[Ninorra]

Ninorra stayed upright as well as she could, but Callus' weight was more than she was used to. Using her staff to help walk, she followed his directions, avoiding the eyes of those surrounding them. There was something eerie in the way they stared, and something terribly sinister in the way they had been tormented. By all rights, they should have been dead. Perhaps they were. It was not the first time she would have seen ghosts that appeared solid, but why torment the dead?

"Callus.." She said to him, quietly, trying to stare ahead. "Where are we going? We can't leave, can we? We have to see this Queen.."

Ninorra swallowed down her suspicions.

"..and you need to tell me what you are. What you really are. Because I have my ideas, but my ideas sound crazy, and I would rather not be crazy."

[Vicailde]

Callus paused in the alleyway, leaning his shoulder against the wall. He glanced sideways at Ninorra. He licked his lips slowly, unsure of what to say, what to do. His gaze dropped and his hand gently grasped one of the wings. The confused look spread across his face once more as he inspected the feathery appendages.

“I am the prince of this madness.”

He released the wing and gestured towards the ruins. He sighed looking behind him. A few of the denizens were following them. Their hollow looks unwavering. Their grime covered faces twisting as if attempting to comprehend a long forgotten thought. Callus raised a hand behind him and awkwardly drew his long rune engraved sword, the two-handed weapon wielded easily in his current form but the unfamiliar wings made it difficult to not slice them as he drew the blade. He glanced at her before continuing his slow pace.

“I will take you to the Queen, she may know where your husband is. However, this world is her product. Do you think such a being will be courteous or helpful?”

[Ninorra]

Ninorra followed close behind, every so often glancing back to see if they were being followed. She kept her staff off the ground, attempting to remain as quiet as possible.

"Before I answer that," she said under her breath, studying him from behind. Even his injured limp reminded her of Vicailde. "I need you to explain something. Don't think I haven't noticed the resemblance. I may not be the smartest, but I'm not stupid. If you are the Prince, what does that make the Queen to you?"

She took a few long strides and caught up to him, gently grabbing Callus by the wrist.

"Tell me the truth. Is she your mother?"

[Vicailde]

Callus avoided her gaze for a moment before their eyes slowly met. He jaw tightened. Training, Research, Exploration. He had spent ages with one goal. It was not the noble one he had told Ninorra of stopping this world. It was selfish, he wanted her back. The way he remembered her. If she knew what she was capable of. Would it prepare her or destroy her?

“Yes… she is my Mother.. but I don’t see how that matters.” His eyes drifted to their stalkers they kept their distance. Their eyes locked on the pair. They aimlessly scratched at infected wounds, feeling for their missing limbs, and one Sin’Dorei began to pat at her body as if coming out of an ancient daze and unfamiliar with the body she inhabited.

[Ninorra]

Ninorra glanced back at their followers, shooing at them with her staff.

"Go on! Get away!" She shouted, releasing a few sparks from her staff to frighten them.

Before seeing if they reacted, she pressed on forward, hurrying her pace behind Callus until she overtook him and walked by his side.

"It matters," she said hesitantly, attempting to press him on quicker. This world was more than a little disturbing, and her discomfort was obvious. "It matters because.. you look so much like him. Like Vicailde. You look, you sound, you even move like him. So how can that be? Am I blind? Or is there more to you and your connection with my family than you're letting on?"

Swallowing down her fear, she looked at him pointedly.

"Tell me who you are. Who you really are."

[Vicailde]

Callus slowed to a stop and turned towards her. He took a slow breath. He licked lips and opened his mouth. His eyes welled and his mouth closed. His face covered in shame. “I… I am…” His voice quivered and he turned his head to the side. He cleared his throat quietly before looking at her sideways. “To you… I am a possibility… I’m sorry..” He hung his head falling quiet for a moment.

“My name is Damian Bloodstone the Sixth… son of Ninorra Gitana-Bloodstone..” He looked up slowly, tears in his eyes. “..Queen of a Mad World.”

They had neared the exit to the long alleyway they had been traveling. Their path barred by more of the decrepit denizens. They stared awestruck, mouths slacked. Their eyes blank of all emotion. The denizens behind them had backed away from Ninorra’s spell but were slowly inching closer. Just ahead of them the alley branched off to the right. Quietly, at first, the sound of a woman sobbing echoed from the branch. The sound caused the denizens to halt in their advance, a few taking a few steps back.

[Ninorra]

Ninorra's heart leaped into her throat. How could she not see it, before? The face, the voice, but so much more pain than she ever imagined her child having. Somewhere, back home, he was safe and cared for. Loved by friends and the echo of herself she'd left behind. He would never want for her, never miss her, so what could have possibly happened that he should become this creature?

It took a while for the rest of his explanation to reach her.

"..Queen?" She repeated, horrified.

The world around them smelled of sulfur and blood. Thousands of creatures of all different races, suffering, staring. They seemed afraid of something, a sound up ahead. The sound of someone crying.

"Damian," she whispered, throwing her arms around him from his side, avoiding the wings and ignoring the world around them. The creatures and whatever demanded their fear could wait.

"What happened?" She asked quietly, holding him as if he were the same boy she'd left behind. "How could I have let you become this? This can't be our future, it doesn't make any sense. I would never let you hurt this way."

[Vicailde]

Damian's sword fell to the ground and he did what he had wanted since he saw her on Draenor. He hugged her and wept.. His wings instinctively wrapped around them, muffling the never ending sound of the hell around them. For a moment he simply held her, a child once again in loving arms. Pleasant glimpses of memory floating through his mind. He sniffed quietly, attempting to calm himself before speaking.

“I…don’t remember very well. You came home, different. You told me father was gone and that someday I would see him again… You put on your best smile for me but, I knew.. Then you went off to war, again. You came back often.. but you spent longer and longer away… and when you were home you spent most of your time in the basement. Every time you returned you were different, your temper shorter… we grew distant in my rebellious youth… something I regret.”

The sound of callused flesh scraping against hard pavement whispered through their feathery cage. The footsteps cautious but slowly moving towards the huddled pair.

[Ninorra]

"That's..." She struggled to find the words. "That can't be.. it can't.. I would never, Damian, never ever take out my sadness on you.."

But the fact was that she could picture herself obsessing. Already she had done things she never would have imagined herself doing; created a copy of herself, traveled through time, put her fate into the hands of a stranger. The idea that she might neglect her son, however, was unforgivable. She thought back on all the time spent away from him, even now, and the copy she made. They would never be the same as his own mother.

"Your father missing, it must have driven me crazy, but.. but I won't let it happen. I promise.."

[Vicailde]

Damian swallowed and slowly backed from the embrace. His warped features a bit softer, tear stained and flushed. His hands moved to her shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“You.. shouldn't promise me anything. You are not my mother… the Queen of this world is…” He gave a quiet sniff and wiped his eyes before showing a sad smile. “Promise your son..”

They were close now. The sound of their ragged breathing, shuffling of bodies pressed against the walls. Damian's hands slipped from her shoulders and the wings retracted, revealing both sides stacked, shoulder-to-shoulder, with bodies their eyes hungry. He knelt and retrieved his sword, the runes glowing a brilliant white.

"...besides... a boy needs his father, too... and you deserve a happy life with your husband..." He gave her another sad smile, lifting the sword into the air. The motion caused the denizens to back up but the crowd behind them only allowed so much room, the bodies squashed together. A few in the middle cried out hoarsely in pain. "...just don't spoil your son too much... nobody likes a brat."