Twisted

Lena's mouth hung open, the Twisting Nether feeling as if it were pulling her body limb from limb and compressing it all at the same time. She struggled for breath, her heart beating sideways in her chest cavity, slicing through muscle and bone there as it continued to beat obligingly.

Something was wrong.

Usually her teleportation spells were a simple skip through the Twisting Nether, barely even a blink of an eye, but something was wrong. She was stuck.

Her eyes bulged from their sockets as she clawed at herself in jerking, spastic movements, unable to control her muscles in the same way, panic rising in the back of her throat. Her thoughts sawed at her mind, unable to travel in a straight line from one idea to the other. She groaned and ground her teeth impatiently while her brain tried to connect the dots.

The alter-time spell. She was working out the formulas for a way to give herself a way to loop time in short instances, and she spoke the incantation aloud at her campsite and then .... darkness.

No. No that wasn't it. Something else happened.

She had been on the peak of Neverest. Her pants still showed a dusting of snow when she craned her neck to look at them. Why... She let out a soundless whimper. The slithering being crawling up her leg. The box. The voices.

She had panicked. She cast the spell, not even caring about the ramifications. She just wanted to get out of the grasp of the thing that was surely going to overtake her. And just as she shimmered from view on Azeroth, she saw Krastos, saw his eyes, saw him leap toward where she had been standing, hands outstretched.

Did she? Did she see him? They really were coming for her?

And now she was in the Twisting Nether. An apt name, she managed to squeeze the thought out. She'd never been stuck for so long. The rule was that if you were able to manipulate your mind, you could still open a portal, could change the state of the Nether, could escape it. It could, legend had it, even be pleasant, based on what the conjurer would bring to mind. Clearly, she was in no state of mind to attempt conjuring pleasant moments. She couldn't even conjure a portal to get OUT of the Nether.

As she grasped desperately for that knowledge, she felt herself slipping, still being squeezed by what had taken hold of her on the mountain, still being ripped apart by the chaos of the Nether. Invisible tentacles still tightened around her legs and were working their way around her waist.

What was it that could be in both realms at once? That could exist and not exist at the same time?

Her eyes widened at the cackle both inside her mind and out. You resist. You attempt to cling to your life as if it actually matters. You'll learn.

The Old Gods.

Kelrythis II

Kelrythis lowered her sword, her eyes narrowing as she tried to regain her normal breathing.  She was dusty, dirty, sweating like a pig, her plate armor starting to chafe her ashen skin.

Removing a gauntlet, she swiped a wrist across her brow and muttered a free flowing stream of curses as she stepped over and lightly kicked her opponent, who was laying in an unceremonious pile of dinged armor on the ground.  "Get up," she growled, offering her bare hand, "I didn't even hit'cha that hard."  She shook her head, stark white ponytail swinging behind her as she looked down with scorn.

Wrapping her fingers around her sparring partner's wrist, she hauled the body upright.  After ensuring steadiness, she rapped her knuckles against the helmet, shaking her head with a snort, "You puss.  It's a good thing you're not out there in the world with moves like that.  You'd be a fel beasts's dinner in no time."

The other warrior windmilled arms, pushing Kel away and pulling off the helmet, face flushed and sweaty.  Her own pigtails bounced limply as she shook her head and glared at Kel.  "Well sor-reeeee.  Some of us weren't born with halberds in our hands," her lilting voice accused and whined.

Kel shook her head, giving the other girl another smack upside her head and retreating to pick up her gauntlet.  She was young, the girl.  Kel tucked her glove under her arm and took a long swallow of water from the wineskin in her bags.  She had a long way to go, if she were to ever lead a group of fighters into the fray.  Putting her gauntlet back on, she picked up her swords, eyes glinting as she held them properly, smiling at their perfect balance.  She had made them quite well, and was thoroughly proud of her craft.

Whirling around to the younger warrior, she adopted an attack stance, glaring and sighing impatiently as she waited for her to affix her shield, pick up her sword.  "Faster," Kel growled, lunging forward and purposely bringing her left sword down hard against the shield.  "If I wasn't looking out for your well-being, you'd be dead right now.  And then your entire party would be trampled.  You are point.  You have to be more prepared than the others."  She stepped back and lunged again, this time sweeping her right sword close to the girl's hooves, making her leap backwards, her eyes wide.  "You have to be better than that.  Fearless.  Angry."  Kel's eyes narrowed, remembering fights gone by.

The other warrior hadn't put her helmet back on and watched Kel with shining eyes.  Was that admiration that Kel detected?  She swallowed hard and shook her head, trying to shake it away.  She didn't need a complication now.  Training.  This girl needed training.

The girl's sword lowered slowly, eyeing Kel tentatively.  Gently.  Interested.  Attractive.  She really was, despite her shit fighting skills, with her hair in those long black pigtails.  Kel's hands worked hard, gripping and grinding the handles.  She set her jaw and growled again, whirling fast and throwing her right hand sword with a loud grunt, impaling a training dummy across the way.

Kelrythis stalked away, leaving her sword and bags where they were, eyes furious as she left the young warrior standing there, shield lowered, mouth agape, watching her go.  Her eyes were hurt.  Kel could feel them boring into her skull as she rounded a corner and started to sprint.

Falling

Lena ran, panting, through the forest, grinning giddily as she leaped over fallen trees, bounded through thickets, occasionally looking over her shoulder.  She had gotten a substantial lead, and was easily outpacing him by using a few well placed spells, ones that altered her space and time, putting her far ahead.  She had even looped back around, shielding herself with an invisibility spell and giggling silently as he searched for her.

For a lumbering warrior, Krastos was still rather quick on his hooves.  They had spent the day in a field, her with her books and him laying on the grass, listening to her read to him, smirking at the stories of the planet they were currently on.  They often did this, and recently it had turned flirtatious. Him tickling her cheek with a long blade of grass to distract her, somehow escalating to a full on tickling-wrestling match, until she slithered out from under him and scampered away.  He lurched to his hooves and took off after her, laughing at himself as he engaged in the game of hide-and-seek-tag.  For being non-athletic, she was still fast, light on her hooves, evasive.  He spent much of his time training, running, usually with full plate armor impeding his speed, and he still couldn't catch her, she who spent most of her time with books.  He teased her every time he caught her, poking her nose and telling her that using magic was cheating.

She would always grin, blushing a deep blue, and he would feel his heart twist as she smiled at him.  He had been watching, and she would never smile that way for anyone else.  Just him.

This was one of their longer runs, and they were in unfamiliar territory.  She continued to frequently use magics to give herself a boost of speed, but he was gaining.

He saw it before she did, the way the horizon dropped off, and he bellowed at her, "Lena!" reaching out a useless hand as her eyes widened and she skittered toward the edge of the cliff, unable to stop herself as she tumbled over with a desperate yelp.

She was gone.  He slid to a stop just before the edge, a cloud of dust rising around him as he scrabbled to the cliff and peered over, his heart in his throat.  Oh Lena... He mentally kicked himself for letting the chase game get out of hand, cursing himself for going to unexplored territory.  The dust began to clear and he looked down, wincing at the idea of finding her broken body at the bottom of the ravine.

He gaped in disbelief as he saw her standing at the bottom, a nervous grin on her face as she waved up at him, laughing wildly.  She tossed her hair behind her shoulders and shouted up at him, "Magic is good for more than just cheating!

Kras pushed himself to his hooves and searched for a way down to the ravine.  She was nuts.  How did she do that?  He trundled down a rocky, makeshift path, falling several times as he lost his footing.  At the bottom, he bounded over to her and wrapped her in a bear hug, pressing her close against his body.  He felt her smile as she burrowed her head under his chin and against his chest.  "Don't scare me like that!" His voice came out in a whispered rasp, his fingers tangling in her hair pressing her head against his chest.

She wrapped her arms tight around him, sighing and relaxing into the embrace, trembling.  She played confident, but he could tell the fall had shaken her as well.  He lifted her chin with a finger and peered at her worriedly.  His eyes landed on her lips and he couldn't stop himself from kissing her for the first time ever.

When he finally came up for air, she smiled that secret smile up at him, her eyes sparkling.

"If I'd known that's what would happen, I might've thrown myself from a cliff a long time ago."

Sway

The wind howled at the peak of Neverest.  Lena stood, arms outstretched, leaning into it, barely feeling the biting cold.  The cackles of the Sha from all over Pandaria rang in her ears, barely interrupting the constant whispers of the Old Gods from within her mind spurred from the box.  Snow drifted around her hooves as she stood, her face turned toward the bleak sun peeking through the cloud cover, eyes closed.  She took a deep breath of the thin air and straightened her spine.

Kras...oh, Krastos.  I miss you.

 

Lena!  LENA!  His gruff voice broke through, urgent and frantic.  Where ARE you?  Stay with me!  We're coming for you!  He seemed desperate to maintain the mental link.

 

She shuddered, glancing behind her, the hoofprints from when she hoisted herself onto the peak nearly gone in the shifting snow.  She wasn't done yet.  She let her mind retreat slightly, immediately feeling him in pursuit, carefully trying to pull her back.  She felt herself sway on her perch at the peak of the great mountain, and thought about slipping away.  She was so tired.  Her body moved as if not propelled by her own will.

She wasn't done.  They weren't done.

With what?

Even she wasn't sure anymore.  Waking and sleeping seemed to have no differentiation, her work was rote at this point, digging and writing, sifting through artifacts, scrolls, sorting and theorizing.  She talked to herself, out loud, sometimes shouting against the wind.  The Pandaren had finally given up on her endless quest to find ... whatever it was she was searching for.  She wandered campsites with maps in her hands, pointing at the stars and the position of the sun, occasionally stopping to scribble illegible notes in the margins or right across a mountain range.

She rarely ate, slept erratically, dreamed terrible dreams, and hallucinated the terrible beings that were haunting her.  Her hands were dry and scabbed over, bathing not being a priority, eating being even less so.  Her normally tidy and well-kept clothing and weaponry was covered in dust and grime - she frequently misplaced her tools and would resort to using her dagger and hands to dig.

Lena turned and faced from where she had come, watching the path she trekked in the snow disappear.  Weak on her hooves, she wobbled and swayed, the wind nearly toppling her.  How relieving it would be to just let go... stop trying.  She looked at her hooves again and realized she couldn't decide what to do.

