Grounded

As predicted D.A. will join me when it is time to travel to the Black Temple again. Clearly this is not ideal given the number of guards and how violently I was expelled from the place. But I am trying to accept that there are some activities that, despite the risk, are best done in partnership. And of course I will be present to provide protection.

Moreover there is a complication that my beloved did not consider until I mentioned it. I carry mixed feelings about it. For one feeling, it keeps D.A. safe within my reach. For the other there is a large world to explore together and this I would very much enjoy doing one day. But D.A. is afraid to fly.

By most standards flight is a necessary and practical method of travel. The carriage I intended to utilize for this in order to preserve comfort and nerves. But it is another thing entirely to roll up to the Black Temple with a team that is easily seen and demolished. By land alone considerable distance and danger is involved as well, so I must devise a plan in order to accomplish this.

Ineffective

After no communication from Nemeiah regarding her state or the situation at Tyr’s Hand, my patience expired and I ventured there myself. A few days earlier I had spoken to Kruega and encouraged him to poke about and visit to see if Nem was well. My scheme formed because Nem had not discouraged him directly as she had me. Fortunately, I do not think he had yet gone.

I was dismayed by what I found. The gates were splintered and broken and Nem had barricaded herself in her room at the abbey. I did not go inside for worry that they may try to trap me there as well, but tapped on her window to gain her attention.

We spoke through the painted glass. Nem told me that she had been attacked and when I inquired, mentioned that guards had been given to watch her. It was extremely dissatisfying. I thought of the Bishop: the man who is supposed to protect her and his inability or incompetence in doing so. But I held my anger for a few more moments to ask if there was any way to help. She was frightened but told me only to take care of myself. So the true answer was that I could do nothing.

When I departed I loosed my temper and hunted Scourge all about the area until I could find no more. Though I doubt that it truly dampened the threat to Nem but destroying them did calm my rage. Then, I returned to Orgrimmar and demanded to speak to Kruega. Pip called him via their tribal talisman and with Urukha near I told him to stay away from Tyr’s Hand. He seemed out of sorts but acknowledged the message.

Urukha was not appeased. In her position now she must know of the dangers that face her Tribe brothers and sisters and I did not offer details at first. We met yesterday in the Regent’s study and I told her what occured. And I advised that she not muster any energy to involve herself or the Tribe (particularly during the Regent’s absence). But she was difficult and stubborn.

Consistency

With the Regent attending to family affairs Urukha has been given the charge of leading the Tribe. I first verified with her that she had received communication from the Regent prior and knew more of the circumstances than were expressed openly.

With any imposed responsibility there is a tendency toward doubt. We spoke in brief regarding the situation and I gave as much encouragement as seemed appropriate. Both of us acknowledged that there were traits desirable to a leader that were not readily available in others and that the goal is actually quite simple. Keep everything stable. Though this may not be as simple in practice given the disruptive tendencies of some Tribe members – due to lacking the aforementioned traits.

I told her of Mirtai and how my former rival craves constancy. Even now when there are things to fear she functions with the certainty of her specific place under my aegis. But I refuse to have her call me anything other than Annjia. Out of the same desire for consistency. I believe she does stop herself from referring to me as “my lady” at times however. It is odd.

Welcome Home

There is a moment each day of such simple but palpable joy that I am compelled to try and understand it. It is when I return home and exchange greetings with my beloved. I knock on the study door; that voice answers and I enter to receive a smile and embrace. On occasion I am welcomed at the stairs or (if I have done something particularly charming) at the front door.

There are several elements to it that make this daily moment meaningful. The first is a mutual desire for the other’s company. The second is a necessary distance or absence for a time. The final element is the effort made to return to that spot despite difficulty, duration or geographic separation.

The second and third are standard. The first however was not the simplest to encourage, though one might think it would be. Vividly do I recall how often I would engineer ways to spend nights and days away from Tirisfal, both yearning and loathing to return. And when I did, Viere dismissed me again once he had no more need or attention to give. I learned that this was how a pair acted with each other: he could continue his work and I would not interrupt or distract for sentimentality’s sake.

