After having ridden all night from Gadgetzan to New Taurajo via Freewind Post, the quartet stopped only for a four hour nap inside a rent-a-tepee before flying the rest of that day to Ratchet via the Crossroads. Eyes salty, thighs aching and backs hurting, they all came to land at the flight point at the main western gates of the city to avoid detection. The moon had just started to rise and the coyotes were calling out as they checked in their wyverns, but they only had a precious few minutes to stretch before they could return home. Since none of them actually knew what sort of story Valmar had concocted for their parents, they had to sneak through the city undetected and reach his small home behind the library before they could show their faces.
Getting there was easy enough, and the deadman happened to be watering his petunias as they rounded the corner on his busy, narrow but well kept street in one of the more upscale neighborhoods in the city. Waiting patiently until they were at his doorstep, he put the water pot away and whisked them all inside silently, waiting for them to collapse on his couches in the one room home with a loft (since he was undead, he needed neither a bed nor a toilet).
Once they'd finished panting and thanking him profusely for covering their trail, Irien took the lead. "So what's the cover story?" she asked while popping a joint in her neck.
"You all accepted a kill quest in Stonetalon for a swarm of corrupted squirrels but were quickly overwhelmed and spent a week hiding in a lake with nothing but water chestnuts for sustenance."
For a moment, the whole group sat quietly while they considered what he'd said. Then they all laughed, assuming it was a joke. Then they all cringed, realizing that he was being serious.
"What...the...f-"
"There actually are corrupted squirrels in Stonetalon right now and a number of adventuring parties were chased out of there. It fits in perfectly with the news your parents have heard at social gatherings and will cover your trail completely. It's the best option you have."
Sharimara almost stood up, but Irien quickly silenced her by raising her hand. "If that's what you deem the most effective at covering our trail, then that's the story we'll all stick to. Right, guys?" She leaned a little closer to her goddaughter when the warden just folded her arms and pouted like a gigantic, Amazonian child. "Right?"
"Alright, alright."
"Good. Now that we have that sorted out, we need to figure out how we'll get to the Port of Winterspring."
Much more animated than almost any other undead, Valmar crooked his entire head to the side to face Irien, rattling his tin mask in the process. "Winterspring? I assumed you'd already found the girl and reconciled with her mother!"
"It's a long...long...long story, but the short version is that Astra moved to Tanaris to work as a cook and the restaurant got shut down, so she and a bunch of her colleagues switched over to the Port of Winterspring," Sharimara spat out in one breath.
"Oh my...that really is quite a bit of moving for such a young girl," Valmar murmured, showing a great deal of concern over Zelda despite having no relation. "Have you at least written to her mother in advance, to let her know that you'd like to visit?"
"We don't have an address or a place of work; we just know that the workers split up across three separate restaurants and that they left an entire two and a half months ago," Irien explained in exasperation as if she'd already done so too many times.
When Valmar looked down in disappointment, Sharimara jumped in, good intentioned as always. "Don't worry, Zorena reroute the account you use to support Zelda through the Sisterhood of Elune. So no matter where you send your money, it will reach her. Thanks for doing that, by the way," she said matter-of-factly as if it were a minor detail.
Everybody looked a bit embarrassed, especially Navarion and Valmar, and the Forsaken just rubbed the back of his leather clad neck for a moment. "Ah...you're welcome, regarding that matter," he mumbled.
"Aaaanyway, we need to figure out what to do for now. We can rest up for a few days and relax since we know where they are, but soon enough we'll need to get going. I don't think it would be prudent to tell Cici and Khuj until we've already spoken to Astra and gauged how she'll react to the family's request to see Zelda; there's no point in getting their hopes up before we even know Zelda's living situation." Everyone nodded in agreement to Irien's statement, listening closely as the businesswoman tried to organize their action plan out loud. "So we need to spend some time here and then find another reason to leave, and the demonic squirrel army won't cut it a second time."
"About that trip, Lady Rainsong," Valmar said in a cautious voice. "I don't think you should go on the next trip."
Almost a bit offended, Irien remained calm aside from the slight droop to her ears. "Whatever for?"
