A soldier's bane - Arielen's death

Wyrmrest Accord
(( I've had a couple people ask me (Even people I don't know!) if Arielen is really dead. Yes, my friends, Arielen is dead. Have some sads. ))

I always entertained the idea that I would die alone in a gutter, one day and it’s because I love to overdose.

It feels so good. It’s sickeningly so much better than just a normal high.

Now, I feel…alright. I feel sleepy. I feel like I’m slipping. It’s like falling asleep whilst riding and you feel yourself slipping off your saddle and then you either wake up in a sudden jolt or you systematically straighten yourself up again.

There’s no adrenaline, this time, Lorcain. Nor is there any naxalone. You tried, dear friend.

You tried. That’s more than I got from most.

My limbs are leaden and my thoughts are just as stiff and still. My eyes are shutting all on their own. I can feel flames kissing my face as waves of warmth spill over me.

Death will come with the undertow.

Warm, quiet, comfortable.

They’ll be too ashamed to admit that I died from an overdose, no doubt. They’ll say I went down fighting. Some bloody battle out on Domination Point, something worthy of a veteran.

The whisper of a promise comes from this needle. Gone amongst the warmth and the well-being and the chaos and the motion and the-

Maybe I’ll even get a song.

I have been an assassin and a liar and a cheat and an oath-breaker and an addict and so many other things, every one worse than the last. I have killed men, women and even children. Horde, Alliance, Argent. Most of which likely didn't deserve it. The colors are so blurred.

The colors never mattered. They all bled the same.

A year ago, I was a smiling, cheerful blonde, newly enlisted, in love, so full of hope. War does things to you; things it will no longer do to me. This is warm, this is cozy, it's a death this war criminal doesn't deserve, but it's still the one I'm going to have.

"Spitfire. Sometimes, Kia, love comes and is burnt out just as quickly and all that you're left with is the acrid, burning stench that gets caught in your throat."

So, too, with people. A beautiful, blinding light and then nothing but an eerie silence that will never be filled.

I didn't tell my husband I loved him, this morning, did I?

And like I've told too many good men and women before;

"The war is over, soldier."
"The war is finally over. You can rest."
There’s no easy way to tell a child that his mother is gone. Contrary to what people might say, children understand absolutely everything and they’re notorious for being completely unpredictable with their reactions. This reaction, however, was foreseeable.


No response. He didn't used to call her his mother, always just Ari, always just Bloodwrought but now, the heart strings were pulled.

How do you tell an eight year old child his mother was an addict?

You don’t, you damn well lie.

Jarvyth gathered the young goblin up in his arms, his armor grinding and groaning in protest as he sat on the kitchen table. That once golden hair that spilled over his shoulders looked little more than dull, just blonde, really, the color of dead wheat. He looked more weary than a man in his mid-twenties should ever be allowed to be.

“She was a hero, you know? Your mother, that is. She loved you so much that she had to fight against them all the time so that the bad people wouldn’t come to get you.”

The childs small frame quaked and shook and though he would never admit it, the Paladin wept bitterly at Novec’s reaction, if only for just an instant.

He was the only one that visibly gave a !@#$. Had she stayed with the 133rd, she’d be well, she’d have been happy and off the drugs but fate was rarely kind. The only kindness she’d been offered in the last few months was that her death was painless.

How do you tell an eight year old child his mother died alone?

You don’t, and you make damn sure no one ever tells him.

“She’s still a hero, you know. She’s still fighting. She’s too stubborn to die. In that, you take after her. You’re a good kid, Novec. She loves you very, very much so that’s why she’s going to stay there; so she can protect you.”

You don’t tell an eight year old boy that his adoptive mother died alone in a gutter with a needle in her arm and peace in her mind.

“Heroes come home one day, right? The war will end.”

The paladin managed a sad, shaky smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah”, he managed to croak out after a long moment.

The real heroes didn’t come back and their corpses were burned in pits with hundreds of others.

The letters remained unsent, the will would never be carried out. Few would think she was even dead in the first place. There was too much speculation, too many idle whispers among the Peninsula’s regulars that now fought at Domination Point of how the fight never ended for the PTSD afflicted veterans of Tol Barad and never ever would. Soldiers that never ate, never rested and whose war cries were heard above those of all the others. Maybe you’d see one sharpening a blade or saddling their Worg but they never headed back home.

Legionnaire Arielen Bloodwrought would forever belong to the Horde that never learned how to die.
((But never can one such as you DIE! You were so nice to me even when I annoyed the hell out of you for the BMC.. NOOOOO!!! *dramatic fall to his knees... Awww.. *Starts sobbing small water elementals.**))
((Of course, Tikky would never hear of this IC, but in a mix of IC and OOC...))

Inside Tikky's well-lit apartment, she is busy making a few pastries, humming a nice little song as she creates. Suddenly, she stops, and seems alert to something, but nothing special is going on. She goes to the sink and washes her hands, wipes them dry on her apron, and goes in a room. She comes back out with a little white candle, sets it on her window sill, and lights it up, for no apparent reason. Even she does not know why. She looks at the candle, and nods. Somehow, it just feels like the right thing to do.
12/10/2012 12:43 PMPosted by Dyrwolfe
*Starts sobbing small water elementals.**
That sounds horrendous. ))
An elf, dead in a gutter? And she's a veteran, you say?

Score one for the good guys.
An elf, dead in a gutter? And she's a veteran, you say?

Score one for the good guys.

Restless infantry comes out of nowhere and knifes Ziras in the face.
I will miss barking at Airelen in the few and varied times I found her in places.
(( This roleplay makes me sad. :`( ))

12/10/2012 12:43 PMPosted by Dyrwolfe
*Starts sobbing small water elementals.**

That sounds horrendous. ))

((It is, it hurts so much knowing some one who had the care to tell me to knock it off dies.. hehe, Your character will be missed. Please hit me up.. when i get on sparingly now..))
This makes me sad.
Are we positively sure the val'kyr can only raise humans?
little do they know it was I who slained the white octopussy whale
Even though it was sad :( , it was a nice read.


k moved on
12/10/2012 03:59 PMPosted by Asharrí
Even though it was sad :( , it was a nice read.


poor airy-land!

but good words, lady!
(( This was a fantastic read and was made even more awesome by the fact that I was listening to Diamond Eyes by Deftones when I found it. Thank you. ))
(( Considering I just put my grandfather to rest today, this hit home... :( He's no longer with the waking world for far different reasons... but it hit home.))
This was very well written. From only remembering Arielen from when she was freshly recruited (and into my squad! Do I need to feel guilty? You were always so cheerful!), it saddens me to see how hard she has fallen. But you really captured how the war can drag someone down, no matter who they were.
I gave you help once on your transmog.

I saw you post in the forums a lot.

I saw your Monk heals on Galleon occasionally.

Yet I never met you ICly.

This is great tragedy.

Tips hat.

(That and I am slightly jealous of the name.)

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