Student

Tucked up high in the Aldor balcony, a forsaken woman stood, overlooking the City of Shattrath. She might have been a ghost there to most eyes, pale and willowy in the sunlight, her long hair like an incessant shadow refusing to give in to such rays. She was an oddity surely in the city of Light, though these days it received little company. Even the lower pavillion of the city was beginning to rebuild, more refugees piling out every day to find their place in the rest of Outland. The peace was a vast difference from the cluttered streets of Orgrimmar, but she found herself missing the view from the wooden loft, watching so many pass below her to attend to their own business.

It had grown too peaceful.

Annaliese twitched as she was bumped in the back by a very large dragon nose. Onin, the netherdrake she'd befriended years ago, nosed her again to fully gain her attention. Surprise lifted her brow, finding the juvenile drake in his normal form. He'd taken a liking to a smaller, elven form, granted to him by her own Orb of the Sindorei, seeing the world through the eyes of the dual-legged. The orb had taken the extra tinkering well, prolonging the time of its illusion much longer than the initial five minutes at a time. The Consortium were quite industrious when well compensated, she knew.

Between their shared hoarding of soul essences, an ethereal and a warlock could find quite a common ground.

'You are thinking of flying, I can tell,' Onin's deep voice slid into her mind. The cold discomfort of Northrend often kept the drake away--his fragile skin could withstand the blast of fel energy, but to ice Onin seemed to falter. Even in their distance, Anna found their mental bond to be as strong as it ever was. She curled her pale fingers over the drake's muzzle, petting gently as he continued to send his thoughts. 'Let me take you through the forest, like I used to. You used to love our flights over the river.' Onin ground his teeth, shaking his head at the tickling of her shadowy hair. 'Your changes have not taken those joys from you too, have they?'

Annaliese drew in a breath to sigh, stealing in air that she no longer used. "I am dead, Onin, not mindless. There are things I still enjoy as much as I used to." She gently scratched the leathery tuft of skin that dangled beneath his chin. "I came to terms with my state a while ago. Why can you not, my pet?"

The drake stared down at her with twin violet eyes, and then relented. 'Perhaps you are right. I am not of the natural world either, am I?'

A chuckle left her now, and the ghostly woman nodded. "True, true. Now go. Take Laelah with you and keep watch over her. She will love a flight."

Onin snorted indignantly, though half-way amused. 'The child-elf? Are you sure? She may fly off of my back like a passing twig! So small!'

"She is much stronger than you credit her for. Go. Perhaps she will like to take her little friend Alundria. A picnic in the Skethyl mountains, hm?"

'You would like it too, matron. Come join us.'

Annaliese smiled at the affectionate term, but she shook her head. "I have other plans tonight, I am afraid."

Onin canted his great head at the forsaken woman. 'Something calls you away where I may not go?'

"...somewhat, Onin. I'll return by the midnight hour."


*******

Deep beneath the Undercity, Annaliese walked down the canals, on past the Apothecarium--she could almost overlook the smell of death and poison wafting from its putrid laboratories. The air was cleaner as she passed on down the Royal Quarter, where only the sound of chanting banshees haunted her. The chill flowing out of the twisting inner passages bluffed her as she passed them, but she remained undettered. Eyes followed her from those dark passages, unknown things skittering around in the shadows, climbing over walls to watch another "deader" wander by. She remembered times when she would look over her shoulders by now, or stop to make sure no one was truly following after her.

Those days were gone. She now fit into the architecture.

What did unnerve her were the rumors floating about outside of the city, the occasional tremors of the earth that she'd felt as she had traveled to the ruins of Lordaeron. Talks of armageddon set so many on edge, sent so many into flurries of shopping for essential goods. Were cultists really attacking Ogrimmar? Even further her mind went, and despite her trying not to, she wondered about Stormwind. Those she once knew as friends...how were they faring during this insanity? The soft taps of her boots came to a slow stop. Her thoughts were getting out of hand. She turned, looking down a torch-lit corridor, whispered voices traveling down it.

