Waking up to the considerable bulk of scowling night elven arrogance standing over her would have normally warranted a ball of flames, was it not for Bal's presence at her side. Fandral Staghelm was intimidating in stature, and less than pleasant in personality, but especially in her sleepy haze, she failed to be impressed. Ignoring him completely for a moment, she tested her shoulder, noting the bandage now wrapping it. A twinge of pain was the only reminder that it was wounded to begin with. Shifting her weight also supplied notice that her back was no longer in ribbons. The relief was staggering.
"Marrik stated that you claim to be dragons. Yet your..." His lips curled into a slight snarl, "Servant... refuses to speak."
Taking her sweet time, she neglected response until the tension in his frame was palpable. Finally, she glanced up, eyebrow raised. "He is my servant, and is under orders not to speak." Her tone was berating, and seemed to inspire a wish from him to slap her, by the twitch and curl of his hands at his sides.
"What proof do you offer, girl?"
The lack of respect grated on her nerves, but she supposed she could forgive him in light of the fact that she was lying through her teeth. Rolling her shoulders in a shrug, she adopted an expression of disinterest.
"I've no proof." An outraged snarl left him, but before he could make more than a vague motion to a nearby sentinel, she cut him off. "I have been unable to change my form since I was wounded. We were ambushed by a Qiraji magi just outside of Southwind Village."
Mentions of Southwind made him pause, as she hoped it would. The indecision was clear on his face, before he made an impatient gesture.
"What news of Southwind?"
Choosing her words carefully, her features remained neutral. "We witnessed a battle taking place within the walls, but weren't able to get close enough to see its status before we were attacked."
A scowl touched his lips, gaze snapping to her with heated interest. "You claim to be bronze. Tell me what will become of our efforts." A raised eyebrow was his answer. Once again, she interrupted him, as his face flushed with anger.
"You act as if I'm under your command. While you have our gratitude for patching us up, we owe you only the same in turn."
He reared back, as if to strike her; in a flash, Bal blocked him, snorting out a warning. The night elf sputtered in disgust and took a step back, gesturing to the sentinel. "Kill them. They're obviously lying to save their skins."
Gently tugging Bal's tail to get him to move aside, she sneered at Fandral. "Kill us, and you incur the wrath of an entire dragonflight. Treat us as real guests, and you will discover the truth from the son of Nozdormu himself."
The inflection behind her words, more than anything, made him pause. In a way, she was not lying about the second part. In honest, she was not certain that even Bal was worth enough to the aloof dragonflight to start a war. That did not stop her from sounding as if she were completely certain and knowledgeable. Looking utterly disgusted with the situation, he glared at her.
"You will work, while you're here. If you step a single toe out of line again, I'll risk the gamble."
With that, he turned to stalk off. Bal returned to his seat, staring at her with a disapproving frown. She grimaced at him, laying back down and letting out a sigh. Murmuring quietly, to discourage eavesdroppers, "Let's hope Anachronos's feeling generous in this era." It prompted a snort from him.
As anticipated, the next day was greeted with the arrival of Rajaxx and his army. She and Bal were among the soldiers who gathered to face the might of Ahn'Qiraj. They stood in the back ranks, a pilfered cowl covering her pale skin, though nothing could conceal the drake's bulk and hooves. News of their arrival had spread rapidly throughout the camp, and she disliked the attention. It was with mixed feelings that she now found herself ignored in light of the oncoming fight.
Having chose their location strategically, they were well away from Staghelm. Such did not keep them from hearing his anguished cries, as his son was executed before his eyes. Not even she could repress a wince of conscience. Bal outwardly looked unmoved, but she could feel his turmoil through the bond. There was no time for comfort, however, as they were swept up in the charge to battle. She only hoped that the following months would pass quickly.
