[open] you can't count on nothin'

[miscreant]

Who: Seviilia Brightwing and YOU
What: Multiprompt!
Where: A cave, in the mountain Range to the east of Suramar.
When: NOW
Warnings: Death Knight warnings

A. Stags and Owls and Bears, oh my!

[Its been a few long and quiet days, where Seviilia has spent the better part avoiding other Dragonsworn passing in the area. She had seen the Aspects traveling north, Deathwing among them, and wasn't interested in revealing herself until she was certain their business in the area had completed. In truth, she spent several hours contemplating whether or not Deathwing had already been clued in to her presence, without actually looking for her.

The uncertainty had made her tense, and a tense death knight meant bloodshed. Anyone wandering the perimeter will find a trail of various animal corpses right up to a singular elf, crouching half-stealthed behind a tree while waiting for another to cross her path. If the scent of blood doesn't give her away, the anxious shifting will.]

B. Suramama Mia

[Seviilia had chosen the area for its location near the river -- it meant there was plenty of life passing through if she ever felt an urge, and it also gave her something to watch that wasn't liable to attack her for being in its space. The downside, of course, was that it nearly neighbored Legion territory.

This could also be considered a plus, as it kept the Night Elves and most Dragonsworn away as well. But for the moment, it was a definite negative.

Its the sound of small feet scratching that gets her attention first, then the stale mell of brimstone. The knight's ears perk upward briefly, then lay back as she reaches for her axes to step out of the cave. Sure enough, a small scouting pack of imps bounces along through the trees, followed by a large (but singular) felhound.

Seviilia promptly retreats back behind the rocky alcove and narrows her eyes. They're following something -- or someone. Maybe its her.

Or maybe its you.]

C. Shake Rattle and Roll

[Seviilia has spent the better part of the day following the river as far as it will go, to the edge of troll territory. Though she is mostly certain she could take a handful of the larger, ancient cousins of those she is familiar with, she isn't particularly interested in attracting them to her position.

Constructing a barrier while she is still mostly clueless about these new abilities proves difficult -- not to mention the fact that she is trying to do it without alerting the trolls to her presence. Its possible that, while wandering along the river, you fall into one of the many pitfall traps she's managed to create by bending the earth around her.

Whoops.]

Comments

[beholdthedrums]

[He leans back just a little, focusing on her peculiar earthen structure--what was she trying to do?--and taking on a thoughtful expression. What does he need? Hm. The answer is simple.

His eyes shift back to her.]

Information is a valuable commodity, though perhaps not as much as souls.

[Depends who you ask.]

A trade: valuable information for valuable information, though I'm sure our "values" differ. As I still know very little about the new abilities at my hand, and you... well, you seem quite comfortable with yourself.

[He shrugs a shoulder.] And I suppose if the value isn't met, an "IOU" could be acceptable. [He will get a small black dragon to bite her ankles if she tries not to "pay up," alright. Once he starts training said small black dragon.

He arches a brow.]

Seem fair?

[miscreant]

[She is not particularly scared of the Master -- if the trade-off turns out not to be worth it later, then she will be rid of it, as far as she is concerned.]

Practice, darling. Nothing more.

[She pauses, straightening to full height.]

And I suppose a bit of it simply comes naturally. Nevertheless...I am certain we will be of value to one another, with or without that footnote.

[Seviilia extends a hand, half encased in plate and half in preserved rot with the glowing runes on her fingers.]

I don't believe we have been properly introduced.

[beholdthedrums]

[Her hand hardly bothers him. In a former lifetime long ago he was particularly... extra crispy. It's the runes that make him cautious, but he shakes her hand, anyway.

A warped smile twists across his face.]

I am the Master.

[miscreant]

[The runes are warmer than her actual skin, which is almost ice cold. His name makes her chuckle, but she plays along. She's heard much more ridiculous titles in the past. Perhaps once, she might have been offended at the idea of needing to address anyone as 'Master', regardless of the implication. She's mostly moved on from such things.

Mostly. So long as he doesn't attempt to lord the title over her, she expects they will have no quarrel with one another.]

Seviilia, Master.

[beholdthedrums]

[He's secretly (very, very secretly) pleased that she accepts his name easily unlike some people in the place.]

A pleasure. [Which is true. She probably has the most potentially out of everyone he's met so far.] Now, before I continue on my way... why have you turned the ground into Swiss cheese? [He ogles her work-in-progress structure again.]

[miscreant]

Of course it is.

[She releases his hand and glances to her work, nodding passed what hills she's already managed to create. There aren't many -- its obvious she hasn't mastered the skill yet.]

I have neighbors that are not exactly...friendly.

[beholdthedrums]

And your "anti-crowd" thing keeps you from going back to your sanctum? [It's not like they're that crowded. Even redflight, which is teeming with 'sworn, has so much damn space.

He thinks he's perfectly reasonable here.]

[miscreant]

Precisely.

[A bold-faced lie. If she tells him the truth, she risks allowing him to use it as leverage over her in the future. He could tell any of the black dragons where she was hiding, knowing that she was specifically hiding from them.

Not happening. She doesn't trust anyone (especially not another black dragonsworn) that much.]

You should consider my lack of presence a blessing.

[beholdthedrums]

[And he probably would, if it came down to it. If it was his life on the line or spilling the truth? She'd be on the chopping block. There's only one person in Azeroth that he'd at least hesitate for.

She can be a hermit, see if he cares.]

Good luck with your hovel then, or whatever it is you're trying to make. I hope you'll at least keep a base of operations, and that I won't have to find Azeroth's version of a carrier pigeon to pass information to you.

[miscreant]

[That makes her chuckle.]

There are owls in the forest, should you require it -- or perhaps a hunter will lend you their beast. But if you return to this general piece of forest, I am certain you will find me. I am not exactly difficult to spot.

[She returns to her task.]

I am sure we will stumble across one another without much effort. Perhaps when I have a better grasp on what exactly has happened to me, I can create a more permenant solution for us.

[beholdthedrums]

[Pretty sure Apollo isn't letting him anywhere near Metalhead. He could probably get Cynder to do it, though she'd likely ask more questions than he'd feel like answering.]

I'll figure something out. [He really shouldn't hang around here all day though. He doesn't want to go back to the Obsidian Sanctum yet, but he doesn't need to remain so far out.

He offers her a small, polite bow.] Do take care, Seviilia. I will see you around.

[He turns away to depart, unless she calls him back with anything of import. And he's watching his damn footing this time.]