When D.A. and I began to grow close I very nearly upset everything by demonstrating this pattern. I thought I was supposed to keep distant but D.A. desired the opposite. It was extremely confusing. With time and coaxing however I have adopted the same wish and it contributes to the happiness found daily with those common words, “Welcome home.”

Away

I wrote to Nemeiah in the hope of learning whether she was well or that it was safe to return to Tyr’s Hand. No response has been received. The Regent also wrote to inform me of “family issues” that would keep her away from the Tribe and from me for a time. Urukha spends her days in Outland and her nights in Winterspring in order to maintain her myriad duties.

I chatted with Caelyssa in Orgrimmar and she admitted that she appeared only because a need to escape from other difficulties. Vivvienne departs for a sojourn called a “summer vacation.” Even Kruega, the tauren Sunwalker is actively pursuing answers regarding a former acquaintance who had been installed with some strange machinery. 

It is curious that sometimes when seeking solitude there are those that violate it and give their company regardless. But sometimes when company is sought, most everyone is away. For those that journey, I hope that they return sound.

Folly

I ventured to Shadowmoon Valley in pursuit of the last item needed to defeat the enemy. The translated name of the item is a Soul Anchor. According to my beloved’s research it is hidden somewhere in what is now called the Black Temple; the former stronghold of the first demon hunter, Illidan Stormrage.

It is also a place that Nemeiah has expressed an interest in seeing. It was once the Temple of Karabor and a bastion of the Light long ago. So I gathered up the goblin photocamera as an additional weapon. Only a few images could I take however due to the dimness of the region and the many unsavory sorts that patrolled. Mayhem also did not appreciate my maneuvering and then holding him still in order to utilize the mechanism when there were hostile fliers in the sky.

I discovered the folly of the endeavor soon after landing. There was a place on the northern wing identified from books and maps that appeared most promising. But I was discovered and then attacked by the fanatical denizens. Retreat was the superior option then and I received damage.

Failure is not pleasant, and it is even less so when I fail my beloved. But when I knelt I received kind words and reassurance, as well as care for my wounds. Somehow this will be accomplished, “together,” as my darling claimed. I did not realize precisely what was meant then but now calculate that D.A. plans to accompany me on a return venture. There is no argument that I could muster now in opposition. It must be done.

Canning

This is the preservation of food by sealing it into pressurized jars for later consumption. While I cannot completely trust her candor the Regent seems extremely interested in this. I thought it a bit silly to pack away things for later when the seasons change and new things will be available. Why endure the trouble of storing it?

We engaged in a fairly intense argument on the subject and she called forth examples of the Shu’halo tribes who keep food for the lean months. Or the Tribe itself would gather a harvest and then use the produce later when certain sorts of crops do not grow.

The Regent thought that my conservative tendencies would morph into an interest in canning. When I asked if chocolate could be preserved thus, she revealed that it couldn’t. Unless in syrup form, which is not as desirable. So I rebutted. I do think that some of the combativeness may have been exaggerated for the sake of entertainment. And ultimately I do not require food so storing it away would be a misuse of energy.

But later I thought of the others in my household, and how they must eat. Pride may not permit me to ask the Regent for more information on canning, but Mirtai could find it interesting and appropriate for her domestic labors. Even if I still think it is silly.

Restraint

I have managed to annoy myself. There were Alliance in Orgrimmar and I did not kill them. They had taken up a place by a pond that was out of sight of the guards and were fishing. A worgen and a human in leathers. Worgens I do not generally interact with unless in a declared battle. Humans stink of filth, but the wolf-people of Gilneas reek of taints and curses.

When I approached I spied an insignia on the worgen for the group that co-occupies Tyr’s Hand with the Bishop’s team. Nemeiah had mentioned that several of them she was becoming familiar with and I wondered if this was one of those. Because of the uncertainty, I did not attack. But when I drew closer they spotted me.

I waited for them to defend themselves with violence, but they waved in friendly fashion, then continued to fish and chat quietly in Common. When I displayed a tense posture the worgen set out a piece of chocolate cake as though it was a bribe to not hurt them. I accepted it and let them be.

