Immaculate
"I feel cold, Mrs Hale," the little girl whispered hoarsely, the sweat beads on her pale forehead glinting in the light of the candles.
"I know, dear. But you'll feel better soon, I promise. I'll make you a cup of tea, alright?"
The girl gave her a weak nod and closed her eyes.
Belfrida Hale got up from her position near the bed and made her way into the kitchen where she began preparing the expensive tea leaves her husband had brought her from Dalaran.
The girl, Pamela, was not her first patient to show no reaction to her treatment. She had tried everything: cleansing herbs, potions, even her most powerful healing abilities had had no effect on the seven year old's mysterious illness.
The sickness was, however, not the only sign the priestess had observed spreading with increasing haste through Gilneas. People had slowly but surely started disappearing. She had not seen Andersen's wife for a week now, and Andersen himself seemed paranoid, and he kept in the shadows, not venturing outside unless he had to.
The neighbours were whispering in the streets. Some of them claimed to have sighted creatures lurking in the darkness, and the city guards were on alert. The people of Gilneas were in danger, Belfrida knew it, and she felt it her duty to somehow prevent what was coming, but she could not see how. She had done everything she could to draw attention to the changes in their society at the last council, but no one knew more than she, therefore it had quickly been dismissed as a passing oddity. But the sickness was there, it could not be ignored. As of late, Belfrida had been watching the townsfolk more and more every day, and behind the paranoia and the disappearances she had made disturbing discoveries. She had caught one of the butcher's young boys tearing apart a raw caribou flank with his teeth, the blood running down his arms and dripping from his elbows. He had made a strange, beast-like noise when he had seen her, and before she could ask him what he was doing he had jumped a fence and was out of sight within seconds.
Two days later she had passed a young woman by the river who was frantically shaving her upper lip with what appeared to be her husband's "borrowed" barber kit. This would perhaps have made Belfrida chuckle gleefully, but the woman's shaking hands and the sheer panic in her eyes had convinced her it was not the time for giggles.
With a sigh, Belfrida poured the finished tea into an extravagant porcelain cup and returned to her patient's bedside. Pamela looked up at her with feverish eyes as the priestess carefully handed her the steaming cup.
"The meeting will be over in less than an hour. Your father will come to collect you soon," Belfrida said, helping the little girl hold the tea.
"But you haven't cured me," Pamela mumbled between small sips to avoid burning her tongue.
"Not yet," Belfrida said with a smile as reassuring as she could master. She placed the cup on a small table near the bed and softly stroked a strand of Pamela's thin, straw-coloured hair away from her face.
What happened next, Belfrida would not soon forget. For something changed in the little girl when she caught the scent of the priestess' smooth, dark skin. An explosion of red filled her eyes, her nostrils flared and a pained, dog-like whimper escaped her dry lips as her head snapped to the right and she sank her tiny white teeth into Belfrida's wrist. The puncture wounds immediately started dripping red.
Pamela gasped, her eyes widened and she pushed herself up against the wall, her small fingers clenching the bed quilt.
Belfrida uttered a series of curses and rushed to the kitchen sink where she pressed out as much blood as she could before she started rinsing the wound and channeled her healing powers into her skin. She was not surprised when she found that in spite of her efforts, her skin refused to close. Splendid, absolutely splendid. Damn that snotty little brat,she thought angrily as she bandaged her wrist carefully and forced herself to wear a small smile as she re-entered the patient's room.
"I'm s-so sorry," Pamela stuttered, appearing utterly confused and appalled by the taste of blood on her lips.
Belfrida handed her a napkin, careful not to get too close to the child again. "You meant no harm. It was not your fault, dear."
"What's happening to me?"the girl asked, her lower lip trembling as her eyes filled with tears.
"I don't know," the priestess said, her eyes fixed on the little bloodstains that were slowly forming on the white bandage.
Dorissa rested her forearms on the window pane and glanced up at the clouds blocking the view of the summer sky. They were dark with heavy rain, and it looked as if the water could spill at any moment. Not the ideal weather conditions, she thought to herself. If Jillian's hair is in any way in danger of being ruined…
Her train of thought was abruptly interrupted when the door behind her opened and a rather flustered Jillian entered closely followed by Luridel and Eridess who had been working on the human's hair and makeup for two hours straight. The two of them had done a remarkable job; the dark shades under Jillian's eyes had miraculously vanished despite the fact that she had only had a maximum four hours of sleep that night.
"Oh Riss, I'm so nervous. What if he changes his mind?" she asked as Dorissa crossed the room to help her dearest friend out of her bathrobe and into her dress.
"Jill, how many times do I have to tell you that you're being ridiculous and irrational by even considering that a possibility?" she replied stiffly while concentrating on buttoning the back of Jillian's dress.
"At least once more," the human mumbled, seemingly lost in thoughts of utterly apocalyptic nature.
