Just an idea I had while on a bank alt in what might be my favorite in-game city. I don't know where I'm going with this, or how often I'll update, so please be patient.
I own nothing but the typos I'm sure I missed when I proofread it. Hope you enjoy it.
Jenath thumped his feet against the edge of the stage in a rhythm borne solely of boredom. His fellow auctioneers, he knew, were doing much the same thing. It was the same scene, day in and day out, an auction house, a bazaar, practically an entire city devoid of life.
He puffed in annoyance at the hair falling over his eyes, and at the fact that he couldn't leave. His shift wasn't due to end for hours yet, judging by the angle of the light streaming through the open archway before him.
"This is ridiculous," Jenath said for the thousandth time. And for the thousandth time his colleagues voiced their agreement but offered no solution.
Jenath dropped the few feet to the ground. He brushed the wrinkles from his pants and turned to the other three auctioneers. "I'm going to sit by the fountain. It's too fine a day to spend lazing about in here."
Before the others could protest, though he wasn't sure they intended to, Jenath stepped out into the Bazaar. Across from him a pair of weapons vendors, Rahein and Falendis, sat on the steps in front of the shop they shared. Seeing they were just as busy as he'd been, he waved and turned towards the fountain and the benches surrounding it.
Taking a seat and reclining, Jenath looked skyward. The afternoon sun bathed him in its pleasant warmth, tempered somewhat by the breeze that rustled through the leaves overhead, golden like so much of the city in its eternal autumn.
He drank in the majesty of it all, like he did so often. Crimson banners bearing the Silvermoon crest rippled in that same breeze. Atop his auction house stood a pair of sculpted elf maidens, caught in mid-dance. He knew a similar trio stood behind him, composing the centerpiece of the Bazaar's fountain. And above it all rose the Sunfury Spire, the center of Sin'dorei power and majesty.
How was the city so empty? How could the other races of the Horde so completely ignore such beauty as this? Not for the first time Jenath wondered, but fruitlessly. It had been weeks since he'd seen anyone who wasn't a blood elf, save the handful of ambassadors roaming the streets.
Even they didn't grasp the glory of what Silvermoon had been, what it could be again. He gripped the bench in frustration. As if he'd summoned them with his musings, the emissaries of the Horde strode into sight, closely tailing Ambassador Kelemar. The group passed by Jenath, heading for the Wayfarer's Rest and disappearing inside.
He busied himself with idle though as the afternoon slipped by. When Kelemar finally emerged from the inn, without the band he was forced to lead around Jenath seized the opportunity and hustled to join him.
"Ambassador," Jenath said coolly, falling into step beside the taller elf as he left the Bazaar.
Kelemar eyed him warily for a moment before he responded. "Jenath. How might I help you?"
"How goes the babysitting?"
Kelemar blew a sigh. "Relations with our Horde allies are strong," he answered, monotone, like he was reading a script he'd performed countless times before. For all Jenath knew, he was. "We stand united against the threat posed by Deathwing and his minions, as well as that of the Alliance."
Jenath nodded as the pair strode down the Walk of Elders. "And now that the company line has been recited, what do you think?"
"Why do you assume I think otherwise?"
"Because our city is dead or dying and out allies," Jenath spat, "don't seem to care."
"Silvermoon is not dying. The Sunwell is restored; our people no longer need to resort to draining the essence of demons to stave off madness!"
"And yet half of our city lies in ruins, infested with mindless wretches. Undead mass a stone's throw away despite the Lich King's defeat months ago."
"It takes resources to rebuild, resources we're gathering."
"It's been years!" Jenath argued, drawing looks from bored vendors as the pair passed by.
Kelemar shushed him, watching the eyes that watched them. He grabbed Jenath by the sleeve and pulled him along until they stood in one of the city's many choke points, in the shadow of one of the equally numerous Kael'Thas sculptures.
"Between the Legion's attempt to take Quel'Danas," Kelemar started, both elves involuntarily glancing up at the towering likeness of their disgraced former leader, "and the war against the Lich King, our coffers aren't as full as we'd like or need to rebuild. Hence the tax on all auctions, for instance, which you're well aware of."
"Of course, of course. But five percent of nothing is…let me do the math here," Jenath replied, tracing numbers in the air. "Nothing into nothing…carry the nothing…"
Kelemar forced his hand down, flushing in frustration. "I understand your concern but rest assured we are working on a solution. Quel'Thalas will be the jewel of the Horde soon enough."
Jenath laughed, not believing the other elf for a second. "So far all you've managed to do is sit and argue plans of action back and forth in a committee! What good does this do us?"
The ambassador glared daggers but didn't respond, just stalked away. As Kelemar slipped from sight around a corner, the auctioneer leaned against the wall, the marble cool enough in the perpetual fall to chill Jenath through his thin shirt. He blew a sigh, feeling no better from the conversation, ran a hand through his pale tresses, and lost himself in thought on the way home.