A young female blood elf sat in the shade of a great tree somewhere in the Ashenvale Forest, tinkering with some small device. The expert engineer carefully turned the device over in her hands, working on it with a quick and graceful skill that comes with much practice. Her toolbox at her feet, the young warlock was deeply concentrated on her task at hand.
Suddenly her ears twitched at a nearby sound; a seemingly injured woman and what was certainly the horrid shriek of a harpy. Curious, the warlock got to her feet and brushed her dark banks from her eyes. She quickly tucked her items away in her bag and peer around the massive trunk of the tree to see a night elf priest engaged in battle with three furious, ferocious harpies. She did not seem to be doing very well, and from her position behind the tree, the blood elf could see lines of blood glistening on the purple skin of the night elf.
The warlock gave a small, unenthused chuckle. "Pathetic Alliance," she muttered. She considered turning back to her work, but could not quite bring herself to look away.
She found herself watching the night elf fight. She watched her long eyebrows bowed together in her efforts. She slowly became aware that she was mildly impressed with the other elf, much to her annoyance.
Two harpies had fallen, dead, and the third was soon to follow. Unfortunately, their shrieks had attracted their terrible sisters, and three more had joined the battle. The priest had been doing a decent job at keeping on top of the fight with a balance of offensive and healing spells, but now she was overwhelmed and it grew apparent this fight would not end well for her.
The warlock gave a small, annoyed growl, and exited her position behind the tree. From a safe distance she began to cast her curses upon the bird women, and they quickly began to show signs of faltering. It was not long until the combined efforts of the priest and the warlock had all of the harpies dead in a pile on the ground.
The priest, weary from her efforts, looked around, knowing she alone did not accomplish this task. Her eyes fell upon the other elf a short distance away, and she looked, for a moment, surprised.
"Blood elf," she said, her weakened state apparent despite the obvious attempt to disguise it, "why?"
The blood elf looked away and shrugged. "You needed the help," came her haughty response.
The night elf's eyes narrowed and she continued to stand as if ready for battle.
The blood elf noticed this and gave a wry smile. "Do you really plan to take me on now? Do you really think you have the energy to do so? You need to rest. You are still bleeding."
The other elf did not move and said nothing.
Annoyed, the blood elf spoke louder. "Look, I will not hurt you." She placed her knife on her belt. Though both elves knew this meant nothing, as the blood elf was clearly a warlock and did her damage with magicks and not a weapon, it was a gesture that meant something.
Finally the stiffness visibly relaxed in the night elf's shoulders and she nearly crumbled to the forest floor.
The warlock rolled her shining green eyes and walked over to the other elf. "Come with me," she said, hoisting the once-again tensed night elf's arm over her shoulder. "I will help you heal."
The nigh elf, though wary of this help from her enemy, felt her consciousness slipping from her and could do nothing but shuffle her feet in the direction in which she was guided.
By the time the warlock had gotten the priest to her nearby tent, the young night elf had fallen into a state of unconsciousness. The warlock gently laid her down on her blankets and pillows on the floor and took a moment to look her over.
The night elf certainly was something to look at. Her features gentle, yet commanding all at once. The hue of her skin was the same, regal and soft. Her robes were not looking the best because of the harpy attack, and scraps hung off her shoulders, where dark blood could be seen. Some of this blood was on the warlock as well.
"I have some work to do," she muttered to herself, tearing her eyes away from the sight before her. With care, the warlock, who was immensely skilled in both tailoring and first aid, having spent most of her life alone and traveling, patched up both the other elf and her tattered clothing.
After her task was complete, the warlock sat down at the edge of the tent and resumed her tinkering on the gadget from before. She thought that she would occupy herself for a short time until the priest awoke, but it would seem that would take longer than anticipated. Eventually the warlock grew bored of her tinkering and annoyed at her own inability to stop glancing at the other elf in the tent. The boredom became tiredness, and she warlock dozed off their, sitting up, tools in hand.
The priest awoke to the reddish glow of a setting sun giving the tent a strange, ethereal appearance. She looked around, briefly confused by her surroundings until the moments before her unconsciousness came back to her. She reached up to feel some of her scratches, and instead found stitching, which surprised her. She noticed her robes too, had been prepared. This was not something she had expected. She wondered why the blood elf had done so much for her. She wondered, in fact, why the blood elf even bothered to save her love. They were, after all, members of opposite factions, doomed to despise and kill one another at the whim of their leaders. Furthermore, night elves had been the ones to exile the blood elves in the first place, in the time when they were still high elves. To say their kind were not on good terms with one another was a drastic understatement.
