Current Events in RP!

**Thanks to Ghaar, who reminds me that I am indeed missing something... a super sekrit plot involving Astrani, the brickwit troll. However, part of being sekrit means I'm not spilling any details! Neener!

I have several long story arcs in the works for two of my characters. It's slow work and I am lazy, so it's just being pieced together in spurts and I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to finish them, let alone do them justice. I'm going to try, though!

Since it's hard to keep track of everything, I'm just gonna post what's happening with each of my active characters and what sort of project to expect from them.

• A slim file, obviously new, and containing extremely sparse information on one Adelaide "Skulley" Skelton now sits on Agent Jeremiah Newhall's desk.
• After narrowly avoiding a run-in with Booty Bay guards, Skulley is taking a breather before her next big job... a hunt for CURSED TROLL TREASURE! Yarr. Does she know it's cursed? Not yet!
• Unbeknownst to Skulley, an account of her life as Adelaide is being constructed by a certain ham-fisted wielder of words. Don't worry, it's a very happy story. Up until everyone dies.

• After class one evening, Thiyenn eats a massive meal of banana bread, goat cheese, pickles, chocolate cake and an entire jar of mustard. This leads to a very public heaving of guts and embarrassing revelation to nearly half of her friends, teachers and academic peers that didn't already know or guess that she was pregnant.
• Professor Arrens Caltrains, the headmaster of Stormwind University, is skilled in shoving his foot in his mouth. When he asked where her husband was, Thiyenn lied. Apparently the nuances of her relationship with the father of her child and his current whereabouts aren't meant to be discussed in front of half of the student body (and the professor's bride-to-be).
• But hey, Thiyenn now has a Super Special Job, that being the crafting of Miss Aely's wedding dress. Take THAT, Delion!
• Having been encouraged by an instructor to improve her writing (and more importantly, handwriting--she prints no better than a child), Thiyenn has taken up the task of putting down what she remembers about growing up with the Darkmoon tribe. It's good for taking her mind off more recent events. It's also her first foray into introspection, so I expect some personal conflict.

• Libby, the Rainsinger, is engaged (!) to elf (!) hunter Fenniel (!!), the original geeky belf hunter. They are getting married (!) in a ceremony (!) in Mulgore this May. Firael has been roped into the role of Best Man and will be sporting some fashionable tribal garb (read: leather straps). Oops, I forgot to (!) that.

• On the verge of a breakthrough in eye replacement technology, Ysani has put on the weight she lost during her Haydren-terror phase, mostly due to sitting around working on projects all day with Firael and Fenniel, the wonder twins.
• It's been a while since there was a frenzy of speculation on the particulars of Yissy's relationship with Firael, however, several members of the PoL tease her privately. She is adamant on the point that they are Just Friends, and, in fact, everything seems to be quite fine with her and Keilos.
• Dir creeps her the hell out. Quit staring at her tits, already!
• Where the hell IS Haydren, anyway? God only knows what sort of terrible things he's planning. One hopes he's given up, but I think we all know that's not the case.

• Ambika is readjusting to her life as a troll and seems pleased with that particular development, but grows increasingly distant. Her quest to gain more power, as far as she's concerned, has yielded paltry gains; this may lead her to new and dangerous paths as the world moves on.

• Sergeant Harker has traded the relentless heat of Hellfire for the chill winds of the North and oh MAN is she pissed. Her attitude leaves something to be desired, but she's working hard (and dressing warm), which gets her at least a modicum of respect from her peers and superiors. Something exceedingly strange happened to her the other night, perhaps she'll tell us about it soon...?

I've got a lot on my plate, certainly, and I really need to learn to stop biting off more than I can chew. Here's hoping that all these and more will get proper documentation. Did I miss anything?

[RP] An Involuntary Reassignment [PG-13]

Staying up all night with the writing bug: not always a good idea, especially on a school night, but what can you do?

___________________________________________________________

"I respectfully decline, sir."

Late summer in the Outlands, such as it was, always brought sticky-hot temperatures to Hellfire Peninsula (there are only three seasons in Hellfire, as the old saying goes: summer, late summer, and son-of-a-bitch), and the barracks at Honor Hold were sweltering. Lieutenant-Commander Rowsell raked a hand through his hair (these days far more salt than pepper), sweat forming it into wild peaks that, when paired with the look of woeful exasperation stamped on his typically dignified features, made him look as unsettled and pissed-off as she felt.

"You can't decline. The paperwork's done. You've been promoted." He dropped a thick sheaf of parchment on his desk to illustrate. The top sheet was heavy, embossed with the seal of Stormwind and signed by both the acting field marshal and Force Commander Trollbane.

"That's shit."

