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PostPosted: Thu Sep 17, 2009 1:48 pm 
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Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:41 am
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She is naked except for a twisted copper ring, the bruises dark blue and purple on her skin like shadows in the moonlit room. She rubs at one absently, looking at the empty bed with its rumpled sheets and tousled covers, two pillows casually on the floor. Absently, she reaches down and tosses them back onto the mattress, then stretches. Abruptly she seems to come to some kind of decision, hissing between her teeth, pixielike features briefly creasing in frustration. She doesn't bother to get dressed, crossing the room and picking up a mostly-empty flask before swinging gracefully onto the windowsill, lounging, one leg dangling over two stories of empty air. The play of moonlight over her skin seems to fascinate her for a long time; she stares down at one of the larger bruises with a little frown of concentration.
At last she sighs, draining the flask before dropping it out the window, leaning her head back against the window-frame. Her voice is low, exhausted, when she speaks.
"Gelnik." The imp appears in the middle of the room with a little pop, peering curiously up at her. There's a cackle of Demonic from the creature, but she shakes her head. "Take a letter, Gelnik. Send it to me before I get up this morning." She stares out at nothing, and begins:


Dear Lydiane this morning:
Stay in bed. It will be better to ignore Rille's note and not show. The only thing you're gonna do right today is bring the rings for the Family, and that's so far outweighed by what you do wrong that it don't count. Even Markosh is gonna walk out and go find a real woman, which is why you're writing this letter to yourself now warning you not to...
She trails off, lips moving silently.
Scratch that bit about Markosh, Gelnik. New paragraph.

You shouldn't've brought Gelnik out. Nobody understood. Was better when nobody knowed about him at all, but now...Not even Rille. You done said something wrong there too, made her walk away. Don't forget this, Lyd-this-morning: Family you choose can unchoose you.
The rings was a good idea, though. Made people smile. Tied you together. Wonder where Ry was, though. Wonder if he done unchoosed, or what. Maybe you oughtta go looking for him instead of killin Defias. All this magicking, doing something to you.
She shivers, looking longingly down at the broken bottle below.
Only...don't think I'm telling you to give it up. Never felt so good like I do full of magic. Never give up Gelnik. Even if the Family unchooses you...even if Shad leaves again...you got Gelnik. You chose that. And he can't leave you just 'cause you said it wrong.
She gives the imp a fierce, possessive look, then sighs.
Also, Rostlen? Likes Jan. Bug off. You got a man, if you're enough woman for him. Man who can teach you about real power, how to make sure the Family can't leave you neither. You just gotta stop being such a kid.
Love - Lydiane from tonight.

And with that she slips off the windowsill. The imp fades back out of view as she climbs into the rumpled bed, clutching one of the pillows to her and closing her eyes.

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PostPosted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 7:32 am 
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The dwarven girl is dozing at her bedside when she opens her eyes; her gaze is bleary and not quite focused, her hair a bird's nest of bright red. She yawns, eyes squinting half-shut against even the dim half-light of Ironforge, and sits up carefully. Slowly.
Her features crease with the effort; she steadies herself with her hands and looks down at the crumpled robe she's still wearing from the previous night's festivities, a little moue of distaste forming. She waves as nonchalantly as possible at the dwarven girl, who nods a bit and closes her eyes once more, and pulls herself up and out of the bed. The movements are not graceful, but they are quiet at least, and she is out of the window a few moments later and up to the roof of the building, clinging unsteadily to handholds and footholds with seeming disregard for what will happen if she slips.
Settled securely in the bend between roofing and the wall of the cavern itself, she murmurs the imp's name, and it is there. "Take another letter, Gelnik."


Dear Lydiane yesterday morning:
Sam's got plenty of friends, it seems. Not all of them ain't human, neither. You knowed Lynn was one, and it looks like she found her own family. And so on. And might be maybe they all knows about not leaving folks, and might be they all knows about choosing and unchoosing.
But it might be there's somebody in there, wouldn't unchoose you. Except you was too drunk to remember who nobody was. So that's the advice I got for you this time, Lyds: watch out for free beer from dwarves.

Shad wasn't there again. In some kinda trouble, so don't go looking out for him to big-brother you there. But Lynn'll watch your back. And they got crazy bunnies with wings and horns. For loving on, except the horns is pretty poky. And if you wasn't too drunk to walk, you could'a rode rams, so look around a bit afore you hit the sample tables.

