corpseknight: (zzzzz)
What began with a single moth spread rapidly to the others.

They seemed ill at first--sluggish, uninterested in the usual stimuli that stirred their insectile curiosity. Those that did eat stopped eating. Those that seemed to exist on air alone failed more quickly, progressing from sluggishness to total immobility in a matter of hours. They hid themselves first, seeking out the darkest places they could find and curling up within their own wings before they ceased moving.

And then they began to die.

((OOC: Hiyo. ._./ Of course no one's moth needs to die if they do not wish it to die, but it is an option if one wishes a plot hook or the removal thereof.

Dead moths will disintegrate into dust when touched.))
corpseknight: (zzzzz)
It was cold at night in the desert.

Not the bone-snapping, life-sucking cold of Icecrown's unending winter; it was not freezing cold, winter-cold, but it was enough. It was enough, and he lay in the sand on the floor of the cave, and bled in silence.

It's my fault. (my(myfault(your(my(faultmyfault)fault)my fault, stupid)traitor, stupid Larkspur)stupid fault, stupid Larkspur) mine. Too weak. Too (slow, stupid(gullible,trusting)) (stupid) (traitor(whore)) little.

He curled around the pain in his chest, burying his hands in his hair; clawed at his skull as if it would have any effect on the storm of self-recrimination inside.

A hank of gray hair pulled free and fell aside, ignored, to shiver into dust.

Not good enough (smart(fast(strong(loyal(good))))) for them, for (krenyn(orikhaav)(kae)(ben)(adra,'vali)jiel(embersong)((meros))ria((dynast(((mother)))) anyone. My fault. i(failed) (failed) (hurts)(can't even keep going anymore(can't keep your WORD(stupid)(worthless))(traitor)

He gave a helpless, mewling hiccup, shuddering hard enough to disturb the flock of moths clustered around him for what little comfort they might share. "'M sorry," he managed by rote. "S, sorry. I c--can't--" Shoved a knuckle between his teeth to silence the words, as he tucked into a tighter knot of misery.
---

One of the moths had stopped moving with the others. Not long after Larkspur had fallen back into a fitful sleep, it too fell to pieces, reduced to little more than rainbow dust on the sand.
corpseknight: (tits)

I realized yesterday that I may actually have passed the point where I can keep track of everyone who's got a moth in my head. SO NOW I WRITE THEM DOWN. If in the unforgivable offchance I have forgotten you have a moth, punch me and I'll note you down.

Format is name - number (colors) - notes if applicable.

Benden Amateria - two (white, yellow)
Kael'ash Amberwind - one (red) - named Moff.
Krenyn Bloodflame - four (blue, red, white, yellow)
Adrasteius Bloodspeaker - one (red) - named Lord Flitterwing the something-or-other Lark can't remember these things.
Avali Dawnblade - one (blue) - Lady Glitter...something... DAMMIT Bloodspeaker!
Tryice Dawnherald - one (white) - named Jasparl.
Sylera Dawnherald - one (blue)
Greyspell - one (grey) - this moth keeps getting released around Rommath Sunfury, much to his bemusement.
Oriseus Lastdawn - one (bruise-purple) - named Sieluharwe.
Penumbral Moonwinged - two (red, teal)
Jiel Mornherald - one (white) - now referred to as "Sir Larkspur Plagueheart (the Younger)".
Merosiel Riversung/Meridas Dawnspring - one (yellow) - named Imaure.
Khaavren Sunthorn - one (blue) - named Dusty.
Tisho - one (red)
Albain Weismann - one (white) - this moth is STOLEN.

corpseknight: (zzzzz)

Somewhere in the bowels of the Undercity, a moth lifts its wings and takes flight, sailing through the miasmatic sewers. Too drunk to realize the significance of its departure, its owner yells obscenities after the insect, his voice echoing hoarsely off the wrought stonework walls.

Dalaran's Eventide bank is thrown into a brief panic by an attack of moths when a dozen of them come boiling out of a client's deposit box, sweeping out into the streets in a whirlwind of scaled wings and feathery antennae. They do not linger to destroy the bank's property, arrowing for the Sunreaver portals with an unnatural swiftness.

In Acherus, a tiny flock of the creatures converge from all directions, escaping the hold onto plague-laden winds to drift across the reddening sky as infinitesimal specks of color. They are joined by escapees from Quel'Thalas, one that abandons its title and tiny moth house, its position as the most spoiled of moths; another which will go unmissed and unmourned; the third sure to worry its owner by its absence.

Quietly, delaying as long as it can, a golden-winged moth waits for an unwatched moment to crawl out the open window of a Stormwind clinic, vanishing into the lengthening evening.

Further north, a half-dozen moths flee the lengthening night to the Howling Fjord, seeking the actinic lights of Vengeance Landing. Sweeping down on the icy winds from the Storm Peaks, they nestle into the netting of the zeppelin to Undercity, huddling together against the storms at sea.

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Larkspur Plagueheart

March 2017

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