paradisalost | ☠.21

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☠.21

[Anyone out and about this time of night may come across two vaguely familiar figures silently patrolling the halls. They are elves, sure enough, but their eyes are burning red, their hair and skin pallid. Weaponry adorns their black, ornate armor; well-used swords at hips and longbows crafted from bone slung over shoulders. They move with grace and without sound, their fiery eyes nearly unblinking.

Most attempts to flag them down will result in a wary glance and little else, but if any are feeling ambitious, they're more than welcome to try harder.

For the most part, though, they are standing guard outside room 425.

After a time, a voice carries over the journal. It's perhaps a bit familiar, but with a cold echo to it.]

The Dark Lady has not returned yet. Shall we seek her out?

[And another voice, with the same unearthly echo responds.]

Not yet, sister. She will return. Remember -- patience, discipline.

[ooc. loss start!!! vereesa and alleria are now dark rangers. open in person or over the journal!]

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[It had been a fair amount of time since Sylvanas last saw her sisters. In the midst of traipsing about the world, in the midst of the fall of Arthas, in the midst of feuding with pompous Alliance kings over the journal system, and in the midst of strange otherworldly holidays, there were quite a few things on the banshee's plate.

But as the seasons changed and the castle quieted, Sylvanas could not help but seek them out. Upon finding no answer from behind the door in which they owned, the banshee was beside herself with confusion. And so, she would find herself looking about the castle, perhaps to the room of hers that changed so drastically.]

[It was a nice and quiet night. Cross was enjoying his wine in his room, although he was itching to take another late-night walk, and then here come these echo-y voices that do not belong to Sylvanas. But, they sound so eerily familiar. Plus, they sound like Forsaken since they referred to Sylvanas as "the Dark Lady" so...]

Need some assistance looking for the Dark Lady?

[Step by step, the banshee would find herself feeling something stir up inside of her-- a strange familiar sense that could only be recognized as the similar accursed magic that had brought her from the darkness that was death itself.

Could it be? Had there really been more Forsaken entering this realm? Why, the thought only made her travel a bit faster, if not disapparating to the exact floor in which she lived, taking a greater stride to the door guarding her quarters, and to that effect?

She would quickly find the sight before her.]

[Dark Rangers! Ah, yes. Her most loyal and most keen of her sort.

At the sight, she could not help but approach them slowly, with the greatest of dignity-- but when she catches sight of their faces, ears nearly pin back with defensive hesitation, she blade quickly drawn.]

What-- what sort of sick, twisted mockery is this?

[Her tone is dark, her tone is lowered. Behind her words is the sort of violent anger that would not be held back easily. Whatever illusion the castle was holding over her would not be greeted well.]

[Dark Lady! Ah, yes. Her ... sister.

Alleria is seemingly unfazed by Sylvanas's anger, and instead inclines her head respectfully, offering a salute to her queen.]

Dark Lady. What ails you?

[Vereesa's response is less calm, her own hand resting upon the hilt of her blade, ears perked as she glances down the hall for any signs of what may have upset Sylvanas.]

If there is any trouble about, allow us to cut it down for you.

[The banshee is less than casual, her blade still raised-- though she makes no intention of approaching either figure. The fact that they look so much like her sisters, the fact they sounded just like them...

It was more than enough to make her lose herself.

Her voice raises, and if there was any scrutinizing of her form, one would notice her usually steady swordhand shaking. Teeth grind against each other, and ears flick as eyes narrow.]

What accursed-- [A pause.] These forms have no place here. Show your true nature!

[It's as though she is speaking to an enemy who is simply playing games with her.]

...This illusion, do you find it amusing?

[At that, Alleria becomes concerned -- she too reaches for the blade at her hip, casting furtive glances around the hall through narrowed, red eyes. Her ears swivel constantly, trying to suss out what is disturbing their queen so.]

What do you see, sister? What assails you but does not make itself known to us?

[She is on edge now, gripping the handle of her sword though she has yet to draw it.]

What illusion? I do not see one.

[Vereesa's eyes narrow in frustration. Whatever was causing their sister such annoyance would surely rue the day they dared approach the Dark Lady. She wastes no time in moving away from the door to seek out the source of the illusion.]