In retrospect I regret not attacking them as a Horde soldier should have. When I fought Violet-Eyes in Gilneas it was because I had entered her territory and she was protecting her home. These two clearly violated the Horde’s territory and I should have acted in accordance with my duty. But if one of them was a friend of Nem’s then I would have felt remorse for causing her trouble. Unfortunately it is impossible to know for certain whether restraint was the proper behavior or not.

Breaking Through

I told Nemeiah about Viere. Not in any great detail of course, but she is preparing to say goodbye to someone who occupied a similarly conflicting role in her existence. When I began to describe the end of things with him, she said that my life was private and that she should not pry. My reaction was a powerful compulsion to reveal more.

The reason I think is because her experience carries commonality. And I have not met anyone else (aside from Mirtai) who comes quite as close to comprehension. Even my beloved cannot know beyond what I express, and that may be more in substance and emotion, but less in understanding. This is not a fault though; it is due to lack of direct exposure to a situation like this as Nem and I have.

When Nem decides where and how to conduct the ceremony I will attempt to accompany her as requested. What I hesitate to advise her on is that while my farewell to Viere was necessary and potent it did not end the struggle. But her capacity to forgive is greater.

Unfortunately, another attack outside of Tyr’s Hand has set these plans away for now. Nemeiah was damaged when attempting to retrieve the only survivor and bids me to avoid the area. So once more we rely on letters to communicate.

Whisper and Ruin

"May your enemies flee from you my love, and may your feet be swift in their pursuit."

When searching for the texts ultimately retrieved from sunken ruins in Azshara, I also discovered a set of weapons. These I did not mention before because they were only objects that required a great deal of cleaning. But once Nathan restored them my beloved took interest in the runes etched on the blades.

One is a sword and the other a dagger. They are a pair and quite fascinating in design. After a great deal of study D.A. declared that these were the discarded weapons of a demon hunter. The dagger, named Whisper, my beloved keeps. The sword, presented to me in formal fashion with invocation and a kiss to my head, is Ruin. Their names are delightfully appropriate for our respective talents. Yet I sustain no pretense of actually being a hunter; a weapon does not make the entire warrior.

But there is one more item to be obtained before facing the enemy. When the image was shown to me I could not refrain from shuddering. It is designed to banish a demon from the corporeal realm and if used improperly, it could do the same to me. I do not relish the thought of using it. If it does destroy the enemy however it will be well worth the discomfort.

Update #8

With the warmer weather of early summer my garden is suddenly very crowded. The apple tree has flowered and the Gilnean rosebush displays buds. In addition to the other plants that express themselves with color and sprouts. It is rather overwhelming in a way. With all of the other tasks I have time only to keep it minimally maintained and I do not have a plan for the surge of blooms and apples. The others would likely ridicule me if they knew my bewilderment.

In Orgrimmar I brought ice cream to Nemeiah. Taste is a sense that few Forsaken have with full functionality but I was not certain if she would be able to experience some of it. She could, to a muted degree and enjoyed it. When I mentioned that I knew someone who could make it (Pip), she asked me to request a sum of it on her behalf to share with the others at Tyr’s Hand. This I did and Urukha obliged.

Archer, the dark-haired man of Tyr’s Hand suggested that I join the Gauntlet. That is the official name of the Bishop’s group. He said that they could use an extra axe or two, and a “friendlier death knight.” Likely he referred to Roeth as the standard. I did not respond due to the absurdity of the idea. As I think of of both of them, Archer reminds me of Westel and not simply because both are bowmen.

At the last Tribe meeting I was chosen randomly to answer a question each from those present. The purpose of this game is to discover more about each of the Tribe members and for amusement. Urukha and the Regent could have easily unsettled me but neither did. Kuvasei asked how I felt about demons. My favorite question though came from Whiteclaw: “Kill the wolf, or lead the sheep to safety?” Of course, kill the wolf. And that is also how I feel about certain demons.

Run the Rapids

Yesterday it was again my turn to prepare an outing with the Regent. I chose to move away from intrigue and drama to exercise and conversation. The activity involved utilizing my frosted footsteps spell and running upon river rapids in Darkshore. The challenge: to remain balanced and not fall in.

We chatted until we arrived at the headwaters on the beach. The shattering of the world opened a gash in the land that cuts east and then north until it terminates at a massive inland waterfall and maelstrom. 

