Concussive Consequences

“…I don’t care who gets caught in the middle. Kill Magister Dawnpride.”

There was a ringing in my ears; A horrific, ceaseless, omnipresent ringing as if a whistle drowning within the depths of my head. I cannot see straight and my thoughts fall together. I cannot form proper sentences, nor can I perform basic motor functions. This Kal’dorei has been tending to my injuries for the past hour. She hovers over me, whispering in her native tongue, trying her best to soothe my pain.

She inquires of me, my name. I answer her clearly. She asks if I know where I am. Lordaeron, I reply. Ashenvale, she corrects me sympathetically. That is what I said, isn’t it? Kuvasei prattles on about my condition, how I should cease my thoughts. What would Magister Ithilien know of this? She’s just a tailor.

I collect my thoughts as the ringing continues in my ears. I realize that I’m not all-together functional. Who is this woman? If only I could clear my eyes, pierce this veil. The explosion only rocked me from afar, I was not caught among the debris, was I? How long have I drifted in this state? What memories sit absent without my recollection? Who could be responsible for this madness that now afflicts me?

Concussion. The word floats to me from prior studies in medicinal theory; Wherein the mind is addled beyond the body. But such is impossible, isn’t it? This is the start of insanity, isn’t it? Mental agitation? But then, I was always insane. Astoreth places her hand upon my head and whispers to me. The ranger lord shakes his head as I continue to mumble to myself. Westel was always a bit daft in the affairs of the paralegal and conjecture.

There was an explosion. I cast the keys of my mechanical steed to a trusted colleague. She twisted the activation mechanism and it proceded to combust into an inferno of hellish degrees. She vanished from sight. Nothing but blood and limbs left, as I’m flung from my feet. The scene returns to my eyes again and again. Who was she? Why would I trust her with such things?

A mistress? Can one beyond marriage have one? A consort, mayhap? She was one of them. No, more than that. A caretaker. I’ve no recollection of fornication. I stumbled from the scenery through a portal amongst rifle fire. I disapear through the transdimensional rift floating freely. The warmth of mana holds me tightly before casting me through the foliage of the lush forest. Eversong? Ashenvale? Ashenvale.

There was an explosion. I cast the keys of my mechanical steed to… I ramble in circles. My head is scattered. Like the constant rattling of mine carts pushed along, I feel myself falling to ancient fears as memories scatter as though I’d never resolved them. Ghosts of old faces cloud my mind, a thousand lost souls I’d recognize if only for the fact that these are surely images borne of past experiences. They languish about as if waiting for me to come to the conclusion of just why they’re before me.

There are children, innocent and without regard for the world. Some intact, others horribly mutiliated or bruised. Most with a noose about their neck. I drop a gavel and proclaim guilty. They fall into nothingness, before the sound of bones snapping carried past the ringing in my ears.

The echoes give way to festive musical compositions; celebratory tunes. I’m in the streets of Silvermoon, following the reclamation of our Sunwell. Our champions march in tandem through the merry masses. I stand upon an elaborate cart next to others of my title. We wave to our citizens, sincere smiles upon our faces. There is now a consistent drum beat upon my ears, as the music continues to tickle my auditory nerves.

Despite the realization that I’m in the middle of a clearing, still attended by my Kal’dorei vigil, I cannot escape the song, as if it carries some meaning that fate demands I pay heed. I feel fingers through my hair and I am immediately warped to a bedroom in Lordaeron, harboring guilt in my heart as my Human paramore traces lines through my golden locks of hair. Even here, I cannot escape the beating of the drums, nor the blare of the trumpets. Victory in the air. Victory… Perhaps this is what I’m meant to hear, but to what end? Surely this entire situation is nothing but a loss? What situation?

There was an explosion… I observe the Wrathgate from afar. Distaste for the Forsaken rises once more like bile to my tongue. Was this were I was before? No, for I have memories in the aftermath. A wedding. A very red wedding. Streamers. Cake. Tea. Everything was red. I can’t keep my head together, it’s all falling apart. She’s pushing me to sleep through magic… This Kal’dorei woman… What…


~ by anethodawnpride on July 22, 2013.

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