Dollhouse

[Visant]

((Several crumpled pieces of paper have been torn out of a sketchbook and discarded at random places in the Daystar home. The runes written on the sheets would be unintelligible to most who might try to read them, as the language is not in common usage amongst the Horde.))

The end is finally here. Her suffering has been stretched out into years of painful waiting. She said it didn’t hurt but I knew she meant physical pain. All I had to do was look in her eyes to see how much it gnawed at her mind and wormed its way into her spirit.

With my uncle’s defeat I felt like a weight had been lifted from me. Izrail said he loved me and would stay. After months of feeling frustrated and powerless it seemed my life had turned a corner. Yes, there were lingering problems but they looked easily surmountable. I temporarily forgot about that bitch called Fate.

When I returned to Shattrath after a good night of running with Avielandil and company the letter was waiting for me. “You are needed, come home,” the paper said. I teleported back to Silvermoon and went to the family house right away.

They were waiting in the corridor by her bedroom door, all of them full of bewildered fear and resigned acceptance. I think Vachel was the only one happy to see me. I ignored the pointed looks of disgust, which I might have deserved a little of, and anger which was clearly misplaced.

Inside the room I stopped cold, the enormity of what had happened struck me like a hammer blow. The large bed where she and I used to sleep back when we at least pretended to be man and wife was gone. It had been replaced by a piece of furniture I recognized as Vachel’s old crib. Despite the suffocating panic I forced myself to walk over to it and look inside. It took every shred of self-control I had to not weep.

I am not ready for her to be gone.

[Visant]

The specialist is here, an elderly mage of Dalaran we have smuggled into the city. Now that we are firmly on the side of the Horde he quibbled about coming, concerned about his safety. The greedy old goat just wants more cash for his continued illicit experiments I’m sure, so it wasn’t a surprise when the offer of a larger then average sum convinced him to make the trip.

I found him years ago, the only person with enough magical knowledge, and experience with this type of affliction that might be able to help her. Even that isn’t saying much however, as the condition is so rare even he had only studied one person with it his entire long life. He even coined a name for it, Temporal Quietus. Pompous ass. He better have some idea of why she has suddenly taken a turn for the worse like this or I just might throttle that boney neck of his.

[Visant]

((There are small tears in the page from the force used by the writer using the pencil to slash the words onto the paper.))

Useless! The old wizard was completely fucking useless! He claimed to be able to measure her new rate of degeneration; he said it would be a week or two at most. How can he be so sure? Only six months ago he said that Madris had about two more years, now it is two weeks?! I wanted to hurt him very badly. He could tell and backed away from me as we spoke. He claimed that her condition had always been unstable, that his earlier estimates were based upon her rate of age loss at that moment. For some unknown reason she was now losing time at a much more accelerated rate. No shit, I had some idea when I came home to find my wife sleeping in a crib you fucking moron! I wanted to incinerate him but Lasair intervened, insisting that I not cause any more disruption by killing the bringer of bad news. I looked over at Madris’ mother and her mousy little cousin and my anger started to cool. I came out here to the garden to write and sit at the small table where she and I used to eat breakfast from time to time, before grief drove us apart.


I don’t know what to do.

[Ninorra]

((Poor Visant. =( I wish I could help.))

[Izrail]

((Oh nuts.))

[Visant]

That isn’t true. We had talked about what we might do, reluctantly, awkwardly but we did speak of it on several different occasions. No, that isn’t right either. We talked about what she would do. Arrangements had been made, she told me the details. Except now she cannot carry them out, can she?

I went to see her again. The old mage was there, muttering incantations over her, attempting to slow the effects with his experimental spells. Most likely he is mentally cataloging all of this for some research or other. I ignored him and looked at her.

She was sitting up and wearing a frilly little gown, her dark hair a cloud around her face. Someone, perhaps her mother, had given her an old fashioned doll. I could tell it was a relic from the past by the color of its delicately painted eyes, blue, as we were before the corrosive green of today. Madris, perhaps the most intelligent woman I have known, held her new toy around the neck and chewed and drooled on it with the same vapid look as the doll’s bead eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to touch her.

[Ninorra]

((This is so terribly depressing. Poor guy.))

