Netherbane: Returns, Part V
This morning we bring you Part V of Netherbane: Returns. This one brings Vasedra, formerly known as Sedrai, back to Azeroth after time off-world.
Read MoreFiltering by Tag: val'sharah
Gearing Up
"These?"
Ary looks at the full, heavy boots and wrinkles her nose. "Isn't there something... lighter?"
"Ary, if you buy sandals, you may as well just go barefoot, again. Boots." Sedra sighs.
"They make my feet hot and my toes feel constricted." She reluctantly takes one boot from Sedra's grasp looking at it. "What about a normal shoe or slipper?"
Now it's Sedra's turn to wrinkle her nose, the expression a little more hidden under her cowl. Making an exasperated sound in the back of her throat, she looks around the shop's wares once more and wanders a few steps away to look at a shelf of shoes.
"No slippers. Useless things, those fabric footwraps..." She sighs and picks up a pair of sturdy shoes, really low ankle boots in a light leather save hardened and shined toes. Though she gives them a bit of a dirty look, she holds them up to Ary. "These might still save your fleshy bits."
Revenant Bound - Chapter 1: Rendezvous
Sedra sits in the lee of a rock, watching the quiet surf of the lazy night ocean slide in and out over the sand, washing away the cloven hoofprints left behind by her earlier pacing. The grooves fill with water on each surge and soften with each recession. Fill and blur. Fill and blur. Fill and blur...
It reminds her of something vague, something thrumming from her heart, and as the sound of the ocean against the rock fills her ears, her gaze grows unfocused and her head lolls back against the curve of the boulder, the false-lit blue of her eyes beneath her cowl slipping up to the star-filled sky, unseeing.
Revenant Bound - Prologue: Keeping Promises
In that area, the halls of the Soul Cleaver were as silent and still as the grave. Appropriate, since these particular ones were a grave in truth, still home to a few drying carcasses of the Atrium's former denizens: the ones that had been too weak or too injured in the crash to escape their damaged cells.
Vasedra had known their names. From her Belmun self, she had crafted together a habitat for them, for all of the collection, and ... adored them in her own way. Sentient, intelligent pets. Children, half-loved at best.
The void knight could still remember the feel of the mucus that had drenched her human hands when the vozaksian had first hatched. Disgusting. Fascinating. The corpse in the cell at her back had been the last of her kind, and Sedra's Belmun self had been the last creature in all of existence to experience one's hatching.
A memory, now. Rot and entropy. Decay, like the King in the mad shrine to Raeisley's slug.