Ashagga was dressed in white linen when the blood elf brought her body into the Grim guildhall, pants and a shirt. She had never liked the way she looked in a dress. Her eyes were closed, both of them, and her face showed a sincere, solemn peace that it had never known while she was alive.
Ignoring those gathered around, the elf laid her gently on the main table in the guildhall, slender hand brushing a strand of her hair off her bloodless face. He sighed softly and turned, departing without a word.
Chingaso sat quietly across the room, finally stirring, gathering his things quitely and leaving the guild hall.
Outside, he roared at the sky. He roared at the injustice. Memories of his dead family filled his head. The image of his missing sister. And now, the surrogate sister he had come to love as his blood was gone. Not knocked out of the battle, awaiting the graces of the Spirit Healer, but gone. Like his parents. Like all but one of his younger siblings.
He wanted to hurt something, someone. He thought of Ashagga's old landlord, but remembered that he had long since been dealt with. He thought of Corian, who had so casually discarded her affections...
Instead, he made his way to the World's End in Shattrah's lower city. His goal was to drink the entire stock of rum before the supplier arrived with restock.
*******
Some 14 hours later, a very distressed Gor'vena enters the inn and looks about somewhat frantically. Spying a large red wolf near the back corner, she walks to the table that hosts the current state that is her cousin.
"Chingaso! Omigawd! We have totally been looking everywhere for you! Just what in Hellfire do you like think you're doing and stuff? Orugasa is totally worried sick!"
Chingaso peers blearily through his rum-soaked haze. "Cousin? What say? Why disturb Chingaso?"
Gor'vena resists the urge to beat him senseless, noting the redundency, and leans in very close. "Omigawd! You selfish jerk! Do you totally think you are like the only one who's upset? Do you?!?"
Chingaso glares at Gor'vena and erupts. "And what cousin know of upset? Cousin still have family. Cousin have sisters. Cousin have parents. Gor'vena leave now before Chingaso forget how much care for."
Gor'vena reacts to the tirade as if slapped. "Fine. But I am totally telling Orugasa that I found you. She'll be here to straighten you out, for sure!"
Ashagga Wolfskin: Aftermath by Gorvena
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Re: Ashagga Wolfskin: Aftermath by Gorvena
by Yichimet
When Ashagga was carried in, dressed in strange white clothes and colorless in her face, Yichimet stood at the back of the room. Others blustered their apathy, or wept for losing a fellow hunter, but Yichimet stood at the back of the room and did not move.
He looked at the small, muscled body long and deeply. If she had been shu'halo, Yichimet would have taken her to bed, such was her Spirit, so ferocious and wise. He thought of how distant they had been these past months, after the battle over the Tyrant's blade and all that had happened in the Hillsbrad of past.
He went outside, intent on being alone, and built a large fire. He spent the night weaving dreamcatchers, countless dreamcatchers, remembering how she looked bleeding and hanging from the tree in Felwood.
When Ashagga was carried in, dressed in strange white clothes and colorless in her face, Yichimet stood at the back of the room. Others blustered their apathy, or wept for losing a fellow hunter, but Yichimet stood at the back of the room and did not move.
He looked at the small, muscled body long and deeply. If she had been shu'halo, Yichimet would have taken her to bed, such was her Spirit, so ferocious and wise. He thought of how distant they had been these past months, after the battle over the Tyrant's blade and all that had happened in the Hillsbrad of past.
He went outside, intent on being alone, and built a large fire. He spent the night weaving dreamcatchers, countless dreamcatchers, remembering how she looked bleeding and hanging from the tree in Felwood.
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Re: Ashagga Wolfskin: Aftermath by Gorvena
by Qabian
Qabian watched in silence as she was carried in. He already had enough reasons to hate the Bronze Dragonflight. He hadn't particularly been looking for more.
He scowled from the shadows at her inert form, neither apathetic, nor overtly mourning, but quite clearly concerned. She had been one of the few he...
There would be time. Plenty of time. He would wrench it from their claws himself in the moments before everything came to an end.
Qabian watched in silence as she was carried in. He already had enough reasons to hate the Bronze Dragonflight. He hadn't particularly been looking for more.
He scowled from the shadows at her inert form, neither apathetic, nor overtly mourning, but quite clearly concerned. She had been one of the few he...
There would be time. Plenty of time. He would wrench it from their claws himself in the moments before everything came to an end.