The Regent dropped into the water during one of the early, shallow stretches of rapids but kept her footing the rest of the way. I was not so talented near the end. Taken down by the strong current I grabbed a rock only a few meters from the brink of the great falls. She assisted in pulling me from the torrent and made some series of quips that I cannot recall now. The intent may have been to focus and settle my mind and was successful if so.

From there we climbed up and onto another rock in a different river that also dipped over into the maelstrom. It provided a lovely view of the main waterfall. However, after a short discussion she stood and stepped very close to the edge of the cliff. Having nearly gone over the side a few minutes before this caused me great anxiety. But the Regent would not retreat despite attempts to distract her with conversation.

When she tested my resolve I threw her back from the brink without grace or ceremony. She was displeased, but so was I. She placated me with assurances, jokes and guile. After departing I realized that she had worn that blasted victorious smirk on her face again. 

Holding Back

There is a common accusation I receive from several among my friends and acquaintances. It can best be exemplified in a conversation with another death knight, one that I had just met. He remarked first that I was quiet for an Elf. When pressed he stated that those that were talkative did not have good stories. Because I was silent this meant that I must have interesting things to say. I told him it was not so.

But it is not solely with strangers that there is a tendency toward being conservative. Nem said the other day that it seemed as though I “held back.” The Regent delights in tricking information from me. And Westel pestered until he learned something that he did not know already.

Some of this likely originates from curiosity. But I am also aware of the social requirements regarding the sharing of personal history. More often it is simpler to extract this knowledge from others because they are eager to talk of themselves. Only later, if at all, do they realize the imbalance. Westel noted it specifically once and it may influence current discussions.

Is there a cause for not speaking of myself? Yes. 

Unchanging Stripes

While on the outing with the Regent, I represented an individual that rehabilitated zhevras (the odd one, as mentioned before). While it is not worthwhile to record how this was portrayed, one common observance was that zhevras have black and white stripes, or white and black, depending on the perspective. Individuals also have them in the form of behaviors and tendencies that, despite circumstances, may not change.

There are several in my acquaintance who have seen and endured the stripes of their closest companion. And they have made their choice to remain with them regardless, or face that decision now. One example of the latter is Nemeiah, having recently received communication from her former fiancé. I call him Meade.

Meade was ordered away to war, or so he told Nem. Yet I believe that he made the choice of duty over love for her. And thus forfeited any claim on her affection. She does not yet know what his intent is in contacting her again but I suspect that once he bothers to speak to her he will attempt to renew their relationship. It is then her decision whether or not to allow it.

I am concerned that preservation of the (past) situation will obscure the grief of prior failings. And journal, you know that it is not solely Nem that is challenged thus. But on those others I have already written at length and tire of spending ink and words on the subject.

For now, for all of them, it appears to be a matter of stripes turning from black on white, to white on black with no real discernible change to the pattern. And they let themselves be told that it “is different now.”

Role-playing

The Regent and I adorned ourselves in persona and costume and ventured to Silvermoon for last week’s outing. Her character was of a very happy person, a track racer, while I was supposed to be an odd zhevra rehabilitation specialist. We wandered about the city and disturbed many denizens with our conversation.

One gentleman in particular with garish red pants found the attention aggravating. He seemed to think us annoying, yet refused to walk away because he had nothing else to entertain himself with. Another man walked up and defended us in charming fashion. As I consider it, all of those we interacted with were men. Curious.

It was difficult to remain within the role when the red-panted man grew agitated however. No weapons were drawn (which amused the Regent later, calling us “harmless ninnies”) but had he become violent the ruse would not have been my prime concern. 

Still, despite efforts the Regent rated my performance as satisfactory. Which may mean that she will wish to do this again. I am not certain I am so excited for the prospect.

Awkward

Nathan and Mirtai are acting strangely. They hardly look at each other, and avoid conversation. He also avoids entering the house now unless I or D.A. specifically request it. I am able to determine when the change began, but do not understand what happened.

When my beloved and I were absent from the manor to tour the ruins of Medivh’s castle, Nathan and Mirtai were left without supervision. Upon our return, I discovered Nathan’s hat in Mirtai’s room on her nightstand. The explanation mustered from both was that they had only talked.