[Visant]

Izrail has been visiting. I do not feel much like chatting so we sit in the garden or go to one of the guest rooms and he talks around what is bothering him. From what I can tell, he has been angry about the way his adopted family treats him. It pains me to see him this way, because it was so easy for them to offer and he was so desperate to accept and he doesn’t understand why they don’t seem to mean it. It hurts him, and I do not like that at all.

I still do not know the specifics, but it is clear to me that his family has betrayed his trust once too often. I am doing my best to not do the same, putting my faith in him despite my own mistrustful nature. Now Izrail thinks I am slightly mad, I can tell when he is simply humoring me. It makes me laugh, most of the time.

We usually end up in bed. Afterwards I can’t sleep for thinking ugly thoughts about Madris as she slips away and her doll and their empty eyes and the vial hidden away in its secret place.

[Visant]

No one in the house is sleeping through the night anymore, except perhaps Erastes who does not know any better. Madris is quiet one moment, seemingly content, the next she is startled awake and wailing. I don’t want to think about what she is dreaming of.

Her mother cares for her the majority of the time but occasionally I find that Bleiz is already there. He holds her carefully, with dexterous hands created for violence. A few years ago I walked in on her and Bleiz together. I turned right around and closed the door behind me quietly, not saying a word. What could I say after my own parade of sexual partners?

Still, it was painful to think of her resorting to finding comfort from a cold creature such as him. Shortly after that incident I tried to reconcile with Madris, to save our friendship if nothing else. Our conversations were strained at first, the shadow of our former lover chilled everything, but eventually we began to be more at ease with each other again. She continued to sleep with Bleiz and I continued to pick up random men. I never told her that I knew about them.

Once she is gone I may have Bleiz destroyed, I don’t know for certain right now, not because I have some need for petty revenge but because I don’t think I will be able to look at him and not be reminded of her desperate loneliness.

[Visant]

I went to retrieve it today after seeing her. It goes swiftly now; she is an infant already. She cannot even sit up on her own anymore. I put my hand down inside the crib and she grabbed at my fingers with her tiny, clumsy hand, looking up at me.

It was right where she said it would be, inside a jewelry box tucked into the bottom corner of her closet so she could easily get it without help. There is nothing special about the vial itself, clear glass that shows a thick liquid inside the color of fresh blood. I put it into my pocket, touching it obsessively throughout the day as thought it might vanish if I stop thinking about it.

To use it means I will be breaking my oath to never cause the death of any of the other survivors. I gave my promise gladly for I truly did not want to hunt them down for my own gain, yet I never foresaw the possibility that I might wish to harm one of them for some other reason. My strange dual nature allows me to be perfectly capable of murdering a child as I have done it before after all, and yet still be appalled at the notion of breaking my word. If it was anyone else I might simply cling to the tattered remains of my morals and let them pass away in pain and fear but Madris…. I owe her more then that.

She has been my one constant companion for so long, my dearest, oldest friend… It is harder then I thought to let her go. I wonder, when I finally summon up the courage to do what needs to be done, will she haunt me?

[Visant]

She is always asleep now, tiny, weak, the size of a baby delivered before a full pregnancy. If I wait a few more days she will start to gasp for air, underdeveloped lungs will make it hard to breath, and then finally will fail and she will suffocate to death. Instead I’ll wait for almost everyone to retire for the night before slipping into her room, bottle and vial in hand. It should be quick, painless. She has been fading for so long no one will suspect anything is amiss, and even if they did I really don’t give a fuck anymore.

[Visant]

((This page is half torn out of the sketchbook but instead of being completely removed it has been smoothed out and fitted back into place as best it can be.))

http://web.mac.com/heliophobe/iWeb/Site/Images/madrisyoungadult.jpg

[Ninorra]

((I didn't know her, but RIP. This is such a tragic story.))

[Visant]

((A short death notice has been torn of out the newspaper and placed between the pages of the sketchbook, next to the drawing of Madris.))

Daystar, Madris formerly of the House Sunburst, passed away at her family home in Silvermoon after a long illness. She is survived by her mother Hazris, husband Visant and daughter Vachel. Today she will be mourned in a private service to be held in the family chapel, followed by a brief public ceremony held at sunset in the graveyard located south of the Shepard’s Gate.

[Izrail]

((That is gorgeous, but I don't think I can make the public ceremony. >< No WoW tonight--prior commitments.))

[Mortica]

((love the story and the sketch!))