Soon, she regretted her wish. While the days and weeks passed in a blur, it was by no means peaceful. They fought daily against the onslaught of seemingly innumerable Qiraji and silithid, fighting tooth and nail to keep their hold at the pass. But as foretold by her history, they were pressed back steadily, until the lush green of Un'goro Crater presented the backdrop. Somehow, she and Bal escaped dire injury, aided in part by her foreknowledge of how best to dispatch the masses. Her fast temper and swift retaliation was a cause for fear and respect for those who found themselves swept up in a raging inferno of green flame on the battlefield.
To her credit, she only once harmed a night elf, early on in the battle. After the initial first wave of fighting, a soldier had gotten in the way of her purging of the battlefield. If any of the older elves recognized her demonic tactics, they had yet to call her on it, as her methods ensured no burrowers attempted to infiltrate behind their lines. One blessing to the melee was the easier avoidance of Staghelm. She had little doubt that he would blame her for his son's death, for lack of a better target. She would prefer not to be killed by a grieving father who thought her a bronze dragon.
The heady weight of exhaustion encompassed their forces, many becoming demoralized with the realization that no matter how many they killed, the Qiraji numbers never dented. The two waited with baited breath, daily, for the call to retreat. The only place left to go was Tanaris, and from there, they would return home. The waiting was more agonizing than the near constant struggle. More than once, she considered abandoning the elves to their fate, but the opportunity never presented itself.
The long awaited order reached them from Fandral himself. Catching up to them during a lull in battle, he looked as death warmed over. Contrary to expectation, he simply glanced at her listlessly. "We test your theory, girl. It is your supposed flight's aid we now seek."
With that, he had ridden off, shoulders slumped in defeat. Finding themselves once again marching across a desert was less disheartening, with the knowledge of their destination. The hills housing the entrance to the Caverns of Time came into view after four days of constant travel. They refused to pause the march for knowledge that they were pursued, and despite their already downtrodden spirits, none complained. During the day, the night elves slept in the saddle, and at night, they walked the large cats. Those who could not keep the harsh pace fell behind, to be consumed by the offensive.
It was not until they approached the disconcerting path leading into the caverns, that the army paused. The broken husks of various racial structures buried in the sand was a very welcome sight to them, as a sentry herded them to the front of the unit. In the distance, they could already glimpse Anachronos' large form, waiting patiently for them to draw near. The overgrown lizard nearly made her wish to cry- Bal whimpered from beside her, fidgeting as if to restrain himself from pouncing Nozdormu's heir. Fandral's lips pulled into a sneer at the distressed noise, but was barred from comment, as the great dragon looked them over with a knowing air.
"Fandral Staghelm, I know why you are here..." He paused, gaze once again drifting over the displaced travelers. "Balaen, Dievas, it is good to finally see you again. Andormu wishes to speak with you inside. I believe you already know the way."
Quite happy to ignore the night elf, with such blatant invitation, they neglected the glare directed at their backs as they jogged into the mouth of the cavern. The steward was absent, but shortly down the winding, dizzying, path they encountered the wardens. They were ignored, for the most part, but a couple paused to watch them pass. The winding network of tunnels and caves seemed just the same as in their own time, save the absence of the temporally displaced orcs, and dwarf, vendors. While the walk seemed unaccountably long, the dais came into view just as she began to feel irritation surge.
Zaladormu rested as he had always, near Nozdormu's hourglass, his form shadowed and insubstantial. Skirting his platform, they made a beeline for Andormu and Nozari's older forms. The younger displacements had always creeped her out, during the services she had provided the Bronzeflight in her own time. Safely out of sight from elves and dragon heirs alike, Bal at last gave into the urge, sweeping a bemused Nozari into a bone crushing hug. She patted his back comfortingly, raising an eyebrow at her brother. He shrugged sympathetically, but made no move to aid in prying the young drake from her side. Instead, he nodded to the bone weary warlock in silent greeting.
"I would say it's a pleasure to see you for the first time, again, but I doubt you'd appreciate the gesture, given current circumstances. If it lends comfort, I will punish Madormu in a few thousand years."
