warforged | Now collapsing like the rain (Open)

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Now collapsing like the rain (Open)

Who: Valamia and open
What: Trying to shaman, now with rain showers
Where: All around the forest
When: A week around the beginning of August
Warnings: None

The Elements didn't respond to her the same in this time. Valamia had the same trouble when they first crashed into Azeroth. What little she knew at that time regarding shamanism felt like it was thrown out the window. Since arriving to this time on Azeroth she felt she same as she had then. It made her decision on what to do feel all the more strange. She was not the first person who wanted to jump up and make herself useful but she did need a distraction. That distraction was ultimately going to come in the form of attempting to keep the land and elements a pure and untainted from the Legion as possible. It may not be the boldest choice. It wasn't running headlong into the army or even removing a few imps. The task was however, was one that she truly believed she could manage. That was all that mattered to her.

And so she wondered the forest to a spot she felt or believed a pack of lowly demons had been slain. In each spot she set down two totems and sat between them. She would whisper briefly in Eredun and call upon a rain to cleanse the land. To answer her, the elements granted her that cleansing rain. It didn't encompass the forest, no it only stretched out around her for a couple yards at a time. Isolated showers weren't ideal but it did work. In time black smoke would rise up from the earth and begin to dissipate. Once the smoke stopped rising it was a sign to her that it was as close to pure was she could get it. The rain would come to a stop and she stayed seated. Considering that she was both wet and frustrated, she wasn't in any rush to get up. Her distraction wasn't leaving her to feel any better. Maybe the feeling of accomplishment for doing something for the greater good would kick in...eventually.

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That was one major difference between her and others in the Flight. She was old, tired and didn't share in the hope or whatever it was that drove these people. Faith, perhaps. "You believe three people is enough to convince a mass in the middle of the Legion's attack?" She shuts her eyes and shakes her head. Hopeful youth.

She opens her eyes and looks at him for a moment then turns her attention upwards. She was fairly sure she's surrounded by insanity. At least now she had her distraction. "You realize people would want me to explain it. It would be a belief of it's my duty to do so. A person could grow suspicious of someone else explaining in my place."

Mar nodded. "Actually, yes, I do believe it. I'm willing to bet that at least one of us could sell Kaneis on its value, and Nepeta will listen without any trouble. Then we tell Rose, who's always been quite reasonable and sensible, and she can bring the Green Flight along. Mass convinced."

Hopeful youth he might have been, but he was pretty certain they could do this one particular thing for more reasons than simple optimism.

"I think you're worrying too much about the suspicions of others, though." Or their opinions, which was very strange -- since when did Vala particularly care what other people thought? "I may not be a shaman, but I've worked with them, for them, and against them, so I've picked up a few things along the way. Enough to answer a question or three, and I don't think the people we'll be talking to will dismiss it all just because I don't use it personally."

"A part of the mass. That's not including natives or other flights." She would feel much better trying to get a druid to work with her then the three of them trying to get flights to work together on anything. Not that many personal feelings mattered in a war with the Legion.

Cultural differences, racial differences, were all good reason to be suspicious. In her mind, if her own people could hold their own with indifference for shamanism then why not others? Not that she wanted to tell him that. That would be too personal. "Do you believe people will act on the faith of your words? Do you believe there is something in this world that would not only give that idea form but force others to follow it?"

Mar shrugged. "Words are weapons the same as swords and maces. Sometimes they scar, sometimes they kill what needs to die, and sometimes they win you the battle if you use them properly."

Even though the Flight itself, at large, had rejected any faith in his words, he had not. Mar had faith in himself, at least... and, 'Where faith dwells, hope is never lost.'

He didn't particularly think either of the draenei would appreciate him quoting Velen, though. For vastly different reasons, but still.

"And it's a battle that we need to and should fight, regardless of whether or not we'll win. So let's assume we'll win."

She lets out a long, bitter laugh. If she was laughing at him, his words or something else entirely she wasn't sure. What she did know is that sentiment didn't work with her. Not with her life, not with the countless failed battles against the Legion and not with all the dead Draenei scattered across countless worlds. Not with how they lost Argus. "It must be nice to be young, to have such faith and embrace such ideas time and time again." The comment is almost nonchalant, as if she was stating a simple fact.

But them again she figured he'd dismiss that idea or counter it with some idea of how they must do so. The belief in the Light or something else that was repeated by every person who wielded it. Hm, she might as well test that. "Elf, let me ask a question. How long must a person be thrown into battle and how long are they to carry the hope for victory?"

Edited (derped on writing) 2014-09-04 04:21 (UTC)

Mar spread both his hands -- well aware that she probably wouldn't like the answer he intended to give, but also well aware that she wouldn't like any answer that wasn't, 'not as long as you have, here's your free ticket home'.

"As long as they care about the outcome."

She wasn't surprised by his answer. It was what she figured someone like him would give. Someone who didn't care about all they'd given up to fight years after year. Once she might have understood that but not anymore.

"You dismiss the hope of countless people with a statement like that. Is only the hope of those who carry a sword important?"

"Oh no, not at all! Everyone has a role to play in the fight. Not just the warriors and the mages on the front line. Where would we be without the guards, back home, protecting our cities? The scholars who study the histories, the tutors who educate our next generations, the farmers who grow crops... They're all necessary, they're all needed." He shrugged, adding, "Though I'm sure not all of them think in such grand terms, but -- at least in Azeroth, we act as peoples, and as alliances. And if necessary, forge our own."