She rubs her temples exhaustedly, the little wince fading a bit, and then reaches over. Finding she hasn't brought her bag with her, she gives a little sigh and stares at the imp, leaning her head back against the wall..
I don't know, Lyds. You wasn't at your best last night. Mebbe there's some kinda talent you got that'll make them care enough to matter about unchoosing. But you better get crackin' on it.

It's like Markos says: you gotta earn love. Every time. Gotta deserve it. And mebbe that's the problem, Lyds. Mebbe people leave 'cause you don't deserve no better. You ain't quite inneresting enough to love.
And going out and getting drunk until you fall down? Don't make you no more inneresting than the next girl on her back in the snow, no matter how many Dark Irons you clocked on the way to getting there.

A deep, shuddering breath.
But it's like the magic. When you got it all in you, it don't matter. You don't care no more. Nothing matters except that feeling. So mebbe you just oughtta stay drunk and hang out in the Shadow alla time.

Wonder what Shad'd think of that? Take care of yourself, kid.
Love -
Lydiane this morning.

She dismisses the imp with a gesture, and turns to climb back down the wal, no more steady than before. Through some miracle, she makes it back to the windowsill and collapses inside with an audible thump. The dwarven girl stirs, looking up at her.

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PostPosted: Fri Oct 09, 2009 10:16 pm 
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It is not quite dawn; the sky grey and blue with the fading night, the stars dim. Lydiane is wrapped in a checkered blanket clearly appropriated from the cots in the inn, as she moves quietly out the door. There is a slim, ordinary-appearing brown book in her hands. She gives the briefest of backward glances, but the dark-haired girl on the cot next to hers slumbers on. She closes the door of the inn behind her, and ambles out into the hills surrounding the town. "Gelnik." And the imp is there. "Take a letter."

Dear Lydiane from yesterday:

Don't be afraid, none. Family's fam'ly. They gon' stick by you no matter what you done tell 'em 'bout demons an' warlockin'. Even Rost. An'.
A long, slow sigh.

An' Doon, he's right on. You got yourself a bad smith in Mark. Smart kid like you, you should'a knowed better too. Except...he gave you Gelnik when you didn't think there was nothing to hold on to. So that's one good thing he done, even if the fam'ly don't care much for the demons. An' you done learned plenty 'bout pleasin' a man, no doubtin' there. But he done you bad, too. Got you thinkin' you wasn't nothin' without him. An' that ain't noways true, cause you...you got Sam.

Briefly, the gamine face lights with a soft smile, warm, without the mischief and cynicism that usually undergird Lydiane's expressions. She fingers the book in her hands, looking down at it for long minutes.
You always got Sam.

You gon' hafta face the music, Lyds. There's other warlocks out there'll teach you. Other men, if y'get lonely for that. But Mark...he's poisonin' you. And you got family, gon' keep with you. Let you get out the big guy.
And at that, she shivers hard, fear replacing the smile.
He's so strong. You gotta watch him every minute. He migh' break loose, and you don't know what he'd do then. Bout killed you firs' time you met. Hates you lots. What if you lost control? What if this ain't such a good idea? Mark said...he said the demons was part of it, but what if he was lying? Think he might be the kinda man'd lie 'bout that.

But we're gonna go. Tel him I ain't goin' round his place no more. An' the family...they all said they'd come. You just hadda tell 'em the truth, Lyds, and things, they come together. Like Sam said.
Just...be careful, okay?

Love an' stuff,
Lydiane tonight.

She takes out the slim brown volume, tilting it to catch the faint light of burgeoning dawn, and begins to read once again.

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PostPosted: Fri Oct 16, 2009 2:58 pm 
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Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:41 am
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Her stride is not precisely steady as she meanders into the little dormer room; more of a weave than an amble. Once inside, she closes the door, stepping out of the robe, kicking it aside. She stands there, staring at the reflection in the wavy-faced mirror hung on the back of the door, spreading her arms akimbo and surveying what she sees intently. She turns, studying her profile, sucking in the flat stomach and throwing her shoulders back a bit, then giggles as she stumbles a bit. She moves to the bed, flopping down naked on top of the coverlet. "Gelnik, take another letter." She doesn't look to see the response, just begins to speak.

