((Comment: If you've gotten this far, bravo! Hope you are enjoying the ride. Before reading further, however, I would recommend reading the three-part story I have posted called "Light and Balance." It gives all the backstory on Kiril's relationship with the druid he met in Kalimdor...))

Resistance

It was that eerie hour before dawn, when the complete darkness of night began to give away to the grayness of coming light. It was the time of day when Elias began to think about Tavian, turning the events of the last time he had seen him over and over in his mind. How could he have been so foolish? Why had he chosen that moment to become bold when he knew that Tavian could be in no state to accept his affection? And more... how had he been so blind as to not see what was now so obvious in hindsight: the depth of the twins' relationship, the depth of its illness. He cursed himself quietly so as not to wake his patient, though he knew that Tashin would stir soon in any case. He always did this time of the morning, usually delirious and confused, asking the same questions.

Elias crossed the room in which he had installed Tashin. He had agreed to keep the boy at his estate not because Zalmon had ordered him to, promising adequate compensation, but because he could not get Tavian's last words to him out of his mind.

If you truly care for me, Elias, then the only thing you can do for me is to care for him. Please. Do this for me.

When he played the words over in his head the holy paladin could still feel the hard press of Tavian's lips against his. Pulling the curtain partway back he sighed and pressed his forehead to the cold glass pane of the window. It had been two weeks since Tashin's resurrection. The younger twin was slowly recovering, though he still often seemed disoriented and had not left his room. In fact he hardly even got out of the bed.

He heard Tashin stir in the bed, and turned around slowly, the dim light from the open curtain falling across his form.

"W-where..." Tashin murmured.

Elias crossed to him, sitting at the edge of the bed. He regarded Tashin's face, the tangle of his black hair, the way his slightly parted lips worked around a fluttery breath and for moment... for a moment he was seeing Tavian. Closing his eyes he looked away again, touching his temples. He heard the young rogue come awake with a start and a sharp gasp, pushing himself partway up. Elias looked over his shoulder to see Tashin blinking at him, startled, his nightshirt in disarray, panting slightly before the young Sindorei collapsed back onto the bed. "Where's Tavian?" he gasped. "Where am I?"

Elias took a deep breath. How many times were they going to do this? "You are in my home, Tashin. You have been for two weeks. Tavian is gone. He left the city with your cousin the night you got here."

Tashin breathed deeply for a few moments and then made a soft, miserable sound as he remembered everything. He turned onto his side and curled in on himself. Elias reached back, hesitating for a moment before brushing Tashin's long hair out of his eyes. The young man lying in his guest bed, who was once again his patient, filled him with conflicting feelings.

There was a certain amount of disdain that he felt for Tashin. For how weak he was, how cowardly, how selfish. Knowing now what he did about his relationship with Tavian made it worse. Not only because they were brothers, but because of everything he had put Tavian through, and still claimed to love him with the depth of a lover. But there was also a very strong affection, a desire to protect and comfort the young man that could not help but remind Elias of Tavian. He was the only piece of Tavian Elias had at the moment, and that made him precious.

Elias continued to push Tashin's hair back over his shoulder and then gently rubbed his upper back. Tashin didn't move either to come closer or to pull away. "He can't be gone..." he whispered, "not again. He promised..."

Elias placed his hand on Tashin's forehead to feel for fever, which he had been exhibiting from time to time. His forehead was cool and Elias was relieved. If there was anything good to be taken away from this it was that the withdrawal he'd suffered and his subsequent death and resurrection had put an end to Tashin's addiction to bloodthistle. His current state was due solely to his heart condition and the stress put on his body and soul by being brought back from death.

And, of course, his broken heart, Elias thought a little bitterly. But then he had enough of his own bitter disappointment to nurse over this whole mess. He looked hard at Tashin and sighed. But misery also loved company.

"He did what he thought was best for you right now. You were poisoning each other. You need to rest and recover and return to your eldest brother. I promised Tavian I would help you do so," Elias said.

