With less than a week to spare before the Lunar Festival, Issinia had found the sheer amount of activities around the house to be daunting. Despite the fact that the Swiftfoot household was comprised by only four members - five if Issinia counted herself - there was still a high amount of activity in the lead up to the festivities. In previous years, she'd usually arrived just before the holiday itself and had been spared all the preparations. This year, however, she was in the thick of it.
Since her aunt and uncle were both retired aside from volunteer work, they'd devoted themselves mostly to the community as a whole. How people who also worked full time managed to prepare for the Lunar Festival in a night elf city, Issinia had no idea. As the single biggest holiday that the faction celebrated - furbolgs, dark trolls and immigrant outlanders included - the occasion required a measure of preparation. Druids spent their time growing ferns, nightshade and willow trees at a fast rate for distribution, as the plants were often used in both decorations and meals around that time of year; Issinia herself had once taken the challenge of ingesting heavily watered down nightshade, a feat usually reserved for rowdy huntresses in their lodges.
In addition, public efforts to prepare were also well underway. Banners and streamers were hung by people of all ages, lining all the rope bridges and branch beams that formed the upper, open air levels of the city. Pamphlets were handed out regarding both public and private gatherings, and people rushed to buy ingredients, gifts and new clothes as retailers found they couldn't restock their shelves quickly enough.
Issinia's task, however...well, she couldn't ever have enough of it. Why Unelia had chosen the path of a simple archer, training at the huntress lodge instead of the temple complex, was beyond Issinia. What she was able to participate in under Unelia's tutelage was far more fascinating in her eyes.
One of the favorite activities for Lunar Festival was the hanging of the lanterns. Much like the lampposts conjured along the highways and roads between towns, the lanterns for the Lunar Festival were conjured by priestesses. Drawn from the rocks of the planet, the basic encasing for the lanterns were raised out from the ground using the powers granted by the moon, and then shaped with the arches common to their people. The blue, wisp like light was likewise conjured and wouldn't die out until ordered to, and the chains that suspended the lanterns - if necessary - were also raised from the metals and minerals of the soil. At the end of the holiday, those lanterns were magically dismantled and their natural components returned to the soil from whence they came, melding back into the environment and leaving no trace.
The process was laborious and had to be repeated every year, but that was part of the fun. And as Issinia felt her aunt's watchful eyes observing her work in the practice yard of the temple complex, she felt an upswell of pride.
Despite being very short, Unelia was still the spitting image of Issinia's mother, Cecilia - the two were almost like carbon copies of each other despite the huge height difference. Dark indigo hair was the only difference - despite being younger, Cecilia had already gone grey and dyed azure streaks into her locks. Unelia, however, had retained the family's original color, and her hair was the same shade as Issinia's. Of course, it was of a different texture being purely elven; Issinia's was more of a mane than hair, and like a troll's, it grew all the way down the back of her neck as if specially designed for a mohawk. She shaved the back of her neck, of course, though she couldn't do anything about the texture, and always felt jealous of her aunt. Even Unelia's uneven gait, which had been caused by an old accident and required her to walk with a stick, evoked an aura of old elven wisdom that seemed unspoiled by all the numerous changes that had taken the world across the previous decades.
"Focus...don't think about the walls, don't think about the other trainees, don't think about me," Unelia said, her voice soft like wind chimes. "Focus...be the starlight...make it your hands and shape the stone."
The lantern floated in front of where the both knelt on the grass of the training yard, its shape rough and unrefined. Part of the dirt remained exposed after the stone had risen up from the ground, and grassy soil twirled in the shape of a conical pyramid beneath it. A few rocks and leaves orbited the lantern, like planets in a celestial globe, twirling as the silvery blue light moved around and molded the stone surface of the lantern like clay.
"Oh...I can feel it on my thumb...when I press like this," Issinia chuckled quietly, wiggling her thumb in the air and watching as a thumbprint pushed around a hard lump of stone on the lantern as if it was butter. "It's so weird...I feel my entire palm touching wherever the light runs over the surface of the lantern."
"You'll be able to carry it around like this, given more practice, my niece. It isn't like the arcane magic found among our highborne cousins; you won't be able to move objects like a slothful wizard. Only for the creations of nature...gifts which we only shape, but do not originate ourselves...will you be able to use this ability."