Dorissa placed her hands on Jillian's shoulders and turned the black-haired woman to face her.
"Jillian Lee Jones," she said formally, "you are being ridiculous and irrational. He loves you," she finished with a reassuring smile, her well-trained reflexes quickly catching the tear that was threatening to spill and smear her friend's makeup. "You look absolutely beautiful."
"You really think so?" Jillian asked, her brown doe eyes shining with gratitude.
"That I do." It was true. The young warlock was stunning in her light, crème dress. It was perfect on her; not so subtle that the guests would draw attention from her, and not so resplendent that the dress itself drew attention from Jillian's lovely, heart shaped face. The simple golden tiara was perfectly settled in her up-do, and the thin veil that hung from it was carefully slung across her high bun.
Dorissa gently lifted it down to cover the woman's face. "You're ready," she said, smiling softly while drawing her friend in for a light hug.
"Yes. Yes, I am!" Jillian flashed a brilliant smile and reached for the bouquet Eridess held out towards her. "Is Zaladin here?" she then asked, slight worry showing in her eyes.
"Of course he is. He wouldn't miss your wedding at any cost, Jill," Dorissa said with a crooked smile.
"But have you actually seen him yet? Is he safe? I wouldn't be able to live with myself if the guards caught him!"
"Relax, Jill. No, I haven't seen him. But I can tell you that he is safe. The guards wouldn't have noticed him if he waded right into the Stormwind Keep and butchered the king."
"Don't say such things, you never know who might be listening," Jillian giggled. She then switched back into a state of slight panic. "Is my breath alright?" she asked and blew the half-elf in the face.
Dorissa rolled her eyes. "It's fine, Jill."
"Fine? What do you mean by 'fine'?"
"By 'fine' I of course mean that no scent in the whole of Azeroth exceeds the minty freshness that is your breath. I'm awfully sorry I didn't make it that clear to begin with. Now, you stay here while I fetch your brother before you fiancé thinks you've chickened out on him."
As Dorissa stepped out of the Stormwind Cathedral the sun broke through the clouds in warm beams, lighting up the scenic setting behind the cathedral where the guests were getting seated on the low stone benches in front of the marital pavilion. "Thank heavens," she muttered under her breath as she quickly passed the benches on her way to the pavilion where Hunter, Jillian's brother, was talking to a very excited Nathaldor.
"Ah, there she is!" Hunter said with a huge smile. "You look lovely, Riss, absolutely lovely. Blue suits you," he added, gesturing to her flowing sapphire dress. "May I ask if the seat next to yours at the party is reserved?"
"Watch it, Hunter," Dorissa said with a smile and a cocked eyebrow. "He's here, you know."
"Yes, so Nathaldor tells me, but I won't believe you until I see him with my own eyes. I'm starting to think this mate of yours is just an excuse to get rid of me," he said, his lips forming a confident, crooked smile.
"You will wish it were once you have met him," Nathaldor said with a grin. He then turned to Dorissa. "Is she ready?" he asked, his dark eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Aye, she is. Are you?"
"I can honestly say that I have never been more ready for anything in my entire life."
"Those are strong words considering you're four hundred and seventy-eight years old."
Hunter's eye twitched at her words, and he let out a small, nervous laugh. "My sister's marrying an old man, you say?"
"Not at all. He's actually around thirty-two in human years." Dorissa laughed as Hunter's face merged into utter confusion. "Hey," she said, nudging him on the shoulder. "It doesn't matter how old he is. He's the man your sister's marrying, and they're a perfect match."
Hunter's features relaxed as he smiled at her. "That they are. Are you absolutely positive you're taken, dear?" he said, winking at her. "God knows I'd be on my knees for you if you weren't."
Dorissa rolled her eyes and smiled. "You never learn, do you?"
"Of course not, milady. Now, will you take me to my little sister before she faints and falls into the canals?"
"Yes, let's go. Tell the twins to start the music in five, will you?" she said, adding the last bit to Nathaldor.
"I shall," he replied and headed off to find Ameltha and Elathem who had been assigned the task of gathering a string quartet for the event.
"What took you so long?" Jillian asked with a frown.
"She's been on the verge of a nervous breakdown ever since you left," Eridess explained.
Dorissa sighed. "I was gone for less than ten minutes, Jill. The ceremony is starting in five."
"Remember to breathe, sis," Hunter said, lightly kissing his sister on the forehead. "Is everything alright?"
Jillian took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm fine." She looked up at her older brother and shrugged. "I wish dad could've been here."
"I know. So do I. But at least our dear mother showed up."
"I don't know whether to laugh or cry at that news," Jillian muttered.
"Don't worry. She'll keep her mouth shut. I'll make sure she does."
Jillian managed a small smile. "You look nice in a suit," she then said. "You should dress up more often."
