Wow. This would be difficult. In general, Gentil loves kisses! They make him feel alive no matter who is making his heart pitter patter! When Riley first kissed him Gentil was very melty…but first kisses are always the best. So without the boring answer his FAVORITE kiss in the last few months was when he grabbed Paramonos by the ears and kissed him on the lips! He was trying to break the tension that night and make everyone in the group take a step back. It worked!
reblog this and i’ll send you a peculiar message
this is the most fun i’ve had in ages
It’s that time again when WoW is being maintained by the Blizzard Gods! I slept in today but I’m awake now x.x
Workers bustled in and about the office and adjoining rooms. Ribbons of caution decorated the doors of the Silvermoon Registry and had for some time now, since the construction which would expand the building had begun.
Elder Registrars bent with their heads over ledgers and books, working…
2 years, 40 weeks and 4 days.
This is the amount of time that has passed since Gentil Webb’s Awakening. It is this amount of time that has been given to him so far in his story to get where he is today. As he lies sleeping (or perhaps unconscious) on his bedroom floor, there is a brief interlude where somewhere in the distance a sad song plays to grab the readers attention before there is a fade out in the lights. Gentil goes on softly dreaming until the reader is pulled into a brief collection of images from the forever covered mirror that somehow never gets removed but is always hidden in Gentil’s quarters.
We see him waking up in Tranquillien, saved from near death. His robes are shredded from the Nerubians that helped put all those scars on his back when he was dumped face first in Suncrown Village. We see Matron Narsilia nursing him back to health and when he was asleep, going through his old messenger bag for identification. What we see is her pulling out an old journal and growing very pale as she reads it. She seals it shut with a spell and hides it where he won’t find it.
Gentil rolls on his side, clutching his messenger bag. The reader is aware that it is the one item that is the same in both the present time and his flashback and he seems to covet it very carefully. He whimpers and settles, drifting into more dreams.
Gentil is seen frightened in the city, being saved by a dark cloaked figure that promised to take care of him and protect him. But the figure is unpredictable and seems to turn to fast, throwing our protagonist to the pavement. The dark, cloaked figure says nothing, collecting others to watch on as Gentil picks himself up and apologizes.
This strange libretto goes on for several scenes among various characters as if the ability to learn has been lost. Stuck perhaps, living in a never-ending chord that repeats itself until one very strong rock n roll riff that breaks the cycle and makes everything stop. Somewhere in the distance, harp strings are plucked one at a time until the vibrations of the last note are seen in a ripple of water on a sunny day.
From the water, the shape of a rose emerges; just as crystalline as the delicate surface catching the sparkling rays through the trees. Gentil is sitting next to a waterfall but his eyes are closed. His face is turned up to the spray and yet he has one hand out as if he’s trying to catch the mist in his fingers. The day grows too bright to see and it becomes a wash of white and the dream is gone.
It had been a very long campaign. Considering he’d only come home for that brief weekend at Hallow’s End, Gentil had been in Durotar since the end of September and his body felt every moment of it. He had dropped fifteen pounds, suffered layers of blisters and had the least amount of sleep than he’d had in years. His nerves were about as thin as his threads.
But here he was, finally in the Ghostlands and dragging his feet up the path to Ryder Estate. It was very early in the morning and he hoped that no one would be awake to hear him arrive. He hadn’t sent word ahead, knowing that he would at least still have his rooms and that Jav’ris would not have changed anything on him. Gentil was normally a very private elf and a little particular.
He slipped into the front hall and listened. It was dark and quiet; the Estate was likely still asleep. Gentil adjusted the bag on his bony shoulder and tip-toed to the stairs - still no sounds aside from his own steps. Gentil had no energy to summon Light to him here and simply pulled himself up the stairs without a levitation, despite how heavy his feet felt. It was as if the very steps were made of mud, trying to drag him back down again to the step behind him even after every triumphant mounting. But eventually he made it to the top and faded down the hallway to his quarters.
He unlocked the door and slipped inside as if he were suddenly safe and closed off from the outside world. Sliding down the door and to the soft carpet he closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar scents of his bedroom and hoped it would be enough to get some rest. But even as his eyes were sinking closed, a voice in the back of his mind told him he should have tied himself up… but consciousness was quickly fading…