Her demeanor has always been submissive but the uncertainty and discomfort Mirtai displayed concerned me. I felt obligated to determine (in private) whether he had acted unseemly or harmed her. She assured me that they had not quarreled. Also, she claimed that he had entered the room at her invitation and behaved chivalrously. But stopped her description there. She then asked that I not say anything to him. To be truthful I am quite suspicious because Mirtai has never called anyone "chivalrous."

While I expressed that her business is her own, I reminded my former rival that if Nathan did behave badly I would pummel him. For now, she did not think this necessary. It does seem as though something more than the “talking” they both claim happened, happened. But this does not seem normal behavior.

However they will not have opportunity to resolve things alone for some time. After I offered another date to the Faire, D.A. gently refocused my attention on current needs. I do not think it likely we will venture out together again until after the enemy is defeated.

Polyamorous

By definition, this is a term for one that keeps multiple lovers. There may also be a marriage, legal attachment or vow associated with one or more of these partners. It seems to be very common while the opposite: a lifetime committed to one individual is rare. Some cultures do promote this as a norm and it what many are accustomed to. Westel called it “in style,” and I believe that this is a perceptive description.

Unlike clothing that may change with the season however, my opinion is that a polyamorous scenario may lead to great emotional damage. When multiple partners compete for attention, jealousy manifests. When someone accustomed to freedom is limited, or when one desiring singular devotion endures a wandering partner, conflict arises.

Astoreth and Coilla are among those that embrace(d) this, though Westel also did for a time according to his own admission. To this list I add Pip, but not Urukha. And then there was Viere.

Pip I mention because she refused to renounce oaths to a still-living lifemate when joining with Urukha. Coilla maintained three lovers at once for a brief time (my darling has an amusing term for this that I should not record here). Astoreth, I am told, was married and with permission pursued other interests; her husband did the same.

Viere does not entirely fit the definition, though of course he already had Mirtai before I entered the arrangement. Because of him my opinion carries the influence of emotions and not calculated logic. Being polyamorous is not my preference now, nor ever was it. I believe there is a greater challenge of character, will and ability with a single worthy partner. The difficulty is discovering one person that deserves that faith and regard.

The Darkrider and the Holy One

Yesterday I spotted the Holy One in Dalaran, where she resides. I did not approach in order to prevent her sensing my presence and summoning the deadly Darkrider. She appeared remarkably rested, and given the lack of presence in Orgrimmar, I wonder if she and her comrades have withdrawn utterly from combat. She is a paladin, a red-haired Elf with the capacity to heal, and he is a death knight, dark-skinned like I, with black hair.

The two I met while with Viere. They had uncovered a tome of knowledge regarding the demented god Yogg-Saron, and Viere wanted that book. They had given it to a brittle apothecary in the Dark Lady’s city, and I removed it from him with violence. But I did not kill. Instead, I told him where the others could pursue me, with the hope of drawing them into the labyrinth so that they could do what I could not. Destroy Viere.

But the plan failed. I was compelled to defend the place and easily the Darkrider, with the Holy One supporting him, defeated me. Viere escaped and my betrayal was revealed (likely due to Mirtai's observation). After that everything became worse.

There were other incidents since that reinforced the enmity between myself and this pair, including the destruction of the greatwolves. So I avoid both. 

Tacky

Preparations are underway for the next outing with the Regent. As with the journey to Acherus, some things must be obtained in advance. First in collaboration, the Regent constructed an enormous list of traits and features. Then we utilized dice to decide which each of us would take.

The idea is to adopt a different persona, or “role” and then “play” it in public. I explained that I was no actress but she seems enamored with the concept. It seems a bit silly and undignified. The clothing chosen for my persona is horrendous, but that is what the dice selected. I give some thought to the portrayal now.

Pick Your Pain

When I traveled to Tyr’s Hand to visit Nemeiah, the conversation turned to the effect that the Light has on Forsaken. As I may have written before, undead Light-wielders experience pain when utilizing or contacting Holy energies. Nem endured this frequently while deployed to the Vanguard due to healing the injured.

