RP: A Little Mischief and Petty Revenge Pt. 3 [PG-13]

A Little Mischief and Petty Revenge Pt. 3

Authors: Keilos & Ysani

After reading the note, Kei saw red for a moment. I'll kill him. There's a scroll in my pocket, I can get to Dalaran fast enough. I'll kill him. Then, a soft sniff from over his shoulder dissipated his rage and reminded him that there were two here that needed seeing to. Keilos handed the note to Ysani, then knelt and carefully eased the lid away from the box.

A baby tickbird stared up at him, beak wide, panting in fear. One ruined wing flailed uselessly as it attempted to flap, to defend itself. Oh, Light...the poor little thing. And poor Ysani. Gently, Kei rested a forefinger against the bird's breast, sending a trickle of Light into the hatchling. The bird pecked at his hand, making him wince and pull away. Taking a deep breath, the young paladin drew himself up to his feet and turned to look at the red-haired elf standing behind him.

"All right," he said softly, as though he didn't quite trust his voice at full volume at the moment. "You gather up your mail and take it back to the chapter house...just go straight to the room if you want." He glanced down at the bird, then back to Ysani. "Our little friend here needs medical treatment...so I'm going to take it to that Tauren druid around the corner and see if she can do anything. I'll be back right after you as soon as the bird's seen to - then we'll discuss things. Will that work for you?"

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Fabrio had made himself scarce, and she didn't blame him. Ysani crept into the hall, wincing at the axe sprouting from the dense hardwood of Keltyr's bedroom door. It took a surprising amount of effort to pull it loose. The room she shared with Keilos was cool and dark, and Elphi greeted her with a cautious mew from a safe, distant perch on top of a dresser. "Sorry about the fuss, kitty. It's safe to come down now, if you want." She propped her weapon against the wall and let out a heavy sigh, numb to her toes. She wiggled them. Rage departed, she felt oddly deflated and tired.

Rather than stew, she decided to sit at his desk and look over his drawings. Slowly thumbing through his sketchbook, she found more dragons, a miniature of Elphi. Another sketch of herself, reading with the cat on her lap. A lot of blank pages after that, the paper heavy, rich and naked in its whiteness, and she flipped through them, fanning the air. The leather-bound book fell open on the last page. ...Oh my. He must have done that when I was asleep. ... it's not half bad.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed when the door finally opened and Keilos appeared, but it was long enough for the light to change. He paused, eyes widening slightly as he found her perched in his chair in the semi-dark, as nude as his covert illustration. Her mouth turned up at the corner. "I'm tired. Can we wait to talk 'til after...?" Nodding, he scooped her up and kissed her, obliterating all but her last coherent thought of the evening. Light, this is so much better than burnwine.

RP: A Little Mischief and Petty Revenge Pt. 2

A Little Mischief and Petty Revenge Pt. 2

Authors: Keilos & Ysani

Keilos brought up his other hand, just in case Ysani decided that he was as good a target as any and tried to take a swing with the axe. "What in the Light's name happened? You just went out to get the mail."

It didn't seem that she was listening to him, as she was still glaring daggers at the closed door. With a sigh, Keilos added, "They're not in. They didn't come in last night, so I'd assume they stayed in Dalaran." Slowly, very slowly, he felt the wrist in his hand begin to relax.

Kei glanced at the scored wood of the Grand Master's bedroom door and began to quietly chuckle. "While I approve of your choice of invective - and may I mention that you're gorgeous when you're angry - why don't you show me what's wrong, and we'll see if we can take care of it without knocking the walls down around ourselves."

The snarl in her throat died when she recognized the voice in her ear. Keep talking... please, just keep talking... And he did, the words slowly articulating themselves in her head, clearing the haze, soothing her. She dropped her free hand from the axe handle to her side, leaving the weapon jammed, slightly askew, into the thick plank. As her wrist loosened, so did his grip. She carefully withdrew and turned to him, leaning her forehead on his chest and breathing deeply. "Can't explain. I'll show you... it's outside. I left-" My stuff is out there! My gems, I need those, someone will take them if I don't hurry!

