2Summary: This is how you end up killing time when you screw up, get scooped up between life & death, & are reborn to become something which you hated & had spent all your breaths fighting before. Set in WotLK.
DISCLAIMER! Blizzard = Not mine. Warcraft, World of Warcraft, and the related universe and merchandise = Not mine. Please Enjoy.
The sun was shining outside on the glimmering spires of Dalaran. She barely noticed.
She drew the sharp dagger across the delicate veins in her creamy forearm again, watched the scarlet blood come pouring out in slow, trickling rivulets... Before lighting up into a blue radiance and disappearing completely, leaving nothing - not even a mark - on the flawless skin of her slender arm, but only a few fey-blue runes to glow faintly over the skin where the dagger had just made its slow, deep path across her flesh, now fading fast into nothingness and leaving her pale arm perfect once again.
Her ice-blue eyes were utterly blank, staring at nothing as she did this over and over again, making slow gashes in her arm and watching them heal again seamlessly, all as if it were nothing different from merely twisting a finger idly through her long soft hair on a particularly boring and uneventful day.
Her long, pointed ears twitched and she thought that she heard someone speak her name behind her. She really didn't care.
After a moment, another hand came up from behind her and gently grasped around her fingers holding the dagger, stopping her from continuing her macabre pastime. A gentle, masculine voice spoke low in her ear as its owner's arms slowly wrapped around her waist, "That doesn't do any good, you know."
She turned around to face her companion, frosty blue gaze meeting his burning green one, and held up her arm for him to see, the faint runes fading again into her pristine skin, and said flatly, in a dual-toned voice that she barely even recognized anymore as having ever been her own, "Clearly, it doesn't do any harm, either."
A/N - I never thought I'd do it, but here it is. I finally wrote an M-rated fic. M for the self-deprecation that the elvish Death Knight was engaged in, of course.