Slipping. Something had been slipping. The agony of the K'thir's attack still buzzed within her slowly recovering mind, clarity often denied. Anger, frustration, defeat. Those were the emotions she had been meant to barricade her inner world against, yet they were bubbling below with the threat to burst. Scream. Curse. Blame. Surrender.
Still, Celysiel was calmly arranging items within her backpack.
It had been an hour since Krator's return, an hour which could have been offered for rest had the apprentice not chosen otherwise. As the dawn's first rays slipped within the room, they shone upon sleepless eyes and a figure ready to collapse. She had been back in the Kingdom for less than a day after a rather unpleasant journey to one of Azeroth's warmest areas, only to soon be informed that her presence would be needed on the world's coldest continent. There was simply too much that needed to be done. Some letters sent at her new tol'vir contacts in Ramkahen. Zeinab's housing situation. A visit in Suncrown Village. Writing letters to inform the staff of her absence. And a farewell which had never been conveyed.
A sigh escaped her lips. To sleep, that was all Celysiel desired, yet obligation dictated otherwise. That mocking laughter rose at the back of her mind, only to be silenced by ancient rumbling. She ignored the war of the two wills to regard the sealed letters, one for Captain Adhemar's chief of staff, the other for the scholars of Uldum. She had considered writing one for the Farstrider, yet after their last conversation perhaps distance was wise.
Perhaps the summons to Northrend had been timely. To obey still remained a terrible idea.
Within the apprentice's backpack barely lingered anything to protect her from the cold, for her belongings remained out of reach still due to the slow procedure of bureaucracy, though at least some coin had been released during her time away. It had arrived with different kinds of summons for the future, the kind that made Northrend seem desirable. Furs would be absent; she could only pack her own blanket and hope that would be enough. A last unused healthstone. The journal obtained in Uldum would also come with her, along with at least two quills, vials of ink and any food she could take from the kitchens. A bottle of wine had also been acquired. She did not relish the thought of having a single sip while wandering in Northrend alone, yet alcohol's warmth would be direly needed. Lastly a hearthstone to bring her home. The journey to the destination would be long and arduous; there was no need for it to be repeated on the way back.
There was no reason for further delay. Celysiel rose on her feet, her right hand absently wandering to make certain everything was in order before departure. Flowers on the head. Cloak over shoulder. Jasmine hanging from the waist. Lantern waiting to be held. Emberdale's insignia attached. The feather. Her fingers brushed against the frail item. She had thought of leaving this treasure behind, but pride had proven itself too weak and inadequate for such a step to be made.
Lastly her slender digits moved to her chest, very well aware of the nothingness that their empty embrace would find. The locket was absent.
She turned around, her hand remaining where the jewel should have once been. Even in his avian form, Krator's eyes remained the same. Two white slits stared at her, the gaze piercing. With wings folded, the tendrils below poured downwards even if still occasionally wriggling, it sat perched over the apprentice's bed, hidden at a corner the sunlight would never touch. Shaking ever so lightly, like a pendulum, the silver locket hung from its beak.
The sight was slightly unnerving, macabre even. She had never surrended the necklace to the one it held before and to do so now did not feel right. It was almost as if the fiend was craddling its corpse. Almost. Yet the decision had been made. It was unwise. Her mind would waver, unprotected. Her already severe weakness would worsen. She would be alone in an unknown, dangerous land, obeying the summons of someone who had made attempts against her life in the past. It was an unnecessary gesture which would wield no fruit. It still had to be done. It was the middle ground and the middle ground had offered the worst of all options. The only alternative would be not to go entirely. She only hoped that Vealynn would understand what sacrifices were being made for her sake.
The mocking laughter echoed for once more, as if it knew something that she did not, but the ancient voice drowned it yet again. Celysiel's gaze softened on Krator. For that foul-looking being, there would always be love unbound.
"Let no one near it." she whispered, feeling the same discomfort as always when words between them were shared vocally. But perhaps this time she needed to hear them. "It is more you than me."
When in truth, it was them. Krator kept staring, unmoving.
"I will not be gone for long." she promised, only to realise that she did not know when she would truly return. Celysiel's fingers almost formed a fist at first, but then relaxed at the promise that was about to be made. That she could keep no matter what. "I will not let it be long. No more than a week." She would happily abandon everyone and everything just to keep her word to that fiend if required. In this case at least.
There were too many words that begged to be spoken, all of which inadequate. Once uttered, if even the right way to phrase them could be found, they would lose their meaning. However the bond they shared meant that nothing needed to be said at all. Celysiel looked at the creature long enough, as if trying to imprint that last image of it to memory. Eventually, she turned around, reaching for the backpack and lantern, then heading for the door.
Do not touch the flowers.
The calm, chilling voice whispered in her mind just as the first step was about to be made. Celysiel held a sigh back and closed her eyes. Krator had been repeating that whisper since Uto's fall, moreso than any other. All in vain. The flowers had already been touched. They were now dying slowly.
Do not go. Do not stay. Voices. The laughter. It would all be hers once she stepped out of that door, out of the Spire's portal for the Tundra. With no Heart to protect her, she would truly be alone into the unknown. Slipping. As something had been slipping. A foolish thing.
Do not go. Do not stay.
Celysiel walked outside and shut the door behind her.
Comments