As you might have guessed, I am not contacting you about recipes.
[He takes in a deep breath.]
But... I can offer you my assistance, if you will give me yours. I do not presume to be useful to any sort of dragon-- especially one with all sorts of obvious machinations to be had-- but I am desperate to solve a certain problem.
[He doesn't continue speaking immediately, giving the impression that he's thinking over what a blood elf could possibly want from him--and what price this blood elf would have to pay.]
Hmm, mm. Well, we are both of Azeroth, are we not? We should stick together. Tell me what you need, friend.
[Oh, Wrathion. Belthazar is patient, though a bit anxious even so. Stop wasting my time. He keeps those thoughts inward, though. He's slightly annoyed at being called friend but this is just how those types are, so he puts up with it. For now.]
There is no Sunwell here, so any blood elves on the Fleet will eventually run into the problem of mana. To that end I have been trying to create a mana gem that would take in sunlight and convert it to mana, sort of like a plant. But... it's unstable. I've tried everything I know, every rune I've gathered from my extensive research, and I've only succeeded in bigger explosions.
You are a creature of magic, or so I have been told. I thought your expertise might be useful on the matter.
It's not a bad idea, actually. I imagine you're getting the explosions because of the conversion process. You need to modify your object so that it can tolerate such volatility. Most gems aren't suitable for that.
[He lifts a finger.]
Not without some fortifications, of course. Which I can gladly provide!
[He starts to fidget, then stops himself. Gotta be brave.] I should hope not. He died very terribly, or so I heard. [There's a dripping... thing... in Orgrimmar.
Okay. Okay. He gathers his courage, then finally, finally looks at Wrathion again. His lips form a line, and he is very determined to see this through.]
[Belth makes good time. He has a little basket of freshly-conjured pastries, the fancy kind, with chocolate and almond bark. He also has one of his gems but that's still hidden in his robes.
He's shorter than Wrathion, which surprises no one, and he's a much smaller presence than his behavior on the network would hint at him being. He is diffident and yet trying to be brave, his fingers twitching beneath the hems of his sleeves as he looks around for the dragon.
He really ought to trust his magic senses more often.]
But he is desperate, and that means calling to mind all the formalities he's learned as a piece of dirt in Silvermoon. He bows lowly, though he doesn't kneel, and holds out the basket.]
Pastries. It's an exotic recipe I learned on the last world I was trapped on. You seem to have a taste for fine things, so I hope you like them... [Fuck, how does one address a fucking dragon? This wasn't in his books.] ... my lord.
[Oh, Wrathion's into this. A little respect! That's all he's ever wanted. The pastries look good, too. Wrathion plucks one from the basket; makes a show of biting into it, of savoring the buttery, flaky crust and the sweet fillings within. He runs his tongue over his lips; lets his eyes flutter briefly shut.]
[He's probably getting some kind of powerboner over this. Christ. Belth watches him eat the pastry and he feels terribly sick. That... could be him? If Wrathion decided to eat him? Oh god.
Anyway, Belth straightens a bit and pulls out the gem, tries to keep his hands steady. It pulses a soft purple-blue. Various arcane runes circle around it, describing the exact equations in which it would take in sunlight and convert it to mana. The problem is in its stability, which is why he's careful when he hands it over.]
[Wrathion holds the gem in his palm for a few moments, assessing it, considering its elemental parts. Hmm. Yes, he can work with this.
The gem begins to glow in his palm, and its inner facets shift around, changing the way it throws and catches light. Its color becomes richer, more vibrant; its impurities are burned away. Wrathion's eyes burn bright red as he works with the gem, and he grins with sheer delight as the process takes shape.
Once done, he hands it back to Bel. Newly fortified, purified, strengthened--and maybe with a little drop of his own essence, too. Just to keep an eye on things.]
[That's incredible. Belth watches him work with wide eyes, curious and sharp, taking in everything that Wrathion does. He's learned by watching as much as doing, and being able to see and work with arcane threads also means there's a layer of things to see here that isn't readily apparent to just anyone.
Belth takes the gem gently, reverently, and turns it over in his palm.]
It's-- it's perfect. [Of course it's perfect, he has that kind of power.] Thank you, my lord. This will help the blood elves in the fleet extremely.
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personal; video; 4/21
[He takes in a deep breath.]
