Catch a Spider: The Death of Ilanna Stormrunner

[Sunshine]

Catch a Spider

A story concerning Miss Ilanna Stormrunner: wanted criminal, former operative of SI:7, and Wildfire Rider.

Coming soon.

EDIT:

Catch a Spider is now under production.

It's worth noting that this story has its roots in the events in which Mr. Maunt Ruined Lives, which happened last summer. Fallout posts from that affair are littered all over this forum; of special significance to Ilanna's end of it are Regret and Chat Log: Crystal Lake.

[Sunshine]

Appearing Characters:

Safira Irien Moonwind - Huntress, Priestess, Adoptive Sister; Wildfire Rider. (Borrowed PC)
Ilarra Stormrunner - Priestess, Twin Sister, Wrath of Elune; Wildfire Rider. (PC)
Chryste Kaleigh - Warrior, Love Interest, Blinding Fury; Wildfire Rider. (Borrowed PC)
Danothan Gentrick - Operative of SI:7. (NPC)
Elicia Finen - Opera Star. (NPC)
Immy the Knife - Hired Thug. (NPC)
Rahna - Draenei Warrior, Quite Batshit; Rose. (Borrowed PC)
Magdalena Maunt - Necromancer, Collector of Dolls, Evil Bitch; Cultist of the Damned. (Borrowed NPC)
Elyle Jh'Talith - Assassin, Thug, Eventual Brother in Law; Wildfire Rider. (Borrowed PC)

And especially:

***Ilanna Stormrunner*** - Criminal, Murderess, Protagonist; Wildfire Rider. (PC)

[Tarq]

Really looking forward to OH GOD SPIDER!!!!!

[itanyablade]

One should not break raids while talking about spiders!

[Sunshine]

/\/\(';, ,;')/\/\

[Sunshine]

This is a story. It is meant for entertainment, nothing more, but its significance to certain of the characters within it is of such an extent that it must be handled with precision; it is fragile. As such, it will be told very carefully and probably quite slowly. Sadly, this is entirely unavoidable.

In the telling of certain stories, sometimes the best place to start is at the end.
---

Some time from now:

Five minutes until midnight. In a graveyard on the edges of Darkshire, deep in the shadows and the spider webs of Duskwood's permanent gloom, a new grave has been recently dug. The headstone is simple and undecorated save by certain names and words, but, like the graveyard, it is special. It is here, far from the shining lights and busy cobbled streets of its capital, far from its citizens and far out of sight, that the Kingdom of Stormwind buries those men and those women it deems the most dangerous: the murderers, the spies of other nations, and the treasonous. The executed. The owner of the name on the most recent headstone is one such woman. Or was, until yesterday.

There had been no public trial. There had been no public admittance to the execution. There had been no public notice of any kind until after the fact, with a few well-placed lines in a special Tuesday edition of the Stormwind Daily Press.

'Though she eluded the noble efforts of the Stormwind Guard and cooperating foreign agencies for many months, the infamous Spiderweb Killer has finally been captured and brought to justice...'


The grave stood cold, silent beneath the bare and mounded earth. No flowers had been permitted to be left behind; no gifts of any kind for the dishonored dead. Even now, hours after the grave had been filled, a pair of guards stood watchful of resurrection attempts by the few remaining visitors; there were three of them, all female, each one with the look of a killer about her. Each one with an unsavory reputation of her own, but that part was unavoidable; Wildfire Riders all had such reputations.

The first woman was tall, but not too tall. For a night elf, she was actually slightly below average height. Her skin was silver, her hair was the palest white pulled back in a ponytail, and her eyes were much dimmer than they ought to have been. Her left ear was pierced and threaded with a silver chain, at the end of which dangled a plain black feather. She was crying as she stared at the grave.

The second woman stood arm-in-arm with the first, crying quietly herself into a black silk handkerchief. She too was a night elf, taller and slenderer than the first, with fewer curves and longer legs and weaker muscles. Her skin, where it was visible beneath her long robes, was a pale blue, and scarred. Her hair was blue also, dark like a black light on water, short and ragged. Half-moon wire spectacles balanced precariously on her nose, and other moon symbols, the large silver crescent hanging from her neck and other, smaller crescents dangling down from her too-pierced ears, advertised clearly what her faith was. Though she and the first woman looked very little alike, they nevertheless gave the appearance of being sisters.

