angryfistofgod | OPEN POST

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OPEN POST

Upon watching the gunship make its escape, Varian had not expected to ever see Stormwind again, and according to Khadgar, he wouldn't have had he not been allowed to escape that island. Why he'd been allowed to leave was as of yet still a mystery to him, and if the Archmage had any theories as to why he'd been allowed to live, he wasn't being forthcoming about them. Not outside the suggestion that whatever the reason might be, it was more than likely a devious and potentially lethal one. The warlock, it was suggested, would not be above using the father to take out the son.

The idea of causing his son harm made him more sick to his stomach than anything and thus despite the fact he hated being cooped up within the room, he agreed to remain within it without argument if it meant that Anduin would be safe.

It didn't help any that all he could remember of his departure from the Broken Shore were bits and pieces. He remembered pushing himself up to his knees, collecting both of his fallen swords and using them to aid in pushing himself up to his feet, despite the pain such an action caused due to the injuries inflicted previously by the felguard's spears impaling his his torso, one high and to the left, one low and to the right. He recalled persevering through that pain and turning toward the path he'd used to arrive. He couldn't recall the journey across the isle, nor how he'd arrived at the beach. Though he did remember the way the water rose about him as he moved off the beach and into the sea beyond. He recalled watching as the neighboring island drew slowly closer and his repetitive mantra that he would not die within the waters between those islands. That he would make it back to Stormwind. That he would see his son again.

It had been the thought of Anduin that kept him going until he'd finally reached the beaches of what he'd been later informed as belonging to Stormheim. He didn't remember being found, though he vaguely remembered the chill that had sunk into his bones being slowly chased away by a large form that felt feathery and comforting.

He had been told he'd tossed the medic they'd had tending to his injuries at one point though he had no memory of doing so. He did recall growling and tussling with Genn though, until the worgen king made a valid point that if he overtaxed himself upon leaving the bed he would only hurt himself and lengthen his recovery time and no doubt upset his son as well. That little incident merely reminded him just how strong the Gilnean king still was despite his age.

Of course, actually keeping himself to the bed was easier said than done, but fortunately while he wasn't sleeping, he was kept occupied by Graymane or a couple books that Khadgar offered to him after multiple complaints of boredom.

He'd been resting, quietly grateful for Genn removing the hovering presence of the Archmage, when the door opened and someone entered. He might have missed it if he'd been deeper asleep, but given he'd only just fell into a light sleep when Anduin entered, the noise had alerted him to the entry before his son spoke.

He turned his head at the words and nodded his acknowledgment before turning his attention to attempting to push himself into more of a proper seated position. Given usually either Genn or Khadgar tended to help him do it, he didn't realize just how much actually attempting it on his own would hurt the still mending muscles. He grimaced at the pain and how much it took out of him to get such a simple thing accomplished, but at least he was in more of a fitting position to enjoy his son's gift and company.

"Anduin. Did they--" He paused, cutting himself off because he could guess the answer to his question before he even finished it. They would have told him if the threat to his son had passed and that it was safe to have a visit from him. "As much as I am glad to see you, my son. You shouldn't be sneaking in to see me like this. Surely they warned you it wasn't safe?"

Edited 2017-01-01 08:12 (UTC)

Llane would not forget the look of the man who had declared that he was to not stand with his men and out right shoved him backwards through the portal. It was the dark hair and blue eyes that initially gave him pause, thinking it may have been Lothar joining the fray he had been about to bat the other away.

However a better look at him told him a different story and managed to stop his squirming and stay his hand long enough for the other to do as he wished.

The man had the Lothar family traits in his stature, that was undoubted, but as far as he was aware there were no more that were aged to both himself and Lothar -- let alone one that was in the force that had come with him to the Dark Portal.

The armor was more ornate than a simple warriors as well, royal in stature and denoted a incredibly high rank as there was fur on it in places. The painstakingly molded lions that adorned the other's chest was definitely the works man ship of a dwarf and unlike any he had ever seen.