"Sergeant Harker--"

"Corporal Harker, sir."

His lips disappeared, pressed into the thin white line she knew and hated. Standing, he planted his hands on his broad, immaculately-polished desk and leaned forward, dropping his voice to a low rumble. "Shut the door."

Crossing the office with purpose, Brijania locked the door behind her, killing the light draft that was the room's only source of relief from the choking heat. She snapped back to attention before him, her blonde hair dark and matted with sweat, undershirt stuck miserably to her body. For the first time in eight years she disregarded his gesture, the extended open palm that had been their signal that she could come forward and be frank, even intimate. She may as well have slapped him. When he was distressed, she noted, he actually looked his age.

Old, even.

"Bri. Don't be like that."

"Easy for you to say," she spat, trembling with rage and something else she couldn't or wouldn't identify. "You're not the one takin' the 'needs o' the Kingdom' right up the arse."

"You've been a corporal for over a decade, Bri. You're fast approaching the point where the powers that be take offense to a terminal lack of motivation."

"Funny that, you didn't seem to give two shits when you were fucking me."

"For the love of the Light, Bri, keep your voice down." Rowsell held his breath and listened for footsteps, the rustle of clothing, anything that might betray an unsolicited ear.

As far as he knew, everyone in the administrative wing and most everyone else on regular duty was released early for the midday heat. Only a skeleton crew remained on the noon watch, a duty for which buck privates and corporals, the workhorses of the post-Sargeras era, drew short straws, bartering and gambling them away at every opportunity. Still, a patrol might wander by and catch enough to start a wildfire of gossip and a fraternization suit that would make last year's infidelity scandal look like child's play. In that case, the logistics officer and his assistant had gotten off with a slap on the wrist and a minor reassignment. This was a bit more complicated.

"I've worked my arse off for you, spare me your fuckin' motivation. You said keepin' low would protect me. You said you'd protect me, no matter what. And stop calling me that." Her chest heaved, and she realized a little too late that she was about to cry. He must have seen it in her face, because he skirted the desk between them and sat on the edge, his once-crisp uniform as wilted and tired as he looked, and spread his hands in an expression of surrender. Brijania closed her eyes. A line of sweat trickled off her brow and merged with the hot salt on her cheek. A second soon appeared, the burning drops falling from her chin, the tip of her nose.

"Bri." His voice was firm, but not unkind. "At ease, love. Come now."

She brought her hands to her face, refusing the comfort she knew he wanted her to take, the comfort he knew she wouldn't. It was over. Her fingers went white, pressing against her wet, contorting face, willing herself to speak calmly, to put on a stony mask of I-don't-care. It didn't come. "How long've I got?" she choked through her hands.

"You're to report in two weeks." He exhaled, bracing himself for the worst of it. "Ship leaves port four days from now, out of Stormwind. You've got 48 hours to pack and run through logistics."

"Why not Carter? Or Lambeck? Gerald Bitch-in-Boots Kinley's been dyin' to get out o' here since day fuckin' one, for Light's sake. Why the hell not one o' them?"

"I didn't have a choice."

She batted his hand off her arm and took a step back. "Bullshit. You're the personnel officer, it's all y--"

He cut her off. "Bonnie knows."

The fight went out of her at once. His arms were around her, but she hardly felt them as he led her to the austere sofa where they'd worked, talked, and done any number of things of questionable morality and legality. The stifling hot-box that served as Barrett Rowsell's command center was suddenly cold, and her damp clothes chilled her to the bone.

"She's got me on the wall, Bri. She was set on going straight to the liaison marshal up at Shattrath unless I reassigned you. You know what that means, don't you? Stripped rank, prison, fines. Time in the stocks. For both of us, though I think we both know they'd be harder on you than on me. I'm not going to let it happen." There was a brief pause. She supposed he expected her to respond, but when she elected to keep her mouth shut (a skill he had always appreciated) he added quietly, "She's not bluffing, either. She has a list of witnesses who'd testify if she asked, and a barrister on retainer."

The grim set of his jaw was telling; in it she saw what she already knew, and where she stood.

Bonnie Rowsell was a veteran of her husband's first ambitious, then harrowing career; she bore his three children (now grown and close to Brijania's own age); she wanted desperately to return to her homeland but, to her credit, had waited with a greater reserve of patience than Bri had ever seen in an officer's wife. When it came right down to the heart of it, he was fiercely loyal to the woman, and if Bonnie was dissatisfied with the integrity of their marriage, he would attempt to repair it. He certainly cared for the young woman in his arms (perhaps not so young anymore, but still nigh thirty years his junior), he might want her, even love her. But after all was said and done, it was an affair. Bonnie was family, and family came first.

Brijania Faye Harker was on her own.