Walking...
Moderators: Former Council, Seniors, The Council
- Calisar
- Posts: 2386
- Joined: Tue Jun 05, 2007 11:22 am
- Character: Calisar
- Realm: Defias Brotherhood
- Class: Priest + Druid
- Location: Sleepy shires of England
Re: Walking...
Not much at all happens in this snippet, just a ramble! ^^
One day... I'm going to have to clear this damn place out. Cal tilted her head to one side as she stepped carefully through the cramped gloom of the vault.
It was a comfortable space, holding almost everything she held of value. Dusty tomes were stacked untidily in leaning towers against the far wall, a few wooden chests of rare dried herbs and fat gold coins rested on high shelves. Inky vials and dusty bottles were scattered around everywhere, potions and relics kept for emergencies or sentiment.
There was a still, warm quietude here, and more than once had she simply curled up and slept amongst her belongings midway through trying to enforce a little order to the rampant chaos.
A broad tapestry hung across the right hand wall, lit now by the flickering torch she'd secured carefully in its bracket by the door. An old heirloom that dominated the limited space, stitched piece by piece in turn by past generations of her family. In places the thread-work was fresh, vibrant and deeply coloured, in others it seemed as whisper-thin and fragile as dry parchment. It depicted a tree, endless branches and roots plaiting and weaving together, scattered with names. Some she knew well, and many she had heard of only in stories.
Her eyes rested briefly on one name stitched close to her own, Aelvar Ravencrest. Her fingertip brushing hesitantly over the small, dark elegant letters.
This was a name she had thought of more and more recently, given her current path... and what would -you- think of all -this- hm? She furrowed her brow, hand hovering toward the tapestry, expression momentarily uncertain. The omen in the cup springing to mind as it often had lately.
She turned her back on the heavy stitchwork, hefting a couple of dusty crates aside to clear a section of the path, unearthing a half-drunk bottle of stranglethorn white label brandy in the process. A slow wistful smile crept back onto her features as she tilted the exotic liquor around, brushing the dust from the dark green glass, before placing it reverently aside. Hands on hips, she straightened, surveying the rambling mess afresh, eyes darting aimlessly around for the elusive item that had dragged her back here.
The entire left side of the vault was filled with a rail, packed tight with richly hued fabrics. Blues as dark as the ocean depths, bright azure beading on black velvets. A few decadent blood red silks. Tucked far back hung a demure white dress with silver embroidery, but the pale brightness was swamped, a lost sliver of purity squashed in amongst the other finer, darker fabrics.
Cal brushed a hand along the rail, over the shoulders of the garments, as a familiar pang of desire to dress in such luxury stirred. There was a time she would have worn nothing else but this frippery. She glanced down at herself and her practical leather armour, then back to the rail with a smirk of amusement.
She paused, feeling the collar of an old cloak, blue-black like her own hair, stitched around the neck with a pattern of overlapped wings, a tangle of intricate workmanship. Beautiful, expensive, well worn and much loved.
But her hand soon trailed onward... past all the silk and velvet, tracing over cloaks and gowns until resting at last upon a modest purple garment.
Pulling it free from the rail with a tug she held the old tabard up to the torchlight. The words of the initiation ceremony echoing softly in her ear.
I will not harm my brothers and sisters of the Order, and I will heed the word of my Keeper and the Council.
She rubbed the fabric thoughtfully between her hands, pausing to trace a fingertip along the seam of the black edging.
I swear this upon the crest of the Order
It was patched and torn in places, restitched and mended, frayed some along the bottom edge. Aariam had suggested she could get a new one if she preferred but the idea had rankled instantly.
No, this one would do well enough.
Cal sat back on the creaking crates, cross-legged, cradling the tabard in her hands as she studied the insignia. Recalling the ceremony, how it felt to kneel before the others and recite the words of allegiance.
The White Tree; Teldrassil, and our capital Darnassus
The Purple fields; our forests, our people, and our lands
The Black lines; representing the losses we have suffered
Had there been nerves, any hesitancy?
None at all, as it turned out.
One thing was for sure, in all the scenarios she had pictured for officially rejoining the fold, the Keeper had certainly been wearing more clothes.
She cracked a genuine grin, pulling the tabard over her head with a pop of stretched fabric and yanking the colours down in a swift familiar motion. But then, Aariam had always been lousy at dice. Of all the times for her to fulfil a gambling forfeit though, why did it have to be at the initiations?
Reaching over for the precious brandy, Cal pulled the cork free, lifting the bottle to her lips. Hesitating only to smile privately at the warm flush of sentimentality wearing the purple gave her.
"Tssk, soppy bastard", she scolded herself over the brim of the bottleneck, taking just one sip in solemn toast before replacing the cork. Leaning back against the wall with a low contented chuckle. Somewhere around here, if she carried on digging, she was sure had a set of lucky dice.
