Zalanthe Moonglow: Memories

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Zalanthe Moonglow: Memories

Post by Swift »

The door closed with barely a sound. The couple strode with some trepidation along through the great hall, the echo of their footsteps filling their ears, adding to the torment of their minds. They had been blessed by their god, but in their hearts it also brought with it great pain. In the womans arm was a child, barely young enough to stand on her own two feet, her hair having already faded from its original blue to snowflake white. She smiled down at her, a smile filled with love, even as her eyes were filling with sorrow. The child did not notice, of course, her gaze transfixed on more important things: her new teddy bear, who she was already thinking up names for, along with wild stories of their coming adventures.

At the end of the hallway, in the centre of the room stood a great statue of the Creator. At is base was a single robed figure, his eyes watching not the couple, but rather the child as they approached. With a smile on his lips, greetings were said, knowing glances were exchanged and plans already agreed upon were set in motion.

Ceila set her child on the ground, biting back a sob as the girl almost toppled over but caught herself, smiling brightly up at her with the achievement. The child did not notice the tears rolling slowly down her mothers cheeks, nor the pained expression on her fathers face. Ceila knelt down to cuddle the girl once more, knowing it would be the last time for many moons. She wiped her eyes and composed herself, smiling through her pain at the girl.

"Darling, this is a good friend of ours. You are going to be staying with him for awhile while mommy and daddy take care of some things"

She swallowed another sob. She hated that she had to lie to her daughter, but she was too young to understand why. Too young to realize the gift she had been given, the importance of her life. Standing, she looked to her husband and took his hand. His face was firmly set, his eyes betraying nothing of his feelings. Softly, the priest spoke.

"We will take good care of her. She is great gift, and we shall treasure her. She was born for great things." Her father nodded slightly to the robed priest while Ceila broke down, sobbing loudly, her trembling legs threatening to give way until her husbands comforting arm wrapped around her, guiding her footsteps slowly back down the hallway.

Zalanthe tilted her head as she watched her parents leave, seeing her mothers obvious distress. Dropping her teddy, she managed a few faltering steps before she stumbled and began to crawl. The priests gentle hand came down and grasped her shoulder, stopping her. Tears welled up in her eyes as her parents disappeared down the hallway.

"Mommy?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Lady Zalanthe, have you been upstairs?"

Zalanthe blinked her eyes and looked around, finding herself still in Everdusk hall. Turning her head to the source of the voice, her eyes are met by the handsome face of Aniall Blackborugh. Shaking her head and smiling softly, she let herself be led to the back of hall, climbing the stairs slowly.

"It has seemed to me you need peace. I hope this helps"

Gazing up at the glowing tree in the magical garden, Aniall did not see the look of pain that crossed Zalanthes face. Taking a a deep, composing breath, her eyes fell closed.

Peace. I fear that will never find me

"What drew you and Trapper together?"
Last edited by Swift on Sun Jan 22, 2012 5:00 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Memories

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The night was cool and clear, the stars sparkled brightly and the moon, a quarter into its cycle, hovered over Leuthilspur. The High Priest stepped out of the temple, glancing left, and then right down the street. A few lamps glowed brightly, making shadows dance back and forth over the surrounding houses, but all was quiet. Satisfied, the priest motioned to the door. Dressed in a silver robe and matching hood hanging low over her face, the young Zalanthe slipped gracefully out, quietly closing the door behind her.

"Why must i always wear this garb at night?" she complained quietly. "This robe is far too big for me and the hood! My eyes only get sore in the day time."

"Because" he replied sternly while stepping quietly down the street "you are blossoming into womanhood and there are far too many young elven men more than a little keen to get into your bodice, and i will not have it. You are too important to be wasted on some fool with only his own interests at heart."

She frowned under her hood as she followed after him. She was getting tired of this. Tired of the unflattering clothes that hid her quickly developing body, a body she had become quite proud of in the privacy of her room, with luscious curves developing in all the right places. Tired of the covert, midnight excursions; while the night gave her poor eyes much needed relief, she wished that, for once, she could leave the temple during the daylight hours. More than anything, she was tired of the priest. Tired of his face, tired of his voice, tired of his incessant reminders of her 'greatness' without any giving her any hints as to why he felt that way.

Drifting down the quiet street, Zalanthes eyes darted from left to right. She could hear hushed whispers, windows and doors closing, but not a face could be seen. The priest strode on at a steady pace, taking a twisting path, leading slowly out beyond the walls of the city. He looked back over his shoulder, seeing his charge standing at the cities gates, looking confused. He smiled, turning back and approaching her, arms outstretched in a reassuring fashion.

"Come on child, we have a long road ahead of us"

"Where are we going?"

"The Grove. It is time you learn who you really are."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walk was long though leisurely, and took the best part of seven nights to complete. Tired, sore and more than a little agitated, Zalanthe stumbled behind the priest, muttering elven curses at the ground. She did not even understand why the trip was needed in the first place. After all, she was raised her whole life to this point in a temple dedicated to the Creator, why did they need to walk for seven days just to pray in his garden?

"Straighten up my girl, you are about to enter one of our holiest sites, and as close to Arvandor as you will come for many, many years it is to be hoped." Flashing her a knowing frown, he added "Be respectful to all you see."

She had heard much about the Grove in her years at the temple, of its beauty, of its tranquility and even that the Creator himself had been seen there. However, nothing prepared her for the sights she saw. Towering Oaks, taller than she had ever seen before surrounded the Grove, protecting it better than any wall of stone could. The sweet scent of roses permeated the air all around her as she walked slowly along the gleaming marble walkways, marveling at almost everything she saw. It was beauty that was not of this world, and quickly she found herself in a daze, almost hypnotized by the sights and the smells.

That is when she saw him. Young, tall and slender, he stood by the statue of Sehanine Moonbow, goddess of the moon. Short brown hair, combed to smooth perfection, sat atop his head and his skin was as pale a blue as she could have imagined. Dressed in shining mail armor that identified him as a soldier in training, his body promised strength and security. As he turned, his sparkling blue eyes, like the color of the ocean, fell to her, making her heart skip a beat. Her feet moved of their own accord, pulling her towards him. As she neared he smiled to her, warm and friendly, and her heart melted. She knew in that moment that, despite her young age (she was but 75, after all) her life would not be complete without him.

