Damaris Satinsun devoured every letter, eyes flashing over the words and across the lines. The book was written in flowing Darnassian, on fine vellum parchment with a silver-gilded leather cover. Adventure and romance, heartbreak and joy, plot twists and pitfalls filled the page. Damaris loved it.
Books like the one she was reading were expensive, more for the elaborate script and illuminated pages than the content. The moment she had seen this one, with the rampant unicorn, she had been enchanted. Now she read walking through the busy cobbled streets of Darnassus, relying on her quick reflexes, peripheral vision, and Arithe to navigate. Too late she noticed the elf coming toward her, too late she heard Arithe's warning growl. She crashed into him spectacularly. She managed to hold onto her book, but would have landed sprawling on the ground if not for the warm, strong hand that caught her. She looked into glowing golden eyes set into a handsome, elegant face, and her heart skipped a beat. Oh, dear Elune…
Damaris quickly regained her balance, but made no move to shake the hand off. "Thank you for catching me."
"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going," the other elf replied with a small half-smile. Damaris smiled back, heartbeat quickening. The elf bowed to her, in the process removing his hand from her arm; she felt the loss keenly as her skin chilled. Or was it that the rest of her was just a little too warm? He spoke again: "I am Seric Haventree. It is a rare pleasure to meet you."
"Damaris Satinsun," she introduced herself, mentally slapping herself for forgetting her manners. "And the pleasure is mine."
Seric straightened and grinned rakishly. Damaris felt herself melt. He brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, and then offered, "Let me buy you lunch. I can apologize properly for bumping into you, and maybe we can get to know each other."
"That's a wonderful idea," Damaris agreed readily. Spending a whole lunch with this vision? She wouldn't say no for the world.
A low growl shattered the warm, fuzzy feeling that had begun to form in Damaris's chest. She looked down crossly at Arithe, and was surprised to find the cat crouched, her muscles tensed, eyes fixed on Seric and ready to attack. Seric seemed to notice her for the first time, and smiled somewhat condescendingly at her.
"Is it yours?" he asked.
Damaris would, when reviewing the conversation some time later, be highly offended. At the moment, she was wondering why Arithe was so angry. "She's my friend, yes. Arithe, what's wrong?"
Arithe didn't take her eyes from Seric, who had knelt in front of her. Later, Damaris would think he had been phenominally stupid. Now, she was simply curious as to what he was doing.
The elf stretched out a hand to Arithe, and her hackles rose. She lunged forward, her powerful jaws opening, then closing with a snap on air where Seric's hand had been. Had he been any slower, his hand would have been missing a few fingers. Damaris was horrified. "Arithe!"
The cat was unrepentant. She shifted back into a defensive crouch, her growl louder. Damaris didn't know what to do. "Arithe, why did you do that? What's wrong with you?"
She turned to Seric, who had backed up a step was watching Arithe warily. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into her; she's not usually like this."
"It's all right," Seric said, though his tone revealed it was anything but all right. Damaris twisted her fingers together, and seeing her nervousness, Seric took a step forward, intending to soothe her. Arithe leapt in front of Damaris, baring her teeth and hissing, fur on end. Seric jumped back, and Damaris angrily grabbed Arithe by her scruff, hauling her forcibly back.
Damaris towered over her pet, and Arithe seemed to realize she'd crossed a line. Her ears flattened, and she mewled. Damaris's eyes turned stony, and she said coldly, "If you can't be civil, Arithe, go back to the room."
Arithe took a tentative step toward Damaris, her tail lashing anxiously, but Damaris was steadfast. So, seeing no other choice, Arithe growled once more at Seric, and left. Damaris faced Seric. "I'm sorry," she said helplessly. She looked down and waited for him to rebuff her and walk away; after all, who would want to be around an elf whose best friend was a psychotic nightsaber who wanted nothing more than to take a piece out of him?
He approached her, and took her hand. A shiver snaked down Damaris's back at the touch.
"Lunch?" he suggested, and she looked up. His eyes were warm. Damaris grinned in relief.
"If you're sure," she said.
"I insist."
"Then how can I refuse?"
After that first lunch, Seric and Damaris were nearly inseperable. He showed her all the nooks and crannies of Darnassus, all the interesting things that only locals would know. Damaris put everything else on hold: her hunter training, her questing, even Arithe. For her part, the feline avoided Seric, and ignored Damaris. Damaris found her behaviour worrying and frustrating. However, seeing no way to change it, she let Arithe be.
