((written with Zinnaella's player, with gratitude)
The sound of Shadow Raven wings presaged the return of the fellow most knew as Jon Chess to the cottage in the Blackwald Forest in the more-or-less deserted kingdom of Gilneas. The beast landed just outside the small flagstone courtyard and sat patiently while Chess unstrapped the cargo from the pack saddle he had made the creature wear. Stacking the boxes neatly off to the side of the entrance, Jon melded into the Shadows to await his client, the mysterious woman named Zinnaella, called Zinn.
From the path, Jon would see the form of a great cat slowly making its way toward the cottage. It appeared to have something in its mouth. The fur of the beast appeared to have been replaced with feathers..a very ravenlike looking beast. Clearly, the beast hadn't seen shadow raven or man, perhaps it was lost in its own bestial thoughts.
When it made it to the small gate of the cottage, the prize in its mouth was dropped to the ground. Two dead rabbits. Curiously, the figure shimmered and shifted and moments later, the naked form of Zinn stood at the gate. She still hadn't noticed anything amiss in the courtyard. Bending, she grabbed the rabbits by their ears and made her way toward the cottage. The woman, though in her 40s, still held on to the svelte figure of her youth and moved with cat-like grace. The cream-colored skin was adorned with tattoos; whorls of a burnt umber color decorated her thighs and up her hips, across her belly and up between her breasts. As she made her way past the shadow melded Jon, he would see that her back was also tattooed in the same type of patterns.
Jon held still, waiting for Zinn to pass inside before making his presence known, not wanting to startle nor embarrass her. His eyes roved over her naked form with appreciation. "Hard to think of her as naked with that tattoo... the artist must have enjoyed themselves greatly," he thought, a grin forming.
She paused in the doorway, gaze moving to the crates that weren't there before. A tilt of her head and a sniff of the air had a half grin tugging the corner of her mouth. "Please Mister Chess. Do come inside. I'll have breakfast ready in a moment." It was evident that being naked before him made her neither uncomfortable nor embarrassed. She continued her way into the large room, tossed the rabbits onto the table and moved behind the privacy screen that served at her bedroom. She dressed quickly, just a plain skirt and blouse before she moved to the table to skin the rabbits.
Jon flushed red at having been caught out, and entered as bidden, standing on the correct side of the privacy curtain as she dressed. "My apologies, Miss Zinn; I am in the admittedly-bad habit of waiting in the Shadows. I did not mean to intrude upon your privacy," he apologized. "I have brought my supplies. I intend to make an enhanced copy of the miniature if that suits you. If you are satisfied with the replacement, I can then attempt to refurbish the original - but because of the inherent risk, I want you the to have the duplicate anyway. Where should I set up?"
Zinn points to the cleared out space near her privacy screen, in a semicircular alcove surrounded by windows. "I thought you might like to have the natural light, though, not much ever really shines here." She chuckles as she rolls up her sleeves and picks up a skinning knife, grabbing a rabbit by its ears. "You must be pretty comfortable in the shadows to want to stay there all the time hmm? And don't worry about intruding on my privacy. I'm not ashamed of being nude. The naked body is what it is. Everyone has one, be they Human, Elf or Orc. It's nothing to be ashamed of." Quickly, she slits the throat of the rabbit, holding it over a bowl to catch the blood.
Jon chuckled. "I spend so much time hidden in the Shadows, I often forget; it was a lifesaving habit during the final battles against the legion, and a good idea in Zandalar as well." Jon started to move his equipment, which included a bright lamp, into the cottage. A small work desk and folding chair came first, then a magnifying lens, which was bolted to the worktable. Paints, brushes, a mixing palette, and jars of pigments were unpacked, granite mortar and pestle joining them. "Well, your body is certainly nothing to be ashamed of, to be sure. I found the artistry of your decorations to be quite well-done," he said.