The third woman stood slightly apart from the other two. She was beautiful, human, and infinitely intimidating, from her black and red armor to the huge two-handed sword across her back. She stood with her head bowed, silent and motionless, arms crossed in front of her chest. Her bangs, dyed the same shades of black and crimson as her armor, hung limp in front of her face, hiding her expression and her tears. The spiked choker around her neck shone dimly in the muted Duskwood moonlight.

Midnight. The bells in the tower of Darkshire Chapel started tolling, deep and ominous as they echoed out over the forest. Ilarra wailed and fell to her knees, clutching the silk handkerchief to her face with both hands.

Zoom in to the words on the tombstone.

'Ilanna Stormrunner
Murderess
Executed by law in the year 27 A.D.P.'

[Sunshine]

Sometimes, the best place to start is before the beginning...
---

Once upon a time, Ilalra Stormrunner had no official rank or position within SI:7. She held no title; she was not a part of any Finger. She was certainly not a Thumb. When they needed her they simply called her Blue, or #12227, or, for a rare few, Ilanna. She existed out of hierarchy, off of most records, and invisible in most people's minds. She was nothing but an experiment, the first kaldorei ever in the Service; Mathias Shaw had been interested to see how useful she might be. He had wondered how she might turn out. Most times, she turned out perfectly.

Most times.


"Her name is Elicia Finen. Shaw wants you to kill her."

A human man and a night elf woman stood at odds across a heavy oak desk. The woman was tall, knife thin, and beautiful; the man was short, ruggedly handsome, and unshaven. His name was Danothan Gentrick. He was a complete jerk, and Ilanna hated his guts. She saluted politely. "Done. When, where, and how? And how come I have to take orders from you?"

An amused look from the man; a slimy smile that made Ilanna want to strangle him. "You take orders from whoever Shaw says you do. Ain't that beautiful?"

"Not always."

"Aren't you gonna ask me 'Why,' too?"

"Why I take orders from Shaw? I know that already."

"No. Why Elicia Finen has to die."

"...Why the hell would I care about that?"

~


When: Slightly more than one year ago.
Where: Stormwind City.
How:

It happened at night in the Stormwind Opera House. Not deep night, not silence, but early night, when the lights in the city all blazed with bright life. Even the canals were afire from reflections of street lamps. It was also a cold night, thought, right at the very end of autumn, and a bitter frozen wind had driven the city's inhabitants indoors. The wind seemed to herald things to come, dark things, unpleasant things. Or maybe it simply heralded more wind.

More wind came. The torch in the hand of the guard on the roof of the blocky ornate Stormwind Opera House went dark with a puff of smoke. A shadow moved across the roof; the guard started to scream but went quiet as the hilt of a dagger slammed hard at his temple.

Silence as the door in the roof was propped open. More silence, more dark, as it closed. Shadows don't leave traces of their presence, excepting sometimes blood.

The shadow descended a set of wood stairs. Far below, in the stomach of the opera house, an angel sang. The shadow went deeper; the singing became closer and easier to hear. The shadow went deeper.

Hours passed. The girl who sounded like an angel sang several more songs. Watching, invisible from a dark corner near the stage, the shadow fell quietly in love with her voice. Eventually, out of songs, the angel bowed; the audience roared its approval, then left. The staff left too. The lights went off. Nervously pacing, the angel stayed onstage. A man in a tuxedo walked out of the wings to join her. She ran to hug him. The shadow watched in silence as they met.

"Hey, Miss F, ya okay, gorgeous?" asked the man. His accent reeked of Old Town Stormwind; his cigar smoke reeked of lotus. The angel girl shook her head, eyes wide.

"No, Immy, I'm not. I don't understand why I have to wait here." The angel was obviously frightened. Creeping closer in the dark, the shadow frowned. Seen up close, with her lily white skin and her ruby red lips, her dreamy grey eyes and her perfect black hair in long waves, the angel even looked like an angel. Killing her would be a terrible shame.

The man called Immy smiled down at the angel. "Well, Miss F, dat'd be 'cause ya daddy wants ya to. He's got a plan, yeh?"

The angel pouted. "That's not a why!"

Immy sighed, running a beringed hand through his short yellow hair.

