The prompt: A situational site-write: your character has been offered a job.
- Kharnis of Moon Guard US

"What are you still doing here, whelp?"
Adriestia looked up from the book she was casually inspecting, open in her hand to a diagram of a certain scrying circle. She met the angry emerald gaze of one of the Scryers' lieutenants, taking a step backward as she recoiled from the vitriolic address. "I beg your pardon?"
"'I beg your pardon, Lieutenant,' and I asked what you were doing here." The dark-haired blood knight sneered down at the young girl, reaching over to close the book with one gauntleted hand. She took it from the girl and set it back on the shelf.
"I beg your pardon, Lieutenant Dawnforge, but I don't understand what you mean." Adries smiled placidly, turning back toward the bookshelf.
"You know as well as I do that the 'Netherblood' cell of our operation was dissolved months ago, and we can't afford to support hangers-on." She grabbed the warlock's wrist in midair, wrenching the girl around to face her once more. "Go back to Silvermoon to cut your teeth, Nether-be-damned tramp." Dawnforge let the caster go, turning on her heel to march angrily out of the Seer's Library. It was only after a moment Adries realized that the Lieutenant hadn't been wearing the Scryers' colors, as she usually did so proudly.
Adriestia didn't reach for the book again; though the blood knight was a rapidly receding memory, she was sure someone would be happy to repeat Dawnforge's performance.
A few moments later -- though it could have been hours, for all Adries knew -- there was a soft, cold hand on her shoulder.
"Don't mind the Lieutenant," Volali murmured comfortingly. "She's just lost her brother and --"
"I'm sure she doesn't need you making excuses for her, Enchantrix," Adries sighed.
"Yes, well ... I don't think she needs to know, do you?" The warlock only shook her head. Volali straightened, glancing up at the book the blood knight had wedged into the topmost shelf. She laid it out in Adriestia's hands. "When you're finished with that, you'll put it back where it belongs," she said. Not imperiously, but with the conviction of someone who could judge the future. "And once you've done that, maybe you wouldn't mind helping us do the same for others, who aren't so courteous?"

The prompt: List seven reasons to turn down a marriage proposal.
- Prompt #296, Creative Writing Prompts

"So," Adriestia asked, over her morning tea, "if he ever were to ask, why should I say no to him?"
Zahrah laughed softly, flipping through a small notebook absently. "I got a letter asking the same question last week, you know, although it was more along the lines of 'Help! My family wants me to marry this man, but I don't want to! How do I get out of it?' I ended up recommending to the girl that she join the priesthood and take a vow of chastity."
"You don't think that will actually work, I hope. Since I've come to Silvermoon, I've seen 'priestesses' caught up in all unseemly manner of things." She regarded the demon across the table evenly. The Sayaad refused to meet her eyes, snapping her notebook closed. Most thought it odd that Adriestia allowed her pacted servant a side-job, as it were, but many were glad of the succubus' romantic guidance, in the form of her weekly column. "But, if Sathien were to ask, why should I say no?"
Zahrah lifted her chin then to regard the warlock dourly. Adries had become aware some time ago that Zahrah didn't actually approve of her relationship with Sathien, but she knew the succubus wouldn't say anything.

It wasn't her place.
"Well, I doubt your father would approve, mistress," she opened, laying the book down on the kitchen table. Adries' eyes flashed with anger, lifting the teacup to her lips. After a moment's contemplation, the warlock cleared her throat.
"And he would approve of Alekzander, then? He'd approve of me, in all my red-haired glory with a demon at my side? I think not. Try harder."
"Sathien Ambermist isn't one to make a woman happy."
"He's asking, not me. Flunk."
"You saw how his last marriage worked out, with him running to the arms of another woman. Not that I'm blaming you in that, mistress ..."
"They were engaged," Adries growled, "and I didn't know about it."
Zahrah held her hands up in a surrenduring gesture, blustering out a sigh. "Let me get the last four out of the way so that you can reject them out of hand: The Tauren was right, and he's not your 'one true love,' whatever that's meant to be. You're too young to know what's right for the rest of your life. The two of you won't be able to support one-another, much less any children you might have. Oh, and?
Deep, deep down in that secret oubliette behind the walls you want to erect for yourself in your heart, you will always desire Alekzander Felsun, and you will always belong to him."
"I won't!" the warlock shrieked. "I hate him, I hate everything about him! He disgusts me!"
"He owns you, mistress, as surely as you own me, and you learn to fear -- and to love -- those who hold you in thrall."

