[IC] Deadly Secrets

[kaelash]

The Row was relatively quiet that night. A blessed change from the circus it had been the two nights previous. Kae had been sitting along on the wagon, eyes closed, smoking his bloodthistle and waiting to see if that lovely lady from the other night would show. Avali Dawnblade. Bitter, sharp-tongued, but he enjoyed her company. She knew Khaavren. He would have thought to bring her home if Oriseus weren't so troubled by women.

Magister Adrasteius Bloodspeaker was the very last person in the world he expected to walk up. On fire. Radiating heat and magic and fury. Kae's brash habits landed him in another mess of trouble. A mess of furious mage getting in his personal space. Threatening. Demanding. Magic everywhere.

Run away.

He knew. He knew his Name. He was angry and in power and knew his Name. He would die. No, he would wish for death, because he knew his Name. Do you understand me, Dawnstrike?

No no no...

He understood. He understood what he had to do. He couldn't think. He had to

Run!

He could barely call the shadows to him. Could barely keep from tripping over his own feet, forcing them into a sprint that he didn't let up until he reached the orb. Didn't let up when his head was swimming and his lungs were burning and he couldn't stop shaking. Undercity?

Not far enough. Never far enough. RUN!

He didn't take anything with him but what was in his saddlebags. His mechano-hog left abandoned in the sidestreets of Lordaeron's ruins in favor of a white Talbuk that cried protest at being spurred too fast, hooves pounding a staccato rhythm on decay-ridden flagstones.

Can't kill what they can't find.

He can't stop shaking, and it's not the chill of the frozen wastes of Northrend. It's not icy wind that pulls heat from bare skin as he hunkers down against the warm neck of his mount. His thoughs are elsewhere, on another neck he's so often pressed against in such a manner. On the dark ligature marks he had an unhealthy fascination with. The marks of traitor's death.

Run away, get away--

To Dalaran, quietly, carefully, hidden in shadows and away from prying eyes. The goblins in the Undercity knew him, these ones would now. Free himself of the stain of traitor's blood. Red to white, pure as snow, quiet as the fresh snowfalls in the stillness of Thunderfall. Detour to Icecrown, to the Argents. Their colors, their determination, their strength. Wash away a past that was never his. Light help him.

Before

it's

too

late.

(( Related blogs: Khaavren and Oriseus ))