His eyes had been lingering on them in brief shock as the hand on his chest pushed him through the portal and that was that. He had fallen back through it, coming out on the otherside to civilians and the token force of guards to rush towards their king.

He told no one what had pushed him through the portal as he is ushered back to the keep and into the arms of his wife. He fell into them, allowing her to peel the armor off of her tired husband and simply take in that he had not died on that field and left his children fatherless. At one point he feels both of his children wrap themselves around his waist and he is lost until he hears that Lothar, Garona and the unknown man had returned.

"Have Lothar bring him to me, he will come in alone," he tells a guard and glances toward Taria and nods at her before he strokes his son's hair out of his face once and shoos him off to follow his sister out.

He would be found standing facing away from the entrance to the throne room when he hears Lothar swear and makes Garona's rough voice laugh. The man would undoubtedly be behind him shortly, though he would wait for him to speak. To explain himself without prompting and tell him where he came from, who did he think he was to disobey the King of Stormwind and out right make him out to be anymore important than the men and women who had been standing with him on that field.

As the other slants his lips against his own, Llane smiles and nips his friend's bottom lip. He was already becoming lax beneath even so little, worries were beginning to be cleared and more than anything, the king was so glad he was given the Lothar siblings from a young age.

A brief pause had him pulling back and looking up with a devious look. "Are you just going to stand there, Anduin? The bed is more comfortable, don't you think?"

The young man's brow climbed on his forehead as he struggled to comprehend how the other knew the dangers of Karazhan in the present, when he had previously had been staring up the the stairs like they were not something he had ever seen in his life. It caused the younger mage to tilt his head back just barely to properly take in the other's whole stature.

He was garbed in a blue that seemed much like the one he normally wore, though the leather collar was... interesting. He couldn't see the purpose of it, not beyond covering his neck from any possible attacks. The man was taller, though similarly built as he was and there was something about the older mage that made him take pause and fix his gaze firmly on the others bright blue.

There was something that nagged at the back of his head but he ignored it to close his eyes and pinch his brow.

"I highly doubt you are familiar with the current dangers here," he bluntly told the older mage, "but even if you do, you still need to leave. You're not a previous Guardian - generally they die, I think there was only one that left peacefully - and you are not a Guardian Novitiate. You are far to old to be made one." He briefly paused to look apologetic at the other for his comment on the other's age, almost about to say so until he regained his tangent of thought. "My point being is that you are either a talented liar or -- what did you do to Atiesh?"

Edited 2017-01-01 09:49 (UTC)

The struggle that his father put up to sit up was not lost on him and told him that they had left his father to heal naturally. There was no point to that -- he didn't even realize he had moved to the side of the bed until he set the large mug down on the stand next to the headboard.

"Father, I need to --" of course, as Varian told him that it wasn't safe to be in the room with him... that Khadgar had declined to tell him that there had been an actual reason for being unable to go into the room... well, he stuffed it down for the Archmage's own safety and instead smiled softly at his father.

"They told me, but you are my father and I am not one to shy away from any chance of danger." A slow deep breath is taken in and he roll up his sleeves and moved his hand to hover over the cover on his father. "Can I see how bad it is? It doesn't seem like they allowed you to properly be inspected."

The blond boy tipped his head up to glance up properly at his father's face and it felt... well, previous anger was releasing because it was his father right in front of him. He was alive and he took in a sharp breath as he murmured, "I'm glad you're alive-- I know that it is our way - a kings way to put his people before ourselves. But as a son and not a king -- I am so happy you are alive." He pulled his hands back to plant instead onto the bedding and steady himself before he managed to make the conversation more awkward than he feared it already was going to be.

He took another deep breath, blinked away the tears that had been forming and smiled at his father once more.

"Allow me to tend to your wounds. Watching you have issues sitting up is not right."

He was glad to be alive as well, even despite the possible drawbacks that his surviving might entail. It was entirely possible that they could overcome whatever nefarious plans Gul'dan had in store involving him. Once they'd managed to overcome whatever lurked in wait, then he could once again hopefully turn his attention to aiding the kingdom and his son.