"Have you come to worship the goddess?" he said, motioning to the marble statue of Sehanine. His voice was like the sweetest music Zalanthe could remember.

"Ooh...ahhh..." she stammered "No I'm...I mean I am here with...ummm."

She could feel her pale cheeks reddening as she turned away, pointing to the priest who had by this time not only noticed the spell his charge was under, but also the young elf she was speaking to and was already hurrying over to them. The elf blinked at the figure striding towards them.

"But that...that is Ra...". He bit off his word and swallowed hard. Boldly, he reached up to nudge her hood back gently, his finger lightly stroking down over her cheek as his eyes settled for the first time on her young, pale face, her sparkling green eyes and lightly pinked lips, the mass of snowy hair beginning to escape the hood and blow lightly across her features.

"You're Zalanthe!" he uttered in amazement, his smile growing warmer and friendlier, even as her cheeks flushed further. By this time, the priest, breathing quite hard from his quick pace, reached the pair, grabbing Zalanthes arm firmly, pulling her back with a yelp, breaking her from the daze she was in.

"Come on my girl, we did not walk all this way for idle chatter" he said sternly, his fierce eyes moving to the young elf in front of him. "And I will thank you to stop wasting our time."

Pulling the girl along with him, Zalanthe twisted under his grasp to look back at the elf, still standing there in amazement, his eyes having never left her for even a moment. Desperately she called out to him.

"Please, I did not even hear your name?". She was almost crying. There stood the most beautiful man she had ever seen, whose merest glance melted her heart and made her weak at the knees, and she was about to lose him thanks to the priest, whose name she silently cursed with more dreadful words than before. The young elf smiled again, with a warmth and tenderness she did not know could exist and with a single word, allayed all of her fears.

"Celendur"

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"Celendur"

Zalanthe sighed as she gazed up at the moon from the small hill just outside the Moorgate of the great city of Silverymoon, tears beginning to well in her eyes. In her lap rested the head of a sleeping young woman, whose hair she stroked gently and softly. Feeling a shift, she looked down, the tears lightly trickling down her pale face.

"Whats wrong, sweets?"

Zalanthe smiled warmly and shook her head, even as the tears continued their slow march down her cheeks, her emerald eyes, normally bright and sparkling, now dull, betraying her pain.

"Nothing is wrong. Go back to sleep."

With a yawn and a long, concerned look, Trapper Wind drifted back to sleep, while Zalanthe looked back to the moon and fell back into her thoughts once again.
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Re: Memories

Post by johnlewismcleod »

Stunning prose, Swift...thank you :D
I seek plunder....and succulent greens


[Wynna] Chula Lysander: [Talk] *Shakes head* I've been in worse situations. He was just....unjoyful! *stomps foot*


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Re: Memories

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"You came!"

She smiled at him, emerald eyes sparkling as she glided gracefully over the fragrant grass as she climbed the small hill. Her pale, nearly white skin glimmered in the light of the moon, the gentle breeze blowing strands of snowy hair lightly across her face, the obstruction only enhancing her beauty. Dressed in a silver robe that hugged her body and accentuated every curve, she was radiant.

"When have I ever not?"

Her voice was soft, almost musical, not even trying to hide the love she felt for this man. Her feet stopped a few meters short of him, beckoning him over with a sly smile and the faintest shake of her hips. Celendurs smile grew. Zalanthe knew she was beautiful and knew she could play him like a puppet, though neither of them really cared. His feet moved without a second thought, leading him towards her with open arms. Her skin tingled as she melted against him. She felt warm, safe, a feeling she only got when in his arms, and that happened all too rarely.

"Wont the priest be angry that you are gone?"

Zalanthe smiled warmly, placing her finger to his lip, cutting him off. Gazing into his cool blue eyes, she remembered the first time she saw him, all those years ago: The light in his eyes, the fragrance in the air, even how she trembled at his first words. Her sparkling eyes began to pale, becoming distant, almost empty. Celendur tilted his head as he looked back at her, stroking a hand along her pale cheek, whispering softly.

"Zalanthe? My Love? Where have you gone?"

She blinked and shook her head, looking around, blushing as her eyes met his again. The curious look betrayed his concern, but he said nothing. Instead he smiled that warm smile that left her weak at the knees, his fingers gliding gently through her silky hair. Stepping up on her toes, her lips pressed to his in a warm, tender kiss that stole his breath away.

"I am so sorry Celendur. Just being with you reminded me of the first day we met. Do you remember? Gods you were beautiful. I mean, you still are beautiful, but that day, gleaming in your armor and your eyes blue as the deepest seas i could im..."

It was his turn to cut her off, pressing his finger to her lips, running lightly along them as her tongue snaked out to lick cheekily at him.

"I remember it as though it were yesterday."

She blushed, realizing she was rambling like a love struck school girl. Closing her mouth, she twisted in his arms to lean back against his strong chest, guiding his hands to her slim hips. Looking down the hill she could see the ocean, the waves lapping softly at the shore, the whitewash sparkling like diamonds.

"Promise me we can live like this forever" she murmured, her voice barely loud enough to rise above the soft waves. Laughing softly, Celendurs strong arms wrapped around her hips, pulling her off her feet and spinning her around, making her giggle and squeal in delight. Spinning until he got dizzy, he finally let her down, taking her face in his hands and smiling warmly to her.

"I promise I will be with you until Sehanine herself calls me to Arvandor. I love you Zalanthe, and I always will"

-------------------------------------

The first rays of sunlight crept over the walls of Leuthilspar, warm and bright as the heavily cloaked and hooded girl padded softly through its streets. Ducking down an alley, looking left and then right, she nimbly clambered over the small wall and made her way through the perfectly manicured gardens of the temple. Pressing her ear to the door first for signs of life, she crept inside, closing the door silently. Up the stairs and to her right she hurried, as quietly as she could manage. Just a few more steps, that is all I need. Her hand reached the door to her room before she froze in horror as a booming voice filled the hallway.

"Zalanthe! By the gods have you been sneaking out again?" the priest roared, appearing at the far end of the hall, striding quickly towards her. Her head dropped, muttering a curse to herself. Five minutes earlier Zalanthe, that's all you needed to do, escape his arms just five minutes earlier, and you would have been home safe.