Tashin half-turned onto his back and looked up at Elias with glowing green eyes. "Did you make him leave? Did you chase him away from me?" he asked, his lip curling slightly.

Elias looked back at the young rogue his expression stony. He knew that Tashin's hostility was just a defense he put up. He'd come to realize that everything about Tashin was a defense he put up. It was all just an attempt to keep others from being able to control him, to imprison him, to turn him into some frail child to be coddled. It must have been hard, Elias thought, to grow up limited and imprisoned by your own body, both a blessing and a curse to have a twin who was not thusly effected, a mirror through which to live vicariously, and both experience all that you could not do and be painfully aware of all that you were not.

Tashin had had a lot of time alone with his thoughts, a lot of time to let these things fester and rot without even realizing it. He had no doubt that at one time Tashin had truly been the sweet, loving young man that Tavian once described to him. But somewhere along the way he had been covered over by the hard facade of self preservation Tashin now showed to the world.

Elias' expression softened and he touched that snarling face, seeing it waver uncertainly, green eyes widening slightly. "You know that I didn't. I wouldn't do that. I wanted to take care of both of you, but he did as your eldest brother told him and left the city. We've been over this."

Tashin looked away and closed his eyes. "I keep forgetting."

"It will get better. It would help if you got out of bed."

"I can't face the world without him again."

"I think you probably can," Elias said softly, though his voice had a hard edge. It never did much good to mollycoddle the sick. "You have your own strength. You don't need him."

"I don't want to be without him. I love him," Tashin hissed.

"And he loves you," Elias said, getting to his feet. "Be content in that knowledge. At least you have that much." Tashin looked up at him, his face twisting as he struggled to hold back tears. "You can trust me," Elias said. "You will get better."

"I can't trust anyone. Not even Tavian. He broke his promise." Now Tashin was crying, covering his face with his hands.

"Can you blame him? Look what staying with you brought down on both your heads. He did what was best for both of you."

Tashin sobbed. His heart twisted painfully at the truth of Elias' words and he wanted to be physically sick, but he had not eaten enough. Every time he fell asleep again he convinced himself it was all a bad dream and that he would wake up in Tavian's arms in their little hole in the wall. But for two weeks he had just woken up in Elias' guest bed alone or with no one but Elias at his side. He was running out of tricks to play on himself, and the truth of a life, however short or long it may be without Tavian near him, was almost too terrible to contemplate.

"You will see him again," Elias said as he moved towards the door, exhausted just from being around Tashin. "He asked me to take care of you, Tashin, and I will. Live to see him. Become strong enough to look him in the eyes again one day."

Tashin lay crying for some time after Elias left. Slowly the sun was coming up through the window and the room grew brighter and brighter. Eventually his tears were dried up, and a quiet settled over the room. He stared up at the ceiling feeling utterly alone, playing Elias' words over in his head. Perhaps he was right. For two weeks he had done nothing but lie in bed, fool himself, and fluctuate between becoming sicker and becoming better.

He was angry. Angry with Zalmon, angry with Elias, and angry with Tavian. But he also knew that no matter where Tavian was he was probably suffering just as much if not more. He would hate himself for breaking his promise, but was willing to sacrifice that for him if it meant that Tashin might truly get better. Maybe they were nothing but poison for each other, but if that was the case it was a poison that Tashin himself had created and spread. From the first moment he touched Tavian with ulterior motives, drew him into his arms and into his body with the intent to get from him what he wanted, not simply to be with him, the poison had begun to spread.

Maybe he deserved to be left alone. Maybe he did have to become worthy of seeing Tavian again, to become strong enough to look him in the eyes. Tashin fielded these thoughts with more calmness and resolve than he would have expected from himself. Slowly he sat up, blinking into the light of the rising sun and placed his bare feet on the cold stone floor.

For two weeks Tavian followed Kiril like an obedient dog, trotting at his heels, nodding mutely at each direction given, staring blankly forward. As long as he could hold onto Jabbi's reins and follow that patch of bright orange-red hair in front of him Tavian was doing alright. He had hardly seen or noticed any of the lands they passed through.

