues were resolved. It was a modest home, created by Noria's side of the family. Her side were the magisters and the bureaucrats, while Krian's kept to more practical work such as blacksmithing or being among the Farstriders. The two have kept their distance, due to some bad blood that ran between great grand parents.

The red haired lady was dressed in a white blouse and a black and gray vest that covered over it. Simple dark pants and shoes covered the lower half of her body. She seemed a bit older than most elves, either from age or stress. Noria has done her best to keep up her appearance, make-up to disguise her fading glory, keeping her hair in a bun for practical purposes. Her skin was much darker than the other elf, and her eyes were much brighter. Krian shrugs his shoulders, narrowing his eyebrows at the woman.

"I am still quite pissed off about that, and only you couldn't understand why I still am. Having memories wiped and mind 'adjusted' isn't exactly a pleasurable and happy experience. Even more so when I find out that it happened and I can't recall the memory that was tampered with! Do you know how frustrating that is? Not to mention how cruel and sick you must be to do something like that for a living!"

Krian's folded arms clenched down in sheltered anger, seething out with a sharp exhale. Noria simply entertained her hands with a glass of Dalaran Red, swurving the liquid around in a small rotation. "I did it for your own well being, Krian. No one should have to suffer like that, yet so many did. I try to help those that experienced this pain, and only forced it onto those that endangered others... Or themselves." The last words were pronounced directly towards the masculine Blood Knight, who swelled up further. He opened his mouth to speak but Noria interjected.

"Look, Krian. I'm not proud of what I did, but it was for the best. I volunteered to operate on you because you would have seriously injured yourself, maybe even worse if priests did not come to your aid in time. You have been drastically traumatized by your loss, it was the only way that would keep you mentally healthy enough to keep going."

Noria's soft smile was quickly retracted as Krian's hand slammed against the table. "You took away the last memories of my wife and child," he snarled, becoming red in the face. "What made you think you know what I'm going through? You've been around, never tied down and tried to raise a family. Never lost your own child, your pride and joy... You had no right! You should have let me do what I wanted!"

Noria sighs softly, taking a sip from her glass before she spoke. "So you die, and Light knows where your soul ends up. I don't believe there's a bright and happy end for us, judging by the Nether and all the demons that surge from it. Plus, there's another theory that I have been researching-" Krian groans loudly, rolling his eyes as he places his hand to face. The woman again lets her disappointment known.

"Regardless, I promise you I did the right thing. Aren't you now seeing that one priestess? Have you not put it behind you yet and moved on with your life? You're going to be happy again soon, dear. Just let time and that girl heal your heart wounds, I have done what I could to keep them from being fatal."

The sheer passiveness and lack of emotion in her words made the Blood Knight pause in his next rant, rubbing his eyes with a finger and a thumb. "I don't care if it was the right thing or not, you robbed me of who I am. What else did you change about me? Did you take out the thought to strangle you for doing this to me?" The threat was semi-serious, but he seemed frustrated enough to back it up.

"No, Krian. I simply adjusted your mind so that you would preform better and not form suicidal thoughts. Removing your memories of their passing was part of the method to heal you." An edge finally wedge itself into Noria's calm tone. "I have been trying to assist you, and you are always pushing me away. Why don't you accept my offer to become a regular patient? I promise it will help, and if you do... I may be persuaded to reverse my actions."

That seemed to perk Krian's interest, despite how morbid the memory would be. "How could you do that? You wiped it out of my mind." Noria simply shook her head.

"... Not exactly."