Grabbing her arm roughly, the priest spun her around to face him. His hand trembled slightly, unable to fully disguise his rage.

"This is the FINAL time young lady. I have had enough of your sneaking away in the middle of the night to be with that boy. It is affecting every thing you do! During the days you look like you are on another world and barely pay any attention to our teachings and at the nights, those that you are actually here for, you spend your time gazing out the window instead of studying. You are totally ignorant of the gifts you have been bestowed..."

Zalanthe tried to remain calm in the face of this lecture, but she struggled. This was far from the first time she had been caught sneaking out since she first met Celendur 10 years before, and regardless of what was said, it was unlikely to be the last time.

"...And that boy! A simple soldier! Heavens above Zalanthe you...you are...blessed by the gods and all you concern yourself with is what is between the legs of a lowly soldier?" the priest spat, his face turning red. Zalanthes eyes rolled, infuriating the priest further.

"That is it! No more! From now on I will have your door locked and the grounds patrolled to ensure this comes to an end. I will not have you squander your blessings over some boy..."

At this she started. Never before had she heard such a threat. Discipline, a greater study load and even corporal punishment, but never this. Her pale face flushed as rage began to swell inside her. Bar her from seeing the one she loved? How dare he. He was not even her father!

"...furthermore, I will speak with the officer of the watch and see to it that his patrols do not bring him near this building, you have enough distractions as it...". The priest stopped and blinked mid sentence. His young charge, the crowning jewel of the temple, his brightest student and a girl whom he loved like she was his daughter was trembling with rage, her hands balled into tightly into fists. He swallowed and his voice softened, seeing the error of his approach.

"Zalanthe, please, I seek only to do that which will better prepare you for...". He was cut off again, this time by her scream.

"You care nothing for me. You care nothing for what I think or what I feel or what I want. You care only about your prayers and your stupid god. I did not ask for these gifts and if I could, I would rid myself of them in a heartbeat. I am sick of this place, sick of your lectures and sick of you". Shaking herself free of his grasp, she stepped back to her door, slipping into her room and violently slammed it shut. Away from the eyes of the priest, her rage turned to anger, then quickly to grief. Curling up on her small bed, tears began to stream from her eyes as she thought of Celendur and the chance that, perhaps, the priest meant to follow through with his threats.

Suddenly the room fell silent. She did not seem to hear even her own sobbing. Suddenly she felt as though she were being watched by something unseen. Her thoughts immediately and, to her, strangely, turned to her mother when she was just a babe. Those soft, warm eyes accompanied by the loving, yet disapproving frown. As she crawled under the covers to hide herself from the world, a voice like her mothers but, somehow, not, entered her mind like a whisper.

"Zalanthe, why do you say such hurtful things? Do I not love you?"
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Re: Memories

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Wind swept over Leuthilspar, howling through every crack and crevice. Dark clouds rolled across the normally clear sky, bringing with it driving rain, booming thunder and dazzling bolts of lightening. The guard pounded her fist on the wooden door impatiently, though it was not the weather that drove her, despite being soaked to the core.

The telltale sounds of a lock being opened somehow managed to climb above the din of the storm, stopping the guards frantic knocking. As the occupant opened the door, the guard tensed.

Standing tall and graceful in an elegant yet conservative blue robe, the woman looked out nervously. People rarely knocked on this door, and the look of discomfort in the womans grey eyes showed it. She looked over the guard, clad in silver chain, the mark of the Watch on the breastplate and a longsword hung at her side. Her skin was quite pale, her eyes sparkling green like emeralds. The woman’s grey eyes twinkled in sudden recognition.

"Zalanthe?"

The guard smiled ever so slightly.

"May I come in mother?"

-------------------------------

Celia poured a glass of wine for each of them, a local flavour, sitting down opposite her daughter. Still recovering from the surprise, she appraised her daughter.

"Your father could not take it. Not having his darling girl crawling to him, stretching your little arms up for a hug. I think it broke his heart, doing what we did with you."

Zalanthe simply nodded. This visit was a long time coming, and, she knew, would not be without it's pains. She had hoped to avoid her mother’s memories however, but then, neither of them had had the chance to talk about it. She could only imagine how much more it must have hurt for her mother.

"We watched you, from afar. Watched you grow, blossom, turn into a beautiful woman. We thought about visiting some times, but the priests told us you were too fragile to handle it."

Zalanthe’s eyes clouded over, losing their sparkle. Inside, her anger roared. A night had not passed that she had not wished to see her parents again, to hug her father or play hide and seek with her mother. It mattered not now. Her days of innocence were long past, and the reminder only served to inflame her distrust of the priests.

"Yes, that sounds like them" she replied calmly.

Both women fell silent gazing each at the other. Outside, the storm continued to rage, lashing the coastal town with all the fury Talos could muster. After a long moment, tears started to roll down Celia’s' cheeks. She wept silently, the tears the only glimpse of emotion showing on her face. When she spoke, her words were measured and calm.

"I am sorry, you must think us the worst parents in the realms."

Zalanthe nodded. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream and swear and lash out; at her mother for abandoning her, at the priests for her upbringing and least of all her god for giving her these 'gifts, but she remained calm. She needed to be strong; otherwise she could never see this through.

"So how is the Watch treating you? I am surprised the High Priest has allowed you to join them."

"He hasn't. I am not a member of the watch" Zalanthe replied, much to Ceilas confusion. "I am going away for awhile. I do not know when I will be back."

"The Priest taking you away again?" Ceila laughed softly. "He always let me know when he was taking you out the city. I was always there to watch you leave."

Zalanthe shook her head. "I am leaving Evermeet. I am heading for Faerun."

"Why?"

Zalanthe shifted. After this long without her daughter, she had expected meek acceptance from Celia. Truly it did not matter what her mother thought, but still she felt uneasy answering her question. "I think my studies have come to a close, and it is time I find my place in this world". The lie was good, but Zalanthe was her mother’s daughter, and Celias' laugh indicated she saw right through it.

"Find your place in the world? You already know where that is: Wherever our Father needs you. What are you hiding from me Zalanthe? Please, I have suffered nights unnumbered of pain from my decision, if you are to leave, please be truthful." Zalanthe slumped in her chair. Her mother was right. Despite the lies that the priests had fed her through the years, Celia had never lied to her.