The grotesque obscenities of the Undercity had met vague indifference. The Zepplin ride to Orgrimmar had passed away with Tavian clinging white knuckled to the railing, shaking violently as Kiril stood at the prow of the flying ship grinning into the wind, his long hair whipping out behind him like a kite tail of fire, but even then his mind had been elsewhere. Even the tour through the almost hive-like Orcish capitol had failed to phase Tavian overly much.

He had been unable to keep from staring at the first few members of the other Horde races he saw, finding it aggravating how Trolls did not seem to have any regard for personal space in crowded areas, how Orcs had no qualms about shoving one another and everyone else out of their way, and how the Tauren seemed to plod about everything they did. Beyond these nuisances Tavian's mind was resolutely elsewhere, constantly fixated on Tashin and Elias, wondering how they were doing, agonizing over whether or not he had done the right thing, and generally finding all else just not that important.

Parked at an inn in the dusty, hot, crowded city, sharing a hammock with his cousin Kiril finally reached the end of his patience with the melancholy rogue.

"Do you want me to take you home right now?" he asked as Tavian failed to express any interest in doing anything but lying in the swinging rope bed. "You came to me and -begged- me to leave the city with you right that very instant. Which I was happy to do, but Tavian this is ridiculous. You can't just wallow. You can wallow in Silvermoon."

Tavian glared at his distant cousin and rolled onto his back to look up at him. "I can't be in Silvermoon. I've been disowned, Kiril! I didn't -want- to leave Tashin. This is killing me! Can't you understand that?"

Kiril pursed his lips together and looked away. "Of course I can," he said softly. "I've been where you are."

"Then why are you giving me a hard time?" Tavian hissed.

Kiril looked back at his cousin sympathetically. "Because it was only after I ceased to dwell on his face that it was bearable. I had the desolation of our people to distract me, to give me purpose, and channel my emotions into. You have a whole wide world to do the same with. Try not to think about him. Stop poking at the wounds; they'll just get infected. I know it hurts, and that's ok, but you have to try, Tavian. It doesn't just go away on its own. It never really goes away, but the world is full of distractions." He grinned down at the rogue and leaned over him slightly. "You were a very good distraction for me once. I would have no qualms about returning the favor."

Tavian blinked and then closed his eyes, making a groaning sound. "I know you mean well, Kiril, but the thought makes me sick at the moment."

Kiril made a pouty face and then turned away with a disgruntled sigh, propping his chin in his hand. "That's the first time I've gotten that."

Tavian couldn't help but chuckle hollowly. "Nothing personal, it's not you."

Kiril looked back over his shoulder and smiled. "I know. I'm far too desirable to be offended." He looked a bit more seriously at his cousin. "But honestly. If you need me for anything, I'm here for you. But please, please stop this..." he waved his hand in Tavian's direction, "whatever this is. Or else I will hit you on the head with my staff."

Tavian sighed. "I'll try."

Kiril stood up suddenly then, making the hammock rock. "That's it. I know what you need."

Tavian furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"You need some tropical sunshine and some potential for scandalousness."

"No. I don't think that's what I need at all," Tavian said skeptically.

"No arguments. We're going to Booty Bay. Not only is the air not full of dust and the smell of orcs, but there is sunshine, water, palm trees, and private rooms at the inn. And lots of alcohol."

Tavian blinked and sighed. "Ok... maybe I could use some of that."

Kiril grinned, brushing his long hair over one shoulder. "Then let's grab our stuff and get out of this place. We'll have to make it to Ratchet first. Only one boat goes directly to Booty Bay, and I'm not walking through the jungle."

Tavian sat up partway. "You want to go now?"

Kiril gave Tavian a look. "What else are we doing with our time? Did you want to hang around in this pathetic excuse for an inn with all the grunting, snorting inhabitants of Orgrimmar?"