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Keeper Of Lore
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Re: Ashagga Wolfskin: Aftermath by Gorvena
by Gor'rean
Gor'raen walked slowly through the streets of Orgrimmar, the dry desert wind stirring locks of her black hair and setting the tiny metal beads that decorated them to jingling merrily and the small feathers to dancing. It was her first trip to the city, and ordinarily she would have been overwhelmed by the sheer size of it, by all the strange manner of peoples who crossed her path, by the thrill of being in the great Thrall's own city. Today, though, the young shaman's heart was heavy, and her eyes were filled with sorrow.
She sat on her mother's lap, resting her head against the bony shoulder and staring into nothingness with dull, lifeless eyes. This time, she wouldn't obey. It was a promise she made to herself over and over again, but always broke when her father's eyes filled with tears. The orc girl reached out with a too-thin arm and brushed Biggon's shoulder lightly. He's getting small, like me. His body is shrinking to match his spirit.
Gor'raen didn't look up when she heard the door to the long house creak open. Is it time already? They were usually given their bread at night, and it was only early afternoon. The footsteps approached her parents, and stopped only a few feet away. She heard the guard swallow, a choking sound, thunderous in the otherwise silent house. No one had moved to him to get their bread. He's just staring at us. Gor'raen raised her head and looked at him.
It wasn't a guard.
It wasn't a man.
It wasn't human.
She looked without seeing, heard without listening, walked without even knowing where she was going. She only knew that They would guide her. Why now? she thought angrily. Why not before? Her feet scuffed over the stones.
She had never seen one like him before. He looked like a human, but he wasn't one. His eyes were too wise, his Spirit was too old. It wasn't right - he was trapped! In her mind, she reached out to him, not caring that she was only five years old, only knowing that she must help him. He was looking at her, and she could feel his heart break like a physical blow.
Then he spoke her sister's name.
She didn't bother knocking, but instead pushed open the door to the hall. Inside, a fire burned in the hearth and the red-and-black banner decorated the mantlepiece. She saw only the fire, and the banner, and the body she had come to see.
Ashagga didn't hear him, or maybe she just didn't care. The not-human stood and gazed at her for a long time - it seemed like hours. Finally, he turned back to Gor'raen and their parents and reached into a satchel slung over his shoulder. None of the other orcs seemed to notice him as he drew forth a linen-wrapped bundle and stooped, placing it on the floor at her papa's bare feet. He didn't say anything, but looked once more at Gor'raen, then at Ashagga, before turning and walking slowly from the long house.
Gor'raen approached the table slowly, a lump rising in her throat as she saw Ashagga lying there, dressed in white linen. She remembered the giggle-fits - all too few - the hand games they played, the dressing of each other's hair with the feathers that drifted down from the birds that flew over the internment camp. Her twin's face was the first mirror she had ever seen, the only one she thought she would ever need.
Biggon frowned down at the bundle, but Gor'raen jumped off Takasa's lap and snatched it up with her skinny arms. "Don't worry, Papa." She knew the stranger's heart, even though she was only five. She knew. Unwrapping the bundle, her eyes grew as big as the sun and the moon when she saw what it contained. Bread. Meat. Cheese. And all of it was fresh.
Her papa's mouth fell open, and he reached for the food, breaking off a piece of bread and handing it to Takasa. She took it wearily and began to eat as he broke off another piece. "Eat this, Gor'raen, and take this to your sister." He gave her two big pieces of bread and two pieces of the cheese, then wrapped the bundle and tucked it between Takasa and himself.
This time, she wouldn't obey.
"She can have mine, Papa. You need to eat too." She took Ashagga's share and walked to her twin where she stood, staring blankly out the window. "Shaggy," she whispered.
"Gor'raen." Biggon's voice was weak. She could hear it cracking as it always did when he pleaded with her.
She shook her head and didn't look back. She wouldn't see him cry again, or she would obey him. "No, Papa."
Ashagga turned her head and looked at her sister. Gor'raen handed the food to Ashagga, who took it gratefully. "He wants to help us. He'll help you." Gor'raen smiled bravely at her sister as she ate and stood with her, looking out the window at the back of the stranger as he departed.
Gor'raen rested her hand on her sister's pale forehead, stroking her reddish hair tenderly. After a long moment, she reached up into her own hair - dark, not red, the only difference between them - and began to unbraid one of the feathers that decorated the black locks. Once it was freed, she gathered up several wiry strands of Ashagga's hair and began to weave them into a plait, adding the feather after it was halfway done. The braid finished, Gor'raen sighed heavily and lowered herself into a chair beside her sister's body, resting her hand once again on Ashagga's forehead.
Night fell over the internment camp, and the moon rose full and bright. Gor'raen and Ashagga lay tucked between their parents, each twin wrapping the other with her skinny arms, and fell into dreamless sleep.
