[identity profile] liadrin.livejournal.com
 [Liadrin sits on Koltira's bed with her journal open and settled in her lap. She pauses before addressing the fresh, blank page, letting the words pen themselves along with the sound of her voice.]

A notice to those who know me or-- rather, those who know me as well as any who may be looking for me for healing or counseling purposes.

I have decided to abandon my room in the castle in favor of the cabin built by Thassarian and Koltira here in the woods. It is not far, and I would still welcome any company should my services be needed.

...I simply required something that was more like...home

[ooc: Open post as usual! :3]
[identity profile] liadrin.livejournal.com
 [Liadrin stands at the foot of the woods, peering into the darkness in quiet consideration before she moves further into the thicket, finding Koltira's cabin and rapping her knuckles against the door.]

Koltira? Are you here? 

[Her ears are flicked backwards, pinned against the sides of her head.] I wish to speak with you. I know the hour is late but you do not sleep, so I did not think it an intrusion.


[ooc: obviously it is an action post for Koltira Deathweaver, but Liadrin took her time getting outside from her room in the castle, so if you want to spot her anywhere on the grounds as she heads over there, feel free. <3 ]
[identity profile] deadelfwalking.livejournal.com
[Backdated to this morning!]

[Koltira's in the woods, loudly chopping lumber for Thassarian's cabin like a manly man, stripped down to his breeches, greaves and boots. He has been at this tirelessly for several hours, and only stops when his long, sensitive ears prick forward at the sound of many twigs breaking.]

[Liadrin strides up with tiny arms clasped around her neck as she carries a small elven child of about five years old on her back. The little girl beams over the paladin's shoulder, strawberry blonde hair and unearthly azure blue eyes shining in the light.] Koltira, we need to talk...

[She pauses briefly at the sight of him without a shirt. Oh. Hi.]

[Koltira drops the axe in his hand; it cleaves squarely and deeply into the ground.]

What is that on your neck.

It would seem the castle has given us a child. [The little girl waves eagerly at Koltira.] I say 'us' because these eyes are not mine, nor is her hair.

[Koltira is more than a little stunned. The trick seems crueler because, obviously, he will never be able to naturally father a child.]

... This place.

[She drops the child to the ground and lets her wander over to inspect him further.] Who knows how long it will last...If need be, I can keep her with me, so she does not disturb your work.

[He reaches to touch the girl's hand.] Did you name her?

[She chirps out a happy little, 'Hello!' before latching onto his arm.] Not yet.

[He mutters.] Let's call her Merriel.

Merriel it is, then.

[Koltira is blue, Liadrin is red--feel free to hear and come across all the racket.]

Comfort

May. 12th, 2011 05:42 pm
[identity profile] liadrin.livejournal.com
I have realized that even though this world is not fond of constants, there are some things it cannot keep from us. Life itself is a cycle, is it not? And though we may lose such things as memories, strengths and even items of great value, our existence is always assured. Through that, we are promised great joy and sorrow in equal amounts, but never are we without something to our name. Never are we so lost that there isn't a path out of darkness.

I was...afraid that my time here had taken away the security of my identity, as if it was something that could be defined. As if I would lose the little shards of memories and emotions that piece together to make me who I am, but I realize now that even if I lost everything, I will never lose myself. I am both matriarch and destroyer, and there is no shame in that. It is balance. Acceptance. The nature of all living creatures.

Therefore I will resume my work once more. From this moment on, if you are wounded-- physically or otherwise-- and in need of aid, I will always be here to assist. Healing is an art which I have had quite some time to perfect.

I will be in the gardens.

-Lady Liadrin

[There is a less formal note tacked onto the bottom of the page.]


Deathwing,

We should speak when you have a moment.


[With that out of the way, Liadrin settles down in a quiet spot amongst the flowers and weaves a few spells simply to reconnect herself with the Light. There is no purpose to it, but the air is warm and comforting, and filled with a radiant, golden glow. It doesn't compare to the Sunwell that she finds herself missing so much, but it is something, and it does help.]


