World of Warcraft - Stolen Moments
Title: Stolen Moments.
Author: Shaded Mazoku.
Part: 1/1.
Disclaimer: Not mine at all. Thassarian, Koltira and the setting belong to Blizzard. All I own is a much neglected account and a disgruntled Sin'dorei mage.
Warnings: None.
Rating: PG-13 for bloodstained dead men without their clothes on.
Summary: A small reprieve between battles, enjoying each other's company.
Character/pairing(s): Thassarian/Koltira Deathweaver.
Fandom: World of Warcraft.
Words: 1081.
Notes: For Fluff Friday! Not really that fluffy, though. As fluffy as bitter, dead men get, I suppose.
His ears caught the sound of heavy footsteps long before the shadow fell over him. His hearing wasn't what it had been once, like most of him, but he'd had to be deaf not to hear the way metal boots rang out in the now empty halls.
Koltira didn't bother looking up.
"Hello, Thassarian," he greeted, focusing on re-wrapping Byfrost's hilt. The wrappings had come loose in his last fight, and he needed to fix it before he had to go back into combat, unless he wanted to risk dropping the large runeblade. A vampiric sword could wreck a lot of havoc it it went on control.
"Koltira," the reply came, the hollow tones of a death knight unable to hide the familiar voice entirely.
Thassarian sat down next to him, dropping his own blades at his feet. In the blue glow from his blades and the sickly green glow from Byfrost, both their armours, or what they were still wearing of it, gleam ominously.
Finishing wrapping the hilt, Koltira put his sword away and leaned back into Thassarian, closing his eyes. They no longer needed sleep, of course, and their bodies weren't bothered with exhaustion, but their minds needed rest, and it
had been too long since either of them had the chance to relax.
There was no warmth to be shared between the two of them, but Thassarian was nicely solid, a comfort Koltira would never admit he craved.
Thassarian's response was to lean into Koltira in return, supporting each other in peaceful silence.
It took Koltira unreasonably long to catch the scent of blood, even with blood running as slow as their. Death really had done his senses no favours. Injuries weren't really lethal to them, of course. It took disembodiment to even slow a death knight down. However, if injuries weren't taken care of, they were prone to frostbite and other problems.
Sighing out of habit more than any other, Koltira opened his eyes again, turning to look at Thassarian for the first time since he arrived. Like Koltira himself, he was covered in matted blood and gore from battle, though he was still wearing more of his armour. Koltira had discarded most of his as soon as he'd gotten back.
"Right," Koltira muttered, shaking his head and getting to his feet. He grabbed Byfrost with one hand and Thassarian's hand with the other, dragging the human to his feet. He allowed a moment for the man to pick up his own swords before dragging him off.
There was preciously few good things about Northrend, but one of them was the abundant hot springs.
The one he brought Thassarian to was a secluded one, with rocky outcrops shielding two sides of the area. Even with his senses dulled, Koltira had noticed Lurid following them at a distance, as the skeletal warrior often did,
and that, too, should keep uninvited people out.
Somewhat reluctantly letting go of Thassarian's hand, Koltira propped Byfrost up against the rocky outcrop and stripped out of his armour as quickly as he could. He divested himself of the light pants he wore beneath his leggings, too, still retaining some of the infamous elven vanity and wanting to show off a little.
He waded into the water and found a rock to sit on, busying himself with cleaning out his hair. Scourge guts were not something he wanted to be covered in, and it had been so long since he had the time to wash out his hair properly. The warmth of the water was wonderful, too. It was probably a little too warm to be comfortable for anyone living, but in that, at least, the dulled senses he had to deal with now was a blessing. One of these days, he'd have to take a trip to Dalaran to see if he could find some proper hair rinse, but for now, hot water was nearly as good.
Maybe the best example of what their relationship had become was that Koltira didn't even twitch as Thassarian slid his hands into his hair, even if he hadn't heard him walk up to him, distracted by the promise of soon being clean. Pleased, Koltira let his arms fall, scrubbing his chest and arms as Thassarian washed his hair for him.
It was a small gesture, but it felt great, and there was something extremely soothing about the way those large hands massaged his scalp as they worked through his mass of hair.
Had he been alive still, Koltira would probably have fallen asleep right there.
As it was, he let his eyes fall shut instead, just enjoying the touch.
Thassarian spend far longer washing his hair than what was necessary to get it clean, but they were both enjoying themselves too much to stop that soon. Koltira kept his eyes closed for the duration, head tilted backwards into the touch.
Eventually, reluctantly, Koltira moved away and turned towards Thassarian, looking at the man's arm. He had a deep cut running along the inside of his lower arm that would probably have disabled a living man.
"Idiot," Koltira muttered, somewhat annoyed.
They wore heavy plate. Injuries like those only came from carelessness. He poured some water on it from cupped hands, rubbing to clean the cut. They didn't get infections, but grit trapped under the skin was never fun.
Concentrating, green light spread from his fingers, sealing the skin closed.
His fingers lingered on Thassarian's skin afterwards, stroking his thumb along where the cut had been.
Thassarian closed his fingers around Koltira's wrist, pulling him back onto the rocks until they were pressed up together, Thassarian's now-healed arm around Koltira's waist.
"Idiot," Koltira muttered again, stealing a deep kiss. Another of the few advantages to undeath; not having to breathe. After a good while, he pulled away, leaning his head on Thassarian's shoulder and closing his eyes, wishing the rest of the world would just go away forever. All he needed was right here.
It wouldn't last, of course. There was a war on, and they weren't even on the same side. They rarely had time alone together. Soon, it was back to their respective air ships, back to battles and scourge guts and the ridiculous fights between the factions when they had bigger enemies to focus on.
But for now, they had each other's company, they had the heat and the arms around each other, and for a short while, the world was all theirs.
