[ ACTIVE / CLOSED ]

[bythelight]

Who: Anduin Llane Wrynn & friends both new and old
What: TDM overflow, Event Shenanigans and some other general starters. Come find me on the plotting post if you want to plan something!
When: September
Where: Various!

Content Warnings: Grief, blood ritual, dead parent thoughts, heavy regrets.



ARIADNE (EVENT) | CATRA (EVENT) | FAOLAN (TDM) | FLYNN FAIRWIND (TDM) | MICHAEL (EVENT) |

Comments

[bythelight]

He sits back, staring down at the sash then sideways at Melog.

"I'm told this month is considered a month of sacrifice, in Trench. People here bury something that represents the past, as a promise to themselves to move on. Apparently if the ritual is performed correctly a flower will grow."

It probably all sounds silly to Catra. He has the suspicion everything he says and does sounds that way, to her. Reaching out he rests a hand on Melong's head, rubbing gently between the creature's ears. There's something soothing about the action, and it eases a knot in his chest.

"I thought I may as well give it a try. We've been brought to this place, led to it by the powers here. The more we understand it, the better chance we have of surviving."

[serment]

Underneath Anduin's hand, Melog makes a soft, chirping 'mrruph' noise. They are nothing but friendly, bumping and attempting to nuzzle Anduin's hand as much as able from their current position. At least, between the two of them, Melog seems happy to see the boy and isn't afraid to make that known.

From this close, it's obvious that the creature has been washed very recently. They smell floral like soap, almost as if someone felt the need to aggressively clean them after their squid adventures.

"I heard about something like that," Catra states, folding her arms across her chest. She flicks her gaze from his face to his hands then to the sash folded up neatly against the ground. Admittedly, she's interested to know if something like that might work or if they were just getting fed some dumb nonsense. It easily felt like it could be either or.

She steps a little closer, moving to crouch down nearby but not too close to him.

"What are you burying for this then?"

[bythelight]

An excellent question. Anduin slides his hand down from Melog's head, around the creature's shoulders to rub affectionately at its chest and leans into its side.

"It's -- part of my uniform, I suppose."

He can't think of a better way to describe it, without giving far too much away. No doubt Shaw would recommend he doesn't go around advertising his exact title, even if so far it means nothing to any of the locals and he's yet to see any Horde soldiers.

"I've spent a long time trying to live up to it, trying not to disappoint people."

Difficult when those around him all strive for different goals.

"yet to see any Horde soldiers."

[serment]

What kind of answer is that meant to be? He supposes? It feels like a dodge, a way to provide a watered down answer without telling an outright lie. While she couldn't really say that she knew Anduin in any sort of significant way, it didn't take much to assume that he's probably someone who wouldn't want to be untruthful unless he had to be.

She knows his type.

Catra scoffs.

"Your uniform?"

She flicks her finger towards the folded up piece of fabric resting nearby, gesturing to it as if there were something immediately obvious about it that would make his statement questionable.

"You don't look like the military type, Blondie. School uniform or something?" she continues to ask, poking at it just a little further. She knows that isn't how it works, that anyone can get swept up into a unit, that it isn't always a close, but Anduin. . . just feels too soft.