More pretty cloth!

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I made a transmog! Geez, I’ve really been radio silent here, huh? Sorry about that. Been busy RLing.

So this is my main’s new transmog. I got some Marks of Honor randomly from a WQ, and decided to use them on this lovely robe from WoD PvP. The rest kinda went from there. Hope it gave you some ideas!

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Dressing room link

Non-librarial lessons

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“Alv!” her brother almost shouted, shaking her shoulder. The mage dropped her quill with a start, staining the sheet of notes it had been hovering over.
“Lach,” she muttered, rubbing at her eyes. “What time is it?”
“Almost dawn. You… what’s going on? We haven’t heard from you in weeks. Mum’s worried.”
“You know how I get caught up in work. I wrote Mum…” She counted backwards in her head.
“4 weeks ago?” Lach helpfully provided. His eyebrows were raised to somewhere around his hairline.
“Crap,” she muttered, looking down at the massive ink stain that had made a good bit of her already messy handwriting ineligible. “I’ve been busy. You know how it is-” Read more

Kinda update?

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I’ve had an… interesting few weeks. A lot of things have emerged, about me, about my family, about who I want to be. But, as cheesy as it sounds, I think I’m moving in the right direction. I can see more than half a step ahead for the first time in a long while.

But enough about me! Or, at least the boring stuff about me, I could always spring a post on you about how my best friend since 2nd grade decided to set me up with a boy at the bakery (not a happy ending) or the time I snuck out at 3am in the morning and just sat on a bench for an hour because I am SO GODDAMN BORING OH MY GOD WHAT HAPPENED

*ahem* So I was thinking of getting into actual blogging. You know, with opinions, ranting (more than usual) bad sentence structure… Where was I going with this? Oh yes! So, since my fanfictioney creative juices have been running rather short, I’ll try to do, like, other stuff. For fun. I’ve heard blogging is fun, but people tell me a lot of crap 😀

So what do I do? I read a bunch of fanfic, I write crazy shit as it runs out of my brain screaming, I play some video games, read literature, TV shows… The real question is, what would you like to see? Because if I get no feedback, oh imaginary readers, I will simply have to start talking about DA:I romances. And you do NOT want that.

Psssst! Read this if you like McHanzo at all, it’s adorable!

The Whispers of Aluneth

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Every single vein was visible beneath the translucent skin of her wrist, even clearer than they had been just a few weeks before under the candlelight. You should go outside more, Alvie. Dropping her quill with a sigh, she blew on the sheet of notes she’d been jotting down from a heavy historical tome in an attempt to dry the ink. She’d been researching the effects of arcane addiction in dwarves. Humans were very well researched, as were multiple types of elves, but apparently no one had thought to consider half her heritage. Or if they had, it had not been deemed fit to be included into the libraries of Dalaran. Read more

Blackrock Plotting, Part IX: Recovery

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“I think she’s waking up,” a slightly familiar voice growled distantly.
“Let the girl sleep, Cleese. She has been through a lot,” the silvery notes of an elf replied.
“Don’t I know it…” the worgen said with a sigh.

The next time she opened her eyes, she was in a dreadfully soft bed, located in a startlingly bright room. Stirring slightly, she felt a lance of pain in her side, making her whimper in surprise. Someone was there. A calloused yet soft hand giving hers a gentle squeeze. It was smaller than those of humans.
“Mum?” she asked in surprise.
“Rest, my little Alfhilda. Just rest. You’re safe here.”
“I can’t, mum, I need to know,” she muttered insistently. Only her mother and grandmother called her Alfhilda. Rhonwen gave a little chuckle at that, her green eyes lighting up in amusement.
“Och, you’ve always been a stubborn wee one. Spit it out, lass. What do you want to know?”
“Lach… is he…?”
“Your brother is right here. He is badly hurt, but he’ll recover. We always do in our family. Tali’s in the roost. I got here as soon as I could. I’d be more worried about myself if I were you,” she muttered with a hint of reproach.
“Thank you, mum…” she whispered, already drifting away.