"You've been a constant fixture of the Hearthglen household for as long as it's been a household. In more than four decades, you've left Ratchet for even less collective time than Cecilia and Khujand themselves. The two week foray into Stonetalon - as far as they know - is minor. Another trip for possibly another two weeks so soon after this one may cause them to ask questions. Answering those questions before we even know the living situation of Astariel and how she will react to Navarion's desire to be a part of his daughter's life may not be the most prudent course of action."
"He's right, auntie. Valmar, you should come next time, and Del should stay too," Sharimara quipped.
"Wait, what?" the deadman asked first.
"Shari, what are you talking about?" Irien asked second.
"Can I just skip this little meeting and go home and eat if I don't need to go along for the next trip?" Tiondel asked third.
Despite her flippant comment, Sharimara began to explain her reasoning surprisingly well. "Irien has always been at home but so has one of us, all the time; mom and dad always need at least one of us at home to smother. All they've had is Venjai and as much as they love being grandma and grandpa, they'll start to wonder eventually."
"Actually, Anathil and Tan'jin arrived home almost a week ago, but your point still stands," Valmar added.
"We definitely aren't going to let them know, either...but in that case, leaving one of the siblings back here to cover our behinds would help me out a bit," Irien conceded despite her obvious desire to come along and see Zelda. "But why Del and not you?"
"Del still works at the alchemy shop on and off. Dad will watch him like a hawk since he's back and probably be in him every day not to spend too much time out of work. My work is nothing but quests, like Navarion, so even if we only stay a few days, mom and dad will accept it," Sharimara continued. "And you can cover for Valmar since he won't be around town, at least not at the same time as them, as far as they know. Since he's been helping to pay for the costs of Zelda's education, Astariel likely won't react to him in hostility like she might to Navarion." Her tone was casual and her words were logical, but that didn't stop Navarion's ears from drooping even lower than Irien's and he wished he could have turned invisible.
It only took everyone a second of thinking before the plan was accepted. "Alright...I really wanted to come along, but I understand what you're saying. How long should you wait before leaving?"
"Give it at least a week," Valmar suggested. "That will allow plenty of time for things to return to normal at your home, as well as give us time to formulate a cover for your leaving."
"Can we please go eat now? We've been riding for days and just grabbed some jerky back at Taurajo," Tiondel asked.
"Of course, filling your stomach is certainly more important than finding our niece," Sharimara shot back at him.
"Knock it off, we're all going to eat now!" Irien rose as did the others, though she turned to face Valmar before walking out. "You have no idea how much you've helped the family. I'll make sure your covered while in Winterspring."
"It was nothing, Lady Rainsong; yourself, Cecilia and Khujand are the reason I found my way to this community in the first place. I could not, in good conscience, leave one of the family's grandchildren to live without support, even if the mother preferred to keep her life separate from yours."
Pausing and sighing before she walked out the door, Irien's ears drooped again. "I understand...I just hope that this woman understands when we find her and ask to see her daughter."
Days passed at home as usual. As Navarion had expected, his parents really had missed them more than a usual family despite the separation having only been for two weeks. As if he didn't need any more pangs of guilt, they constantly doted on him, Sharimara and Tiondel as if they'd returned from a war and kept them busy for the first few days by asking about the trip and calling long family dinners. And lunches. And breakfasts. And even brunches. By the end of the first few days, Anathil, who had already been home for a week before they arrived, began to get jealous, ever the family's big baby despite being Navarion's age and having two children of her own.
At least Irien had managed to make a big show out of giving Anathil and her husband the taxidermed jackalope. Ever the conservative Druid, Tan'jin had balked at the sight of one of Elune's creatures gutted and stuffed but accepted the give anyway for fear of appearing rude to his wife's crazy aunt. That was certainly a meal to remember.
Once things had quieted down at home, life returned to usual in the Hearthglen household. Since he and his youngest sister would be leaving again very soon, ostensibly using another quest as an excuse, he made a point not to accept any other quests he noticed posted on the billboard near the western gate of town. It was an exercise to stroll through town every day and see all the other adventurers geared up and ready to go and simply walk away. Ever since the events of eight years ago, he'd resigned himself to questing only with family members, and only within the Barrens or, occasionally, Ashenvale. That had become nearly a weekly excursion, and holding himself back inside the confines of Ratchet was almost as difficult as holding himself back from the bars and taverns both at the marina district and the upper southern bluffs.
