Another Update, ZOMG!!!
Title: Retribution
Author:
exobiologist
Fandom: World of Warcraft
Warning: Mature themes.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Blizzard owns World of Warcraft.
Summary: It was not long after he was released from the stupor imposed upon him by the Lich King that he gave up on humanity, for humanity had given up on him.
Notes: The continuation of Simon Spencer's quest to hunt down his cult-member wife.
I think he’s coming around.
Laughter.
Haha, keep doing that, it looks like he’s really enjoying it.
The wind tousling Spencer’s hair and neck felt strangely like small, delicate fingers. It was pleasant, nonetheless. Nothing was better than a good scalp-caressing. He stretched and shifted slightly to get more comfortable beside the fire that someone had made, then noticed his head was being cushioned by some kind of soft fabric.
He opened his eyes and blinked several times. It took him a moment to realize he was staring up into Constantina’s concerned face. He was lying in her lap. The gaunt heart in his chest seemed to tremble for a moment before he abruptly jerked himself sitting upright. His head spun like a top and he doubled over.
“Take it easy, the poison’s still working its way through your system,” Malek advised from the other side of the fire. He was roasting some kind of snake that he had impaled on a stick.
“What happened?” Spencer panted. He propped himself up with his hands and tried to focus in on his friend.
“Well, you went into one of your ‘crazy-son-of-a-bitch’ routines again…now I’d have to say that you’re just a lucky son-of-a-bitch.”
Spencer warily glanced at Constantina, giving her an admonishing glare when she gingerly reached out to steady him.
“I thought I told you not to come,” he snapped as he shrugged her hand away. “What are you doing here?”
“She saved your life,” Malek cut in. His dinner on a stick was popping and crackling from the heat. “She actually sacrificed her voidwalker for you…I arrived when that moronic dwarf hunter did, and heard you calling. I chased him off, and Constantina took care of the Scourge monsters that almost tore you into tiny bite-sized pieces.”
Constantina sat quietly with her hands in her lap as Spencer quivered with nausea. “We need to get you back to town,” she murmured. “You need to rest where the Apothecary can keep an eye on you-”
“I can take care of myself.” Spencer retrieved his hearthstone from his bag with a trembling hand. Looking at Malek he said, “I’ll see you in Orgrimmar.” The stone warbled faintly, bathing him in a brilliant green glow. With a flash, he was gone.
Malek looked ruefully at Constantina; she heaved a sigh and bitterly chewed her already-ragged lip.
It took a day or so for Spencer to sleep off the poison; he hadn’t bothered to visit the Apothecary or make an anti-toxin bandages. He had simply taken the first room offered to him at the inn and promptly collapsed onto the shabby hay-stuffed bed. Luckily, he had slept as though he was in a coma and could not remember his dreams, if he had even dreamed at all. In fact, it was probably the best rest he’d ever had.
In the evening, he finally roused himself and prepared to go out to meet Malek. He was looking in the mirror, noting how he looked more sunken and unhealthy than usual, when someone knocked on the door. Spencer sighed heavily as he dumped his gear on the bed.
Now what.
Constantina didn't bother to politely inquire if she could enter. She pushed vehemently past as he clicked the old wooden door open, strode to the center of the room, and then spun to glare at him with arms crossed. She didn’t bother to ask how he was feeling, either.
"What is your problem?"
Spencer was still standing at the door with his hand on the knob. He gaped at her.
"With me," she clarified. "What is your problem with me?"
Slowly, he shut the door without releasing the handle. "I'm not sure what you mean..."
"Don't give me that." Her eye sockets smoldered angrily. She turned away from him before going off on her tirade. "I don't understand why you seem to think that I'm completely incapable of anything. I'm not some...some novice straight out of the tomb. I'm nearly finished with my training, I have high reputation with the major cities and factions, I..." she whirled around with renewed anger and stormed towards him.
Spencer found himself backing up against the door in alarm.