The Prompt: A first time for everything ... This is another historical site-write, how well do you know your character?
- Jende of Moon Guard US

Adriestia swallowed, hard. If she did this thing, she was not her father's daughter. Astore Eventide was dead, but she'd heard him questioning her mother in harsh tones when he thought she was asleep:

"... not fit for enrollment in the Farstriders, Coronis, and she failed out of the most basic arcane theory classes. Why is that?"
"I don't know, Astore!" The woman's voice was high and panicked.
"Why," the angry ranger growled, "does she have red hair? Why, when both of her parents are blonde?"
"Astore, please! She's doing the best she can --"
"And why can't she do more?"

It had taken her weeks to reconcile the angry voices she'd heard with the image of her doting father. She'd been too young, then, to understand what he was implying. She grew older. Her hair remained that deep burgundy. She watched the older girls in Sunsail Anchorage marry off and bear children -- blonde babies to blonde parents, and she understood why her loving Father was secretly ashamed of her.

"Don't you want this, Adries?" the older warlock prodded, scowling his disapproval.
"Of course I do," she murmured, not meeting his gaze.
"Then say the words and taste power beyond the grasp of your rivals."
It was easy -- it was far too easy -- to repeat the words she'd been taught, standing in that casting circle her master had scribed for her. It was easy to give in, to feel a spark of energy course through her.
The tiny imp appeared before her, and she blistered her hands as she grabbed him, holding him still as she bound him to her will.
Her master smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Very good, Apprentice Eventide."

The Prompt: The morning routine, do you ever role play it out? Or do you just slap on your gear and mount up? Well, here it is, tell me what it is your character does to get ready for the long haul.
- Jende of Moon Guard US

Routine? Pfeh, it had been months since she had a routine. Slowly sitting up and wiping the sleep from her eyes, Aurelia recognized this was as like the "old days" as things were liable to get. She yawns -- a big, unladylike display -- and only then does she look over, watching Ishbaneer set his book aside with a smile. Or as close to a smile as he could muster, at least. She leans over him, eyes scanning the spine, and her expression flickers with fond recognition.
"Told you it was a good one, eh?" she murmurs, kissing the man on his forehead. He nods in agreement, pulling his arm back from around her shoulders as she turns to rise from the bed. No words pass between them as she brushes the sleep-tangles from her hair and changes from her nightgown into a simple linen shirt and a pair of leather trousers, but it's a comfortable silence, like an unspoken understanding. Aure smudges her lips with gloss, applied by the tip of her pinky, and only lets out an amused "huh," when she turns around to regard the empty room.

She finds him by the fireside in the Gallows' End Tavern, a small glass of juice and a bowl of porridge on the table in front of him. Aure smiles gratefully at the rogue, and, if she was undainty when half asleep, she makes up for it now with all the niceties of her race.
"I kin see why ye like that one, Sunny," he offers, and it takes her a second to realize he means the book. She nods, setting her moonberry juice aside
"How far in are you?"
"Just had th' nightmare about her coronation." The elf chuckles.
"Gets better'n that, even. You'll see."
And after this brief exchange, they fall silent again. She doesn't mind, what's there to say? They said everything that needed to be said last night. Right? Swallowing down the last spoonful of porridge, she reaches for her husband's clawlike hand.
"I love you, Isaac."
"I love you too, Aure."