The noise in her mind was just static at this point, growing louder to block out other thoughts, increasingly driving her mad.  She could barely make out words - only sinister accusations, mocking, and laughter.  Until they came together in one reverberating voice as she stood on Mount Neverest.

It is standing right behind you. Do not move. Do not breathe.

She stiffened. glancing at the perilous footing under her.  An invisible force seemed to lazily snake itself around her body.  She froze in fear.  It tightened around her, squeezing.

Krastos. Lena's mental connection scattered back to the surface.

KRASTOS!  IT IS HERE FOR ME!

Kelrythis

(Another non-Lena character sketch)

Kelrythis spat in the dirt and exhaled her cigar smoke in the waning light of the Vale of Eternal Blossoms.  The rolling plains seemed to wobble before her eyes, but that was probably just the liquor.  Forcing a yawn, she lifted a hand to her jaw, checking, as always, for broken bones or dislocations, luckily finding none.  She'd be bruised tomorrow, but, she thought, it was almost worth it.  Her plate boots were heavy when she started trudging back up the long stairway.  That temper of hers was really going to get her in trouble someday.  If it wasn't the temper, it would be... well, everything else.

Approaching the door of the Golden Lantern, she wonder what on Azeroth she was doing in Pandaria.  She had no agenda here, but Shadows had all but relocated.  Personally, she'd rather be settled into her usual barstool in the Blue Recluse.  Or maybe even spectating in the new Brawler's Pub.  She was sure she could do better than some of the 'talent' she'd seen there. She leaned against the doorjamb and let her eyes follow the paths of those milling around inside the tavern.  One thing she did like about Pandaria was the readily available supply of good beer.  Those Pandaren might be odd creatures that were a little too touchy-feely for her, but the knew their booze, and they were happy to share.

Kel took a restorative breath and dove back in, swiping a pint from a passing barmaid and taking a large gulp as she kept her eyes on the destination.  Along the far wall, a figure sat alone at a table for two, hands clasped around a pint.  Such a pretty little thing, Kel thought to herself.  She shouldn't be alone.  Her lips curled in a wicked smile as she took another gulp, draining the mug, and reached for another.

The rotund Pandaren bartender gave her a sharp, disapproving look as he wiped down the counters and sorted glasses and mugs, but didn't intervene this time.  She'd done her time, taken her time out, and now she was rightfully back in the bar.  All she had to show for her troubles was a bruised cheek.

Her eyes darted around, landing on various women, and her eyes shone.  Pandaria, at least, brought out the beautiful people.  She started making her way through the crowded space toward the lonely girl at the table, but a very intoxicated Kaldorei woman caught her arm.  Kel didn't mind the night elves - they had their moments.  Many of them could be quite attractive, if you were into that... pale... bouncy... thing they did.  But Kel's eyes were on the prize tonight - the girl at the table was a draenei, like herself.  Some might call her xenophobic, but growing up and growing old in a body like hers for all these millennia, really made her want to observe another draenei woman's figure.  See how she moved, watch her hips sway, tease her tail - even downright silly things, like play with her hair.  Kel's lip curled at the pang of femininity she expressed to herself, quickly squashing it, drowning it in another deep drink of her beer.

Mostly, she just loved watching them.  But feeling them move under her, at the touch of her fingers or her lips was also a pretty good feeling.

Shadows ranks consisted of so many women, but Kel knew better than to shit where she ate, and besides, most of them didn't really know, or want to know, about her predilections for women.  The men would leer and drool inappropriately, and the women would probably avoid her, so she didn't talk about it.  It wasn't unusual for draenei to remain single for long periods.  Who wanted to settle down for eternity when there were so many options, so many new ones every day?  Kel toasted herself at that thought and downed another beer.

Kel sauntered close to the table, attempting to swing her hips to the music the Pandaren band was playing and be casual, surreptitiously glancing at the girl, who was staring into her mug.  She didn't look sad, necessarily, just a little lost.  Uncomfortable.  There was a story there, and Kel intended to find out.  Plopping down in the chair across from her, Kel sat down her mug with a heavy hand, the girl raising her eyes, startled.

"Hell of a night, isn't it?"  Kel gave the girl a grin, baring her teeth.  Probably a little over-exuberant, she thought, as the girl leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.  Sometimes, you can tell.  Sometimes, the fun part is finding out.  You never know what you might find out if you go for it.

And Kel was going for it.

Gyllandre

(While this is not Lena, this is a character sketch based on this image:  http://25.media.tumblr.com/1dc297fb8fd9bbbaa0dbbe955a255ee2/tumblr_mh32cvVGI01s49934o1_500.jpg)

Momma!  Momma, where are we going?!

Gyllandre sat up in her bed, panting slightly, eyes darting to the dark corners of her quarters.  The dream was back, and crystal clear.  She was a very young draenei child, her white skin still unmarred, toting a doll her mother had made, tripping after the tall, lanky woman on the tips of her hooves.  Reaching for her.  Catching her tail between her tiny fingers and trying to get the woman's attention.  Her mother smiled serenely down at her daughter and continued her smooth, silent stride while her child ran to keep up.  Her mother was dressed in a flowing tunic over tight cloth leggings, her ashen skin smooth and unbroken where she showed it off along her shoulders and chest.  Her horns were long, gracefully curved, offset by the ridges along her forehead and solemn, peaceful expression that she wore.  Gyllandre gathered the blankets up in her hands as she remembered, her mother's face imprinted forever in her mind.

But then she was gone.  In the dream, a tiny Gyllandre found herself in the middle of the dirt road, grasping for her mother's tail and coming up empty-handed, bewildered and frightened by the darkness closing in on her from the adjacent forests.  Her mother was nowhere to be found, only a wisp of her scent still traceable in the air.

The priest pushed the blankets away and stood, drifting toward the chest at the foot of the bed, where she kept the ancient doll she had carried as a child, pulling it gently from it's place and cradling it to her chest.

Hundreds of years ago, her priestess mother had been taken by the orcs.  Her warrior father had been killed in the initial siege of Shattrath City.  Her mother could probably still be alive.  But in all likelihood, had been either killed or corrupted by the orcs.  Even now, every time Gyllandre visited Shattrath, her true home, she would slowly make her way through the Lower City, eyeing the Broken, wondering if any of them remembered her mother.

Now, she was all but living in the Shrine of Seven Stars, in Pandaria, after years of living on the run with the other draenei.  Upon landing on Azeroth, she readily signed up with the military forces, offering her Light-healing to the troops in need as the race clashed with the Horde and aligned themselves with the Alliance, but more effectively using shadow-magics to bend and twist enemy minds, making them drop their weapons and lose their senses while her allies advanced.  The Pandaren race smiled upon her for her balanced approach to the world, using Light and dark and keeping, even superficially, an even keel.  The trainers praised her for this, and she understood that it was the way to keep the influence of the Sha under control.

She curled up at the foot of the bed, still clutching the fraying doll.  She had been taken in by family friends, raised as one of their own, as was the newer tradition of the draenei.  Her mother had said that before they left the tranquility of Argus, it was rare that a child would grow up without a family.  But as the legion continued to pursue them through the universe, it had become an unfortunate outcome.

When she was small, small enough to still fit in her father's palm, she remembered how her parents would smile over her.  She had been born with such pale, white skin and hair, and her eyes glowed the lightest blue.  She had been Daddy's girl, always charging enthusiastically toward him as he would come trundling home from training or his patrols, jumping into his arms, doll in hand as he scooped her up and nuzzled his nose against her cheek.  Her mother was a priestess, she remembered, always feeling the warmth of the Light that the woman carried within her.  Gyllandre remembered how she smelled, warm and sweet, like the wind and grasses in Nagrand.  They lived on the edge of Shattrath, and Gyllandre was happy to spend time in either setting.

Stroking the doll's head, Gyllandre tucked her legs underneath her bottom, and sighed.  Long ago, the doll had lost the scent of her mother, of her home in Shattrath.  It had been burned as the orcs made their march into the peaceful city.

Momma!  Momma, where are we going?

She could still hear her little-girl voice pleading with her mother, wondering where they were headed.  Gyllandre squinted at the memory, trying to place the scenery.  Terokkar?  Probably.  What happened to her mother?  The dream always stopped just before she found out, leaving her grasping for the memories.

Gyllandre looked up at the knock on her quarter's door.  "Andre?" a muffled voice asked through the wood.  Tachros.  He always called her Andre.  "Andre, it's nearly time for training..."  He always sounded so tentative, as if worried he might upset her.

"I'll be right out, Tachros."  She sighed and replaced the doll in her trunk, locking it and tucking the key into her pocket as she dressed in her battle gear, ready to face a new day.

Well-Read

Lena read voraciously.  At every new planet, she would seek out the libraries, the bookshops, filling her quarters on the ship with tomes from all over the universe.  Magic, religions, sciences, history, even novels and fiction, languages and travel, she couldn't get enough.  She soaked in words, some of her best friends being characters in books, historical figures from planets gone by.

She was currently perched in a low, curved branch of a tree, snuggled up to the trunk, a heavy book in her lap, legs curled beneath her.  They'd been on this planet for several months, and the draenei had finally started exploring beyond their landing site, overly-cautious as always.  Lena had made the excursion to a nearby city, hiding her horns and blue skin under her hood and gloves.  The draenei preferred to keep a low profile until they'd made contact and determined what people could be trusted and whom they could call allies.  She was part of a team that were understated and diplomatic, tasked with seeking out allies and researching the planets on which their ship landed, learning the language, figuring out how to communicate with the beings that lived there.

In the settlement they first explored, they found little, but were pointed in the direction of a city - or at least a larger settlement.  Her quarters were filled with books, yes, but also trinkets and smaller treasures from nearly every planet they visited.  Sometimes, she carried these pieces with her when trying to communicate with new beings, offering them as currency for information.

