She’s Gone, She’s Gone, She’s Gone Away

The stories and lives of the Grim. ((Roleplaying Stories and In Character Interactions))
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She’s Gone, She’s Gone, She’s Gone Away

Unread post by Mirathendia »

The alarm came over the speakers and prickled over Tweezle's skin as well, jolting her out of the moment as sure as if she'd been hit by lightning or an arcane blast. She pushed herself away from the orc, said, "Hold that thought," then blinked to the lift and went down to the lab.

The arcane display over the workbench confirmed Tweezle's third worst fear at that particular point in time. "Aw shit." She grabbed her hearthstone, sent a half-hearted prayer to the Makers then said, "Uh, boss?"

Silence met her inquiry and she got to work dialing in on the last few moments. Sure, spying on Mira wasn't the most upstanding thing she could've been doing, but the sin'dorei had been behaving strangely since-- well, to be honest, since before she'd gone off to Northrend, but *that* kind of honesty was a little more than Tweezle wanted to deal with and she shoved the thought away-- and Tweezle had thought it would be prudent. Just in case. Make sure Mira could be found again. Just in case. Bringing the Maw and the Shadowlands into the picture had only complicated an already complicated spell algorithm, but she'd worked out the kinks with that and--

Yeah, Mira'd been in Revendreth.

And then the Maw.
And then Northrend?

And then the Maw.

Then Revendreth again.
And then nothing.

Nothing. Nowhere.

All in a reality-bending matter of moments, at least according to Tweezle’s readings.

Tweezle turned the alarm off and shook her head. "What are you doing, Mithryl Mendypants? Better yet, how?" She muttered to herself then tried again on the hearthstone. "Hey, boss? Mira?" Still nothing. "C'mon, don't make me go all nanny on you, just pick up and let me know you didn't get eaten by a tremor beast or a vampire elf or whatever."

The hearthstone remained stubbornly silent. Nah, who was she kidding, hearthstone would be loud as anything it was *Mira* that was stubbornly silent.

Tweezle took her goggles off and set them down on the workbench, closed her eyes and rubbed her knuckles into her eyelids. She took a deep breath, traced a sigil in the air, the arcane line visible in her mind's eye as much as it would be in the air if she looked.

"Am I really gonna do this?"

"Tweezle?" The orc's husky voice came from upstairs.

"Y'wanna bring me a drink, Shoulders? I'm about to need one." Tweezle sent the lift back up then opened her eyes, looked past the glimmering sigil into the reality tear behind it.

Time twisted around Tweezle and pain shot through her head. And when she was back there in the moment, in the now, in *reality*, Shoulders nudged her arm gently. The smell of her private reserve burned in her sinuses and brought her all the way back to herself. The arcane crackle still echoed in her ears and her head, a reminder of past mistakes that were still trying to catch up with her no matter how she dodged them.

And for all of that, Tweezle didn't know anything more than she did when she started. Mira was in Revendreth, looking down into the Maw, and then she was gone.
The Grim: Mirathendia Morrowblood | Tweezle Sparkscatter | Nahmiri
Blood Moon Rising: Rilasuka | Nethendia | Nahedrie | Merralynnia
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