A chair crashed on the wall, splintering with the force of the impact.
From across the room the figure's eyes were bright with barely contained anger, their silvery hue made her features look all the more eerie in the darkness. Dim moonlight through a window showed her tense posture, hands clenched to either side and nails digging into palms, threatening to break skin. Almost too pale hair cascaded down her back stopping just above her waist, dark pink shade of her skin clearly stated her as a Kal'dorei, as if long ears angling back, weren't clue enough.
The now broken chair would have burned to ashes with the magnitude of her glare, as if it were been the culprit of her pain.
No, it was all her fault. She had known it was going too far, she'd be pushing the boundaries of what was expected for someone of her rank. She, proud elven warrior, sentinel, shouldn't have allowed it and had done the right thing by walking away.
A vase of elven design also met the wall.
She traced fingers through hair, holding it on the top of her head and took a steadying breath. Eyes closed. For a moment keeping still, collecting herself to avoid any further damage to the Order's property. She already had much to explain, not only the now broken pieces on the ground, but it hadn't escaped the captain's notice her periodic disappearances, even for days sometimes. But knowing of her innate independent spirit and hadn't asked much of it... yet.
Another good reason to have ended it that night. She owed much to the Order and had sworn in Elune's name to protect what it stood for and fight the against darkness that threatened Kalimdor. She had done exactly the opposite many times and it still bothered her greatly.
She lowered her hand, turning her glare to the full moon in the sky that seemed to both, offer comfort and mock her.
It had only happened that afternoon, but as she stood in front of the glass pane covering the window seemed like days had already passed. Not that she'd ever admit to missing him.
He had cast the barest of glances down to the bag thrown at his feet, but turned grey and shadow eyes to meet her moon-touched ones instead. Expression concealed under the cowl, although she could have sworn to see the smallest tightening of lips. Or had she imagined it? Had she hoped for him to say something? To stop her retreating form as she turned her back to him and strode out of the Inn his cult, Shadowlords as they called themselves, used as a hang out?
No. She mentally scolded. She had gone, single mission in mind and had carried it out. Outcome would have not been swayed no matter his reaction or words. Her jaw clenched and she barely kept herself from driving her fist through the window.
The bag had contained many items he had given her at one time or another, little gifts that she had accepted... for some reason she did not dare to think about. All but one and she lowered her hand to her navel, where the crimson teardrop gem rested.
He had told her to keep everything, but was ignored. There was really nothing in those items that interested her: dresses, jewelry. All meaningless to her sentinel upbringing.
She brushed fingers over the smooth gem. Except this one. She told herself it was but an oversight, that in her haste she had forgotten about it true though? or was she once again lying to herself? Perhaps the one gem had more meaning to her... She silenced the thought immediately.
A slight frown appeared between her pale brows and she pursed her lips. It was too late to return it now, but she could not bring herself to get rid of the gem either.
She dropped the hand from the piece and turned to pick up her blade, which she had placed down -or rather thrown- when she walked into the room. As she was about to return the item to its rightful place at her back, the reflection of her eyes caught her attention. Even she could see the harshness forming, of one that does her duty and protects others, but keeps them at arm's length. A silent observer and a weapon herself. No longer was she going to be haunted by leading a double life.
A guilty pleasure. He had called it once, just as a hand traced the length of her stomach and lips brushed over her neck.
Averting her gaze, sword was finally strapped back in place. She strode out of the room, new determination showing in every step.