Alleria, search left, and I shall take right. I will not stand idly by as our sister is troubled so.

[What? What did they say? What did they--

No. No, no, no. No, they couldn't possibly!

The abject horror is apparent on Sylvanas' otherwise subdued features as she contemplates immediately running her blade through one of the forms before her.]

You're not-- You are not real!

[Now Alleria does draw her sword, instantly trotting down the hall on silent feet.]

Worry not, Dark Lady. We shall find this disturbance for you, and end it.

[Something causes Vereesa to turn, and she notices that the Dark Lady is not looking at something she cannot see; she is looking her and Alleria.

Her head tilts just slightly, pausing in her tracks a moment.]

Do you refer to... us, my Lady?

[And when the form addresses her, Sylvanas cannot help but raise her blade at her-- it.]

Accursed castle. You will not toy with my memories in such a way.

[When Vereesa speaks, Alleria turns as well, her ears flattening in confusion. Their queen ... not knowing who they are? What is happen?

And then Sylvanas begins to attack, and Alleria is frozen but for a second. She sprints back down the hall, sword at the ready.]

Vereesa -- she is bewitched, do not harm her! Subdue her if you can; we must not let anything happen to her! My Lady, sister, please --

[Her ears flick in this vision's direction as she turns her body to meet the so-called Alleria's eyes. Her features are livid as she steps forth to brandish her weapon at her-- and in seconds, lunging for her with her own blade.]

You dare to mock my sisters' images? I assure you. You will pay!

[Were they not sisters, Vereesa would dare not attempt to restrain her. She held so much respect for the Dark Lady that even if she were to strike her, she might very well allow it. She owed everything to Sylvanas.

But sisters they were, and to keep her from running Alleria through, she dashes forward to grab Sylvanas's arms, doing her best to restrain her without presenting herself as a threat.]

Sylvanas, sister! Have you fallen prey to a loss? It is us! We dare not bring you harm, nor have we ever!

[...some sick and twisted part of him is amused by this. That part of him makes the rest of him nauseous.

But they weren't exactly on the best of terms to begin with. No harm in a little bit of ribbing now that they were undead, right? RIGHT?]

You sound as if you've both caught a nasty sort of plague.

[...yeah, he can't justify this.]

[ARTHAS GET OUT. There might have been a part deep down inside that felt a little sorry for him when she was still alive, but now that she's undead? Her hatred is unending.

She doesn't even want to regard him, knowing well enough that he's locked away and in a rather pathetic state. But as impatient and easily riled as she is, she allows for a low growl of disapproval. ARTHAS PLZ.]

My sincerest apologies, my lady, but I'm afraid I don't speak that dialect. Lower it an octave for me.

[You know...closer to Common Gutterspeak instead of some weird Thalassian Gutterspeak hybrid GOSH, DON'T YOU HAVE ANY CULTURAL SENSITIVITY?]

[WELL EXCUSE HER ACCENT. JUST RAISE THE UNDEAD AND DON'T EVEN BOTHER LEARNING THEIR LANGUAGE, ASSHOLE, WE ALL SEE HOW IT IS.]

Go back to rotting in your pathetic little prison hole.

[HE'S THE BOSS HERE, GET USED TO IT.]

I'd have a difficult time rotting much further, I think.

[Alleria instantly brings her sword up in a defensive posture, in case Vereesa's attempts at restraint are not enough.]

Of course -- it must be a loss. My Lady, we have always been like this; please try to remember!

[BUSTIN' IN HERE, DON'T TALK TO MY SISTER THAT WAY]

Try harder. We have faith in you, Arthas.

[BITCH PLS, FUCKING KING OF THE LICHES, I DO WHAT I WANT.]

After all this time? I'm flattered.

[INCORRECT]

Flattered that we're urging you to rot? Perhaps your brain's already gone.

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☠.21

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/dying-- oh wait

:3c

/gently sobbing

/VIOLENTLY SCREAMING

/casually wails

8(

YOU GUYS

YES ... also i'm going to bed, SKIP ME \o/

/screws with order until you get back

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