We also spoke of how each of us managed the particular difficulties associated with undeath, and she ascertained my meaning when I mentioned the need for “activity.” Or as it is also known, the endless hunger. This requires death knights to inflict suffering in order to avoid madness and pain.

She claimed that she had no rightful complaint about discomfort from the Light when I was subject to this. I disagreed. I told her that she could always choose to not utilize her power and thus not suffer the effects. She refused this option. No explanation did she offer, but I understood that her desire to assist outweighs the urge for self-preservation.

When she asked if it was the “same” for me, I did not understand the question. Reflecting, I believe she may have wondered if I could choose to not cause suffering, as she could choose to not heal others. But it is not possible.

How ironic that one receives pain to help others, and the other inflicts harm on others in order to suppress it within herself. When asked, Nem offered assurances that this did not affect her view of me.

((Sources:  “When undead use or are healed by the Holy Light, does it cause them actual damage or harm, or does it only cause them pain (addition to the intended effects of the spell)?”

“Are blood elf death knights still afflicted by their racial addiction to magic?”

Ask Creative Development – Round II Answers. http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/2721372142.))

Past Mercies

Lately I have considered the decision to allow Viere to live. In spite of my beloved encouraging me to not think of it at all. Certainly he deserved to die, but I chose to fight him with fists rather than blade. The damage I inflicted was not lethal. Perhaps the mercy of it sprang from a desire to watch him struggle without me, though I do not dismiss the possibility that anger clouded clear judgment.

I had little time to act compared to the long time to build resentment.

However if I had been thorough and he died then, Maag and Mirtai would be gone. Viere would not have attempted to summon the Nath’rezim that tormented my beloved and destroyed Mira. A great many things would be different. The true question though is whether it would be better.

But that question may be dismissed entirely if I am able to destroy the enemy. All remaining legacies and inherited suffering will be eased. Only memory would endure. It will not restore those that have been lost or damaged, but at the least there may be a chance for peace.

New Armor

“Piecemeal” is not a word one likes to hear when one’s appearance is described. While it seems a bit unfair that armor should be subject to the same fashion requirements as other garments, eventually pride caused me to notice the flaws.

I ordered a different design with the intent of unifying the colors. The armor itself is as effective as the original but is lacking the mismatched components. I decided also, for the present, to use the cloak that Urukha crafted for me some time ago. The result received favorable remarks from the Regent (though she did grumble that there was “extra defense against attentions” as she called it). So I am satisfied.

Eyes Dark as Sin

After weeks of searching for tomes, working to accumulate materials for sale and providing protection for this household, my body displays wear and tires. For my beloved also the many hours each day spent in seclusion and study have enacted a toll. In order to alleviate this I offered a time for respite. Or as it is also called, a date.

Despite my poor skill at presenting the idea D.A. accepted with eagerness. And so last night we rode to the ruins of Medivh’s castle in Deadwind Pass. I have seen it many times before but my darling had not, and gazed at it in wonder. We explored the interior: the ballrooms, passages, dining areas and myriad staircases until finding our way to the concert hall.

I had a bit more planned and when D.A. mentioned a wish to see something performed, I placed an envelope on my chair and then dashed down to the stage. There I recited lines from the story of Romulo and Julianne to my beloved. To my surprise and delight, D.A. then proclaimed poetry to me in return! Not the borrowed words of dead writers, but self-composed at that instant and perfectly matched to the grand hall. I swiftly improvised in response.

Carried across the space from stage to balcony, we pronounced our adoration and devotion; as though we made love with words alone.

Of course this needed conclusion and I was bid to return to the balcony. I disapproved of all the bloody stairs on the path between. But when arrived, I revealed the last part of the plan and my beloved opened the envelope. Contained within was no more than a single slip of paper that conveyed the concrete results of these weeks of labor. As I had pledged.

My beloved’s reaction was different from what I expected, but no less pleased. All that I required and desired for reward though, was in those dark eyes.

Caelyssa Sin'dal

She is an Elven huntress with dark red hair and is sometimes accompanied by a shadowy white tiger. Currently an initiate of the Tribe, we were first introduced during a training run (read: scampering about the Barrens, carrying boulders and jumping off of cliffs) with Uwharrie. I also mentioned her during the incident when several Tribe members became rabbits.