Sometimes the most one could do was to be prepared.

"If you do -not- have an inkling as to what a demonic circle is, then you certainly do not belong my class!" The sharp, cold voice of a woman snapped down the corridor, and Annaliese followed it until it opened up into the study hall before her. Students sat behind a multitude of desks, all their attention upon the pacing Instructor, her sharp heels clicking against the stone floor. When she stopped, she struck the ground with her staff, the black pieces of diamonds encrusted to it shining in the torchlight. Her unearthly eyes ran down the rows of the seated students, and her lips opened wire tight against her face as she grinned viciously.

"Of course, you may choose to stay in my class, but I will not be surprised if you are lost within portal. Or ripped to shreds by something beyond the veil. You knew the risks when you signed the contract." The demonic circle at the forsaken's feet dissipated, and her eyes took a sharp turn to Annaliese's figure which lingered in the darkness of the hall.

"I see you there, girl, and you are late. Come here."

The podium held both a dagger, and scraps of parchment as Annaliese approached at the Instructor's beckoning. "You will sign this contract before entering this session. Understand that neither I, nor the written instructors, nor the Undercity will be held responsible for your safety. Signing this contract will also bind you to the Exchange." Lecranza smirked, her eyes piercing through the newest student. "The terms of the demonic tithe will vary from warlock to warlock, and that, my dear, will be for you to figure out on your own. As always. Hold out your hand."

A path of blood was cut into the pale skin of Annaliese's palm, and blood was made to dribble down upon the parchment. "Sign." She had done it before, signing away her name, etching the certainty that a weight would be placed on her soul for something owed. There were no second thoughts as she scraped her name into the piece of parchment, no flinching as she felt the heat of magic drive through her, cementing the magical contract. This was the process for attaining new demonic knowledge. The contract was rolled up into the Instructor's hands, and thus vanished in an array of glowing pink light.

"It is done. Welcome. Now..."

The Instructor raised her arms, spitting out words in demonic, forceful. Lacranza made no secret of her will over the dark arts, summoning a demonic portal right behind the podium. With another fling of her hands, she bade the doors open, and the portal hissed its magic into the cold air of the classroom. Each student was lining up before the summoned doorway, and Annaliese fell into order.

"I hope you have brought your Shards of Offering today! The altar inside of Nechniabain will take much more from you without the proper offering! You will learn the upper echelon of spells that will truly test your will as a warlock!" Another rap of the staff, and the first student entered the demonic portal. "Next! Hurry it up people--every moment you stay here dawdling is every moment your friends are endangered! Get in there!"

Lacranza quickly shoved the students in, cackling at the faces of two blood elves who she'd just pushed into the portal. Now Annaliese stood at the front of the line of students, looking on into the swirling abyss. Lacranza's splitting smile was aimed at her now.

"Are you ready to earn your place in my class, Annaliese? You will succeed here, or you may not come back."

Stiffening up her body, Anna eyed the Instructor for a moment, and then nodded silently, before stepping through into the darkness.

Family

Overlooking Orgrimmar’s main trade area, summer heat rose up to the loft, the air stifling. Thankfully, Annaliese didn’t need such things as air anymore. The heat didn’t bother her the way it seemed to when she was alive, either. Undeath had become comfortable for the Medic’s wife more and more now. The small pain of disconnection from her former life seemed less a heavy burden and instead an annoying buzz (like Charlette). Leaning over the balcony, she found an amusing sight. An orc was driving his Mechanohog clear over the Auction House hut, and with another rip of the heavy engine, he landed upon the dirty path in front of the building. Despite this sudden obvious show-off, he had little in the way of an audience. It was surprising, really, the way everyone below seemed to take the rider as just another standard of Orgrimmar life. Anna smirked as he roared the engine once more, and sped off.

