Denial
Chapter 4: Jailbirds
There were times when Shahra wondered why she even bothered to wake up in the morning, why she even bothered to get out of bed an extra hour early for meditation. Why bother to enter the waking world when the denizens looked upon you with distrust at best or with disgust and hostility at worst? Not emerging into such a world may not do any favours to an elf's physical fitness but at least it prevented one's sense of self esteem from being bombarded.
Still, through both willpower and pragmatism, Shahra had always managed to emerge into the world upon the sun's herald, ready to begin the required daily hour of meditation that every high elf had to go through to keep his or her thirst for magic under control, the alternatives being either falling into a raging madness or following the path of their kin and relying on demonic magic to slake their thirst, thus allowing themselves to embrace magic freely, yet at the cost of their own being.
Dawn had always struck Shahra as the best time to prevent this from happening; meditating under the rising sun had a certain appeal, not to mention that it ensured that she had the rest of the day to herself. True, a sun god had never really made its way into quel'dorei religion, but their society had certainly paid homage to the fiery orb and whatever higher being that may be associated with it. Upon reflection, many historians theorized that worship of the sun was simply one of many methods used by the banished Highborne to distance themselves from the ways of night elf society; abandoning homage to the moon goddess Elune to worship her daytime counterpart.
Still, Shahra liked to think that there was indeed a sun deity that would look down upon her as she meditated under its light, as Azeroth turned on its axis to meet his gaze. Doing so also seemed to be an ideal method of preserving the elements of high elf society, given that history and culture were also casualties to the storm of undeath that had engulfed Quel'Thalas.
Did the blood elves still pay homage to the sun? Probably not; they'd turned their backs on half of what high elven society had stood for and the corrupted the values of the other.
Sunlight and meditation had been two luxuries that had been denied to Shahra for the past week. Her original cell lacked a window, and felt infused with abundant arcane energy. She could have never meditated in those circumstances; every attempt to do so had been proven a lost cause, the magic bombarding her senses and therefore preventing the required state of mind to cleanse one's soul from the ravages of arcane addiction.
As far as meditation was concerned, Shahra wasn't sure whether to consider her present circumstances better or worse. True, there was still no window, but at least the cell seemed less infused with free magic, thus making it easier to shut her mind off from the world. On the other, she had her hands bound and a male human was less than a foot away from her. Such circumstances didn't make meditation easy.
There was also the fact that Shahra had a strange, bitter taste in her mouth. She tried swallowing a few times along with licking the interior of her mouth but it just wouldn't go away. It was simply…there, and whatever was the cause, it certainly wouldn't do any favours for her concentration.
Instinctively, and without really thinking, the elf tried tugging her bound hands away from the small metal pole, hoping beyond hope that perhaps it would come out of the marble ground. The human looked on with amusement, as to how pointless Shahra's attempts were and that the elf seemed to be oblivious to that fact.
"You keep tugging away with that chain dearie, I'm sure the pole will eventually come loose," he said snidely, grinning at the display of desperation and/or stupidity.
Gritting her teeth, Shahra gave one last massive tug, the only result being chafing her wrists and falling back upon the spine of the human next to her. Sighing, she came to the not so astounding conclusion that the pole wasn't going to move, not with her strength at least.
"What's the matter? Giving up?" The human was seemingly determined to chide her into continuing what he considered a source of amusement. Shahra closed her eyes; perhaps it would be best to deal with the problem that the human represented first. She was fluent in Common so meditating in the presence of such a being, considering the opposing genders, would be next to impossible, even without the chain binding her wrists.
Of course, getting the man to shut up would be no easy task, and Shahra knew it. It was indeed testimony to the dire straits of the true children of Quel'Thalas that, despite the regular bouts of racism from overzealous individuals or those with simple distrust and prejudice, humanity was still the most welcoming of the Alliance races, due mainly to the friendship established between the two races after the Troll Wars.
Such a friendship had ultimately resulted in a willingness of humanity to give shelter to their elven friends, namely in the cities of Stormwind and Theramore. Unfortunately, the perception of their allies seemed to be steadily worsening, no doubt prompted by the entry of the blood elves into the horde and whatever lies and exaggerated truths the night elves, some new friends that were seemingly to replace the old, were spinning. Human, dwarf and gnome alike seemed ready to believe them. Heck, even the Wildhammer Dwarves, formerly staunch allies of the high elves, seemed reluctant to barter with them.