He wasn't certain it would be wise for Anduin to tend to his injuries, as that might be exactly what Gul'dan was expecting and what might end up causing Anduin harm. The uncertainty no doubt showed in his lack of an immediate answer. "It may not be right, but Gul'dan might also be expecting you to tend to me. If that is the case...I don't want you hurt trying to speed up my recovery."

Varian walked into the throne room, eyes taking in the room, the throne and the man within it. How could he explain his actions without giving away who he was? It was apt to be too difficult to try to skate around his identity, and his reasons for his actions. Lying would soon only dig him a much larger hole for himself.

So while it was entirely possible that the truth would not be received well, it would be best for him if that was exactly what he gave the man before him. He would freely admit that he could not just stand by and watch his father perish before him once more and given the way the situation had been going prior to Lothar's arrival; Varian suspected that had he not sent Llane through the portal, he would have been placed in an rather unforgivable situation and been forced to deal with exactly that.

At least the walk from the gryphon roost to here had helped to warm him slightly from the chill of the flight. Though he doubted he'd be truly warm until he had shed his armor and damp clothing, followed by a hot bath. He came to a stop a couple feet away from where Llane stood.

"I was told you wished to see me?" He would give the king the chance to present him with his questions before he went into explanations. Best to give only what was needed so as not to overstep and make this possibly worse than it no doubt was already.

Edited 2017-01-01 14:11 (UTC)

"Father, if I am hurt in speeding up your recovery then it would be my own fault for not listening," he told the other with a sudden furrow if his thick blond brows, lips thinning into a line as he thought of a way to make his father see some reason in allowing him to heal him. Watching Varian struggle to sit up left a fowl taste in his mouth, one that he couldn't swallow as easily as he had his anger with the Archmage.

Of course, he knew his next words to the Archmage would undoubtedly biting. He was being treated as a child with how he and Greymane declined to give him a straight answer - though he was infinitely more inclined to believe that the Worgen had been only taking Khadgar's lead... He didn't say anything when he spotted him on the way there.... yes! That was how he would handle it.

"I was spotted by Genn on the way in, Father. I believe you and I both know that if he thought it would be dangerous I would not be here." Anduin shifted his hands again, fidgeting with them before he chose to settle them back on his lap. "He would not have had any hesitation in telling Khadgar or even be in here right this moment to retrieve me. Perhaps Khadgar is making a mountain out of a mole hill."

Pleased with his new argument, Anduin shifted once more. Now that he was faced with his father he could not simply find the peace in himself to stay still, not with the energy that was renewed, roaring relentlessly through his veins at the adrenaline of sneaking in and the happiness he found in his father's state of breathing.

Of course, if the suggestion he originally put forward was rebuffed, a king always found a new path to take.

"If you allow me to, I'll not try to take too much cider from you, I doubt they've giving you much more than light foods and drink as it is." Anduin cheekily grinned st his father, blue eyes twinkling in their mirth.

Llane slowly turned toward the unknown man and took him in properly. Definitely a Lothar, he finds himself thinking, though there was something else about him that he could not place completely. His armor held the detail of one of a line of Royalty, though he did not know how to properly place such a person. No leader would have hidden the boy as a child, a proud son and he was sure to be a fine leader to any troops under his command.

He did not unclasp his hands as he began to make his way down the stairs to silently prowl around the unknown man to take a closer look at him. The fur was matted, slightly damp and he could smell the salt on his form like a punch to the face. He was wet. Though there had been no body of salt water on the Black Morass, let alone anything alive at this point because of that blasted gate.

"As much as I am sure my family gives you their thanks," he finally piped up, slightly behind him to the left, staring at the armor, "I am still owed a reason for being manhandled through a portal and being forced to leave behind my men. I should have remained there with them." But he could not deny that he could see the logic in the other's methods and it really did rankled something in him.