[ooc: Open as always! I'm going to grab a bite to eat real fast but then I will be back to tag <3 Liadrin's dispensing healing spells and soothing magic, so if your character is in need of some TLC and comfort, or just general healing, or even chatting, come on in and bother her.

sidenote: If your character is undead or demonic in nature, they will probably NOT be soothed by the Light. Actually, it'll probably hurt a bit. So uh...careful there!]
[identity profile] deadelfwalking.livejournal.com
Who: [livejournal.com profile] deadelfwalking & [livejournal.com profile] liadrin
What: Koltira does not take kindly to Liadrin's recent philosophizin'
When: A couple of days ago, shortly after she made her most recent post
Where: Castle grounds methinks
Rating: Pears

'Cos I'm taken by you taking me apart. )
[identity profile] liadrin.livejournal.com
 [Liadrin sits outside admiring the garden at night, and brushing her fingers over each within reach as she thinks quietly to herself. She's torn-- torn and bothered by more than she's willing to admit. She'd like to tear the rose beneath her hand to pieces just as much as she wants to see it flourish and grow...]

Have you ever felt as if there's another side of you? As if everything you are is somehow mirrored, and dormant, and all it would take is the right circumstance to...

[She half smiles for no reason in particular and smooths down a petal before withdrawing and setting her attention on the darkened sky instead.]  

....to change who you are entirely?
[identity profile] liadrin.livejournal.com
 [Liadrin is reclining comfortably on a bench in town, one leg crossed over the other, arms propped up behind her head. It's oddly informal for someone so ritually hung up on knightly conduct, but these days it's beginning to seem a little less important. She can cool down, let go of her hang ups-- just -relax-, and she likes that feeling. It's liberating.

The elf reaches over to her pack, picking up her journal with one hand-- the other still propping up her neck-- and addressing it]

It's so strange to think of all the restrictions we place on ourselves for whatever reason. It is true that some are necessary to function in proper society, and others for survival itself, but some...some we place on ourselves for no reason at all other than to have that control there in the first place.

And truly, complete control is impossible to attain, isn't it? Especially here...

Perhaps it would be better to simply let go and give in.


[ooc: Open as always via journal or in person. Pester the ladyelf, I dare you. :3 <3 I may be slow to respond because I have work in a few, but I will respond!]

IV: Light

Feb. 25th, 2011 08:25 pm
[identity profile] liadrin.livejournal.com
Well, as much of a supporter of love and compassion as I am, I must admit that was a rather...cruel holiday. Perhaps no worse than what the apothecaries managed to brew up, but unkind all the same. I do hope that no one was severely harmed by it all. Physical wounds always mend, but, Light, the emotional ones are so much harder to even begin to stitch back together.

Koltira, I apologize for what I said to you before. You had every right to be upset and I...was...I am willfully ignorant of the truth.

Maybe that is just how I have taken to coping with things since the Sunwell's restoration. Faith came so easily with the Naaru, with the Well, so close that all I had to do was reach out and find the strength that I needed and had been searching for all along. Here it is much different. Here I must rely on my memories of those things to suffice and they...they simply do not hold as well as I had hoped. The fault lies with me, of course, but what else is there to do but recite what I wish to believe over and over again until it is made real? That is the way of hope, is it not? Even if I falter, I have to hold on to that spark, lest it fade and take all that I am with it.

You are a strong soul-- you and Thassarian both. Stronger than I am, to face the trials that were set in your path. My own pale in comparison. But I regret neither your course, nor mine, for they managed to bring us together in a way I could never have foreseen.

[She sounds tired. Weary.] I am grateful...and.... and I am sorry. [And with that the journal is dropped to the floor of the hallway, Liadrin collapsing with it. The withdrawal is just too much for her to take anymore, and she's too exhausted to maintain the mask of normalcy anymore.]