One day... I'm going to have to clear this damn place out. Cal tilted her head to one side as she stepped carefully through the cramped gloom of the vault.
It was a comfortable space, holding almost everything she held of value. Dusty tomes were stacked untidily in leaning towers against the far wall, a few wooden chests of rare dried herbs and fat gold coins rested on high shelves. Inky vials and dusty bottles were scattered around everywhere, potions and relics kept for emergencies or sentiment.
There was a still, warm quietude here, and more than once had she simply curled up and slept amongst her belongings midway through trying to enforce a little order to the rampant chaos.
A broad tapestry hung across the right hand wall, lit now by the flickering torch she'd secured carefully in its bracket by the door. An old heirloom that dominated the limited space, stitched piece by piece in turn by past generations of her family. In places the thread-work was fresh, vibrant and deeply coloured, in others it seemed as whisper-thin and fragile as dry parchment. It depicted a tree, endless branches and roots plaiting and weaving together, scattered with names. Some she knew well, and many she had heard of only in stories.
Her eyes rested briefly on one name stitched close to her own, Aelvar Ravencrest. Her fingertip brushing hesitantly over the small, dark elegant letters.
This was a name she had thought of more and more recently, given her current path... and what would -you- think of all -this- hm? She furrowed her brow, hand hovering toward the tapestry, expression momentarily uncertain. The omen in the cup springing to mind as it often had lately.
She turned her back on the heavy stitchwork, hefting a couple of dusty crates aside to clear a section of the path, unearthing a half-drunk bottle of stranglethorn white label brandy in the process. A slow wistful smile crept back onto her features as she tilted the exotic liquor around, brushing the dust from the dark green glass, before placing it reverently aside. Hands on hips, she straightened, surveying the rambling mess afresh, eyes darting aimlessly around for the elusive item that had dragged her back here.
The entire left side of the vault was filled with a rail, packed tight with richly hued fabrics. Blues as dark as the ocean depths, bright azure beading on black velvets. A few decadent blood red silks. Tucked far back hung a demure white dress with silver embroidery, but the pale brightness was swamped, a lost sliver of purity squashed in amongst the other finer, darker fabrics.
Cal brushed a hand along the rail, over the shoulders of the garments, as a familiar pang of desire to dress in such luxury stirred. There was a time she would have worn nothing else but this frippery. She glanced down at herself and her practical leather armour, then back to the rail with a smirk of amusement.
She paused, feeling the collar of an old cloak, blue-black like her own hair, stitched around the neck with a pattern of overlapped wings, a tangle of intricate workmanship. Beautiful, expensive, well worn and much loved.
But her hand soon trailed onward... past all the silk and velvet, tracing over cloaks and gowns until resting at last upon a modest purple garment.
Pulling it free from the rail with a tug she held the old tabard up to the torchlight. The words of the initiation ceremony echoing softly in her ear.
I will not harm my brothers and sisters of the Order, and I will heed the word of my Keeper and the Council.
She rubbed the fabric thoughtfully between her hands, pausing to trace a fingertip along the seam of the black edging.
I swear this upon the crest of the Order
It was patched and torn in places, restitched and mended, frayed some along the bottom edge. Aariam had suggested she could get a new one if she preferred but the idea had rankled instantly.
No, this one would do well enough.
Cal sat back on the creaking crates, cross-legged, cradling the tabard in her hands as she studied the insignia. Recalling the ceremony, how it felt to kneel before the others and recite the words of allegiance.
The White Tree; Teldrassil, and our capital Darnassus
The Purple fields; our forests, our people, and our lands
The Black lines; representing the losses we have suffered
Had there been nerves, any hesitancy?
None at all, as it turned out.
One thing was for sure, in all the scenarios she had pictured for officially rejoining the fold, the Keeper had certainly been wearing more clothes.
She cracked a genuine grin, pulling the tabard over her head with a pop of stretched fabric and yanking the colours down in a swift familiar motion. But then, Aariam had always been lousy at dice. Of all the times for her to fulfil a gambling forfeit though, why did it have to be at the initiations?
Reaching over for the precious brandy, Cal pulled the cork free, lifting the bottle to her lips. Hesitating only to smile privately at the warm flush of sentimentality wearing the purple gave her.
"Tssk, soppy bastard", she scolded herself over the brim of the bottleneck, taking just one sip in solemn toast before replacing the cork. Leaning back against the wall with a low contented chuckle. Somewhere around here, if she carried on digging, she was sure had a set of lucky dice.
"It's silly wrong.. but vivid right"
- Aariam
- Site Admin
- Posts: 2982
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2009 7:45 pm
- Character: Aariam
- Realm: Argent Dawn
- Class: Rogue
- Location: Stockholm, Sweden
- Contact:
Re: Walking...
Tsk, we can't let all those dresses go to waste-... Aariam will help use them!
Goddess knows she could use one right now...
Goddess knows she could use one right now...