The priest looked over at the smaller elf asleep against the tent wall. She did not want to disturb the elf, and found herself rather weary yet, having gone many days without proper sleep, and so she sat with the patience of Elune, and waited.
However, it would seem her patience was not as grand as one would expect of a night elf priest, and after several minutes she grew restless. Moreover, her curiosity over the blood elf was drawing her to get a closer look at her savior.
She slowly and quietly inched herself closer to the other elf who was breathing quietly, apparently oblivious to the outside world. The priest stopped before the warlock and gazed curiously at her. Who was this person and why did she save her?
The night elf noted the pinkness of the blood elf's skin, in contrast to her darker skin. The blood elves, in the time when they were yet high elves, had turned away from Elune to spend their days in the sun, and had lost the darkness of their skin then. They were smaller, too, due to their addiction to the arcane and loss of their power source when the Sunwell had been tainted. It was interesting, really, to be of nearly the same race, and yet so different.
Then again, the slimy snake-people, the naga, had once been night elves, too. That seemed much less interesting. The blood elf before her did not seem to be some horrid monster; in fact, the blood elves crimes of using the arcane seemed so little when compared to Queen Azshara's betrayal and subsequent transformation into the naga.
The night elf observed the soft features of the small elf and noted she was quite elegant. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders, and her bangs grazed her eyes only slightly, falling across her forehead. The night elf's gaze wandered down the blood elf's body and fell upon the knife at her hip. For a moment she wondered if she should be so near, or so trusting. Yet, the priest decided, the warlock had saved her life, and so deserved some trust at least.
She also noticed the small gadget in the warlock's hands. Curious, she gingerly took it from the other elf's delicate fingers. Sitting back, she turned it over in her own hands, trying to figure out what it was. However, she was no engineer and truly hadn't a clue.
"That would be the samoflange confluxitor device for my flying machine," came the weary, and yet still haughty voice of the blood elf, whose green, glowing eyes were now fixed upon the night elf. In the ever dimming light of day, she was a sight which inspired a slight tinge of both terror and excitement in the night elf.
"Sorry," the night elf responded. "I was curious."
"Well," said the blood elf, taking back her device, "you know what they say about that." Her tone was snappy, but the priest did not get a sense that she needed to worry too much.
After a few moments of awkward silence, the priest spoke. "Why did you save me?" She looked up at the other elf, her own eyes glowing in the evening light.
"Didn't we already go over this?" Responded the blood elf in drawling, bored tone.
"Yes," said the priest, herself getting annoyed, "yet I am dissatisfied with your response. We are enemies, blood elf, you should have let me perish. What would your warchief think of this?" Her own haughty tone, a trait night elves are well known for, had returned.
"Ha!" Came the warlock's surprising response. "As if I care what Hellscream thinks of me! Besides, I am but a small peon in his war efforts. I want nothing to do with any of it. I tend to stick to myself and do my own thing. Furthermore, night elf, my name is Linca."
The priest thought this over for a moment before softly questioning, "Okay, Linca, is that why you are here in this tent in the middle of a forest?"
The blood elf nodded, her eyes somewhat narrowed as if on guard.
"Well, that does not really explain why you saved me. We are still enemies."
The blood elf seemed to have had enough. "I am aware of that! Would you have rathered I just left you to die? I am beginning to think I should have."
The priest narrowed her eyes as well. "No, I do not wish that. I was simply wondering. Just forget it. Perhaps I should be going. Thanks, I suppose."
With that, the night elf took a step outside of the tent. There, she stretched out, unaware of the blood elf's eyes upon her.
"Right. Bye," came a curt response. Good bye, night elf."
The night elf turned suddenly back around to face the blood elf, who had crawled out of the tent and now sat starting a fire.
"My name is Sabely, by the way." She was back to her haughty night elf self for sure, and held herself proudly, her staff in hand.
"All right, nice to know," was the short response of the blood elf as she cast a small hellfire spell and the fire came to life in a blaze, casting fierce shadows over the area.
The priest seemed conflicted for a moment, on her heels ready to leave. "Listen," she said finally, "you may be my enemy, but you did me a great service today. Is there something I can do to repay you?"
Her response was silence for the longest moment as the blood elf either ignored her completely or thought it over- it was not apparent, there was no facial expression to read. Then, suddenly, the blood elf's face broke into a wry grin and she gave a small, frightening chuckle that reminded the priest this was a warlock she was dealing with.
"There is something," she said with a drawl.
"Yes?" Questioned the night elf, nearly perfectly hiding her hesitation.
The blood elf stood up, her graceful features highlighted by the light of the fire. She looked at the night elf across the fire, her own features more fierce and awesome in the shadows cast by the flames.
"Kiss me," she said.