"Okay, I'll give ya a why, then. 'Why' is so we can catch us a rat for 'im. You're like bait, y'know? Cheese."

The angel blinked, looked confused, then looked frightened again. "I don't want to be bait!"

"It's okay, Miss F! Rats never reach the cheese, remember? That's only with the crummy traps, and ours is a good one." Danny gave the angel an enthusiastic smile. Several of his teeth were missing.

"Prove it's a good one, then," retorted the angel, back to pouting.

"Well that's easy..." And as quick as the wink that he gave, Immy's smile turned evil. He turned to face the endless rows of empty seats; he sketched a bow, said, "Ya see, Miss F, it's a very good trap 'cause it's already worked," then called out to the dark. "Will the agent from SI:7 please come out and join us?"

The shadow moved, not fast enough. Torches flared to life, armed thugs stepped into view at the exits to the room, and the man named Immy looked right at the shadow as, desperate, she searched for a place to hide from the glaring torchlight. Ilanna froze, looked back, and sighed. Immy smiled.

"See, Miss F? It's a perfectly good trap."

[Sunshine]

...Or sometimes, just barely before...
---

The Wildfire Riders' public buzzbox line is normally mostly deafening, especially during the day, impossible to follow with sometimes as many as a dozen different conversations being held all at once. Two months ago, one voice cuts in through the others in greeting, very soft:

"Hi."

The second voice is softer still, tight with permanent strain. It sounds like a clarinet note drawn harsh across sharp barbed wire, but it's warm.

"Chrystal."

"Lanna, are you okay? Where are you?"

"Ambry. Light, look, I know I SOUND like that other girl, but I ain't."

"...Oh, right. Sorry, Miss Nightbreeze."

The other chatter resumes; the two voices are swallowed.



Immediately after, on a pair of personal buzzbox lines owned by Chryste Kaleigh and Ilanna Stormrunner:

"...M'Chrystal?"

"Ila? Where are you?"

"I'm in Karazhan with my sis. Look, I--"

"Mmm?"

A pause, then very softly, "I adore you. You're my world; you're all that keeps me still and peaceful when I ought to be screaming. I love you. ...Just wanted to say."

"I..I was about to say something similar. We should talk soon, there's um... Things I want to say..."

"..Everything okay?"

"I had some nightmares again, I'm sorry I haven't told you what they're about. I will though, I just... Well, yes, everything, I hope is alright."

"I'm worried now, my love."

"Heh, there's no one else or anything like that, I just... Words, I have words to speak, and I hope you receive them well."

"Just so long as it's not... y'know.. asking me to leave your side, I would do anything for you."

"I never want you to leave my side. Well..." A panicked whimper cuts in from the second voice; the first voice smirks. "Unless it's to get me a cup of tea."

The first voice chuckles lightly. The second lets out a soft sigh.

"I'll get you a dozen."

Apologetically, "Sorry to frighten you..."

"Never be sorry to me, my love. Even breaking my bones and my heart, were you to, you'd still make me happier than if you weren't there."

A short, smiling pause. Then it changes; the first voice sounds suddenly nervous.

"I wanna have this talk..."

"Are you gonna be home tonight, then?"

"Yes, I can be!"



Later: Night; Chryste Kaleigh's home in Nagrand, inside. Chryste lies asleep on the couch in the living room, dressed in very, very little. She shivers as the front door opens. Entering behind it, Ilanna Stormrunner spends a long moment transfixed by the sight of her lover. There's probably some extremely dramatic lighting; there ought to be romantic orchestral music in the background. Brushing tears from her eyes, Ilanna crosses to the couch. Chryste moans as the night elf takes her into her arms. Placing a gentle, worshiping kiss on Chryste's cheek, Ilanna strokes her hair and whispers to wake her.

"Love?"

"Ila... You made it..."

The sound of a kiss.

"I'm sorry I took so long."

"You came, is all that matters. I... I was going to surprise you with the outfit... Heh... Whoops."

"'S not a surprise how gorgeous you are, darlin. Just a continually renewing delight."

Blushing doesn't make a sound, but it ought to. "So long as you think so, I'm eternally happy. I uh... We had things to talk...? How are you?"

"I'm wonderful, now... near perfect, in bliss in your company. Oh. Uh, and I've got somethin for you."

"You do?"