Her fierce glare prompted a small frown, and the dragon raised his hands to placate, before she could respond. "We have yet to know you as you are, however we felt the rift, and one of our Time Keepers supplied the rest. I regret his harsh actions, and the resulting, and unnecessary hardship he forced upon a mortal, and his own kin... The punishment will be suitable to what you've gone through, seven fold, as without your presence, Balaen would have perished under the might of the Qiraji."
The very notion confirmed as she had suspected. The dragon whom Balaen had insulted, had not known, or cared, that he was so tied to a mortal when he ripped open a time way. They would have sent him to death for a simple argument of words. The dragons had better prey that she did not sink her claws into Madormu before his own punishments were in place. As if sensing her thought, Nozari spoke up, having finally extricated Bal from her person.
"We understand the personal nature of the slight. But we must ask that you not seek retribution. You are more than capable of subduing one of us, this we know. However your power would be challenged by the ebb and flow of time itself."
The lack of satisfaction made her bristle, shooting the ever silent Bal a look. The drake was hers, and such toying triggered every instinct she possessed, to obliterate the source of his current apathy. The twin dragons before her looked grim, but firm, in their insistence. At last, she scowled, shaking her head.
"Send us back, so that we might begin recovering." Looks of regret sent a sensation like ice water down her spine. A grip of outright terror threatened to break her stoic features. A furry body pressing into her side was the only anchor which kept her calm. She needed to remain strong, for Bal's sake. She could be accused of being many things, but when it came to those that were firmly hers she refused to let such a simple thing as fear get in her way.
"Events are already in motion. To send you back before completion would risk ripples with unforeseen consequence."
Sparks of felfire encompassed her hands unbidden, giving away her opinion far clearer than any words. Andormu looked genuinely sympathetic, but firm. "If you no longer wish to participate, we offer you our hospitality, until such a time as we might return you safely."
The offer lent no comfort, as she well knew that not even the Caverns would be safe from the swarm. A nauseating weight settled over her at the knowledge. "Send Bal to the Shrine, then, until it's time."
It was surprisingly the drake in question who raised protest, shaking his head vehemently and spearing her with a suffocating array of emotion through the bond. "No, master." His voice was firm, and uncompromising. He would stay with her until hell froze over and the world perished under the Qiraji army. Bitterly, she knew that not even fear of punishment from her would negate his decision. If she sent him away, he would find his way back even at the expense of his own life, should she reinforce an order with Will.
Witnessing the slump of defeat to her shoulders, the tauren whined quietly. He regretted her obvious distress, but refused to apologize. He would be punished for his impudence once they were safely back within her mate's camp. Sensing the tension between them, Nozari spoke up.
"At least stay with us until the night elves march again. We are aware that your current forms cause discord among them."
The fight had left her with Bal's rejection of her orders. Spitefully she wondered when she had become worthy of sacrificing lives over. Of her two drakes, the bronze had been most unwilling to conform to her strict standards. Now he acted as if he held the right to decide his own fate. He shuffled uncomfortably, edging away, as if sensing her wrathful thoughts. Heaving a sigh, she finally relented, "Fine. We'll stay in the tavern if it exists, and leave with Staghelm. The faster we get this over with, the faster we can leave."
Andormu nodded, recomposing himself. "The tavern is as it's always been. I trust you know where it is." He wavered a moment, as if debating with himself. "... There is another... guest, staying there... Do not allow his eccentricities to upset your rest."
The words were ominous, but far tamer than the previous topic. Curiosity slowly replaced the harsh feelings, as she pondered who could prompt stoic Andormu to warn them of another traveler. Too worn down to do much more than nod, she turned to lead the way. The notion of strong alcohol, fresh food, and comfortable bedding eased some of her ill will at the dragons. It was obvious to her that the drake who caused the disruption had been acting independent of the time keepers.
Slumping into the decrepit building wedged into a wall of the cavern, the innkeeper greeted them silently with a mug of ale and warm stew. The meal stole attentions, and they dug in with little regard for manners or surroundings. Marching on starvation rations of stale bread and moldy cheese was not conducive to healthy diets. The succulent clam meat and hearty vegetables made her wish to melt in pleasure. Her drake shared the opinion, letting out inelegant noises as he abandoned utensils altogether.
