Day of the Dead

The Day of the Dead was simultaneously Emrys' most favorite and hated holiday. He laid in his bed and looked up to the ceiling in contemplative thought as his eyes reluctantly opened in the morning light. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he cherished the building blocks of life that entered and exited from his core.
In years past, the youth had spent weeks preparing for this monumental day. Memories of his uncle Cadfael and mentor August flashed through his mind. How they pushed him to achieve new levels of spell weaving. Year after year... his research furthered. The Day was marked usually with Emrys' arm hilted to the elbow inside a corpse's cavity, rune drawing, and channeling. Maybe today would be the eureka moment.

Would it have made a difference if he offered himself as a vessel for August on this day, the Day of the Dead? Maybe, maybe not. The air felt different on this day. Even if he had long not used his talents in the Void, he could still faintly feel the difference today had.

His hand reached out to his nightstand to reach for his glasses. The benefit of paying meticulous attention to details, and a creature of habit, is that his glasses were always in the exact same spot on the nightstand. He sat up in his bed and set his feet on the floor.

Elbows at his knees, he ran his fingers through his hair. Memories he shouldn't have assaulted him. Where he was when he heard Matheredor forces killed Cadfael. And August? He was likely obliterated when the ritual went south thanks to Matheredor's interruption. If only he could sneak away and try to speak to them. Perhaps being dead, they'd have a new perspective.

*No.* He thought. This was his life now. He had a woman who loved him. He had a cushioned job. He generally liked his work beyond paperwork. Every day, he found something new to capture his attention. And yet... this day brought feelings of restlessness. His desire for self-preservation conflicted and fought with his desire to continue pushing the veil between Life and Death. And the sky above Icecrown? How tempting it was to flitter to Northrend and try his old work under the broken sky on this day. When Matheredor forces joined Amberstaff Research and Development, he could feel how the power had changed in that snowy wasteland. His core ached with need.

*No.* He thought, again. He stood and started to make his bed. From his nightstand drawer, he retrieved his level. Blankets were tucked in particular ways and the patterned comforter allowed him to be more precise. The lines went here and there. Once the comforter had been splayed so that no wrinkle was seen, he ran his level over the fabric to ensure the bubble on the instrument was where it was intended. He set himself to the ground to ensure the bed skirt, sheets, and comforter hung in a perfectly straight line. The level was then returned to the drawer in its' intended spot and the drawer was gently closed. Closing the drawer always moved the tissue box stored on the top of the nightstand, and Emrys reflexively adjusted it so that it lined parallel with the edge of the nightstand.

Satisfied, Emrys went to his wardrobe to collect his clothes and bathroom supplies.

Warm soapy water was tossed over blonde locks. He needed to shave today, too. He caught a glimpse of the man he was becoming in the mirror. Nearly two years had passed since Matheredor forces captured the Dollmaker. A year and a half of heavy plate armor, weapon training, and Paladin Light study. The lanky, studious, youth looked like his father even more now- with his mother's coloring. His heart ached with need to see them again. That was all he had ever wanted.

*This is my life now...* He thought again before the mirror. *And I have things to do today...*

 He had a possible Scourge invasion to prep for. And while he had never commanded an army that wasn't void controlled to be entirely obedient- he did understand the dead and the Scourge on a personally intimate level. He had to wait for mail from his lightforged draenic friend, to see if those ring designs were completed. He had prisoners to check in on. He had a date with Sky for the evening. He had troops to deliver new commands and rotations for.

Dried and prepped, the youth buttoned the final buttons on his dress shirt and tied his tie. He had things to do today. Different things than what it had been in the past. But, things, all the same, to keep himself busy.