Accounts

Unfortunance

--

...

...I...

...I didn't think...

...I didn't think YOU... after all this time...

--

[Eastern Plaguelands]

Skeletons... zombies... and even giants made of rotting flesh, looking as if they were stitched together. I could only see as the Light's Hope Cathedral, shining beacon of justice that stood for all the good that mattered in this insane world of ours, whether on Azeroth, or the prospects of Outland... under attack by the awful Scourge. And aiding these undead beasts, these rotted souls... Death Knights...

Former heroes, either fallen or rescued from the complete brink of death by the hand of the Lich King, infused with what I saw was an unholy triad of power... I heard these agents obey the Lich King without question. And here they were, facing off against the might of the Argent Dawn. There were warriors and paladins who donned the tabard of black and a white sun, and they didn't discriminate by race: humans, dwarves, tauren, orcs, draenei, night, blood, and high elves, and even the Forsaken made up the ranks of this righteous organization. And the great hero of the Argents... Tirion Fordring...

They were locked in battle with the Scourge... and... they were...

Losing???

All this I saw from the safety of an overlook more than fifty yards away, my sight heightened with the acuity of eagle eyes. My dearest companion, my hyena Zeikfried, I could hear his uneasiness, growling lowly at what his own canid instincts could sense. I set my mail-clad glove on his head after I finished channelling, shushing his worry.

"It's alright, old friend... we'll be fine out here." I assured him, offering him a piece of my favorite fruit, a snapvine watermelon. It seemed like my hyena is the only one who's adjusted to the taste of fruit alongside their sole diet of meat. "The fighting is all the way out THERE. Those attacking Scourge wouldn't take their eyes off of the Argents."

But the sudden twitching of Zeikfried's ears, and not to mention his heightened snarling, always meant that danger was nearby, and that I was going to eat my words. A lone figure was walking towards the both of us. It seemed smaller than an elf or human, and it was even tinier than a dwarf, so it was a gnome, by trial of elimination. The flowing ebon plate robes and hood the creature had, along with it's glowing rune sword, and unholy blue eyes glowing from the faceless shadow, however, was what put me on edge, enough for my beast to continue growling threateningly, while I had my bow at the ready. It was armed just like the ones attacking the Argent Dawn.

A death knight.

"The living..."

The voice, though tainted with a metallic echo, sounded female. A gnome woman.

"Death... to the living!"

Zeikfried immediately jumped the gun, leaping at the death knight. And the fight began. Between us, the creature fired it's bursts of unholy power against me, while I swore I pumped arrow upon arrow, charged with natural and arcane powers, into the evil gnome. And Zeikfried did his best to keep us separated. I watched my pet sink his fangs at every chance it had. The pallid brown terrain of the Plaguelands was our battlefield, and flashes of green, shining white, and grisly black fired all over us, my eyes taking all of this.

The death knight charged forward once more, rushing past Zeikfried and brandishing her giant sword at me, swearing that I saw the sword caked with blood of those she had slain. Luckily, before her sword made contact with my flesh, she cursed out loud, seething with hate. Zeikfried had sank his fangs into her leg, possibly ripping at the monster's tendon. This gave me the perfect opening.

"Bestial... WRATH!"

The moment I called out my attack, Zeikfried continued snarling and biting on the miniature death knight. And even I felt the effects of the fury, and everything looked red to me; it's not like the other times where I came close to perishing, and the seeing red was because of blood vessels popping. This was the crimson from fury. And I could hear myself scream aloud, firing arrow after arrow into the death knight, stinging the monster with arcane and nature magic!

But then... the unthinkable happened.

The death knight roared aloud, tightened its grip on its blade, and swung her sword with great power as Zeikfried lept at her, his fangs soaked in blood and ready to lodge them into her head. It was one sudden, clean sweep of the death knight's sword. But the horror of seeing my partner, my hyena's body flung to the side with a massive gash in him, the blood pooling out of his body. He wasn't moving... The monster felled my dearest friend in one overpowered slash.

The swing it performed had also lifted her hood off of her head. And I couldn't believe it... it was a gnome female, like I surmised earlier. But... she had blue hair. It was of a soft hue, like the shine of a wisp; and her hair was done up in pigtails... her face looked vibrant, smooth, with a soft and creamy skin tone, even with the unwelcome sight of her glowing blue eyes.

But... it... it couldn't be... It couldn't be her...

"Death... to the living!"