While her aunt talked, Issinia rotated both of her hands until her palms faced the ground. Without even moving her hands upward, she watched as her willpower moved the wispy light upward toward the arched roof of the lantern. A slight pinch weakened one of the curved points of the five corners, and she had to spend a moment smoothing it out again.
"Don't rush," Unelia whispered, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. "Even when mortal, nature has granted us plenty of time...spending a little extra from that time is a freedom you've been blessed with."
"Of course, auntie...here...like this?" she asked, seeking approval as she used very slight finger movements to ease the blob of stone that she'd pushed near the tip of the arch back toward the roof itself.
She worked in silence when her aunt only nodded, understanding that she was only meant to work. When her energies were focused on the conjuration, she found herself unable to keep track of time. Focus was necessary, however, and she found herself able to perform a much more thorough job than she'd expected. When she felt she'd finished, however, she grinned and sucked air in between her teeth like all Hearthglen girls did, momentarily breaking her concentration.
"Yikes!" she yelped when the lantern stopped glowing and promptly fell to the ground. Bits of rock and leaves fell alongside it, landing on the conical pyramid of grassy dirt.
Unelia chuckled and waved her hand, willing the soil to become flat and even out again. "Don't worry, those lamps are quite sturdy. And the finish is usually difficult the first time around." Though her dexterity wasn't what it must have been during immortality, Unelia still reached for the lantern first, and pulled it into a standing position. "That's lovely for your first time...the Ancient of Lore near the cemetery asked me for another lantern the other day. Would you mind giving yours to it?"
Issinia's eyes lit up and flew open as wide as saucers. "Mind?! Auntie, there are so few ancients here...their branches are limited! It would truly be an honor! But do...do you really think it wouldn't mind a lantern conjured by a trainee?"
"Of course not, never," Unelia chuckled while leaning on her walking stick to stand back up. Issinia jumped up in a rush, helping her aunt to stand without even being asked. "The Ancient of Lore helps compile the city's local history...if you intend to become the High Priestess one day, then it would likely be honored to look back and say that it allowed you to hang your first lantern from one of its branches."
Blushing at the compliment that seemed almost fanciful, Issinia covered her mouth to laugh while lifting her lantern. "Auntie...now you're teasing me," she chortled.
Unelia tapped her stick on the ground and motioned for them to walk back over toward the trainee's storage hut. "Even the late Tyrande, goddess light her path, was a trainee once, as is the case with the current High Priestess. A new generation will always need to start somewhere...here, just inside," she said while pointing toward a cubby that had a temporary 'Swiftfoot' tag hanging on it to denote that Unelia had reserved the space for a relative.
"Of course, auntie." Once she'd stored her lantern until she felt ready to conjure the elven steel chains to hang it with, she began following her aunt toward the temple clinic. "It just seems so...so far away, and...where are we going now?"
Laughing at the teenager's change in topic, Unelia simply pointed toward the back entrance, amused by what must have seemed impatient to her. "You finished the first phase just in time...I have a regularly scheduled appointment to take a look at Delebria's hip on every Monday. Since you're here, this will be good practice for you."
The shaven hair follicles on the back of Issinia's neck raised. "Oh, um...well, alrighty then," she replied nervously, a number of thoughts floating through her mind.
She knew that her aunt was a volunteer healer at the temple, and large number of people visited regularly since - unlike Ratchet - healthcare was free in all Sentinel lands. Issinia also knew that while she was proficient in the martial aspects of her career - every priestess of the moon was expected to be able to lead a unit of sentinels into battle - her healing skills were subpar for her age. Such practice would likely benefit her, even if the appointment was a simple checkup; her class held the dual role of both smiting enemies and healing allies.
But...the patient was Delebria. Her mother and aunt's long time shield sister, and a woman who...lived with another woman. That was the most polite term Issinia could think of. In spite of her earlier failed debates with Corrianna on the topic, Issinia couldn't help but find Delebria and Niorith's lifestyle bothersome and erroneous. That Delebria even needed healing at all seemed a bit frivolous...although she was also older than biologically possible due to having been born during immortality, the woman was still only half of Unelia's age, and was physically in shape. She was living on disability payments due to a series of injuries that had sidelined her but...did she even need them? Wasn't she just milking the system?"
"Um...auntie?"
"Yes, dear?" Unelia asked as the two of them entered the clinic.