"Celendur is being sent over the sea and I do not wish to be parted from him"

Celias' eyes softened. She knew that name well. She had heard enough from the priests to feel that she almost knew him and had seen him in the streets on patrol often enough to know he could protect her from almost anything. She moved over and wrapped her arms around her daughter and kissed her forehead softly.

"Take good care of him Zalanthe. The mere mention of his name makes your eyes sparkle brighter than Ieriyn on a clear night." Celia sighed. "It will be hard not seeing you around the city in the dead of night or wrapped up in a dozen cloaks to hide yourself. I always hoped that the day would come that you would be freed and would return to me, but alas, our Father has greater plans for you, it seems, than a life lived in Evermeet."

Zalanthe stood, wrapping her arms gently around Celia, hugging her again. "I may resent your decision, and my upbringing and my gifts, and his whispers may drive me to distraction some nights, but he is right in one thing. I cannot hate you for what you did mother." Celia smiled warmly. It was a smile one could only produce after being absolved of a great crime or distress. A smile she had wished to display for 100 years. "Where is father anyway? I am surprised he would be out on a day like today."
Celia blinked, stunned at the question and looked quizzically at her daughter. "They did not tell you?" Zalanthe’s heart sank at the look on her mother's face. Celia sighed.

"A few years after your birth he went of to celebrate Lateu'quor at Corellons Grove up north in the spring. Normally he attended a smaller celebration at a shrine just outside the city, but had always wanted to be at the grove just once. After the festival was over, he simply never returned home. He was seen entering the grove and from what I have gathered was one of the last to leave. I even went there myself to see if he had become entranced and could not leave of his own will, but he was nowhere to be found. I told the priests of this and begged them to pass the news to you with all haste."

Zalanthe stood stony faced as the words sank in. It felt as though a knife had been stabbed into her heart. She watched tears begin to roll down Celias' face again. Her mind raced over her upbringing and the words of the priests, the lies they had told. In her growing anger, the words she always believed to be true began to twist, casting doubt in her mind on everything she thought she knew. Without a sound she swirled around and hurried out the door, pulling up her hood to protect against the storm that only seemed to be getting worse. In little more than a minute she had disappeared into the driving rain, walking quickly and with purpose. Suddenly she stopped as though dazed. Her raging mind had gone completely blank, the now familiar whisper echoing through her. With a scream and a shake of the head, she stormed off, returning not to the temple, nor to her mother.

Celendur was waiting. It was time to go.
Last edited by Swift on Wed Mar 03, 2010 4:24 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Memories

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Re: Memories

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“Rhothomir beh dead. Drug thrah ah partahl boy ah fiah fiend.”

Zalanthes normally pale skin lost the last ounce of its color, her sparkling emerald eyes fading and slowly glazing over. Rhothomir made her feel loves spark, gave her a light in her heart that had been missing since she had lost Celendur.

Zalanthe swayed on her feet. Trapper Wind knew the look on the moon elfs face, but despite her quick recognition, her increasingly frantic voice became fainter and fainter to the elf.

Celendur.

------------------------------------

The wind whistled through the boughs and branches of the towering, majestic oak and maple trees of Cormathor forest. The elven war party stalked as quietly as it could through the dense undergrowth. Fallen branches, rotting trunks and masses upon masses of leaves hampered their progress, but they were not behind schedule, mostly due to the discipline of Taegen, their commander, and the fitness of the soldiers. All except for one.

Zalanthe shaded her eyes and looked around, breathing deeply. They had come to a brief halt for lunch and it was not a minute too soon. Lacking in the decades of training that each of the other soldiers had, the trip had been long and hard on her. She had barely spent a day out of her armor in the last 6 months as the company had travelled across the seemingly endless sea to land west of the grand city of Baldurs Gate. From there they went by small boats up the Chionthar river leaving it at its northern end, skirting the edge of the Great Desert Anauroch, past the marshes and stonelands of Cormyr and, finally, into the forest. Myth Drannor was their destination, to bolster the guard forces while the elven people rebuilt it to its previous glory.

Knowing they were not far from their destination was no consolation to Zalanthe. She had trained in secret with Celendur, yes, but it could not prepare her for this and she had had to sink or swim. Very nearly she had sunk, day after day lagging behind from the weight of her supply pack and chain armor. She had survived though, mostly due to the aid of Celendur and a wizard sympathetic to their situation and, over time, had become strong enough to carry her weight without magical or manly assistance.

Sliding down into the grass, loosening her sword belt, her hand stroked over the soft face of Celendur. Soon they would mark 50 years together: a trifle, really, but she had insisted it was significant, being that it was almost half of her lifespan and he was not one to argue over such trivial things. He leaned over and kissed her on the lips, warm and tender. For not the first time on this trip she cursed their armor as she fell into his arms, all thoughts of food and water gone from their minds. Suddenly, everything went utterly dark, darker even than the dead of night. A moment later, the booming voice of Taegen rang out.

“AMBUSH! DEFENSIVE POSITIONS!”

No sooner than the words were uttered, arrows began slicing through the air. Cries of pain rose up as some found their mark, while others fell harmlessly to the ground. Shrill shrieking from beyond the edges of the camp broke out. Without care for himself, Celendur grabbed Zalanthe and rolled over, protecting her from the initial assault before springing up, pulling her with him. Foregoing their bows, each drew their swords and stood back to back, barely able to see the earth in front of them. The clashing of steel sounded moments later. Zalanthes eyes darted around frantically for a foe, but none could be seen.

Just as suddenly as the darkness had appeared, it lifted, washed away by the dispelling magics of the elven wizards. Zalanthe blinked, recoiling as the sunlight dazzled her eyes. Shaking her head to clear her sight, her breath caught in her throat. All around her, chaos reigned. Many soldiers lay dead already, along with a significant, though lesser number of their foes. Most were pierced with foul, poisoned arrows, having fallen in the initial confusion.

Drow.

Snapping her from her daze, Celendur dived around her, sword slashing down at the dark form of a rogue barely three feet in front of her. He fell with a shriek, poison coated daggers slipping from his hands, his dark neck sliced open, spraying crimson blood across her armor. She blinked at him. He simply smiled, even taking the time to bow slightly before grabbing her arm and dragging her towards Taegen, who was already building a pile of dark elven bodies at his feet, his greatsword casting ruin upon all those who dared to close.