Hunter chuckled and brushed his black tousled hair out of his brown eyes. "I'm afraid my craft doesn't really allow it. Or perhaps there's a new group of suited up blacksmiths in town I haven't yet acquainted?"
"Tch, you know what I mean."
The soft sound of violins started drifting through the air, and Hunter took Jillian by the arm. "Ready to stun the crowd?"
She grinned at him. "Ready."
Dorissa, Eridess and Luridel wished the warlock good luck and hurried to their seats. The three females had officially been appointed the human's bridesmaids, but the aisle was neither long nor wide enough for five people, so Jillian had reluctantly decided they were allowed seats during the ceremony.
Looking for an available bench, Dorissa realised with slight regret that the only space that was not taken was on the front row next to Jillian's mother.
Annie Jones had probably been a much kinder person before she was widowed nine years ago, but that was a side to her Dorissa had rarely experienced. Having only met Jillian's mother at seldom occasions which Jillian had begged her friend to attend, Dorissa had already gotten the impression that Annie Jones would never be listed among her closer friends. The problem was that Annie Jones was completely smitten by Dorissa and would seemingly gladly have adopted her and forgotten all about her own daughter.
"Dorissa Nightsky, how lovely to see you again, darling!" Annie Jones proclaimed theatrically, caring little for keeping her gravelly voice down.
"Hello Mrs Jones," Dorissa said with a forced smile, deciding it was a lost cause to correct the woman's use of her old name.
"How've you been? Why, it's been so long since I last saw you! What have you been spending your time with recently?"
The usual. Saving the world as you know it and all. Not that you give a rat's arse."Nothing special. I've just been helping out with the wedding preparations."
"That's nice, dear," Mrs Jones said, somehow instantly managing to make Dorissa feel like a little girl even though she was almost six times the woman's age. "Can you believe she's actually doing this?" she then asked, tossing her wavy, strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder with a small snort.
"Yes. Yes, I can."
Seemingly listening to the answer this time, Mrs Jones turned her head towards Dorissa and raised her lined brows. "You're not against this at all?"
"Why would I be?"
"Why sweetheart, they're not of the same race. It's not natural! And besides, her husband," she said, rolling her eyes at the word, "will outlive her with hundreds of years. She'll grow old and hate herself every time she looks at his young face."
"The future does not matter much to your daughter, Mrs Jones. She lives in the moment, and this is what makes her happy. And humans who are close to elves tend to have a longer lifespan than ones who don't, for that matter. They'll have many wonderful years together."
The music faded and a new song started, signaling the coming of the bride. Everyone turned their heads, and several gasps and longing sighs were heard as the beautiful young warlock turned the corner of the cathedral and was led down the aisle by the arm of her handsome brother. Dorissa glanced up at the pavilion and was filled with warmth when she caught Nathaldor's eyes tearing up at the sight of his soon to-be wife. As the dark clouds moved in again she breathed in the smell of impending rain, and a slight hint of a familiar, sweet scent found its way to her sharp senses. She discretely turned her head to the right and scanned the surrounding gardens.
She had to concentrate hard, but she managed to catch a glimpse of his cold, blue gaze. He was watching her, she could feel it. There mere knowledge made her skin tingle.
Two years had passed since she had made Zaladin Grimtusk's acquaintance under the ghostly light of the Undercity chandeliers, and the death knight still had the same effect on her. She sent him a challenging smile, and she could've sworn she saw him flash a bestial grin, but the moment after he had disappeared into the shadows once more.
Dorissa turned her head back towards the bridal couple who were now standing opposite each other as Ildoren performed the formalities in place of the vicar who had refused to join two different races in holy matrimony.
Jillian had been far from torn upon hearing this. To her marriage was not a sanctified thing, she had explained to Dorissa on their way back to Moonglen Village after having been turned down by the reverend. She simply saw it as a way to show a commitment between two people, and she had actually been relieved when she was given the chance to ask Ildoren to change the words to not include any reference to a divinity whatsoever.
As for Nathaldor, Dorissa had asked him if he had known of Jillian's view on the concept of marriage when he had proposed to her. "I did not," he had said, "but I was delighted to find I did not have to answer to a god I hold no belief in."
"But you would have done it knowing it was just another race's version of everything you broke away from?" she had asked.
"I would," he had answered firmly.
This was one of many solid proofs of his love for Jillian, and had Dorissa questioned his sincerity at any point all her doubts would have instantly vanished from that moment on.
Briefly looking away from the couple, her eye was caught by Hunter's, and he winked discretely at her. She smirked at him and shook her head lightly. She had met him for the first time a year and a half earlier, a handsome, strong man whose mother had wanted him to live up to his all too limiting name. Hunter, however, had never had any interest in this, and to his mother's deep regret he had chosen the path of the blacksmith. She remembered laughing at his strikingly good imitation of a horrified Annie Jones who had almost shouted at him: "But Hunter, I thought you wanted to be like your father? You silly boy, do you not want his memory to live on in you?"