So, in Shahra's mind, a human as a cell mate was merely the best possible possibility of a distrustful group. Still, she knew that the circumstances could have been worse. She might have had a night elf as a cellmate, who at best would probably go preaching on about their damn moon goddess or at worst start condemning her for the actions of her ancestors, seemingly ignoring the fact that high elves were descended from the Highborne who had ultimately sided against the Burning Legion.
"Come on, it isn't so tough," the man continued, seemingly disappointed that Shahra was no longer amusing him with a display of futility. "Keep tugging, I'm sure you'll get free eventually."
"Oh shut up," Shahra snapped, deciding that being direct and simple was the best method of getting the lout to be silent. It was of course an invitation for the stereotypical "feisty" comment that drunken humans made when she rejected their advances, but she doubted that alcohol was available to the human in her presence at this point in time.
"Ohh, feisty," said the man, causing Shahra to groan inwardly. "Still, it's better than giving into despair. You'd do well to keep up that attitude."
Shahra raised an eyebrow; she'd left an opening that almost all men took advantage of, yet the male human facing opposite to her was heading in the opposite direction.
Cranning her neck around, she saw that the man had been doing the same. A white tunic and brown trousers with large travelling boots covered a muscular body. He was almost ursine in appearance, with a short black beard giving further weight to the visual impression, along with raising the possibility that he was an overgrown dwarf. Given the short lifespan of humans, Shahra was able to gauge his age, placing him in his late thirties or early forties. What she truly noticed however, was his grey eyes; they belonged to an individual who had either seen too much or, perhaps due to the first reason, had reached a stage where he no longer cared what he saw.
He had obviously been studying Shahra too; "So," he said slowly. "How'd you fall out with your kin?"
"Pardon?"
"How'd you come to be in this cell? I haven't heard of any blood elves who-…"
"Blood elf!?" Shahra exploded. She leaned as close to the man as possible; "Are you insane!? How could you possibly think that I'm a sin'dorei!?"
"Quite simply really," said the man bluntly. "Golden hair, donkey ears, not to mention-…"
"Look at my eyes," Shahra interrupted. She could appreciate that such a demand could be taken as a display of vanity but she'd be damned if yet another human existed in this universe with a false impression of her kind, ignorant of how there was indeed a difference between the quel'dorei and sin'dorei, one that, despite the obstacles and temptations, the former attempted to maintain.
The man looked at Shahra's eyes, seeing the fiery sky blue light that emanated from them, radically different from the acid green of a blood elf's eyes. He seemed taken aback for a moment, but the reaction quickly evaporated; "Oh I see," the man said slowly. "You're merely one of those who's yet to give in to the inevitable."
"Inevitable? I beg to differ," said Shahra, full of conviction. "I'd die before I followed the path of my kin."
"I've heard others say that," murmured the man darkly, causing Shahra to raise an eyebrow. Some hint at past events perhaps? It was impossible to tell, as the change of tone quickly reverted back to his earlier disposition. Still, curiosity, while holding danger for felines, was a virtue that Shahra embraced.
"Who are you?" she asked. "When were you imprisoned?"
The man gave the question thought, seemingly debating as to whether he wanted to maintain conversation. "My name's Leonard Ragoa," he said eventually. "Most just call me Leo though."
"Gladly," said Shahra simply, smiling faintly. Honestly, what was it with humans possessing last names that simply didn't mean anything? The only ones who possessed such a thing had adopted pseudonyms, such as Uther Lightbringer or Danath Trollbane.
"What about you?" asked Leo, obviously referring to the name of his cellmate.
"Dreamsinger," said Shahra eventually, deciding that giving out her name posed no real risk. "Shahra Dreamsinger."
Leo snorted; "Sounded rather off key to me."
"What?"
Leo smiled faintly; "You were brought into this cell a few hours ago. You seemed to be asleep but you wouldn't stop mumbling. Almost drove me nuts."
"I…see," said Shahra slowly, realising that whatever she'd been uttering had probably been related to that unpleasant reminder of past events that shed' experienced. Hopefully her fellow jailbird wouldn't press the matter-it wasn't a subject she was inclined to discuss.