Tavian started to get up, his head pounding slightly from lying down most of the day. "You're the one that brought us here."

"Yeah well... I thought it would distract you, that you'd like to see something different, but apparently nothing so far impresses you."

Tavian shrugged and pulled on his pack. "Lead the way."

A day later the overland trip to Ratchet had not done all that much to improve Tavian's mood, and Kiril had left him alone on the dock with their belongings to make a "quick trip" to the Cross Roads to try to get some news about current happenings in Kalimdor. As much as Tavian relished the idea of sitting around another dusty Horde settlement, he chose to pass on the whole experience, and so was instead sitting on the dock in Ratchet feeling as if his brains were slowly boiling away in the noonday sun.

Had he been paying much attention Tavian might have found the slowly growing gathering on the dock an interesting study in the anthropology of Azeroth, but as it was he barely paid any attention to the various races that were milling about, Horde and Alliance eying each other warily, though generally being respectful. The bruisers on the dock looked tense as if expecting a skirmish to break out at any moment. Had he been paying attention he might have noticed the arrival of a group of Kaldorei before one of them detached himself from the group and approached him slowly, addressing him in what sounded like common.

Startled, he looked up to see a tall elven man looking down at him with a bland smile. He had dark green hair which was loosely braided down his back and blueish gray skin that reminded Tavian of the color of twilight. Tavian realized this was the first time he had been so close to one of the Kaldorei and hadn't had one of his daggers in it. Had his mind been clear those golden eyes might have intrigued him, but as it was he really just didn't want to be bothered by anyone. Still he couldn't help giving him a once over and noticing that his leather clothing was handmade and that he wasn't wearing any shoes, his bare feet apparently perfectly at home on the rough wooden boards.

"I'm sorry I don't speak common," he said in Thalassian, looking away again.

The night elf tilted his head to the side and cleared his throat, trying again. He pointed out at the sparkling blue water and the cove shores and said, "It is beautiful," in a thickly accented attempt at Thalassian.

Tavian glanced up at him again and the larger male elf gave him a grin. Tavian couldn't help the small derisive chuckle this brought from him. He lifted his long black hair off of his neck and shook his head. "It's hot."

"Hot?" he rolled the word around in his mouth for a moment and then nodded, "Ah, dur," the Kaldorei replied, nodding and looking back over the water.

"Ishura! Ishura!" the cry broke the relative quiet of the docks, sending several sea birds crying into the air. Tavian turned his head sharply and saw one of the other Kaldorei, a woman with long dark blue hair and glowing silvery eyes, beckoning to the man who had come to stand next to him. With a sigh the night elf man waved back to her, and then turned to Tavian, nodded, and went back to his companions. Tavian shrugged. Strange bunch, the Kaldorei.

The day wore on, and the sun climbed higher. Tavian couldn't believe that Kiril was still gone and that the boat had not arrived yet. The dock was starting to get crowded, and in an attempt to remain separate from the others he now sat very close to the edge. He was starting to feel dizzy and wondered if maybe he should have eaten more or at least thought to have some water on hand. He supposed he could walk back up to the inn, but that would mean carrying both his and Kiril's things and losing his spot on the dock.

Panting slightly he leaned over the edge of the dock to look into the clear blue water. He stared for a few moments watching the fish below the surface come in and out of focus and then slowly watched as his own reflection settled on the surface of the water. He hadn't actually looked at himself since he left Silvermoon. His eyes were hollow and his skin looked pale and drawn. His dark hair fell forward over one shoulder listlessly.

Tavian leaned farther forward, wanting to get a better look at himself. He looked ill... he looked like Tashin. The thought of his beloved twin hit him hard enough to steal away his breath. His eyebrows furrowed and he mouthed Tashin's name, his lips forming lovingly around the word. The farther he leaned forward, the closer he came to the image of his twin, and the dizzier Tavian became. His body was prickling with an itchy, cold sweat, but he didn't notice. He could almost feel Tashin's lips pressed to his, taste his familiar flavor, smell him... He thought of his face in lovemaking and closed his eyes, going limp as he tumbled from the dock and into the water.

