12-20-2020, 11:51 PM
((Trigger warning for unintentional self harm))
Many thoughts weighed heavy on Nyxxa’s mind as winter struck hard on a land unprepared for it.
Day by day the Horde marched on this world, ripping the land apart, furthering the Legion’s plans of conquest. Frostmourne was out there, furthering the Legion’s plans- whether it’s devotees realized this or not. The Black Dragon flight continued to plot whatever they were plotting, reaping the benefits of the chaos created by war.
And despite all this, Nyxxa had yet to see any Kal’dorei presence. The idea of them still deciding to intervene or if they had simply no idea what was happening were both equally troubling. After all, they should know better than anyone else that the longer you wait to address corruption, the more difficult it is to purge.
Draenor was also on her mind, and what she might do and say when she got there. But as far as that was concerned, all she could do was wait for news. There was no point in crossing over to the Twisting Nether now if no one had any idea where the remains of Draenor were. Hastiness would lead to wasted time. It was important to be patient, and that Nyxxa could deal with.
What instead plagued the demon hunter’s thoughts was her powerlessness. Evil dug it’s roots deeply all around her, growing stronger and stronger by the day, and all she could do was watch it grow.
That wasn’t true.
She could act if she wanted to.
Act and undo all the work she had done. Act and put the people she had come to care for in jeopardy for associating with her. Act and make worthless every single sacrifice made that allowed her the chance to be here. This was something only she could do for the Illidari, and thus it was imperative she do her duty.
Perhaps it would have been easier to manage these feelings if Remnii was still alive, she thought. Remnii’s presence in the world had been a comfort to her more than she had realized. A beacon to point this world toward the real enemy. Now extinguished, there was a deep worry for what the future held. As these worries and anxieties gripped and festered in Nyxxa’s mind, something she had thought she had put behind her began to creep back into her life uninvited. She would talk about it with whomever she could at the time, but it never seemed to be enough.
She found herself working in the forge building and repairing weapons for the war effort, as it was good to be productive, and utilize one’s energy for creative endeavours. However, as much as she tried to find comfort in the familiar settings, the forge had changed with it’s biggest personality gone. The absence was overpowering when she lingered too long, and acted as a reminder to what had happened and all the things that were spiralling out of control. Despite this, given the losses that the Broken Blade had endured she felt it necessary to lend a hand where it was needed.
This proved to be an error in judgment. The force that was needed to hammer down the metal at her forge served to be an adequate vent of frustration. But it was one that allowed the anger in her soul to bubble up and burst all at once. She would be pounding out the kinks in a sword one moment, and in the next moment throwing that same sword against the wall. At that point all she could do was stutter out an apology, clean up the mess she had made, and leave the forge as fast as she could as Vaerux’s laughter echoed through her head.
She needed a new outlet. A new way to be productive and channel her anger before someone got hurt.
In the coming months she opted to take up woodcarving. Useful, as it helped her resupply on arrows for her bow, and it was something she could do even while out on the road delivering messages. Not only that, but working with wood seemed familiar to her- as though it was something she had at least tried in the past. It was comforting, but still a challenge.
The basics were easy enough to grasp. But as Nyxxa delved deeper into the craft she began to hit a wall in understanding its complexities. As it turned out, wood could be just as stubborn as metal.
And once more the anger would bubble up in that frustration. Yet this time, Nyxxa would break herself out of a blind rage to find she had stabbed her hand with her tools, and her felblood had seeped into and ruined her work.
For a while she wallowed, uncertain what to do next. Though Nyxxa was never the type to wallow for long, and soon began asking around for something she could do and looking into the things that others did for creative outlets.
And it was here that the idea was planted in her head to take up music. Specifically, woodwinds.
Between both Levia and Gramgun suggesting such things, Nyxxa figured it was better than wallowing. That and it truly seemed like it could be fun. And so in the coming months, Nyxxa would both receive lessons from the orcs that would teach her, and retreat to the upper reaches of the great tree to practice what she had learned. She found it a simple instrument enough, and with her new skills with wood if the piece was damaged it could always be fixed and replaced. Anger and frustration would happen as her fingers fumbled about learning the positions, and one or two of the practice instruments ended up broken But, if her affliction couldn’t be dealt with it was best if it was handled in this safer way.
Nyxxa would allow herself to get angry in these settings and unleash her own inner demon. Herself as a satyr, specifically, though Vaerux would still include his unwanted input on the matter. And having that handled she found herself more at peace. She returned to woodworking and eventually she returned to the forge.
Things would be dealt with in time. And eventually there would be a day where she could act. But for now, it was best to take things as they came.