"What in the world did you tell her?" Dorissa had asked with a raised eyebrow and a light laugh. She had expected teenage Hunter to have suggested his theatrical mother to shove her ideas up where the sunlight never came, but his answer had surprised and impressed her when he said: "I told her that if she could not see how very like my father I was by making that decision she had never really known her husband at all. I didn't exactly go for first place in the popularity contest that day."
His carefree, yet extremely strong and mature personality had won her heart just like Jillian's, and he and Dorissa had instantly clicked as soon as they spoke, but she could not completely grasp if he was simply joking about his crush on her or if he was in fact telling the truth. Probably a bit of both,she decided, studying his kind face with a nearly invisible frown.
"So, Dorissa, is there a man in your life these days?" Mrs Jones asked, efficiently interrupting the half-elf's train of thought.
"Yes," Dorissa said absently, momentarily forgetting the consequences of answering the woman.
"Well, spill the beans, dear, who is he?"
"He's…" she started, but a thought occurred to her, and she flashed the woman a brilliant smile.
"He's coming here, so you'll meet him later today."
"Oh, fancy that. I can imagine he's a tall and handsome elf?" Annie Jones said chattily.
"He's tall and handsome," Dorissa agreed, subtly avoiding a specification of Zaladin's race.
Mrs Jones rummaged through her silken purse, seemingly once again having lost interest in the conversation she had so eagerly started. "That sounds lovely, darling."
You'll see exactly how lovely that is, Dorissa thought with a dark smile.
"You may now kiss the bride," Ildoren said with a soft smile, and as the rain began to fall quietly from the heavens, a single beam of afternoon sunlight broke through the heavy clouds and lit up the faces of the happy couple as Nathaldor lifted Jillian's veil from her face and pulled the human in for their first kiss as husband and wife.
The guests cheered and applauded the newlyweds, and all as one they got up to congratulate the happy couple.
"Look at you, all grown up," Hunter said as he hugged his younger sister with a great smile.
"You better hurry if you want to catch up with me," Jillian said teary-eyed and with a light laugh. The human turned to Dorissa who was waiting for her friend to be available for the next of many following embraces.
"I'm so happy for you, Jill," she said, wrapping her arms around the human. "You look beautiful together."
"Thank you," Jillian managed, sniffling. "Have you seen him?" she whispered in Dorissa's ear.
"I have. He was here throughout the whole ceremony."
"I sure hope he's alright."
"Jill, come on. It's Zaladin," Dorissa said with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow as she released her friend.
"I suppose I'm underestimating him a bit," Jillian giggled.
"Congratulations, sweetie," a hoarse voice said behind Dorissa. Annie Jones seemed to have decided upon putting aside her prejudices for now, and she quickly stepped closer to pull her daughter in for a stiff embrace.
"Uh, thanks mum," the warlock managed, seemingly rather uncomfortable in her mother's arms.
"And you must be..?" Mrs Jones said hesitantly with narrowing eyes as she reached out to shake the hand of her daughter's husband.
"I've told you a millio-" Jillian started, but Nathaldor gave her a gentle squeeze and smiled brilliantly.
"Nathaldor," the raven-haired elf said and took her mother's hand. "I am pleased to meet you, Annie. I have heard many things of you."
"Hmm," the older woman said, seemingly uncertain of the nature of those 'things' and what she thought of the fact that Nathaldor had used her first name. "You take good care of my Jillian now," she finally said and stepped aside to engage in conversation with a rather reluctant Hunter.
Dorissa snickered. "I think you just saved the day," she said, and Nathaldor snorted.
"I have been informed of the nature of my mother-in-law quite frequently as of late," he said and sent his wife a crooked smile. "I believe I can handle her, though."
"It certainly looks like it," Jillian said, looking quite relieved that she had not been forced into another argument with her stubborn mother. "But don't let your guard down; she'll have lots and lots of hours to make a comeback."
"She can try. There is absolutely nothing that can ruin my mood today," Nathaldor said and cupped the woman's face to let a passionate kiss soften the skeptical draw around her rosy lips.
Ha-HA! I bet you all thought I had died. I know I did.
I did not lie when I wrote in my last Author's Note that I doubted I would be able to compose another story about my beloved druid and her death knight. I was trying much too hard at the time, and everything became forced and half-hearted, so I decided to put it on halt to avoid disappointing myself and all of you.
But when the Cataclysm struck my plot bunny was resurrected and began hopping like a madman, and now I am back in business, my dearies!
I just cannot wait to hear what you all think. So grasp your virtual pens and grant me the gift of your reviews and I shall purr like a happy kittycat.
- Nemi