((Hello everyone! I posted this on my main blog, but I thought I’d post it here as well. I’m looking to RP Altherei a bit more, but my biggest issue is I’m not the best at meeting people outside of the guild I’m in on Tezuli.
SO! I’d love to set up some RPs in the future with you folks!
*A brief little caveat though, I do main my trolls, so my activity on Alth can be sporadic. But that’s why I encourage folks to add Tezuli, so if they wanna RP and I’m not on Alth I can potentially pop over.
Please drop me an ask if this sounds like fun! :D))
((Yes, I’m signal boosting my own post, because I have way more followers than my new little sideblog, ahahaha.))
Sometimes, Len just wanted to punch everyone in the face. Especially recently. He found that the longer he used the notebook to communicate, the more quickly he angered. The more quickly he began to fidget or grow anxious. He’d discovered triggers he didn’t realize he had.
People misgendered him. Often. He looked feminine enough, so perhaps it was understandable, but nothing got under his skin more quickly than be repeatedly called ‘she’ or worse, ‘it.’ He was neither. He was he, and sometimes even that felt off, somehow. But to be called ‘it’? Truly? It made his skin crawl, and he wanted to punch the next person to use ‘it’ to describe him.
Another was high-and-mighty anyones. Crusaders, Magisters.. but Crusaders especially, considering he worked to be in their ranks because he was so off-put by Blooders. But it seemed that, no matter where he went, or who he met… there were always people who would get under his skin.
He found himself repeating a new mantra over and over and over: Relax. Relax. Relax. Anxiety was becoming all too common now - first it was a fear of the dark. Then it was a fear of a knife being sharpened or drawn. The fear of being stalked, misgendered, everything seemed to be rearing its ugly head, and there was no time that he felt more alone than when he tried to fight it off before sleeping.
Where was Aleks? Where was Reliros? The two people he felt closest to were so scarce they were beginning to feel less like close friends and more like strangers every day. Would he lose them, too? Anxiety took hold of him, chewing at his every thought as he slipped himself under the covers, lulling himself to sleep with the same word, over and over.
People died every day. It wasn’t anything new, and Len had never really tried to stop it, unless it was the death of one of his own friends. It was natural, nothing to be afraid of, right?
One well-placed slice to the throat changed his opinion instantly.
He felt his own blood flow, and his mind raced. He didn’t do anything wrong — who was this rogue - these rogues, two of them?! Why were they were — what had they wanted? Gold? He didn’t know where it was, he’d never been to Stranglethorn… he could feel Aleks behind him, supporting him and doing his damnedest to heal him. How was he so unflappable when his lover’s blood was spilling over both their hands?! And nevermind the damn warlock, severing his soul and thinking he was helping.
His mind raced, and suddenly.. it stopped. Or was it his heart? It must’ve been both, because before he knew it, he was staring at himself, crumpled agains Aleks. Blood was all over his hands, his chest, Aleks’s hands, and what did he do? Was he supposed to just… walk back into his body? The worst that could happen was nothing.. right?
So he did. He did, and the first emotion he felt was fear. Pure, untamable fear. His hands held his throat firmly, deathly afraid he’d bleed out if he didn’t keep them there. He tried to speak, but all sounds save for high-pitched wheezing died in his broken vocal chords. Oh Light, was he mute now? He was alive, and death had been but a few moments for him.. but he saw his body.
He saw his own body, and he felt his own life slip from him. He’d never felt such fear of losing his own life. Never had he felt anything quite so terrifying as his own life spilling over his fingers. He was fine now, despite the fear and the loss of his voice, but… he was shaken.
Death had claimed him once, now. He was terrified to think it could try again at any moment to claim him once more.
"You look way different than when I saw you before… a lot more…" Linesta had begun, and Len finished her sentence with the word he suspected came next.
It wasn’t easy those many, many months ago, truly accepting the fact that despite his female plumbing, he was a man trapped in a woman’s body. He did accept it, though, and he began to live it. But then just last week, he woke up, looked at his reflection in a nearby mirror, and was hit with the last thought he’d expected:
<I feel like a woman today.>
It was the quickest way to ruin his day, and he spent the better part of it grumpier than a sober dwarf lacking alcohol. No.. he was a man. He’d always been a man, so why, then..? Why suddenly this feeling of being a woman? And then there had been days when he looked at himself and thought ‘both’ or ‘neither.’