There was no need to rush. The velvet pouch was long gone, the only clearly valuable item in the mess, likely nabbed by a passing street urchin or perhaps just a magister looking for a little spare coin for his unnecessaries. The dented box was still there, however, flat on its side with streaks of elixir creeping up into the paper. It was soggy and silent. Wordlessly, Ysani pointed at it, then stooped to pick up the accompanying note as Keilos bent to examine the makeshift birdcage.

His look of bewilderment was answered with a warm fold of paper pressed into his palm. She stared at what remained of her mail and the soaked, crumbled muffin pieces over all (from a safe distance, mind you) as he read.

RP: Too Much of a Good Thing Pt. 1

This arc, concerning Ysani's chronic fatigue 'issue', predates the story of her abduction, and is the sequel to their fungus capers (see A Little Mischief and Petty Revenge). Destril/Keilos wrote this particular segment.

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Too Much of a Good Thing

Author: Keilos

Keilos sat on the couch and watched Ysani sleep. She hadn't been in the room when he'd returned from venting his frustrations on opponents in the Tourney, and when he discovered their shared room was empty, he'd felt a sickly turn of worry and unease in his stomach. He was considerably relieved when she'd come back around midnight.

They hadn't really spoken, even then – she'd silently shed her armor and headed for the bathing chamber, leaving him to wipe the plate down with a soft cloth and put it away on the rack as he tried desperately to ignore the tell-tale sounds of running water and splashing from the bath. It didn't much help that his imagination was more than happy to supply images of Ysani in the tub. Keilos gritted his teeth and went to the chapter house’s kitchen to get some water to make Ysani her tea.

He'd steeped the foul-tasting herbs for her and poured her a cup when the tea was ready. The look she gave him when she'd picked up the white china had hurt him – he knew she hated the stuff, but he also knew that, at least before Dorri had butted in, she had been looking better. Less worn anyway.

Now, the red-haired blood knight was asleep in what should have been their bed, and Keilos was resigning himself to another night of broken sleep and uneasy dreams on the couch. It was comfortable enough, for a couch...but it wasn't the bed. Several times a night he found himself crashing to the floor as he rolled over in his sleep, trying to curl himself around Ysani as he usually did.

Maybe I should just sleep on the floor and save myself the trouble...it's where I usually wind up anyway. He didn't think Ysani was exactly aware of what she looked like in the dress she'd worn earlier that afternoon. The dark fabric had paled her skin and complimented her red hair, and the bare expanse around her belly that the dress revealed had nearly destroyed his resolve to follow the medics' orders regarding their intimacy. She was beautiful in that dress. It made him think of the time they'd watched an Orgrimmar sunset together, back around Noblegarden. Somewhere, he still had an unfinished illumination of her wearing the dress he'd given her.

Keilos winced as the disapproving face of the female night elf in the medics' tent interrupted his thoughts. The matronly Kal'dorei had taken him out in the hall, scowling at him, and proceeded to give him a dressing-down the likes of which he hadn't received since shortly before he'd joined the Prophecy of Light. ”Just like most of the other men out there, boy – start thinking more of her. Stop pestering her. Didn't you know she was exhausted? If you really wanted the best for her, you'd have let her sleep, rather than keeping her up all night doing...whatever it is that blood elves do.” Kei had winced and tried to explain to the elf that the situation wasn't entirely of his creation, but she wasn't inclined to listen. ”Now look here, my randy young buck. Not another word out of you. For the next two weeks – at least – you're going to put her well-being above your desires. So it's hands off until she's had a chance to get some proper rest without you bothering her at all hours.”