Truth be told, he did manage to drink twice during the first few days. Never enough to get drunk, but just enough to date the dry scratch at the back of his throat. Sobriety was maddening, and during the waiting period he found himself not only trying to distract himself from his imaginary thirst but from paranoid thoughts about what exactly would happen when they found who they were looking for.
Navarion had been a larger number of woman that he would have liked to admit. Most men bragged about the number of their conquests and even embellished their tales, but when he found himself no longer needing to embellish, it didn't feel like conquest anymore. No, it felt more like lonliness and loss, as if he'd wasted years of his life away by failing to form lasting emotional connections to women. We're he twenty years younger, he'd dismiss such thoughts and celebrate what he would have viewed as a sign of virility and manhood; past forty, however, he viewed it as a failure to build a stable life for himself and the ritualizaiton of the most beautiful form of connection into a mere bodily function. Nothing special and nothing magical, no different from blowing his nose or going to the toilet.
Many a morning, after most of his family had gone to bed, he found himself sitting at the historic Broken Keel Tavern where his parents used to go to have non-alcoholic drinks and staring into the bar long after revelers had gone home and workers had come in for early morning fare. Occasionally, he'd see women he'd dated in the past; as a general rule he tried never to get involved with women in his hometown, another part of his unstable love life, but there had been a handful. Both his parents, even his jungle troll father, encouraged the Hearthglen children to only get involved with elves due to the lifespan issues; Cecilia was so ancient that her lifespan just happened to match up with Khujand's, but as night elves who had lived before immortality slowly died of old age one by one, those situations were fewer and fewer. To get involved with the younger lived races would only invite heartbreak, his parents, told him, though watching a handful of ex-girlfriends walk in and out of the bar hurt in a different way. Mostly Darkspear with a smattering of Orc women, all of them had aged while he, as a half elf, had remained young in appearance. Mature, dignified and responsible, the majority of them were married and a few even passed by with children in tow. As if he radiated his melancholy, they all avoided his gaze as well, passing by in a sort of demonstration of how life had moved on, with or without him.
All the while, the nagging feeling wouldn't cease in the back of his mind: what had he done?
On some level, he would always care for Astariel. True, they had been together only a single night and he had been inebriated and emotionally distraught, but it was beyond that. For half of a year, they were close friends who were attracted to each other. He had tried to tell himself that were situations different and had he not been with someone else, there would have been a chance, but eventually that chance came and he panicked. She was too sweet, too innocent, too good natured for a lout like him. He almost felt unworthy of the attention given to him by a person who didn't even cuss when she stubbed her toe on a table leg. He thought he had done the right thing by pushing her away and giving her a chance to find someone a more appropriate match for her. Had he known she had gotten pregnant from only one night together, things would have been different.
Pregnant...that was the most difficult thing to wrap his head around. Somewhere out there lived a girl who didn't have a father, because that man was him. He had a daughter. Navarion, the irresponsible ex-mercenary who had spent most of his life putting it at risk of premature death by running across the world playing the lone wolf, soldier or fortune role as if it were all a game, had a daughter. And he hadn't been there for her.
Would she even want him to be a part of her life? The question kept ringing in his head even after he paid for his last watered down drink once the moon had already set. If she were as intelligent as Zorena had claimed, then even at seven years old she should be cogent enough to understand that she had a choice to see him or not. That was all assuming she only knew that he existed out there, somewhere; there was no telling what Astariel had told Zelda about him. When he left New Nendis, he hurt her perhaps more than anybody else had in her sheltered life; the look in her eyes when she shut the door of her apartment in his face wasn't that of someone playing hard to get or holding out hope that he'd come running back to her. It was the finality of someone who was so offended that she really didn't want him anymore. That was fine and not fine in a way. Fine in that they didn't have to be together; many people raised children with their ex-spouse without incident, and even became respectful friends. Not fine in that if she had been upset enough, she might have filled Zelda's head with a bunch of negativity regarding him. And since her mother was the one who had struggled so hard to raise her, the girl would almost assuredly listen to whatever she said. And Navarion wouldn't be able to blame either of them.