"Are we...does Delebria really need these sessions? I mean, she looks fine, honestly, and physically she doesn't look any older than Corrianna. Why does she come?"
Oblivious to the implication, Unelia only stopped briefly before opening the door to a private room. "Delebria looks young, but she's many millennia old; like myself, she will probably die of old age in a few decades and no more. These sessions are part of what keep her fit despite her injuries." Sweeping aside the oddly sturdy door that was made only of thick vines, she stepped inside. "Now, come. This will be a good lesson for...ishnu alah, Brie!"
Following her aunt inside, Issinia found the dark woman in question sitting cross legged on a little cot. Rare for a night elf, Delebria's skin and hair were the exact same color, a dark lavender hue that fit in so well among the shadows of the Ashenvale Forest. "Uni, I haven't seen you all week," the retired nightblade replied, bowing from the bed without actually rising up.
"I know...it seems that the entire city is busy with the preparations." Unelia laid her walking stick against the wall and pulled up a large cushion to sit on as she faced Delebria. The second cushion she pulled up caused Issinia to grow anxious. "Brie, you remember my niece Issa from two years ago, right?"
Looking at Issinia and then the empty cushion, the woman seemed to send a subconscious order for the trainee priestess to sit, which she did reluctantly. Delebria had an odd habit of sneering when she was happy instead of just smiling like a normal person, or a sort of sneer smile that she might have found to be some sort of a trendy signature expression. Perhaps it seemed endearing to her friends, but it made gauging her true reactions difficult.
"Yes, I remember...greetings, Issa," Delebria said a bit dryly and without her usual zest. "When will your mom arrive?"
"Probably in a week, just toward the last few days of the festival."
"Wonderful, Nior was so busy rounding up the drunks that she didn't have time to see your family last time. This year she negotiated the whole holiday off and had two youngbloods agree to cover for her."
I know what you two do! Issinia found a voice inside of her head hissing. "Lovely, it will be nice to have a miniature reunion of Serenity Grove."
Giving her a congenial nod, Delebria then turned back to Unelia to discuss her medical issues. "I didn't feel any pops or clicks this week, and to be honest that makes me nervous. Usually I can feel something, at least when walking up the ramp to our apartment."
"Don't worry so much; no news is good news. Now, we'll need to check your left hip flexor as a precaution. Would you consent to allowing a trainee to practice her skills by feeling for any disturbances?"
In an act of self control she didn't even know was possible for herself, Issinia prevented her eyes from flying open like saucers large enough for a mountain giant's tea cups. "Sure, I don't mind giving someone else a break at all," Delebria replied...before she started to actually slide her leather breeches down her legs, leaving only her underwear covering her lower half.
If Issinia's heart had thumped any faster, her eyes would have popped out. Her aunt actually wanted her to...touch...Delebria? A woman who laid with another woman? Utter shock smacked her in the face, but before she knew it Delebria had already laid down on the cot, resting her head on the pillow nonchalantly.
Unelia poked Issinia's foot to gain her attention. "So Issa, you'll want to focus merely on what you can feel over your fingertips, like what you did with Eli's wrist the other day. Since you're still practicing, try closing your eyes and actually making contact between the patient's skin and your fingers," she said while pointing toward Delebria's hip with her nose.
"Oh...okay," Issinia replied as casually as she could. Willing her fingers not to tremble as she feared arousing something inside of the woman on the cot, she slowly pressed downward until she could feel Delebria's hip beneath her hand. "Is that too hard?" she asked with her eyes closed.
"Don't worry, young one; you don't live for a few thousand years without toughening up a bit," Delebria chortled.
There wasn't a hint of awkwardness in the woman's voice, though Issinia still felt as stiff as a treant in a Desolace dust storm. Pressing inside with her magic, she tried to 'see' the anatomy of the woman and ignore her own fears of what sort of debauchery probably took place in Delebria's apartment. Contrary to what she'd worried about, the woman's breathing didn't change in rhythm nor did she start to do anything weird when Issinia touched her. It was as if she was...normal. Which didn't make sense in the trainee priestess' mind at all.
"I sense a series of...sheets. One after another...and they're worn out, but there isn't actually any damage," Issinia said, describing what she could 'feel' with her mind.
"Sounds like the vitamins you asked me to take have been paying off," Delebria chortled. The vibration of her light laughter broke Issinia's concentration, and the link was severed.