[ooc: Really, really ill elf on the floor of floor twelve. APPROACH WITH CAUTION IF YOU ARE A MAGIC USER, but feel free to approach her all the same. She's in a lot of pain, she could use some company. ._. ]

➹.9

Jan. 29th, 2011 07:20 pm
[identity profile] arrowonthewind.livejournal.com
[The past month had been an exercise in patience.

Every day, Alleria woke up and had to restrain herself from simply marching down to the manor where Arthas Menethil kept himself, and putting out his eye with an arrow. But even through her fury, she understood that such a thing was foolish, to go by herself.

She even worried that the small contingent she'd gathered would not be enough.

But she didn't allow herself to dwell on such thoughts for long. No. Doubting their assured victory would only lessen her resolve, make her weak and destroy her concentration. She would not allow herself any distractions, and this included second-guessing herself, or her compatriots.

They would win. There was no other possible outcome.

And so, Alleria is atop her steed, waiting in the orchards as she'd indicated. Her mount tosses its head occasionally, pawing anxiously at the ground, as if sensing its mistress's impatience to move out. Not such a difficult task, really; Alleria is visibly tense, gripping her bow tight in her hands, muscles taut as her green, slanted eyes flick about, scanning the area for any threats -- or for her companions.]


[ooc. closed to those who are tagged! guys, head on over to the aim chat "failraid" for plottings, if you want! also, gimme a second to get threads up and ready before you tag in ... GO GO GO]
[identity profile] liadrin.livejournal.com
[Liadrin's been quiet lately, though it's not a decision she relishes in the slightest. She'd always rather be in the thick of things, helping those around her with all the strength the Light has granted.

But there's a problem with that, particularly when the Light is so quickly losing its potency-- or rather, when you lose the ability to make it so. 

The frequent scribbles and calculations have lessened as the pains of withdrawal increase, and though she cares no less about her goals, the idea of completing them seems too far gone at this point. The elf looks no less cheerful, however, resting on the grounds just outside the castle with her journal nestled neatly in her lap. She doesn't speak at first, but instead writes a few lines on the parchment.
]

''Silvery moon washed in blood,  led astray into the night, armed with the sword of broken Light.  Broken, then betrayed by one, standing there bestride the sun.  At darkest hour, redemption comes, in knightly lady sworn to blood."

[Ink spots converge on the last line as Liadrin taps her quill against the page.]

Tell me something, Paradisa...what is the one thing you love most about this place? Or more than one thing, if there are others.


[open as always over journal or in person! She's a bit worse for wear, but company is her favorite remedy.]
[identity profile] liadrin.livejournal.com
[Being a cat isn't so bad, Liadrin thinks while bathing herself in a patch of sun at the castle's entrance. For one, there's no withdrawal, no cravings or hunger, and the urge to nap away most of the day is a much more satisfying substitute.

The red-furred little tiger cub is incapable of purring, but she's certainly making quite a few happy noises as she lies out on her back, all four paws in the air. In fact, she seems very much like a normal tiger save for those tell-tale burning emerald eyes that glow with their own inner light.
]


[ooc: Liadrin is an infectious tiger cub! All my Warcats and fellow Parapeople who want to be cat-ified come and coddle her. Or nearly step on her. Or throw something at the noisy elf-cat.]
[identity profile] liadrin.livejournal.com
Who:  [livejournal.com profile] liadrin 
What: Miscalculations are troubling things that lead to even more troubling discoveries.
When: January 7th, at about 3:15 am
Where: Liadrin's room
Rating: About as PG as sunshine and rainbows, even if the log is pretty much the exact opposite.

Let the countdown begin... )
[identity profile] liadrin.livejournal.com
[Liadrin leans back in the saddle of her Charger, legs crossed casually with her journal open in her lap at the edge of the hillside that overlooks the city. Those residents who have paid close attention to the pages of their own journals these past few days are probably annoyed, as various ink spatterings, runes, symbols and sketches have been almost incessantly drawn over the pages of Liadrin's journal, and no doubt unknowingly transmitted to the other books as well.

Anyone familiar with magic ( holy magic in particular) from Azeroth should easily recognize these marks as calculations for spell work. The process is unconventional, but for the most part it seems to be based around the more common methods of channeling the Light directly.