One day at a time.
Many thoughts weighed heavy on Nyxxa’s mind as winter struck hard on a land unprepared for it.
Day by day the Horde marched on this world, ripping the land apart, furthering the Legion’s plans of conquest. Frostmourne was out there, furthering the Legion’s plans- whether it’s devotees realized this or not. The Black Dragon flight continued to plot whatever they were plotting, reaping the benefits of the chaos created by war.
And despite all this, Nyxxa had yet to see any Kal’dorei presence. The idea of them still deciding to intervene or if they had simply no idea what was happening were both equally troubling. After all, they should know better than anyone else that the longer you wait to address corruption, the more difficult it is to purge.
Draenor was also on her mind, and what she might do and say when she got there. But as far as that was concerned, all she could do was wait for news. There was no point in crossing over to the Twisting Nether now if no one had any idea where the remains of Draenor were. Hastiness would lead to wasted time. It was important to be patient, and that Nyxxa could deal with.
What instead plagued the demon hunter’s thoughts was her powerlessness. Evil dug it’s roots deeply all around her, growing stronger and stronger by the day, and all she could do was watch it grow.
That wasn’t true.
She could act if she wanted to.
Act and undo all the work she had done. Act and put the people she had come to care for in jeopardy for associating with her. Act and make worthless every single sacrifice made that allowed her the chance to be here. This was something only she could do for the Illidari, and thus it was imperative she do her duty.
Perhaps it would have been easier to manage these feelings if Remnii was still alive, she thought. Remnii’s presence in the world had been a comfort to her more than she had realized. A beacon to point this world toward the real enemy. Now extinguished, there was a deep worry for what the future held. As these worries and anxieties gripped and festered in Nyxxa’s mind, something she had thought she had put behind her began to creep back into her life uninvited. She would talk about it with whomever she could at the time, but it never seemed to be enough.
She found herself working in the forge building and repairing weapons for the war effort, as it was good to be productive, and utilize one’s energy for creative endeavours. However, as much as she tried to find comfort in the familiar settings, the forge had changed with it’s biggest personality gone. The absence was overpowering when she lingered too long, and acted as a reminder to what had happened and all the things that were spiralling out of control. Despite this, given the losses that the Broken Blade had endured she felt it necessary to lend a hand where it was needed.
This proved to be an error in judgment. The force that was needed to hammer down the metal at her forge served to be an adequate vent of frustration. But it was one that allowed the anger in her soul to bubble up and burst all at once. She would be pounding out the kinks in a sword one moment, and in the next moment throwing that same sword against the wall. At that point all she could do was stutter out an apology, clean up the mess she had made, and leave the forge as fast as she could as Vaerux’s laughter echoed through her head.
She needed a new outlet. A new way to be productive and channel her anger before someone got hurt.
In the coming months she opted to take up woodcarving. Useful, as it helped her resupply on arrows for her bow, and it was something she could do even while out on the road delivering messages. Not only that, but working with wood seemed familiar to her- as though it was something she had at least tried in the past. It was comforting, but still a challenge.
The basics were easy enough to grasp. But as Nyxxa delved deeper into the craft she began to hit a wall in understanding its complexities. As it turned out, wood could be just as stubborn as metal.
And once more the anger would bubble up in that frustration. Yet this time, Nyxxa would break herself out of a blind rage to find she had stabbed her hand with her tools, and her felblood had seeped into and ruined her work.
For a while she wallowed, uncertain what to do next. Though Nyxxa was never the type to wallow for long, and soon began asking around for something she could do and looking into the things that others did for creative outlets.
And it was here that the idea was planted in her head to take up music. Specifically, woodwinds.
Between both Levia and Gramgun suggesting such things, Nyxxa figured it was better than wallowing. That and it truly seemed like it could be fun. And so in the coming months, Nyxxa would both receive lessons from the orcs that would teach her, and retreat to the upper reaches of the great tree to practice what she had learned. She found it a simple instrument enough, and with her new skills with wood if the piece was damaged it could always be fixed and replaced. Anger and frustration would happen as her fingers fumbled about learning the positions, and one or two of the practice instruments ended up broken But, if her affliction couldn’t be dealt with it was best if it was handled in this safer way.
Nyxxa would allow herself to get angry in these settings and unleash her own inner demon. Herself as a satyr, specifically, though Vaerux would still include his unwanted input on the matter. And having that handled she found herself more at peace. She returned to woodworking and eventually she returned to the forge.
Things would be dealt with in time. And eventually there would be a day where she could act. But for now, it was best to take things as they came.
One day at a time.