Build A Better You

[westfallcorndog]

A lovely fall day (but aren’t they all, in their own way?) finds plaid-shirted Harrowheart on a bench in the Parklands. His legs sprawl out in front of him, his arms loop around the back of the bench, and his hands – detached and floating magically just above his lap – are laced at the fingers, anchored together in the air. Despite the space he perhaps rudely takes up, he’s mindfully left room next to himself for at least one other person should they decide to join him. He’s noticed in the Nexus that when people talk, other people have a tendency to arrive, and so he pays no mind to how many or how few people are around.

“It’s Hallow’s End where I come from,” he says. “It’s a Fall festival. Used to be about the harvest, and I’m from a farmin’ land, so that was always good for me... But now it’s about a little more. During Hallow’s End some folks on my world freed themselves from an evil king who held ‘em under a spell that made ‘em lose control of their minds. Now folks all over my world celebrate Hallow’s End as a time to reflect on who they are, who they want to be, and where they came from. We think about what’s holdin’ us back in the present from achievin’ our dreams. We remember times when we weren’t allowed to be ourselves and say goodbye to grudges from our past so we can move on and be free from negativity. Guess you could say it’s a holiday about tearin’ yourself down and buildin’ yourself back up a little better.”

He shrugs, and with a welcoming smile asks, “So? What’s somethin’ you once needed or still need to free yourself from so you can live the life you want?"

Comments

[westfallcorndog]

"Avoid the war? Shoot, Forty. Guess that... Guess that can't be easy when you're Forsaken. 'Least as a death knight I could always pretend to be Forsaken and waltz right into the Undercity if the Alliance ever turned on me. Not that I'd last long in the Undercity."

He eyes her up and down, lips pursed in thought. "How do you do it? How do you put up with people like Garrosh and Vol'jin in charge? Orcs and trolls everywhere... It's just. It's gotta be a hard thing to adjust to, huh?"

[dembonyhips]

"I used to stay in Dalaran. Neutral fuckin' territory where everybody at least respected every-fucking-body else's damned space." Sure, she was a Warlock, but she didn't exactly scream it to the Heavens while she stayed in the floating city. It was one of those 'worst kept secret' deals.

As long as she behaved, she was largely fine.

That said, she does bristle a little at the mention of Garrosh. "Fuck that racist orc asshole with a rusty fucking god damned sideways pike. Nobody had any say about that except fucking Thrall, from what I heard. The rest of us were fucking tools to that fucking tool."

Which is to say, dealing with Garrosh was pretty much just a big bag of fuck no. "And because of that fucking asshole, anyone who was a horde race got fucking kicked out of Dalaran." she tossed her hands up in frustration.

"...Vol'jin's better. He hasn't tried nearly any-fucking-thing as crazy, or he's at least better at fucking hiding it if he is. I haven't fuckin' heard anything, anyway."

[westfallcorndog]

What a sailor-mouthed lady! She's a novelty for sure, and one which Harrow finds some great amusement in. He listens to her rant, grinning all the while. So maybe that's not what he intended to happen, but he can still be entertained by it, right?

"So when you were in Dalaran, was that back in the Northrend campaign? Shoot, we mighta passed each other by back then and never even knew it. You mighta seen me when I was still a breather! I bit the dust up there in Dragonblight, wound up Scourgin' it up in Icecrown. You're a neutral sorta lady, you spend any time with the Argents then, or?..."

[dembonyhips]

He got her ranting on Garrosh. Much like Arthas before him, Fortyskey would, if there was no threat of retaliation in the form of being flattened like the squishy caster she is, have plenty of very not nice things to say to the former Warchief.

"In Northrend and a little bit afterwards thanks to fuckin' portals and shit," she waved a hand and shrugged. "I don't really spend much time with th' Crusade. I'm a fucking corpse who cusses a lot and slings around more fire than is probably healthy."

And summons demons.

But she'll leave that implied.

"I know a few fuckin' folks with 'em, but I kinda just do my own damn thing most of the time. Usually for whoever fuckin' pays me."

Or drops a rare mount. Damn you, Arthas.

[westfallcorndog]

Harrow nods along. He gets it, he gets it.

"So, like. Where are you from? You remember bein' alive, or not? I'm a Westfall guy," he says, as if it weren't obvious from the redneck rays radiating from every pore of his being. "And now that I think about it, I ain't ever met another undead from Westfall. I know there's gotta be some of us. Somethin' tells me you're not, though."

[dembonyhips]

"Pretty damn far from fuckin' Westfall," she shrugged, "I was in Lordaeron when Arthas and the Scourge plowed through for the fucking Sunwell and shit. Only got my fucking mind a little bit before we hit Northrend."

Then she frowned, lapsing into thought to try and figure it out. Warcraft Timelines are Bullshit. "I think that's about when it was. Shit blends together after a while and sometimes it's hard to tell. Either way, I'm a Lordaeron girl, not a Westfall one." Another shrug.