Open Shipping Meme

[hurricane_chris]

OPEN SHIPPING MEME

Leave me a comment with one of the characters on my muselist and a prompt! Freestyle it, or use one of the following memes to help you come up with something.

No smut in this post! That goes here.

Arranged Marriage
Fake Marriage
Intimate Bathing
Love at First Sight
Love Confessions
Marriage Life
Mistletoe
Morning After
Proper Courtship
Rescue Romance
Settled Down Shipping
Slow Dance

Comments

Ike 💝 m i s t l e t o e

[crymoore]

Because I pulled Ike this morning, I'm taking it as a sign to get off my butt and get something rolling with you!!

Winter had finally come and accompanying it was the gaudy decorations of the holiday. The Feast of Winter Veil was widely supported across the world. No matter where one's travels may take them, there was sure to be a glass of sparkling apple cider or a tray full of gingerbread cookies shaped like the trees that filled the forests of Silverpine. Not that the cold ever bothered her anyway. The chill of the winter wind could never get under the skin of a sorceress who dabbled often in frost magic, rather it was the memories that were associated with the holiday itself that brought her spirits down. While others danced in merriment and camaraderie, Jaina found herself an unoccupied stool in one of the corners of the local tavern to occupy.

With one leg crossed over the other, she balances a book on her knee and takes to reading it in the warm light that filled the room. Every now and again, after she's turned a few pages, a cookie will appear between her fingertips. It isn't the strangest thing to see a mage do―after all, there are tall tales of a single mage feeding an entire army's worth on a daily basis in this world. A single mage conjuring a cookie mid-read is a basic skill.

Over time, the inhabitants of the tavern begin to thin out as the night drags on and the festivities come to a dull point. In a few more hours, when those who have slept wake in the morning, they will start back up. It's like clockwork at this point, which puts a damper on Jaina's brooding as time goes on. She's almost afraid of what it would be like if she actually moved forward in time and didn't reflect on the what-if's of the past. Time heals all wounds they say, yet she was quite stubborn in ensuring this one never quite healed right. It wouldn't fester and destroy her bit by bit, though it would remain in her heart as fresh as can be. The downside of having a sharp wit and intellect was how easy it was to convince yourself to remain hurt.

As stubborn as she was to not enjoy this holiday, there was a force much more stubborn than herself. Above her head is the twisted holly of the season, magically enhanced by a jovial mage who thought this would be a great prank to pull on the Grand Magus of the Kirin Tor. She's not wholly aware of it yet, as she remains seated, drawn into her book. She's so caught up in the text that it would be all too easy for a fellow companion or new face to walk up to her. Force her hand into some light conversation. It's too cold of a night for ladies to sit off alone.

[blue_flames]

[All the more reason why We Like Ike.]

When Ike had first arrived in Azeroth, summer was just beginning to give way to fall. Now, winter had come, and here he was, still taking in what sights he could find. Already he's spent more time in this realm than in the others he's reached through the Outrealm Gate, and he wasn't ready to leave. Part of it just had to do with some of the restlessness he felt -- as well as the Forsaken he'd found himself fighting off when his travels brought him through what used to be Lordaeron. This world was not even a third as peaceful as the other realms he'd visited. A sense of obligation, of helping those who couldn't help themselves, had contributed to his lengthy stay.

And so Ike had eventually found his way to Dalaran, and found himself mystified by the scenery. The mages he knew from back home would probably consider the city paradise. Ike, on the other hand, never had a mind for magic, so to him it was primarily a curiosity. But it seemed as good a place as any to seek refuge from the biting cold, and he'd been able to make himself comfortable, quite possibly until the coming of spring.

One evening, amid the festivities of the season, Ike made his way to a certain tavern. He may not drink, but he had quite the appetite for tavern food. It was a bit late at the time, and he'd found dinner wasn't enough food for him to last until dawn. As he entered, he took notice of the decorations, though to him they carried no meaning. He wasn't familiar with the Feast of Winter Veil, after all.