It was only after his bowl lay empty, that Bal thought to glance around curiously. A strange noise prompted her to glance up, startling a bit with flame sparking to her palm, before the object of Bal's attention registered. A gasp escaped as she froze in utter shock. A familiar cheshire grin of bemusement was being directed at them from a shaded corner of the small building.
Deep red hair framed molten eyes, which crinkled at the corners as he watched them scarf down the food. Feathers absent, and robes that of the Keepers of Time, Kal looked much the same as she recalled, save the unsettling coloration of his irises. Even the loathed chain still rested around his throat. Despite his gaze, not a shard of recognition passed over his features as he regarded them. Never the less, he nodded his head, impishly reaching up to feel his face.
"Do I have dirt?"
The infuriating tone of innocence sparked a wave of homesickness even as it evoked a wish to slap him silly. She held herself back, however. Simply observing him carefully, while calming Bal's excitement through the bond. This Kal, was not the one she knew. His features held none of the tension of fake cheer, and the shadows weighing his demeanor were almost non-existent. The comfortable justification for her instinctive ire was the fact that his smirk was just as infuriating, as he leaned forward to smile charmingly.
"Don't be frightened of my eyes, pet. They burn for you." The crooned attempt at flirting made her scowl.
"Save it for someone who cares, pretty-boy." He recoiled as if struck, hands springing to clench his heart in mock agony.
"Oh! Doth the stars weep and spurn the advances of the sun!" His dramatics were comforting, in that they sparked a familiar fire somewhere near her sternum. It was the burning desire to roast him alive while gagging him with his own shorts. Thankfully for the young future priest, they were interrupted by the arrival of another drake.
This one donned the guise of a more traditional night elf, eyes of molten bronze raking over and taking stock of the situation. First his gaze landed on her, and Bal, taking in her pursed lips and tense features, as well as their ragged and stained appearance. Finally, they came to rest on the the source of her annoyance. His lips quirked into a slight smile, even as he strode over to smack the back of the calico's head, prompting an outraged yelp and pout.
"Stop harassing Andormu's guests, love, or they'll ship you back to the Gurubashi."
She watched with morbid fascination as the normally unflappable chromatic blushed a deep shade, peering up at the night elven bronze contritely. He spared her a glance of apology. "Sorry, I was just making my own fun until you got back from the new timeway."
The two exchanged a look so sweet, that it made her physically ill to watch, yet could not bring herself to look away. Observing them carefully, she noted the bands around Kal's upper arms were matched on the night elf. None of the other keepers held such decoration. The implication made her shift uneasily. In her own time, she knew Kal held a dislike for the purple-skinned race that rivaled her own. Granted, she did not police his habits, but she had never seen him in the friendly company of one (the Illidari did not count). Or any other dragon, for that matter.
Unmindful of their company, Kal stood to draw the taller male into a tight embrace, standing on tip-toes to press a heated kiss to his lips. An eyebrow inched up slowly, as they maintained the kiss for several long moments. She was not bothered by the public display, but rather, entirely bemused at the thought of the calico, and his attraction to her mate suddenly making sense. Beside her, Bal flushed a bright shade beneath his fur, and glanced away, embarrassed.
It was inevitable that their repose be disturbed a few short hours later. Having anticipated it, she was not startled in the least when the wardens began roaring the alarm, the sound of battle trickling in from outside. The three drakes in her company jumped to their feet, while she stood slowly, stretching to work kinks from her spine. Kal and his lover rushed from the inn without hesitation, hurrying to aid the defenders against the Qiraji invasion. Before her drake could move to follow, she barred his way with an arm.
"This is not our fight. You know just as well that the Caverns won't fall."
Wavering a moment, he spoke up quietly, "If this were the Temple, and you could prevent the massacre of Illidari... would you be able to stand aside?"