"Still, can't say it was all bad," continued Leo. About the only company I've had for a week, or at least that of a blood elf who-…"
"High elf!" shouted Shahra, correcting Leo's error. Intentional or not, she wasn't going to put up with such misinterpretation."
"Whatever," grunted Leo, glaring at Shahra, despising her for the lies she was uttering. Still, she wasn't backing down and he could see it;
"Fine, if you really are a so called 'high elf', why are you in Outland?" he snarled. "Why leave the safety of the Alliance? To seek shelter with your brethren perhaps? Or, is there perhaps a deeper and darker reason?"
"I could ask you the same question," responded Shahra warily, not liking where the conversation was headed. It reminded her of the trip from Nethergarde, when she'd encountered the same suspicions. "What's a human doing in Outland?"
"I asked first."
Shahra's resolve weakened; the question as to why she came to Outland was to be expected, she was fully aware of that. It had prompted suspicion at Nethergarde and with the soldiers assigned to escort her. But could anyone understand her motives, understand why she'd made a journey to a dead world? Probably not, and she felt no reason to divulge her reasons to a person who was at best snide and at worst a bias, suspicious bastard. And even if she did fully explain her reasons, she doubted whether that would win the man's trust.
"Curiosity," said Shahra eventually. A half truth as it was.
Leo snorted; "That's the best story you can come up with?"
"I don't see you providing any back-story."
"Of course not," said Leo, his eyes narrowing. "Why would I put my trust in you when you can't even make up a story that makes me inclined to do so?"
Thoughts of meditation had fully evaporated from Shahra's mind by this point; all she cared about right now was pointing out a few facts, namely that she was an individual who could be trusted and that there was indeed a difference between the survivors of the holocaust that had been unleashed upon Quel'Thalas. A microcosm of the high elven situation as it was, one that she was determined to follow through.
"You wouldn't understand," said Shahra contemptuously. "But I'm sure even you can see the ravages of our common enemy."
"Huh?"
"I was down in a dungeon for a week," continued Shahra. "I bear the scars, and you can see it."
Like the journey to Nethergarde, Tartarus's physical assault was hardly a pleasant memory and bringing it up was ultimately putting forward the trump card that was pity. It hardly did any favours to the elf's sense of pride, but she was willing to bear with it if she could make at least one human, or any member of the Alliance for that matter, see the truth, that high elves were individuals that they could trust.
The human however, refused to see it; "I see nothing," he said simply.
"Pardon?" asked Shahra. "Can't you see the bruises?"
"All I see is an exceptionally pale face, but considering that you're a stuck up elf, that's to be expected," snarled Leo. "Now either amuse me with some new bullshit or shut up."
Leo's irritation was clearly showing, or at least he hoped it was; he'd awakened a few hours ago to find that he had a cellmate, which had initially boded well. He'd finally have someone to talk to that didn't insist on looking down on him as a lower form of creation. Heck, even the elf's grey tunic and ponytail, stereotypical as they were, were a pleasant reminder of his race's own attire. However, it was obviously too much to hope for, as it was now obvious that he was stuck with a lying, melodramatic bitch that, to top it off, was probably a traitor to her own kind that tried to deny a few facts about her existence and replace them with falsehoods.
Shahra had chosen the second option that Leo gave her, mainly because she was deep in thought. He'd said that he'd seen nothing, absolutely no evidence of physical assault. Yet, according to him at least, she'd only been here a few hours; no creature apart from a troll could heal so quickly.
That he was lying was a possibility, but, at least in the statements about her appearance and the time she'd been with him, the man appeared genuine. Yet if that was indeed the case, how had she healed so quickly?
"Did the events down there even happen at all?" Shahra wondered. She assumed that they did so; the memory of a fel orc pummelling her was too vivid to be falsehood. It was of course possible that she'd been healed after the encounter, but why would Kael'thas authorise such treatment when not only was she a prisoner, but in his eyes, a filthy traitor? What would prompt such generosity? Why was there no sign of bruising, the only indication of something physically wrong being that strange, bitter taste in her mouth that refused to go away?
"You said that you were in cells below?" Leo asked suddenly.
Shahra glared at him; "I thought you weren't talking to me.
"I said I wasn't going to put up with bullshit. I'm giving you a second chance."
Shahra sighed mentally, guessing that the truth was going to be interpreted as a lie, but simply couldn't be bothered to make up a genuine lie that might be interpreted as truth; "Yes, I was in a cell below," she said eventually. "About a week."