"I can see where that would be a useful trait." She looks at him with a smile. "Thank you for the compliment. My whorls were given with every...well...I'm not sure that spell is the correct word for it. I am a type of of...kitchen witch. Nothing like the coven witches in Drustvar mind you. My work is strictly for helping and healing." The skinning blade was drawn through the soft belly of the rabbit, followed by her hand. The wet sound of organs and viscera being pulled from the cavity echo through the room, the contents of the rabbit set onto a plate. She watches him set up his station as she pulls the skin from the rabbit then quickly lopping off its head.
"Well, whether aesthetic or pragmatic, I am sure your beauty will haunt my dreams," Jon said with a smile.
She gives a little snort and a chuckle. "I can make you a potion to stop that if you'd like." The neck of the second rabbit slit and again the blood drained into the bowl.
"No, it is probably one of the more pleasant dreams I'm likely to have, but thank you!" Jon answered. "May I see the locket?"
She looks down her chest at the locket around her neck, to her bloody hands, then up at him. "Would you mind? I'm a bit of a mess and blood is such a troublesome substance to get out of clothes." She moves around the table to stand before him, inclining her head so he could either undo the clasp or pull the necklace over her head.
Jon stood over and put his arms around her neck, deftly undoing the clasp as if he was well-experienced in the removal of jewelry from other people's bodies. "Thank you. I will return it each day to you, for safekeeping," he promised, returning to his desk. Opened his sketchbook. "The first step is for me to practice making copies... if it is not too personal or painful, could you tell me stories about... Fawn, wasn't it?"
"Yes. Fawn." She moves back to the table to continue prepping the rabbit. "She was an unexpected blessing. Her father and I had been trying for years to conceive. We had all but given up. Then...there she was. My perfect little Fawn. I named her that because her hair was the same color as a newborn fawn, just without the white spots. Oh, but she was a perfect baby. She didn't cry very much and it seemed that even at a few days old she would smile." Skin ripped off the rabbit and this one lost his head too. "We were the perfect little family. My husband, Hanson, worked as a smithy. I was the village harvest witch, making sure that the crops came in like they should. I did my work with Fawn on my back. Her laughter delighted me as I worked to make sure soil was perfect and plants were healthy. " She picks up a towel and idly wipes her hands on it. "We were happy. Fawn was growing into a beautiful little lady. Her eyes rivaled emeralds and had a similar sparkle. She was smart, too smart for such a little girl. She was both book-smart and full of common sense."
She busied herself with chopping the rabbits into chunks. "Yes, we were happy. Then the feral Worgen came. Roving bands of them flooding the countryside." He could hear her sigh. "I wasn't home when they passed through our little hamlet. I was helping in a nearby town with child birth. It was a rough one. The baby was breech and his mother's pelvis was so narrow. So very narrow. The birth was a success though." The chopping pauses and Zinn runs her fingers over the pink meat of the rabbit. "When I came home....I...I found them. Hanson had been gutted, his entrails littered the entrance to our home. Like..he'd been used to decorate the walls. I couldn't help him." She swallowed hard. "I rushed inside and..." The rabbit flesh was being squeezed tightly in her hand, pink bubbles squeezed between her fingers. "I found him crouched over my Fawn. My beautiful little Fawn. He was...eating her. Her little face was covered in blood, her hair matted with it. Cold emerald eyes stared at...nothing. She was gone. The light of my life was gone." She hung her head, tears streaming down her cheeks and she tried to compose herself. "I don't know how the ax got in my hands. My swings were wild and I caught the beast off guard. I chopped and chopped and chopped, my body covered in the blood of the most hated thing in the world to me at that moment."
Jon remained quiet although unbidden tears made his eyes sparkle wetly. He remembered all too well when the feral Worgen of Arugal had destroyed Pyrewood, leaving a young Jon Chess an orphan at about the same age was when Zinn had lost her daughter. He remained silent; this was Zinn's moment to remember her beloved daughter, and he would not dilute that moment with his own memories. He sketched Fawn's likeness again and again, finally after some hours, he presented the sketchbook to Zinn.