The sting of such a question made her wince. Staring at him for a long moment, she moved slowly out of his way. With a quiet nod, her bronze rushed out to join the fray. Sorting out her own thoughts on the matter, she was both gratified and saddened to realize that Bal had indeed grown from the experience. She simply was uncertain if it was a change for the better. He could attempt to save his kin during this battle, but the crushing weight of failure would be unavoidable. Taking a moment to compose herself, she followed at an almost sedate pace, absently blasting a flying silithid with felfire as it broke free of the dragons barricade.
Anachronos soon realized the futility of ignoring the Qiraji threat, with such bold actions against the Caverns. Every dragon and night elf fought tooth and nail to push the massive army back, but for every one killed, ten would take their place. They made slow headway only by the might of the dragons crushing the insects in great numbers. Though she never got a chance to speak with him again, she saw the bursts of molten lava, and ever changing breaths of Kal's chromatic heritage in the melee. Occasionally his scales would catch her eye as he passed overhead, but there was little room for distraction at seeing his true form for the first time.
The near constant press of battle was relieved with the arrival of night elven reinforcements from Feralas, and the other dragonflights. The added numbers bolstered moral, and with a mighty burst of strength, they drove the Qiraj on the defensive. Each passing day saw the insectoids driven further back, until they once more found themselves within the lush jungle of the Crater. With such a victory, they witnessed the enemy retreat beyond the pass, to Valor's Rest.
They took a day of rest, while the dragons scouted Silithus from the air. She took the opportunity to find her drake. The constant fighting and movement had ensured they were kept apart since they had left the Caverns. The bulk of fur that was his current guise was easily spotted, as she wove her way between masses of exhausted soldiers. Finding him had been rather easy, as she asked down the line for news of a tauren. Now, she did not even garner a second look from the night elves. News of her invitation to rest with the dragons had spread, and she was often taken at face value as a magically constrained drake.
The true drake of the pair appeared downtrodden, as she expected from the bond. He stood in silence, beneath one of the smaller trees, gazing blankly at Fireplume Ridge. At her approach, he let out a quiet, distressed whimper. "Does it ever get easy?"
Pressing close to his side in an uncharacteristic display of comfort, she caressed a hand down his back. "No." Her ear twitched as she considered her words carefully. "The only thing you can do, is continue with the understanding that the dead wouldn't begrudge the survivors."
In honest, she felt nothing, when watching night elves or, the very rare, dragon succumb to the slaughter. There was a detachment whenever the fighting began, which ensured her indifference, beyond caring after her own fate. The dividing factor of the situation was that Bal's race was now involved in the struggle. That he knew them by blood, if not name, ensured his sensitivity whenever one fell. If telling him what he wanted to hear helped him survive, she would lie to him through her teeth until the day she died.
The next day saw them through the pass. Lines and rows marched in tandem, as dragons of bronze, red, green, and blue (Only one black spec stood out among them) soared overhead. They met resistance almost immediately, but the droves of silithid and Qiraji were easily pushed back by the united front they now presented. Grim determination drove them onward, fighting and herding the opposing army back across the desert from which they came. Each passing day saw victory, but it was bitter in their minds. The enemy was to be contained, rather than defeated. Yet, they pressed on.
Encroaching on the temple city of Ahn'Qiraj met the fiercest resistance yet, as silithid and Qiraji gathered in force to repel them. Here the insects had no fear of defeat, as soldiers poured out like a rushing tide to meet them head on. In her haze of battle lust she fought as one possessed, leaving no energy reserve untapped as she culled the first wave with a well placed inferno. Dragons breathed down upon the rushing mass, however were soon locked in their own struggle for survival, as swarmguard and flying silithid joined the attack.
Everywhere she looked was chaos, and she relished the adrenalin as it added to her power. Fire rained from the sky, catching enemies alight as the fel missiles pelted ground and fliers alike. Those foolish enough to attempt melee combat with her received similar treatment, as the area around her exploded in hellfire. When her head swam and attentions wavered from depleted magical stores, she ruthlessly sliced into her own arms with a dagger, sacrificing her life for energy. The Qiraji prophets soon began targeting her, but the press of the druids and priests kept their attentions divided. Any opportunity presented saw shadow lances spearing into their eyes. The elves soon caught on, directing archers to dispatch the spellweavers.