The tap on his shoulder sent him into a minor panic as he realized he'd been discovered at a bar by none other than his 'twin' sister (twin because she had been adopted three days after his birth). Only little Anathil, whom everybody called 'little' despite the fact that she'd been the first to give grandchildren to their parents, tapped so lightly and practically exuded irreverence like that.
"You're not supposed to be here," she hummed to him like a child despite being as old as him.
"Same goes for you," he replied while promptly paying his tab and stepping down off the barstool.
When he finished straightening out his shirt, he tried to walk outside with her without meeting her eyes, which immediately aroused her suspicion. Being a traditional troll-style shadow priestess herself, Anathil's voodoo was just as powerful as his, and there was no way to spy on her reactions by listening to the spirits. He'd simply have to talk to her on equal footing as a normal person, which he didn't feel comfortable with one bit. Few people knew him as well as his 'twin' sister. She linked their arms together as they walked outside, but pulled him toward a street on the lower northern side rather than the winding road leading to the upper northern bluffs where they lived.
Already sensing that he was in for a lecture, he found no reason to flee. "I've just been trying to figure some things out," he murmured while they shielded their glowing eyes from the sun and dodged the early morning foot traffic of goblin and gnomish workers.
"Something is wrong, though. You're trying to figure out some sort of problem. And you're not telling any of us what it is." Her voice was gentle and lacked the judgmental tone of their middle sister Issinia, but her words were piercing and accurate nonetheless. They turned onto a familiar residential street on a slight incline, and he found himself muted by the memories. "Do you remember playing here when we were kids?" she asked as they passed a popular grocer whose ceiling was only high enough for goblins, gnomes and dwarves.
"Oh Loa...it's been a few years since we've walked through here, but it's literally two minutes from our part of town," he marveled as they counted the houses on the smaller street only they, as the two oldest siblings, could remember.
"Or a short drop if you're willing to jump down from the roads up the sides of the bluffs!" Anathil pointed to a spot of paved road protected by a railing on the higher level roads at the edge of the cliff face in northern Rachet. The houses had been built right up against it, but there was a gap where a patch of bushes lay in between two houses. "Remember when that human kid Ryan jumped and sprained both ankles?"
"Yeah, every other kid thought they were going to get blamed and none of us helped him! Boy, that must have been...well, over thirty years ago!" Both his nostalgia and his sense of loss at having grown so old battled in his mind as they came to stop at an all too familiar duplex built in the goblin style but with extra high ceilings. The two separate families renting the units from their parents and Irien didn't recognize the two glowing eyed beings going for a walk and continued about their business. "Wow...this is it. The house you and me were conceived at," he said in awe once more.
"It's hard to believe, isn't it? The family came a long way. Shari and Del had just been born when we moved out, and now Tan'jin is already talking about getting Venjai married because he's too girl crazy."
"Your hubby is a little old fashioned. Just a little," he joked while searching for a spot where he'd thrown a carton of eggs on the concrete walkway from the second story window as a child. When his sister continued admiring the house the two of them had grown up in for half their childhoods, he turned to her again. "So why the trip down memory lane? What's up?"
For a moment longer, she continued to watch before pulling them further down the street. "Someone wants to see you actually, which made me need to see you first."
Confused by her cryptic words, he tried a more direct approach. "I'm fine, really; I'm just trying to figure out some things."
"Would it be your long term plans aside from waking up, delivering herbs to dealers and taunting yourself by hanging at bars while pretending you won't drink?"
"Careful, Thanil; those words cut deep," he chuckled nervously as they rounded a corner and approached a familiar beachside restaurant that catered mostly to a family crowd. "But yes, you could say it's my future that's occupying my thoughts."
"I thought so. And you might be able to hide things from mom since you've turned that into a science, but dad is starting to get suspicious."
"Dad is always suspicious all the time."
"Anyway, I know you like to keep your private life private, but you know the family is here for you. I wish you'd open up a little more; I don't enjoy seeing you so blue," Anathil chuckled just as nervously, though there was a little more sadness in her voice.
They came up short at the edge of the open air restaurant. It mostly consisted of round tabled covered by umbrellas and a hut for taking orders and preparing food, all on a cement platform in front of the sand that marked the start of the public beach. The two of them had grown up swimming in the ocean almost daily and the memories added to the blue atmosphere.