There was a time when wolves were the standard…

Another day followed through to another change in society, another change in her life. Her eyes caught the ornate blue rune that glowed softly along the dining room hall, emitting a cooling breeze. Her love had made it, always worrying, always trying to make things more comfortable with her stay at the Loft. Yet, since having been released from her short contract with Cartier & Company’s Fine Jewelry shop in Dalaran, Anna’s days opened up much more, and she found most of her time spent in Orgrimmar by default. The Ledgermain remained a nice break away from home on occasion, and her husband’s flourishing friendship with the dancing Chef Lecoste was charming. And the Medic bringing home a fresh batch of new recipes wasn’t a bad deal out of it either. While eating such food was more than a luxury than a need these days, Anna knew the cooking made him happy, and her eating it made him happier still.

Ah, the Medic. He’d filled up with confidence since attaining a new mount, his undead dragon a masterpiece he seemed endlessly proud of. Whether he had a hand in its creation, she couldn’t quite tell, though it wouldn’t have surprised her—he still trifled in necromancy when he could. The magic was a part of him, literally and figuratively, and expecting him to not marvel at the creation of the undead was like asking a shaman not to revere his spirits.

“We’re home!” came the voice of her love now. She turned to see the spectacle of his arrival and smiled, relieved to know he was home once again. Decked in dark blue robes, a large carton filled his hands, most likely a pre-made dinner brought from the Ledgermain. His kitten Snow came to greet him immediately--and then hissed at his feet as a black cat popped it’s head over his shoulder, black as shadow. Pinchy scuttled around the Medic, clicking his pincers, eager to help. The crawdad always remained dependable in the small chaos of dinnertime, and the curious creature had become a staple of these eager meetings. Another face peeked behind the Medic as he entered, the newest addition to the strange family.

“Hi Mother!” the elflette called out with a grin that reminded Anna of bright sunshine, the way the girl warmed her over. The elf was perhaps a girl of ten human years, with springy red hair so light, it bordered on a dark pink. It had been a hard decision to adopt her, really, a Sin’dorei child cared for by Forsaken? It wasn’t unheard of, yet the uncertainty had gnawed at her, until the Medic himself opted to turn in the adoption papers himself the past spring. Since then, days without Laelah had been inconceivable—the occasional strange look couldn’t dissuade her from being around the child.

“Oooh, whats for dessert?” Laelah asked with a dramatic flair as she poked and prodded her “father”. She was met with weak laughs, and at last with a shoo of fingers.

“You shall find out when you finish your dinner!” the Medic proclaimed, his grin shot back at her. Annaliese laughed at the exchange, watching as the girl flitted off to the bath to do as she was told.

“You should follow too, ‘girl’…” he now said, turning to his wife. The light of his eyes was soft, playful as he grabbed at her. “Or I shall have to put you in the basin myself!”

“Shh! You’re horrid!” Anna twittered with laughter, which came to her more and more these days. The playful grabs turned into a full-fledged embrace before she let him go to be the “chef” for the night. Lecoste was certainly influencing him. She watched him gather a pan and some oil, humming a little tune as he prepared to cook. How quaint their life had become, how simple, even in the war torn world they lived in, the days of an untraditional family becoming very…traditional.

It was everything Annaliese had dreamed of.

Hourglass

Finding little else to do with her time (while dodging her sister’s claims of needing her), Annaliese found herself in the Medical Quarter of the Undercity. With the on-call Medic away on duty, she found herself pouring over the multitude of books that stacked his shelves. Fingers passing over the spines of different books, and a smile came to her lips at the sight of her trinket box. She had almost forgotten. Flipping open the little dagger shaped clasp, she opened the wooden lid and peered at the contents inside.