“Al-wil-da, is it?” a stern voice demanded, later. She felt as if she’d been asleep for years. “How are we feeling?” The girl forced open her eyelids, but the world remained a blur.
“Uh, who are you?”
“You can call me Madam Harrison. Now would you kindly answer my question?”
“I’m, uh, all right, I suppose…”
“Hmm…” the matron responded, pulling up the girl’s thin nightgown for a look at her bandages.
“No swelling, that’s good… Not a lot of blood… Let me see your ankle.” She obediently raised it up, subjecting it to a series of rather painful prods.
“Much better than last time I was here… You seem to be healing splendidly.” She poked a bit along the cut on her throat as well, tsk-ing when she found some infection.
“How long do I have to stay here?” Alvilda asked through gritted teeth, having bit back a handful of cries during her ‘examination’.
“From the current look of things… I’d say you should be out of here in a few weeks.”
WEEKS?!” she cried out in surprise.
“You have sustained a broken ankle, a rather deep laceration across your throat, which could damage your windpipe if left unchecked, and an axe to the side. You will get out of here when I find it appropriate.”
“Where is ‘here’, anyway?” the girl asked sullenly.
“Why, you’re in the Royal Infirmary of Stormwind.”
“Oh… You’re the people who believe in ‘medicine’ above healing.” The matron didn’t respond to that, writing something on a notepad at the foot of her bed.
“Can I see my brother?” she asked hopefully, putting a pleading tone in.
“Beckett, Lachlan, is that him?” The girl nodded in agreement.
“He was here in intensive care for a few days, then released to the military yesterday. I have no further information.”
“Can I talk to my mom, then? I must be allowed to have visits!”
“She can see you on the morrow. It is past dusk, young lady, visiting hours are over.”
“Tomorrow, then,” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest and wincing as it stretched something in her wound. The matron left the room without another word.

“Mum!” she shouted when the short, stout figure entered the room the next morning. After forcing down tasteless gruel for breakfast and another examination, she needed a friendly face. She made a brief effort to rise, but gave up as her side protested loudly.
“You’ve got tah be more careful, lass,” her mother fussed, pushing her down on the bed.
“No use in you splitting yourself apart ‘cause you couldn’t wait for your body to heal.”
“Mum, you’ve got tah get me out of here, that wendigo of a matron’s driving me up tah wall,” she pleaded, defaulting to the dwarven tones of her childhood.
“I’ll see what I can do…” Rhonwen promised. “I’m so proud of you, wee one. Charging in like that to save your brother.” The girl smiled, allowing a pat on her cheek. Rhonwen sighed, fiddling with a braided lock of her short hair. “You were so brave. But you also scared me half to death!” she added with a chortle, displaying her strong teeth.
“How’s Lach?” Alvilda asked quietly.
“He’s with the agency now. Last I saw ‘im, he seemed to be recoverin’. Those nasty gashes of his were scabbing.”
“And his..?”
“They saved the rest of the hand. He’s already itchin’ to pick up those short-swords of his again, the silly lad.”
“That does sound like him,” the girl admitted with a smile. “Can I see him?”
“I’ll tell him you asked for ‘im. If I know your brother, he’ll come running through the streets to see ya. He’s in better shape than you are, lass.”
“What did the SI:7 tell you?” she whispered.
“Everythin’ they know. They told me those blasted Dragonmaw had taken Lach captive, and that you snuck away in the night to come get ‘im. You managed tah break him out, but got hurt on the way. The SI:7 squad picked you up and took you back to Stormwind. I left first thing after I got the message Lach had gone missing. I was here before you were. They told me… terrible things. What they did to you….”
“I’m not sure… you know it all.” She was barely audible now, fighting back tears. Rhonwen pulled her into a careful embrace, patting her hair.
“Och, little one. It hurts. But you did what you had to.” The woman pulled away, a sudden hardness in her eyes. “You brought your brother home. That’s what matters. You both got out. You’re safe.”
“You didn’t see their faces… They were afraid, of me.”
“My prey used to fear me. They were right to do so.” The huntress sighed deeply, giving her hand a pat. “You know I do nae like to talk about my wars. But it’s your turn now, tho I love it not. You will have to make sacrifices, to do what is necessary instead o’ what is good. I wish I could keep both of ya away from all o’ this…”
“I know, mum. I know.”
“You are going to heal, my girl. We all do. But take care to not get too many scars,” the dwarf advised, squeezing her daughter’s hand.

Before <—-     Timeline for Alvilda’s adventures    —-> After

An Update

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So, uh, I don’t have anything ready for this week. I’m sorry. This breaks an almost three-month streak of a new fiction post every Tuesday afternoon. I’m having some trouble finishing the story of Alvie and her brother lost in Blackrock Mountain, and I want to finish it right. I hope you can understand. The rest of this will be me rambling about my health and hobbies, so skip it if you aren’t interested. Read more