Kiril, who had been watching Tavian with increasing concern as he ambled down the steep road leading into Ratchet, cried out as he saw his cousin fall like a dark-haired stone from the dock into the deep, clear water.

"Tavian!" and spurred his blue hawkstrider forward. His eyes fixed on the ripples on the surface of the water, expecting Tavian to surface again immediately. The young priest did not notice all of the eyes that turned to him or the sharp intake of breath that was drowned out by the now buzzing crowd of passengers on the dock.

When the rogue did not break the surface and Kiril saw Tavian's dark form only slowly floating upwards, he cried Tavian's name again, jumping from his strider's back and hitting the water at a run, trying to wade into the deep water, but his robes made it difficult for him to move quickly, the sodden fabric becoming heavy and entrapping his legs, causing him to stumble clumsily as he splashed through the water trying to get to Tavian all the way at the end of the pier.

There was the flat sound of bare feet pounding over the worn boards of the dock, and the gawking crowd parted to make way for the Kaldorei man who had addressed Tavian earlier, and who had surreptitiously watched him from a distance, concerned by the sense of hopelessness he had exuded. Sprinting the length of the dock he dove with perfectly executed form into the sparkling water, his body shifting almost instantly to that of a sea lion, which slipped through the water like a knife.

Powerful jaws closed around the fabric of Tavian's tunic as he was hauled through the water toward the shore. Kiril waited breathlessly, snatching his cousin into his arms from the druid and pulling him up onto the sloping shore, laboring through the weight of the rogue and the weight of his sodden robes. Lying Tavian down on his back Kiril panted in fear and concern as he hurriedly leaned down, slapping at Tavian's face, listening for breath and a heartbeat.

"Tavian! Tavian?!" he cried, quailing to see the rogue so pale. He hadn't been in the water that long, had he? He pressed his ear to Tavian's chest. His heart was beating, but he was not breathing. Kiril tipped Tavian's head back and plugged the rogue's nose, pressing their lips together and forcing air into his lungs. Once. Twice. Three times he breathed into Tavian, and at the end of the third breath Tavian spasmed and coughed, filling Kiril's mouth with salt water.

The priest gagged and turned his face away, spitting the disgustingly warm, viscous fluid out onto the ground and wretched a couple times. Tavian gagged himself and coughed again, rolling weakly towards his side. Neither of them noticed the druid as he shifted again, crawling out of the water to Kiril's side. They could not see the disbelieving look in his golden eyes as he reached out to touch the ends of Kiril's vibrant hair and rest a shaking hand on his back as if to comfort as the priest continued to cough, trying to get the taste and feel of the water out of his mouth.

When Kiril did finally realize that someone was touching him he spun around, slapping the hand away defensively, panting to catch his breath. But when he saw the druid crouched beside him his breath was once again lost. Golden eyes set in a fine, dusk-colored face looked back at him as shocked as he felt. Pieces of dark green hair which had pulled free of his long braid clung wetly to his face. A piece of seaweed had become stuck in it just behind one of his long ears.

"Tamarack..." Kiril heard himself breath. His heart beat so hard in his chest he could not catch his breath. He did not know what he was feeling, but it was making him dizzy. His mouth had gone completely dry.

A smile, wondering and dazzling began to spread on the druid's face and he reached out to touch the priest. Kiril slapped the hand away abruptly without hesitation. The druid recoiled slightly, furrowing his brows uncertainly. "Thero'shan...?"

Kiril shook his head, setting his face stonily, turning back to Tavian who was lying on his side, panting into the dirt. "No," he hissed. "Not now." Blindly, shaking, but with determination Kiril got his arms around Tavian and hauled him to his feet. The rogue windmilled his arms and swayed a bit, stumbling as Kiril began to drag him up the slope. All eyes were trained on them, curious about the drama that was unfolding too quietly for any of them to hear.