"Who are you? Where did you come from? You are no son of any royalty I can place on Azeroth, though you hold yourself and wear armor of one. Are you, too, from the same place as the orcs? Or do I have reason to worry that more of you will be coming from another portal? Not that I am against it if they are all as quick witted as you - but I would prefer to know before what little remains of my men begin pouring in here with their own issues of more like you appearing from no where. I do not think the Stockade would be adaquate enough to hold any of you for long."

Stepping around the warrior, Llane tips his brow up and he stands in front of him considering. "A name would be enough for now, you're risking a chill with your current regalia. My queen undoubtedly has already found you some new clothes to wear as a show of her thanks."

Edited 2017-01-02 00:37 (UTC)

Varian watched the man as he moved down the stairs leading to the throne. He refrained from overtly watching him as he circled, remaining facing forward. Though his eyes did follow his path inasmuch as it was possible. He waited until he was certain the king was finished speaking, before replying.

"Varian Wrynn."

He could give him the rest of his desired answers now, but he reasoned that such a conversation would end up growing long and thus would be much more fitting to take place once he'd changed out of his armor. Not only that, it would give him time to think of how best to explain things. Though he had no idea if he was merely one of the first to come here or if he was to be the only visitor here in this alternate Azeroth, so that question would the hardest to properly answer he suspected.

Edited 2017-01-02 00:56 (UTC)

There's more hints to Tiffin being his mother, even if he doesn't confirm that's who she indeed is, given his blonde hair that definitely doesn't come from his father's side of the family.

"He named me in honor of a great hero of the Alliance," Anduin explained softly, but then Llane's words sunk in and his brow furrowed. "... Wait, uncle? Anduin Lothar wasn't my uncle... not by blood, at least. And I don't know of any aunt Ada... There are some people I refer to by aunt and uncle but none of them are related by blood, only bonds. My father... He's an only child."

Lothar knows that Llane is right, of course, but his stubborn nature makes him want to just stand there for a moment and be like "no, you move," instead of just taking what they both want. Finally, though, he changes his position and lays back against the bed, inviting Llane to cover him.

"Come, then, and prove to me why the bed is better than standing?"

Stubborn and persistent. Traits he no doubt passed down himself, but sometimes he couldn't deny they could be frustrating. Any counter-argument he might have made against Anduin choosing to not 'listen' was abruptly half-defeated before he could get it finished at the revelation that Graymane was well aware of the fact that Anduin was here with him.

It could very well be that things might not be as severe as suggested and yet he knew Khadgar did have a rather valid point and the archmage had never before steered him wrong when it came to a situation. He shouldn't have survived being left on the Broken Shore, especially not after the injuries he'd suffered. The memory of that pain hadn't left him. It had been enough to make him drop his swords and fall to his knees. How he hadn't bled out before he'd been found was impossible to explain and part of why he'd given Khadgar's words the merit he had.

He bunched the covers up in his hands as he silently debated the wisdom of letting his son having his way or sticking to his earlier refusal. The obvious attempt at bribery managed to pull a soft snort of amusement at out him and he gave his son a quietly amused glance before finally speaking.

"Very well--but not both of them. And if you sense anything unusual or strange while you are doing it...you are to immediately stop and leave. Do I make myself clear?"

When his eyes first laid on the wolf pelt draped over the desk in the study, a bloodied piece of leather tagged onto it, Khadgar's heart stopped. The books he had been carrying in had been dropped on the floor as the Guardian of Azeroth turned on heel and ran through the halls of the Greymane Manor towards their shared room. It wasn't what it looked like, his mind screamed at him, that wasn't Genn's white fur - or the gold rings tied around thick braids that would lay under his chin.

Hoping, praying that the Worgen would be in their room, possibly fumbling with some gun and his attempts in cleaning it as practice with his larger, clawed hands and more delicate work - or even reading next to the window with some sort of drink on the small table near by. He wouldn't know, he hadn't been in there the night before, given a brief moment of leniency from the king he had thought originally, that Genn saw his behavior in need of reward and allowed him the time to get lost in his studies and return to it on his own terms...