Two large crystals sat, glowing a soft pink. The swirling essences of collected souls glimmered inside of the two, a source of her power, fuel for her spells. The crystals, like her trinket box, were special creations she treasured, one for their necessity, the other for its ingenuity. She was slowly discovering ways to combine shards. Perhaps there would be a day when they would not fill her bags, where she would not have to hear the whispers of the souls she had stolen rattle in her head day by day. These crystals were silent, and she treasured them for it.

A tumbling sound caught her attention, and the rolling sound of something delicate. Expecting to find the Medic’s kitten, Snow, toying with one of her gems, she instead found the pet rolling a golden hourglass around the stone floor.

…which seemed to have rolled out of a now toppled over medical kit.

Quickly, Annaliese strode over to the small mess, and swept the kitten away from the prized hourglass. Snow made her disappointment quite known with a paw and gnaw of Anna’s fingers as she was bat away.

“Now, you…” Anna sighed, chuckling softly as the kitten wrapped itself around her hand now, gnawing on her arm playfully. “You little troublemaker.” Snow’s sea-blue eyes darted to the Forsaken, and she purred instead, giving the ghostly arm a lick instead, as if apologizing for the mess.

“I can’t believe he forgot it,” Anna murmured in thought, a bit amused as she looked down at the spilled box. There was little that had actually rolled out of the box, most of the supplies seemed secured in the never-ending expanses of the kit. Picking up a few vials and a roll of bandages, she stared at the glimmering hourglass now.

“I’m sure he’ll come back for it soon,” she added. Snow had left the room however, seeking other adventures. Tucking the vials into the box, she held the hourglass between her fingers, watching the sand fall slowly, all too slowly. It was a beautiful creation, gifted to the Medic by the Bronze Dragonflight for his efforts. Arcane magic flowed through it’s golden frame, the glass itself carved from the finest crystal. The glowing beads of sand inside flowed down into the bottom, as if they were suspended in water, drifting down lazily.

Like liquid, the feeling crept into her fingers again, a warmth suffusing them as her hands again grew pigment and color. Her grip on the hourglass tightened as she could feel the blood within her body again start to flow. She gasped as breath began to fill her lungs, taste filled her mouth, the hourglass beginning to give her borrowed life, stolen time. Steadily, her heart began to pump.

Thump. Thump. Thumpthumpthumpthump….

Annaliese whimpered, and hastily turned the hourglass back over, reversing the temporary magic. The sharp pain of death took her back over as breath was stolen again, her eyes flaring back to their unearthly glow. She stood, staring at the trinket, grasped tightly in her hands, panting, as if she were out of breath, where there was none. The sands of the hourglass seemed to lessen in their glow now, its magic dispensed for the day. Tucking the hourglass tightly back into the medical kit, she slammed the box shut, and put it upon the Medic’s desk, her mind humming with times now lost to her. She understood why the Medic did not use it now, and why he had sealed it away deep inside the Kit.

It took more away from life than it could ever give.

Her stomach ached now, with the need to drain life from…something. Leaving Snow with a random gem, Annaliese hurried away from the Medical Quarter to satisfy her pang of pain.

Sisters

In the Mage Tower of Stormwind, the noisy scratchings of a feathered pen disturbed the quiet of the lit hall. Scholars and instructors both left the young woman to her own devices--Charlette was often not considered pleasant company, especially recently. She wrote harshly upon the parchment, surely if it had been sentient, the paper would make known its complaint of her treatment of it. But really, she treated the paper as she treated most people: harshly and with enough attention to suit her interests.

“No, not him. Not that one…” Charlette mumbled out as she scratched out lines of names on the old file. “…bah! This isn’t even the right town…! Urgh!” With that, the parchment was crumpled up and thrown into the wastebasket. Eyeing the dimming torchlight on the wall as if it had insulted her, the mage crinkled her fingers sharply at it, dosing it with summoned fire. It flared to life, crackling in the cold air of the Tower. The woman shook her hands, threw her head back and raged at the Tower’s ceiling.