What the fuck was he?! He was some gender-fucked paladin in a tin can of blue armor, carrying a war axe half his size and twice his width. He had a name that he went by, but was it his anymore? Was it only his ‘male’ name? Who was he? What was he? He had gone and bleached his rust-colored hair blonde after letting it grow out, and he found that he liked it.
But.. it was so feminine. Feminine wasn’t bad, but.. he was a man, wasn’t he? Or was he a woman now…? Both? Neither.. a mix of the two?
Fuck if he knew.
She saw him while wandering Silvermoon on errands, and her heart leapt straight into her throat. Alth hadn’t seen him in about half a week, and given the nature of their last conversation, it felt far longer. The days didn’t blur together, instead dragging on in achingly slow increments until that moment, by pure chance, she saw him in the city.
The conversation flowed awkwardly, and she debated leaving several times. Perhaps she’d said too much before, and he had to let her down. Perhaps he didn’t want her to begin with. Perhaps he still needed time. She felt so in limbo, and there were few things to her as frightening right now as knowing that Renik had her heart, and could just as easily toss it aside if he didn’t want to give his to her. But then he spoke something that made her feel as though the wind had been sucked from her lungs.
"Guess I wasn’t as good at letting you go as I figured.."
Saelathuri couldn’t explain this growing fascination bubbling up inside her. It had sparked seeing her old friends again in Stranglethorn, and despite what some other elves might call her better judgement, the young huntress simply could not stop reading about trolls. She had to learn more; discover more. She was always curious, but something about this race piqued her interest in a way that she hadn’t expected.
Learning their history, their Loa, their customs (or what she could find of them), their language.. something about it felt right to her. As if there were little missing pieces of herself that, while she couldn’t find all of them, reading these books.. seemed to fill some of those little pieces in. Maybe it was the pregnancy talking, but it couldn’t hurt to learn more, right..?
Perhaps she’d be writing a letter to Da’ae sooner than she’d expected.
It was a lonely evening. The past few evenings had been this way, and Altherei had almost gotten used to it. Almost — except that this loneliness pierced her far deeper and left more of a sting than what she’d let herself grown accustomed to. It kept her up, plaguing her thoughts and causing her to toss and turn when she would rather be sleeping. As much as she hated herself for it, her only comfort was to shed tears. But no one was around to see them, so perhaps it didn’t make much of a difference.
She didn’t think she’d feel this comfortable with someone again. She didn’t think that she’d be so spontaneous or close to someone again as she had with Renik that afternoon. Now, though, now she didn’t know what to think.
Just yesterday she’d been so worn out from her nightmares that she fell asleep in his lap, in the middle of the Court of the Sun no less. Granted it was only twenty minutes, but the fact that he even let her rest her head in his lap was surprising to her. She had felt his fingers idly toying with her hair, and before she drifted off she could’ve sworn she heard him singing something, if not humming. It was a curious thing, and yet she found she didn’t mind it at all.
((Drabble number two~! This one is “silence”~.))
As long as she could remember, Altherei had a decent relationship with silence. It had comforted her, scared her witless, left her feeling empty, and given her room to think… many, many things. Silence was a multi-faceted thing to her, and over the past few months, she’d become well acquainted with it, though in a way that she hadn’t initially planned.
Altherei barely remembered the last time she felt this type of anxiousness. Her stomach was doing flips, her head was spinning, and she felt so ridiculously foolish she was almost laughing at herself. She had dug through her closet to find something nice to wear, realizing that she really didn’t have many formal outfits. She wondered, silently, if that was something she’d have to fix down the line.
Tonight, for the first time in what felt like a while, she had a date… of sorts. She wasn’t sure quite what to call it other than the term Xyh had used. He was a gentleman, this warrior, and he seemed to have taken quite a shine to her.
Okay, well, perhaps more than a shine.