"Splendid...it would seem that there isn't much to do other than stay the course, then," Unelia replied while leaning back on her cushion. "I have to say, this may have been the shortest consultation I've ever had."
Delebria pulled her breeches back up and thankfully allowed her excessively long shirt (which was Niorith's size, yet another quality that's empt Issinia out of her comfort zone) to fall down toward her knees again as she sat up. "Me too...which I guess is a good thing, then? Thanks so much, Issa."
"Don't mention it," she replied while forcing herself to smile.
"Brie, are you going to be at the tea house later tonight? Your sister told me yesternight that she and her oldest wanted us all to meet up there. Her hubby will take their younger kids for a ride around that time, so it will be just us."
Furrowing her dark lavender eyebrows in mock anger, Delebria's face suddenly matched her sneer, if not her actual humor. "Vadia talks to you more than she does to me! I've seen her only once since she landed. Anyway, I'll be there in a few hours to let her have it...which is good, because I need to go grab a box of some things from Nior at work and drop it off at home about now." The three of them moved to stand, though the seemingly able bodied woman on disability payments put her arm on Issinia's shoulder as if they were...family, or something. "Issa, will you be coming along tonight, too? I'm sure my sister would like to see you again."
"Yeah, well, uh...let me check, I told somebody I'd help them with something around that time," she said, seeking an excuse not to go even though she felt guilty. "But I'll definitely try to come."
Delebria continued to flash her signature sneer, but a bit of the shine faded away. "Good to know," was her only reply before taking Unelia's walking stick and handing it to her. "I'll see you later for sure then, Uni?"
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Unelia replied with a grin as she followed Delebria outside, Issinia in tow. "Stay safe."
"You too."
The two of them watched the retired nightblade walk down the road toward the exit of the temple complex, her pace a bit slower than all of the attendants passing by. Once she'd returned to the city proper, Issinia felt her pent up frustration read to burst.
"Auntie, have you ever considered speaking to her about her lifestyle?" she asked innocently, trying to broach the topic indirectly.
Leaning on her staff and smiling irreverently, Unelia just continued to watch her former shield sister of some seven thousand years disappear into the dense thicket of inhabited trees just beyond the complex walls. "Hmm? Oh, I don't know, dear. Perhaps Brie doesn't use her time in the most efficient way, but who are we to judge?"
Confused at the roundabout summary, Issinia tried to push her luck a little bit further. "Well, that's one way to put it...but for infractions so serious, maybe she needs a good advising in order to set her straight," the teen suggested.
For a few seconds, Unelia pursed her lips and appeared to be deep in thought. And for those few seconds, Issinia actually got her hopes up.
"Alright, I guess I'll talk to her about her lifestyle, maybe if I can pull her aside from the others tonight."
Yes! Because that's how we roll! Issinia chirped internally, thinking that her aunt had been referring to the same topic as her.
Before she spoke again, Unelia had already started to walk toward the clinic to check for other people in need of medical care. "Honestly though Issa, I don't think her addiction to Hearthstone is all that bad."
Issinia did a double take and nearly fell over as she stumbled after her aunt. "Wha - wha - what?" she asked, absolutely flabbergasted.
"I mean, you seem to balance your playing between that, you the cards, and that other game you kids play with the dice. What's it called."
"Auntie, that's not..." She quickly shut up once they entered the clinic, finding themselves faced with a sentinel with a sprained ankle being helped inside by her shield sisters. "...never mind."
In the slightest of motions, Unelia turned her head toward Issinia, and she could have sworn that she saw a flash of realization flash in her aunt's eyes. "What? Were you referring to something else?" she asked curiously.
Her ship sat at the harbor, the wind pulled right out of its sails and her metaphors completely run dry. All her life, she'd viewed her aunt as the traditional, conservative woman upholding the religious and cultural traditions that her own mother was so lax and liberal about. Unelia was a volunteer healer at the main temple complex in the third largest night elven city on Azeroth, she had lived even before the discovery of arcane magic, she had been present for the inauguration of the current High Priestess, she was a proud, weathered Kaldorei woman. To see her permit a lifestyle that Issinia had come to believe that, based on her own reading, must be improper completely turned her views of her family on their head.
Confused as all hell, she followed her aunt into the clinic and tried to just repress the thoughts and imagine the sort of changes she'd enact of she really did become High Priestess one day. "No, of course not, auntie," she sighed in exasperation.