But he found the bed untouched and the blankets wree undisturbed from where they had rested when Khadgar had been manhandled back into the warmth by thick, furry arms. They were not even a breadth out of place from where Khadgar had twisted and got the upper hand when he climbed astride the other's middle. Still draped from how he had laughed at the other's complaints as he sat up and undone the buttons to the stolen shirt to discard gently across the pillow he would normally use.

Genn hadn't slept there last night.

His heart fills his ears and he faintly remembers yelling for Crowley -- for Genn. He shouted for the other to stop playing whatever game he thought of this time as revenge for his last prank, it wasn't funny and it wasn't welcome, too far - much too far. Panic over takes him as he doesn't wait for Darius to find him, instead taking to the air as a raven to get to the Nobel as fast as he could.

Perhaps it was too fast, Khadgar thought as he collided with the other's chest head first. It hurt, but the mage couldn't particularly care. He had squawked and lead him to that room, where the pelt and brown leather lie.

Khadgar doesn't remember the next few hours very clearly, though he was unsure if it was due to an head injury or if he just was not able to cope completely with the acts that needed to be done. It smelt like Genn, the blood was the King's and so was the leather -- dead maybe a few hours before it was chemically tanned. He remembers these little things clear as day, though he barely knew what else was going on. Crowley had not let him move from where he had been tucked to be kept safe in case he was unable to change back much like a Worgen.

The next few days get better, he finds, waking up in a different room one morning and only being filled with rage. Not for the first time in his life he wished he could allow himself to fall to the fel and ravage the land. However, it was not the path for him. He spends his time with the other inhabitants of the Manor - going do far as to summon Illidan back to have him send his own men and women out to see what they could garner information-wise.

There was a prevailing thought behind every action he had; after it was all over, he would return to the cave and die there. It was his small comfort, that after everything and those involved wished for a death that would not come, he would go back to the bone-chilling cave and finish what he had perhaps started after the death of the King of Stormwind. He'd die there.

That was why Khadgar hunched over the table near where the pelt had been moved and sketched out another lead he found - Blightcaller was still alive, it could be his doing - so he could process it fully.

He had been having issues with that, he knows, people often had to repeat to him anything that was directed at him. They were worried about the deeper bags under his eyes and the sole person to attempt to tell the Archmage to rest was sent through a wall. No one dared to tell him such a thing since.

Once youthful and wise, always dancing blue eyes were dull, as if the flame that had eternally burnt in them was finally snuffed out. His gaze often blurred at this point, not helping the fact that he was unable to focus on his surroundings.

He scribbled his quill across the paper, remembering vaguely that Genn had issues reading his normal print and how he had adapted since. There had been no point in hiding it from the other - he trusted him to never tell anyone what he had wrote. Well, at least the man would go to the grave never telling anyone a single thing.

Khadgar realizes he's written something much different than intended and finally stops. Slow, deep breaths are taken and his gaze is drawn to the pelt and not for the first time he begins to move towards it. He strokes his fingers through the mane of fur that would be at the top of his head, down the slope of a nose and has to close his eyes to stop his double vision. Sweeping his hand back up, he knocks a thick braid purposely and laughs, a whispered swear flicking off the tip of his tongue before he pinches his brow.

He would persevere through this, Khadgar knew this, at least long enough to see Blightcaller skinned much the way he had done to the Worgen.

That earned a furrowed brow from the elder mage. It wasn't often that he ran into someone who was so obviously unaware of who he was. Nor had he ever heard of such a title ever used. Though if he was to be honest, it was the combination of it being suggested he was a liar concerning his experience with Karazhan and the idea that he'd actually do anything to the staff he currently held that truly irked him most.

"I have done nothing to Atiesh." His tone was somewhat offended that it had even been suggested that he would. "You're the trespasser here, not I, and I would like to know just what has happened to or in Karazhan in my absence. It does not look as it did when I departed it last. Just why are you even here in the first place?"