All that came next was an ethereal hand of darkness being cast out of the gnome's shadow, and it had me in a death grip, pulling me closer to this evil-grinning minion of undeath. I couldn't even reach for my daggers in time as her hefty sword came at me, my body flying right into her--

--

...Aaaahh...

...Yeah... she got me... in the stomach... she ran her sword straight through me...

...And now here I lay... with this monster... no... she couldn't have been turned...

...Now, her face is sneering at me... sneering with victory...

...I... can't last much longer...

...But now... a shine of light... in the distance...?

...What... happened to the light... it felt so warm...

"...No..."

...Is that... the death knight...?

"No... what have I... what have I done?!"

...Her face... her glowing eyes... are they... tearing up?

"Bel...? What have I done to you?!"

...It is...

"...Bet--...Bettina..."

"Bel, I'm sorry!" ...She's... holding me? "Bel, this is all my fault!! This is like some horrible, awful nightmare! There was the ruins of Stratholme, and all the fire and undead, and--by the Light... that gnome... I had to murder that gnome too! And all those people!"

"...Bettina..."

...She's sounding more frantic... hysterical... I can see... the tears... "E-even if they were Scarlets, I killed so many!! So many other innocent people died because of all of us!! ...Because of me...!" ...Her head... it's on my chest... "Bel... Belcorona... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry!!"

...She's... crying?? ...I can't... move my arms or legs... I'm feeling... faint...

"...Bettina... I..."

"Please don't talk! I'll fix you up! I'll take you to the nearest village!" ...I can hear her panic... "They'll fix you up, then I'll make everything right again! Please, please don't die on me!"

"...Bettina... I'm... glad... to see you... one last time..."

"No! Don't say that! Don't you EVER say that! DON'T DIE ON ME, BELCORONA!!! DON'T DIE ON ME!!!!"

"...Bettina... I... I love... you..."

--

With eyes closed, and one last breath uttered, Belcorona Fadeleaf departed the mortal coil. The gaping wound left by the owner's sword, having pierced through mail metal and broken daggers, having passed through his vitals and tinting the foul ground a deeper crimson, was too critical to heal up with mere bandages and sutures. The hand of the night elf had hit the ground lifelessly.

Bettina Gyrospark, former warrior turned death knight, kept shaking her head in furious denial. She didn't want to accept the truth of her friend's heart torn asunder and beating no longer; she didn't want to accept that she cut open her comrade's loyal hyena in half with her runesword; she didn't want to accept that she ended the life of the femme night elf who she had her heart set for and whom she gave herself to. She almost wished that she would've remained blissfully ignorant and under the thrall of the Scourge, so she wouldn't recall that encompassing flash of light that washed over her, and how memories returned of her special night with Belcorona, of how she took the beautiful night elf that one night in Ashenvale, and then left before he could awaken.

But the truth had caught up with her before she could even start denying; she became a murderer, guided by the will of the Lich King, and in her wanderlust, rather than partake in the battle against the Argent Dawn, she broke formation and sought other entertainment; a lone night elf with beast in tow, a perfect test for her strength and a perfect way to pass the time. There was fury in the night elf's eyes when she slew the enraged hyena. The look on Belcorona's face when Bettina impaled him would be ingrained into her memory. A memory forever haunting her.

She cried out even louder, her head buried in the beautiful body's chest, tears running down her shut eyes. She cared little for the fact her wounds were recuperating quickly, ignoring the sensation of her blood slithering back into her body and sealing off the puncture wounds. She couldn't stop her lament, wouldn't stop her lament for anything. An angry swarm of monsters, fiends, Argents, night elves, or anything, wouldn't separate her from her special one's body.

"Bel... BEL... I'm--I'M SORRY... I'M SORRY!" Her hand took to the night elf's cheek. "I would've come see you after Stratholme... I really would've! I would've stuck by your side--I wouldn't wander ever again..." Her small body hobbled on top of the body's chest. His lips looked so still, so silent, so soft. "Please... don't leave me..." Her hands cupped his cheeks once more, her head sunk in sorrow, her tears dropping down onto the corpse beneath her. "Please..."

She yearned so much for his touch, for his taste. Her head nuzzled against his, her sobbing unceasing. Her eyes, coated with tears and the blue glow hiding the red her eyes have taken, focused intently on the lips. Soft, purple, barely coated with blood, unbruised; they looked perfect to her. Her head turned suddenly, disgusted with the very notion that she would take the body of the man she loved. And yet, an irrational part of her told her to take what little comfort she should allow herself.