He'd wilted under the disapproving glares of the medics, their words and their looks making him feel every inch the selfish jerk that Dorri had accused him of being at the Legerdemain. He hadn't told Ysani all they'd said to him, just let them give her an edited version of their diagnosis. He hadn't thought the fortnight would be all that bad. He had been sadly, sorely mistaken. It had certainly made him aware of all the little intimacies that'd he'd come to take for granted in their day-to-day lives – the looks, the touches, the little nudges in passing just to tease or give comfort.

A soft murmur from the bed jerked Keilos out of his ponderings. He saw Ysani frown in her sleep, muttering as she turned over, one hand questing across the other pillow where he usually slept. Softly, the young man sighed. He loved this little madcap Blood Knight, loved her temper and her sense of humor and her courage. He'd never found the right words to tell her, and thought that since she'd never given much hint of feeling the same, there might never be the right words. I don't know what I'm going to do when she decides the dalliance is over. She's never said anything to make me think it could be anything more than that, has she? There was that one time, over the stone - “It makes me want to hunt you down and kiss you.” But that could mean anything. Not like conversations over that goblin rock have all the context of face-to-face talks anyway. I'll be grateful for whatever I get, though. I know full well I don't deserve to be as happy as I have been the last little while.

Kei levered himself off the couch and paced over to the desk, glancing at the blank sheet of paper speculatively. Dorri's anger had made him feel selfish and guilty again, and hearing the two women snarling at each other over the stone had made him feel worse. Why does she put up with me? Or why do I put up with her? She keeps saying she's my friend – does that make it so? And if it does, why am I so awful at being a friend in return? Light, I can't do anything right, love or friendship.

He reached for a pencil, intending to do a quick sketch of the older Blood Knight, but stopped when he saw the fine tremor in his hands, knowing he was too tired at the moment to draw anything worth keeping. Better not...I'll only mess it up, which is about par for the course right now.

Wearily, Keilos extinguished the lamps and returned to the couch. As he stretched out and arranged the spare blanket he covered himself with, Elphi hopped up to drape herself over his feet, purring noisily in the almost-dark. As his eyes began to drag themselves shut, Kei glanced over to check on Ysani one more time. She'd turned back over, one calloused hand right on the edge of the mattress. For a moment, her lips curled in a smile, as though her dreams were pleasant. Just as he thought he really should tell her how he felt, maybe at the picnic tomorrow, his eyes closed, capturing the image of the girl's dreaming smile on the inside of his eyelids.

A Minor Miscalculation, Pt. 2

"Just do it."

Zum'shi cursed under her breath in a language she didn't realize the petite elf, who was sunk deeply into the hairdresser's chair and glowering up with arms folded over her chest, could easily understand. Ambika's scowl darkened.

"I have the gold, so let's go. I'll give you double, just move your scrawny green ass, chuta'lo."

The lean trolless narrowed her eyes at the dark-haired woman. For a long moment, it looked as though she'd just kick the wench out of her hut. Then she tipped her head back and burst into caws of harsh, uncontrolled laughter. "Yu got a mout' on yu, zufli. Fine, we braid yu, but double 'gain--two 'undred, ya, das right--nuh be complainin' fi yu nuh lahk neitha, nuh refund."

Some six hours later, the last braid slipped out of a worn green palm, its blunt silver cap clicking softly against the others that lay in the hollow of Ambika's shoulder. The rough but not unpleasant voice that hummed and sang to fill the time (Ambika was not as sociable as the older woman would have hoped) finally stopped in the middle of an old Gurubashi hymn.

"Nuh bad, nuh bad. Yu mos' pretteh fi yu stop dat frownin' face, ya."

A smudged piece of mirror reflected the elf and attendant scowl. Narrow, shining black braids fell in loose, yet tidy profusion from the crown of her head down to her collarbone. It gave the tiny elf an exotic look that she could almost begin to approve of, except that it wasn't enough, never would be. Not by itself.