Llane froze in his spot as the mystery man told him who he was. Of course, due to the orcs coming from another world - travelling through time was no stretch. He wouldn't know how, exactly, however. He barely understood how the dark portal worked in all honesty. Though he did know it ran on sacrifice... Llane closed his eyes briefly and took in a slow breath before opening them and looking towards his beautiful wife who nodded back at him.

It did make a lot more sense why the man seemed more like a Lothar than any other thing and worked his jaw carefully. "Then, Varian," what a strange thing to say, to think that this may have actually been his son - no matter how proud he may have felt for a brief moment, "follow Taria to get you garbed in dry clothes. We will talk more in the War Room."

Llane would take the chance to escape to gather something for him and the other something to eat, to talk like adults. Out of habit for when he would spend time with his son, he gathered two mugs and a pitcher of cider to drink.

When Varian would come to the War Room there would be the pitcher and mug surrounded by warm food that would be enough to chase away any lingering chill. Llane, the King himself, would be found playing with the carving that denoted the Guardian while deep in thought.

There was something wrong with hearing that Varian was an only child and that Anduin Lothar was not his uncle. Lothar must have thought so to, as his previous amusement turned into a quiet few words of disbelief.

Llane worked his jaw as he studied the blond, undoubted from Tiffin as her hair was much the same color as the boys - maybe a shade ot two lighter. "

You would be wrong then," Llane settled on, watching Anduin carefully, "Taria Wrynn is both the sister of Anduin Lothar and mother of two, Ada and Varian. Lothar would have been your great uncle."

Llane snorted at his stubborn friend, though hummed his satisfaction as he would lay back and invite the king to show him why laying on the bed would be much more comfortable than standing. The corners of his lips curl up at the edges and Llane does not hesitate as he decides to straddle the other's hips with no shame in how he seated himself. He ground down a bit, smug with his choice and settles his hands on the other's toned stomach.

"Why am I doing your work, Anduin?" The man asked, leaning forwards to allow curls to fall foward with the new angle, "is this not your job? To be showing me why this is better than pouring over the safety of my kingdom?"

The quiet humor that his father held at his bribery relaxed some part of him, as did the compromise that his father once would never had even thoight to come too. Silent pride filled his belly at that single show of how much he truly had taught his father and that alone had him ready to agree to the terms.

"Remember that you may be speaking to your Son, Father... but also your king." This time he held nothing back and grinned at his father like none other, so pleased with himself for being able to pull that over him now. Truly, if he didn't feel like taking the compromise -- which he was going to take as he would rather his father happy -- he wouldn't have to.

"However, I agree to all of it. If I feel something wrong, I will stop and I will only heal one. However, I will be the one to pick which wound, that seems fair doesn't it?"

"You have done something to Atiesh it didn't look like that the last time I saw it... the wings were spread and the baubles weren't there...," Khadgar insisted, brows furrowing and he had been about to ask why the man even had Atiesh before he was counter accused to being the trespasser in the tower. Which, in all technicalities was not wrong. This wasn't his tower, he had declined to take it, but he wasn't about to let anyone else have the knowledge hidden within its walls. So the younger mage stared blankly at the older one and debated the best way to shoot down most of -- wait, what did he --

"I had to absorb the power from the leylines to keep the fel from tainting it further, if that's what you mean. The tower is exactly how it was otherwise." Khadgar jutted his chin up and then glanced down at the floor. "Are you a friend of Medivh's? I didn't know he had one outside of King Llane or Lothar. They acted like they were the only ones anyways." If he was a friend of Medivh's who had just returned from somewhere and had no idea of what had transpired... well, that made a little more sense.

Edited 2017-01-08 00:49 (UTC)

Half of Anduin wished he had just kept quiet about Lothar not being his great uncle and not knowing this Aunt Ada, but he also disliked lying too. He was curious to know more about Ada but first he had to get out of this cell.