"Hey, come on, don't be like that," Navarion said while nudging his sister on the arm. "It's not a big deal. I'm just over the hill and trying to deal with my later maturation. Not all of us can be as lucky as you, Issa and Zengu."
"If you say so..." Her sadness passed quickly even though he could tell that she didn't quite believe him. They tried to watch the shimmering water of the ocean, but their nocturnal, drowsy eyes had difficulty due to the brightness of the sun. "Nepha is getting married."
For a moment, Anathil's comment didn't register. Although Navarion did make an effort to keep in touch with their childhood friends, his mind had been so numb and distant the past eight years that his contact was intermittent at best. But the mention of Nephentha, the only daughter of Ratchet's only family of naga, brought him back.
Most of their race was hostile to every other living thing on the planet, but much like his own parents, Nephentha's mother and father had run away to Ratchet in order to be together due to lack of acceptance among their own people; her father had been born of higher caste than her mother, dooming their chances. In such a multiracial city, however, the scaly, serpentine girl grew up as just another person in the crowd, and nobody had treated her differently just because she had coils instead of legs. She had been a close friend of Issinia but an even closer friend of Navarion; if Anathil knew him better than anybody, Nephentha knew him better than anybody except Anathil. That he'd been in such poor contact with his friends that he was apparently the last to find out the scaly woman was now getting married made him feel like a buffoon.
"Oh...oh! Nepha is getting...married? To another naga?"
Giggling like their mother, Anathil let go of his arm and led him onto the concert platform of the restaurant. "I don't think their race can intermarry with any other race, technically speaking, so yes. They're getting married soon, at some place in Dustwallow. Some of us are having a ladies only party for her but we won't be able to attend the wedding itself."
"When did this happen?" he asked, completely dumbstruck.
"A few weeks back, while you guys were gone. We've all been busy since you returned, and you've been busy, so I guess there was no time to tell you. She and her mom have a lot of preparations but I was with her a while back and she asked if she could see you for a few. She's over there." Anathil pointed to a serpentine figures curled up on one of the benches across the concrete patio, nursing a fruit drink and chatting to the gnome server.
"Yeah...I'm tired, but I can definitely take some time for Nepha." He looked and saw that his sister was still standing off to the side of the patio. "You're heading home?"
"For now, I am. Hyptu gave us a hard time today, and Tan'jin hit the bed like a sack," Anathil laughed, referring to the younger of her two sons. "I'll give you two some time and go sleep." Never really in the habit of saying goodbye to her siblings, she turned and walked back up the street where they'd grown up and disappeared around the corner, leaving him to part with yet another piece of his past.
As always, she didn't turn to see him but smiled wryly as he approached her table and sat down. Most of her drink had been finished, and she appeared rather relaxed if as distant as him as she watched the waves crash on the shore. It was a pleasant atmosphere given that there weren't any other customers at the usually packed beachside restaurant yet, and the two of them were able to enjoy a few minutes of silence.
The opalescent crest on her head shone in the sunlight, similar to her eyes. Ever demure per her people's highborne heritage, a polite nod was all she gave in acknowledgment of him in lieu of a handshake or hug. Sitting next to her had a sort of calming effect on anyone who knew her, and he wondered why he had ever lost touch for so long.
"Congratulations," he mumbled, still a bit embarrassed to be finding out so late.
"Thank you." Her continued wry smile gave on that she knew of his embarrassment, but had the decency not to tease him about it. After another sip of her drink, she rested her chin on her hand. "You've been gone a long time."
"Oh, it was only two weeks, wasn't it? We were just over in Stonetalon."
Mincing no words and wasting no time, she was just as direct as him, though usually only with him. "That's not what I meant," she chuckled again, keeping good humor despite her seriousness.
"Yeah...I understand. It's been a strange few years, I suppose." Changing the subject before she could push him just yet, he tried to focus on her news. "So spill the beans: who is this guy? How did you meet him?"
"I haven't met him yet, actually; it's arranged."
"Your parents fought to be together despite your clan's traditions, and then they push you into an arranged marriage?"
