[Seven Day War] Selythiels Initiation

ooc: The following story is written by Selythiel, not me. About her initiation to the guild Seven.



A small, hooded figure stood before their Blood Knight superior. The figure was petite, curvaceous and dressed in deep purple. Words exchanged and the silhouetted Sin’dorei nodded in acceptance. Merely moments later the Blood Knight turned on his heel in a fashionably military manner and strolled his plated way back towards the alcove in Farstrider’s Square of Silvermoon City. However, the figure merely observed him for an instant before plucking up the tail of its cloak and with a single, swift wraith-like movement was swallowed into the shadows, not even a hint of its existence remained – let alone the pact that had been made.

Later that very evening…
There he was, in Tirisfal Glades conversing with two women, one of which appeared to be of Scourge origin. His long hair was blonde, and braided with peculiar ornaments. He was certainly an odd character indeed. Perched rather casually upon the highest branch in a tree close by was a disguised figure, once again, entirely shrouded. Normally, sitting on a branch this high and in this conduct would cause it to instantly snap, which demonstrated the sheer skill of the watcher. With no need to hide their self in such a spot, the figure pulled down their hood. As the hood lowered, strawberry blonde hair cascaded to its full length, stretching to the small of its back. The figure tossed its head to let its hair fall more comfortably. It was female. A Sin’dorei. Visible was a malicious, plum grin that suggested nothing other than devilish scheming and plots; peridot-colored eyes that glimmered at the mere thought of spilt blood. The female crossed a leather-clad leg over the other, her toes wiggling in her boots with a sense of childish excitement as from her pocket she extracted a small, tatty notebook and a quill. In crimson ink, a rough sketch of the man in question was made – along with notes of possible weaknesses.

For many days the female hid in the darkness following the male, much like a lioness lies low in the long grass, moving slowly but steadily towards a adolescent gazelle; eyes wide and keen, claws sharp and ready – just waiting for the perfect moment to hurdle towards their prey.
“What are you doing, Selythiel?” the female’s cousin had seen her, knowing her all too well.
“Shut it, I’m working.” Selythiel snarled in response. Her cousin mocked her further, jesting and making mock-butterflies with his fingers.
“Ooh, love flies hiiiiiigh tonight!” Selythiel merely curled a plum lip at the boy, and then suddenly with fanatical interest, she raised her head, eyes surveying the area for her target. He’d gone.
“He’s disappeared now, you fool!” She pulled herself up sharply from the spot she had been crouched in for so long, ignoring any aches and pains, she bounded about, hauling her way from a nearby fence into a tree, swinging up onto its branch before leaping up onto the rooftop of the building – she paused a moment before skipping to the next roof to pull out her notebook, throwing it down to her cousin, intentionally resulting in something that would feel like a slap round the face as it hit him. She could hear him cussing after her but pulled up her hood and found her way from roof to roof in search of the escaped target.
After hours of searching intensely throughout the entire City, every minor corner and every major social spot, Selythiel found a spot to sit and rest. She sat quietly on the low wall that surrounded the fountain in the Court of the Sun and pulled off her boots to reveal sore, blistered feet. She leant down and rolled up her leather armor and let her feet sink into the water, a relieved sigh escaping her lips as the cool water soothed her reddened skin. Although being extremely athletic and dexterous, this Sin’dorei certainly did struggle to tolerate her feminine values, soft and sinuous skin being one of them. It was so easily broken and irritated.
…And with a slow, calm breath, the perfect plan comes to mind. Yes, that is how it will be done.
***

Letters had been sent, received and answered. Tonight would surely result in the bounty that Selythiel had been painstakingly working on. The target would meet her at the inn of Silvermoon City – a rather pleasant building that provided a short path from the thief-ridden Murder Row to The Royal Exchange, which on the contrary was home to the militaristic Blood Knights and their colleagues.