Now they had been here for enough time for Lena to start learning the language, analyzing their society.  She currently held a book of myths and legends of the area, reading it with a faint smile.  She thought it quaint sometimes, learning about the traditions of another people.  It often made her think critically about her own belief system, broken as it was.  She remembered Argus, but only barely.  She'd been fairly young, and still traumatized from events that transpired.  But she remembered the peace they'd lived in.  They'd been on the run so long, many of them felt broken.  Everything they'd ever known was shattered when their leaders rebelled in a power-thirsty move.

Velen, to his credit, attempted to keep the traditions and Argussian peace alive, even as they fled.  He was a wonderful teacher, and Lena was grateful for the rare opportunity to speak with him.

Lena leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree, listening to the wildlife around her.  Members of the research teams were sent in all directions, to catalogue the plant and animal life, to talk with the people native to the planet and make sense of the world they inhabited.  The draenei were not fearful - rather, they were quite curious, often more inclined to listen and learn first and act later.

She closed the book in her lap, letting her eyes slip shut, when she heard a commotion nearby.  She herself was sometimes jumpy and anxious, and not being a fighter, she often forgot to bring on her wanderings more than the precursory dagger attached to her waist.  She peered through the brush, wrinkling her nose.  A grack.  Her hand reached for her dagger, but clumsy as she was, she dropped it on the ground.  She muttered a soft curse, still watching the grack, which seemed to have some poor creature treed nearby.  She sighed, hating to see anything being viciously attacked. She lifted her hands, whispering a soft incantation and sending a wave of arcane energy toward the grack, transforming it into a harmless sheep and dazing it, ensuring the smaller creature a quick escape and seeming to wipe the last few moments of memory from the grack's brain.

As the wandering grack-sheep bleated helplessly, Lena looked up at the tree, fumbling for her glasses as she peered and found herself looking right at a bewildered draenei male who had climbed up the trunk.  He was staring down at the sheep in confusion.  He was handsome, Lena found herself thinking, and felt herself blush.  She reached for her book again, flipping to find her page.  She wasn't sure how she felt about being attracted to someone.  Other than her fellow researchers, she hadn't gotten to know many people, but she had seen him around the ship.  She was usually too busy reading to interact.

Once more lost in the book, she jumped when a gruff voice addressed her from the base of the tree she was in.  "Lena?"

The man smiled tentatively up at her.  He stood with purpose, almost cockily, his thick arms crossed over his stocky chest, all leather-and-mail covered.  His long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail.  He broke out in a grin when he made eye contact, and Lena grew warm under his gaze, biting her lip nervously as she blinked down at him, trying to pull herself away from the world inside the book.

"Y-yes?"

The Search

Kras sat up in the big bed they shared that was crammed in the small room of the house in Stormwind. Lena's side of the bed was empty; she'd been missing for weeks. He was hearing something, for certain, he was sure it was her voice. Weak, lost. Desperate. She sounded cold. And confused. Kras sighed.

Arloth had promised the full force of the Shadows if necessary to find one of their leaders. So far, Kras hadn't called in that favor. Every time he would drop in for a progress report at the Ironforge headquarters, he was moments from bringing it up. But he didn't want to bring their personal lives into business. He was never like that, and didn't really want to begin now.

He couldn't get through to her. Whatever had started taking over her mind had blocked off mental contact. She surely hadn't taken a communicator, either, so secure in her magical connection to her people. His mate, and one of the leaders of Shadows, was missing, and it was starting to become dire. Each day that she eluded them was another day that took her further away. Probably literally, in addition to figuratively.

Kras growled in the dark as he eyed the empty space on the bed, then flung off the blankets and pulled on some clothes, grabbing a dagger and a shield from the wall above the bed where he kept them.

The tram was still running between Stormwind and Ironforge, and he fumed for the entire ride, emerging from the tunnel in Tinker Town and marching toward headquarters. Once inside the building, he lit a torch and flung it into a sconce on the wall, grabbing all the maps from a shelf, recognizing Lena's flowy script as she outlined the regions of Pandaria. The newer maps were still smudged and blotched with sketches of mountains and lakes as she traced the terrain. He'd made a quick traverse of the continent and was vaguely familiar with it, but Lena had been out there since the Alliance had landed on the shores, eager to acclimate to the place.

Finding the map he figured would help the most, he rolled and folded, trying to keep it as intact as possible, tucking it into the pouch at his side. He sighed heavily and picked up the torch again, marching out of headquarters and toward another nearby door.

Taking a deep breath and setting his jaw, Kras lifted a fist and pounded heavily on the door. "Arloth!" he bellowed. "Arloth!" He shouted until a burly, grumpy, terse Field Marshal swung open the door. He seemed to be expecting Krastos pounding on his door in the middle of the night. Nhadiya's tired face peeked over the warrior's shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist, and Kras's face softened slightly at the sight of the pregnant priestess. He turned his eyes back to Arloth.

"She tried to get in touch," he said, words tumbling out quickly, "I heard her. She was trying to communicate, but she's weak out there. I don't know how much longer she'll survive."

Arloth nodded and crossed his arms over his bare chest, turning to Nhadi and nodding, sending her back toward the interior of the house. He looked back at Krastos, "Who do you need? We'll wake them and get moving as soon as we can. Before dawn if we can manage it. Go start gathering whatever supplies you need from our stores. I'll join you as soon as I get dressed."

Lost

Lena's journal lay under her arm on the crate she had made into her desk, her head nestled in her gaunt elbow. Her eyes were closed, sunken from exhaustion. The pages fluttered in the wind of the mountains of Kun Lai blowing in from the open flap of her makeshift tent. The writing was jerky and disjointed, an extreme deviation of her normally flowing, loopy script. A glowing stone sat nearby, and from her belt hung the pouch that held an artifact she could not part with.

I have been in Kun Lai for what seems like months... The light moves differently over the mountains, so I suspect it may be nearing spring. I haven't traveled much since we were relieved of duty after the Battle of Kun Lai. I led Shadows to Binan Village, made sure they were settled untill Allianace forces were ready to withdraw again... and then somehow found myself back in the caves and crypts where we had fought. The voice eminating from the puzzle box seemed stronger there, and somehow led me there without my knowledge or consent.

 

I have managed to travel to the Isle of Thunder. The archaeologists assisting me have spoken of the activity there. I explored tentatively, coming to blows with some of the sauroks, but ultimately needed to return here. I did, however, find a stone on the body of one saurok that... spoke to me. 

 

I feel I am going mad. The box that I dug up in Northrend years ago taunts me more each day, and now another inanimate object is inserting whispers into my stream of consciousness. There is hardly room for my own thoughts anymore.

 

I know there is a connection between all these things. The Old Gods, the Sha here in Pandaria, the whispers. The Old Gods have been whispering to mortals and immortals since time began on this planet, in this world.

 

But why me? Because I am a researcher? Because I dare to try to unlock their secrets? To find their weaknesses?

 

I miss Krastos. But I fear what he will think to see me like this, to find out what I've been hiding from him. I know that Shadows needs me, but I feel as if I am compelled to continue this search against my own will.

 

There are scores of other things I would rather be doing. But it taunts me. Horrible things, terrible words. The worst, I fear, is " You resist. You cling to your life as if it actually matters. You will learn."

 

What does this box know that I have yet to learn?

Missing

Lena's voice cut through the mental connection and over the communicators: "All of you. Enough. There are enough voices in this room without you all prattling on."

They continued to threaten and posture within the mental channel while tactics and strategies and infighting waged in real time. Lena resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands. It was all too much.

Between the meeting and the mental chatter, Lena's struggle with the unknown voices in her head threatened to push her over the edge. She kept her hands in her lap and remained mute for the remainder of the meeting, peering at the leggings under her tabard. Her hat shadowed her face quite well, and she smirked when her eyes caught the emblem of Shadows pinned to her shoulder. She was, at least temporarily, in charge. Ruling as a group proved difficult sometimes, but they all would have their turn at being the "leader".

Arloth's booming voice from the chair next to her made her long for her blankets, her own bed, and the comforting silence of laying with Krastos, in their quiet little house at the end of the cul-de-sac in Stormwind. But to get up and teleport away would be rude.

Besides, she still had work to do in Pandaria. She knew, though, that Krastos was worried. But Arloth had put him on leave, and Kras was currently at home in Stormwind, or in their country home on the outskirts of Elwynn Forest, near the Wetlands. She smiled to herself. The benefit of being alive for so many millennia is the ability to manage money. They weren't flashy about their wealth, but they did live quite a bit more comfortably than many of the other races. While Lena didn't want children of her own - no matter how many times Krastos asked her about it - they did offer sizeable donations to the orphanages. Nearly every one they came across in Azeroth so far, actually.

But her work took her away from Krastos. Arloth had not put her on leave. So she was left to her research, urged to find a key to the Sha problem, to learn the terrain of the continent and make detailed maps, to ferret out any bit of information she could from what she was given in order to stay one step of the Horde.

Much of her time was spent on archaeological digs with Lorewalker Cho, sifting through the soil, disturbing ancient lands to seek out artifacts that would guide her in her research. Cho was a pleasant sort, but a bit too clingy, Lena thought. He would often hover close by, especially after she would have an episode - which she had previously thought she was hiding well.

Once in a while, she would work up the energy to teleport to headquarters. Which is where she sat now, listening to the bickering between races. She'd plopped herself in a chair, sighing when she realized she was sitting next to Arloth. Even he'd recently encouraged her to rest more, to take time with Krastos. Her mind drifted in and out of the meeting, which seemed to be about arguing where the Horde would next attack.

The night continued, bodies drifted on their ways, and Lena stood at the bottom of the staircase in Shadows' headquarters in Ironforge, staring up at them dubiously. The dwarves had odd manners of construction, even in the interior of the massive city, preferring to burrow downward. She cursed this layout briefly, then sighed, shifting her pack on her back and checking the pouch at her waist over and over. The box was still safe.

Kirahti caught her by the arm, swaying at the foot of the staircase, and urged Lena to lie down. The Auchenai and the nearby hunter, Siliros, after much argument and resistance, finally dosed Lena with the negligible poison from a Warp Stinger and tucked her in, placing pillows and blankets all around where she lay on the floor.

It was true, Lena had been working too hard. But the voice - voices? - from the box wouldn't let up, and neither would she until she figured it out.