"No, no, you can calm down; they didn't have to push me," she laughed more deeply, seeming quite entertained by his reaction. "It's so difficult to find members of our race who aren't hostile to the idea of living among others that I had no way of meeting a suitable suitor. My father ended up finding someone for me after quite a few years of searching. I'm young, but I'm tired of waiting. This is what I want."
"Well, I wish I could have met him to vet him, first," Navarion replied much to her amusement, "but I suppose that might not be possible. What's he like?"
"Like most of our men. He doesn't talk much, but he's strong and works in the ship building and repair industry. I guess you could say he's a stereotype."
"Sounds like your old man himself!"
"What? Oh, well, that's kind of weird but I guess so." She shared a laugh with him, reminding him of how at ease they always felt. There was a certain reserved dryness to her humor, a restraint that would be totally lacking in an Orc or dwarf female that belied her relatively young age - she couldn't be more than a year or so older than him and Anathil. She finished her drink before she continued. "After the wedding, we'll return here. I don't know if you've heard, but there are actually three more of us living in the lagoon - two sisters and the husband of one of them. The trade princess is impressed by our work at the shipyard and was actually asking how we could attract more of our kind here; it takes three or four dwarves, goblins or orcs to do the job that one of us do for the salary of only one and a half of them. We're actually hoping to start a new neighborhood of the city that's under the water; we have the support of the cartel so the whole situation is looking good."
"You know, I think I saw one of those ladies at the fish market the other day but I was too far to tell of it was your mom or someone new. And it would have felt weird to just squint and stare."
"Of course, it certainly would. Serra, she's the unmarried sister, she supplies one of the fishmongers - they're killing the competition, apparently."
"So what's next, then?" Navarion asked. "I'm assuming you guys plan on staying here, right?"
"After traveling, of course. We'll try to get time to ourselves for the first decade or so, but eventually the pressure for kids will come. It always does." Both happiness and wistfulness mixed into her expression; if there was one person he didn't need to listen to the spirits to understand, it was Nephentha.
The green of her scales was a nice bright color, and in a purely aesthetic sense, she was nice to look at. There was no physical or sexual attraction, however; not on either of their parts. Their anatomy was simply too different, not to mention the fact that they could never breed anyway. But when he leaned under the shade of the umbrella so that he could meet her eyes clearly at least once, there was a sadness they both shared regarding news which should have been the happiest of her life and made him happy for her. It was ironic, that the person outside the family who understood him best was female, but someone he could never, ever be with. All the years when he'd ran around with the wrong type of women, transgressed and been transgressed against, Nephentha had been there among their social circle, always knowing the right things to tell him on those few occasions when they did speak to each other freely. And that, more than anything, made Navarion understand Zorena's sentiment regarding his father a little bit better.
"You know that this means the end of our friendship," he sighed, looking at his childhood friend for what would be the last time.
"Yes, it's a part of our traditions; I won't be single anymore. My friends will be other women, my husband's friends will be other men, and that's just how it is." She smiled but the wry wit disappeared, and he could tell she was smiling because there was nothing else she could do but move forward.
He turned toward the ocean and tried to watch the waves for a moment despite the bright shimmer twinkling at him. "I'm really going to miss you, Nepha."
"Me too."
At first he tried to find the right words to tell a friend who he'd known all his life, no matter how poorly he'd been at keeping in touch, and would suddenly just not know anymore. To imagine that they wouldn't be able to laugh and talk freely whenever she visited his sisters seemed so foreign that he almost couldn't feel the full brunt of the loss; it felt like a dream. Eventually he relented, realizing that there really wasn't anything to be said, no magic words that would make things better when faced by the fact that he'd be losing a very dear friend irreversibly.
The two of them stared at the waves until their sadness waned, and he could have sworn he saw her surreptitiously wipe a finger beneath her eye.
"Were circumstances different...in another life, perhaps..."
"...then I would have snatched you up and electrocuted any of those other women who came near you," the naga sea witch laughed despite her own blue mood.
Unfairly brief but meaningful, their conversation had run its course and they both knew it. There wasn't much to do other than confirm to each other what they'd both suspected and then move on; to do otherwise would only drag out a painful parting. Neither of them wanted that.
She rose up on her coils, easily shifting out of the seat due to her nearly alien physiology. He followed suit, still able to stand taller than her. As he always did, he repressed most of his emotions and memories to lessen the sting, and settled once more for a highborne style bow.