One night, Seric invited Damaris to his 'humble abode,' as he called it. With only a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen/dining room and living room/entry hall, Damaris agreed it was small. Yet it had a homey, charming feel, and she loved it. He made dinner for her, and that night they declared themselves officially a couple.
Damaris found herself telling Seric all about her childhood in the Shadow Glen. It didn't bother her that he shared almost nothing about himself, beyond that he had been raised in Darnassus. She was patient, and figured that he would tell her when he was ready.
It had been a month and a half when things started to fall apart.
They were sitting on Seric's couch, sharing chaste kisses. One of Seric's hands rested on Damaris's neck, his thumb rubbing gently up and down. The other arm was wrapped possessively around her waist, holding her to him.
"I should go," Damaris whispered reluctantly, noting the darkness outside. "Arithe will be worried."
"You said yourself Arithe was ignoring you," Seric pointed out quietly. "Stay."
"I shouldn't," Damaris murmured. There are a thousand reasons why I shouldn't, and yet…
"Please, stay the night," Seric pleaded gently. "My bed is big enough for two. And it's bound to be more comfortable than a bed at the inn."
"Well…"
"Please," Seric asked again, the hand on her neck moving to stroke her cheek. "Stay."
"All right." Damaris gave in. She couldn't say no, not when he was looking at her like that. He stood, taking her with him, and still kissing, led her into his bedroom. There, he made short work of his outer leathers, and was working on his inner tunic when he saw her playing awkwardly with the wrist-ties to her armour.
"Damaris?" Seric asked, moving toward her. Damaris didn't look up. "What's wrong?"
"I—I've never—" Damaris cut herself off, and took a deep breath. You're being silly. Just tell him straight out; if he laughs at you, he laughs, and you go home. "I've never had sex before. With anyone."
Seric smiled indulgently at her. "What made you think I want sex?"
"You invited me into your bed. Can you deny sex wasn't at the forefront of your mind?" Damaris said, then looked away. "I mean, you're…"
"I'm what?"
"A guy," she finished lamely. Oh, wonderful reasoning, Damaris, she told herself scathingly. So what if Mother said that's all men think about? Maybe Seric's different. You don't know.
Seric chuckled, and hugged Damaris. She melted into his arms. "I won't deny that sex wasn't a reason for asking you to stay. You're beautiful, Damaris. What man could resist that?" He gently began to unlace her leathers. "Don't worry about being a virgin."
He kissed her, this time passionately, his hands still working on the lacings of her outfit. Damaris was soon as eager to get them off.
Finally, they were both standing in their undergarments. Seric raked his eyes over her, and Damaris blushed. He smiled, and took her by the hand. Gently, gently, he lay her down on the bed.
Later, when Seric was sated and asleep, Damaris worried. Had she done anything wrong? What if he hadn't liked it? Had she made a mistake, having sex with him? Damaris worried until exhaustion finally caught her and stole her into sleep.
The next morning, Damaris woke late to an empty bed. Where was Seric?
Shaking off worries that were most likely unfounded, she took a quick shower. Once she was clean and alert, Damaris went looking for her absent—boyfriend? Lover? What is he now? She searched all the rooms, but found no trace of him or of any message he had left. The worry from last night returned with a vengeance. Standing in front of the couch, biting in the inside of her lip, Damaris tried to consider the problem rationally, as she had been taught to. Emotions kept getting in the way. What do I do? Nothing? What if he left, left as in not coming back ever? Did he just want me for the sex? Or was it just that the sex was so bad he doesn't even want to be around me anymore? I mean, I thought it was great, but what experience have I had? That's right: none. What if it was horrible and I just didn't know? What if I did something terribly wrong? What if—
Her train of thought derailed as the door creaked open. Seric stood silhouetted in the frame, the sunlight bathing his form and creating a halo around his light blue hair. Oh, Elune, he is beautiful… she thought for the umpteenth time. Then he moved inside, and the effect was lost.
"Have you eaten?" he asked, coming to stand beside her.
"No. Where did you go?" Damaris was much more interested with why he had left. She had thought he was more chivalrous than that; she had just lost her virginity, after all.
"Out. Something important came up," Seric said dismissively, moving into the kitchen. Damaris followed.
