Title: Theory in Action
Description: Sylvanas tests a new technique out on the field.
Notes1: Inspired by the introduction of Sylvanas's new heroic in the Dehaka patch. Originally Xul was going to be mentioned for doing Possession better than she could (and, jokes about the old heroic aside, I rarely used it during matches where I'd build for split pushing and nine out of ten times the plan goes awry), but events from the Valentine's Day chapters won out in the end.

"Target acquired," said Nova. Even though she was cloaked and hiding in the bushes, her voice came out in a tinny filter through the speakers on the handheld in Sylvanas's bag. The rifle's barrel was aimed at the Crown Prince's approaching figure, who had noticed the Banshee Queen standing out in the open, a little ways from the sleeping temple. "Just say the word and I'll give him something to dance the tango to. I call it the Orbital Special."

There was a noticeable limp in his gait, and blood leaked from a number of wounds on his face. Still, his grip on Frostmourne was strong, sure, and surely tighter at the sight of a not-so fresh soul, but the state of freshness didn't matter for a blade made for demigods. Sylvanas shook her head. "No need. I want only for you to stay back and watch."

"What'd you have in mind?"

Sylvanas suppressed the smile. "Just watch," she said again, and replaced the bow on its sling. She took a couple steps forward and stopped, and so did Arthas.

Arthas brightened, grinning boyishly. "Good morning, Banshee Queen! Pleasant weather we're having, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes," Sylvanas drawled. "It's always sunny in Luxoria." Nine out of ten times the sun ever present, like a lidless eye that never closed. Rain clouds may as well not exist in this realm. "I can see you're in a chipper mood."

Arthas shrugged. "Indeed! But I can't say the same for Frostmourne. It's been feeling restless for the past few days. I think it's hungry. Again." He sighed wearily. "Well, it's only a trifling matter. I'm sure there's somebody around here who can help me."

"I'm not interested."

"I know you're not. Such a shame, too; you seem like the sort who would know anyone and everyone. Anyway, I've been doing some people watching during my downtime. They seem to have a penchant for swimming in the aqueducts when they're not husking their wares or trying to avoid getting stomped on, incinerated, vaporized, electrocuted, julienned, and riddled full of bullet holes in the midst of all the fighting. I think they should be more careful; I've noticed lately that they seem to drown when the currents are strongest."

And they would, Sylvanas thought, when the temples were activated and Ka wanted the Heroes to piss off and take their 'petty war games' elsewhere.

"They really ought to be careful. It's not a goodly way to go. I wouldn't want to go out that way, if I have any say in the matter!"

"Good for you. Can we get back to killing each other senselessly?" Somewhere in the background, Sonya yodeled, and then the earth beneath their feet shook. She thought she heard a squawk of surprise and agony, but whether it came from Falstad or Sharpbeak she couldn't quite tell nor could she really bring herself to care. Either way, one of them was going to be made into chicken wings.

Arthas arched an eyebrow. "Senseless? There's nothing senseless about killing, at least where Frostmourne's concerned. A soul's a soul—big or small, young or old, it must be satiated! You know that!"

"Then get on with it already. You're wasting my time." She spread her arms wide before her. "So…what are you waiting for? I'm right here. Come at me." She dared not tack on that tastelessly stupid 'bro' at the end.

Arthas scanned her up and down, grimaced, and sniffed disdainfully. "You're already dead. Why even bother?"

"Oh, so I guess you don't want to get your sorry ass beat by a dead person." Sylvanas nodded knowingly. "That's fine. That's fine. You're not much of a Prince—nay, a King—if you can't kill a dead person. And believe me, when you do kill a dead person, they empower Frostmourne even more. Twice as much as a living soul, I'll set my watch and warrant on it." Or however the noblesse or snobbish bookworm says it in their dialect. "But I can understand if you are, you know, too afraid to test that theory—"

"This is me being afraid, bitch!" Arthas yelled, voice cracking on a high note. His grip tight on Frostmourne, he made to raise it.

Perfect timing.

The color in her eyes pulsed once at the same time she raised both hands in front of her, not to ward off the attack. Instead, they were held as though she was holding an invisible sword of her own.

Arthas froze in midstep, and the color of his bombardier blue orbs rippled and shifted into the same shade of red as hers. Frostmourne trembled in his gauntlet as her dark tendrils descended upon him and took root in his membrane, and once she assembled control his nerves settled; he placed his foot on the ground and widened his stance at shoulder width, and his back straightened. Sweat peppered his forehead and dripped down his neck into the depths of armor battered and torn from fighting.