Aariam Nightborne, former Keeper of Nature's Grasp.
Avatar drawn by Calisar.
Site/web administrator - any questions about either can be sent to me in a PM.
Avatar drawn by Calisar.
Site/web administrator - any questions about either can be sent to me in a PM.
- Salirien
- Councillor
- Posts: 166
- Joined: Tue Jun 17, 2014 12:23 am
- Character: Salirien
- Realm: Argent Dawn
- Class: Priestess
- Location: Norwegian fjord
Re: Walking...
Sali would pay a FORTUNE to see Calisar wear that, I think! Perhaps if she got horribly drunk?Calisar wrote: Tucked far back hung a demure white dress with silver embroidery, but the pale brightness was swamped, a lost sliver of purity squashed in amongst the other finer, darker fabrics.

Lovely read as always! You write with such a deep understanding of your own character, I am absolutely in awe of your talent (and jealous, don't tell anyone). Such a clever writer, such wonderful stories! ^^
[i]"Shine your light on us, Mother, for the day has grown long, and we are lost."[/i]
- Calisar
- Posts: 2386
- Joined: Tue Jun 05, 2007 11:22 am
- Character: Calisar
- Realm: Defias Brotherhood
- Class: Priest + Druid
- Location: Sleepy shires of England
Re: Walking...
That would have to be a catastrophic loss with the dice, and even then there'd be hell to paySalirien wrote:Sali would pay a FORTUNE to see Calisar wear that, I think! Perhaps if she got horribly drunk?![]()

"It's silly wrong.. but vivid right"
- Eluvere
- Posts: 186
- Joined: Mon Jun 25, 2012 2:43 am
- Character: Elu
- Realm: Argent Dawn
- Class: Druidess
Re: Walking...
Interesting to get a behind the scenes view of Calisar with these stories Cal, and splendidly written as always
Your character really has come down a long way, and I never quite imagined the old ambassador to return to us this way!

- Calisar
- Posts: 2386
- Joined: Tue Jun 05, 2007 11:22 am
- Character: Calisar
- Realm: Defias Brotherhood
- Class: Priest + Druid
- Location: Sleepy shires of England
Re: Walking...
Was tempted to post this in the art thread, but mjeah
(and thanks for the kind feedback, always encouraging to write more!)
For those that were wondering what she saw in that cup:


For those that were wondering what she saw in that cup:

"It's silly wrong.. but vivid right"
- Aariam
- Site Admin
- Posts: 2982
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2009 7:45 pm
- Character: Aariam
- Realm: Argent Dawn
- Class: Rogue
- Location: Stockholm, Sweden
- Contact:
Re: Walking...
Ooh, I love those shoulderpads... Wish we could have them for the guild. 

Aariam Nightborne, former Keeper of Nature's Grasp.
Avatar drawn by Calisar.
Site/web administrator - any questions about either can be sent to me in a PM.
Avatar drawn by Calisar.
Site/web administrator - any questions about either can be sent to me in a PM.
- Anhagath
- Posts: 159
- Joined: Sat Jan 04, 2014 1:33 am
- Character: Anhagath
- Realm: Defias Brotherhood
- Class: Mage
Re: Walking...
*SCREAMS* THAT BEAR
That is the best bear, I love the idea.
(Also Aariam I'm pretty sure the guild shirts are like those?)
That is the best bear, I love the idea.
(Also Aariam I'm pretty sure the guild shirts are like those?)
[center][i]"My favorite color is [color=#FF8000]fire[/color]."[/i][/center]
- Salirien
- Councillor
- Posts: 166
- Joined: Tue Jun 17, 2014 12:23 am
- Character: Salirien
- Realm: Argent Dawn
- Class: Priestess
- Location: Norwegian fjord
Re: Walking...
Absolutely fantastic, Calisar. That bear looks like it means business, too!
And as I told you ingame, LOVE that the steam from the cup resembles void tendrils. Maybe that's why the bear watches so scornfully?
And as I told you ingame, LOVE that the steam from the cup resembles void tendrils. Maybe that's why the bear watches so scornfully?

[i]"Shine your light on us, Mother, for the day has grown long, and we are lost."[/i]
- Aariam
- Site Admin
- Posts: 2982
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2009 7:45 pm
- Character: Aariam
- Realm: Argent Dawn
- Class: Rogue
- Location: Stockholm, Sweden
- Contact:
Re: Walking...
Cal putting her new skills to the test! Well, don't keep us in suspense, give us the next part now, now, now! 

Aariam Nightborne, former Keeper of Nature's Grasp.
Avatar drawn by Calisar.
Site/web administrator - any questions about either can be sent to me in a PM.
Avatar drawn by Calisar.
Site/web administrator - any questions about either can be sent to me in a PM.