Onwards their foes came, a seemingly endless wave of dark shapes springing from the shadows. Standing near to the commander, Celendur and Zalanthe fought side by side, protecting each other with a fervour that few others that day could match. Darting left, then right, they weaved around the other to parry blows and hack at their enemies. He fought with the skill that a century of training had provided; she fought with the skill that came naturally when using the weapon favoured by the Creator himself. Blood flowed from their fallen enemies, as well as from their own wounds. Zalanthe used her divine gifts sparingly, withholding her most crucial incantations for more serious injuries.

As the battle began to wane, the two elves found themselves idle, watching mostly for stragglers or arrows coming from the woods around them. Zalanthe leaned on her sword, panting heavily, while Celendur stood tall and fair, leaving her hard pressed to work out if he really had just slain a dozen of their darker cousins. Neither of them saw, nor heard, the small creature creep up behind Celendur, thinking of an easy kill. The point of a blade appeared in the front of Celendurs stomach, blood dripping slowly from it. Zalanthe tilted her head curiously, her eyes rising to his face. Only then, with the look of agony in his eyes, did she grasp what had happened. Before she could even open her lips to begin an incantation, the lightning sharp blade was ripped powerfully up through his torso, nearly slicing him in two. Blood sprayed from his body, covering the shocked moon elfs face. He shrieked in pain, though it was short lived, the blade not exiting until it had stolen every ounce of life from within him.

Zalanthe stared horrified. Her face began to redden as Celendurs body fell limp to the ground, revealing the grinning face of his killer. Fire raged within her, though her face remained perfectly calm, her hand remaining steady around the grip of the sword.. The vicious drow, his eyes locked on hers, leaned forward and licked a drop of blood from his blade, laughing cruelly. Zalanthe pounced with surprising speed, smashing her shield into the drows face, knocking him to the ground. All thought s, all concerns, all feeling lost. This creature, this....thing, had stolen from her the one thing she valued and she would make him pay. She watched him struggle to get back to his feet, slamming her shield down against its neck, holding him down. She stared down into his eyes, watching his fear, letting him see nothing of her own feelings. Zalanthes sword rose high in the air, then stabbed down into the drows chest. Then again, and again, and again. Her arm moved mechanically, almost of its own will, slamming the blade deep into his dark flesh. Not even the spraying blood stopped her. Until she had taken from him what he took from Celendur, she would not stop.

A blink of her eyes later, she found herself tumbling across the blood stained floor of the forest, her back slamming into a tree that was more like a wall than a living thing. With a groan, she rolled over and pushed herself up, shaking away her daze, looking back for her attacker. Standing over the body of Celendur was Taegen, clutching at his side, his fingers red with his own blood as he tried to staunch the flow of a nasty wound.

“It is over, Zalanthe. Hacking his killer long after death will not bring him back.”

She blinked and swallowed. The drow was barely recognisable, stabbed and slashed countless times, he was little more than a pile of blood and torn flesh. Sword and shield fell from Zalanthes hand as she staggered forward before collapsing next to her beloved Celendur. Already his face had grown more pale than hers, the blood having quite quickly drained from his massive wounds. Her tears flowed as she grasped at his cheeks, running over her cheeks to drip onto his lifeless features. She gripped his hair and screamed his name, begged him to open his eyes but he could not hear her. Incantation after Incantation she cast to try and heal his wounds, all to no avail. Deep down, Zalanthe already knew he walked the fair plains of Arvandor, awaiting her arrival.

Taegen reached to and grasped the womans shoulder. Gently he raised her up and turned her away, leading her back to the camp, motioning to his lieutenants to begin collecting the dead.

“I am sorry Zalanthe. It was with my blessing, and that of the Seldarine, that you were allowed to come on this journey, and I feared for what might come to you. Come now. Set aside your grief and your pain, for there are still many days before we reach Myth Drannor.”

“No” she replied as she trembled in his gentle grasp. “My road ends here. Corellon be damned, I will be his play thing no longer.”

Shrugging free of his grasp, she strode back to where Celendur had fallen, gathered her shield and sword, and dashed away into the words. She did not see the pain her words had brought to Teagen, nor knew how deflating her departure would be from the now heavily depleted war group. Cutting a path south, heedless of the danger, she did not stop for many days until she found the outskirts of Ashabenford. Her grief drove her on, her mind filled with the thought of living out her life alone.

------------------------------------

“Zalanthe! Zalanthe stay wit me girl.”

Trappers frantic voice rang loudly in her ears again as her hands shook Zalanthe violently. Gasping sharply and blinking, there stood Garlus the dwarf, looking up at her with concern in his eyes and a frown on his lips.

“Eh saes tah tell ehr eh looves ehr”.

Without a sign or a sound, Zalanthe spun around on her heels and walked towards the Rauvin river, tears coming anew to her eyes.
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Re: Memories

Post by Swift »

NOTE: This story contains suggestive references. If you cannot stand even the implication of sex, please close this thread.


Zalanthe smiled warmly. Soft murmurs floated in through the open window from other patrons enjoying the warm, peaceful night while only stray beams of from the moon lit the room. She moved gracefully, her long, snowy hair flowing around her delicate face. Her bare, pale skin, almost unheard of for a moon elf, shimmered when the moonlight snuck in through the window, further enhancing her thin yet beautifully curvy body. On the bed lay a dark, dangerous creature, similarly unclad and glowing in an entirely different way to the elf.

“Zala...I've been thinkin', I have been verra blind...”

Zalanthe hummed softly as she moved about the room, collecting two tall glasses and a bottle of wine, pulling a dagger from a hastily discarded boot to pop the cork. The creature on the bed followed her every move, the grey eyes gazing up and down her exposed flesh.

“I told you I love you...I rellah do. I see it now...with what I know...since Aniall left us here. Those males don't mattah as much as this.”

Zalanthe poured two glasses of wine, then approached the bed and handed one to the woman, tanned fingers briefly brushing over hers, sending a shiver through them both.

“Well, you know I love you.”

Trapper Wind squirmed and sat up, taking a sip of wine. Her voice was rough and harsh at times, likely from her level of drinking, Zalanthe thought, but when she needed it to be, it could be clean and smooth. Such as now. She sipped her wine and appraised the woman sitting on the bed. She was not the most attractive woman walking the marches and many would have considered them a very strange couple if it was widely known. The pale moon maiden and the rough, dark ranger with a penchant for indulging in too much whiskey.