The target had been mislead. Selythiel had told in her letter that she had been watching him with an amorous eye, this much was true, however the reason for such a gaze was not the agonizing immeasurable yearning of her heart, but for the glorious remuneration that lied in his death. With a little over an hour until the proposed and accepted “date”, Selythiel stepped to her oaken amour and opened the doors of it with a disapproving gaze. It was times like this when she regretted not being more of a lady. The contents hanging in the amour were monotonous – an endless sea of darkness in which deep purples, indigos and navy blues lurked. Selythiel rolled her eyes and let a short blow of air escape her lips to rid a few strands of hair from her face. Could have sworn I kept hold of it after we killed… Suddenly, Selythiel fell to her knees, her ears perked as she pulled at the spare leather at the bottom of the amour, tossing it back over her shoulder as she searched fervently… Eventually, there it was; a shabby wooden box that the hinges barely held together. The Sin’dorei lifted the lid of the box to reveal a bundle of burnt orange. There it is. She straightened up, pulling the bundle from very specific points as she raised herself. The silken oasis of orange fell to its full length, a rather shapeless robe with a golden band that sat snugly around the waist; without allowing another moment to pass, Selythiel stripped herself entirely and pulled the robe over her head. Once on, she fastened the band and wandered to a full-length mirror. The Sin’dorei looking back was breathtaking; the thick golden band accentuated her already feminine figure; the low cut of the robe rather alluring as it drew more attention to her chest – a small slit in the right side of the robe was barely noticeable. She leaned forward to the mirror and reached to a small table nearby for her usual plum lipstick; she applied it and puckered to even the colour. Mhm. Not bad, Sel’. With crimson-painted fingertips she ruffled her hair a little, allowing herself to feel more accustomed to the robe. With less than half an hour remaining, Selythiel spent her time carefully disguising a thin dagger under the band of the robe – although with a devious plan concocted she shouldn’t need it. A scarlet girdle was pulled onto her right leg, and tucked into it was a syringe filled with fresh poison. Crippling poison. Nine minutes. She made her way to the inn.

Oh no… The strawberry blonde-haired Sin’dorei’s plan was possibly foiled. He had arrived, he had seen her, and he eyed her. It was running smoothly; the only issue was that he had come in what seemed to be battle armor – it was plated with some sort of fel-crafted mail; the only exposed spot was his neck. Blood men, always a pain. Even with her doubts, Selythiel forced a broad, beaming smile at the target.
“Good evening, Lotherán.” The voice that escaped her lips was unusually dreamy and casual; normally she’d be in too much of a rush to speak calmly. The male merely gazed; he seemed somewhat bewildered.
“Evening,” Selythiel twirled, her silken dress flaring a little as she did so. A childish giggle escaped her lips. “…Your beauty rivals with that of the pale moon.”
What a charmer, I didn’t even need to ask. Pity. Selythiel danced the last couple steps towards her target, her eager peridot eyes pinned to his with what on the outside would seem to be infatuation, but in it’s true form, it was the adrenaline and the rush of thoughts in her head, running over possibilities of how she would get to his neck. Without warning, Selythiel wrapped her left arm around Lotherán’s neck, pulling him into the dance with her as her right hand found its way to slit in her robe; swiftly pulling the syringe from her girdle before placing her right arm around his neck too. He hadn’t noticed. Sparkling green eyes of innocence gleamed up at Lotherán, totally oblivious to Selythiel pulling the safety cap off the syringe and flicking it away – it managed to land in a fruit bowl. Without wasting another moment, she eased the syringe into the left side of his neck. Lotherán flinched a little as Selythiel administered the poison; taking an immediate effect as the strange-haired Sin’dorei slowly fell to the floor, rendering him unable to even speak. The now revealed assassin pulled the syringe from her target’s neck, looking down upon him with a piteous gaze as she waited for the poison to take its full effect.
“Hmm, where did that cap go…?” Selythiel hummed to herself as she searched about for the cap of her syringe, confident that Lotherán the crippling poison she had used was powerful enough to keep him in his current state for at least half an hour. She looked back to check on him regardless. Impossible. He wasn’t where he left her. She started to panic and looked around frantically, however it wasn’t long before she found him. Or he found her. Large, cold plated hands found a tight grip around her throat. He was ruthless; she couldn’t make any noise whatsoever as the last of her air supply ran sparse. Selythiel’s hands tore violently at Lotherán’s in an attempt to pull them away from her neck – it wasn’t enough, he was strong. Too strong.

***

Everything and everywhere was dark. It seemed to be some sort of a void, the air around her tossed and swirled fitfully with black, it appeared to be smoke, but was not thick enough. Slowly it dispersed as a low, calming voice began to sound itself. It sounded male – but it was distant, the words were difficult to depict. Listen closer…
Mother thrives. Mother longs to see the return of her children.
Mother?
Andarien’s love is cruel. Peace will come only at a price. Her children shall return.
Smoke clouded all vision, this time with the colour of blood. The sacrifice had been made. Sanity and judgment was the price that was paid.

***

Selythiel looks at you. She is hunched, almost geist-like with the body of a fellow Sin’dorei in her lap. The body is bloody and mangled. Selythiel’s large emerald eyes pierce your very being as you look at her. Her plum lips are curled into a cruel and hysterical grin as she lets forth a laugh that seems to resemble a hyena more than anything else you could possibly compare it to.
Entranced, insane and confused. Maybe there is yet still hope for this young Sin’dorei.