Kiril tried not to look at them, but now he could not help but see the group of Kaldorei standing together at the end of the dock, knowing instinctively that most of them were druids, but recognizing also the Sentinel woman, Amarra, who he had known as Tamarack's niece. The strangest feeling of weakness came over him and his legs gave out, causing him to stumble to his knees, dragging Tavian who was still disoriented down with him.

Cursing under his breath, Kiril started to get back to his feet, tripping over the wet hem of his robes. He made a pained sound when he felt the heavy warmth of hands helping him up. He tried to wrench out of them, but they did not let him go until he was on his feet. Kiril shook, forcing himself not to look back over his shoulder, but he could feel Tamarack's presence there like the heat of a burning bonfire.

He reached for Tavian who was already slowly, dazedly, getting back to his feet. His cousin looked utterly unwell in body, mind, and spirit. The peal of the bell announcing the arrival of the ship finally sounded. Pursing his lips together Kiril held up the hem of his sodden robes with one hand and drug Tavian back down the dock through the crowd with the other. They were given a wide berth, none of the onlookers quite sure exactly what was going on with the two Sindorei and the Kaldorei druid who seemed torn between following them and going back to his companions.

"What were you thinking?" Kiril hissed, shoving Tavian towards the bed in their cabin and slamming the door shut with his foot. The rogue stumbled a bit and then shrugged lethargically.

"I don't know," he said softly, his voice distant. "I was so hot... I looked into the water and I saw... I saw Tash, and I just... fell."

"You almost drowned!" Kiril shouted, channeling is restless feelings towards the rogue, beginning to strip him out of his soaking clothes with a viciousness that belied his agitation. Tavian's hands moved slowly as if to help Kiril with his clothing, but the priest slapped them away as they were just getting in his way. He grumbled under his breath as he peeled away the wet leather clothing, tossing it to the side in a soggy, salty heap until Tavian was completely naked, shivering and pale. The priest shoved him towards the bed again. "Now lie down! And don't do anything stupid while I put your clothes somewhere to dry."

Tavian did as he was told, numbly pulling the covers on the questionable looking bed back and slipping underneath, still shivering. Kiril looked over at him, and then began to angrily tug his own wet clothes off, replacing them with a pair of loose, dry cloth pants and a simple green shirt. There was no need to don any of his battle gear on the ship. If anyone started any trouble the crew would not hesitate to toss them overboard.

"Who saved me?" Tavian murmured softly.

"It's not important," Kiril snapped, not really understanding why he felt so out of sorts.

"It was that Kaldorei, wasn't it?" Tavian went on slowly. "The one that talked to me. He said the cove was beautiful, and I just said it was hot. He had a terrible accent."

Kiril paused and looked over at Tavian. He could feel his eyes stinging and a lump forming in his throat. He hated the way it felt. He had become so good at keeping all of this at bay... 'Beautiful,' one of the few Thalassian words Tamarack had wanted to learn so that he could whisper it in Kiril's ear when they made love. Fighting back tears that felt angry, happy, and sad all at the same time Kiril scowled. "Sounds like something stupid he would say." But this was lost on Tavian. He had already fallen asleep.

Going to the bedside Kiril looked down at his distant cousin and pulled his damp hair back from his face. He was now more worried about Tavian than he had been before. The depth of his heartbreak was to the point where it was affecting his mind, his judgment, his health. He'd hoped that distractions were what Tavian truly needed. That once he was out in the world experiencing it as he had always longed to do he would see that there could be plenty of life beyond Tashin. He had hoped that his separation from his twin would make him well, not ill. This wasn't going to be as simple as he had hoped.

And now things in his own carefully maintained emotional state were being thrown into upheaval. What in the name of the Light was Tamarack Strongbough doing in Ratchet traveling to Booty Bay on the exact same day he happened to be there with Tavian? Why had he spoken to Tavain in the first place? And why had he been the one to pull the rogue from the water? Kiril bit his bottom lip as he gathered up their wet clothing. He knew what Tamarack would say, and the stupid, indulgent smile he would say it with. "Fate."