“Why?! Why, Mother? Why am I doing this?!” she cried. Which really, sounded more like a young girl, whining pitifully. Unanswered, Charlette stared for a few more moments at the ceiling, and let out a long sigh. Her amber eyes turned sharply to a dark corner of the room, and she continued her fit.

“Why don’t you say something then? You’re too quiet!”

The cat rested peacefully on its seat, the only spot of white in the darkness of the corner. A shift, and a pale hand caressed the furry body, to which it stretched out, pleased. As the cat kneaded into the lap of its owner, the figure settled into the back of her mahogany chair, almost inseparable from the unlit corner, clad in black as she was. Her voice was soft as she answered, a shadowy whisper.

“What do you wish for me to say?”

Charlette kept her scowl on her seated companion, until it faltered, and she looked as if she might cry. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest and took in an irritated breath.

“Hmph. You could offer to help me.”

“I thought you wished to carry the request out yourself?” came again, the haunting voice of the mage’s sister. Now two glowing eyes gazed at Charlette, like twin lanterns. This made the mage look away.

“Well, people are incompetent. And the scout I sent over the wall didn’t do her j--”

“You tried to send someone over the Gilnean wall…?”

“She couldn’t get over it. Useless!”

“Charlette. No one can get beyond the wall. It wont matter who you send.”

“You’d think someone from SI:7 could! What do those people train for anyway? Pickpocketing? Spying on people in their homes? How useless!”

“Hush now. Stormwind is not Dalaran, sister.”

“Well that’s obvious!”

Again, silence fell over the Mage Tower, all except for a cat’s rumbling purr. The dark figure slipped out of her seat, gently placing the cat in place of her. Charlette sighed as Annaliese stood behind her. The hood had fallen back from her head--Charlette had grown more comfortable with her sister’s apperance, and actually did not flinch now as her cold fingers lay on her shoulders, a gesture of quiet comfort.

“Mother is wrong. Quintun is lost, with father. Along with the entirety of Gilneas! I must be insane for even looking…” Charlette spoke softly, unlike her usual callous tone. She felt her sister’s hands touch her hair and cradle it, just as their mother used to do. The young mage’s coldness seemed to break down, and all in one moment, Charlette held to the cold hands that comforted her, much like a child would.

“You want to please Mother, as I’m sure you always have, Charlette. She tasked you to find me, which you have, didn’t you? Now, have a little hope like she did. Maybe our brother is alive, yes?”

Sniffles and small whimpers came from the younger sister now, until she let go of the hands, and patted her face dry. Charlette batted her sister’s fingers away shortly after, fixing her with a bleary stare.

“Stop it. I’m not a child!”

The ghost-like woman could only smile, and let her hands fall in front of her, clasping her fingers together demurely. Charlette was…many things. But to Anna now, she was a lonely, stressed young lady. She watched as the girl rose from her own chair, glancing at her.

“The correct census could have been sent to Stormwind, or Lordaeron…who knows? Probably with much of the reports scattered in between. Why don’t you ask him about the census?”

Anna smirked a bit, innocently replying, “Whom?”

Charlette blinked at her sister, and then expelled a weary groan. “You know exactly who I mean.”

“Niklos?”

“Yes. That,” was the curt, unimpressed answer.

“My husband.”

“…whatever. Yes, him.”

Anna grinned a bit now, her glowing eyes glowing subtley.

“Your brother-in-law?”

“Yes. My broth---gah! What? No! That…stop it!”

Anna’s soft laugh hovered in the Wizard’s tower, long after Charlette’s childish glare had passed. She gave her sister a gentle hug, despite the grouchy countenance.

“We’ll figure things out, Charlette. I’ll help…you just have to…ask.”

“So you’ll do what I tell you, yes?”

“Well. Under reason…”

Charlette fixed her with a serious, almost worried look.

“Stay more. With me. And…stop being a warlock.”

“…what?”