Dear Lydiane from two days ago:
There's somethin' differnt about killin' somebody you know. I don't rec'mend it to nobody. When Rille and the others offer you a choice? I don't know what you oughtta do, but if you gotta go downstair, you ain't goin' to be the same girl no more. There's gonna be...somethin' differnt about you. You gon' be the girl who done set a void on the man done her wrong. An' there's somethin' strong about that an' there's somethin' scary about that. An' it ain't never goin' go away.

But they was there, Lyds. Your family, they was there. Rille an' Jan an' Rost, they didn't turn no backs. They blooded him firs', an' Rost stood watch, an' there wasn't nobody givin' you no shi-ott for what you did. This is real. They're real. They ain't never goin' to leave you, if they stuck with you for that.

Now you just gotta do 'em proud.
Love an' stuff.
Lydiane from tonight.

She closes her eyes, then pulls the coverlet around herself, waving the imp back to invisibility.

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PostPosted: Thu Oct 29, 2009 4:19 pm 
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He gets to his feet, a shadow in the midnight gloom, broad-shouldered with close-cropped hair. Anonymous, his face invisible as he looks down at her, he tugs his pants up with the faint jingle of mail, clasping the swordbelt around slim hips. "Thanks for the good time, kid. Go buy yourself another drink or two." A silver coin reflects the ambient light as it passes from hand to hand, and she closes her fingers around it, staring up at him.
Her grin is crooked. "Look me up 'nother sometime." He turns around with a little grunt, and ambles out of the copse of trees, back toward the lights of Southshore. After he's out of sight, she lets the grin fade, and reaches out to reassemble the remains of her wardrobe. "Gelnik." The imp fades into view, holding out a bit of silky cloth. "Thanks." She pulls it on, then exhales, leaning half-dressed against a little sapling. "Take a letter, willya?"


Dear Lydiane from this morning -

Better go find out what yer brother's been up to. Las' time he done disappeared like this ya found out later he got hisself brigged. Won't do none, him gettin' hisself in trouble again. Specially not on no account of yourn. Mebbe better go look after Shad instead of tryin' to hook up Rost and Jan. They doin' just fine wi'out ya.

A wry little smile, and she looks down at the silver coin in her hand, turning it to catch the light.
Worth it, though, seein' his face when Jan walked up all dolled up. Worth every copper ya spent gettin' her dress made, watchin' his jaw drop like that. Watchin' her smile. They look good together, Lyds. Like people oughtta look when they're together. Happy. Thass what fam'ly's sposedta look like. Like they belong.

Ya know they gon' stick with ya, Lyds. Don' worry none 'bout that. Jan's good as havin' a real sister, an' Rille, well, y' never know what shadow she's gonna turn up in, but it'll be the one ya need. They fam'ly, sure, but they friends too. Ain't nobody better friends 'n the ones ya got. Even if...

She sighs, the coin flipoing over in her fingers.
Too bad there's only one o' Rost. Too bad Jan's your friend, but ya don't wanna throw that away over no boy. Learn that lesson good with Mark, didn't ya? Wonder what it takes, find a boy like Rost. Knight in shinin' ****in' armor. Boy like that won' hand ya a silver, tell ya ta buy y'self a drink after. Won'...

Ain't right, Lyds. You oughtn't ta be sittin' out here inna woods with your dress half-off wonderin' if that's all the fun there was. Sure it's good, long's it lasts. Helluva lotta good time, alla five minutes. But you ain't gon' go runnin' off an' tell Jan about whatcha did tonight, all smiles, like she did when he kissed her. You can't even remember bein' excited about no boy kissin' ya. An' don't argue that one. I been thinkin' about it.

She closes her fist around the silver piece suddenly, convulsively, bringing her knees up to wrap her arms around them and dropping her head onto them, shivering.
This ain't right neither, Lyds. There's gotta be more out there 'n gettin' drunk an' ****in' boys ya can't even 'member no names fer. I jus' wish I knowed how ta point ya at it. 'm sorry - ain't got no good advice right now. Jus' a silver piece 'm thinkin' I wished I didn' got.

Look out -
Lydane tonight.

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Played by Ayradyss.


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PostPosted: Tue Dec 08, 2009 9:01 pm 
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It is nightfall in Darnassus, blue and green and peaceful; even the girl sprawled on the roof of the inn looks less tense than usual, although that might be the effect of the half-empty bottle dangling from her hand. She rolls over onto her back, stretching out along the ridgepole, arms and legs akimbo, and stares up at the moon. "Take a letter, Gelnik." The imp fades into view, capering along the tiles.