"Goodbye, Navarion," she told him quietly, though with a measure of difficulty he could sense.
"Goodbye, Nepha."
Neither of them waited. He walked back up the patio and toward the street, and she slithered down the beach and toward the lagoon where the city's underwater residents made their home. Another piece of his past slipped away, reminding him that he wasn't a reckless youngblood anymore and that he'd have to find his own way in the world eventually.
"And Valmar was being serious when he told you this?" Navarion asked while stretching on his bunk in the crowded men's bedroom. His parents and Irien had their own bedrooms on the third floor; all the children and grandchildren ended up cramming themselves into four smaller bedrooms on the second floor.
Tiondel's bed was right next to his, and his youngest brother lied on his bed despite being clothed for work as well. "Serious as always. Apparently Mulgore has a serious problem ever since those Outland moths were imported and the tribal chieftains are literally paying people for how many you can put down. They're devouring entire mesa tops of maize at a time." A crumpled up flyer written in Common and Orcish with a tauren-style painting of a ravenous moth bore all the information about the agricultural threat.
"I know, it's good cover in a technical sense because it's real, but...seriously? Culling moths?" Navarion turned over to check the water clock they kept on the long dresser against the wall opposite the door. "And Shari already explained this to mom and dad?"
"Yeah, they took it well. In fact, I think the ridiculous nature of the quest is part of what made them so open to the idea; it's completely non threatening and doesn't freak them out. Seriously though, you need to get down there now and show face. Me and auntie will cover for you guys, but make sure you're ready to answer any questions." Tiondel promptly tossed the crumpled flyer to the oldest brother to read.
Getting out of bed with a great sigh, Navarion fumbled with the flyer before smoothing it out and looking it over. "There's not that much to remember. Moths devour corn, we cull moths. I just hope I don't burst out laughing if they ask me about it." Tossing the flyer aside, he exited the room and went downstairs, heading for the living room toward the front of the house where most of the family was sitting.
Ever the center of the family, his mother sat in a rocking chair of branches that had been naturally grown by Druidic magic over time; thin, tiny branches and roots formed a sort of mesh for the seat and leaves even sprouted out of a few places as if to complete the quite literally homegrown piece of furniture. Her ancient, faced eyes retained little of the glow typical their people but there was a shine to it nonetheless as she watched Hyptu, the second youngest of her grandchildren trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle. Sporting hair the same pale jade color as Venjai, the seven year old boy was quieter and more focused than his older brother, who was probably off being watched by Irien as he smoothed manure and compost onto the enormous herb garden the family maintained out back. Anathil and Tan'jin sat on a couch nearby, clutching papers and discussing the family business or something along that order.
Cecilia looked up to Navarion as he walked in. "Come have a seat; I want to make sure I see you off properly before your next dangerous adventure," she joked while motioning for him to take the chair next to her. Her smile lit up the room, and despite being millennia old she still looked slightly younger than their father.
Settling in next to her, he watched his nephew finish the jigsaw puzzle in record time and start in a second one. "Oh, I'm real worried about this one, mom. We might want to contact the cartel about a life insurance policy." She laughed despite her oldest son joking about being murdered by moths, and her own sense of confront was infectious despite the fact that he was technically lying to her about his destination. "Do Zengu and Thandra plan on bringing the twins by any time soon?"
"Soon in general, but not definite dates. They wanted to have come already, but the semester for the twins got extended due to too many days off, what with mishaps after last Winter Veil and all. Issinia and Narrus have talked about coming home early, but apparently the mission has competition from Light worshippers."
"Competition? Why do missionaries need to compete? They're teaching poor people how to properly irrigate their land," he grumbled in mild shock."
"Well, I'm not sure how seriously to take Issa's version of events. She claims that Stormwind is funding missions for the Holy Light and demanding conversion to their religion in exchange for fertilizer, a trick the Temple of Elune would never do." Cecilia smiled again as if the middle daughter were still the self righteous conservative teenager she once was. "I'm not entirely sure if that's the case or of Issa just dislikes seeing pandaren convert to the Light instead of the Balance."
"That sounds like her. I think her conspiracy theories make her feel more comfortable than admitting that the world is entropic and nobody controls anything."