"Just who do you think you are, Mister High-and-Mighty Rogue?" she fumed with her jagged finger in his face. "You know, your kind are a dime a dozen. You're all the same-pompous assholes that think they can handle everything themselves. I offered to help; you refused, and look what happened."
Constantina was really in his face now, her chest nearly pressing up against his. He swallowed and reflexively gripped the doorknob a little tighter. When she ran out of breath, he finally spoke.
"You think that I think you’re not good enough, and that’s why I won’t let you follow us around?"
"Well, that's what you said," she snapped in response.
Spencer had certainly implied that at one point, he recalled. He heaved a long sigh and tried to devise what to articulate next, but it was impossible to think with her right up against him as she was….
There was an expectant silence from him, and she seemed to realize that she was terribly invading his space. As she took a step back, Spencer detached from the door and stood up straight in attempt to regain an authoritative composure. He was about a head taller than she, when he wasn't hunched. He almost seemed like a real man again.
"I remember," Spencer began with a small smile, "when you were a novice straight out of the tomb."
It was around the time that his guild had formed when Spencer first met Constantina. She had been a gauche warlock in the beginning, sending her minions about on reckless rampages in a struggling effort to learn how to properly control them. He really never got to know her, since he was antisocial for the most part, except when he was visiting the local tavern with Malek. Occasionally they'd hold small, uncomfortable chit-chat conversations during guild events and parties…he had learned that she was roughly twelve years younger than he was, based on their ages when they died.
Spencer was well aware of her experience now; she could now harness the power of the most intimidating demons and wield them effortlessly. She had truly grown in her capacity. In fact, he would probably be inclined to never duel her.
"You know I'm good enough," Constantina said softly, rousing him from his thoughts. "We've done missions together in the past; I've never let you down."
Something at the back of his mind was nagging him.
"Why are you always so concerned about me?" Spencer suddenly wondered aloud. He knew enough from Malek's schoolgirl-esque tittle-tattle of course, but for some reason, he wanted to hear her directly admit her affections for him.
He stepped closer. "Why did you come here tonight?"
She looked up at him with eyes wide and bright, caught off-guard. "I...it's just that Malek always invites me to come along on your ridiculous jaunts, but you always get so annoyed when I show up. I don't want to sound like a sulking child, but I want to know why." She was stuttering a bit.
…Tell me, he silently urged her. If Spencer had pupils, they would have been dilated and dark as night.
He blinked, then suspiciously looked around the room to make sure her succubus wasn't there. No demons were present, yet he could feel that alarming warmth stealing through his desiccated blood vessels once again. Tilting his head a bit, he looked critically at her face, noting how well her young skin had been preserved during her transition from life to undeath. She had barely been an adult when it happened.
"Well?" she persisted. She shifted a bit, expressing discomfort in his odd, intent look.
He was fighting back rising anger now, anger that was brought forth from him not being able make her understand that it was all for her own protection. Her youth had been stolen. He knew she could never lead a normal life, but he didn't want to put her into unnecessary dangerous situations. That point he could not make her understand, among other things that he could not bring himself to acknowledge...
"Spencer, you honestly need to stop staring at me so."
He pinched the bridge of his nose as if staving off a headache. "...Yes, Malek. Well, he and I often disagree over many, many things." He moved towards the bed where his belt and swords were laying. He buckled them around his narrow waist and turned to retrieve his oilskin coat draped over a nearby chair.
"Where are you going?" Constantina asked in aggravation.
"To get something to eat." He quickly strode towards the door, boots thumping on the hardwood floor.
"But you still haven't answered my question!"
“I really don’t think-”
“Stop toying with me, damn it!” Constantina stomped her foot with frustration. The wooden panel under her made a small splintering sound.
Spencer ground his teeth, jaw muscles working, and turned back as he exited. “If you really must know,” he spat, “I don’t want you around because you remind me of…her. You remind me of my wife.”
The last thing he saw before shutting the door was the lovely young warlock’s jaw drop in utter shock.