---

She awoke, blinking against the sun, which was baking her ever so slightly as she sat up in a strange combination of mud and dust. Lena sighed as she recognized her digsite. Her tools were scattered around, surprisingly right where she left them. She figured the prowlers in Kun Lai would make off with some of her most treasured tools. She looked north, squinting in the brightness of daylight, looking at her tent. The one she had dutifully set up and promised herself - and Cho - that she would sleep in. At a reasonable hour. Pryt knickered softly behind her, and she rubbed the talbuk's muzzle gently after she hoisted herself to her hooves.

Obviously, that didn't happen.

Lena stretched her back and lumbered toward her tent, grabbing a towel and something akin to clean clothes - at least they were dry - before heading down towards the ocean to freshen up.

---

Krastos was painting shutters on the house in Stormwind, and with every stroke of the brush, his frustration grew. Lena hadn't been around in weeks. He missed her. More than that, he was deathly afraid that something was wrong.

He had spoken to Arloth in confidence a few weeks prior, expressing his concern, but the warrior had brushed him off, commending Lena's work ethic. Frustrated even more, Krastos returned to their home and continued to tidy the house, fixing what he knew how, hiring workers to assist with what he didn't, frequently testing the mental connection he shared with his mate to no avail. Before she had disappeared, she had scribbled a list of work she wanted to start on with the house, and Krastos passed his leave by tackling most of it.

He was curious, though, when refinishing the floors in Lena's study, when he found a a safe, disguised and well hidden in the knots of the wood along the base of the wall. He pried open the door, and found a magically secured box within. He knew he'd never get it open, but he wondered what was in it. Lena was overwhelmingly the expert in magical locks. And if she was going this far to hide it, she would have doubled her efforts to keep this box secure. But was she hiding it from him or someone else?

The week before, Arloth had come to him, saying that he had seen Lena at headquarters in Ironforge, that she looked tired and unwell, and that he had given her permission to bring Krastos along for her work. But she hadn't checked in with Krastos. He closed his eyes and sighed. The field marshal continued taking jabs at Krastos, insinuating that Lena had finally run off, had found someone else, perhaps someone who could tolerate the stress of this job without needing leave. That cocky bastard. Krastos ground his teeth as Arloth continued speaking, his fingers curling into fists. The shaman called upon the power of the earth as his fist acted on it's own accord, slamming into Arloth's jaw and felling the solidly built warrior. .

Arloth laughed heartily, rubbing his face as he stood, smirking at Krastos. "There's the Krastos I once knew. I knew a rest would do you good." Krastos narrowed his eyes at the marshal, seething.

Kras let his voice drop to a deadly calm, "Where is she?" He clenched his teeth and his fists, ready for a fight. "You know where she is, don't you?"

Arloth smirked and raised a hand, brushing off the shaman's concerns, "I'm sure she's fine. No idea where she is. She'd have gotten in touch if she really wanted to, wouldn't she?" He crossed his beefy arms across his barreled chest and chuckled at Kras, who growled and lunged.

Arloth hit the ground with a thud, but sprung to his hooves quickly, throwing a punch of his own. The two draenei fought, wrestling, growling at each other, until Arloth finally pulled away, panting.

"Maybe you are ready to come back to work, Kras." The warrior grinned, bowing slightly at the waist to signal the end of the fight.

"Not until Lena is found - alive - and safe," he hissed between clenched teeth. "I will search all of Azeroth to make sure you haven't sent her on some suicide mission."

Something in Arloth's expression changed, and his eyes softened. He offered a hand to the shaman and nodded, grasping his wrist and drawing him close and speaking under his breath, "Find your mate, Krastos. I truly don't know where she is. She hasn't answered communications in weeks, and only rarely does anyone catch a glimpse of her at HQ. We always assumed she was checking in there before coming home to you. If necessary, Shadows will engage in the search."

Disarmed and surprised, Krastos took Arloth's hand and shook it. "Once she is safe, we'll talk about me coming back to work."

 

Puzzled

Lena sat at her table in her study in the house in Stormwind, peering through the goggles at the strange box she had found while on an archaeological dig in Northrend several years ago. The draenei had arrived on Azeroth, and once they had started establishing themselves, extracting themselves from the wreckage of the Exodar, Krastos had taken her to the northernmost continent to explore. She quickly made acquaintance with a number of archaeologists, who invited her to join them on an ongoing dig in Dragonblight.

The small trinket box seemed to call to her from the moment she clapped eyes on it. She had been alone in a far corner of the digsite when she found it, and quickly pocketed the tiny box. She looked around guiltily and tried to retain her normal cheerful inquisitiveness, but the secrets of the box seemed to possess her. It seemed to whisper to her, and she wondered if those around her could here the strange things that it told her. But no one seemed to notice.


She finally leaned back in her chair and rubbed her face, removing the goggles and pinching the bridge of her nose. For years, she had been trying to open the box, by magic, with her expansive tool collection, with anything she could think of. But it was late, and Krastos would be wondering why she wasn't in their bed. Then again, waking Krastos from a deep sleep was similar to trying to wake the dead. She reached out and traced her index finger over the lines of the box, eyes narrowed as it whispered to her.


Once away from the original digsite, back in the city of Dalaran, she scurried off to the library where she had immediately felt at home to examine the markings of the box, comparing the crude carvings to what was known about this strange new planet. From her reading and studying, she deduced from the markings and the whispers that emanated from the thing that the box was a relic of some sort, probably from one of the Old Gods, Yogg-Saron. The implications were astounding, but the box still wouldn't open. And it still whispered to her.

Open me! Open me! Open me! Then only will you know peace.

Lena withdrew her hand as if burned. The whispers grew louder in her head, beseeching her to open the box, to find the key, to release whatever was inside. Logic and reason told her that meddling with anything related to an Old God was certain to have disastrous consequences... but her curiosity was starting to overwhelm her. It beckoned. A tiny, crude trinket box called to her from the hidden safe she had had installed in her study, where she kept it when they were home in Stormwind. She felt horribly about keeping it from Krastos, but until she had any more information about what the box really was, she didn't want to risk involving him.

It was fashioned to look and feel like wood, but as Lena continued to analyze it, she found that she couldn't determine what the box was made of. It certainly wasn't any sort of metal or stone she had seen on Azeroth Or Draenor. Or even on Argus, so many millennia ago. She pulled her magnifying jewel-crafters goggles back down over her eyes and held the box under the small lamp she had made. Once again, she tested the seams of the container with magic, pushing and prodding as far as she could, but it only resulted in a rush of whispers so loud and fast that it made her lightheaded until she pulled back, heart beating fast inside her chest.

She sighed, defeated, and quickly returned the box to the safe, cleaning up her study, shoving her notes and papers into the safe as well. Clicking off the lamp, she sighed again and retreated, wrapping her robe tight around her as she shuffled quietly to the bedroom. Krastos was sleeping deeply, but when she slipped under the covers with him, he shifted and pulled her tight against him. Lena nestled her head under his chin and closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat until it drowned out the whispers.


Look around... They will all betray you... Flee screaming into the black forest...


Lena let out a pained yowl, eyes wide as the minions of doubt advanced. One had gotten to her first, and she nearly spent herself as she cast spell after spell, attempting to at least stun it enough to drag herself away. Her leg was bleeding, but not broken, as she stumbled away from the advancing pack as fast as she could. She leaned heavily on her staff and threw a wall of ice before the sha-like creatures, slowing them considerably as she shouted for assistance. The Pandaren who patrolled the Temple of the Jade Serpent finally bounded into view, quickly containing the minions of doubt, banishing them back to the fissures in the earth from where they came. One of the healers made Lena sit while she worked on the injured leg, but Lena continued to cast spells to assist the Pandaren.

When it was over, Lena closed her eyes, trying to breathe normally. But the whispers were back. The voice - or was it voices? - taunted her now. She scrabbled for a small pouch that she kept on her belt, where the box resided. It was far too valuable for her to leave, even in a safe, in Stormwind. But, she grimaced as she thought, it came at a price. The whispers were loudest when the box was kept on her person, and here in Pandaria, it seemed it would drown out all her other thoughts.

She lay back in the grass in the courtyard of the Temple, trying to connect the dots. The voices were telling her that "they" would all betray her. And it might have started coming true. She had been steering clear of many social events, so consumed with studying and working as she was. Even Krastos occasionally commented that she was distant, or that she was hard to communicate with sometimes. Lena was beginning to wonder. The Sha were certainly a powerful force here. Did it have any connection to the box? To the Old God that whispered to her constantly?

Lifting her head, she peered at the Temple. It was rumored that the Sha of Doubt had once again emerged, breaking free of it's imprisonment in the Jade Forest. Flee screaming into the forest, the voice told her. It had to be connected.

She planted her staff on the ground and struggled to her hooves. She was tired, spent. Exhausted. Assuring the hovering Pandaren that she was fine, she opened a portal to the Shrine of Seven Stars. Kras was waiting for her there. When she appeared in the Golden Lantern and was greeted by the serenely smiling face of the innkeeper, she let herself relax.

Lena slowly limped her way up the stairs toward the suite where they were staying, her staff and hooves clacking along the grand marble and stone floors. Kras was waiting at the door, and gathered her up in his strong arms, carrying her to the bed and fussing over her injured leg. She smiled faintly up at him as he stroked her hair and kissed her forehead, and as he settled in the chair next to the bed and told her to get some rest, the whispers died down.

Future XIV

Bekka bounced into the house, grabbing an apple from the fruit basket hanging in the kitchen and jumping up onto the counter. Her mother, Eleanore, was cooking and shooed her away, but Bekka just grinned, digging into her apple with one of her smaller daggers. She was in a good mood. Having something to do - and someone to torture - usually did that to her.

"Bek - I swear," her mother started. It was a sentence she rarely, if ever, finished. Bekka rolled her eyes and held out a slice of apple pierced by the tip of the knife for the older woman. Eleanore took it and shook her head while she appraised her daughter. Bekka was a fine woman. Certainly not ladylike or feminine, but strong and capable. And smart.

"Whatcha cookin', Ma?" Bekka asked, leaning over toward the stove and banging her heels against the cupobards. She reached out to one of the pots to lift the lid, but her mother swatted at the back of her hand.