"Your sister is...very dedicated to the Goddess," his mother stated, always seeing nothing but good in her children. Strangely, he felt no guilt for taking advantage of that like he did other times; in this instance, it felt necessary until he could sort out the mess that was his personal life. As if she noticed him deep in thought, Cecilia took Navarion's hand and peered at him in bemused suspicion. "You're zoning out. That's like Zengu, but not you."
Exposed if only for half a second, he tried to brush it off. "I've just been doing a lot of flying lately. To Stonetalon and now Mulgore," he replied, masking his discomfort the best he could. "I think I need a long vacation after this next quest."
"Good! It would be nice to have you for more than a month before seeing you and Shari riding off on raptors or wyverns again. This house is never too crowded."
Hyptu finished the second jigsaw puzzle just as Cecilia finished her sentence and laid a sheet of tracing paper over it, tracing the lines without the image of a Zul'Gurub step pyramid beneath it. The family marveled at how busy the child kept himself for a few minutes, talking about Belinia and Gelinia, the twin daughters of Zengu and his wife Thandra as well as Issinia's daughter Ireth for a few more minutes. There was precious little time for Navarion to spend with his mother before Sharimara knocked on the wall from the hallway and stepped inside.
"The flight master is ready for us," she announced to everyone in the room. "We have a direct flight there, so it's going to be a long night and following day for us." She walked inside to hug their mother before she had a chance to stand up from her rocking chair despite the fact that Cecilia was still perfectly capable and mobile on her own.
"Alright dear, you two take care with those rabid moths now," their mother chuckled while rising for Sharimara to kiss her on the forehead.
"Don't worry mom, we will," Sharimara laughed while releasing her to Navarion and shaking Hyptu off of her leg.
The boy's parents had already wandered over. "We want you both back in one piece!" Anathil added while giving both the departing siblings a big hug.
Tan'jin, himself the son of a dark troll mother and night elf father, sufficed with a Kaldorei bow instead. "Elune be with you both. Once you return, we'll have to chain you both up here in the house just to make sure we get to see you for a decent length of time!"
"Don't worry, we're staying home for a while after this," Navarion said while giving his mother one last hug.
There was no sadness, but a sort of seriousness as she finally let him go. "You bet you are!"
After a few more farewells - to everyone except Irien, Tiondel and Venjai - the two siblings sharing a secret managed to work their way to the shoe rack in the anteroom. Sharimara grabbed Navarion's shoulder before they exited.
"Dad's waiting for you on the porch," she whispered. "He knows something is up, so be careful."
Nodding and walking outside as nonchalantly as he could, Navarion found Khujand leaning over the railing of the porch and watching the stars shine down on a fountain the family had recently had grown thanks to Tan'jin. His dad didn't turn to face him, but the pause in chewing on the half mouthful of cloves signaled that he noticed his oldest son walking by.
"I figure ya and Shari already finished all tha goodbyes," Khujand said plainly after spitting out a bit of chewed up clove.
"Except to you, dad. It's going to be a short trip, though - you'll see." Always sort of awkward around his father, he stood close by and waited for the smothering hug - he always felt weird being the one to initiate it with Khujand. When his father didn't, he knew something was up. "We're staying for a while once we get back, don't worry. No more questing for me or Shari for a good amount of time," he tried to reassure the older shadow hunter.
Not fooled but not totally clued in, Khujand turned to face him. "Make sure that ya're here both physically and mentally, and emotionally, son," the old jungle troll told him softly. "Whatever problems ya might be worryin' about, we're gonna face them tagether; that's what family does."
Although he knew his father meant nothing in particular by the words aside from what he said, it hit Navarion in his core hard to hear that. "I know, dad. Always." After a brief and awkward hug, Sharimara joined them for a short goodbye before they collected their belongings and left. Khujand watched them until they were out the gates of the modest estate, causing Navarion to wonder just how much his father knew.
There was no time for dwelling on what he couldn't fathom. Valmar was waiting for them at the flight point; rather than one direct flight to Mulgore, the group would have a rather arduous journey of multiple stops ahead of them. At least the constant changes would be enough to prevent his creeping worry over how his long lost daughter would react to him from eating away at his soul. He hoped.
