"Come, it's only a few more feet.", Pyravia encouraged, leading Illidan into their tent, removing his glaives from his back and sitting him down in the center. "Lay back.", she insisted, drawing the tent flaps shut as she sat down their weapons in the usual corner. He all but fell back, his wings splayed out haphazardly and limply. With a small sigh, she grabbed the ever-constant bowl of enchanted water and rag, and knelt next to him, gently brushing the stray hairs off his face. "I've seen you fight countless times, but I've never seen you become so..", the blood elf murmured, trailing off as she tugged his hair out of its customary tail, allowing his thick onyx locks to fan out around him. "Fiendish?", he weakly suggested, barely lucid and eyes falling shut. "Feral.", Pyravia offered, gazing softly down at him as she untied his blindfold and lifted it from his face. His eyes were slits, near shut, attempting to steal as many looks at his lover before they finally closed entirely.
"I.. must.. have.. my retribution... for you... and for.. myself", he choked out, before finally succumbing to his exhaustion and passing out. "If only I could hear your thoughts..", she mused, stroking his brow lovingly before soaking the cloth in the enchanted water, beginning to wash away the stains of war. Despite dodging most, if not all, of the doomguard Iruxos' blows, Illidan was covered in wounds ; Abrasions from the doonmguard's rough, erosive skin and bruises from where he had been kicked.. His hands were scraped and blemished, deep blooms of grey and purple forming around his fingers and knuckles, raw flesh around his wrists and palms.
"Slayer?", came a familiar voice, as a welcome figure entered the tent. "Archmage.", Pyravia remarked rather curtly, not turning to meet him as she cleansed her lover's body. "What happened?", Khadgar questioned, raising an eyebrow at the unconscious demon hunter. "I do not know. I've never seen him in such a state before, it was rage unlike any I've ever seen.", the Slayer confessed. Rage unlike any I've ever seen was certainly worrying coming from the Illidari leader, given that her entire life revolved around destruction of what she loathed and that she herself was consumed with hatred and anger... but not to the extent that her master appeared to be.
"Is he alive?", the Archmage pressed, kneeling next to the Sin'dorei. "Yes.. He has expended much of the energy within him though.", Pyravia explained, wringing the cloth into the bowl of liquid. "It'll take a few days to replenish.."

"It is the curse of the demon hunter, is it not?", Khadgar wondered aloud, analyzing the Betrayer's uncovered face. "One could claim such a thing, I suppose. It is something we all share in, not even he is above it.", she muttered, finally turning and looking upon the Archmage. "Was there something you needed?", the Illidari snapped, becoming agitated at his presence. "Ah, yes, I became a bit sidetracked, didn't I?", Khadgar exclaimed, ignoring the Slayer's harsh tone and removing an item from the satchel at his. "You left this near the doomguard's corpse. I figured you would want it back."
The human handed over the Shattered Abyss mask to its owner, offering a small smile as he stood and turned to leave. "Oh, and one more thing... Report at sunrise tomorrow, it is time for a war council.", he called over his shoulder, stealing one last glance at the two elves before departing.
As the moon rose over the Broken Shore , Pyravia was shaken out of light sleep as she felt a well-known hand grasping at her leg. She had fallen asleep, with her head in her knees, at Illidan's side. "Dalah'surfal.", he rasped, quieting as she woke and drew closer to him. The Kal'dorei shakily wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him with surprising strength. "I am here.", she whispered, gazing into the dimmed eyes that seemed to only be able to stay open for moments at a time. "I.. cannot.. see.", he growled, curling his fingers in frustration. "I am here.", Pyravia repeated, taking the Kal'dorei's free hand and placing it upon her sharp cheek. His thumb traveled up and down, her short hair brushing against his knuckles as he found her brow. His expression softened as he felt her features, calmed by her presence.

She was the key to serenity, to throwing off his imperious, awe-inspring outer self and allowing his inner self to flow forth. The possessive, defensive, hot-blooded and smart-mouthed man that lie within was only awakened by her touch. The commanding, mercurial, resentful and bitter self that all of Azeroth knew only ever dissipated in her presence, beneath her fingers and pacified by the very sound of her voice. She knew both sides of him, she adored both sides, she eased the bitterness but stoked the possessive rage. She mediated the torment and the pain but fueled his need to protect and preserve that which he loved. She was the stalwart devotee and servant, ever willing to give herself completely to the one who held her in the very center of his heart.