"Go wash your hands, girl," her mother scolded. "I don't know where you've been - and I don't wanna know!" she said pointedly, avoiding her daughter's gaze. Eleanore knew what her children did to keep the family afloat, but that didn't mean she had to know the details. Or approve. She set her mouth and went back to hovering over her stove while Bekka hopped down from the counter and sauntered off toward the well to wash up.

Bekka strolled out in the yard and perched on the edge of the well. Soon, she thought, maybe they could afford one of those pumps that they did in the city. The trinkets they'd already taken from the draenei would likely fetch a decent price at the trading house. Once they figured out what they were. Her brothers were still down in the stockade, keeping watch over the pair of draenei. She warned the older boys not to rough them up too badly. If, for some reason, they escaped, the draenei would surely retaliate. It was now a question of what to do with them.

Splashing water on her face and peeling off her gloves, Bekka muttered to herself about these things. Her brothers had sent her back to put Eleanore at ease, help with dinner, things like that. For the most part, her brothers recognized that she wasn't a "normal" girl - but sometimes, they still tried to make her do "normal" ladylike things.

After supper, they returned to the stockade, Bekka wrinkling her nose at the smell of the dank underground prisons. The draenei had been separated and chained in different cells, far from each other. There was speculation among the humans that the alien creatures had a mental connection, some sort of telepathy, where they could communicate silently. Bekka worried about the mage, too. She could have been magically unlocking her chains. Streig clapped his hand on her shoulder as if reading her mind, "We had a warlock enchant the locks. They're not going anywhere."

Bekka peered through the bars at the female, in her rich, velvety robes, now singed and caked in mud. Her hands were strung up over her head by the chains, pulling her tight against the stone wall. A faint sparkle caught Bekka's eye in the lantern's light. The mage had something around her neck. The draenei's eyes narrowed as she raised her chin defiantly, as if she felt Bekka looking at it. It was a gemstone, a perfect cut, hanging in a pendant from a solid ring around her long, graceful neck. It must be rare, Bekka thought. Mama might like to have something so beautiful - or maybe she could sell it for something even nicer. Bekka sneered right back and snorted to herself. She would do whatever she had to to get that gem.

Future XIII

The high ground. It's always better to have the high ground.

Lena stood on the bluff and gazed down at the herd of deer grazing in the hollow. She closed her good eye and stood in her darkness and listened. Her hooves were solid on the ground, supporting her. Her curves were returning and filling out the awkward leather armor that Thuleos had provided for her.

While his specialty was crafting rifles and other guns, Thuleos was also a fairly skilled bowyer, and had taught Lena how to make her own. His theory was that she would have to learn to adapt to having only one eye. Ammunition, he reasoned, was difficult to make and recover out in the wild, and he wasn't sure how long they would be away from the main settlement. They worked on their bows in silence, Thuleos showing, rather than telling, her how to form her weapon.

It still felt strange in her hand, she thought, as she gripped the handle, rolling her fingers around the leather that cushioned her palm from the wood. It was a fine weapon, Thuleos had declared, after many hours and days of work, holding it up in the sunlight to inspect it.

He had helped her with some of the more detailed work of arrows, but then sent her off alone into the nearby forest to hunt for their week's food.

It had been nearly two months since they had quietly left Shadow Watch, stealing away in the middle of the night, probably the first night's sleep the residents there had gotten since it happened. Lena still wasn't talking, but Thuleos knew better than to push it. She clearly didn't care that they had been gone so long.

She didn't. She knew without ever setting foot outside her home that the other draenei were peering at the house with wary eyes, distrusting, probably even angry. At her, at Kras, at the whole damn leadership of their community, for putting them at risk. But like everything else, from putting food into her body to the cleanliness of said body, Lena just didn't care.

She had needed to get away anyway. The house still smelled like Kras. When no one was around, when Nhadi had finally stopped her daily fussing, in the dark when Thuleos would stand watch at her door, she would slip into a closet full of his old clothes and sit on the floor, burying her scarred face into the soft materials and crying, stuffing the fabric into her mouth to muffle her sobs as she rocked back and forth in the small space, bumping her head against the wall. She could still smell him, still sense him, still roll over in the bed and expect to find him beside her. With every instance of him turning up gone, her heart dropped a little lower. She still dreamed about him, his strong arms holding her, the elemental pets he allowed her to keep, how he always kept his shield and a dagger beside the bed, that crazy grin that would spread across his face when they fought.

And when she would wake, jolting herself up in the bed, gasping for breath and realizing that he was never going to be there again, she would scream. They would come rushing in, fussing over her even more, making her cringe in humiliation and shame, forcing her deeper into the pain.

Her fingers tightened around the bow in her left hand as she lifted it. It spanned from just above her head to just below her knee when held at the proper height, perfectly curved and strung. She took a deep breath - finally able to do so - and rolled her shoulders back. Form, Thuleos had said, was just as important as aim. Her left elbow tightened, but remained fluid as she continued to adjust her posture with her eye closed. Her right hand brought up an arrow that she had fletched herself, one that took many hours and many do-overs and many frustrating moments of pursed lips and nearly abandoned efforts.

Nocking the arrow, she lifted the right elbow to be level with her ear, slowly making a circle in the air with it, rotating her shoulder in perfect archers form. The fingers of her right hand tugged at the corner of her mouth as she drew on the string. She finally opened her eye and stared blankly down the shaft of the arrow into a blur. Her depth perception would now and forever be broken.

Sighing, she relaxed her pose and watched the deer again. She picked out one that stood slightly away from the herd, grazing as if oblivious to their movements. She had wasted many arrows, broken many more, and just plain lost them as she practiced. Her vision was not getting better. Her good eye was not compensating for the lost one, and nor could it give her a better handle on spatial relations. Her aim was horrible, and any moving targets she was assigned usually got away as the first shot nearly always missed.

For the first time, Lena started to doubt this plan. She would never be able to be a marksman. How could she exact revenge now? With no magic, and clearly no aim, was she just destined to be broken forever?

A nauseous wave of guilt rolled over her, nearly buckling her knees. No, she decided. She would figure this out, too. She had to.

She lifted the bow and drew back on the string again, this time focusing hard on the deer away from the herd. The arrow flew and impaled itself in the animal's rump, and she swore she could hear it squeal from her bluff as it began a panicked limping toward, and then away from, and then once again lurching towards the scattering herd.

Her heart seized as she identified with the animal for a brief, flashing moment. But she composed herself and lowered the bow, pulling a dagger and marching slowly toward the flailing form to finish the job.

She had to.

Future XII

Stormwind Keep, for thousands of years, had been built into the side of the mountains of the Elwynn Forest region of the Eastern Kingdoms. The decaying fortress had been refurbished and rebuilt a number of times after razing by numerous Alliance enemies as well as general wear and tear continued to eat away at the center of the human city.

The humans were nothing if not tenacious.

Bekkami glared with dark eyes through the tree limbs. She was a climber, preferred the high ground, and was currently perched on a limb overlooking the Stormwind cemetery, where the long line of human nobility was buried, off of Cathedral Square. Peering at the wall that surrounded the Keep, she spat, barely hearing the startled protest from the ground.

Bekka was a well-muscled, but nimble, twenty-five year old tracker. Her blonde hair was always pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, keeping it out of her face. She was dressed in dark leather so soft that it barely made a sound as she crept along the bough. Courtesy of her brother Streig, she snorted softly to herself as she remembered doubting that such a thing would exist. His handiwork always put all the other leatherworkers in Azeroth to shame. She had, when she first started tracking at age twelve, been subject to such outfits, but as she progressed in her training and expertise, Streig had provided her with proper leathers. She remembered the wicked gleam in his eye when he handed over her first set when she was sixteen. All of her brothers – and there were seven of them – clapped her on the back and cackled in approval. She would do well, they said to each other. She would be an expert thief and close-combat expert. Maybe even an assassin some day. Bekka grinned with pride before scurrying off to put on her new outfit.

Her family was nothing if not ruthless.

Bekka leaned back against the trunk of the tree, straddling the limb and scratching at the bark with her dagger. Her expression was dark, brooding. It had been several weeks since the, the… draenei – she spat again – dared to set foot in their territory. For ages, the families involved in the Underground were warned of Krastos, the shaman who had dared to leave the organization back in the old days, a few thousand years before. Bekka had grown up believing it was a fairy tale, something youngsters were told to discourage disloyalty. From the stories, she had imagined him a monster with a terrible countenance, but weak with age, easily frightened and intimidated.

She growled softly as she remembered actually meeting him, tracing the tip of her dagger along the back of her hand, along the scar that he gave her, one of several that she was usually able to hide by her combat gear. Her brothers and friends, now the core of the Underground operations, had ambushed the pair – Krastos and his… mate, they had assumed – as they traveled idly through the Eastern Kingdoms.

The pair of draenei fought hard, Krastos more accustomed to hand to hand combat than the spellcaster, who was fairly easily disabled while they attempted to subdue the shaman. But the humans hadn’t gotten off that easily – the mate had had time to scorch all of them with fire spells, disorienting them momentarily with icy flashes and strange arcane magics, until one of Bekkami’s brothers snuck up behind her and slid a dagger with a binding poison on the tip into her side, making her crumple to the ground. Bekka crinkled her nose at the smell of burnt leather and hair, shaking out her pony tail, loosening the icy tendrils of hair that curled around her neck.

It had been a long time since shamans had been the norm in this region of Azeroth. It was still a practice held dear by some of the dwarves, but the humans had never gotten into it. So when Krastos let loose with the power of the elements, Bekka wasn’t exactly prepared. He summoned elementals made of fire and stone to fight by his side, and Bekka paused to gape at them just long enough for the draenei to get the upper hand, knocking her back with a crackle of lightning that shook the ground and bowled over the humans. The elementals scattered her brothers, pounding the ground at their feet, chasing them away from the epicenter of the battle, and Krastos narrowed his strangely glowing eyes at Bekka.

Her daggers nearly slipped from her fingers as Krastos bellowed in his queer native tongue, raising his lightning-fisted hands in the air and calling on the power of the storm growing overhead. Thunder rumbled in the near distance, and Bekka stood stock still, frozen at the sight. Krastos called the elementals back to his side, and lifted a single finger in her direction, giving her a deadly look, setting them loose on her while he turned away and tended to his wounded mate, picking her up and cradling her in his arms, whispering softly to her.