Despite the small victories, for each insect killed, twenty replaced them. It seemed the forces of Ahn'Qiraj were innumerable, and they soon had all they could simply to maintain rank. The dragons were lagging as well, and soon the defenders were forced to break formation as one of the great beings fell. In a rush of bronze, the mighty drake crashed into the ground with deadly force, sending a shockwave of sand and debris onto allies.
Momentarily blind, she stumbled as a deafening roar of agony sounded. Swiping sand from her eyes, she glanced up in time to witness a mass of black, gold, and red scales rush overhead in a blur. Another, louder, cry of sorrow arose from the majestic calico, filling her with dread, and causing even the surrounding Qiraji to pause. As Kal hunched over the larger form of his slain mate, she saw his frame shudder, before all at once he leaped into the air, loosing a bellowing howl of rage that caused her heart to flutter in terror.
He barreled headfirst into a group of constructs, showing a viciousness the likes of which she had never witnessed before, as he decimated the Qiraji with abandon, blind in his gut-wrenching grief. Showing the truth of his heritage, he seemed to go mad in his fury, unflinching as some spells pierced his hide. He slaughtered anyone who entered his path, be they night elf or silithid.
A searing pain across her arm knocked her from her stupor, causing her to loose her own roar of anger as she dispatched the offending battle-tank. Her heart ached oddly for Kal's loss, lending more fuel to her spells, and allowing her to ignore the discomfort of her wounds. The fight seemed to drag on for hours in a blur of violence and bloodshed. The never ending stream of Qiraji reinforcements would soon cripple their efforts if the plan was not put into motion. As if in response to the thought, Anachronos landed behind the line. Not daring to hope, she spared a glance up and witnessed three drakes detach, flying unflinchingly into the city.
The sudden move caused a halt in the flow of soldiers, as they were overtaken within their own stronghold. The opportunity afforded, they tightened rank around the entourage of druids and priestesses, grim in their purpose as the Qiraji were swiftly slaughtered between Kal's frenzied massacre and the renewed efforts of the elves. Almost at once the effects were apparent, as the earth itself revolted against the unnatural insects. A wall of stone and vine rose around the perimeter of the city, and even the winged silithid found it impossible to fly beyond.
The change of tides bolstered moral, and they made quick work of dispatching the remaining enemies. Several drakes immediately converged on the rampaging chromatic, attempting to subdue him for the safety of them all. Collapsing in a trembling heap as adrenalin leeched away, she watched from a great distance as they were forced to fight him to the ground. Six in all were required to pin and magically bind his claws. Pressure built behind her eyes, but ruthlessly she shoved the emotion away, wrapping herself in a numb cocoon of indifference. A quick check of her bond provided the relief that Bal was well, if in severe distress, as he no doubt witnessed the same.
Standing was impossible, once her instincts calmed, and her muscles turned to jelly. A quick check yielded the understanding that she was experiencing complete magic exhaustion, in addition to her physical wounds. Several gashes bled out sluggishly along her arms, and nearly every inch of skin was littered with bruises. While she had ceased cutting herself after the Qiraji did the honors, she had cut deep enough in her battle haze to keep the self-inflicted wounds open. She was frankly shocked that she had not bled out.
Frame shivering uncontrollably in the aftermath, she stayed as she was, using scraps of her shirt to keep pressure on the worst of the bleeding wounds. Disbelieving night elves wandered the field, dealing killing blows to crippled Qiraji, and gathering their own wounded, none quite believing that the battle was over at last. Several passed her by with looks of concern, but she waved them off. Her gaze was focused solely on Kal, hawkish in her careful calm, to ensure he was not harmed for his actions. Though fighting tooth and nail against the bindings, he seemed to give up as more drakes landed nearby.