Author: Shaded Mazoku.
Part: 1/1.
Disclaimer: Not mine at all. Thassarian, Koltira and the setting belong to Blizzard. All I own is a much neglected account and a disgruntled Sin'dorei mage.
Warnings: None.
Rating: PG-13 for bloodstained dead men without their clothes on.
Summary: A small reprieve between battles, enjoying each other's company.
Character/pairing(s): Thassarian/Koltira Deathweaver.
Fandom: World of Warcraft.
Words: 1081.
Notes: For Fluff Friday! Not really that fluffy, though. As fluffy as bitter, dead men get, I suppose.
His ears caught the sound of heavy footsteps long before the shadow fell over him. His hearing wasn't what it had been once, like most of him, but he'd had to be deaf not to hear the way metal boots rang out in the now empty halls.
Koltira didn't bother looking up.
"Hello, Thassarian," he greeted, focusing on re-wrapping Byfrost's hilt. The wrappings had come loose in his last fight, and he needed to fix it before he had to go back into combat, unless he wanted to risk dropping the large runeblade. A vampiric sword could wreck a lot of havoc it it went on control.
"Koltira," the reply came, the hollow tones of a death knight unable to hide the familiar voice entirely.
Thassarian sat down next to him, dropping his own blades at his feet. In the blue glow from his blades and the sickly green glow from Byfrost, both their armours, or what they were still wearing of it, gleam ominously.
Finishing wrapping the hilt, Koltira put his sword away and leaned back into Thassarian, closing his eyes. They no longer needed sleep, of course, and their bodies weren't bothered with exhaustion, but their minds needed rest, and it
had been too long since either of them had the chance to relax.
There was no warmth to be shared between the two of them, but Thassarian was nicely solid, a comfort Koltira would never admit he craved.
Thassarian's response was to lean into Koltira in return, supporting each other in peaceful silence.
It took Koltira unreasonably long to catch the scent of blood, even with blood running as slow as their. Death really had done his senses no favours. Injuries weren't really lethal to them, of course. It took disembodiment to even slow a death knight down. However, if injuries weren't taken care of, they were prone to frostbite and other problems.
Sighing out of habit more than any other, Koltira opened his eyes again, turning to look at Thassarian for the first time since he arrived. Like Koltira himself, he was covered in matted blood and gore from battle, though he was still wearing more of his armour. Koltira had discarded most of his as soon as he'd gotten back.
"Right," Koltira muttered, shaking his head and getting to his feet. He grabbed Byfrost with one hand and Thassarian's hand with the other, dragging the human to his feet. He allowed a moment for the man to pick up his own swords before dragging him off.
There was preciously few good things about Northrend, but one of them was the abundant hot springs.
The one he brought Thassarian to was a secluded one, with rocky outcrops shielding two sides of the area. Even with his senses dulled, Koltira had noticed Lurid following them at a distance, as the skeletal warrior often did,
and that, too, should keep uninvited people out.
Somewhat reluctantly letting go of Thassarian's hand, Koltira propped Byfrost up against the rocky outcrop and stripped out of his armour as quickly as he could. He divested himself of the light pants he wore beneath his leggings, too, still retaining some of the infamous elven vanity and wanting to show off a little.
He waded into the water and found a rock to sit on, busying himself with cleaning out his hair. Scourge guts were not something he wanted to be covered in, and it had been so long since he had the time to wash out his hair properly. The warmth of the water was wonderful, too. It was probably a little too warm to be comfortable for anyone living, but in that, at least, the dulled senses he had to deal with now was a blessing. One of these days, he'd have to take a trip to Dalaran to see if he could find some proper hair rinse, but for now, hot water was nearly as good.
Maybe the best example of what their relationship had become was that Koltira didn't even twitch as Thassarian slid his hands into his hair, even if he hadn't heard him walk up to him, distracted by the promise of soon being clean. Pleased, Koltira let his arms fall, scrubbing his chest and arms as Thassarian washed his hair for him.
It was a small gesture, but it felt great, and there was something extremely soothing about the way those large hands massaged his scalp as they worked through his mass of hair.
Had he been alive still, Koltira would probably have fallen asleep right there.
As it was, he let his eyes fall shut instead, just enjoying the touch.
Thassarian spend far longer washing his hair than what was necessary to get it clean, but they were both enjoying themselves too much to stop that soon. Koltira kept his eyes closed for the duration, head tilted backwards into the touch.
Eventually, reluctantly, Koltira moved away and turned towards Thassarian, looking at the man's arm. He had a deep cut running along the inside of his lower arm that would probably have disabled a living man.
"Idiot," Koltira muttered, somewhat annoyed.
They wore heavy plate. Injuries like those only came from carelessness. He poured some water on it from cupped hands, rubbing to clean the cut. They didn't get infections, but grit trapped under the skin was never fun.
Concentrating, green light spread from his fingers, sealing the skin closed.
His fingers lingered on Thassarian's skin afterwards, stroking his thumb along where the cut had been.
Thassarian closed his fingers around Koltira's wrist, pulling him back onto the rocks until they were pressed up together, Thassarian's now-healed arm around Koltira's waist.
"Idiot," Koltira muttered again, stealing a deep kiss. Another of the few advantages to undeath; not having to breathe. After a good while, he pulled away, leaning his head on Thassarian's shoulder and closing his eyes, wishing the rest of the world would just go away forever. All he needed was right here.
It wouldn't last, of course. There was a war on, and they weren't even on the same side. They rarely had time alone together. Soon, it was back to their respective air ships, back to battles and scourge guts and the ridiculous fights between the factions when they had bigger enemies to focus on.
But for now, they had each other's company, they had the heat and the arms around each other, and for a short while, the world was all theirs.