She was finding it hard to argue with herself; what she was even considering thinking of doing was disgusting, and highly taboo, remembering being disgusted multiple times over from a single conversation about how any living person could have relations with a Forsaken. And even more so, to do this on the person she murdered, it would be highly evil and selfish of her. And yet, the anguish inside her body felt like the Maelstrom inside her; if his spirit still lingered inside his corpse, perhaps she could give him one last respite before his spirit would depart, and in addition, it would comfort her enough to figure out what to do with herself now that she has been freed from the Scourge.

Her cold, plate-encased hands took Belcorona's still-warm cheeks, and after a few more seconds of hesitation, she planted her lips against his. Her eyes opened in a horror, then shut just as quickly, feeling what amount of warmth his lips still offered her. The warmth from those two pieces of flesh coursed through her ever-chilled body, feeling much needed heat all over her body, as well as a familiar heat below her waist.

Her lips continued their frantic notion, the cold oral flesh pressing and pushing onward, intent on taking more heat to make herself feel something once more. Her hands threw her gloves off, the harsh sound of metal against hard earth ringing to dead and ignorant ears, so she could then plant them against his pale purple cheeks. She was groaning lowly, her lips kissing, pressing, pushing, and even tugging hungrily on the corpse's lips, taking turns between the upper and lower lips. Her hands pushed gently into his cheeks, popping his mouth and teeth open. She had already re-familiarized herself with the taste of his lips, and now she was going to remind herself of his lengthy tongue.

She sealed her lips on his own, sliding her tiny tongue inside his mouth, her pink muscle trying its hardest to wrap itself around the soft muscle inside the elf's mouth. It tasted like many: it had a perfectly wet feel, she could taste the saliva, the metallic copper-like tang of the blood, the combined tastes of meats, breads, fishes, and many fruits, but most important of all to her: his tongue still tasted the same. She felt herself get even hotter, her tongue continuing to suck and constrict on the body's cooling organ, one of her hands absentmindedly moving away from his face to sliding underneath her flowing metal robes, her fingers immediately cupping and probing her pussy.

Bettina continued tongue-fucking his mouth while her south-bound fingers slid inside her sex, her digits fervently fingering themselves. Her lips pressed themselves constantly against Belcorona's, while her tongue continued savoring him, her groaning and grunts becoming more hectic and frantic. As she kept sucking and savoring on him, she could start to feel the heat dissipating from his body, almost as if her somewhat Scourged body was leeching the warmth from his recently murdered body. Her groans picked up in frantic intensity, with her tongue pushing itself beyond its own attachment and touching the back of his mouth, while her fingers pumped as fast as a piston inside her hungry snatch.

Bettina couldn't resist any longer. She let go of his lips, screaming aloud as she shuddered herself into a hasty climax, feeling her juices squirt and ooze out of her unsatisfied sex. Her cry, however, was not one of passion; she knew intently that no matter how many times she would think about doing this, it wouldn't feel the same as her first time with him. A lifeless body could not satisfy the cravings she desired, she surmised as fresh tears flowed out of her shut eyes once more. The very thought of replacing him with someone else would be unthinkable to her. And yet the touch of another was what she craved, and if it would not come from her beloved Belcorona, it would have to come from someone else.

Her mind was trapped with a decision-entrapping conundrum. She sat there, covered in her shame, her fingers and lips shamed and forever burdened with the sins she committed.

"Bel... I-I'm sorry... please forgive me..." She said quietly, and tearfully. She had stood up beside the fallen body, looking at the damage she had done. Walking over to pick up her heavy plate gloves and slipping them back on once more, she then gripped her heavy blade once more. With teary eyes, she looked out to the Light's Hope Chapel in the distance, seeing it shine simply. "I swear to you... I-I'll make it up to you... even if I have to suffer my whole life... I will fight for you... I'll fight for the both of us."

With the simple shutting of her eyes, and a weakened curve of her lips upward, her hands glowed with a dark aura, feeling herself shifting away from reality as a gateway opened up in front of her. She looked back at the fallen body, seeing that two mounted soldiers, looking to be of the Argent Dawn, were riding towards her direction. With a simple nod, she stepped into the gateway of darkness to the Ebon Hold.

"...Goodbye, Bel... I'll always love you..."