[IC Journal - Ezidran] Fleeting Phantoms
((For Author's Note: For warnings and author's notes, please click here. Warning: Coarse language.))
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[IC Journal - Ezidran] Thought Process - "Fleeting Phantoms"
"Still no sign of symptoms from him," a voice was heard from afar in the hallways of Argent Crusade's cells.
"For now he's a latent carrier, the Dalaran Center of Disease Control test kit found him positive," another voice answered. "There's a new statement that the magic taint in the 'disease' is related to some highborne or kaldorei relic."
A quieter voice spoke, sonorous in sounding. "I do not know how to treat this. Hope that expedition will find a cure. I cannot imagine handling the 'Otherside' again once the symptoms break out on him."
Heh, is that it?
Ezidran huddled to himself, ears flickering to listen to the Argent Crusade medics' conversation outside. Shackled, chained and locked up in a humid, rusty cell, he was stripped of his armor, only given a thin, ragged shirt and pants to wear. He was cold, isolated from other Cult of Damned cultists that shared the same prison as he did.
Only he was no prisoner. He was a patient, an infected; that had a potential to slaughter anyone in his way.
However, the raven-haired Death Knight had no intention to. He never meant to hurt anyone but he was aware of what he was capable of doing. He remembered the days he was not in control of himself, unintentionally hurting his comrades, his friends and his lover.
Dynast. The man he loved so much and never meant to hurt him nor break his heart.
But he did.
Few days ago, his husband finally told him he was not in love with him anymore and was disgusted with him. He had to accept it, even sick and vulnerable at the very moment.
He had to accept it after all. What other choice was there? Their love was getting dull.
But no, it does not matter. Ezidran still loved him. Even if he was unwanted, he would not forsake that love for him. He promised himself that whatever circumstances may happen, he would still love him and watch over Dynast. As long as Dynast is alive and well, nothing else mattered.
Just keep walking. Just keep walking... Just like all you've been all your life.
He thought to himself, sighing dejectedly. Worries plagued his mind. He wondered how Dynast and Zain were doing, he had Joven, Harper, Churchil and Zaifar in his thoughts. Are they all right? Were they infected by this outbreak too?
As Ezidran allowed his mind to wander, idly tugging at his chains around his wrists, he felt a cold wisp of air brush against his scarred skin; a presence was sensed.
"Who's t'ere?!"
Ezidran turned his head sharply to look, eyes widening at what he saw. Two famililar faint figures strolling about in his cell, their voices so vivid and familiar - They were his dead parents. How did they even get in here?
"Anu Belore, Ezi. How are you feeling?"
"Son, are you doing all right? I was about to make you breakfast."
He strained to look, did a double-check on reality. No, it cannot be them surely? Was his mind playing tricks on him? His family was long gone, died in a battle about two hundred years ago. In the next second, the fleeting figures were gone.
It was then he remembered his happier days where he was a mere youth. His childhood was perfect - Poor, mere commoners but they were happy. His parents were loving, caring and gave him all the love that a parent could ever give. Those memories were fond, yet ached to remember. A sad realization dawned upon him; how he could never take the past back.
He cried, silently to himself. He felt the moist of his own tears trickling down his cheeks. Wait, tears? He is a Death Knight, how can he cry and have tears?
He reached for his cheeks, brushing away at the non-existent tears that fell from his eyes. No, they were so real. He cried, he had cried tears! Pearly droplets of water wet his fingers, they were no mistake.
What does this all mean?
"Mama, papa, is that y'all? Are y'all still t'here?" Ezidran called out in his hoarse voice.
There was no answer. His parents were not there.
"I'm jus' imagin' things. Shit, fuck me," he groaned and laid against the wall, returning to his usual worrying and mulling.
"Raven."
Ezidran almost jumped at the foreign voice, his half-lidded eyes flashed open in surprise as he jolted to look who was there. There, sat next to him, was Dynast. His scent was musk cedar was strong, almost alluring to breathe in. It was no mistake, was it no mistake?
"L-Love! No, Dynast. D'ya come ta visit me?" Ezidran asked, surprised by his sudden presence. "I'm sorry. Please don't git too close ta me. I might infect ya."