"Madame, tell me if I am ready to proceed to canvas," he said, his voice soft. The evolution of the images in the sketchbook could be seen; a softening of her jaw to reflect her happy nature, a sharpening of her gaze to enhance the intelligent child her mother had described. As he had progressed, Jon had added a background of the Blackwald as it must have been in those happier days.
Zinn had since cleaned everything up around the room while Jon had worked on the sketches. Rabbit stew was slow bubbling in the hearth and bread was baking in her tiny makeshift oven. She flipped through the several sketches until she found one that was, for lack of a better word, perfect. "This one. You've captured her eyes...her smirk of a smile perfectly. It's like..you've pressed her face to the page and created an exact replica." She ran her finger over the sketch's jawline, a soft sad sigh pushed through her nose.
Jon nodded. "I will start the replication tomorrow when I return. Please... keep the sketchbook overnight." Jon handed her the locket. "And you can wear this again; I won't need it again until later." Jon started the minimal amount of cleanup and went outside to teleport himself to Dalaran.
After Jon left, Zinn ate her simple dinner of thick rabbit stew and freshly baked bread in the silence she was used to. After dinner and quick cleanup, she took the sketchbook outside. Silently, she walked toward the tiny graveyard near her cottage. Passing through the rusty iron gate, she made her way to the two well-tended graves near a tree. She smiled and sat between the two headstones. "Look, Hanson, he's managed to draw her perfectly. Don't you think?" She holds the sketchbook out to the headstone on her left. Fingers run softly along the stone's back. In the worn grooves. Turning to the stone on her right, she leans and presses a kiss to the cold granite. "Soon I'll be able to look upon your face again Fawn. I miss you so much my darling. So very much." Zinn sits quietly between the stones for hours, flipping through the sketchbook. Reaching into her skirt pocket, she pulls out a little vial full of a swirling purple liquid. She drinks it all and makes herself comfortable on the ground. "Goodnight my loves. I'll see you in my dreams."
The sound of Shadow Raven wings presaged the return of the fellow most knew as Jon Chess to the cottage in the Blackwald Forest in the more-or-less deserted kingdom of Gilneas. The beast landed just outside the small flagstone courtyard and sat patiently while Chess unstrapped the cargo from the pack saddle he had made the creature wear. Stacking the boxes neatly off to the side of the entrance, Jon melded into the Shadows to await his client, the mysterious woman named Zinnaella, called Zinn.
From the path, Jon would see the form of a great cat slowly making its way toward the cottage. It appeared to have something in its mouth. The fur of the beast appeared to have been replaced with feathers..a very ravenlike looking beast. Clearly, the beast hadn't seen shadow raven or man, perhaps it was lost in its own bestial thoughts.
When it made it to the small gate of the cottage, the prize in its mouth was dropped to the ground. Two dead rabbits. Curiously, the figure shimmered and shifted and moments later, the naked form of Zinn stood at the gate. She still hadn't noticed anything amiss in the courtyard. Bending, she grabbed the rabbits by their ears and made her way toward the cottage. The woman, though in her 40s, still held on to the svelte figure of her youth and moved with cat-like grace. The cream-colored skin was adorned with tattoos; whorls of a burnt umber color decorated her thighs and up her hips, across her belly and up between her breasts. As she made her way past the shadow melded Jon, he would see that her back was also tattooed in the same type of patterns.
Jon held still, waiting for Zinn to pass inside before making his presence known, not wanting to startle nor embarrass her. His eyes roved over her naked form with appreciation. "Hard to think of her as naked with that tattoo... the artist must have enjoyed themselves greatly," he thought, a grin forming.
She paused in the doorway, gaze moving to the crates that weren't there before. A tilt of her head and a sniff of the air had a half grin tugging the corner of her mouth. "Please Mister Chess. Do come inside. I'll have breakfast ready in a moment." It was evident that being naked before him made her neither uncomfortable nor embarrassed. She continued her way into the large room, tossed the rabbits onto the table and moved behind the privacy screen that served at her bedroom. She dressed quickly, just a plain skirt and blouse before she moved to the table to skin the rabbits.