“I need your help more! With…things! And I’ll hate you forever if you’ve sworn you’re bloody soul to Kil’Jaeden or something…”

“Charlette…”

“You could become a mage. I’ll even let you share my wardenship in the Violet Hold. It’s such a noble task, suitable for a Handhour. And I wouldn’t be so ashamed of you then, being what you are. Think of what you could become!”

A sigh left the elder sister. “I don’t think I would be the greatest fit, Charlette…”

“Oh..fiddlesticks. I could train you to be competent.”

By now, Annaliese was nearly at the other end of the Tower, exiting, quite hurriedly. “I’ll be…elsewhere, sister. Call me when you need me.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the Cathedral.”

“You can’t go in there!”

“Probably not now, no. I have studies there.”

Charlette stopped mid-step, just in front of the portal.

“You’re…becoming a priest?”

“Oh yes. I hold sermons there every night.”

“…what? Every night? Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

A laugh fled Anna once again, as she slid her hood back up around her head. “You’re completely gullible, sister.”

“I…don’t like you.”

Farewells

It was quiet in the room. Too quiet. Lady Margaret Handhour of the Dalaran Council lay, prone, and still on the pristine sheets. Slender, pale fingers reached out to caress the age-worn face of the deceased lady. Warmth had long fled the mother's body, but she wore a serene expression. She had been ready for death, while her daughters had not.

Lady Handhour was cold to the touch, just as her eldest daughter now was.

"Miss? It would be wise for us to take the body now, from the bed, yes?"

Anna jumped up a bit at the sound of the gentlemanly voice behind her. She turned, closing the large hood around her face on instinct, covering her glowing eyes. Her pale lips could only be seen there as she spoke in her soft tone.

"Would be wise, yes. Forgive me, I only wished for more time with her."

The old doctor smiled sincerely, though Anna could see no more than his thick trousers, and the chubby hand which held the medical bag.

"Miss Charlette said as much too. With her permission, we may take the body to have it prepared now. I believe the papers are in order, signed? She had mentioned her assistant would have them."

Annaliese paused, momentarily confused. She stopped herself--Orcish came more naturally to her these days, and she had to rethink her words in Common.

"I...I have them on the desk. Over there. Yes," she pointed with a pale finger to the shelf of the room, where the balcony's breeze billowed the paper's gently. Posing as a human assistant of Miss Charlette Handhour was easier than explaining off her strange circumstance. Of all things, she seemed to be good at disguises after all. She watched as the old doctor procured the papers, listening to the sound of his booted feet pad along the carpeted floor. Her attention next fled to more footsteps, stepping in through the doorway of the room. Lifting her head just a bit, she found the two carried a cloth gurney, as well as a few sheets, while the old Doctor directed them.

"Take her gently now, gently," he urged, and Annaliese fought the urge to help, or rather maybe to run them off from the body. She stiffened as these feelings of rushed her. She had such little time, so little words...

"Please tell your mistress that we will take good care of her mother, miss," the Doctor now spoke, suddenly very near to her. Anna held the hood closed, her head bowed down quickly. "Y...yes. Thank you. I shall...ehm..."

The old doctor took hold of her hand, and brought it to his lips eloquently. She winced as she felt the tickling of his mustasche upon her pale fingers.

"Lady, you are so cold. Are you sure you are not taking ill? I can take a look at you..."

The slender hand recoiled from his grasp before he could finish his words. "The night has been a sorrowful, sir. And my mistress's sorrow has been mine. I am sure I will be better with some sleep, thank you."

With a pause, and rustle of papers, the old man hummed in an odd tone to himself, but his feet followed the others soon enough as the Lady's body was carried from the room. "I will await arrangement orders from the Priest, then. Good day."

Anna stood for a long moment, cloaked in her dark robes, staring down at the now empty bed. There were no tears to be had.

Only the young girl years ago, staring out of her rain-streaked window, who whispered her farewells.