Bekka gasped and turned tail, ducking into the shadows of the forest and scrambling up into a tree, the elementals close behind, beating on the trunk of the tree and threatening to set it on fire. She clung to the limb she was precariously perched upon and squeezed her eyes tight as she heard her brothers return and reengage the draenei.

Her brothers eventually overpowered and bound the pair of draenei, knocking them unconscious and, using all their strength, dragged them to the nearby farm, paying off the destitute landowner for the use of his wagon and best – which wasn’t saying much – horse. The troupe made their way slowly back toward the city in silence, eyeing the alien draenei apprehensively, as if the creatures would spring back to life at any second.

Bekka narrowed her eyes at the Keep once more, snorting to herself. If the King in power had any idea who really ran this city, she thought. They were puppets, and had been for as long as humans had been on this planet. The Underground ran everything in the Eastern Kingdoms. Their power knew no end, their sticky fingers were in everything.

True, society had fairly crumbled around them, and for the most part, the entirety of the human race lived in destitution – even the so-called King – but it was no matter. It would come back around.

The humans were nothing if not tenacious.

Future XI

Eladea stretched out beside the campfire, listening to the other elves speaking softly in their native tongue.  She found herself grooming again, and if a panther could blush, she would be.  But she quickly shook it off, knowing the others didn’t mind, and actually expected it of her at this point.  Her tail thumped on the ground as she resumed her ministrations.  Lick, lick, lick, purr, rub ears.  Repeat.

The elves whispered among themselves, and Ela wondered about things as she groomed.  She, like everyone at Shadow Watch, was concerned about Lena.  She still wasn’t talking, barely eating, barely moving.  They still had no idea what had happened.

Ela often crawled into the bushes late at night, watching the hunter standing guard.  She took it upon herself to approach and wake him when he seemed to start dozing off, sliding out of the underbrush and nosing at his knee.  She wondered, though, when the last time he had gotten a full night’s sleep.  It had been several weeks since Lena was back.  During the day, Nhadi would take over duties, and the others would rotate in as necessary, but Thuleos was her sole guardian at night.  Nhadi would often shoo him away, ordering him to get a few hours of rest, at least, and sometimes, Ela would see him ambling in the direction of his home.

Something about the way Lena often screamed at night made them all nervous, wary of her, but Thuleos seemed to take it in stride, weathering most of her thrashing as he would try to calm her before Nhadi would arrive with her teas.  It was duty, Ela thought, that kept Thuleos up all night.  She didn’t know much about the hunter, but she knew he was Krastos’s kin, and didn’t seem to have other family.  In the old days, when they were part of the Sha’nash, she recalled him being youthful and bombastic and sometimes overly charged.  But he was a serious marksman, and always focused when on the battlefield.  Perhaps that was what made it hard to see him now, notably aged, and much more subdued than before.  Was it time alone, or the recent grief? 

The others didn’t notice, but a soft noise from the direction of the mage’s home drew her attention.  Ela glanced at the elves and found them deep in conversation, not likely to miss her.  Shadowmelding into the dark of night, Ela crept toward the house.  Lena was awake, and standing on her own, outside the door, holding Thuleos’s rifle.  Eladea’s eyes widened as she drew closer, unsure of what was about to happen.  Had Lena snapped?  Was she going to try to hurt herself?  Or Thuleos?  Though she was undetectable, she crouched behind a large bush, peering through the leaves at their exchange.  He finally stood and wrapped an arm around her, guiding her back into the house.

The druid sat still, apprehensively watching the house for hours until Thuleos finally reemerged.  She followed him at a distance, suddenly realizing that he was headed toward the vaults of storage for Shadow Watch.  Where was he going?  Still stealthed, she quickly leapt into the room before getting her tail shut in the door, and she watched him gathering supplies.

As he stuffed items into bags, she realized – he was taking Lena somewhere.  The armor he had packed was far too small for him… but it would probably fit well enough on Lena’s emaciated frame.  And the rifle.  What on Azeroth was going on?

When he finally crept out of the vaults, she followed, lest she get locked in, and sat in the dark at the turn of the road, watching them go.  She glanced back toward the settlement, then north toward the pair of retreating talbuks.

She paced nervously as they faded from view, even as the sun rose.  She should have followed, she admonished herself. But she had to tell someone.  But they would only force Lena back to her home.  The pair had headed north, which bothered her.  Not toward the dock for a boat, not even attempting to leave the isles.

Suddenly, it dawned on her:  Thuleos was going to train her.  She had no more magic with which to fight, so he, or she, or they both together decided that she needed a way to fight.

But surely they wouldn’t take on the Underground alone…

Would they?

Burnt

She was so tired.

Lena loved magic, and was always eager for it, eager to display her skills and talents. But in combination with her temper, it sometimes left her too drained to move. It wasn’t often that she and Krastos fought, but in confrontations like this one, she usually burnt herself out – literally and figuratively. She had collapsed into Krastos when he released her from the block of ice and eventually let him pick her up, lifting her onto his talbuk and leading them home. She could barely stay upright. Her robes were soaked through, and she was shivering violently. His large hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her down from the saddle, shifting her in his arms as he carried her inside and up the narrow stairs of their home. He laid her on the bed and pulled a blanket over her, pushing her wet hair back from her forehead as she watched him blankly.

Lena heard him go back downstairs and fumble in the kitchen, not even caring that he was rooting around in her perfectly arranged dishes and flatware. She lay under the blanket, still shivering, eyes barely open and unfocused on the ceiling. Barely able to put thoughts together, she still felt an overwhelming guilt for having lashed out at him that way, and even more prominent worry over what his revelations meant to them now. When he reappeared at her side with a steaming bowl, she rolled away from him and shut her eyes tight.

She woke, much later, the sky outside the window rapidly darkening as night fell. She heard a whooshing sound and a soft clatter behind her. When she rolled over, she gasped at the small fire elemental standing guard over a still warm bowl of broth on the nightstand. It chattered at her in an unknown language and wiggled toward the spoon that was sitting beside it. Kras had to have summoned it, she thought and sat up slightly, grimacing at her still damp robes, singed at the edges. She was still so tired. Her head felt fuzzy and heavy. She sighed and shook her head. Of course he didn’t think to put her in something dry. Now she would have to sleep on a damp bed all night. The elemental chattered again and nudged the spoon at her, the resumed patrol of the bowl.

 

The soup was still warm, and she smiled at the elemental as she warmed her hands on the bowl. It whooshed and chattered, bouncing slightly on the nightstand, seeming to watch her every move as she started to sip at it. Lifting an eyebrow, she wondered if Kras had left it to keep watch on her.

She peered around the bedroom as she sipped the broth, nearly dropping the spoon when she saw it. She tipped her head at the attentive elemental, then looked in the direction of the corner. It skittered across the room eagerly and bounced on the floor nearby, illuminating the corner. There was a dress form, which hadn’t been there before, and draped perfectly on it was the most beautiful dress… It looked much like the one she had lusted over in a shop in the trade district for weeks. She always thought it was a bit too pricey, and she rarely had an opportunity to wear such a thing. Fighting her exhaustion, she struggled out of the bed and made her way across the room, reaching out to finger the deep red satin. It was low cut, but not indecent. The bodice laced in a mock corset on the front and back, with black satiny ribbon, and the skit fell simply to the floor. She had tried on a similar one a few weeks before at the shop. Modest sleeves fell to her fingertips, edged in delicate, but not overly frilly, black lace. This one was much richer, much more sumptuous, than the one in the shop, and she wondered how he had had it made so quickly. She dropped her eyes to the floor. It must have been so expensive.

She peeled away the damp robes that served as her armor, kicking them away with a hoof and drying her skin and hair with a towel from the linen closet. Her hands shook as she carefully removed the dress from the form, slipping it over her head. It fit perfectly, she marveled, and smoothed the fabric along her torso, eyeing herself in the mirror. Behind her, Krastos stood in the doorway, eyes shining and smiling. He approached as she ducked her head shyly, silently pulling the corseted back taut and lacing her up. He lifted her hair from the back of her neck and kissed her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her tentatively, resting his cheek against her head. She tensed slightly, not sure if she should forgive him.

“I know you’re still upset at me, Lena,” he started. She pursed her lips and sighed. She was still upset. She opened her mouth to say something smart, but stopped herself. He knew why she was upset. He knew now the risks he was taking. Did she have to live with that fact? She raised her eyes to the mirror and watched him watching her. She looked deeply into the reflection of his eyes and searched, knowing all they had been through together, thousands of years of all sorts of creatures coming after them, being broken and starving and lost in the universe. The draenei had survived so much, she thought. She closed her eyes and stayed silent.

When she opened them again, he was still watching her nervously. His arms around her grew tighter, as if he was afraid to let go, afraid she would run again. Her body relaxed against him and she turned her head, burying her face in his neck.

If they had survived all these millennia, surely this challenge would be no worse than the rest.

 

Burn

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn

But that’s alright because I like the way it hurts

Just gonna stand there and hear me cry

But that’s alright because I love the way you lie

I love the way you lie

Her eyes were furious as she lifted her staff, slamming it into the ground and a wave of flames and arcane energy advanced toward him.

–

Lena had wrestled out of his grip, hooves clomping down the stairs, throwing on her armor, grabbing her staff and daggers and untying Pryt from the porch with trembling fingers.  Mounting up, she nudged the animal and he shot forward, narrowly ducking and twisting around the residents of Stormwind as they fled the city, her cloak flying behind her.  She leaned forward in the saddle, laying low against the talbuk’s neck as he charged forward, through Elwynn Forest, through the pit of sin that was Goldshire, past the logging camps, and into the Redridge Mountains.  The air was suddenly dry, the soil soft and loose and dusty, and she pulled up on Pryt’s reins, slowing his frantic gallop to an easy, more relaxed run.

