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[Rhianon] The Unseen Price

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She walked the halls like they were a never-ending maze, step stretching after step and her hooves turning back on her own trail once she reached the wall at the far end. Guards and servants passed her, lost in their own duties, but she could feel their questioning gaze. 

Where was she going? Why didn’t she stop?

[Gilberte] On the Homefront

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Gilly’s eyes flew open. Had she been asleep? She looked around; she was stretched out on their bed, several pillows propped up behind her head and a comforter casually draped over her body. Gilly shook her head as if to shake her thoughts loose. She didn’t remember falling asleep…


[Rhianon] Drifting

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For awhile, she felt like she was drifting. The sleeping draught the garrison alchemist mixed up muddled her mind at first and finally sent her flying into a misty expanse of stars and sky. A dream, maybe.

Or maybe a nightmare.

[Gilberte] Wild: The Leslie Brenton Story

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After finally cajoling Annelise into slumber with almost an hour’s worth of stories about Yogi the cat’s adventures in Daddy’s garrison, Gilly slunk back to her own bed and its own little cocoon of blankets. Ordinarily, she would have preferred a bubble bath with a nice glass of red wine on the side, but the winter climes made even heated baths somewhat less than comfortable and even worse, there was no Llane around to tease. So, instead, she poured herself a glass of warm cider and piled herself into the blankets.

[Saphra] Morning Again

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Saphra never wanted to wake up.

[Quincy] Quincy's Dastardly Plan

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Quincy hated Draenor.

Furthermore, he hated Sir Sour-Face’s garrison which (unsurprisingly enough) was chock-filled with stupid people who seemed to worship the ground Sir Sour-Face walked on. “The Commander said” this and “the Commander wants” that

Quincy couldn’t stand it. Well, more specifically, he couldn’t stand a very particular fact about his new life in this Sir Sour-Face-loving garrison.

[Rhianon] Encounter

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The voices of Auchindoun were so silent. It was a funny thing to say, Rhianon thought, when the place itself was awash with fighting and terror - but it was the truth. She had walked the perimeter of Auchindoun each morning since settling on this Draenor, hoping to touch whatever lay within its depths - ancient spirits, the wisdom of her people, memories. Yet, each morning she had been denied. The spirits were in hiding and the place was quiet.

[Saphra] Crash

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It had been easy to slip out of the makeshift infirmary despite the ever-watchful eyes of the healers. She had a talent for escape, that much she had learned from her slowly returning memories. The oldest ones, the ones that ought to have been the most shadowed, were starting to reform in her mind now like splotches of clouds coming together before a storm. She could remember now -- remember! -- many similar flights out into the wilds despite her brother’s commands. She could see him too: proud and tall, eyes that rarely flashed with emotion. He scolded her for being too open with her feelings and being too forward with others. He punished her for running away from their settlements even though she always tried to explain herself. Yet she remembered loving him. The words ran through her mind - I love him even though he doesn’t understand me.

One day he will.

[Saphra] Awakening

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Those first days were some kind of waking dream to her; above the rush of her fevered mind, she could hear the murmur of voices and feel the prickly weight of blankets upon her slight form. She knew she was somewhere - but where? The name Elodor flitted through her head like a moth only to incinerate in another burst of fever. It was an odd sensation. She was distantly aware of the ministrations of the healers but she felt removed from it all, much like a ghost among the living. Her only solace was when the darkness would take her again and the discomforting feeling of being and yet not being faded into oblivion.

[Rhianon] Solitude

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The Exodar was oddly normal despite the happenings in the outside world. Merchants, civilians, Vindicators - everyone, really - were all going about their business as if nothing had changed.

[Rhianon] The End of All Things

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Rhianon sat on the railing of one of the pagodas surrounding the White Tiger’s temple, staring off into the snow-tossed distance. She was tired of it all. The yelling, the shouting, the arguing - day after day of talk that just seemed to stretch on forever. She wasn’t sure what the trial would offer to Garrosh’s victims, even if he was ultimately found guilty...any more than she was sure what his death back in Orgrimmar would have brought them. Vengeance wouldn’t bring closure. Justice couldn’t bring closure. Nothing really could, actually. Closure was something more imagined than real. Everyone always seemed to think that there was one thing, some act, that could bring them peace, but in reality, all anyone could ever do was keep going and hope that eventually the wounds would heal - whether by time or something else that dulled the suffering.

Saphra of Draenor

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[Ludovik] The Fifth Day

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What Ludovik remembered about the Matron was her smell: smoky, but sweet like one of the spindly flowers growing around the gangly wreckage of their fortress.

[Ludovik] Women's Work?

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Ludovik knew scenes like this all too well: shattered bits of crystal, tables overturned, a patch of now-dry blood on the floor.

[Gilberte] Peacetime

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Gilly was attempting to make pancakes.