Jon flushed red at having been caught out, and entered as bidden, standing on the correct side of the privacy curtain as she dressed. "My apologies, Miss Zinn; I am in the admittedly-bad habit of waiting in the Shadows. I did not mean to intrude upon your privacy," he apologized. "I have brought my supplies. I intend to make an enhanced copy of the miniature if that suits you. If you are satisfied with the replacement, I can then attempt to refurbish the original - but because of the inherent risk, I want you the to have the duplicate anyway. Where should I set up?"
Zinn points to the cleared out space near her privacy screen, in a semicircular alcove surrounded by windows. "I thought you might like to have the natural light, though, not much ever really shines here." She chuckles as she rolls up her sleeves and picks up a skinning knife, grabbing a rabbit by its ears. "You must be pretty comfortable in the shadows to want to stay there all the time hmm? And don't worry about intruding on my privacy. I'm not ashamed of being nude. The naked body is what it is. Everyone has one, be they Human, Elf or Orc. It's nothing to be ashamed of." Quickly, she slits the throat of the rabbit, holding it over a bowl to catch the blood.
Jon chuckled. "I spend so much time hidden in the Shadows, I often forget; it was a lifesaving habit during the final battles against the legion, and a good idea in Zandalar as well." Jon started to move his equipment, which included a bright lamp, into the cottage. A small work desk and folding chair came first, then a magnifying lens, which was bolted to the worktable. Paints, brushes, a mixing palette, and jars of pigments were unpacked, granite mortar and pestle joining them. "Well, your body is certainly nothing to be ashamed of, to be sure. I found the artistry of your decorations to be quite well-done," he said.
"I can see where that would be a useful trait." She looks at him with a smile. "Thank you for the compliment. My whorls were given with every...well...I'm not sure that spell is the correct word for it. I am a type of of...kitchen witch. Nothing like the coven witches in Drustvar mind you. My work is strictly for helping and healing." The skinning blade was drawn through the soft belly of the rabbit, followed by her hand. The wet sound of organs and viscera being pulled from the cavity echo through the room, the contents of the rabbit set onto a plate. She watches him set up his station as she pulls the skin from the rabbit then quickly lopping off its head.
"Well, whether aesthetic or pragmatic, I am sure your beauty will haunt my dreams," Jon said with a smile.
She gives a little snort and a chuckle. "I can make you a potion to stop that if you'd like." The neck of the second rabbit slit and again the blood drained into the bowl.
"No, it is probably one of the more pleasant dreams I'm likely to have, but thank you!" Jon answered. "May I see the locket?"
She looks down her chest at the locket around her neck, to her bloody hands, then up at him. "Would you mind? I'm a bit of a mess and blood is such a troublesome substance to get out of clothes." She moves around the table to stand before him, inclining her head so he could either undo the clasp or pull the necklace over her head.
Jon stood over and put his arms around her neck, deftly undoing the clasp as if he was well-experienced in the removal of jewelry from other people's bodies. "Thank you. I will return it each day to you, for safekeeping," he promised, returning to his desk. Opened his sketchbook. "The first step is for me to practice making copies... if it is not too personal or painful, could you tell me stories about... Fawn, wasn't it?"
"Yes. Fawn." She moves back to the table to continue prepping the rabbit. "She was an unexpected blessing. Her father and I had been trying for years to conceive. We had all but given up. Then...there she was. My perfect little Fawn. I named her that because her hair was the same color as a newborn fawn, just without the white spots. Oh, but she was a perfect baby. She didn't cry very much and it seemed that even at a few days old she would smile." Skin ripped off the rabbit and this one lost his head too. "We were the perfect little family. My husband, Hanson, worked as a smithy. I was the village harvest witch, making sure that the crops came in like they should. I did my work with Fawn on my back. Her laughter delighted me as I worked to make sure soil was perfect and plants were healthy. " She picks up a towel and idly wipes her hands on it. "We were happy. Fawn was growing into a beautiful little lady. Her eyes rivaled emeralds and had a similar sparkle. She was smart, too smart for such a little girl. She was both book-smart and full of common sense."