"'S not a lot. Just, somethin' my sis did gave me an idea." A rustle as a long, thin wooden box is produced. "'S... magic-like. Enchanted and stuff, supposed to be real useful. But uh, has practical uses that yer.. 's entirely up to you how you should apply those..."

"Oh?" The sound of a box being opened... "...I love you."

"And you've got my whole heart and my soul in your pocket, my Chrystal." A kiss. "...Now, that's meant as honest for its purpose, but..." Slyly, "You're welcome to whatever else use you can think of..."

"..."

"Love? Chryssy?"

"I... th-..the something I wanted to speak about..."

"...Tell me?"

"I..I just... to talk...."

"Y'look nervous though."

"I... Uh... Am..."

"Please..? Please don't be scared of me?"

A long pause. "I... nev-... Never really believed in big gatherings to celebrate intimately special moments... I... just..." A frightened whimper. "A-..are we going to be together forever, you think? I... I pray and hope..."

"...You'd want me for that long, my love?"

"I can't think of anyone else I'd want even a fraction as much..." Another long pause; mountains could crumble in the length of that pause. "I... I was... I want you... to... to be..."

"..."

"..R..right now... Will you be... my wife?"

"...."

"N..no one has to know, for a while... J..just us... We love each other, a..and... Forever?"

"....."

"You don't have to say yes... I..I understand, b..but I will always be ready..."

"......"

"If you'd like to wait, I can wait... So long as we're together..."

"......."



Later:

"I've scared you... I'm sorry, my love..."

"I'm scared for you."

"Don't be scared for me... I won't leave you, nothing will take me away."

"But... I couldn't bear to see you harmed..."

"Would you feel safer if we were not wife and wife, and just together all the same?"

"I.. I don't kn-.." A whimper, then a sudden flood of quiet tears. Then, eventually, "I want to..."



Much later:

"I memorized your family crest the other day."

"'S... what, really? Where'd ya find it?"

"It was on record at the Temple of the Moon... Was thinking maybe you'd like a tattoo of it?"

"I dunno. What, I too bare for ya, normally?"

"You're perfect... You always adore mine so much though, was unsure if you wanted one or not."

"I'd do anything for you..."

"Even be my wife?" A giggle.

"..."

"...It doesn't have to be official, you know? Other people don't even have to know - but doesn't it just sound good in your mind...?"



Later still:

Sleepily, "...Chryssy..?"

"I'm here, 'Lanna."

A peaceful, silent moment, interrupted abruptly by someone rolling over in a bed.

"Light, you're beautiful."

"You're moreso. How are you feeling?"

"Nice and sleepy..." More silence, tinged with tension, then, "I love you."

"I love you too, Ilanna. There's nothing in my life more important than you and Jacob."

"Nor you in mine. I-- I don't have... don't want anything else than you..." A strangled sob.

"Shh, easy, love... I'm sorry that I brought the marriage thing to you so suddenly, and even more sorry that I spoke words of hiding it. I was just afraid that others may cause trouble if it came to light, saying it was too soon, or we were being stupid... Talk to me...?"

"..."

"Please? I'll bring you home a draenic girl..."

"You're the only girl I want..." A soft giggle. "I love you."

"I love you too, 'Lanna."

"Mm..." A quiet kiss. "...So... Married, huh?"

One hell of a long silence.

"...'Larra was talking to me tonight. I helped keep her and Tarquin alive at the Shattered Halls... She said old kaldorei marriage was more of a personal bond than it was some big glorified spectacle like the Light makes it."

"It's... once upon, yeh. Me and.. a man named Teltheril were married, once, far ago. It was different then, though. Hell, wasn't even a word for a husband or wife, really, just, 'mine.' But... well, that was long ago."

"Well," And the longest pause ever, "...Fuck the overdone, technical human side of things - I'm not even considered a full one myself. 'Lanna, will you be 'mine'?"

"..."

"If you wish, in time, we could go to the Cathedral, or a holy place of any sort, and have a full-blown wedding. I... I just want to feel secure that I'll always wake up and know you're there."

"...I'm terrified, Chryste. I'm frightened from my wits. I've lost everybody I've ever been romantic with, mostly painfully. ...Very first person I loved, first time I tried marriage, I had to watch him burn to death... And... I love you, I love you more than anyth-"

"You've not lost me yet. And you're not going to."

