((This fic-thing is actually something I wrote kind of a long time ago, during Children's Week in WoW. I play on a roleplaying realm, so ya, this is basically just my character Kaihne's first encounter with her lil orphan. Man, I didn't want to have to give him back...))
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Of Death and Children
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I stare at it. It stares back.
"Grunth, tell Kaihne hello," the orcish matron urges as she nudges the small green child closer to me. It instead runs and hides behind her skirt, peeking over the hem of the skirt to look at me as if it thought I couldn't see it otherwise.
"So you're gonna be taking care of me, huh?" It asks me.
I almost had the urge to tell it no and walk off, but instead I nod my head slowly, halfway holding the notion that any sudden movements will startle it. "Uh huh."
Taking this as some form of reassurance, its--his smile splits into an all-out grin as he pounces out from his shelter behind the old orcish womans skirt and clings to my hand before I can stop him or pull away.
Seeing the miniature being clutching my hand in affection, the old matron smiles with a somewhat maternal air, but something more lingers behind it--relief. The sort of smile that practically tauntingly screams, "Now he's your problem!" Without further adieu, the matron motions with a wave of her hand for the other children to go inside then retreats from sight herself, leaving me and the kid standing outside by ourselves.
By the Dark Lady, what the hell have I gotten myself into? I didn't like kids when I was alive and I certainly don't like them now. Bratty, smelly, hyper, annoying little things...
A tugging on my robe brings me back to the problem at hand. I look down too see two red eyes staring right back at me, brimming with curiousity. "Your armor looks scary," he tells me bluntly, looking at my black and silver trimmed robes. It's almost amusing he doesn't seem to see my glowing eyes, rotting flesh, or protruding bones as scary. Just my cloths. "Does that mean you're scary too?" He asks, looking at me expectantly.
At that moment in a surge of annoyance, I had the urge to scoop him up and toss him right back into the orphanage. Let someone else take care of him! I don't care if it is Children's Week! Casualties of war, fah! We Forsaken are all casualties of war, and we don't get a week to honor us. Not that I want a 'Forsaken week' because that would be weird, but uh...
Resigning myself to the fact the orcish matron would probably snap me in half if I tried to return the kid, I force myself to grin down at the child-orc, deciding for the moment to humor him. "Maybe I am."
The kid's eyes practically glow with excitement. "Cool!"
I smile a little bit then--a real smile. The kid is kind of cute in an, uh... ugly-orc kind of way. But we've doddled long enough here--there's places to see, things to kill! I beckon the child to follow me as we walk into the shadowed area of the Drag, thinking, perhaps, that this won't be as bad as I first thought.
Then the questions start.
"If a glove is too big, does it still fit like a glove?"
At first, I thought it was kind of cute and witty. "I dunno."
"If a turtle loses its shell, is it homeless or naked?"
Then it got annoying. "I... dunno."
"If a fly has no wings, would it be called a walk?"
Then I wondered where the heck the kid was getting these lines since I knew he wasn't thinking of them himself. "I... oi! Ask one of the, uh, nice guards of Orgrimmar we pass, okay?"
"But you're a hero, aren't you? You're s'posed to know everything!"
With the kid still stumbling to keep up with my fast pace, I realize this is gonna be one long week.
