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Journal: The Day After

[written in the Scourge tongue while laying in Rose’s bed, probably much to her frustration]

I suppose I should write something, if only to clear my mind. I’m not sure what to think, after last night and the conversations this morning. It’s not often I’m pleasantly surprised by someone, but Traejan did truly surprise me. This is probably a first, going from being mostly enemies to him kissing me.

Even though he was drunk, he did kiss me. He remembers it, doesn’t regret it. That’s…interesting. I never would have thought him even interested in that sort of thing, even a few months ago. Not just because we’ve been at each other’s throats, but because I didn’t think him interested in kissing men. I was shocked he only expressed disappointment that I’d left him to grab Rosefica. I *pen taps*

It brings with it a whole host of questions. He was good, very good, at kissing. I should have expected it, given the romance novels that Rose and the others have read, but it truly caught me by surprise. Honestly, I think if Rose hadn’t reached for me when she did, I’d have stayed in his arms, and that leads me to my curiosity.

I’ve found myself wondering, off and on, what it would have been like had we not been interrupted. I’m not *pen taps* I’m not inexperienced when it comes to men, for all that I prefer women, but it’s Traejan and I don’t know what to think about that.

Not that I have feelings beyond the purely carnal. I love Rose. I can see myself spending the rest of my life with her. Traejan? He piques my curiosity as others have in the past, meaningless flings with mutual satisfaction the only goal.

For now, I suppose, what happens will happen. I was the only sober one last night, and maybe, perhaps, he only remembers muddied bits and pieces of what happened. It may not be repeated, or it may come up again. I’ll play it by ear.

The Invasion

The voice. The voice was in his mind, directing him. It was overwhelming. Almost as overwhelming as the Hunger. It ate at him, through every pore and every fiber of his new being. New, yes. He was brand new. He knew he had a life before the voice in his mind, before his Master who directed and praised his actions, but it was like a dream, insubstantial as a cloud and just as fleeting in the face of the Endless Hunger.

He trudged along in the wake of the massive war engines, the patchwork creatures made of decaying flesh and blood and bone, the shambling army of undead, and somewhere far ahead, his Master, his King.

That’s just Prince Arthas. A babe. A brat. The traitorous thought was swept away in a tide of Hunger. There was a memory, a dream of another place, a shining city full of humans, far away from the forest they marched through. Closer, an estate in those very woods, where….someone, several someones close to him lived. He wanted for a mad moment to find them, to show them how well they all marched, but the Hunger overrode that mad thought. He knew where they’d be hiding, the secret cellar under the kitchen stairs, the small cavity they hid bloodthistle and their secret books from the Magistry. No. No, they weren’t hiding any longer, the voice assured him. Nothing lived at the estate anymore.

The Endless Hunger was like a living thing within him, his entire body cried out in agony as they marched, and when the gates of Silvermoon City crashed down in the face of the Scourge war machine, he flowed through the wreckage along with everyone else, screaming with the rest.

Chasing a fleeting shadow with a mane of long, dark hair through the streets, past a bakery…

Aegnas woke with a start. For a frenzied moment, he thought the Hunger was upon him for real, as the memory of that dark-haired shape merged with the very real dark-haired beauty asleep on his shoulder. Then the dream began to fade, the pain of the remembered Hunger to ease, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He disentangled himself from Rosefica and grabbed his pants from where he’d tossed them the night before.

He needed coffee after that dream.

RP Log: Aegnas and Traejan

Aegnas 11:25 pm
    Aegnas flew to the mountains separating Nagrand and Zangarmarsh. The plateau he chose was just north-west of Garadar. From the edge, he could see the orc village. It made him frown. The orc patrols might see them if they weren’t careful.
    
    Aegnas’s armor was his usual bright blue set, with the crown over his brow. The runeblades in his hands, however, were new. They had skulls incorporated into the hilt, and the blades were long and serated. The runes he’d engraved into the saronite were very visible, brand new and not yet worn with use. Considering their age, only a few days old, there was an oddly-strong aura of malice around them. They’d be strong if they continued to feed.
    
    While Aegnas was now pale, gray-skinned since he’d destroyed his crystal runeblades, he moved with a grace and surety that spoke of his recovery. He scanned the skies, looking for Traejan’s frostwyrm.

 Traejan 11:37 pm
    Traejan had approached from the direction of Shattrath, flying high to avoid being noticed by the orcs and then circling down, coming to land once he had spotted Aegnas. He dismounted along with the skeleton that clung to the beast’s spines as it always did, the drake uttering a low rumble before it moved off to wait until he called upon it again.
    
    He wore the same armour he had been seen in most recently, the green-tinted plate with the scale detail and the enchanted maws on either pauldron, occasionally opening wider as the brightly glowing tongue darted out. His black tabard and the metal itself was dotted with blood spatter, reddish-brown caked most heavily into the detailing on his gauntlets, particularly where the metal on the fingertips curved down slightly to add something of a claw-like effect. His hands rested on his blades which he hadn’t drawn just yet. He wore his goggles which effectively hid his eyes, his expression otherwise set in a grim frown as he studied the other death knight, noting his appearance and the new blades.
    
    “… I’m sure there’s some interesting tale behind whatever happened to you. But it hardly matters.”

 

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