The white-haired Death Knight said nothing but smiled fondly. Ezidran was shaking, too nervous to even greet him. After all, they broke up just few days ago. This was painfully awkward. All he could ever manage was a sad smile back.
"Sorry, I'm a coward. I wasn't a proper husband nor good lover ta ya," he managed, speaking quietly. "Ya s-shouldn't be 'ere."
He paused, lowering his head. All he could do was gaze at him, like an infatuated young boy who had just met his first love.
"But I..."
What had been a few minutes of silence seemed to feel like ages, Ezidran remained quiet, trying to look away from his lover by his side. He was nervous, so conflicted. He did not how to react to the presence of his ex-husband who had decided to hate him and cast him away. But no longer he could hold himself back, he turned back to Dynast and grasped his hand tightly. As cold and frigid it was to touch, he paid no mind for they were both dead men.
"Dynast... I still love ya so much," he stammered, half-choking. "I know ya hate me now but I would never forsake ya."
The other Death Knight never spoke nor answered, just silently watching him back. But that was enough for Ezidran, he only wanted to see Dynast smile. That was all he ever needed.
I never meant to hurt you.
You would never take me back.
But I would never leave you, you know?
For awhile, he laid his head onto his former lover's lap, resting in his warmth. Not a word spoken. Until the peace was broken by a sharp stab of reality.
"Mr. Ezidran! Did you speak to someone?"
"Huh?! Wha--?!"
Ezidran jolted up from his spot, realizing Zaifar had been watching him from the other side of the cell. The Forsaken priest bore a bewildered expression on his face, baffled by the other's behavior.
"Did you... talk to someone?" Zaifar asked again.
"Aye, Dynast visit--"
Ezidran turned to look at his side - There was no Dynast. As confusion streaked across his face, he felt his heart sank.
"Oh lord-- OH FUCK LORD. NO!" Ezidran seethed, snarled and gripped to his hair in mix of anger and frustration. "LORD, NO. FUCK!! WHY!!"
"Ezidran," Zaifar calmly said. "We will get you the vaccine. You have to cope for now."
So this is it.
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[IC Journal - Ezidran] Thought Process - "Fleeting Phantoms"
"Still no sign of symptoms from him," a voice was heard from afar in the hallways of Argent Crusade's cells.
"For now he's a latent carrier, the Dalaran Center of Disease Control test kit found him positive," another voice answered. "There's a new statement that the magic taint in the 'disease' is related to some highborne or kaldorei relic."
A quieter voice spoke, sonorous in sounding. "I do not know how to treat this. Hope that expedition will find a cure. I cannot imagine handling the 'Otherside' again once the symptoms break out on him."
Heh, is that it?
Ezidran huddled to himself, ears flickering to listen to the Argent Crusade medics' conversation outside. Shackled, chained and locked up in a humid, rusty cell, he was stripped of his armor, only given a thin, ragged shirt and pants to wear. He was cold, isolated from other Cult of Damned cultists that shared the same prison as he did.
Only he was no prisoner. He was a patient, an infected; that had a potential to slaughter anyone in his way.
However, the raven-haired Death Knight had no intention to. He never meant to hurt anyone but he was aware of what he was capable of doing. He remembered the days he was not in control of himself, unintentionally hurting his comrades, his friends and his lover.
Dynast. The man he loved so much and never meant to hurt him nor break his heart.
But he did.
Few days ago, his husband finally told him he was not in love with him anymore and was disgusted with him. He had to accept it, even sick and vulnerable at the very moment.
He had to accept it after all. What other choice was there? Their love was getting dull.
But no, it does not matter. Ezidran still loved him. Even if he was unwanted, he would not forsake that love for him. He promised himself that whatever circumstances may happen, he would still love him and watch over Dynast. As long as Dynast is alive and well, nothing else mattered.
Just keep walking. Just keep walking... Just like all you've been all your life.
He thought to himself, sighing dejectedly. Worries plagued his mind. He wondered how Dynast and Zain were doing, he had Joven, Harper, Churchil and Zaifar in his thoughts. Are they all right? Were they infected by this outbreak too?