Ike noticed fairly quickly that there were only a handful of patrons left. All of them were men like him, save one -- a woman, clearly a mage by looking at her clothes, sitting in a corner stool. That got him double-checking the clientele -- none of them seem to have harassed her at all, but you never know when that could change. And at the very least, there was one person in here he could trust to not try anything with the lady -- himself.

So, Ike walked up to the stool next to hers and took a seat upon it. He gave her a nod acknowledging her -- if she saw it over her book -- and then got the barkeep's attention.

"Excuse me. May I order two club sandwiches and a glass of water? Thanks."

The bartender took his order and walked back into the kitchen. With nothing else to do, Ike turned to the woman next to him. Now that he got a closer look at her, he could see that she was quite beautiful, though he could also see perhaps just a hint of melancholy etched into her brow.

"Pardon me. I hope I'm not intruding by taking this seat."

[crymoore]

He might not have noticed it himself, but Jaina had picked up on the hushed whispering as well as the gentle clinking of glasses. It had been a fairly boisterous tavern when he first entered, but now it was as if the personality of it had shifted. There were a number of taverns in Dalaran, but most adventurers like himself tend to stick to the lower depths of Dalaran, the sewers. One might think with a name like 'the sewers' that the food below would taste questionable, but it was better suited for those who prefer their meats to be a darkened crisp verses the delicate sensibilities of most of the mages.

Ike definitely stood out. The chattering had been mostly mages discussing aetheric components in their spells and the sort, though now their attention was captivated on the questionable scene. Most knew better than to approach Jaina Proudmoore during this holiday. The human mages that were old enough to remember ballroom scenes of Lordaeron and of their once prince dancing with a golden haired woman in his arms knew she silently suffered and the ones that were too young to know just revered her as the leader of the Kirin Tor.

Her hair since then has lost most of its color, though she still looked young in the face.

Hearing the settled silence and the greeting from an unfamiliar voice, she lifted her head up from the book (which had been boring her―it was a text she had read several times before) to smile at him. While her demeanor took on an icy chill at times, she was for the most part a warm and jovial mage. Unlike most of her peers, who took to keeping to themselves and their ilk.

"No, not at all." Closing the book, it seems that was all it took for the chatter to start back up again. Nothing to see here, so naturally the mages took to conversing about things that were of interest.

"Though my peers must have thought of you as an intruder initially." She commented loud enough to be heard. No one really was going to deny the indisputable truth at that point: they had thought that, in a sense.

[blue_flames]

There were many things that Ike was known for, but having a selective palate was definitely not one of them -- quite the opposite, in fact. If it was a meat dish, Ike enjoyed it. No exceptions. He also had little taste for dessert, but that honestly made life easier.

He did notice, though, that there was a specific clientele. He didn't mind, though; not after years of hanging out with Soren and reading what he could. There was a reason why he was as good at reading the flow of a battle as he was.

Up until this point, Ike had been covered in his traveling cloak with the hood down. It obscured what he was wearing, but no article of clothing could have obscured his height. And once seated, he pulled the cloak back so that it hung behind his back, out of the way. With his body exposed, it left two indications that he was more than just an ordinary traveler.

The first was the armor he wore. It was rather light, but it was also quite handsome. The armor covering his left arm in particular had some ornate patterns on it. It was polished to a dull sheen -- it was clearly worn, but taken care of well and clearly he appreciated having it. The second was the sword sheathed at his waist. Its blade was obscured by the scabbard holding it, but the beautiful, dark hilt was plain to see, as was the large emerald embedded in the center.

"I got the same feeling. I look a bit out of place here, huh?" Ike offered a wry smile. "I probably would go for something a little...heartier if I wanted a full-course meal. But as it is, I just need a snack."

Apparently to him, two club sandwiches is a snack.

"So I take it you're also a mage. A skilled one, no less." Being able to even discern a mage's skill was one of the advantages to having been such close friends with one for so many years. He's found that mages have different means of carrying or presenting themselves based on their skill and experience. That, plus the fact that she showed no alarm while her kin did, regardless of where her attention was.