Gor'raen walked slowly through the streets of Orgrimmar, the dry desert wind stirring locks of her black hair and setting the tiny metal beads that decorated them to jingling merrily and the small feathers to dancing. It was her first trip to the city, and ordinarily she would have been overwhelmed by the sheer size of it, by all the strange manner of peoples who crossed her path, by the thrill of being in the great Thrall's own city. Today, though, the young shaman's heart was heavy, and her eyes were filled with sorrow.
She sat on her mother's lap, resting her head against the bony shoulder and staring into nothingness with dull, lifeless eyes. This time, she wouldn't obey. It was a promise she made to herself over and over again, but always broke when her father's eyes filled with tears. The orc girl reached out with a too-thin arm and brushed Biggon's shoulder lightly. He's getting small, like me. His body is shrinking to match his spirit.
Gor'raen didn't look up when she heard the door to the long house creak open. Is it time already? They were usually given their bread at night, and it was only early afternoon. The footsteps approached her parents, and stopped only a few feet away. She heard the guard swallow, a choking sound, thunderous in the otherwise silent house. No one had moved to him to get their bread. He's just staring at us. Gor'raen raised her head and looked at him.
It wasn't a guard.
It wasn't a man.
It wasn't human.
She looked without seeing, heard without listening, walked without even knowing where she was going. She only knew that They would guide her. Why now? she thought angrily. Why not before? Her feet scuffed over the stones.
She had never seen one like him before. He looked like a human, but he wasn't one. His eyes were too wise, his Spirit was too old. It wasn't right - he was trapped! In her mind, she reached out to him, not caring that she was only five years old, only knowing that she must help him. He was looking at her, and she could feel his heart break like a physical blow.
Then he spoke her sister's name.
She didn't bother knocking, but instead pushed open the door to the hall. Inside, a fire burned in the hearth and the red-and-black banner decorated the mantlepiece. She saw only the fire, and the banner, and the body she had come to see.
Ashagga didn't hear him, or maybe she just didn't care. The not-human stood and gazed at her for a long time - it seemed like hours. Finally, he turned back to Gor'raen and their parents and reached into a satchel slung over his shoulder. None of the other orcs seemed to notice him as he drew forth a linen-wrapped bundle and stooped, placing it on the floor at her papa's bare feet. He didn't say anything, but looked once more at Gor'raen, then at Ashagga, before turning and walking slowly from the long house.
Gor'raen approached the table slowly, a lump rising in her throat as she saw Ashagga lying there, dressed in white linen. She remembered the giggle-fits - all too few - the hand games they played, the dressing of each other's hair with the feathers that drifted down from the birds that flew over the internment camp. Her twin's face was the first mirror she had ever seen, the only one she thought she would ever need.
Biggon frowned down at the bundle, but Gor'raen jumped off Takasa's lap and snatched it up with her skinny arms. "Don't worry, Papa." She knew the stranger's heart, even though she was only five. She knew. Unwrapping the bundle, her eyes grew as big as the sun and the moon when she saw what it contained. Bread. Meat. Cheese. And all of it was fresh.
Her papa's mouth fell open, and he reached for the food, breaking off a piece of bread and handing it to Takasa. She took it wearily and began to eat as he broke off another piece. "Eat this, Gor'raen, and take this to your sister." He gave her two big pieces of bread and two pieces of the cheese, then wrapped the bundle and tucked it between Takasa and himself.
This time, she wouldn't obey.
"She can have mine, Papa. You need to eat too." She took Ashagga's share and walked to her twin where she stood, staring blankly out the window. "Shaggy," she whispered.
"Gor'raen." Biggon's voice was weak. She could hear it cracking as it always did when he pleaded with her.
She shook her head and didn't look back. She wouldn't see him cry again, or she would obey him. "No, Papa."
Ashagga turned her head and looked at her sister. Gor'raen handed the food to Ashagga, who took it gratefully. "He wants to help us. He'll help you." Gor'raen smiled bravely at her sister as she ate and stood with her, looking out the window at the back of the stranger as he departed.
Gor'raen rested her hand on her sister's pale forehead, stroking her reddish hair tenderly. After a long moment, she reached up into her own hair - dark, not red, the only difference between them - and began to unbraid one of the feathers that decorated the black locks. Once it was freed, she gathered up several wiry strands of Ashagga's hair and began to weave them into a plait, adding the feather after it was halfway done. The braid finished, Gor'raen sighed heavily and lowered herself into a chair beside her sister's body, resting her hand once again on Ashagga's forehead.
Night fell over the internment camp, and the moon rose full and bright. Gor'raen and Ashagga lay tucked between their parents, each twin wrapping the other with her skinny arms, and fell into dreamless sleep.