A flame in the shadows

[Aelendil]

((Sorry for the length. It's a bit foreshadowing in regards to Ael's backstory, with an RP event recently ran by the 'Ward integrated in.))

He was running, down labrynthine corridors that smelled of ash, rot and embalming fluid. His footsteps thudded hollow and soft, stirring up dust on floors of this massive crypt-turned-city; it was an errant staccato that matched the beating in his chest.

He turned a corner abruptly, silver hair trailing behind him, and flattened his back against the wall with his shoulders heaving. Things were going well, if one could call it that. The 'Ward's mission would be carried out in the end and they'd still get paid, even if things hadn't gone quite so smoothly as he might have hoped for. Drawing in dust and death in quiet, measured breaths, he closed his eyes and sent his thoughts outward.

:Caede, Mekos, Kaido! We're running out of time, time to get out of here!: In the distance, he could hear the heavy trodding of an abomination, causing the priest to strain his thoughts all the more in anticipation for the inevitable affirmative sending. He knew it would come. Something tugging at the back of his conciousness told him so.

It never came, not this time.

A dagger slammed into the wall, chipping stone and buried to the hilt mere inches from where his head had been only moments before. This part he remembered. What a strange thought...

The priest barely had time to throw up his staff to poorly parry an oncoming blade, steel skittering wildly, sparks flying. He muttered a harsh, guttural prayer and flung his will, ladent with painful intent, at his attacker. Fierce blue eyes raised, he had time to see the skeletal rogue stagger back, jaw clicking in a grotesque fashion. The Forsaken wouldn't be phased for long, as the priest recalled; he was overwhelmed with a peculiar sense of deja vu as he readied his next psionic assault.

In the next instant, he was aflame with silver fires, licking hungrily at the dead earth beneath his feet. When his hand was raised, the flames snapping out to consume the rogue, it was not his own hand that did so. Finding himself locked somewhere in the distant reaches of his mind, a mere spectator, he found the will to scream. And though he wanted to say "No! This isn't how it happened! This isn't me... this isn't how it happened!" his voice would not comply. It was someone else's now.

His protests rang futiley, echoing off the walls of his mental cage. He could only watch, try to fight it, but he knew it was hopeless to try to stop the inferno as it grew by the moment, himself as the catalyst. Purging-white, the force that was not himself shook the Undercity. He knew that it could consume the foul foundations, devour it all, if only he would surrender to it.

The being that was not him, the slender, graceful atrocity at the heart of the maelstrom, began to smile, a wild and terrible thing. "This wasn't how it happened.." he pleaded.

"But it could, Chosen. And it will, when I say it is so." The voice was disembodied, rang with the timbre of the night itself. "You are mine and this world needs me, through you." It was both beautiful and horrific, the sound of Her voice. He would have been shaking, had he a body of his own to do so. He could feel himself slipping away, fading.

"No, no... Not now, not them. Not her."

There was a pause, then a roar of the fire, a chiming of moonlight like blades through the heart. The shadows themselves burst into flame, writhed in agony. Then:

"Soon." She had rich laugh, both a purr and a caress. There was more, but another voice pierced through veil, through the blister-raising brightness.

"Wake up!"

[Aelendil]

((Second part of three.))

Aelendil Silversong awoke from the dream with a shout. He was trembling, gaping as he found his limbs his own once more. He was made acutely aware of nails digging into his shoulders, causing him to raise the wild-wide eyes of a cornered beast to the stricken face of his concerned lover. Rhowen shook his shoulders again, her eyes luminescent silver in the dark of the room, glowing, growing, frighteningly lunar in appearance...

Aelendil began to shake all the harder, began to turn away. A more forceful gripping of his frame made him freeze, made him acknowledge the voice of tempered steel that threatened to break at any moment.

"You're burning." she said simply, breathless and frantic, trying to force more strength into those strange words. When she spoke again, it was in soothing, not quite desperate tones, but Ael wasn't listening. His gaze was locked disbelievingly on the sheets, still smoking and singed beneath his hands where his nails had dug deep furrows into the mattress. He could even make out the blood-brown rings of his fingerprints there.

Ael was out of the bed in a jump, throwing Rhowen's hands from him as if he might burn her. Gods, for all he knew, he might. He stumbled to the window in shaking, jerking steps, tried to ignore the look of hurt on his beloved's face. He didn't want to hurt her, but what if it happened now? What if it consumed not only him, but the both of them? Aelendil threw open the shutters of the single window of the room, leaned heavily on the frame. He gast a baleful glance skyward. The moon was passing behind a veil of clouds and Ael's knuckles were white against the wood beneath his hands.