"You couldn't have woken me up?" she asked plaintively.
"I was needed immediately."
"A note? I was out of my mind with worry," Damaris said. She didn't quite believe his excuse. "Was it…was it something I did?"
"What would you like?" Seric asked instead, sidestepping her questions. "For breakfast."
"Seric, you didn't answer me," Damaris said, anger creeping into her voice.
"Are you always this touchy after sex?" Seric growled.
"I wouldn't know!" Damaris cried, anger shifting quickly. "Last night was my first time! And you let me wake up all by myself, no note, nothing! You left me to worry if I had done something wrong—if you would even come back at all! Seric—"
He cut off her slightly hysterical protest with a gentle kiss. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here. Now what do you want?"
"I want you to tell me if I did anything wrong!"
"For breakfast, Damaris," he clarified patiently. It didn't escape her notice that, for the third time, he didn't answer her question.
"I think," she swallowed, "I think I want to go out and get some fresh fruit."
"That's all?" Seric frowned, cupping her face with his hands and rubbing the thumbs down her cheeks soothingly. "Maybe some pancakes. I know you like pancakes."
Damaris actually liked waffles better, and she knew she'd told him that before. The worry morphed into a vague dread in the pit of her stomach. "I just want some fruit. That's all."
"Well," Seric let go, and stepped back, "if you're sure."
"Yeah," Damaris said. Seric nodded, though his eyes seemed far away, thinking of something else. Damaris placed a kiss on Seric's lips, and he returned it almost absently. Biting the inside of her lip, Damaris left quietly.
Seric had avoided all mention of the night before. Had it been that bad? Damaris didn't know, and Seric wasn't telling her. Feeling awful, the night elf skipped breakfast in favor of a long walk. By the end of it, she was still just as confused and uneasy as before.
Over the next few days, Damaris saw little of Seric. He used his nebulous something—which he never explained in great detail—as an excuse to leave early from meals and dates, or not show up at all. To occupy the time she spent alone, she decided to learn alchemy, an art she had been curious about for some time. She spent hours slaving over potions, learning and practicing.
Damaris saw even less of Arithe than she did of Seric. She assumed the large feline roamed Darnassus unrestrained, since she wasn't often at the inn.
Finally, sick of waiting for Seric to talk to her, she decided to talk to him. Regardless of how the conversation went, Damaris simply wanted it over with.
Damaris strode through the moonlit paths of Darnassus until she reached Seric's little home. She knocked, softly, and was surprised when the door opened under her knuckles. Frowning, she entered the house. It was dark but for the light that filtered through the windows. Cautiously, Damaris crept through the living room, past the kitchen, and as she neared the bedroom she became aware of heavy breathing. Her sharp ears picked out two different patterns.
Dread blossomed in the pit of Damaris's stomach, and she approached the bedroom slowly and silently. She froze, heart racing, as a loud moan echoed through the hall. Elune, that wasn't Seric, was it? Shaking with fear, she looked through the crack, and saw—
Skin against skin, light blue hair spilling over a smooth back, strong hands grasping, flat chest to flat chest.
For one moment, all Damaris could do was stare in horror. Then, acting mechanically, Damaris crept back down the hall, out the house, and into the night. She was shaking so hard she could barely walk, but she had to get away. Without a thought, she broke into a sprint. Tears blurred her vision, but it didn't matter: all she could see was Seric and someone else, someone who wasn't even female.
Maybe I could understand if it was another woman. Even a whole harem of women! But—a guy? Nothing made sense, and only the burning in her legs and lungs brought her back to herself. She took stock and realized she'd run clear out of Darnassus.
"Oh, Elune, Elune, Elune," she groaned, collapsing onto the cobblestones. "What will I do? He—Goddess—he was cheating on me! He is cheating on me!"
She couldn't quite comprehend: Seric, who had been nothing but kind, nothing but charming, nothing but chivalrous, was cheating on her? And not even with another woman—but a man. It wouldn't process.
Damaris didn't know how long she sat in the middle of the road, but eventually she simply stopped thinking. She realized how much time had passed when the sun began to tint the sky yellow. Then she stood, and began to walk back to Darnassus.
She would talk to Seric. And she would break it off.
She brushed a stray whisp of hair back and knocked loudly. The midday sun shone on her dark leathers, making her aware of the swirl of emotions running through her.