"-Than anything else. Ever. And the idea of letting myself get too close, ruining it again, losing you..." Crying.

"...Um, Ilanna?"

"...Mm..?"

"If we haven't passed 'too close' yet? We're never going to, you realize that? There's no closer for us to go; we're already there."

"..."

"Would you like to wait on it..? I could wait for you until the end of my days, and if we still act like we do now come then? I'll have never regretted a moment with you, married or not."

A deep breath. "No. No, shut up a minute. 'Kay?" A pause. "...I love you. Right now? Right now I wanna be with you forever. As I do not see that changing... How 'bout getting engaged, for now?"

"..."



And lastly:

"Chryssy? Don't leave me? Promise you won't?"

"I'll promise with as much sincerity as you'll promise, love... So never plan on me leaving."

[Sunshine]

((Before anyone asks, the thing in the box was a riding crop.))

[Chrystal Kaleigh]

*smack smack smack smack smack smack... you get the point.*

[Sunshine]

...Mostly, the best place to start is at the start.
---

2/27 21:44:04.750 Chryste says: ..Hi...
2/27 21:45:09.792 Chryste says: Um... W..Wasn't quite three years ago, I was a bit - well, lost, and not in control of my life.
2/27 21:46:28.613 Chryste says: Was sent on an errand by my 'boss' at the time, into the Kraul out in the Barrens. Along the way, met a pair of men, Nikolai and Hal Merlot.
2/27 21:47:32.684 Chryste says: Long story short, befriended them, was taken back here to the Eastern Kingdoms, and introduced to a batch of really wonderful folks, at the time known as the Greymane Exiles.
2/27 21:48:49.118 Chryste says: I wasn't the most tame person to try and get along with, always in and out of trouble, losing myself and... Long story short again, these people really helped me...
2/27 21:49:19.368 Chryste says: Gave me back my own life, taught me to think for myself again, and opened all sorts of paths for me to become a great mother to my son, Jacob.
2/27 21:50:18.724 Chryste says: Along that path, from the transition between the Exiles and who we've become now; this amazing family of ours, and the friends we all share - I met Ilanna here.
2/27 21:52:22.816 Chryste says: She really came in to become an important part of my life. She's probably the only person near as maniacal as I am, and sometimes worse.
2/27 21:53:30.045 Chryste says: Well... I don't know some of you as well as I would like to - and I know some of you may not know me as well as you might hope; or are glad not to.
2/27 21:54:35.864 Chryste says: I thought tonight to be a good moment to share this though, as it's an important part of my life, on an important night in my life.
2/27 21:54:58.326 Chryste says: I just, uh...
2/27 21:55:03.217 Chryste blinks and rolls her eyes.
2/27 21:55:12.461 Chryste says: Oh, hells... we're getting married!
2/27 21:56:17.368 Chryste grins, blushing brightly.

[Sunshine]

There's this dream, and it haunts her. Goes like this:

The girl with blue hair stands in Elwynn, in front of a crystal clear lake. It's night, and it's hot, and the summer insects buzz above the water, in the trees. Sweat streaks the girl's neck, beads her ears, trails down the tattoos on her cheeks; she doesn't notice. Her eyes are wide and dull, vacant silver as she stares at the two women between her and the lake. Her stance is loose, easy; coiled up like the spring in a predator cat's spine.

The two women between the girl with blue hair and the lake are a draenei and an old human crone. The draenei is scarred, huge and armored, deranged; the crone is... grandmotherly. Small, smiling sweetly, her round face home to a pair of owlishly huge glasses , she has the look of the lady who bakes cookies for her grandkids and tells them stories before bed. The evil in her eyes makes it clear that the cookies are poison, probably seasoned with human souls.

Wasn't like that... fuck I hate this dream. She didn't look like her at all, she looked like him. Sneaky bitch.

The crone and the girl with blue hair spend time talking. The crone calls her "sweetling;" the girl with blue hair pulls a black-glowing knife from the sleeve of her pale green dress. The thin fabric swirls around her long legs as she starts moving forward.

Fuck fuck fuck. 'S gonna do the whole thing, innit? Why can't I ever wake up earl-

"You call me a villain?"