Krastos had promised.  He had vowed that he had stopped working with the Underground.  He swore he wouldn’t put her in danger any more.  The trunk full of treasures and gold that was supposed to last them through the tough times, she knew, he had acquired it through the work he did with them.  But he promised he was done with that life.  He worked for Shadows of Argus now.  There was too much at stake now that they were starting a new order, now that they were on their own out there.  She rubbed at her face, swiping angrily at the tears that came despite her fury.  They were watching her now.  They were following him.  They were taking stock of what they could take back from him.  He had earned all that, and they wanted to take it away.

She had been brushing her hair, smoothing it out after their day-long session in the bed, at the dresser when he came up behind her with a pained look.  He wrapped his arms around her naked body and pulled her against him, nuzzling at her neck apologetically.  She looked at his reflection in the mirror, eyebrows furrowed, face falling as he began talking.  Once you’re in, you can’t leave, Lena.  He had said.  It’s not that simple.  She turned around and glared at him directly, “What do you mean it isn’t that simple?  Just walk away, Kras!”  He had sighed and pressed his forehead against hers, arms tight around her back, “I have, Lena.  I walked away a long time ago.  But they’ll always be watching.  They’ll always be following me.  I know too much.  They’ll always be trying to get me back or kill me.”  He let the last statement hang between them as it sunk in.

Lena growled and wriggled away from him, pushing him away, and slapping him across the face, cursing him out in Draenic.  ”How can you do this to me?  How can you tell me this?  Kras, didn’t you think before you signed on with them in the first place?”

“I didn’t have a choice, Lena!”  He took a step toward her.  ”Do you remember what it was like when we landed here?  We had no home, we had no food, no shelter, no way to know what was good or bad about this planet.  I had to provide for you, Lena, for my people.  They offered money – a lot of it – for basic tasks.  Sure, eventually, I was doing less than savory things, but it had a purpose, Lena!”  His voice was growing louder as he got closer, but she kept shaking her head and backing away.  He finally caught her, grabbing her arms and pressing her up against the wall.  She struggled and ducked away from him, making her escape.  ”LENA!” he bellowed as she fled.

Maybe our relationship isn’t as crazy as it seems

Maybe that’s what happens when a tornado meets a volcano

 

Kras smashed his head against the wall, punching it, barely feeling the pain.  He’d fucked up.  He dressed quickly, grabbing his shields and finding his own talbuk ready to ride outside.  He closed his eyes for a moment, sensing her, trying to see where she might have gone.  He called on the ancestors to give him a lead.  After a moment he nodded to himself, mounted up, and headed out of the city.

Coming through the pass in Redridge, he saw Pryt’s frantic hoofprints.  They seemed to slow in the sandy soil by the lake, but continued on.  He thought he saw a glimpse of her telltale red armor shimmering in the sun up ahead and nudged his talbuk to catch up with her.  When he was in earshot, she popped off a curse over her shoulder, and nudged Pryt back into a run.  ”Lena!” he called, spurring his own mount into a gallop, “Come home.  You’re going to wear out that damn talbuk!”

Suddenly, she pulled up on Pryt, swinging down from the saddle.  Even from a distance, he could see the anger on her face.  He saw her mouth moving as she raised the staff and slammed it against the ground.  His talbuk reared at the wave of crackling arcane energy and fire rolling toward them, tossing Krastos to the ground and bolting.  So that’s how we fight this out, then, Kras thought, scrambling to his hooves when the air returned to his lungs.  So be it.  He lifted his shield to protect his face from the oncoming magic as he prepared himself.

 

Krastos summoned and threw a grounding totem as far as he could, hoping it would land in her range and slow her spells.  He knew how dangerous she could get when her temper was out of control.  She scowled at him, and he saw her mouth moving as she chanted the incantations that would volley her power at him.  She let loose with a series of quick fireballs, which he deflected easily with the shield, calling on the nearby lake to rise up and dampen any fires that she might cause on the dried, dead earth.  He glanced up at the skies, just a few moments sunny with few clouds, now darkening with a storm.  He had asked the skies to assist in balancing her, helping to calm her or deflect her enough so that he could communicate with her.  Now, he called for lightning and directed it from the sky, to his fingers, toward her, where he wrapped her in it, not intending to hurt her, but to slow her even more.  The crackling energy pinned her arms to her sides and he pulled her towards him.  As she got close, she let loose with close range spells that didn’t require channeling.  Her mind lay down a circle of fire around them and she threw her head back and laughed wickedly, a cone of fire seeming to emit from her throat at his face.  She had set both of them on fire.  Her robes were starting to burn, and he smelled the unpleasant stench of burning hair.  He gasped and glanced up at the skies, quietly asking for rain to heal the scorch marks she was leaving in her wake.

The winds picked up as the storm sensed Lena’s unrest and Kras’s desperate attempts to calm her.  Clouds opened up and rain began pouring down, the lake churning dangerously, waves lapping angrily at the shore in the wind.  Lightning struck the earth nearby, breaking both their concentrations as it knocked them to the ground.  Lena was freed from her lightning stasis and started winding up for another devastating fire spell, struggling to her hooves as she pushed Kras away.  He called upon the wind, feeling it surround him, watching her quietly as it interrupted her cast.  She howled in frustration, stomping a hoof and trying to start over.  Kras frowned as he let go of a lava burst of his own, a fireball that interrupted her once again, praying it wouldn’t injure her too badly.  She was more than frustrated now, and he knew he risked her very life if he pushed her over the edge now.  He hated to do it, but he cast an ice block, freezing her in place, keeping her from casting for the third time in a row.  The storm raged around them as he looked at her sadly.  He pressed his hands against the ice and searched for her eyes.  ”I’m sorry, Lena.”  He whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear him, hoping that she could read his lips.  The anger in her eyes lessened as she was contained by the ice, immobilized.

When he felt her anger receding, he asked that the ice return to water, watching it splash to the ground, and Lena with it.  She gasped for breath, soaked to the skin from the rain and the ice, and cried as he knelt beside her, gathering her in his arms.  ”I’m sorry, Lena,” he said again, whispering it in her ear this time as he stroked her sopping hair.  ”You are my life, and I am so sorry that I have ever put you in danger.”  She continued to cry, defeated.

They sat there in the mud, listening to the storm continue to rage overhead, feeling the rain washing them clean.

Going

Lena grinned and nipped at Kras’s earlobe, slowly extricating herself from his lap, tucking the letters back into the trunk and standing between his knees.  She draped her arms around his neck, knowing that her bare breasts hung right before his face as she kissed his forehead reverently.  Her hands massaged their way down along his arms and she grabbed his hands, sliding one behind her and placing it squarely on her bare ass.  The other, she tugged down, pressing his fingers between her legs, letting him feel how wet she was already.  Her legs automatically spread for him while she eagerly pushed his fingers against herself.  Letting out a breathy moan, she rocked her hips forward, looking down at him sitting on the bed, holding her between his hands.  She smiled and lowered her forehead to his, spreading her knees wider, pushing out against his thighs to steady herself.  His fingers started moving against her and she groaned, “We can get breakfast later, no?”

 Lena squealed and smiled lazily as he picked her up rather effortlessly and laid her back on the bed, happy to reclaim it as theirs.  She purred up at him as his fingers worked, arching her back and eagerly lifting her hips to her shaman.  She loved the feel of his weight on her, pushing her into the bed, holding her still, and she moaned when he slid down along her body, kissing the insides of her thighs as he spread them further apart.  Her shaman was always so good to her, she thought, as his tongue danced along her clit, holding her hips still as she trembled.  One hand gripped the blankets tightly in a fist as the other snuck up and massaged her breast, kneading it roughly and pulling at the nipple.  Her head rolled back as his tongue pushed inside her briefly, then moaned when he went back to biting gently at her clit.

It had been so long since she felt him.  All other thoughts of those pursuing her affections fell away as he continued playing with her.  As his teeth closed gently around her clit again, he suddenly pushed two of his large fingers inside her and she yelped, nearly sitting up, panting as she held herself back.  She knew he’d never let her cum like that.  She had to wait.  She had to beg permission.  And even then, it was only when he wanted it.  He would keep pushing, though.  And he did.  His fingers pushed deeper inside her, curling against her as she tightened around them.  She felt him grinning against her thighs as he kissed them, then rested his chin on lower belly and watched her.  She lifted her head slightly and gazed at him, whimpering softly.  Yes, Master.  She is yours.

Lena grabbed for his shoulders, eagerly pulling him down on top of her again, lifting her hips to meet him.  She groaned into his shoulder as his cock sunk deep into her, then lifted her arms above her head and smiled wickedly up at him.  Her fingers brushed the chains kept discreetly along the headboard.  She had installed them herself, after much cursing at the wood bedframe and wondering if it would actually hold up to their marathon sessions.  She nearly purred as she tightened around him, remembering his eyes light up when he found the cuffs attached to the ends of the chains.

He reached up and instead wrapped his large hands around her wrists and held her there.  She grinned and squirmed in his grasp, testing his grip and pushing her hips tighter against him, nipping at his tendrils.  He pushed back against her with a satisfied grunt, resting his full weight on her.

She smiled innocently while her hips rocked against him, wide eyes staring into his, “Belongs to Master…”

Lena groaned and felt her body tighten as his gruff command rumbled in her ear.  She could only come for him, and only when he commanded.  He owned her, controlled her orgasms, took great pleasure in making her squirm only to leave her breathless and whining.  But today, he needed her, needed to feel her enjoying him.

He had been gone so long this time.  She whimpered and looked up at her Master with wide eyes, squirming under him.  She lifted her knees and pushed her hips up to meet him.  When his hands tightened around her wrists she let go, her cunt spasming around his cock and burying her head in his shoulder as she let out a loud groan.  ”Only…” she panted, “Only comes for Master…”

Lena nipped at his neck as he came inside her, purring and smiling wickedly up at him.  She loved how he felt inside her, the way his body gave in to hers.  She rocked her hips up against him gently, flexing around him, and listened to him groan.

As they both relaxed, she rubbed her cheek against his chest and he kissed her.  She yawned languidly and stretched under him, suddenly drowsy again.  She was safe in his arms, his weight keeping her secure under him, in their bed, in their home.  She wriggled her wrists from his hands and wrapped her arms around him, tugging at the long ponytail of dark hair trailing along his back.  Rolling out from under him and laying on her side next to him, she draped a leg over his.  ”Must we get up today, Master?” She pouted playfully and wiggled close, pressing herself against him and tugging a blanket up over them.  His large hand came to rest on her waist and he laughed softly, “Well, we do have to get this house in order, Lena.”

