Libelle

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About Libelle

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  • Birthday 03/25/1989

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  1. Libelle clanked along a dust-choked road in Westfall, aching for a drink of water. She hadn’t thought to bring any along with her. Her constant companion and battle-chicken, Spockbock, raced along the road in front of her, all too aware of the danger involved, and casting Libelle frequent derisive glances. She knew it was dangerous, of course, and had come prepared with a disguise—a pair of heavy dark glasses and a head scarf wrapped tightly over the crown of her head. The scarf scrunched her ears uncomfortably down against her head, but at least it disguised their shape. Mostly. The problem was, some of her Blood Knight training struck her as unspeakably brutal. And she felt that she needed to atone for it. She continued telling herself that it was worth it to be of some help to her cousin, Exanimo, and becoming a skilled healer would allow her to do some great good in the end. But for now she could barely fix a wounded squirrel, and she felt called to make up for her sins by heading into enemy territory and leaving lavish gift baskets on people’s doorsteps. It seemed logical. She had one last gift basket to deliver, and had her eye on a farmhouse shimmering at her dustily from a mile or two down the road. She was so focused on her goal that she nearly stepped right into the horrific dismembered corpse of an old murloc. It was Spockbock’s warning squawk which saved her. She looked down, her plated boot poised for her next step, and shrieked. Her hands flew to her mouth, and she very nearly dropped her gift basket. The murloc’s corpse was mangled and stinking, and beginning to buzz with flies. “Oh, Spockbock,” Libelle whispered. “I think it was run over.” Spockbock clucked. After a lengthy, horrified stare, Libelle managed to dislodge her gaze from the corpse, and direct it towards the broad trail of murloc footprints leading across the road. “Do you know what we should do, Spockbock?” she said, her voice hushed respectfully. Spockbock pecked at the ground. “We should take my last basket to his family.” She reluctantly looked back down at the bloody mess in front of her. “But first, we should give him a funeral.” Spockbock gave her a beady look. If chickens could sigh, he would have.
  2. Libelle blinked and gazed around the room. In this mind-space her perceptions were different, more immediate, and already her memories of the burning house were beginning to fade. Her gaze trailed towards the burning dummy and hung there for a moment until she turned away, shuddering. She eyed the girl apprehensively. Libelle did not do well with others' anger. "Uhm...who is it that you're talking about?" This talk of killing was no good. She had to try to calm the girl down. Libelle felt a faint stirring of air at her cheek, and glanced over to see a white moth alighting on her shoulder. Yes, Fluttersnuff could help.
  3. Libelle's fists clenched at the little girl's words. She didn't know exactly what had happened, but she was sure that it had been horrible. That wasn't important at the moment, though. She had to get the girl out of the house. Sparks were falling from the ceiling and smoke billowed around their heads, making Libelle's eyes water. Spockbock crowed and started pecking furiously at the rubble underneath the girl, attempting to free whoever had been caught. Libelle bit her lip. "Don't worry, you're all right," Libelle said to the girl. "You aren't caught under anything." Maybe the smoke and the flames were making the girl a little bit crazy. "We have to get you out before the house keeps collapsing, though." She stepped toward the girl to take her arm and gently try to pull her away from the rubble.
  4. The shapes around Libelle were nebulous. Was she in a village? On a farmstead? She couldn't tell. The air was filmed with smoke and red flames danced at the periphery of her vision, always dancing away if she tried to look at them directly. Spockbock's small black form retreated before her and she sprinted to keep up. Then out of the haze lurched a tall, ravaged house. Flames spurted out of its windows. Spockbock tripped forward and crowed, pointing his beak at a figure standing by the doorway. It was a young elf girl--her face covered in soot and her hair disheveled. She gave Libelle a startled look and dashed through the gaping doorway into the flaming house. "What--stop, don't go in there!" Libelle cried. Spockbock gave her a one-eyed glare and scrambled after the girl. Libelle gaped into the red-tinged darkness beyond the doorway. She sucked in a deep breath and lunged after the girl and her chicken.
  5. The light dissolved into softness. Libelle was surrounded by nothing—but the nothing was close, snug, pressing in on her from the sides, supporting her from below. She was unconscious of the sensation that she was floating downward until her feet alighted on a hard surface. Her hair settled around her shoulders. The ground was rough through the thin soles of her shoes. Libelle looked down. The ground beneath her feet was illuminated by a low light that had no discernable source or direction. A narrow cobbled road stretched ahead and behind. The grassy terrain to either side of the road withered into darkness. Libelle squinted ahead. She could see a red, flickering light in the distance. “I don’t like this,” Libelle muttered. She hugged her arms to her chest. “I really wish Spockbock or someone were here.” “Bock,” said a voice. It was a young woman’s voice, high and clear, but it sounded like it came from the ground. Libelle flinched and looked down. Her slate-gray rooster, Spockbock, glared up at her with a glittering eye. His back was hard and featherless, and glowed in the dim light. Libelle bent and peered closer at him. A similar shell covered his breast, and his head was adorned with a small metal cap, slotted to let his comb poke through. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that, Spockbock,” Libelle chided. “You scared me.” She frowned. “Where did you find chicken armor?” Spockbock ruffled his stubby wings and gave a peremptory peck at the cobbles. Libelle sighed, and looked towards the light ahead. “I guess we better go that way,” she said. She stepped forward. Spockbock’s talons tapped on the stone behind her. The orange light was distant. Libelle squinted, but its source was impossible to make out. She took another step. The light rushed forward. A blaze exploded upwards on the left side of the road. Spockbock squawked in his woman’s voice. Libelle staggered sideways, covering her face against the heat. She peered through her fingers. Flames leapt up the trunk of a tree and into its spreading branches. She lowered her hands to cover her mouth, and backed away. Movement flashed at the edge of her vision. Libelle wheeled around to see a dark, petite figure sprinting away down the road. The air in that direction was thick and dark, but Libelle could make out a cluster of large, square shapes on either side of the road, backlit by hot, unsteady light. Spockbock crowed and charged after the girl. “But—wait!” Libelle cried. She wrung her hands and moaned. “Ohhhhhmygoodness. Fine. I’m coming.” She clamped her fingers together and stumbled after the rooster.
  6. <p>Um...a good gin and tonic?</p>