With a grumble and a grunt Kiril yanked the door to the hallway open and nearly tripped over the bare feet of the druid that was already filling up his mind. Tamarack looked up at him expectantly from where he sat against the wall of the narrow corridor, gaze soft and concerned, filled with uncertainly and longing. The look made Kiril's stomach twist, and for a moment he simply stared back, unable to keep himself from drinking in the sight of the druid who looked like a dog waiting for reassurance from a beloved master. Finally Kiril forced himself to look away and step over the druid's legs. "What are you doing here?" he hissed, falling into an uncomfortable, rusty common tongue.

"Waiting for you," Tamarack replied obviously.

"Clearly," Kiril answered, trying to keep himself from shaking. "Why?"

Tamarack got to his feet and began to follow after the priest. "Because I have not seen you in six years, and you are the light of my heart. What more reason do I need?"

Kiril felt his heart skip a beat and his breath caught in his throat. The words made him dizzy with their obvious sense, but also infuriated him. Tamarack's straightforward and yet utterly obtuse logic had always had that effect on him. "Perhaps you should consider whether or not I wish to see you," he snapped.

"Of course you do. Why wouldn't you?"

Kiril turned around now to face him, his fiery spirit flaring up past his usually calm, priestly exterior. "Because I hate you!" he spat.

Whatever response or reaction he thought this would get out of the druid it wasn't the one he got. "You can't possibly hate me," Tamarack chuckled. "You loved me enough to defy your family, your people, and your life to be with me. You love me still, or else your pride would not try so hard to convince us both that you don't."

Kiril bristled. "Have you considered that maybe I love you and hate you at the same time? No matter why you did it or what the result was you betrayed me. I have had a lot of time to think about that."

Tamarack stepped closer, one of his eyebrows arched. His expression was amused, and this made Kiril angrier, but also made his stomach twist. "Then you've had a lot of time to realize that what I did was for the best for both of us. Just like I said at the time. And what has it cost us except time and tears?"

Now Kiril really did draw his face into a mask of anger. He stepped forward angrily, glaring up at the druid. "It cost me a -lot-. It cost me the choice to become Sindorei. Look at my eyes, Tamarack, can you see in them what it cost me? Can you see the things I have seen, what I have sacrificed and suffered for my people now? It cost me much more than time and tears to return to Quel'thalas. It cost me self."

Tamarack looked back at him evenly. "But you have gained self as well. You didn't want to be a selfish child forever, did you?" His lips quirked upwards at the corner.

Kiril glared at him for a moment more, feeling his resolve start to crack as he was drawn in by that budding smile and those steadfast golden eyes. Flaring his nostrils he turned away abruptly mumbling under his breath, "I need to put these somewhere to dry."

He stalked down the narrow corridor and up the stairs to the main deck aware of Tamarack dogging his heels. The tips of his fingers brushed the small of Kiril's back and the priest shot him a dirty look over his shoulder, but the druid only smiled back. It was windy on the deck and Kiril's long red hair was caught and blown in it haphazardly. He could sense the druid watching it. He had always been partial to Kiril's hair. The priest blushed in spite of himself and began savagely laying the wet clothes on a piece of cargo netting stretched over some crates. He secured the articles by weaving them through the net, taking particular care of Tavian's things.

"Is he a lover?"

Kiril looked back over his shoulder at Tamarack who was leaning against a nearby mast, eying him carefully. "What would make you think that?"

Tamarack shrugged. "You obviously care about him greatly. You travel with him, you were fearful for his life, you touch his clothes with affection."

Kiril opened his mouth to respond and made a couple false starts, finding that he could only get anything out when he looked away again. "He's not... my lover. I mean we've... once, but it was a long time ago. Tavian is a distant cousin, and a childhood friend. And I do care for him greatly, but I've had no 'lover' since I left you."

"What is wrong with him? He's ill."