But... I can offer you my assistance, if you will give me yours. I do not presume to be useful to any sort of dragon-- especially one with all sorts of obvious machinations to be had-- but I am desperate to solve a certain problem.
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[He doesn't continue speaking immediately, giving the impression that he's thinking over what a blood elf could possibly want from him--and what price this blood elf would have to pay.]
Hmm, mm. Well, we are both of Azeroth, are we not? We should stick together. Tell me what you need, friend.
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There is no Sunwell here, so any blood elves on the Fleet will eventually run into the problem of mana. To that end I have been trying to create a mana gem that would take in sunlight and convert it to mana, sort of like a plant. But... it's unstable. I've tried everything I know, every rune I've gathered from my extensive research, and I've only succeeded in bigger explosions.
You are a creature of magic, or so I have been told. I thought your expertise might be useful on the matter.
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It's not a bad idea, actually. I imagine you're getting the explosions because of the conversion process. You need to modify your object so that it can tolerate such volatility. Most gems aren't suitable for that.
[He lifts a finger.]
Not without some fortifications, of course. Which I can gladly provide!
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[He rubs at his temple. Wrathion can help but does he really want to do this?
... He can feel a headache coming on, so yes.]
For a price, I'm sure.
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Belth doesn't notice.]
I am reluctant for what I hope are obvious reasons, but...
[He looks up at the ceiling for a moment.]
I don't even know what I could offer you in return.
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[He leans forward, his smile unwavering.]
Because I'm a black dragon?
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It certainly isn't your clothes!
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[His voice takes on a sober, slightly embittered tone.]
I'm not my father.
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Okay. Okay. He gathers his courage, then finally, finally looks at Wrathion again. His lips form a line, and he is very determined to see this through.]
... What would you ask of me?
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[He tamps down the irritation now rising in the back of his throat. He loved Azeroth, truly, he did--but its people ...]
Let's just say you'd owe me one, hm?
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[Learn something new every day.
Owing a dragon an unpaid debt is pretty terrifying to think about, but... what else can he do, really.]
Fine. [And that would be an acceptable agreement to terms if he didn't squeak on that one syllable. He coughs.] That's fine.
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I can come to your ship, or we can meet in the Waystation. Whichever you'd prefer.
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[One does not simply inconvenience dragons, for you are small and crunchy and taste good with ketchup.]
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Oh, uh, let me gather my things. I'll be over in an hour.
[ONE DOES NOT KEEP DRAGONS WAITING, EITHER.]
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He's shorter than Wrathion, which surprises no one, and he's a much smaller presence than his behavior on the network would hint at him being. He is diffident and yet trying to be brave, his fingers twitching beneath the hems of his sleeves as he looks around for the dragon.
He really ought to trust his magic senses more often.]
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Hellloo. What's that you've brought me? It smells perfectly wonderful.
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But he is desperate, and that means calling to mind all the formalities he's learned as a piece of dirt in Silvermoon. He bows lowly, though he doesn't kneel, and holds out the basket.]
Pastries. It's an exotic recipe I learned on the last world I was trapped on. You seem to have a taste for fine things, so I hope you like them... [Fuck, how does one address a fucking dragon? This wasn't in his books.] ... my lord.
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Ah. A fine gift. And now -- a gift for you.
[He holds out his hand for the mana gem.]
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Anyway, Belth straightens a bit and pulls out the gem, tries to keep his hands steady. It pulses a soft purple-blue. Various arcane runes circle around it, describing the exact equations in which it would take in sunlight and convert it to mana. The problem is in its stability, which is why he's careful when he hands it over.]
Here.
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The gem begins to glow in his palm, and its inner facets shift around, changing the way it throws and catches light. Its color becomes richer, more vibrant; its impurities are burned away. Wrathion's eyes burn bright red as he works with the gem, and he grins with sheer delight as the process takes shape.
Once done, he hands it back to Bel. Newly fortified, purified, strengthened--and maybe with a little drop of his own essence, too. Just to keep an eye on things.]
Enjoy.
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Belth takes the gem gently, reverently, and turns it over in his palm.]
It's-- it's perfect. [Of course it's perfect, he has that kind of power.] Thank you, my lord. This will help the blood elves in the fleet extremely.
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Of course. I'm happy to help anyone from our shared homeland. Please let me know if there's anything else I can do for you.