And where the bloody hell are El and 'Fira? They helped on this near as much as I did, but they're never in the dream. Ain't like I'm the only one responsible. Fucking guilty subcons-

"A villain is a woman who freely admits her evil; who's done terrible things and doesn't care if she's done more."

The scarred draenei moves to stand between the girl with blue hair and the crone; draws a sword, barks a threat. "Stay where you are! All of you!"

A pair of night elves appear to one side, transparent and ghostly atop huge armored cats. One wears a goofy red hat with a tassle; the other speaks to the scarred draenei. "Stand aside, child."

Hey, I made 'em show up! Sorta. Oughta try this more often. I wish the dream was happy, I wish the dream was happy, I wish the dream was h-

"If I were a good woman, Maunt, I would tell us to go away and leave us alone. Peacefully."

-appy. ...Hell. *Sigh.* ...'Least my speech was good.

"But I'm a villain, aren't I?"

The crone backs away into the shallows of the lake; the water blackens as it touches her. Fireflies flee from her presence.

"Rahna," the crone says, "Go. You have a daughter."

The scarred draenei raises her sword. "I have a duty."

The ghostly elf in the hat waves her hand at the girl with blue hair, eyes the draenei. "Ilanna, I've a trap that would keep her safe and out of any physical battle, if you wish..."

Just get on with it already.

The girl with blue hair gives the draenei a sad smile, then turns to the ghost in the hat.

GET ON WITH IT!

"Don't bother."

Purple smoke flashes up from the ground and the girl with blue hair disappears. Air rushes in to fill a suddenly vacant spot. There's a moment of quiet...

Blood splatters against water. The crone gasps, drops to her knees, as more blood pours from out of her back. Then she laughs, and it echoes like a thunderstorm.

No. No, wake up wake up wake up pleasepleaseplease wake up PLEASE-

7/17 01:27:55.042 Ilanna says: Move aside, draenei.
7/17 01:28:09.172 Rahna says: I am afraid I won't be doing that.
7/17 01:29:33.505 Ilanna eyes Rahna up and down.
7/17 01:29:36.486 Ilanna says: Not gonna move?
7/17 01:29:55.503 Rahna shakes her head at Ilanna.
7/17 01:30:05.513 Ilanna nods at Rahna understandingly.
7/17 01:30:10.084 Safira says: Ilanna, I've a trap that would keep her safe and out of any physical battle if you wish.
7/17 01:30:39.135 Rahna readies herself.
7/17 01:30:40.767 Elyle says: What's the fun in that? If the Rose wishes to cast her lot with a bastard....
7/17 01:30:45.806 Elyle says: Well, she chooses her own fate.
7/17 01:30:54.887 Rahna glares angrily.
7/17 01:30:41.245 Ilanna says: Don't bother.

<~BAMF~>

7/17 01:31:01.163 Maunt falls over.
7/17 01:31:08.809 Rahna says: DAMMIT!
7/17 01:31:16.032 Maunt yells: With my dying breath, I curse you all.

No. No, shut up, don't want to hear-

7/17 01:31:27.755 Ilanna yells: Fuck off!
7/17 01:31:42.252 Maunt yells: My blood on your hands, may your life and your love disappear into shadow.

7/17 01:32:17.323 Elyle says: Oh yes, how very dramatic. Doesn't even have the nerve to die a quiet death.
--

Darkness. Water and air rushing; the sensation of drowning. Panic, fear, quiet peace...

A soft scream. Ilanna wakes, buries her face against her pillow, and sobs.

[Sunshine]

Chryste was…

A killer, thought Ilanna, and her mind kept sticking back to it. Well, yes, but she’d already known that part; it was what had first caught her attention about her, those years ago. “Sweet dear gods! Look how she just tore that core hound apart!.” That had been the first time Ilanna Stormrunner saw her future girlfriend and fiancé: In the molten inner core of Blackrock Mountain, killing a burning core hound with her sword, her gauntleted hands, and once, Ilanna could have sworn, her teeth. That had been the first time they had met.

Well… not met, per se, not in those words which implied actually knowing each other. In a small army of forty different people, few of them the same from week to week, constantly under attack and in combat with the burning hellish denizens of an underground sanctum to an elemental god, there was a limited amount of time for socialization. But the two had been aware of each other, at least, even if in the vague terms of “that girl with the bigass bloody sword and those pants that leave her ass hanging out” and “that weird night elf who’s got those unsettling absent eyes and that high giggle.” They’d known of each other.