RP: A Little Mischief and Petty Revenge Pt. 1

Yummmmm. Ysani walked slowly through the square, intent on the fresh-baked muffin nestled in her palm. Keilos was really starting to master the fine art of baking, especially where muffins were concerned. Sometimes she helped - this morning she'd grated carrots for him, and soaked the raisins until they were plump - but more often she'd just boil a little water and make them some tea before settling on a stool to watch him work over the rim of her mug. Lately he'd taken to baking in large ramekins, resulting in muffins nearly as big as her head. I'm not about to complain, she thought, chewing blissfully. Mmm. Cinnamon.

She picked up her mail, resting the half-eaten treat on top of the tidy stack. There were a few envelopes, a heavy box of vials, a pouch filled with sparkling gems, and a curious cardboard box with a red ribbon tied around it. The note on top was addressed to 'Dame Cloudbreaker', and she snorted quietly to herself as she pulled it off its string, balancing her load in the crook of her left arm.

In recognition of three months of membership in the order we felt it appropriate to reward your effort and improvement. Congratulations, Knight!

She recognized Keltyr's angular script and grinned. A present! I wonder what it is... it's so light. Couldn't be armor, too big to be just a .. an insignia, or something- Holding the note in her mouth, she shifted on her hips and used her free hand to tug on the bow, releasing the ribbon with a silky whishing sound. Her fingers felt at the back of the box seeking for a seam to tear and found three small holes spaced a few inches apart halfway down the side. Odd. She dug into one of them and tore it across to the next, pulling a strip of the heavy paper away and dropping it to the ground for the brooms to pick up. The tower in her arms wobbled slightly and she steadied herself quickly before rotating the box and peering inside.

For a moment she could see nothing; the interior of the box was dark. Irritated, Ysani leaned in closer, trying to see down into the bottom of the dark box. A blast of squawking, angry feathers smacked her in the face, a single yellow talon gripping the edge of the jagged hole not an inch from her good eye. With a blood-curdling scream, she dropped the box (along with the pile of mail on which it sat, shattering every last vial in the heavier box beneath it, soiling the lot in a multicolored puddle of various elixirs) and quickly backed up a half-dozen paces, the note fluttering from her lips to the cobbled courtyard.

A bird! was the only coherent thought she could muster. She turned a brisk about-face, ignoring the stares of the people who'd heard her scream, ignoring the squawking, dented, soaked pile she left behind. A bloody bird. What kind of sick joke is this? Ha ha, Master Sunsworn. Bloody fucking hilarious. I'm going to kill him. The door of the chapter house slammed inward with the force of her entry, and she shoved an aghast Fabrio aside on her way down the hall. Unhooking her axe from the rack in Kei's room, she retraced her steps and pounded on the door of the room Keltyr shared with Dorritow.

"Come out of there, you bastard!" Silence. Two bright spots of color smoldered high on her ghostly-pale cheeks, her lips drawn into a tight white line. She rattled the handle, her rage a hot red thing in her head, quickly filling up her entire body with dully thudding anger that made it impossible to think clearly. 3... 2... 1... "I SAID COME OUT!!" She swung, her heavy axe sinking into the door with a sickening shunk. She was about to yank it out and try again when a hand closed tightly on her wrist.

RP: I Like Turtles Pt. 4

There wasn't much response from the Farstrider, just a groan; he'd actually hit his head pretty hard on the stone floor. Mister Gramms, meanwhile, was contentedly chewing on whatever was in his food bowl across the room. Ysani slipped her hand under Firael's head and murmured something quiet under her breath. A bit of warm light lit the back of his skull for a moment, then faded away.

Firael's eyes rolled back into their proper place and opened slowly. Just over him was a worried looking Ysani and -- oh dear, an open necked shirt. He didn't quite have another faint in him at this point. "Y... Ysani..." he rolled his head to look to the side, the color in his cheeks returning very quickly.

