False Harmony

Through the thick underbrush, a pair of keen silver eyes watched as the ravens who had gathered to drink the morning's dew squawked harshly and flew away in a rush of dark feathers.
"They sense it, as do we." The owner of the eyes was crouched tensely, his elegant purple fingers caressing the fur of a Nightsabre tiger cub. "Although the ravens have poor sense of smell, they simply know it. They know who are coming."
The Kaldorei's hair was emerald green and grown long, pulled back into a low horsetail decorated with feathers; his ears were longer and more pointed than the tiger's. Like many night elves, his violet face was chiseled flawlessly, except for a large scar that marred his high cheekbones.
"The orcs, the tauren, the humans, even my own brethren." His voice was low and wise, teaching the cub all that it would need to know. The feline rested its head upon his thigh, looking up at him with large, intelligent blue eyes. "They battle, yet Kalimdor deserves a rest. Even after the demonic taint left our lands, they will always battle."
The sun had almost gone down. A soft, beautiful face of oranges, pinks, and purples blended subtly and harmoniously together kissed the grass-covered plain. The earth pushed the sunset away – it was not the time for romances. A battle was coming, and the animals were quiet in respect for it. It made the night elf uneasy to hear his home ghostly silent.
"I will not fight with them. I will never – why should I? It is my nature to shy away from quarrel. It is my nature to stay with the wild, to cultivate the land. I will always be running from them."
He was silent again. The sunset left the earth forgivingly – there was always the next day. It reminded him of the half-orc woman whose skin was not the sunset's color, but a pale jade unlike anything he had seen, lighter than the orcs' and greener than the humans'. She had been a shaman, one who respected and spoke to the earth. He learned from the half- orc how everything was connected, and how even the Horde could be similar to the Kaldorei.
The Alliance had little regard for nature and tore down trees as if they were cold stone – yet the shamans asked the trees if they would sacrifice themselves and they would ask the deer if they would spare meat, fur and antler for the tribe. It was truly admirable, how orcs and tauren lived in such harmony, such friendship, with wildlife.
And so the lone night elf watched the greenskins and the pinkskins clash steel to steel on the battlefield, and he knew that his orc woman would be out there, ripping out roots to entangle her foes and bringing down lightning to incinerate them. Yet she would die, lost to the evil magicks of human sorcerers, and the lone Kaldorei ranger would be left in solitude, with only the animals and the trees to speak to.
Although the rest of the world would suffer in discord, he would have his own false harmony.

A/N: One shot seriousness. I know, it was a bit incoherent, but still pretty. Like it, hate it, review it. - Wicked