"Please, I swear to you, I am telling the truth. That's how it is in the place and time I come from. Perhaps... perhaps something got changed somehow, and even if you don't believe me, I mean no harm. If you would just let me go, I'll leave and you won't ever have to deal with me again. You can have as many guards as you want escort me out of the city, if that would put you more at ease, but I promise I'll leave peacefully."

Edited 2017-01-08 06:13 (UTC)

"This makes no sense." But then when did things actually make sense within Karazhan. He turned his attention for the moment from the young man before him to once more look around him, mainly at that perplexing stairway.

It was the seemingly casual mention of old friends that yanked his attention back firmly upon the other mage once more. He gave him a harder stare than might have been called for, but this was the second time that those long dead had been mentioned as if years had not passed since they had died.

"I was, yes. I was also an acquaintance of Llane and Lothar. You speak as if you knew them personally yourself." Which was impossible unless the young mage before him was far more than he appeared to be.

"Just who are you?"

Edited 2017-01-10 05:05 (UTC)

The wisecrack caught the Magus by surprise, and he threw back his head in sudden peals of laughter - his rich voice filling the space. Laughing was something he didn't do often. Leave it to Khadgar to make him laugh in the midst of an intimate encounter. The outburst wasn't overly long, but it was intense enough to cause tears of mirth to spring to his eyes.

"You really did take after me, didn't you?" He said finally, once he could find his voice again. As punishment or reward (he would let Khadgar decide), his hand started moving on his dick in earnest - gleefully enjoying the other mage's reaction to his touch. That sound he made was simply marvelous.

However, all movement stopped at the sudden wrist grab - and Medivh tensed in immediate concern, his grip loosening. "Khadgar? What's wrong?" He asked as the other man moved his hand away and started moving. He looked up at the Archmage with a querilous but obviously concerned expression when he turned himself around. He actually felt relief at the other man's words, glad that he didn't do anything displeasing.

Before he could respond, Khadgar nuzzling into the point of his beard made him lean his head back with a shiver. "No need to apologize." He uttered with a sigh, shifting slightly to make himself comfortable beneath Khadgar as his grip wrapped around the other man with a gentle squeeze. "I was merely concerned that I caused some sort of discomfort."

Hearing Toni say that she loved it when he took care of the fel within her, caused Zakkarius to smile and tighten his hold on her slightly. There was only that one time that he had done such a task - when she had come to him drenched from rain and brimming with fel energies. It had been an interesting night.

They sat like that in silence in the dim light of his room. Zakk wasn't sure if she was starting to doze off or not. He was just mentally deciding he'd lay her on his bed if she was asleep, when she started talking again, brushing her hand along his arm.

Her jibe and nip to his chest caused Zakkarius to crack a grin with an uttered 'heh', clearly amused. Her sister honestly had a strange way of 'caring', in his opinion. He sighed, relenting with a nod.

"Of course m'shala. I will come get you." He assured softly, concerned for the most part. "When and where do you want me to meet?" They were all ready on Dalaran, and he could only assume the process would take a couple hours at least. The attack had happened in the early morning and it was almost midday. To the nocturnal night elf, it was his chance to catch a brief rest before meeting with the warlock as promised.

"It makes perfect sense," Khadgar argued, though he was beginning to wonder what about the person before him. How could he be a friend of all three if he hadn't been there -- why hadn't he been there? The teen shakes his head, moving a few steps toward the elder mage to get a better look at Atiesh - at least he thought it was at first glance. The wood wasn't as dark, he found, plus who was he to have it? There wasn't any guardian replacements that he knew of, especially so fast after his last refusal, especially one who --

"Then why weren't you at Llane's funeral?" Khadgar finally blurted out, brows furrowing. "And you're asking me who I am? When you're the one trespassing?"

But whatever, he was curious enough to indulge the man.

"I am Khadgar, Mage Consul to the Lord Regent of Stormwind. Ex-Guardian Novitiate and currently trying to finish cleaning any lingering... uh, well, fel. You interrupted that last part. Who are you?"

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Re: Varian / Llane - Miri

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Skinned Alive - Miri

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