"Light, are you okay? I don't think you cracked your skull or anything but all the same it sounded like it hurt." Ysani peeled up one of his eyelids with her thumb, checking his pupils. She was vaguely aware of the faintly greasy feel of his hair against her hand. He smelled like an engine block close up.

Firael in the meanwhile was busy trying to look anywhere but at her. Not only was she over top of him, but her shirt was hanging open, and he wasn't sure how long he'd been out but -- Yep, she still had no skirt on. "Ysani... your... you're..." He was looking off to the side, very deliberately not at her.

"Umm." Ysani looked down at herself, red-cheeked and assessing her current state of undress as she sat on her heels on the cold concrete floor. "I don't suppose you have a spare pair of pants, or a towel, or... well, anything that I might be able to cover up with would be great, really."

Firael thought about this, his head turned the other way. He had lots of oil rags, a couple of spare changes of his own clothes, which were probably a size too big for her. "W-well..." he was having trouble finding his words, speaking quiet and mumbled was much easier for him. "There-might-be-some-in-my-bags-or... towelinthebathroom."

"Okay. You stay there, I don't want you to hurt anything else." Ysani stood and went to the loft's tiny bathroom in search of a towel. There were three dirty ones piled on the floor. A slightly damp one hung from a hook on the back of the door. "Umm." She looked at it, then at the bag on the floor next to his bed, then back again. She decided to try the bag before going for Wet Towel, and crouched down to paw through the contents. Mostly odd bits of engineering equipment with a few wadded-up articles of clothing, it was a short search. She tugged out two pairs of pants and stood, holding them out and looking them over. One was in desperate need of a wash; the other was speckled with shop grease but looked serviceable. She tugged them on and held them up at the waist with her hands. "Do you have a belt?"

Firael had managed to sit up, but was as of yet unable to look at her directly. Mister Gramms on the other hand raised his head from his food bowl, looking at Ysani, almost seeming to be grinning at her. "Just... just the one I'm wearing. I've got some motor belts, b-but I don't think those would work."

"I'll uh, use some wire. There's plenty of it lying around anyway." She managed to produce a cheerful smile and darted for the nearest work table, plucking a length of scrap wire from it to thread between two of the belt loops and cinch them tight. Then she twisted the wire, wrapped up the loose ends and pulled the hem of her shirt down over the waistband. The pants were definitely scruffy, and baggy, but it was a lot easier to look directly at Firael with her cherry-printed pink panties covered up. "Okay! That's that then, I guess." She returned to his side and offered her hand. "Think you can sit up?"

He gazed up, blinked, and found himself still unable to look at her directly, instead extending his hand to let her help him. It was then he caught sight of the pants and the wire belt, but what was most funny about them was how baggy they were. He tried to stifle a laugh as he stood up. "I-I'm sorry," he brushed himself off, giving him something to look at that wasn't her. "M-Mister Gramms is usually a very well behaved workshop assistant. I... I don't know what got into him."

On one wall of the loft was a large window with a view out over Eversong woods. The sun was setting on the side of the workshop and the darkening woods beyond the window had a projected, softening glow to them. "Oh wow," Ysani breathed. She crept up to the window and watched the sunset turn the horizon into a blazing pink and orange fire, backlighting the trees and making them seem downright unreal. "It's so pretty."

Firael wasn't quite sure what she was referring to at first, "Oh, that, th-the sun, it gets in my eyes when I'm working in the evenings a lot."

Ysani peeled her eyes away from the view and looked at him, again, to make sure he wasn't teasing her. He wasn't. "Um. It's getting late, I should probably head back. I need to ask Kat if she can fix my skirt..."

"Oh uh yeah... would you... would you like... uh..." he looked at her awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. "You can drop the pants off whenever. G-goodnight."

She smiled at him and hitched up her (his?) pants slightly. "Thanks for showing me your place, it's pretty great. I'll have to drop by again soon. I can bring my projects over to show you!"

"I-I'd like that!"