“Yes..verra much so. I think I could live easily without the others but I could not live without you.”

This made the pale elf blink in surprise. It had been some years since she had heard those words uttered, though her short time in Faerun had made it feel like a lifetime. She swallowed, staring back at Trapper, the humans grey eyes gazing into hers, even as she began to fade.

-----------------------------

“Please Celendur I beg you, I could not bear to live without you here.”

Tears were running down Zalanthes glimmering cheeks, her hands clinging at his silken shirt. Moments earlier he had told her of his selection for a small group of the Watch who were to be sent to Faerun as backup and relief for their kin at Myth Drannor, the legendary city of their past that was now retaken from the darkness. A group which included Celendur. A group she was not a member of.

“Zalanthe, I am sorry, but I have to go. The watch is what I have chosen to do, and I must abide by the decisions of my superiors. If I could simply run away when it suited me like you can, believe me I would.”

His hands, his strong hands, grasped hers and squeezed them gently. Her eyes sparkled from her tears. It felt as though it was just the day before that they had met, him in his shining mail and her in that horrid priestly garb she was always forced to wear. In reality, 49 years had passed and no manner of efforts by the priests had prevented her from stealing away with Celendur for days and occasionally weeks at a time. They had barely been apart for more than a few days since she first saw him at Corellons grove, and this was a blow too great for her to accept. She had lost her parents and lost her chance at a normal life. She could not bear to lose him as well.

“Let me come with you, please” she sniffed, wiping vainly at her eyes to dry them, more tears quickly wetting her cheeks again “I will do anything; I will give you anything you want. I can even fight! You have been training me in sword use for months. Please I cannot lose you, not now.” She sunk to her knees, looking up at him.

“Zalanthe” he sighed. “Zalanthe my dear, my love, it is not that simple. You are no guardswoman, to even be selected for this group has required many years of service from me. I cannot simply walk in and demand your addition.”

“Something wrong soldier?”

Taegen, the commander of the newly formed group walked up to them, tall, athletic yet enormously strong, carrying a massive shield that must have weighed as much as Zalanthe. For her lovers’ sake, she bowed her head to hide her tears. Celendur shifted, visibly torn between his personal and professional roles. Shaking his hands free of Zalanthes, he snapped to attention. “No sir. Nothing wrong.” Though her eyes remained on the ground beneath her, she could feel Taegens gaze, followed quickly by his strong, calm voice.

“We leave in a tenday. Make sure you are fully prepared.” Celendur nodded. The moment Taegen had turned his back; Zalanthe sprang to her feet, tears still streaming down her cheeks, her eyes now brimming with rage, grabbing his tunic and thrusting him backwards, the force sufficient enough to make him groan when he was run into something very hard and very solid. She screamed.

“You liar! Your horrible, terrible, filthy liar! I was on my knees in tears begging you not to leave and you say there is nothing wrong? How could you lie like that to him? To me?”

With another firm shove to his chest, she let go and turned on her heels, her cloak whipping around and against his face, stinging him, adding physical pain to his huge amount of emotional pain. Taegen turned at that moment, seeing her storm off and moved stepped back to Celendur. She did not hear the words they spoke, or see how Celendur broke down in tears in front of his commander to confess the conflict in his heart. Nor did she hear his request moments later to be relieved of his duties with the watch. She was already gone, glad for perhaps the first time in her life that she was headed back to the temple and away from him.

-----------------------------

*thump, thump, thump*

The door shook with the force of the knocks. Two days had passed without it having opened. Two days Zalanthe had spent huddled under the covers of her bed crying, like a babe whose favourite toy had been taken from her. She had neither eaten, drunk nor slept. The High Priest called through the door like he had done on many occasions since her arrival two days prior in a tearful wrath that would have wilted even the most hardened of her supporters (of which there were few). It was to no avail.

“Zalanthe, please let us in. This is of vital importance.”

Us? Had she heard him wrong this time? Every time? Ever it was ‘I’ since she arrived and won the concession that none would enter without her permission. Us? Weak and a touch more pale than was normal due to her self-deprivation, she crawled from her bed and opened her door. Blinking from the light that rushed in, she was stunned to see not only the High Priest standing there to meet her, but Taegen also.

“Ah, finally she rises” spoke the priest. “We have tried to rouse you since you came back to us, first just the priests, but soon after Taegen here insisted that he see you.”

She rolled her eyes. An apology from Taegen was the last thing she wanted to here. She choked back a laugh that Celendur had managed to convince him to do it in his place. Coward. Without a word, she started to close the door again.

“Zalanthe Moonglow.” It was the priest again, his voice calm but the words were powerful. Her full name was only ever uttered when she was in trouble, as most parental figures were prone to do. “Zalanthe, Taegen needs to speak with you, you would do well to listen to him.”

Rolling her eyes again, she left the door half closed and stumbled back to her bed and climbed into it. Hearing the door click, she rolled over to see Taegen leaning against it, smiling softly at her. “Taegen, please, whatever Celendur has asked you to say, I do not want...”

“Zalanthe, I am not here on his request” he said, cutting her off. “I am here to give you something.” Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a scrolled piece of parchment. “You want to read this, very soon I would suggest.” He held it out, but did not bring it over. With a groan, she got up again, snatching the paper from his hand and began to unfurl it.

“You are a delivery boy now? I can hardly bel...” She was cut off again, but this time it was not Taegen, but herself. Her eyes scanned the scroll in disbelief, her mouth falling open. As she reached the end, they rose to the top to read it again. And again. And again. Taegen started to grin. As her slack jaw began to form words, he stopped her.

“Yes, it is real, and no, it is not a mistake. As of today you are a member of the Leuthilspar Watch and have been added to our expedition. I hope Celendur has trained you as well as we trained him as you will be expected to carry yourself as any other member of the group. That means wearing armor, fighting when required and carrying your share of the supplies.”

Zalanthe was stunned. Her eyes flicked between the grinning commander and the parchment in her hands. She did not know whether to scream in happiness or break down and cry.