Unsure if he was knocked unconscious, or merely lost to despair, some coiled tension in her belly eased as the gathered dragons seemed to hold council, before two bronze broke away. They gently arranged him to his side, before gripping his bound limbs in powerful talons. They took flight with him carefully suspended between them, winging swiftly over the sands towards Un'goro and Tanaris. They would not treat him so, if they intended him harm. Letting out a shuddered breath, she rested her forehead against a knee briefly, before approaching footsteps startled her.
Bal trotted forward hesitantly, before picking up pace at glimpsing her bloodstained appearance. He turned to bellow for a healer, before turning to embrace her carefully. Though wounded himself, he had escaped in far better condition, preferring to fight from a distance with his faux shamanism. Ensconced in his furry arms, she allowed herself to relax that much more, as the full weight of realization settled in. The battle was over. They could go home, as soon as Anachronos or one of the drakes was available. Tears were forcefully crushed down at thoughts of seeing her lover again, after so many months. The void in her soul, where a second drake bond should be, also ached.
Bal refused to move, until a priestess approached. Listening in a stupor of bone-deep weariness, she could not prevent a nose crinkle as the sister invoked Elune to heal her wounds. Very much doubting that their goddess would want anything to do with healing a reviled blood elf, she was therefor shocked when the pain slowly began to melt away. Glancing to her arms, she watched with detached fascination as the wounds appeared to shrink slowly, before disappearing altogether. Only faint trace-works of scarring remained, and she knew from experience that those would fade with time.
The priestess rushed away after uttering a couple more words of blessing, seeking the next among those requiring healing. Weaving in an out of consciousness, she registered being picked up by strong arms. Tensing, a brush of golden fur against her cheek calmed her, and the gentle sway of his movement lulled her into darkness.
Her first instinct was to tense sharply at the unfamiliar feel of her location, as sleep hazed thoughts scrambled. The movement prompted a muffled curse as her overtaxed muscles screamed at the rude awakening. Wrenching her eyes open, she squinted up at the high-curved ceiling overhead, befuddled, as her last memories were of Silithus. Finding the will to turn her head, she blinked at the night elven architecture of the room. Had they taken shelter in the ruins of Southwind? The notion made her frown, but there was no scent of decay to support the assumption.
A quiet snore from the floor made her blink. Loath to move, she never the less forced her arms to work, propping herself up to peer over the edge. Bal slept peacefully in a large nest of blankets to match his bulk. A mangled pillow gave testament to his sound slumber, where it rested neatly gored on one of his horns. The sight prompted a faint smile from her normally pursed or smirking lips.
As if summoned by her movement, a quiet knock sounded from the door. The sudden noise made her jump, smile slipping away to a suspicious frown. After a second, logic caught up to her, and she quietly called for them to enter. The noise made the drake startle slightly, half sitting up before his mind seemed to register her presence, and their location. Before any words could be exchanged, the door opened to admit the innkeeper of the Tavern of Time. He spared them a slight smile, before stepping aside to allow someone entrance.
Andormu greeted them, looking distinctly exhausted in his own right, despite not having participated in the battle. Ignoring their curious stares, he cut directly to the chase.
"I'm here to send you back to your time. You're sufficiently rested for the travel, and the timeway is now stable. I must caution: Months have passed, by your reckoning. However you will be sent back to the same day of your departure... I would normally offer to strike this excursion from your minds, but we have too small a window of opportunity before the way is lost."
Before either could respond, they felt a great pressure sweep through their bodies, drawing silent cries of shock. A kaleidoscope of color and sensation burned through their very beings, before abruptly, everything stilled. Reeling, muscles gave out and landed her firmly on her back, quiet noise of pained joy forcing its way past tightly clenched teeth, as various bonds suddenly flooded her senses, reopening after months of inactivity. Almost before she could recover, a loud cry of shock reached her ears, before she was swept up in a bone crushing hug.
Squirming against the embrace, she finally relented, returning the red drake's hug with equal ferocity. Almost unable to believe it, the crushing weight of finally being home ate away at her shields, allowing a couple tears of pure relief to escape as the now (rightfully) orcish Bal joined them.