Dear Lyds from this morning -

There's somefin' you don't know about yourself when you wake up. Today, it's a special day. Today, you gonna make your fam'ly proud. And you gonna survive a great big twisty wormy hole inna ground, fulla warlocks worshipin' some kinna old gods. And you gonna do it sober, wifout makin' a complete ass outta y'self.

She smiles, lifting the bottle, tilting it to her mouth with a practiced hand.

Who'd'a knowed water breavin'd come in so handy-like? Somefin' nobody looked crosseyed at you fer. Somefin' nobody hadda kinna fink about if dey wanted yer help on 'r not. Somefin' nobody else could do, like.
And you a warlock. Jus' like whazzit out inna Barrens told ya - you got more'n just frowin' shadow around. Dere's more to warlockin' 'n dat.

Another long drink, exhaling, eyes fixing on the moon ghosting through the sky overhead.

You know sometime you gotta face up to dat suckybus you got lingerin' aroun' inna Nevver. Bet dere's a fing or two she migh' be able t'a teach ya. Bet mebbe you learned a few fings since Mark - void ain't punched ya none after all. You can handle big Blue, you can handle some skizzy demoness wif a whip. Righ'?

Righ'.

She's smiling, now, gesturing with the bottle, sitting up to straddle the ridgepole as she takes another swig. The imp capers, and she spits a stream of wine at it, then giggles softly.

You gonna be all right, Lyds. You really gonna.

Love -
Lydiane tonight.

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PostPosted: Tue Dec 29, 2009 8:59 am 
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Moonlight filters in through the dormer windows, falling across the rickety bed, highlighting the girl's body in long silvered streaks, crossbraces of shadow darkening the valley between her shoulderblades, the hollow curve of her spine. Her pale skin is touched with a moon-washed glow, the fresh nail-marks across each shoulder standing out brilliantly. She leans her head forward, coming up to hands and knees, arching like a cat with a little hiss, something approaching pain.

From the corner, the demoness studies her nails, watching the girl through her fingers, as if comparing the spacing of the marks. There is a smirk on the fel lips, almost possessive. Her voice is low, intimate, the sibilants of Demonic easy on her tongue. <Not bad for a beginner.> And then there is only smoke and shadow, the mere suggestion of her form fading into the darkness.

Lydiane stretches, gaze searching the corner where the succubus had stood, something painfully eager in her expression briefly, before it is extinguished. She reaches down to dredge a pillow off the floor and sprawls naked across the bed once more, burying her face in the soft down. Her voice is muffled.
"Gelnik." The imp fades into view, sitting on the bedpost. "Take a letter."


Dear Lyds this morning -

Never knowed there was so many different kinds o' trouble to get into. Take this suckybus, for 'zample...
She sighs into the pillow, shivering.

You gotta figger, she ain't probably no good for you. You gotta figger that. I mean...somefing about a half-nekkid demoness wif a whip, probly was your firs' clue. But there's somefing about her you can't jus' ignore. An' she knows fings you didn't nevver even know there was to know. Case you never find no good boys, anyways.

She rolls over, wincing a bit as her shoulderblades contact the cool sheets, staring up at the ceiling, folding her hands over the smooth hollow of her belly. Her expression is distant, dreamy.

Don't fink it's supposedta be like this, Lyds. Mebbe you oughtta get up this morning an' make a rule: no summonin' the suckybus, not never. Cause she...she got you all tangled up again. She got a hold on you, cause now you know you can't stay away. She got control over you.

The hell's wrong wif you, Lyds? You supposedta be your own smif, no' hand it over to anybody who wants it. Them ovver warlocks inna caves, they didn't have no problems wif demons doin' whatever th' hell they wanted. Them ovver warlocks, they was the boss o' their demons. How come you ain't?

One hand glides over her skin, absently, even as she scowls into the air, and after a moment the expression fades, a faint smile on the pixie features..

Nex' time. Nex' time I won' let her boss me aroun' f' noffin. Thass a promise. From me t' you.

Love,
Lyds tonight.

The imp's tail coils around the bedpost as Lydiane relaxes, eyes drifting shut on a contented little exhalation. Fel-lit eyes lift from the redheaded girl sprawled on the sheets to the shadows in the corner, where there might be a ghost of a smile.

