| rdfs:comment
| - Lucia hated the city. The clogged streets, the scent of sewage and the fast paced community of strangers combined into something just short of loathing. But she found herself in Stormwind because of a rumor that first tickled her ears many months ago. At first, she listened to them with only half an ear. That is, until she heard the name of the captive. Her normally flushed cheeks turned a ghostly shade of white. It was time for her to call in some favors. Upon hearing that the Forsaken was to be awoken soon, whatever that meant, she knew that she did not have much time. She gathered what she needed and headed to the capital. Part of her was relieved that an explanation had been provided for her rogues long absence. She flushed slightly at her selfishness, but in the still of night her t
|
| abstract
| - Lucia hated the city. The clogged streets, the scent of sewage and the fast paced community of strangers combined into something just short of loathing. But she found herself in Stormwind because of a rumor that first tickled her ears many months ago. At first, she listened to them with only half an ear. That is, until she heard the name of the captive. Her normally flushed cheeks turned a ghostly shade of white. It was time for her to call in some favors. Upon hearing that the Forsaken was to be awoken soon, whatever that meant, she knew that she did not have much time. She gathered what she needed and headed to the capital. Part of her was relieved that an explanation had been provided for her rogues long absence. She flushed slightly at her selfishness, but in the still of night her thoughts often traveled to her rogue. She often wondered where he was; what he was doing. The gift of gold had been so very long ago that she often wondered if he had totally forgotten or abandoned her. Knowing that he was a prisoner of her people was both infuriating and satisfying. He had not contacted her because he was unable; not because he was unwilling. Her first stop in the teeming city was the great Cathedral where she greeted her cousin warmly before asking him a simple question. He gaped at her. You cant possibly be serious Lucy! he exclaimed. She was relentless and called up the past that her cousin had been trying his whole life to bury. Her cousin glared at her. You risk much, cousin, he snapped at her. She looked up at him, silently cursing his tremendous height advantage, and planted her hands on her hips. She was the image of an immovable woman. With an exasperated sigh he relented. Make sure that this thing is worth it. She nodded as he threw what she wanted at her. She complied with a slight courtesy when he demanded that she leave. She did not hear his muffled curse upon her. She did not see him bend to write another document. She did not see his vindictive smile as he sealed the parchment with the Seal of Light. With the document on her person, she descended into the bowels of the Stockades. The cold walls seemed to press in on her. The dank smell, the horrid lighting and the mood of the dungeon reminded her of her journey so may years ago into a different dark place. Her eyes narrowed in determination and her fists clenched in resolve. She would do this. Her march took her to the door that she sought and with a quick breath to steel herself, she went in. Kopfjagger was speaking to a Paladin and was whipped across the face for his answer. Shocked at the cruelty of her own people, Lucia flinched. Quietly she lifted the cowl of her cape to hide her face in shadow and she slowly made her way to a dark corner. She kept her eyes down and her demeanor meek as she made her way unobtrusively to the far corner. She did not want to be noticed yet. She wanted to see what had kept her rogue from her for so long and to learn the why of it all. The questions came and the answers followed. Long did her rogue speak of the vengeance of his people. Other questions followed about how the Forsaken taste, smell; if they bleed; if they dream. Countless questions and yet he answered every one of them. Hours it seemed he answered them. Her rogue even asked a few questions himself. Monster he claimed to be. Monster he portrayed to them. The elixier was placed in his hands and Lucia gasped. Questions raced through her mind but repeating, and growing more urgent with each passage was the question of whether or not he would drink. And then he asked simply: Why? His hands now unchained, Lucia knew what she had to do. He had painted too vivid the portrait of the monster he could be. But her rogue failed to show them the other side of his heart. She, however, knew better. Now was the time that they saw her rogue in his entirety. She lowered her cowl and slowly walked the few paces that separated her from her rogue. She was standing right in front of him when she asked her question. She knew he would answer truthfully but with reluctance. Forsaken, you claim the undead hate the living. You state that they enjoy feasting upon their flesh and destroying their hope. While this is truth, you speak only half of it. If the undead are so focused solely on destroying us, they how can you be so kind to us as well? How can you claim to hate all living why you aid one at the risk of our own existence? She waited for him to reply, bracing herself for his flippancy, but aware that he would be starkly honest as well. Her eyes never left his. A part of her seemed to be at home looking into those glowing eyes. The rest of her was not sure if those eyes held anything but contempt any longer. Much had changed and a great deal of time had passed. She bit her lip in concern but her gaze was steady. ((This part of the story was written in partnership by Kopfjagger and Lucia. I have the honor of retelling it but at least half, if not more, of the creative power comes directly from Lucia even though her name does not appear to the left of the post. *bows deeply to Lucia* Thank you, Lucia, for letting me retell our story, I hope to do it justice.))
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)