"He has a broken heart. It will mend," Kiril said a bit sharply, and stood up. When he turned around it was to find Tamarack standing directly in front of him, close enough that they were almost touching. He gasped and tried to step back, but the netting and crates were behind him.

"Thero'shan," Tamarack murmured, putting his hands tightly on Kiril's narrow waist, pulling him closer and leaning down.

"Tamarack!" Kiril growled, clutching at his wrists, trying to pry his hands off, but the closeness of the man he both loved and hated and the smell of him rendered Kiril useless in his struggles. He swallowed as he felt the druid's breath on his cheek. "W-wait!"

"Again you ask me to wait, and again I cannot," the druid murmured, deeply inhaling the scent of Kiril's skin. "It's been six years, thero'shan. I let you go only because I vowed it would not be forever. I have waited for fate to deliver you to me once more, and it has. This is the moment I will not wait for you any longer."

"You can't just- mmph-" Kiril's words were cut short as the druid's lips silenced him forcefully. His fingers constricted against his wrists, clawing into his twilight colored skin. He closed his eyes tightly, powerless to do anything but sway weakly in Tamarack's grip, and give himself into the kiss as he was filled with his taste and feel, so familiar and missed it nearly made him scream.

But a part of the priest still struggled against the part that wanted to throw itself into the druid and never look back. There was too much to risk, it said. There would be too much pain. He had worked so hard to become stoic and unwavering. He could not throw it all away now... not after all he had suffered. But hadn't returning to Tamarack's embrace been what his heart had so long longed for..? The cacophony of confusing emotions and voices in his head began to drown out the wonder of simply kissing Tamarack again. Kiril began to struggle and placed his hands firmly on the druid's chest pushing him away hard enough to break the kiss.

"Stop! Stop it!" he panted. He was shaking. Tamarack looked down at him bewildered and began to pull him back into his arms. "No!" Kiril shoved him away again. "You can't just show up in my life somehow and try to tell me that everything is the way it was. It's not!"

"But it can be... it will be..." Tamarack said, trying again to pull him closer.

"No it can't! I'm not who I was. I'm a member of a race that is now part of the Horde, Tamarack."

"What does that matter? It doesn't matter, and certainly not to a druid."

Kiril continued to pull away, struggling to get out of Tamarack's grasp, but the druid now let him go willingly. "It can't just be that easy, Tam. You can't just make it that easy," he said, his voice wavering as he shook his head, trying to keep the tears he felt forming from falling. He stumbled away from the druid, down the deck, and back below to the cabins. Tamarack did not follow him, and it was with a gasp of relief and pain that Kiril ducked through the door into the cabin he shared with Tavian and bolted it behind him. He turned around with a sigh, running a hand through his hair and froze, regarding the scene before him in disbelief.

"Tavian what are you doing?" he said slowly. The rogue was sitting crosslegged backwards on a chair which he had pulled to the wall where a filthy, crooked mirror hung. He was staring at himself and holding one of his daggers up near his face with one hand. In the other he held a chunk of his long black hair.

For the briefest moment he was afraid that his cousin was about to plunge the dagger into his own throat, but then to his horror Kiril watched as Tavian mechanically began sawing off his beautiful locks, and as he watched them fall to the floor he realized that it was already littered with strands of his hair. Kiril watched as piece after piece fell to the floor. The more hair fell away the more tears leaked from Tavian's fel green eyes.

"What are you doing?" he repeated.

"I can't stand to look at myself and think of him," he said numbly. "I have his face and I... I can't change that. This is all I can do..."

Kiril's eyes widened, and he felt deep empathy for his cousin. His own tangled emotions feeding off the rogue's.

Pursing his lips he came up behind him , putting a hand over Tavian's as it gripped the dagger. It was shaking, and his once beautiful hair was a sad mess of chopped lengths. Kiril took the dagger from Tavian's hand, soothingly running his fingers through the mangled locks. Tavian closed his eyes and slumped forward slightly, letting out a shuddering sob.

"Let me fix it," Kiril said softly.