And then she lets him go. Lets him go from being her husband back to being the shepherd, and even after she's reliquished her hold on him, it takes the man a moment to pull away from her.

The prompt: List 10-15 things worth saving, then choose one of those things and write about it.
- Prompt #64, Creative Writing Prompts

"Why loose your venom on me?" Roberts asked, eyeing the princess warily.
"You killed my love." There were tears straining Buttercup's voice, but she stood her ground.
"It's possible," the pirate said nonchalantly. "I kill a lot of people. Who was this love of yours? Another Prince, like this one, ugly, rich, and scabby?" His tone was laced with disdain.
"No," she said sharply. "A farm boy. Poor. Poor and perfect, with eyes like the sea after a storm. On the high seas --"

Aurelia threw the book across the room, whimpering.
It wasn't the first time she'd read the book -- it had been her favorite as a child. And she'd never seen Isaac Shatten's eyes, but the aching in her chest told her it was probably true.

He still loved her.
"Faithfulness, he talked of, madam, your enduring faithfulness." The tone that read the words was mocking, and when Aurelia Sunhome looked up, she was unsurprised to meet the slanting, reptilian eyes of Ralistrasza in her blood elven guise. "Taking a trip down memory lane, are we?"
"None of your business, whelp," the paladin said stonily, drawing one knee up under her chin and draping her arms around it.
"I can only wonder which you're mourning, Danashj: that you left Derenel for Ishbaneer, or that you left Ishbaneer for Derenel."
"Isaac," she corrected. "His name is Isaac."
"Not since he died," the dragon smirked cruelly. "Here's what I don't understand. You bargained a debt of servitude: his lifetime. A lifetime in our service equal to the number of years he would live. Derenel took on that debt, and then you completely disregard his sacrifice in leaving the poor boy we were supposed to be helping."
"Here's what I don't understand, Ralistrasza," the elf sighed. "Why meddle in mortal affairs?"
"It amuses me," the girl replied, tossing her hair. "Despite what you think, though, I didn't plan for you to fall in love with the boy. Derenel was my servant, and I don't like him thinking himself beholden to another."
"I didn't plan it either."
"And I didn't send the rogue to you."
"I never said you did."
"And we had an agreement."
"Aeliristrasz and I did, yes," Aurelia nodded.
"And Derenel took on your debt."
"I don't understand why I didn't have any say in that."
"And it wasn't my idea for you to sleep with him," the girl went on, and the elf rolled her eyes.
"And what's your point, Ralistrasza?"
"And I didn't kill him."
"Didn't kill whom?"
"Derenel."

The Prompt: Site-write, if you've never done it before it's pretty simple. A short little blurb completely improvised and spell-checked on the spot. A little brain exercise to help you better understand your character. Faith or drive is important, if you have a hard time writing this it'd be best to think about the composition of your character some more.
- Jende of Moon Guard US

"Happy we'll be," the elf sang merrily to herself in Goblin, "beyond the sea, and never again, I'll go sailin'." She'd unabashedly sang to herself almost the entire journey, and it had been a long one indeed. The Defilers had been generous enough to lend her one of their skeletal horses when she arrived in Hammerfall, and the strange animal had served her all the way to the Sepulcher, where she left it in the care of its masters.
At her heels, a tiny netherwhelp had fluttered most of the way. She carried him now, like he were a tired child.
"Think he'll be happy to see me?" she asked Rothaku, smiling as if she already knew the answer. Of course he would. He was her husband. He'd be just as overjoyed as she was. She had run through every sea shanty she knew, but that was alright -- she didn't plan to do much more sailing, as the man said.

The rain fell soft on the rooftops of Brill, the Deathguard barely acknowledging her presence, but she didn't care. She'd traveled the whole of Azeroth, walked the whole of Lordaeron, and she knew in her heart one thing after it all:
She belonged here.
It was good to be home.