Especially the midriff; the belt, which was large and bore the face of the Lordaeronian lion, was missing, leaving him only in the chainmail pants that would have otherwise been covered. His breastplate, however, still remained intact.

It would have to do, and she would have to move. Fast, while the compulsion was upon him.

So she had Arthas follow her movements, exactly as she made them. They reversed the grip on their blades, lifted it before them and above their heads with the points pointed toward at their bellies. Once again, Frostmourne shook, much harder now, a sign that the spell was rapidly decaying. Arthas's changed from red to blue and back again, but the anxious, dawning horror on his face became paler and claylike in its clarity. The way his skin shined so bright made him appear more mannequin than human. She had a split second to savor the moment and place it in a pretty frame.

Then Arthas drove Frostmourne home and sliced left to right. Blood and guts spilled and splattered onto the ground. He brought the point up to where his heart was and, with eyes rolling behind their sockets, fell upon it as gravity claimed him. The sword howled in ecstasy.

Sylvanas relinquished her hold as soon as his body hit the ground. She shook her head to clear the fog in both her mind and her vision. When she was able to reassert herself, she walked up to the Crown Prince, arms akimbo. "'Already dead', huh? Joke's on you." She kicked him in the ribs for good measure; it wasn't necessary, but this was Arthas—hitting him, alive or dead, always made her feel better.

She sensed Nova coming up from behind her, deactivating the cloak to make her presence known. Her rifle was lowered—a rookie mistake to be making in the middle of the battlefield, Sylvanas noted, but she didn't correct her. "Holy crap!" she exclaimed. She leaned over her shoulder for a closer look, then leaned back and looked at Sylvanas. "What was that?"

"Mind control," said the Banshee Queen, turning away from the disintegrating corpse. "However, this is the first time I've used it on a person. The majority of my practice has been spent on the local wildlife, given that their brains are smaller and thus can be more easily overridden than that of a man's. I suppose the same might be said for non-humanoid creatures, like angels and demons, or the protoss and Zerg; I don't know, I've yet to try it."

"That seemed pretty taxing on you, and this version's not even a death knight." As if to prove he was truly dead, Nova poked Arthas's remains—his head— with the tip of the rifle's barrel. It came apart in a pile of ash and was swept away on a breeze, into Luxoria's blue beyond.

"I will perfect it over time. It will also depend on how much stronger a person's will is when the spell is cast. There won't be time enough for me to move any further from my position, so I will have to be wise as to where and when I will begin casting. You needn't let me explain twice what your job—our team's job—is to be while that is done."

Nova smiled wide and laughed. "Now when have I ever failed to protect you?"

Sylvanas stared at her through lowered lashes, but the ominous glow from her eyes was prevalent. "…Do you really need me to expound the details on that?"

The laughter died and the grin wilted. Nova hugged the rifle to her bosom. "Aha…ha…eh. P-Point taken. Yeah…Yeah, I know what to do. Count on it."

"I would expect no less. And remember, you focus on the environment around me, not…" Sylvanas sighed. "You know, right on me. Or the other Sylvanas, for that matter. She—I mean, uh, we—we're sensitive."

"Sensitive?" Nova parroted, and then: "I'm not sure what you're trying to convey, but it's not like that. Really!"

"Oh bologna, you know what it is I'm talking about! You're a living Ghost. Don't become an actual one because your focus is on something other than your target. You didn't get that far in the Program because of that, and, if I had my way, you wouldn't get very far with that kind of thinking under my command." She jabbed the point of her index finger against the bulbous tip of Nova's nose, causing her to go cross-eyed.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Just pay attention and maybe you won't die nearly half as much as you think you do. Don't start giving me ideas." Sylvanas retrieved the bow from its sling, knocked an arrow to the string, and took a running leap over the open gap onto the neutral watch tower. The light panels beneath her feet, which consisted of three runic blades forming the symbol of the Nexus, flashed blue, signaling the team's claimant. Then Sylvanas cleared the other side and vanished into the bushes ringing the central Snake temple.

"B-But that's the best part!" Nova called after her. "Wait for me!" She activated the cloak, fumbled with the rifle and snatched it out of the air before it hit the ground, and went around the watch tower in the same direction, not trusting herself to take the shortcut without pointlessly dying. It wouldn't be the same, after all, if most of her deaths didn't at least involve the Banshee Queen to some degree.