From our conversations it seems that she is less accustomed to Orgrimmar but is disenchanted with Silvermoon, the Elvish capitol. I showed her the waterfalls in the Valley of Wisdom, which is ironically – or appropriately – the least frequented area of the city. But most of the time I spot her she is either at a Tribal event or by the pond in the Valley of Honor. She seems to prefer running about without a great deal of armor.

When speaking to her though I am impressed by her articulateness and ability to think abstractly. She matches individual personalities and animal traits, and has attributed respective beasts to various members of the Tribe. Like the nicknames I once fashioned. I asked her to tell me of some of the animals chosen to represent her fellow Tribe without disclosing their identities. Fox, wolf, lions, a bear, snake and raptor were those mentioned.

Touch

“Please do not touch me.”

There are times when I wish that this message was emblazoned somewhere on my person. Some, like Urukha, insinuate themselves with patience and consideration. Others, such as Westel, press the boundaries and must request permission before I consider or volunteer it. And still others do not ask at all, and this I do not always approve of.

It is not that I dislike touch. It is an alternate communication form when words are insufficient. But when touch is used not for comfort or pleasure, but for manipulation or harm it is more difficult to calculate its benefit. Even when the one that caused this confusion is no longer present. That and direct contact often leads to uncomfortable questions regarding my status as a death knight. Thus, it is better to default to not permitting it.

But touch is also an expected component of interactions between friends. With the Regent however, I am not certain if she is testing my guard or expressing affection. More often I operate by believing the former and this led to those words being uttered. She was displeased with me after. 

Roeth

This is a male death knight of unknown tone and appearance because he never removes his helmet. He shows little concern for social conventions and pleasantries. Yet his reputation is that of one of the more powerful death knights still active on the field.

Nemeiah found him intimidating when he first began to linger at Tyr’s Hand. This was reasonable given his imposing presence and lack of manners. But he seemed to be liked by the Bishop and the favoritism continued with Lightwarden’s return from the dead. The Bishop demonstrated more enthusiasm for seeing Roeth than he did his own flock.

Why this is I am not certain. Roeth however has shown some partiality for Nem. She healed him at the Vanguard despite the pain it caused both of them. For this reason I requested of him (without Nem knowing) that he protect her during the last battle. He agreed.

He then proceeded to pontificate to me about re-joining the Ebon Blade. He spoke of my being a “true enough” death knight with piecemeal armor that should seek community with the other black swords of Acherus. In order to defeat whatever the next emerged threat on the world may be. I informed him that I had not technically left the Blade, though had not sought nor received orders in some time. It seemed that he was more interested in hearing himself speak however, and so I allowed him without promises or petty placations.

Yet for all of his bristling armor and wind (or perhaps because of the latter), I do not fear Roeth. He is managed easily. The Darkrider and his Axe are a different matter.

Graveside

Pip and Urukha invited me to attend an intimate ceremony to recognize the birth and death of Pip’s “tusker.” I understand this to be a derogatory term for an adult troll but an endearing one for a child.

This specific child was the product of Pip’s previous union with Chopsie. He was stillborn, never seeing his first day. Understandably this causes anxiety for them, and Urukha has adopted the unborn child as hers despite any lingering resentment toward Pip’s prior lifemate. They gave him the name Bro’din, after Pip’s brother.

The gathering was presided over by the Shadow Weaver of the Tribe, Kazak’guul. He uttered various chants and allowed Pip to speak to her child with all the words she could fit into one breath. The grave itself was well maintained and had many toys and other offerings around it. I had wanted to bring a gift as well, but was told by both Urukha and Kazak’guul not to. Yet the ceremony seemed to fulfill its intent. To preserve a sense of the relationship with the tusker.

It is certainly helpful to have a space set aside for this, for any departed loved one. But in my case the space is for a departed enemy  anathema. The purpose of my traveling to the windmills months ago was to change or even sever the relationship long after Viere’s death. And I appreciated not being there alone.

It also causes me to wonder if I was ever given a space like this after death. And whether it is still tended in some fashion by someone who did not know what happened after.

 I do not think it is so.