Note: This is my first work, so any constructive criticism is appreciated :) The main character is oc, but the story is based in what I'm going to try to keep a lore-friendly Azeroth. Thanks to Blizzard for creating such a cool world for all of us to play around and write in! Rating T for now unless something comes up that would kick it out of that zone. Does involve death/loss, some fight scenes, and will likely have romance down the road. Hope you enjoy!
Prologue/Intro
Hands on either side of a gravestone, the Sin'dorei woman's fingertips sought out dirt.
Surely there had to be ground down there, somewhere.
She kept digging at the snow.
An atrocity of a dog sat a few paces to the side. Thick fur sprouting up in tangled patches pointed towards wolves or something similar as ancestry. The coat was the only such clue however. Aside from it, he looked more demon than dog. Missing gums gave a permanent snarl, and calluses where fur was patchy crowned his skull.
The creature watched his mistress through eyes dried and reddened by windchill. Contrary to his fiendish appearance, he gave a concerned and appealing whine.
"None of that Ozzie. C'mere, over closer to the stone if you'd like. Just a few moments longer," the elf murmured in a soothingly steady voice.
Just a few moments longer. She had to find earth.
Her words had been halfway caught up by a cutting gust of wind, but attentive canine hearing picked them up clearly enough. Ozzie stood and shook off the layer of snow that had settled over him even in the few minutes they'd been there, then trudged over to sit beside the headstone. The rock was five or so feet tall, but less than a fourth of that was visible. A name, dates, and some words were engraved near the top. They were less likely to be buried there.
Feet upon feet of snow lay on the ground in the region. While the graveyard wasn't completely neglected, it was only as maintained as anything in the coldest areas of Northrend could be. The last time air had touched soil here was when this latest grave had been made.
Eight months. So few perished in Northrend anymore, and of those an infinitesimal amount labeled the Storm Peaks as their preferred resting place. Most in the world considered the place a frozen wasteland. Not without cause either. Frostbite inducing temperatures and winds swift enough to knock over a dwarf almost constantly graced the the mountainous land.
If her fingers touched dirt, she might be able to picture him clearly. The ground he was buried under would somehow make everything clear. He was here. Feeling where he was would cast away the fog that had started to cloud her memories. It would work.
Her posture was as solid as her voice had been when she'd spoken to the mutt. Shoulders squared, hair tightly braided and not yet disheveled by the wind, she was the picture of lucidness. She wasn't digging frantically. There was no hint outwardly of the increasingly frenetic thoughts she was having. Pale fingers began taking on a bluish tint as they swept down gracefully, even deeper into the snow.
As much as she was seeking out something beneath the snow, the mountains started coming after her in their own way. Ozzie growled lightly to try and gain her attention, pawing at the snow that had begun building up around them. It was now a foot or so deep. Give it another ten minutes, and they'd be as buried as the person she was mourning. The elf didn't even notice her companion, completely engrossed now in the search.
She'd find a piece of him, and not lose it this time. No fog would come, no matter how long he was gone. Time had always been their enemy, and she'd continue to fight it on her own for him now. Something hurt. Hands?
Pulling her arms up with a hiss, she surveyed the damage that she'd just now begun to feel.
Her fingertips were bleeding. Nails caked in jagged ice were peeling in a few places as well, and her fingers were completely blue down to the palms. She thumbed the intricate tattoo that encircled her left ring finger, then slipped a pair of gloves on.
That's it, this isn't healthy. He's not here. Get hold of yourself, Brisanni. Stupid.
Biting her tongue to control the pained groan that tried to swell its way up her throat, she canted her head towards Ozzie. She couldn't whistle at the moment, so this was a signal to call out to their other nearby animal friend. The dog perked up and began hopping around, proud to be given a command and instinctually relieved to be leaving a dangerous area. He bound away, letting a cacophony of barking and howls echo out towards a nearby tundra.
A mammoth's trumpeting sounded out in response.
Make it back to somewhere a little more survivable, then get the Fel off this continent.
End Note: Thanks so much for reading, you're awesome! Not sure what the continuation of this will look like as of yet, I'll update on my profile when I figure it out.