Seric opened the door, and smiled when he saw her. Damaris scrutinized the look; was it fake? Was it insincere? She couldn't tell.
His smile dropped a bit when she didn't smile back, and he let her in. "Damaris? Is something wrong?"
"Yes," Damaris said, making a split-second decision not to let him know she saw him with a man the night before. "Something is."
"What?" Seric gestured for her to sit, and Damaris obliged. Seric lowered himself onto the couch next to her.
"We never see each other any more," Damaris began. "You've been avoiding me since—that night. Why?"
"I told you all ready," Seric said. "I've been busy."
"So busy you can't even take the time to have lunch?" Damaris needled. "So busy you can't spend ten minutes to talk to me?"
"Yes, Damaris, that busy," Seric snapped, standing. "What do you want me to tell you? What I'm doing is important."
"Important to whom?" Damaris asked, eyes flashing. She stood as well, anger and hurt making her blurt out, "You? Darnassus? Or maybe that guy you were fucking last night!"
She paled; she hadn't meant to let on she knew. She had wanted Seric to tell her, to own up to what he was doing. He didn't even look fazed by the accusation. In fact, he looked almost—pleased? Damaris felt she was surrounded by invisible wolves, waiting to tear her apart at her first wrong step.
"So you saw?" he asked, voice calm. "I had meant to tell you soon. Maybe make it a more gentle revelation. Too late now, though."
Damaris didn't say anything.
He continued, "You wanted to know what you did wrong, didn't you?"
She nodded, swallowing down a leap of fear at his answer.
"Everything," he informed her coldly. "You did everything wrong. I've never had such bad sex in my life. Some people need experience; I doubt all the experience in the world would do you any good."
Damaris held back a cry, blinked back tears. She had wanted to know, hadn't she? Now she did. In a small, trembling voice she asked, "What about last night?"
"Last night?" Seric sneered, his eyes alight. "Last night was the best night of my life. After our disasterous coupling, I don't think I ever want to get near a woman again. Not when I risk that."
Damaris wrapped her arms around herself, and lost the fight with her tears. But Seric wasn't done.
"So I thought I might see what it's like for the other side," he said. "And what d'you know, it was everything I always wanted."
Damaris didn't know what to say, couldn't say anything; her throat was tight and blocked by something large and hard. Seric was staring disdainfully at her, and she could just make out the malicious twist to his lips through her tears.
She needed to get out. She stumbled out the door, her muscles not working quite right; the world had been pulled out from under her, and she was falling, falling, with nowhere to land, no hand to pull her to safety, just endless space and the wind roaring in her ears.
A warm nose pressed into her cheek, and she looked up, eyes unfocused. Something dark and four-legged stood next to her, and it took a moment for Damaris to recognize Arithe.
She threw her arms around her friend, hugging the furry body to her and burying her face in Arithe's neck. It didn't matter that Arithe's fur was soaking wet and chilly, and that water was dripping to soak into her leathers. All that mattered was that Arithe was there, and that Damaris had something to hold onto. All that mattered was that there was someone else in the void.
She was shivering, this time with cold, when she stopped crying and looked around. She was on the ground, sitting by the edge of the lake, her spine twisted in an awkward position from hugging Arithe. That would explain why Arithe was wet.
She buried her face into Arithe's thick fur again. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse and muffled. "I'm so sorry, sweetling. I should have listened to you; I should have thought—but I wasn't thinking, and I didn't listen, and I'm sorry. Arithe, please forgive me…"
Arithe pulled out of her grasp, and Damaris felt her heart crack with despair and regret. But all the feline did was turn so she could nuzzle Damaris's cheek and lick the tear tracks away. Oh, sweetling, I don't deserve you…
She rested her forehead on Arithe's for a moment, and simply breathed. Arithe's prescence washed over her, and she realized how much she had missed her companion. With a sigh, she could already feel some of the pain Seric had caused trickle away. "Elune, I missed you."
A deep rumble in Arithe's chest signified her agreement.
With Arithe's help, Damaris was able to stand, and walk on shaking legs back to the inn. Once there, she stripped out of her wet clothes and then set to toweling Arithe dry. After that, she curled up with her best friend on the bed, and draped one arm over Arithe's chest. She fell into an exhausted sleep, her face pressed into Arithe's soft, warm fur.