"...What was it?" Damnit, she was brave, he thought. Her hands, tender, and forcibly still, came to drift over his chest; He did not pull away, only drew in a deep breath. He had to talk to her, took strength in the comfort of her warmth against his back. It was soothing, could never burn him...

"...It was Her." Yes, that was a good way to start. He felt her tense, but she did not pull away and he took that as an opportunity to take her hands in his own and hold them where they were. He continued, slowly, but increasing at a pace that was not quite panic "...I dreamt of the last job, the one in the Undercity. It was different this time. We - I - failed." He paused then, squeezed her hands. "They never answered my call and then She came. And then I was gone. I wasn't myself. There was fire and light and it could swallow us all, were She to will it-"

Rhowen unlaced one hand from his own and her finger to his lips silenced him before he could get any worse. His breath caught in his throat and the panic slowly began to subside, but only a little. Ael was forced to study the grain of the wood next to his hips, to keep himself from looking skyward.

The warrior whispered softly in the dark, with more sureness this time. "Stop. It was just a dream and She won't harm you here." Before the inevitable outburst, she turned Aelendil toward her and silenced him with a kiss. When it was ended, the priest pacified but his eyes still vaguely haunted by a wild light, Rhowen cupped a hand to his cheek. "Come back to bed. I'll protect you from Her. You won't hurt me." She added after a moment, fiercely. "I'm strong enough, Silversong."

Aelendil could only blink at her awkwardly for some time, before he felt some of that familiar strength well into him, starting in his chest. It was enough. He nodded mutely, let a half-smile bloom upon his lips, and gave in when she pulled him back in the direction of the sheets that were only slightly singed under closer inspection. She lay him down, took a few seconds to close the shutters again, and then joined him, calming him with just being near. He held her in the dark and she him, until they both fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

[Aelendil]

((Third and final part to this post.))

It was just so real... Aelendil made his way through the thouroughfare of Stormwind with his traditional graceful stride, flowing through the crowds as he made his way towards the Bank of Stormwind and more importantly the mailbox out front. He clutched a parcel in his hands carefully, addressed discreetly to an employer who valued such things. The price of secrecy was valuable and such a thought should have brought a roguish smirk to Ael's lips. It didn't, today. He let his thoughts wander as he drew closer to his destination.

The mission went damned well, nothing at all like that.. nightmare. He tried to convince himself it was only that, but his conviction was lacking. We got in, got what we were paid to get, at least as much as we could at the time, and got out. There was no Avatar, no silver flame. There never will be. I won't let that happen. The silent promise seemed hollow, even repeated over again in his head.

He stopped at the mailbox, checked the encoded address of the recipient again, even though he knew it was correct. It paid to be cautious, in his line of work. He took special care depositing the mail to be sent off. Never know when this gnomish technology will decide to blow up, break, or do something otherwise bad for profit. I hope our employers have the necessary resources to examine what we managed to get our hands on, but that's not my problem now. Out of my hands. Like so much these days... The young, ambitious priest shook his head forcefully, scattered the thoughts like so many dry leaves. Now was not the time.

Satisfied, he paid the necessary fees and headed back into the crowd, his thoughts still threatening to spill over and overwhelm him. He willed them to come slowly, in a measured stream, more mental discipline half-taught and half-talent. He focused on the matter of business, or tried to at least. We did a good job on that one.. And there's only more to come. I can't forget to send those other letters and to check up with our contacts. I'll have to budget my time, make sure to stop in and have a drink with Finn. I should buy her something, something nice.. I'll have to fit it in, somewhere in there. The days seem so short, now. It could have been taken for serious deliberation, but Aelendil knew better. He was avoiding the obvious and couldn't afford it.

Pausing to take a seat at the edge of a picturesque fountain, Ael subconciously laced his hands together in his lap, studied the stones. If only he could be like -that- , untouched and unmovable. Eternal, immune to all but the scuff of countless wandering feet, taking in the little pieces of thousands of stories every day. Those stones still shone and still would, he had no doubt, centuries from now.

Whether he wanted to or not, Aelendil found himself gazing skyward a moment later. Through the clouds, the sun was setting, and the vague outline of the rising moon shone pale, a fierce crescent against shades of blue and gold. It was all a matter of time.

And his was running out.

[Rhowen-Prea]

(( Bumped for blushing love. Again, always such a talent, but you don't need me to tell you that. ))