The elf huffs, adding another scribble to the page, though this one is obviously just out of frustration. She finally speaks; her tone is even and controlled, but obviously a bit too much to be considered natural.
]

I am well aware that these books are enchanted to transmit what is spoken through them. So I would like to ask for a favor from those of you who might know where I might be able to find a magical relic in this world-- or something akin to it. It is vital for what I am trying to accomplish and I would be willing to compensate for valuable information, or if you possess one, in exchange for the relic itself.

I do not care if I have to travel across this world in order to retrieve something like it, but I absolutely require something born of magic, with the ability to absorb it. I know magic is a part of this world, and I am determined to understand how it interacts with that of ours.

...and perhaps weave the two into one.
[ooc: As usual, cut for ooc placesetting sketchery. :3 ] )
[identity profile] liadrin.livejournal.com
--what the--

[Liadrin briefly breathes out a confused stream of Thalassian while wide, unnaturally radiant green eyes scan the lobby of the castle as a child would take in their first few images of something foreign; her breathing is slow, awed to say the least.

Heavy, armor-plated boots take a cautious step forward, and she pauses as her foot makes contact with the journal at her feet. The elf's ears flatten against the sides of her head as her gaze falls upon it before perking fully forward curiously. Her fingers grasp its cover in one hand, ornate halberd pressed against the floor with the other. In fact, Liadrin is-- despite her wonder at the castle-- a rather peculiar sight herself; a slender, elegantly poised creature covered almost completely in armor that looks more suited to someone much more...imposing.
]

A teleportation spell, perhaps? I wonder if this belongs to the mage that cast it.  [Warmth, flowing softly from the tips of her fingers, seeps into the pages as she thumbs through them.]  Most certainly not one of the Sin'dorei-- this architecture is far too human.

[She glances up once more, this time searching for someone with some answers, the charm of it all slowly wearing thin without a host to welcome her. Poor etiquette, to say the least. Her voice is clear and demanding as she calls out, echoing through the halls as well as simultaneously bleeding though to the journal.] This is Lady Liadrin, leader of the Blood Knights, guardian of the Sunwell. Why have you summoned me?

...And where in the name of the Light am I?

[OOC: Cut for sketchydoodle imagery. <3] )
[identity profile] oftheforsaken.livejournal.com
[The eye is treated to a brilliant landscape of of warm colors and shades of purple, hundreds upon hundreds of healthy, beautiful trees as far as said eye could see.

The beholder has found themselves in a world full of magic and sun, a feeling of warmth filling their body as they walk about the expansive forests of Eversong, a great lush forest in a land you now know as Quel'thalas.

Whether you find yourself sitting in the plaza in front of the great city of Silvermoon, or or at the side of the brilliant rivers that run through the picturesque landscape, the crystal clear bodies of water that shimmer in the sunlight, or if you simply have seen fit to sit upon a rock to admire the view, spirits seem to be running high.

Elves are scattered about these lands in great supply, every one of them living in the moment of tranquility. They know no fear, no despair. They are allowed to enjoy themselves without any outside conflict or threat, though there a few visiting humans* that may see fit to share the bounty of the Quel'dorei's great work.

These are pleasant times, indeed.]


(ooc. HERE ARE GIANT REFERENCE IMAGES FOR THOSE WHO ARE CURIOUS.

* That is you! If you want your character to see the elves' beloved homeland pre-disastuh, go for it~ ♥ Add your tags in, doods.)

About the Archive

"Paradisa Lost" is the archive of what the journals contained between December 1st, 2006 and January 10th, 2012. On that final day, Paradisa issued new journals, so that the residents could fill them up again. While there are still residents around who have old journals, we have chosen to preserve the old journals here for muns' reference and history.

"Lost" in the title refers to both the old journals that the residents once kept, and also to our move to Dreamwidth from the original Livejournal community, where Paradisa started. It is a fresh start for muns, as well as for the characters.

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