“The armory is currently modifying some armor for you to wear. Celendur was able to give us remarkably good sizing for you” he grinned a little wider, despite Zalanthes sudden, brief scowl. “In two more days you will report to the watch station near the north gate of town. You will spend the rest of this tenday training and getting to know the rest of the group. I will see you then.”

He turned and opened the door to leave.

“Why are you doing this?”

He paused for a long moment before turning back to her. “I know what it feels like to be in love and to have to leave behind. I have been in the Watch for a long time and fought countless battles, but there was nothing more satisfying for me than to come home to my wife. This is not a short journey, though, and it could be tens, perhaps even a hundred years or more before we return. Celendur told me how much you mean to him and I could see and hear for myself what he means to you.” Taegen paused and sighed softly, taking her hand gently in his before continuing, his voice becoming quieter.

“I know what you are Zalanthe and I know what you symbolize. I prayed many times for guidance before I was granted a response.” He smiled and released her hand. “I have moved mountains to get you into this group Zalanthe, all I ask is that should the time come, you show me the same kindness.”

As Taegen stepped out and closed the door, Zalanthe crumpled to the floor and began to cry again, except this time they were tears of happiness. Her freedom had finally come.

-----------------------------

Trapper Wind watched the pale elf and waited patiently. It had only been a minute and she had seen her fade out for quite a bit longer than that before. She decided against rousing her this time and wondered what part of her life Zalanthe was caught up in. So she sat in the moonlit room and waited, admiring the pale, exposed body of her friend as she stood still as a statue and sipped her wine. She found herself squirming again, the deep, musky scent of both women still filled the room from their recent love making and the sight of Zalanthe glimmering in the stray beams of moonlight quickly became too much. Her hand reached out to ever so lightly brush over the centre of the elven womans’ desire.

With a sudden gasp and slight jerk, Zalanthe blinked and looked down, her mind screaming forward from her memory to the present, recalling the last few moments. She smiled down at Trapper who had snapped her hand back to her side. Leaning down, she took the glass from Trappers hand and carelessly tossed it away, shattering it and staining the wooden floor with its contents. Their fingers entwined together and their lips met for a passionate kiss as the elf maiden brought her body gently down against the human ranger and murmured softly.

“I will be with you always.”
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Re: Memories

Post by CloudDancing »

At first I thought it was self-serving to comment on the above but I really am proud of Swift's writing and so pleased to see so many PCs on TSM inspired to write about their adventures and elaborate backgrounds.

ERP and as we call it "Fade to Black" moments allow much liberty to the imaginations of the player characters involved. From a mature perspective this often adds a 3-dimensionality that brings the whole role-playing immersion that the Neverwinter Nights interface helps engender.

In it's previous incarnation this was also quite common across the many many persistent worlds that exisisted and Swift's characters in the past have had long term relationships to this effect. And there are also consequences to this type of RP as we all have seen both outward (such as the High Hold guard threatening to hang Trapper over the Grull incident and still calling her all sorts of names as the Dm sees fit.) A mature role-player can accept consequences but you do end up ranging into the realm of extreme emotional upheavals as per real life.

As well this type of story I think engenders an extreme amount of meta-knowledge that might be tempting to sensationalize in-game or with me as a player. I would hope people would not use it to assume that this is all our characters do. I deeply pray and hope that this aspect of my character is not so blatant that it is all there seems to be of her, overshadowing the competence and killer instincts she has for combat and real in-game problem solving skills.

However as far as my RP goes, this type of scene does not dominate the time or energies spent on the main course of an NWN/Alfa/AD&D adventure. It is a dessert moment if you will, time to sit back and savor the fact that you have managed to live through another day.
Last edited by CloudDancing on Sun Mar 21, 2010 2:26 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Memories

Post by Blindhamsterman »

Good Read and some thoughtful comments from Cloud also.

Kudos to you both
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Re: Memories

Post by Swift »

Authors Note: Not exactly a memory of Zalanthes, more how she imagines the event happened based on the account given by Celia, her mother.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yTZM4snO38

“The stars look so beautiful tonight.”

The moon was not even a tenday into its cycle, at most a quarter to its full, greatly reducing its light and letting all the stars shine brighter. Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, periodically hiding its silver rays. Celia strolled slowly through the soft grass, letting the blades tickle the soles of her bare feet. Shadows flickered back and forth across her pale blue skin as the cool ocean breeze washed over the small hill and through the branches of the trees. She was as tall and graceful as any elven woman, her hair long and flowing, only a slightly deeper shade of blue than her skin. Normally she was very slender, but it had been almost two years to the day since life sprung anew within her and by now her belly was very large and swollen. She idly stroked down over her unborn child, giggling softly as she felt another kick. They had become much more frequent lately.

“Not nearly as beautiful as you are, my love. Is she restless?”

Sirion Moonglow pushed himself off the ground and walked over to embrace his beaming wife from behind, sliding his hands around her hips and up over her belly, feeling another kick for himself. She had that glow that all pregnant women get and it made her even more beautiful in his eyes. He had already decided he was having a daughter and though he would love a son unconditionally, his prayers had been for a girl. A little angel to call him daddy.

“Very. I think it must be almost time. Have you decided on a name?”

“Zalanthe.”

“And if it is a boy?” Celia knew her husband’s thoughts as much as he did, but she still enjoyed teasing him.

“It will be a girl.” He smiled. He used to get quite angry at his wife’s constant doubt over their childs sex but had become used to it. She did not have to believe him, but he knew, he knew in his heart he was going to have a daughter.

“Well, I hope you are right. I do not want a son to remain nameless because you did not give it thought.” She smiled and laughed; again she teased, though this time he did not know it. Celia was prepared though; she already had a boys name picked out in case her husband was wrong.

“No need to worry my sweet, I am so certain that I have fathered a daughter that I...” His words were cut off by Celia firmly grasping his arm and her simultaneous sharp gasp.

“It is starting!”

Sirion blinked and looked at his wife. Almost in an instant her soft features and beaming smile had been replaced by a pained, almost surprised look. Fear filled her eyes. They had plans for this, but those plans lay back in Leuthilspur, not this small hill overlooking the ocean just outside. He took a quick, though deep breath to calm himself. She needed him to be calm right now, to support her, and that is just what he would do.

“Come my love, it is only a short walk back to the city.” He took his wifes hand gently to lead her, but they had not taken more than a couple of steps when she shrieked and fell to one knee. Already she was breathing hard, her face twisting in pain every few seconds.