"What of the civilians? The retired? Those who live with their family and share no desire to chase after glory or continue to shed blood? Not everyone wants the same outcome in life and not everyone wants to think so boldly." She lets out a small, weary sigh. "Remember. I am not from Azeroth nor is it my home. It is one of many worlds I've walked on, that's all."

"The civilians are providing the support that their job requires. Farming, shopkeeping, managing the auction houses and inns. They're all just as necessary. And the retired... they tend to come in two types. The truly retired are the ones who don't care any more -- the ones who have such age or injury or just plain exhaustion that they can no longer bring themselves to lift their heads to the metaphorical battle any more. On the other, you have the ones who all those factors still apply, but they do still care, so they find a position where they can still do a part with what they have left, or pass on their knowledge and wisdom to others."

Some people fit in the middle of the spectrum, or closer to one end or the other, it was true. Mar still remembered the bitter anguish in Varok Saurfang's voice, and well understood his withdrawal from active Horde duty. But even so, he still served in the way he could, as part of the remaining forces in Northrend.

She tilts her head, a small display of curiosity. Valamia wanted to question if he considered motives for retirement. Or if those who retire, who sit by family and look after little ones, are meant to brush aside their responsibilities for battle. Alas, that line of questioning would only make her more bitter towards being here. "That makes retirement seem all too simple, doesn't it? That it comes easily, overnight even. No troubles adjusting to civilian life. No questioning what to do with oneself." No staying at home waiting for your partner to have some time off duty to see each other again.

"Nothing is ever so simple. Not war nor trying to lead a simple life as a civilian."

"Well, of course I'm oversimplifying. We aren't exactly seated in a comfortable inn prepared for hours of debate." Though his shrug indicated that he might not be opposed to that. When Vala was at least trying to be civil, such as now, she wasn't really that bad to talk to. They might be so far apart in every factor they had almost no common ground at all...

Well, actually, maybe they did in one tiny respect. "It might surprise you to know that I actually attempted to retire, briefly. Hit the point where I felt I'd done my duty, that I was no longer needed or wanted, and that I'd earned my leisure."

She would kill for a decent inn. She rubs her legs, her old and tired joints and finally stands. She stands straight and proper even if she feels much more like slouching. Sleeping on a make-shift bed of furs was combined with her running around was not helping her body or her mood. Civility was...not high on the list of priorities.

"Someone like you, retire? I imagine you would go stir crazy within a week." Valamia could remark on how his insanity would likely worsen if he wasn't busy running off, doing whatever his madness tells him to. She wouldn't make that jab at him now. "Or decide to drink enough to pass out so that you don't go stir crazy."

"My sister would have killed me if I'd done that." He might not be exaggerating. His sister did have that whole Death-Knight-bloodlust thing lurking beneath the surface. "But really, it was much as I'd said. I thought my role in the battle was done. I thought my efforts no longer mattered. For a brief while, disillusioned and bitter, I'd stopped caring."

A thought struck him, then, and he tilted his head at Vala as he looked at her. "You know, it just occurred to me that we might not even properly be from the time. Clearly close by, but I'd just mentally assumed you and the Vindicator were practically from the same day as I was."

"You know not everyone retires for that reason." Plus some people only had one sibling left who supported their choice to retire. Her little sister must have been vastly different from his sister. That was something, if true, she could be very grateful for.

She gives him a doubtful look. "What makes you think that? If it's the fact neither of us quotes Azeroth history, that's a poor reason." Although she didn't care much from what time they were all from. Vas knew her, she knew Vas and that was all that mattered. "There's more important issues then that, aren't there?"

Mar shrugged, well aware his reasoning was flawed. "Mostly because all of my time-traveling has been in, uh, chronological order." He knew perfectly well the pair of them probably knew nothing and next-to-nothing about Azeroth and its history, so that certainly wasn't it. "But if you aren't temporally contiguous to me, I can't invite you over for tea when this is all over."

She runs a hand over her face. Time-travel in order. She could only hope that he realized how insane that comment sounded. Again, it was one of many, many things he's said that she could make a snippy comment about. She won't but it won't keep her from wishing she would. "I hope it wouldn't be with the expectation of me arriving. After all of this I do intend on staying at home." a beat. "You're also not the kind of person I want around Lunora."

"And it would be a little difficult to get you there," Mar continued on quite cheerfully. "Not so bad, since we live fairly close to the Ghostlands, we'd just have to get you past the undead it keeps spawning -- but they're weak, comparatively, so that's not so bad. The important thing is that home isn't covered by the usual patrols, so no problems with attempting to set the draenei on fire as an Alliance enemy. But we elves do make a mean tea."

Valamia sighs. No, she's not remarking on his insanity this time. "See, here's the problem. I don't enjoy traveling from my home. Tea isn't much in the way of motivation to leave either." Ignoring the fact that it would mean leaving her daughter again, not being home or being around more blood elves.

"I wouldn't suggest getting your hopes up, that's all."

"I'm an optimist who chooses to believe in my success against the most overwhelming odds. And also I have a few hundred years left in me to strike down all evil, defeat the Legion and the Old Gods, reconcile the Alliance and the Horde at last, and bring peace to Azeroth. So maybe conditions will be better for a visit a little in the future, so long as the timelines are compatible."

He might just be overselling himself a bit too much, but those WERE his goals. Why aim small?

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Now collapsing like the rain (Open)

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