The darkness slowly faded from her sight and things started to come into focus. The young, pale figure took in her immediate surroundings, curiosity etched upon her face. It appeared that she was in a bedroom, one made of – wood? Most of the furniture, even the walls, consisted of the raw material, save for the area rug, which appeared to be an animal skin of some sort.

She gazed down at herself and saw that the blanket appeared to be homemade as well; rough woolen patches were stuffed with feathers and patched together in a dull coloring. And the girl, she was laying within a strange bed. Wind filtered through an open window, which sounded some wind chimes, and caused her to jump at the sound. Where the hell was she? How did she get here?

Before she was even able to sit up, there was a noise on the other side of the bedroom door, one of footsteps and humming. The girl gripped at the edges of the crude blanket as her eyes were fixed upon that wooden door. Her heart raced and her breath caught in her throat as she listened to the sounds get louder, as though approaching the door with a purpose.

Eventually, the sounds of the footsteps stopped, but the humming did not. She was able to tell that whoever was on the other side of that door was waiting for something, and it was very close, if not right at the other side of the bedroom.

The door opened slowly, creaking against the hinges. Fear overwhelmed the girl and she closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. Maybe it wouldn't bother her if it thought she was resting still?

A dark face, illuminated by golden eyes peeked into the bedroom. "Still sleeping," came out in a deep masculine voice. The night elf druid stepped into the bedroom, a wooden bowl of some sort of soup within his hand. He made his way to her bedside and gazed down at the girl. She was so strange, elven, but not. The curiosity of it all continued to pique his interest. How did she end up on the shore of Azshara? Where did she come from?

Eventually, he moved away and placed the bowl atop a nearby wooden table before he made his way to a crudely fashioned dresser, looking for something, a certain fabric or article of clothing – he wasn't too sure what it was.

The girl, thinking the coast was clear, slowly opened her eyes and gazed around the room. One side of it was clear, yet the other – there stood a tall and dark figure. He must have been no taller than six feet. Light blue hair, the color of the sky on a clear day, was fastened in a tight and high ponytail, yet still came down to his shoulders, and his ears were long, longer than hers.

The night elf turned, and the rest of his features appeared clearly. There was a bearded goatee, and his eyes were golden and bright.

"Kal'dorei!" She gasped, instinctively taking to gripping at the edge of the blanket again.

The elf blinked his eyes and lowered his elongated brow. At least she knew what he was, but what about her? He gazed down at her curiously. "Yes, I am… What abo-"

There was a sudden loss for words as he continued to look at her, and her eyes were noted. They were strangely colored, bright with a mixture of pink and blue energy. The longer he stared at those hues, the more lost he became within them. There was a depth to them, one that he had never seen with any others before – almost as though the colors were coalescing in a swirling sort.

Finally, the elf pulled himself to look away from her eyes. "What about you? What are you?"

Unfortunately, he was speaking in a Darnassian tongue, and aside from a few words – such as Kal'Dorei. Everything that he had just said came out as a jumbled mass of sounds that she could not understand. The girl arched an eyebrow curiously as she looked up at him, yet there was still an underlying fear within her.

He tried again. This time, the elf pointed to his chest and stated in a clear manner, "Kal'dorei. Tiradis." He then pointed towards her, indicating for her to speak next.

She hesitated. He was one of the people that cast her ancestors out, dismissed them as garbage, and sent them off on the sea, not caring if her people died or not. How did he not kill her on sight?

Her family told her stories that were brought down from one generation to another. Stories of the Well, the demons, the outcasting, and the painful addiction that gripped in their blood. Even now, she was starting to feel her grip loosen on her control – she would need to meditate soon.

"You are?" Tiradis asked in his native tongue, snapping the girl out of her reverie.

In a small and meek sounding voice, she uttered from behind the protection of the blanket. "Quel'dorei… Tircassia…"

"Quel'dorei?" High elf, Tiradis had never heard of one before. There were other elves out there in the world? It would explain her elven appearance. She was so young though and must have been no older than ten years of age. To his people, much longer since they were immortal, having elongated life spans and growth spurts, "How did you get here?"

Again, she blinked at him, clearly not understanding what he had just asked.

"Nevermind," Tiradis offered with a smile. He glanced down, down at the small fabric of clothing within his hands. "It isn't much, but it's better than what you're wearing now. " Her dress was tattered and torn in some areas and was considerably damp from the ocean water a few hours earlier. The night elf placed the set of linen shirt and pants on the bed near her feet.

"There's food and drink downstairs if you want."

Tircassia peeked up at the other being questioningly. Seeing the look upon her face, Tiradis repeated himself, making gestures with his hands this time to help her understand what he was talking about, and the child nodded quietly.

The druid gazed upon his guest for a moment longer, curiosity still visible upon his features, before he decided to leave her be, closing the door behind him to offer her privacy.

The small high elf watched that door as it closed, bright blue and pink eyes gazing cautiously at it until she heard silence and Tiradis' footfalls slowly fade out from her range of hearing.

She then glanced over to the new set of clothes he had offered her. She was still alive, but was it a trap? Where was her family? The questions continued to rise within the girl as she stared off at the cloth items on the bed before her. It caused her grip to tighten along the edge of that blanket for a moment…

… Eventually though, she relented and cast her fears aside, reaching out to take the offered garments and put them on. Whatever was going to happen now, the young high elf was in the hands of a complete stranger, a night elf.