“I can’t Sirion.” Celia panted and groaned. “Every step...hurts. Please, I am not going to make the city.”

Without a word, Sirion guided her over to a nearby tree, carefully settling her down against it, desperately searching his mind for the knowledge he needed. He was not overly worried, though. They had both been briefed quite well on what to expect during the birth of their child and he took comfort knowing that most births have false alarms. Celia grasped at the soft earth, panting sharply, her face contorted with a mixture of pain and exertion. She knew better than him. This was no false alarm.

“It’s...its coming” she screamed through gritted teeth, her legs falling open. With a gentle hand, Sirion rolled up her dress above her knees, stroking the outside of her thigh gently, gazing up at his beautiful wife, his voice falling to a whisper.

“Just breathe honey; you know what to do, just push when it feels right.”

The minutes began to stretch on. Sirion held Celias hand gently, stroking the hair out of her face as it grew damp from her efforts and provided what comfort he could manage. The strain grew on her face with each exhausting push, which was to be expected. Celias hand came up to stroke his cheek, her voice strained and weak but even at this moment, she kept her wits.

“You need to...gather up...our child...your cloak” she waved her hand weakly at his shoulder, screaming suddenly as a surge of pain rocketed out from her abdomen and up her side. Sirion quickly followed her suggestion, unclasping his cloak and moving around between her legs. Looking down he could see the head of his child beginning to appear. As he blinked, it seemed that in that short instant, even more of the head had appeared. The baby was coming much faster than either of them had been told to expect. Barely twenty minutes had passed since Celias warning and already it seemed nearly over.

Celia screamed again, making Sirion lose focus and look up at her. If he could have, his face would have shown the panic he suddenly felt. All color had disappeared from her cheeks, leaving her deathly white almost as though she was made of porcelain. Her breathing had become shallow and her head was falling forward and lolling from side to side. He glanced down at her hands to see her grip on the grass had slackened and become loose. Shaking his head, he returned his eyes to the baby.

“One more push my sweet, my darling, you have done so well, just one more effort.” He had not expected to be the one doing this, but he remembered being told to constantly encourage, particularly near the end. Celia steeled herself, pushing one final time, letting out a piercing scream at the same moment, pain erupting through her body once again. Finally the baby slipped free with a little assistance. Sirion held the tiny figure in his hand, pulling a knife from his boot and cutting the tube that had fed his offspring for the past two years, but his alarm continued to grow as he gently cleaned his girls face. At that moment, his two years of praying for a girl was all but forgotten, his joy dissipating as quickly as it began.

The newborns face was smeared with blood. In addition, her skin was as pale as his wife currently was. Looking back down between his wifes legs, he could see blood was slowly yet steadily running from her nethers. His eyes trailed up to Celias face, seeing the pain was still there, as intense as it had ever been during the surprisingly short birth period. Her normally deep, alert grey eyes were dull, struggling to stay open.

“Wh...What is it...love?” Celia tried to smile as she whispered the words, but the continuing pain was too great. Something was seriously wrong, that much she could tell. Sirion could rarely hide his feelings and even now she could see the lines of concern on his brow and the panic in his eyes. She could feel the blood leaking from her and, this far from the city and weak as she was, knew help would not come in time.

“A beautiful baby girl. I think Zalanthe wants to say hello.” Sirions voice faltered as he wrapped her up in his cloak even as her first cries began, bringing her to Celias arms, surprised to find that even holding her baby was a struggle for his wife. He stood and took a small step back, looking down at mother and daughter, tears welling in his eyes. Instead of the wonderful, happy occasion they had expected, he watched a tragedy he could do nothing to prevent. Celia was fading before his eyes and his newborn looked just as pale and sickly.

“She...she is...bea...beaut...beautiful” sighed Celia. Forcing the words off her lips seemed like a monumental effort, leaving her breathless. Zalanthes eyes opened slowly: small, sparkling emerald points, gazing up at her mother. Her little fingers reached up without any true aim and her tiny lips opened and closed as she cried. Soon, Celia joined Sirion in crying, gazing down at her baby, the one she had nurtured for two years and loved like nothing else in the world. “L...L...love...make sure she...she knows...I loved...”

“Nonsense” he exclaimed, cutting his wife off. His emotion was getting the better of him, weeping openly. “You will tell her yourself my love. Look! I think she is hungry, she needs her mothers’ milk.” Reaching down, her carefully pulled Celias robe back, baring a breast and guiding the newborn towards it. Zalathes tiny mouth found the nipple and began her first feed, one that Celia was convinced would be the only one she would provide.

Even as the babes’ lips wrapped around her nipple, the moon appeared from behind a cloud, directly above the three to bathe them in light. The rustling of the trees fell silent, despite the gentle breeze that continued to blow up off the water. Sirion twitched and looked around. At the very edge of hearing, a beautiful female voice seemed to sing and his heart felt glad, though at that instant he did not know why.

Celia gasped and shivered, bringing his eyes back to her. The faintest hint of color seemed to return to her cheeks under the moonlight and all semblance of pain had fallen from her face. She looked tired, like a woman who has just been through an exhausting task and not the deathly pale, fading woman she had been moments earlier. Sirion fell to his knees, tearing a strip of cloth from his tunic, gently patting at the blood between his wifes thighs. The slow, steady flow had ceased completely. Her hold on baby Zalanthe seemed to firm up, holding her now with one hand while the other stroked gently through the small mat of snow white hair on her head or giving her little fingers something to latch on to.

“Love? I think once she is done feeding we should return to the city, she looks a little pale.” Celia smiled softly, her voice croaky but much stronger.

Sirion almost crushed his wife and newborn with a hug, joy swiftly replacing the despair of minutes earlier. The gods had smiled on him this night he was sure. As Zalanthe continued to feed to the joy of her parents, a voice that belonged to neither of them rang softly in her head, despite her inability to recognise what was said, though she would hear it a number of times as she grew.

“Welcome to the world, my child.”
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Re: Zalanthe Moonglow: Memories

Post by JonnyJerny »

<333333333333333333
[22:46] <Ronan_> I once stabbed a man in Reno just to watch him bleed.
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Re: Zalanthe Moonglow: Memories

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Image

My dear...
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