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PostPosted: Tue Jan 19, 2010 6:21 pm 
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Even in the dead of night, Stormwind Harbor never truly sleeps. There is an eerie wakefulness in the dancing lights of watchmen on their ships, the pace and call of guards on their patrols, the wash of waves against the shore. Above the harbor, night birds circle silently, calling softly as they ride the thermals created in the meeting of sea and land.
At the far dock, a graceful ship nudges its way through the night haze, the voices of its crew muted as they move in the dance of ropes and riggings, tying up. Far above in the crow's-nest two figures are nearly lost in the haze. The red-haired girl peers down as if she can pierce the fog with sheer force of will, while her companion takes his eyes off the land at last. He reaches down to swat her rump. "Get on wi' ye, lovey, afore they catch ye up 'ere."
She beams up at him. "Fanks f' ever'fing." And then she's over the edge with the agility of a ship's rat, slithering down the rigging. She picks up a heavy-looking pack and slings it over her shoulder before joining the handful of passengers disembarking, whistling a jaunty air.

On land, she moves unsteadily for the first few steps, as if her trip had been longer than the others'. It takes a few rolls before she finds her land legs again, heading for the endless staircases that separate the harbor from the gated entrance to Stormwind proper. Just shy of the bulwark she turns aside, into the shadows looming at the foot of the wall, heading into the hills that mark the end of human interventions. She flings herself down on a little knoll, overlooking the fog-misted ocean, and exhales contentedly. "Take a letter, Gelnik." The imp, capering, fades out of the mist and gives her an attentive look.


Dear Lyds las' week-

This is gonna be a long letter - whole lot been goin' on. Gon' start wif the mos' importan' fings, so lissen up. You ain't the only one got prollems, kid, an' mebbe you got somefin' you c'n do t' help. Dorie, she been good t' you, ain't stuck 'er nose up at you f' bein' a warlock. An' she got a friend wif a magic cat prollem. Sounds like he got hisself all tangly, jus' like you got y'self all tangly about y' suckybus, don't it?
There's a pause, the pixie features wrinkling at that thought.

Don' fink it's quite the same, Lyds. I mean, elfs is weird, an' woody an' all that, but I don' fink....
She shakes her head.
Anyway, you gotta figger magic cats, they ain't much differen' than demons. Mebbe elf kinda demons, but they gotta be runnin' aroun', finkin' they the bosses, tellin' folks what t' do. Makin' 'em love 'em. Jan, she got it easy. Sommat tells her they her boss, she punches 'em, an' they shut up. Easy. Some kinna suckybus put a move on Jan....
A low whistle. She smiles, proudly.
Don' fink Jan'd get all caught up. But if she did...might be a magic cat'd get her, though. Somefin' nice-seemin'. So you an' Dorie's frien', you got somefin' in common. Only, he got all tangly an' don' know it. Supposin' you get y'self untangly, mebbe you got somefin' t' share. Somefin' t' help.

She exhales, looking out over the foggy hills, looking thoughtful.
Goes like this, Lyds: you got a fam'ly been comin' up keepin' hold o' y'. Cleanin' up y' messes wif y'. Gone alla way t' Ashyvale, go punch demons, help y' practice gettin' tough. Y' got people y' c'n count on, ever' time y' **** up. You gotta obbygation, Lyds, gotta pay it back.
Lynn, she got a whole 'novver kinna tangly, mebbe you can't help, but you know somefin' about Shadow magic. You sposta anyway, mebbe you oughtta work on figgerin' out how t' get that ring outta her nose.
Rost, he goin' huntin' Defias. He done fings f' you he don't never wanna do, stood witness as low as you done sunk. You gon' do this f' him, and you gon' learn how t' boss shadows aroun', tell 'em what t' do instead o' gettin' lost in 'em.
An' Dorie, she don' know what t' do 'bout no magic cats, but mebbe y'do. Mebbe y'gotta get t' bossin' y' suckybus aroun' and then go see this magic cat f' y'self. See how t' get unner its skin.

She reaches back to rub at her shoulder with a little frown.
An' getcher **** t'gevver, Lyds. She can't be th' boss o' y' unless y' let her. No matter what she done t' you.

Fink that's enough. But make sure t' get out t' th' Axydar this week. They got some new cuts t' teach y'.

Love,
Lydiane this week.

She stretches out on the grass, closing her eyes, letting the fog sink into flesh, seemingly oblivious to the chill of the night air. Beside her, the imp's fel-lit eyes glow brightly for a moment as it glances back into the mist and the shadows. A laugh, ghostly, almost inaudible, drifts over the hills.

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Played by Ayradyss.


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