Then, with a single suspicious glance at Mister Gramms, Ysani was gone.

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This was really fun to write up. They're a couple of adorable nerds and I heart them.

RP: I Like Turtles Pt. 3

"I guess not."

"S-so..."

Ysani's hands strayed over the heating coils, the polished metal case, the screws and widgets and the spring-loaded toast-popping mechanism. This she picked up and held up to her face, pushing it into action with a faint sproing. "Neat," she murmured. It didn't take long for her attention to be diverted again by the next table over, which appeared to be papered with various schematics. She pored over them one by one, tilting her head at some, lips moving silently as she read them over.

As Firael was busy fiddling with the pieces of the toaster battery, Mister Gramms came over to an otherwise preoccupied Ysani, extending his long neck and putting it on the table edge. He gave her a look, then began tugging schematics off the table with his mouth. Ysani wasn't quite sure what the turtle was doing, other than making a mess by dragging all the papers off the table. As soon as Firael heard the commotion he jumped up, dropping the piece he was currently holding. "No Mister Gramms, bad!" Mister Gramms gave his master a lazy look and stopped.

The turtle's shuffling of papers had unearthed even more schematics below the surface, and Ysani couldn't help but take in all of those, either. Her darting eyes locked onto a curious drawing and she turned her head slightly. "What's that..?"

"M-mister Gramms is usually very well behaved!" He stood on the other side of the turtle from Ysani. "Th-that?" Ysani was looking at what looked like the schematics for cylindrical object. It was actually his last commission work from Bizzlework's Pains and Pleasures. "I-it's nothing!" He snatched up the paper, trying frantically to figure out what to do with the schematic. At that same moment, Mister Gramms began tugging on the hem of Ysani's skirt.

Unfortunately for her, said skirt was loose; many sleepless days and nights blocked out with potent medicinal tea had also robbed her of her appetite, many meals' worth, and she'd gotten a little too slender in places. All over, really, if you wanted to be honest about it; and as the fabric yanked against her hip there was a tiny tearing sound, followed by a whoosh, then Ysani's skirt lay on the floor in a ring around her feet. Mister Gramms chewed idly on the hem of his prize. Ysani turned a brilliant shade of red and simply stared down at the turtle, too shocked to move.

Firael's jaw near unhitched, his eyes wide, the schematic falling from his hands. The two just stood there for a few moments, awkward silence thick in the room, aside from the quiet noise of Mister Gramms chewing on fine mageweave. Firael was suddenly conflicted with whether he should be looking away or scolding his turtle and trying to take the skirt back from it. As such, he did a series of turning away and then back towards Mister Gramms, only to see a pair of legs and then spin back around. "I'm I uh Umm Mister Gramms I'm very... Ohmygosh Ysani I'm so sorry I... ohdear MISTER GRAMMS GIVE HER HER SKIRT BACK."

After a serious (and largely ineffectual) effort to regain her composure, Ysani was at last able to stoop down and pull her skirt up off the floor, hoisting it over the seat of her decidedly pink underpants. Her face was still glowing red as she tugged at it, trying to pull the fraying hem out of the giant turtle's jaws. Mister Gramms continued to try to tug on her skirt. Firael had taken ahold of the large turtle's shell and was trying to tug him in the opposite direction, mostly in vain. There was a short ripping sound, then a pause and much longer and louder rip as the skirt gave along a seam... then a thud as Ysani landed hard on her backside, skirt ripped into two ragged pieces and flapping off to either side of her bare legs. She whimpered.

Mister Gramms backed into Firael, knocking him back on his rear as well. This was a good time for a turtle to leave the two Sin'dorei and go to his food bowl. Firael blinked as he looked forward, his cheeks now matching Ysani's. "I... uh." This was a bit too much for the Farstrider to handle, and he fell back on the hard floor of the shop.

The redhead scrambled over, skirtless, and gently shook the Farstrider's shoulder. "Firael? Are you okay?"