One of the things that can frustrate me RP-wise is the inability to get inside my characters' heads. I'm better with some characters than with others- for example, Pitch can be especially frustrating, while Shaurria is one of my easiest when it comes to knowing what she's thinking.
One reason why I enjoy playing Lark so much is that she lets me in almost anytime; she seems to speak to me while I play her.
These are snippets from a couple months ago (shortly after she and Pitch met, really), up to within the last week or two. Enjoy.
Touch. It was one of the most underrated things she knew of. It could be used to heal, and also to harm; she had been subject to both, and had given her fair share in turn. She had to admit that she considered most of the humans she had met to be rather shallow, in the way they seemed to always connect touching with intimacy. But there was so much more to it than that. Whether in shared passion or simply holding hands, she found something viscerally comforting in the feel of someone else's skin against hers.
Those thoughts flitted aimlessly through Lark's head as she leaned on her friend, the first man she had grown to trust in over four years. He said nothing, but with her ear pressed against his furry shoulder she could hear his quiet, soothing rumble. She considered herself lucky indeed, that she had found someone who not only shared her liking of physical contact, but also respected her privacy. She knew Pitch must be wondering why they were sitting outside the Pig & Whistle instead of inside, but he simply sat with her, lending her support emotionally as well as physically. He wondered, but he wouldn't ask; that was one of the things she was growing to depend on.
She wasn't ready for another relationship. It was still too soon after the last failed attempt. But she could hold on to these few moments and keep them in memory, for the next time things were dark or lonely. That was one thing her life had taught her- there was always a next time.
Soon enough the moment was interrupted, as always. "Uh, hi," she heard Pitch say to someone, and Lark opened her eyes to see a human female, one that Pitch seemed to know. She held back her sigh, and mentally steeled herself to face the world again.
* * * * * *
The sun shone down between the Park trees to dot the grass. Lark sat in one sunny patch, with Komah beside her and Tuah within arm's reach- the moonstalker still seemed in awe of the bigger cat, but no longer avoided his presence. In Lark's opinion, this was a good day.
The birdsong from the trees was disturbed by the sound of rustling robes, and Lark glanced up as Alanon approached. He stopped next to her, inclining his head politely to the huge cat at her side. Lark could feel Komah's amusement. "Mind if I sit?" She looked back up at the druid in surprise, then nodded, and he settled on the grass next to her.
"Forgive me for prying," he said after a moment. "But Pitch mentioned that you think you might be barren." Lark raised an eyebrow at him, then gave a wry half-grin. "He doesn't keep anything secret, does he?"
Alanon chuckled. "He will if you tell him to. Unless you specify, however..." Lark chuckled as well, then sobered when he did. "Have you made certain yet?" he asked gently.
Lark shook her head, then, feeling suddenly defensive, she added, "I just never got around to it. Always had something else to do..." She trailed off as Alanon held up a placating hand. "You don't have to justify it to me." he told her. "But, would you like to know?" She blinked at him, hesitating, then looked away. "I don't know."
The druid waited patiently as she sat there, feeling torn. On the one hand, it would be nice to finally know for sure. And she knew she could trust Alanon to be discreet, if she asked. But on the other hand... She hadn't had herself checked, not for lack of time, but because as long as it wasn't confirmed, she could still hope. Even if it was a false hope.
She sat without moving for several minutes as she struggled with herself. Finally, still not looking at the druid, she nodded. Alanon edged over closer, and she lifted her arms out of the way as he placed a hand lightly on her belly. His eyes closed in concentration as his fingers started glowing a faint green. Komah watched in fascination. Lark sat still, feeling nothing but a faint warmth and a tingle that seemed to move around inside her. After a few minutes, he pulled his hand away and looked up at her with compassion. "I'm sorry," was all he said.
It was the response she was waiting for, but she still felt a pang. She covered it with a shrug. "It's what I was expecting," she said simply, turning to fuss with Komah so she didn't have to meet his eyes. He reached up and squeezed her shoulder gently, then stood up and left her.
Komah looked up at her and chuffed quietly. Lark? She stroked his head, then managed a grin. "It's fine. I'd probably be a terrible mother anyway." He didn't look convinced, but he only snuggled his head in her lap, rumbling softly. She gently traced around the edges of his ears, trying not to think about anything at all.
* * * * * *
Lark lay quietly in bed, but she wasn't sleeping. Her head buzzed with the news Pitch had given her earlier that evening. Several dwarven acquaintances of his were going to Outland with a caravan of supplies, to help some of their fellows in Shadowmoon. The dwarves were asking for volunteers, and Pitch had told her as soon as he heard. Now, she couldn't sleep for thinking about it.
She hadn't realized until then how much she missed the road- the sense of freedom and space, the camaraderie of her fellow guards, and the thrill of seeing distant places. Stormwind was nice enough, and her current job paid well, but she was beginning to feel stifled. This might be a good chance to get out, to stretch her legs and see some excitement. But then, after she had gone to bed, she had started thinking of very different things altogether. Visions from her past mixed and jumbled together in her head, over and over.
A male Kal'dorei on a funeral pyre. A scarred lioness bleeding to death in her lap, while fires burned all around. A young tiger on a redstone cliff watching her fly away, his eyes full of mingled trust and confusion. A white tiger stretched out on a fresh grave, his eyes desolate. An enormous black panther throwing himself on troll spears, buying her time to escape. A wolf and a green dragon tangled together, blood and poison breath obscuring them both.
The visions continued until she felt her eyes burning. She sat up and rubbed at them, then her gaze fell on Tuah and Komah laying side-by-side, both watching her with concern. No, she thought. I don't want to go through it again. Not right now.
Suddenly the room seemed too small, too.... alone, despite the animals. She got up and pulled on a shirt and pants, then left the University grounds. Unheeded, the cats followed.
Shylamiir had gotten lax about locking up, knowing now that if anyone tried to rob her shop they'd have Pitch to contend with. Lark was grateful for that now, as she snuck into the shop and up the stairs. Pitch's door was closed, but unlocked as well. He stirred with a sleepy, inquiring noise as she slipped under the covers beside him, then he realized it was her and simply put his arms around her, pulling her in close. Lark finally felt herself relaxing, her visions banished by the druid's presence. Cradled against him, she fell asleep at last.
She missed the first caravan, which took supplies through the Portal up to Honor Hold, but she met up with them there and helped guard the wagons all the way to the Terokkar border. It was fun, however, I seem to have lost a good bit of the chatlog, so any write-ups of that don't look too likely right now. :(
Working on another big one from her past, and I hope to have it finished in a couple days. Keep checking!