Her pout grew deeper, and she tipped her head as he quirked an eyebrow as if he had an idea.  He traced a finger up along her figure and tugged at her collar gently before kissing her forehead and glancing furtively at the window.  Looking back at her with an evil sparkle in his eye, he grinned, “And maybe I should watch you do it… naked.”

Lena blushed and ducked her head shyly at the memory.  Her Master had her completely under his thumb, and she loved every moment of it, even when it was risky.  She knew he wouldn’t put her in harm’s way, or risk her modesty or position with the order or the larger community.  That’s what allowed her to take those risks with him.   She smiled and rubbed her forehead along his chest, her hands wandering along his scarred blue skin.  They were so small against his broad chest, she thought, as she watched her fingers.  He chuckled again at her reaction and wrapped his arms tight around her, gathering her up in one of those smothering bear hugs that she loved.

She glanced back at the windows and pouted slightly, “But, Master… I haven’t even gotten the curtains up.  Surely, you don’t want to share a naked pet with the rest of the city.”

Kras smiled into her hair and lifted her chin for a kiss.  ”Of course not,” he rumbled possessively, a thick finger tracing a line down her body.  He gripped her bottom and pulled her hips closer, rocking against her teasingly, “So let’s do that first.  That’s what you can wear the apron for.”

Lena smirked and crawled out of the bed when he let her go, digging for a robe and fingering the curtains she had left by the dresser.  He watched, stretched out on the bed, lifting his hands behind his head with a teasing grin.  He had already drilled the holes and put up the curtain rod, so she climbed up onto the trunk and fussed over perfectly draping the fabric, her robe hanging open a bit.

“Good.  Now lose the robe,” he said sternly when she stepped down.  He loved making her blush, he thought, as she slid the silk from her shoulders and revealed the blue flush in her skin.  He let out a pleased, silent sigh at the sight of his pet.  ”Have you unpacked all the clothes and upstairs things?”  His voice took on a commanding tone, and she melded seamlessly into his obedient pet.  He smiled to himself and sat up against the headboard, watching her.  Lena shook her head slightly, eyes on the foot of the bed, hooking her fingers together in front of her body, anxious to cover herself, but more anxious to please him.  ”Go get a box and unpack it for me, pet.”  She scurried from the bedroom and returned, dragging a large bin along the floor.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he commanded her to her knees, smirking as she dropped like a shot, her thighs spread, wrists resting inside up on them, the customary position for when he asked her to present.  He stood and nudged the bin out of the way, coaxing her thighs even further apart and stroked her hair.  She made a soft purring sound and rubbed her head against his hand ever so slightly, but he suddenly gripped her hair and pulled her head back, gazing down into her surprised face.  ”None of that, pet.  We have things to do today.”  She nodded slightly, then her forehead crinkled as his grip tightened on her hair.  He leaned down, pressing his lips against her forehead and murmured, “I say, you do.  That’s how this works today.”  He waited for her nod, but gave a pleased smile when she didn’t react.  Repressing the natural urge to react to stimuli and general social contracts like nodding, smiling, and speaking, was something they had been working on for a long time.  It was often frustrating for her, but he was always so proud when she remembered.He sat back down on the bed, leaning back on the headboard.  Piece by piece, he had her pull out objects from bin after box after bag and present them to him, then directing her every move and each item’s location in their home.  After a couple of hours, she was flushed and clearly tiring from the constant up and down, scampering to put away every single belonging, one thing at a time.  He patted the bed beside him, calling to her to climb up next to him and present.  She scrambled up onto the mattress and knelt beside him, knees spread, the backs of her hands resting on her thighs.  Her head was down and she was clearly trying to focus on her breathing.  His eyes were locked on her breasts and he reached out his hand, resting his palm on her belly, smiling wickedly at her.  ”Such a good pet I have,” he said, and slid the hand down between her legs.  She visibly relaxed, but made no reaction.  He pressed his fingers against her, just barely pushing inside, feeling her tremble slightly.  ”Look at me, pet,” he commanded.  She had a habit of avoiding his eyes, which in many cases was appropriate.  But today, he wanted to see her.  She lifted her eyes slightly and peered at him timidly as his fingers teased her.

“I wonder what we should do next…”

Lena waited patiently, keeping her eyes on his and staying quiet, acutely aware of his hands on her and trying not to squirm.  She dared not move until he asked her to.  Suddenly, his hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her bodily into his lap where he cradled her close and kissed along her neck.

Kras loved holding her in his lap like this, his beautiful little pet curled up against his chest, letting herself relax into him and giving him permission to have power over her.  She was strong on the battlefield and in front of the order, purposeful in her studies, dedicated to the causes of the Alliance, but here in his lap, she let herself be helpless, letting him be fiercely protective, showing him what she couldn’t show anyone else.  They were off duty for a few days, at least, and he had plans.

He nuzzled her hair and gave her a squeeze.  ”My sweet little pet,” he breathed in her ear and felt her shiver.  His hand was kneading along her thighs and he smiled faintly.  He shifted again, laying her on the bed on her stomach.  She was relaxed enough to let him do what he wished with her body with minimal resistance.  She looked up at him questioningly as he got up and opened his trunk again, looking for something.  ”Put your head down, pet,” he rumbled sternly.  Her head hit the pillow and he smiled while he pulled something from a hidden compartment in the trunk and laid it on the bed beside her.  He was slow, deliberate.  He had plans.

As he stepped back to her side, his fingers trailed lightly along her skin, from her ankles to her shoulders.  He spread her legs as he moved purposefully, spending a few extra beats cupping and kneading her ass.  He massaged along her spine, ending at the base of her skull, carefully kneading and watching her eyes droop as she let down more of her defenses.  Under his fingers, he felt any remaining tension drain from her body, and he leaned down, kissing her cheek and tucking her hair behind her ear.  He had plans.

He reached across her body and picked up what he retrieved from the trunk.  Pointed, but not overly sharp, metal claws, one for each finger.  Once in place, he lightly walked his new claws along her spine, watching her face as she tried to figure out what it was.  His free hand slid down along her ass, giving it an appreciative squeeze before nudging her thighs apart even more, teasing along her slit.  The claws increased their pressure, but so did his hand between her legs, finding her clit and gently pressing against it.  He smirked as he heard her breathing quicken, body tensing slightly as she tried to stay in control.  He knew she wanted so badly to grind against his fingers, but he had plans.

Kras lifted his clawed hand and traced his pointer along her cheek very lightly, letting her feel the metal, warmed already by her body.  The same finger began to trail along her back, leaving light welts in its wake.  The fingers at her clit circled gently, then slid back and pressed into her cunt, ever so slightly.  He watched her face, her lips parting and letting out a silent gasp.  He added another claw and increased the pressure on her back, fingers pushing inside at an agonizingly slow pace.  He took a deep breath and calmed himself, lest he get too excited by his pet’s internal struggle.  She was so wet, and trying to pull his fingers deeper inside.  She groaned softly, but he heard it, pulling his hand away from her cunt and giving her ass a swift slap, dragging one claw, digging deep, against her back between her shoulder blades, an angry welt rising and a few tiny drops of blood appearing.  She whimpered and squirmed for a moment, eyes squeezed shut.

He leaned down to her face and whispered, “Who does this body belong to, pet?”

Her face crumpled and she opened her eyes slightly and whispered back, “Master.”

“And who gets to do whatever he wants to this body, pet?”

“Master…”

“And who decides when pet gets to play?”

“Master…”

He gave her ass another slap and stood back up, giving her a moment to compose herself.  Frowning at the welt he had created, he smeared the blood with the claws, then almost as an afterthought, brought them to his lips and licked her blood from them, smiling to himself as he tasted her.

He had plans.

Lena lay still on the bed, wanting so badly to grind her hips against his hand to rub her clit.  To stop herself from whimpering out loud, she buried her face under the pillows, biting at the sheets as Krastos’s hand returned to her ass after his lecture.  Her cheeks burned in shame at not being able to control herself, and for disappointing him.  She vowed to be a better pet.

Kras lifted the pillow that was covering her head and smiled faintly as his hand massaged her ass.  His girl was so shy.    She shivered as he touched the claws to her back.  He lowered his other hand between her legs, gently caressing her.  His smile grew wider as he teased and she didn’t move.

He nudged her side and rolled her over onto her back, pressing his palm to her belly, ignoring, as always, the indentation of a scar from Argus times.  She’d never told him the whole story, and as far as he cared, it didn’t matter.  To have remained all these millennia, the wound must have been grievous.  Dragging a claw along her torso to her neck, he tapped her chin, looking for her eyes.  She peered up at him shyly, timidly… trustingly.

Kras climbed onto the bed, straddling her and leaning forward, rocking his hips teasingly against her pelvis as he reached for the cuffs hidden in the headboard.  He sighed softly, laying down on top of her while he secured her wrists, biting gently along her shoulder.  He could feel her struggling to stay calm, knowing that she wanted him.  Sitting back up, he dragged his fingers along her body, claws on one hand, none on the other, grinning down at her, never taking his eyes off hers.

He lifted the clawed hand and clinked the metal appendages together so she could see, a wicked gleam in his eye, before latching the claws around her breast, the nipple just barely brushing against his palm as he dug deep.  She froze under him, her breathing uneven and haggard, and he knew she was trying not to make a sound.  And she looked away.  He tapped her chin again and gazed at her sternly, claws wriggling in the flesh of her breast.  He lifted an eyebrow.  Breathe.  Her eyes widened and she struggled for a moment, looking at him desperately as he rested his hand between her breasts, before her breathing returned to normal.  Good girl.

He hadn’t intended to break the skin, but the claws were new, and sharper than he counted on.  He frowned down at his hand, then at her breast.  She was bruising already, and he had indeed drawn blood, tiny blue pinpricks seeping from the skin.  He bent down, licking it clean, then biting at her nipple, tugging gently with his teeth.  She was breathing hard again, and he grabbed her chin and gazed at her pointedly.  This time, she calmed down without him saying a word.

 

Progress.