She busied herself with chopping the rabbits into chunks. "Yes, we were happy. Then the feral Worgen came. Roving bands of them flooding the countryside." He could hear her sigh. "I wasn't home when they passed through our little hamlet. I was helping in a nearby town with child birth. It was a rough one. The baby was breech and his mother's pelvis was so narrow. So very narrow. The birth was a success though." The chopping pauses and Zinn runs her fingers over the pink meat of the rabbit. "When I came home....I...I found them. Hanson had been gutted, his entrails littered the entrance to our home. Like..he'd been used to decorate the walls. I couldn't help him." She swallowed hard. "I rushed inside and..." The rabbit flesh was being squeezed tightly in her hand, pink bubbles squeezed between her fingers. "I found him crouched over my Fawn. My beautiful little Fawn. He was...eating her. Her little face was covered in blood, her hair matted with it. Cold emerald eyes stared at...nothing. She was gone. The light of my life was gone." She hung her head, tears streaming down her cheeks and she tried to compose herself. "I don't know how the ax got in my hands. My swings were wild and I caught the beast off guard. I chopped and chopped and chopped, my body covered in the blood of the most hated thing in the world to me at that moment."
Jon remained quiet although unbidden tears made his eyes sparkle wetly. He remembered all too well when the feral Worgen of Arugal had destroyed Pyrewood, leaving a young Jon Chess an orphan at about the same age was when Zinn had lost her daughter. He remained silent; this was Zinn's moment to remember her beloved daughter, and he would not dilute that moment with his own memories. He sketched Fawn's likeness again and again, finally after some hours, he presented the sketchbook to Zinn.
"Madame, tell me if I am ready to proceed to canvas," he said, his voice soft. The evolution of the images in the sketchbook could be seen; a softening of her jaw to reflect her happy nature, a sharpening of her gaze to enhance the intelligent child her mother had described. As he had progressed, Jon had added a background of the Blackwald as it must have been in those happier days.
Zinn had since cleaned everything up around the room while Jon had worked on the sketches. Rabbit stew was slow bubbling in the hearth and bread was baking in her tiny makeshift oven. She flipped through the several sketches until she found one that was, for lack of a better word, perfect. "This one. You've captured her eyes...her smirk of a smile perfectly. It's like..you've pressed her face to the page and created an exact replica." She ran her finger over the sketch's jawline, a soft sad sigh pushed through her nose.
Jon nodded. "I will start the replication tomorrow when I return. Please... keep the sketchbook overnight." Jon handed her the locket. "And you can wear this again; I won't need it again until later." Jon started the minimal amount of cleanup and went outside to teleport himself to Dalaran.
After Jon left, Zinn ate her simple dinner of thick rabbit stew and freshly baked bread in the silence she was used to. After dinner and quick cleanup, she took the sketchbook outside. Silently, she walked toward the tiny graveyard near her cottage. Passing through the rusty iron gate, she made her way to the two well-tended graves near a tree. She smiled and sat between the two headstones. "Look, Hanson, he's managed to draw her perfectly. Don't you think?" She holds the sketchbook out to the headstone on her left. Fingers run softly along the stone's back. In the worn grooves. Turning to the stone on her right, she leans and presses a kiss to the cold granite. "Soon I'll be able to look upon your face again Fawn. I miss you so much my darling. So very much." Zinn sits quietly between the stones for hours, flipping through the sketchbook. Reaching into her skirt pocket, she pulls out a little vial full of a swirling purple liquid. She drinks it all and makes herself comfortable on the ground. "Goodnight my loves. I'll see you in my dreams."
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