Author:
exobiologist
Fandom: World of Warcraft
Warning: Mature themes.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Blizzard owns World of Warcraft.
Summary: It was not long after he was released from the stupor imposed upon him by the Lich King that he gave up on humanity, for humanity had given up on him.
Notes: The continuation of Simon Spencer's quest to hunt down his cult-member wife.
I think he’s coming around.
Laughter.
Haha, keep doing that, it looks like he’s really enjoying it.
The wind tousling Spencer’s hair and neck felt strangely like small, delicate fingers. It was pleasant, nonetheless. Nothing was better than a good scalp-caressing. He stretched and shifted slightly to get more comfortable beside the fire that someone had made, then noticed his head was being cushioned by some kind of soft fabric.
He opened his eyes and blinked several times. It took him a moment to realize he was staring up into Constantina’s concerned face. He was lying in her lap. The gaunt heart in his chest seemed to tremble for a moment before he abruptly jerked himself sitting upright. His head spun like a top and he doubled over.
“Take it easy, the poison’s still working its way through your system,” Malek advised from the other side of the fire. He was roasting some kind of snake that he had impaled on a stick.
“What happened?” Spencer panted. He propped himself up with his hands and tried to focus in on his friend.
“Well, you went into one of your ‘crazy-son-of-a-bitch’ routines again…now I’d have to say that you’re just a lucky son-of-a-bitch.”
Spencer warily glanced at Constantina, giving her an admonishing glare when she gingerly reached out to steady him.
“I thought I told you not to come,” he snapped as he shrugged her hand away. “What are you doing here?”
“She saved your life,” Malek cut in. His dinner on a stick was popping and crackling from the heat. “She actually sacrificed her voidwalker for you…I arrived when that moronic dwarf hunter did, and heard you calling. I chased him off, and Constantina took care of the Scourge monsters that almost tore you into tiny bite-sized pieces.”
Constantina sat quietly with her hands in her lap as Spencer quivered with nausea. “We need to get you back to town,” she murmured. “You need to rest where the Apothecary can keep an eye on you-”
“I can take care of myself.” Spencer retrieved his hearthstone from his bag with a trembling hand. Looking at Malek he said, “I’ll see you in Orgrimmar.” The stone warbled faintly, bathing him in a brilliant green glow. With a flash, he was gone.
Malek looked ruefully at Constantina; she heaved a sigh and bitterly chewed her already-ragged lip.
It took a day or so for Spencer to sleep off the poison; he hadn’t bothered to visit the Apothecary or make an anti-toxin bandages. He had simply taken the first room offered to him at the inn and promptly collapsed onto the shabby hay-stuffed bed. Luckily, he had slept as though he was in a coma and could not remember his dreams, if he had even dreamed at all. In fact, it was probably the best rest he’d ever had.
In the evening, he finally roused himself and prepared to go out to meet Malek. He was looking in the mirror, noting how he looked more sunken and unhealthy than usual, when someone knocked on the door. Spencer sighed heavily as he dumped his gear on the bed.
Now what.
Constantina didn't bother to politely inquire if she could enter. She pushed vehemently past as he clicked the old wooden door open, strode to the center of the room, and then spun to glare at him with arms crossed. She didn’t bother to ask how he was feeling, either.
"What is your problem?"
Spencer was still standing at the door with his hand on the knob. He gaped at her.
"With me," she clarified. "What is your problem with me?"
Slowly, he shut the door without releasing the handle. "I'm not sure what you mean..."
"Don't give me that." Her eye sockets smoldered angrily. She turned away from him before going off on her tirade. "I don't understand why you seem to think that I'm completely incapable of anything. I'm not some...some novice straight out of the tomb. I'm nearly finished with my training, I have high reputation with the major cities and factions, I..." she whirled around with renewed anger and stormed towards him.
Spencer found himself backing up against the door in alarm.