"I see," said Leo, seemingly believing her on both counts. "We must have been captured around the same time."
"What?"
"I've been here a week too," he said. "Can't say the company's that great, but it makes a change."
Shahra wasn't sure whether to take Leo's words as a compliment or insult, but didn't dwell on the matter. Instead, she pondered on his original statement, that he'd been captured around the same time. "Could the timing be related perhaps?" she wondered. "Probably not. I don't see what kind of possible link there could be." Although a dull prospect, Shahra had accepted that coincidence did indeed exist in the universe.
"It's as I thought…" Leo mused softly to himself.
"Pardon?" asked Shahra, her sharp hearing picking up his words.
"The Sunstrider prince has added a level of dungeons to the lower levels of the keep," said Leo, turning to meet Shahra's gaze. "No doubt for any excess prisoners his forces capture. Can't say the naaru are going to very happy."
"The what?" Shahra asked, having never heard of a 'nah-roo' before.
"Or the draenei for that matter," Leo continued, ignoring the elf's query.
"What the hell is a-…"
"Ardelan's going to be-…"
"Alright, slow down!" yelled Shahra. She knew that shouting could incur the human's beratement, but she felt that she was making progress in acquiring his trust, something that rarely worked amongst others of his kind. It seemed safe to pursue truth; "you're not making sense."
"I'm not?" asked Leo, clearly surprised. Either the traitor had suddenly become a good liar or she was woefully ignorant of her lord's manners.
"For starters, you said that Kael created a section of dungeons on the lower levels of this keep. Yet if that's the case, why keep you in a separate cell? How'd you come to receive special treatment?"
Leo shrugged; "Hell if I know. Still, it's not that surprising really, that the prince would throw a traitor to both his kind and the Alliance into darker…" He trailed off, seeing that the elf was seemingly on the verge of tears. "Something wrong?" he asked.
Shahra didn't answer immediately, too disgusted with her cellmate to do so. The man was obviously a sadistic sociopath, leading her on into thinking that she could obtain the trust of another species, thus brightening the prospects of her own race. Yet in the end, he turned out to be a two faced manipulator, sending her sense of hope down in flames for his own warped gratification.
"Five years," said Shahra softly, the tears streaming down. "We've been in the care of the Alliance for five years, and you've still yet to place any trust in my people!"
"Um…" Leo trailed off, the elf's reaction having caught him off guard.
"Yes, perhaps we signed our own death warrant when we withdrew from the Alliance!" Shahra continued, her frustration pouring forth like water from a breached dam, letting out what she and the rest of her kind wanted the Alliance to see, knowing that the Horde, especially with the blood elves in its ranks, would never offer shelter. "Yes, perhaps we wrongly relied on humanity to fight the Second War for us! Yes, perhaps the destruction of Quel'Thalas was a form of justice! Yes, I understand that regarding us with suspicion is perhaps natural! Yet five years have passed since that dark day and we've still to regain any trust that you once regarded us with! By the Light, we're still waiting for a chance for you to do so!" It was all too much for Shahra as she finally gave in to the frustration and simply let literal water pour from her eyes.
"If a chance for redemption is what you want," said Leo eventually, talking slowly and deliberately, "then I can arrange that."
Shahra looked up in puzzlement; "Pardon?"
"Am I correct in assuming that equal recognition is what you want, as much as to escape from this keep?"
"Yes, of course," said Shahra, feeling that treacherous emotion that was hope sliding back into her, yet still welcoming the feeling. "But why are you asking me this?"
Leo smiled faintly as he leant as close to Shahra as possible; "I plan to escape from Tempest Keep in the near future. And you, donkey ears, are going to help me."
XXXX
I'm probably going to get flamed for all the melodrama that I've heaped into this chapter, but 'angst' isn't a chosen category for nothing.
It's probably a piece of forgotten lore, but it seems odd to me how the role of the sun is seemingly ignored in Warcraft, as to whether there's any sun god. It's stated that high elves "embraced sun worship", not to mention that in 'The Well of Eternity', it's mentioned that one of the night elf legends concerning Cenarius's origin was that he was the offspring of the sun and moon.
Ultimately false of course, but it still got me wondering, hence a bit of 'narrative theorisation' on the nature of high elven sun worship.