As Ezidran allowed his mind to wander, idly tugging at his chains around his wrists, he felt a cold wisp of air brush against his scarred skin; a presence was sensed.
"Who's t'ere?!"
Ezidran turned his head sharply to look, eyes widening at what he saw. Two famililar faint figures strolling about in his cell, their voices so vivid and familiar - They were his dead parents. How did they even get in here?
"Anu Belore, Ezi. How are you feeling?"
"Son, are you doing all right? I was about to make you breakfast."
He strained to look, did a double-check on reality. No, it cannot be them surely? Was his mind playing tricks on him? His family was long gone, died in a battle about two hundred years ago. In the next second, the fleeting figures were gone.
It was then he remembered his happier days where he was a mere youth. His childhood was perfect - Poor, mere commoners but they were happy. His parents were loving, caring and gave him all the love that a parent could ever give. Those memories were fond, yet ached to remember. A sad realization dawned upon him; how he could never take the past back.
He cried, silently to himself. He felt the moist of his own tears trickling down his cheeks. Wait, tears? He is a Death Knight, how can he cry and have tears?
He reached for his cheeks, brushing away at the non-existent tears that fell from his eyes. No, they were so real. He cried, he had cried tears! Pearly droplets of water wet his fingers, they were no mistake.
What does this all mean?
"Mama, papa, is that y'all? Are y'all still t'here?" Ezidran called out in his hoarse voice.
There was no answer. His parents were not there.
"I'm jus' imagin' things. Shit, fuck me," he groaned and laid against the wall, returning to his usual worrying and mulling.
"Raven."
Ezidran almost jumped at the foreign voice, his half-lidded eyes flashed open in surprise as he jolted to look who was there. There, sat next to him, was Dynast. His scent was musk cedar was strong, almost alluring to breathe in. It was no mistake, was it no mistake?
"L-Love! No, Dynast. D'ya come ta visit me?" Ezidran asked, surprised by his sudden presence. "I'm sorry. Please don't git too close ta me. I might infect ya."
The white-haired Death Knight said nothing but smiled fondly. Ezidran was shaking, too nervous to even greet him. After all, they broke up just few days ago. This was painfully awkward. All he could ever manage was a sad smile back.
"Sorry, I'm a coward. I wasn't a proper husband nor good lover ta ya," he managed, speaking quietly. "Ya s-shouldn't be 'ere."
He paused, lowering his head. All he could do was gaze at him, like an infatuated young boy who had just met his first love.
"But I..."
What had been a few minutes of silence seemed to feel like ages, Ezidran remained quiet, trying to look away from his lover by his side. He was nervous, so conflicted. He did not how to react to the presence of his ex-husband who had decided to hate him and cast him away. But no longer he could hold himself back, he turned back to Dynast and grasped his hand tightly. As cold and frigid it was to touch, he paid no mind for they were both dead men.
"Dynast... I still love ya so much," he stammered, half-choking. "I know ya hate me now but I would never forsake ya."
The other Death Knight never spoke nor answered, just silently watching him back. But that was enough for Ezidran, he only wanted to see Dynast smile. That was all he ever needed.
I never meant to hurt you.
You would never take me back.
But I would never leave you, you know?
For awhile, he laid his head onto his former lover's lap, resting in his warmth. Not a word spoken. Until the peace was broken by a sharp stab of reality.
"Mr. Ezidran! Did you speak to someone?"
"Huh?! Wha--?!"
Ezidran jolted up from his spot, realizing Zaifar had been watching him from the other side of the cell. The Forsaken priest bore a bewildered expression on his face, baffled by the other's behavior.
"Did you... talk to someone?" Zaifar asked again.
"Aye, Dynast visit--"
Ezidran turned to look at his side - There was no Dynast. As confusion streaked across his face, he felt his heart sank.
"Oh lord-- OH FUCK LORD. NO!" Ezidran seethed, snarled and gripped to his hair in mix of anger and frustration. "LORD, NO. FUCK!! WHY!!"
"Ezidran," Zaifar calmly said. "We will get you the vaccine. You have to cope for now."
So this is it.