Public forum for the writings of the members of the Order. Here you'll find background stories and other stories written by the members of the Order...

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Character: Aariam
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Post by Aariam » Thu Feb 05, 2015 10:45 am

Just a little scenario I felt like writing! An ordinary day in Aariam's life in Elodor. ;)

Aariam and Menori returned to Elodor sometime around the early afternoon, or at least so Aariam implied, based on the movement of the locals and the activities of the citizens. In the absence of a discernible rotation of light and darkness, she had learned to tell time based on what the locals were doing. Right now, many seemed to be feasting together with small meals, yet there were no sign of children. Aariam took this to be a midday meal, a break from the daily work. She admired how the Draenei managed to stick to their daily lives even in the face of encroaching danger, but she supposed that it was their way of coping. No war is ever won by giving up who you are, Aariam thought as her and Menori wandered into the town square. She smiled over at her mate, embraced her softly and gave her a quick kiss before returning to her quarters.

She had been fortunate that the Draenei had begun to respect her for her rank. When she had asked for some quarters to work in, she had been allowed to borrow a house that currently stood empty, on the condition that she would leave it if asked, and that the Order would continue to support Elodor. These terms had not been difficult to accept, and Aariam was more than pleased to have a private place where she could go over her documents and work in peace. It was not that she did things that she wished to hide from her brothers and sisters, it was simply that an inn is the bane of concentration, and working outdoors would leave her – and more importantly, the parchment and ink – vulnerable to sudden rainfall.

The house was located close to Elodor’s magnificent waterfalls, and she was as close as possible to the nearby hidden pond where she had enjoyed some nightly baths. Anhagath may have enjoyed the seas here, but lakes are my fancy, Aariam thought with a smile. She dug the key up from the satchel hanging from her belt, and unlocked the sturdy door. Once inside, she shut it behind her and wandered into the cool indoors. The table to her left was cluttered with books, maps, letters, and notes. At the very edge of the table sat a painting, commissioned by her beloved Menori, depicting their family. A lack of Colien, Aariam pondered, but perhaps I am overthinking it. She let out a soft chuckle as she looked over the drawn faces of herself, Menori, Fayte, and Ferith. I wonder what Ferith will become, two mothers and two sisters his nearest kin.

She seated herself by the table, and scoured the piles of paper for a clean sheet of parchment. It proved difficult, as hordes and hordes of requisitions, drafts, reports, and likewise seemed to have swallowed everything else. However, after a few minutes, Aariam managed to find a clean sheet of Draenic parchment. It felt a little bit different than what she was used to write on, but she boiled that down to the difference between Kalimdor and Draenor trees. The quill and ink were easier to find, and so she began to note down the events of the prior night. Her and Menori had departed from Elodor to take a small trek south to speak to the Draenei man they had captured in the mines below Elodor. He had been dubbed the “bag of stones”, as they did not want the Draenei woman to know that he was alive, especially after Aariam had told her that the man had been killed, and the crystal destroyed. They had taken the man to the camp further down south, for safeguarding until he woke up, so that they could interrogate him. She frowned. But, they had been too late. As they arrived, they could see Botani wandering off with both the “bag of stones” and the rest of the campers. They had set their camp too close to the Botani lands, apparently, and now they had to act quickly to get them back. The “bag of stones”, still called so in lieu of a better name, had to be recovered and questioned. He could justify Aariam’s passiveness, and reluctance to move out of Elodor. He could confirm that their theories of betrayal held some weight. Aariam finished writing down the report of what happened, and then began noting down the threat, and circling different locations on her map.

A knock on the door made Aariam sit up straight. Her work had gotten her into a trance, and the sensation of being disturbed was as unsettling as being woken by a loud bell. She felt herself shiver as the short burst of adrenaline left her body, and she stood up to open the door. Outside stood one of the Draenei acquaintances, one who had helped her very much in securing writing supplies, food, and other things. The girl did not seem to mind helping this foreign elf, and Aariam felt honoured. “I brought you some tea”, the girl spoke, holding out a steaming cup of tea for the kaldorei commander. Aariam smiled and nodded, taking the cup into her hands. She still felt a bit of fury that she had been disturbed, or perhaps it was because she had been so frightened by the sudden knock, but she thanked the girl warmly and set her on her way back. She shut the door and made her way to the balcony. It was a rather fantastic part of the house. One could see the place where the waterfalls hit the ground, or set their eye on the town square. One could even keep their eye on the marsh to the north, the one where they had landed many months ago. Aariam sat down in a chair and decided to look out over the village. Many of the midday feasters seemed to have disappeared, and a quiet had crept over the village. I suppose work consumed me more than usual, Aariam pondered as she blew cold air over the rim of the teacup. I hope someone fetches me if I forget dinner again. She smiled as if she was making a jest, but she was well aware that it had happened before, and might very well happen again.

She took a large sip of the hot tea, and exhaled with relief. Her current pleasure was a mixture of the delicacy of Draenor’s herbs, and the relative positivity that had been her fortune for the last few days. She had once again become the commander of the Sentinels, and this time around she would turn them into a true powerhouse, a force to be reckoned with. She knew it was a challenge, but she truly looked forward to it. Furthermore, Calisar seemed to truly have embraced a change from shadow, and Seiya had finally returned to the fold. A lot of her worries had been put to rest, but there was one big glaring problem stopping her from complete focus.

Soriah. Murderer of Aradia and Aelena, dishonourable cur, and deceitful cretin. Aariam’s fingers tightened around the teacup. They would need to trial her, and Aariam would have to suffer through Soriah’s lies and rationalisations, and some might even step up to defend her. She was nothing but a big spoke in the wheel of progress, and had been for months. Aariam’s face transformed into a scowl, the teacup almost shattering under the pressure. Oh, how she would argue her innocence, blame it on this “Caesia”. Aariam had no problem believing that Soriah was crazed, but would never accept it as justification for her actions. It’s a very convenient excuse, Aariam thought, releasing her stranglehold on the poor cup, and instead relieved it of some of its contents. But what is the truth? Perhaps she simply wished to remove all of Seiya’s true family. Aariam’s scowl lifted into an expression of true surprise. She couldn’t be that much of a lunatic. Could she?

Aariam wandered down from the balcony and back into her workroom. She set the cup down amongst the mess of papers, and absentmindedly glanced over some papers, the documents serving as a mere place to rest her eyes as her mind raced concerning Soriah. She found her hand slowly gliding down towards her moonblade, fingers trailing over the darkened pommel, eventually wrapping themselves around the black-and-red grip. All that she needed to do was enter the Lightbringer outpost, wander up to her room, and then with a decisive cut put an end to this nagging problem. It would be so easy. Aariam reeled back, quickly letting go of her weapon, the dark thoughts being replaced with immense shame and guilt. No, it’s not right. Justice needs to be done. She nodded to herself and leaned onto her table, closing both eyes. Justice.
Aariam Nightborne, former Keeper of Nature's Grasp.
Avatar drawn by Calisar.

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Re: Justice

Post by Soriah » Sun Feb 08, 2015 8:49 pm

Loved this. <3 Lovely language used. Glad to hear that Aariam is somewhat happier nowadays. :)
[i]"Surely it does not matter whether or not I believe, when my real concern is... does Elune believe in me?" - Soriah Shadowfury[/i]

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Re: Justice

Post by Calisar » Mon Feb 16, 2015 12:56 pm

Been meaning to comment on this one for a while! Loved it, can imagine the tea cup creaking in her hand. Write more *pokes* it's really good!
"It's silly wrong.. but vivid right"

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