The Archmage was left to stare at the blur of white and the red that mixed with a near pool of green, hissing its hate for the single soul left to hear it. His voice failed him and though he knew that it was for the best... A small part of him whispered that perhaps he should've tried to stop the man from launching himself off to handle his own grief - handle what was left of his kingdom.
He did not lift himself from the crater he had been the conduit of, the pain that radiated throughout his whole being saw to it being impossible to do more than sit there.
What would Medivh say to him if he saw his trusted apprentices doings? His mind provided him things, slightly comforting things in the midst of the static buzzing radiating through his mind. He would sit there for hours, until the sun rose and then stayed more until the time noon rolled around. It hurt to move, but he was needed.
At least until he felt a force of cold magic send him sliding into a pillar inches left of a green pool and a thundering feminine voice slamming into him. Jaina was relentless in how she tore into him, nor she did allow the force of her magic to relent despite the pain it was causing. He blamed her none for her rage, much as he had not taken any offense with the pain that Greymane had left him with.
Her rage lasted for hours, until she set him down and allowed them to go back to Dalaran, as that was her original purpose. Her verbal jabs came to him at all points during the next week, unrepentant in bringing up the once calming voice in his head that sounded like Medivh and twisting it to say the things he feared about the situation to be right.
However, it is not until he spots a glimpse of the white Worgen through the crowds of a funeral for those lost too soon that he decides to leave with those venomous words in his head and allow himself to grieve alone where he could not hurt anyone else.
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The Archmage was left to stare at the blur of white and the red that mixed with a near pool of green, hissing its hate for the single soul left to hear it. His voice failed him and though he knew that it was for the best... A small part of him whispered that perhaps he should've tried to stop the man from launching himself off to handle his own grief - handle what was left of his kingdom.
He did not lift himself from the crater he had been the conduit of, the pain that radiated throughout his whole being saw to it being impossible to do more than sit there.
What would Medivh say to him if he saw his trusted apprentices doings? His mind provided him things, slightly comforting things in the midst of the static buzzing radiating through his mind. He would sit there for hours, until the sun rose and then stayed more until the time noon rolled around. It hurt to move, but he was needed.
At least until he felt a force of cold magic send him sliding into a pillar inches left of a green pool and a thundering feminine voice slamming into him. Jaina was relentless in how she tore into him, nor she did allow the force of her magic to relent despite the pain it was causing. He blamed her none for her rage, much as he had not taken any offense with the pain that Greymane had left him with.
Her rage lasted for hours, until she set him down and allowed them to go back to Dalaran, as that was her original purpose. Her verbal jabs came to him at all points during the next week, unrepentant in bringing up the once calming voice in his head that sounded like Medivh and twisting it to say the things he feared about the situation to be right.
However, it is not until he spots a glimpse of the white Worgen through the crowds of a funeral for those lost too soon that he decides to leave with those venomous words in his head and allow himself to grieve alone where he could not hurt anyone else.