"Just who do you think you are, Mister High-and-Mighty Rogue?" she fumed with her jagged finger in his face. "You know, your kind are a dime a dozen. You're all the same-pompous assholes that think they can handle everything themselves. I offered to help; you refused, and look what happened."
Constantina was really in his face now, her chest nearly pressing up against his. He swallowed and reflexively gripped the doorknob a little tighter. When she ran out of breath, he finally spoke.
"You think that I think you’re not good enough, and that’s why I won’t let you follow us around?"
"Well, that's what you said," she snapped in response.
Spencer had certainly implied that at one point, he recalled. He heaved a long sigh and tried to devise what to articulate next, but it was impossible to think with her right up against him as she was….
There was an expectant silence from him, and she seemed to realize that she was terribly invading his space. As she took a step back, Spencer detached from the door and stood up straight in attempt to regain an authoritative composure. He was about a head taller than she, when he wasn't hunched. He almost seemed like a real man again.
"I remember," Spencer began with a small smile, "when you were a novice straight out of the tomb."
It was around the time that his guild had formed when Spencer first met Constantina. She had been a gauche warlock in the beginning, sending her minions about on reckless rampages in a struggling effort to learn how to properly control them. He really never got to know her, since he was antisocial for the most part, except when he was visiting the local tavern with Malek. Occasionally they'd hold small, uncomfortable chit-chat conversations during guild events and parties…he had learned that she was roughly twelve years younger than he was, based on their ages when they died.
Spencer was well aware of her experience now; she could now harness the power of the most intimidating demons and wield them effortlessly. She had truly grown in her capacity. In fact, he would probably be inclined to never duel her.
"You know I'm good enough," Constantina said softly, rousing him from his thoughts. "We've done missions together in the past; I've never let you down."
Something at the back of his mind was nagging him.
"Why are you always so concerned about me?" Spencer suddenly wondered aloud. He knew enough from Malek's schoolgirl-esque tittle-tattle of course, but for some reason, he wanted to hear her directly admit her affections for him.
He stepped closer. "Why did you come here tonight?"
She looked up at him with eyes wide and bright, caught off-guard. "I...it's just that Malek always invites me to come along on your ridiculous jaunts, but you always get so annoyed when I show up. I don't want to sound like a sulking child, but I want to know why." She was stuttering a bit.
…Tell me, he silently urged her. If Spencer had pupils, they would have been dilated and dark as night.
He blinked, then suspiciously looked around the room to make sure her succubus wasn't there. No demons were present, yet he could feel that alarming warmth stealing through his desiccated blood vessels once again. Tilting his head a bit, he looked critically at her face, noting how well her young skin had been preserved during her transition from life to undeath. She had barely been an adult when it happened.
"Well?" she persisted. She shifted a bit, expressing discomfort in his odd, intent look.
He was fighting back rising anger now, anger that was brought forth from him not being able make her understand that it was all for her own protection. Her youth had been stolen. He knew she could never lead a normal life, but he didn't want to put her into unnecessary dangerous situations. That point he could not make her understand, among other things that he could not bring himself to acknowledge...
"Spencer, you honestly need to stop staring at me so."
He pinched the bridge of his nose as if staving off a headache. "...Yes, Malek. Well, he and I often disagree over many, many things." He moved towards the bed where his belt and swords were laying. He buckled them around his narrow waist and turned to retrieve his oilskin coat draped over a nearby chair.
"Where are you going?" Constantina asked in aggravation.
"To get something to eat." He quickly strode towards the door, boots thumping on the hardwood floor.
"But you still haven't answered my question!"
“I really don’t think-”
“Stop toying with me, damn it!” Constantina stomped her foot with frustration. The wooden panel under her made a small splintering sound.
Spencer ground his teeth, jaw muscles working, and turned back as he exited. “If you really must know,” he spat, “I don’t want you around because you remind me of…her. You remind me of my wife.”
The last thing he saw before shutting the door was the lovely young warlock’s jaw drop in utter shock.