  7. <p>Hey Keraph, what's your favorite thing in the world?</p>

  8. Libelle wasn't entirely sure what was going on. She was disoriented, bound inside of some sort of apparatus--and, as she slowly came to realize, Malethia was pacing about outside, talking animatedly. "You're going to give me your soul." Libelle scrunched her eyes. Her head pounded. She wasn't aware that giving someone your soul was possible. Maybe Malethia was speaking figuratively? She remembered vaguely that Malethia preferred women...was this Malethia's idea of romance? If so, she had really gone crazy. This train of thought wandered away as something white caught her eye. It was Fluttersnuff, flittering in the back corner of the room, and alighting on the wall. She couldn't think straight. Her head throbbed. She squinted at Malethia. "What?"
  9. Libelle stood in the courtyard formed between the two wings of the manner. Straight ahead, in the circular section at the manor's apex, seemed the most logical place to make an entrance. Fluttersnuff took off from her shoulder and flapped encouragingly ahead. Libelle followed. As she approached the chapel, she saw that the tall door at its center stood wide open. This seemed a little odd, but she supposed that it was a rather nice day after all, and either Malethia or a servant was waiting inside, close enough to hear when she announced herself. Fluttersnuff disappeared through the door, and Libelle followed after. The air inside the manor was oddly still. With a guilty glance at Fluttersnuff's flittering wings, Libelle found herself wishing that she had brought her guard-chicken instead. "Hello?" Her voice echoed weakly through the entry way. Something rustled behind her. Then came a sudden flash of light, and afterwards, blackness.
  10. <p>Kaykay, we're gonna try getting it moved along a bit, so just let us know if you're thinking of posting in the beginning part or if you want to wait till later!</p>

  11. <p>Yessiree.</p>

  12. <p>Hay heller, were you one of the ones who wanted in on the guild nether legend?</p>

  13. Libelle gazed uncertainly at the large manor before her. Malethia had mentioned the place before, but she had never seen it. Now that it came down to it, she was a little bit nervous. What would they talk about? Would Malethia start acting all crazy? Would they even be able to carry on a conversation? Libelle swallowed. Her face twitched in response to a tickling sensation at her cheek. Fluttersnuff, her white moth, landed reassuringly on her shoulder. His little feet pricked gently through the fabric of her gown. Squaring her shoulders, she strode forward towards the manor's front door. If all else failed, they could talk about Fluttersnuff. That's what she usually did.
  14. Usually when Libelle got mail, it was from her cousin Exanimo, and it was a reminder that she wasn't allowed to talk to any of the boys in Silvermoon because he had already claimed them and they all belonged to him. Either that, or it was propaganda from the priesthood in Silvermoon, informing her gently that she was on the roster but she wasn't showing up for the weekly meetings, and that good priests liked to donate their time and money occasionally. Sometimes her mailbox just had rocks in it. But today she was pleasantly surprised but a little perturbed to find a letter from an old friend of hers. An old friend who had recently gone completely crazy. Of course she couldn't refuse an invitation like that. She had known all along that Malethia wasn't actually evil. Libelle had gone through a phase like that in her fifties, anyway, when she wore a lot of black and wouldn't even try to talk to birds. So she immediately set to work scribbling out a response. She would be going to see Malethia on the following evening.