A killer, yes, that was Chryste. But she could join the bloody club; it was hardly as if being a killer was unique. That was their job, after all. Ilanna doubted if there was a single Wildfire Rider who hadn’t ever killed or helped kill. Well, maybe Fells. But Fells could be surprising, and Ilanna could easily imagine her using a knife on someone— on a small frog, perhaps, or a parakeet, or a member of the Stormwind Interior Designers’ Club. Which was to say, something small, harmless, and generally non-threatening. Something, in fact, very much like Fells herself. But Ilanna could still imagine it. So, yes, Chryste killed for a living, and efficiently, but so did Ilanna; so did a whole lot of other people. Many of them were their friends. It was hardly as if it made her a bad person. So, hell with that. Chryste was…

Ilanna’s mind tried to land on “violent.” She steered it forcibly aside. It passed “beautiful,” “batshit,” “abused,” even “demonic,” all of which were true, of course, but not quite what she was looking for. Finally, she let it rest on “vulnerable.” Yeah, that was it, that was Chryste: vulnerable.

The line slid across the paper, dragged smoothly by the tip of Ilanna’s pen. It formed a jaw, then a cheek, and then a mouth, and there it was in the set of those lips— Chryste, vulnerable. It was there in the eyes, too, once they’d been drawn. Big and wide and frightened of the world, they made the girl look like Flambi’s Mother (Flambi, as everyone knew, was the famous wild goat who had been orphaned as a kid and was now a much beloved figure in children’s books all across Azeroth. His mother, of course, had died by falling into a sausage grinder, but only because she’d been pushed in by several dwarves).

As Chryste’s nose, then her brow and the lower part of her hairline started resolving themselves onto the paper, Ilanna raised her voice out of silence.

“So uh… Chryssy darlin..?”

“Hm?” said Chryste, then rose from the small table where she’d been polishing her bigass bloody sword– she had a new one now– and moved to sit next to Ilanna on the living room couch. She blushed as she what her lover was drawing. “I don‘t look like that…” Ilanna eyed her, then looked at her drawing.

“No, you don‘t,” said Ilanna. “You’re beautifuler.”

Chryste blushed a little darker. Ilanna smiled and kissed her on the cheek, then curled herself sideways on the couch and rested her head in Chryste’s lap. Chryste’s fingers ran through the mane of silky hair.

“What was it you wanted to ask me about?” she asked.

“Well…” started Ilanna, then paused. “I… just, was wond’ring whether… I mean… I guess I should oughta be getting you an engagement ring or something, huh?”

Chryste blinked as she smoothed down a strand of her lover’s hair. “Do kaldorei use rings too?”

“Who gives a damn?”

Chryste smiled, then, “Perhaps matching bands? We could hire Sunshine to make them.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

A mushy love scene followed; they tend to, in situations like this. Soon, after a long, drawn-out kiss, it became unprintable. But in midst of it, glancing down at her sketchbook, which had fallen, along with other things, like clothes, to the floor, Ilanna smiled at how accurate she had been. Chryste was beautiful, no matter what she said to the contrary, and the drawing of her face was still portraying that sense of vulnerability, just as her real face did. Ilanna had been worried it would be gone at a second look, but no; it was her best attempt yet.

It wasn’t that Chryste was weak, or afraid; far from that. But she’d seen so much pain, had been hurt and hurt and hurt so many times. Physical threats she could deal with, no doubt, but perhaps it was partly because of that, partly because she solved her problems with violence, that she was… yes, vulnerable to threats of an emotional nature. She had a tender heart– it had actually once belonged to a dryad, but they tried not to discuss that– and it needed protecting. She had a gentle soul, despite the violence, and it needed to be nourished. She needed someone to guard her against further pain, and that was just what Ilanna intended.

There was a sound of creasing leather as the cushions in the couch absorbed weight, heat, and movement. Ilanna felt her capacity for abstract thought disintegrating.

She’d keep Chryste safe. She’d keep her heart from breaking again. She’d see to that, even if it killed her.

…Fuck. A foreshadowing.

[Sunshine]

Like a hibernating mongoose, this story is not quite as dead as it may appear.