"Roberts."
The voice came from behind where Roberts had seated himself, near the door leading down to the tavern's meager stocks of ale and molding bread. While there were a few crates of decent food, it was reserved for any breathing customers who might stumble upon the little dump. Not that many did. Most simply took one look and back away slowly, trying desperately not to make eye contact with the barkeep, who watched them listlessly, already knowing that he wouldn't be getting their coin.
Roberts didn't bother to look to see who it was lurking in the shadows. He recognized the metallic ring in the voice easily enough. "Lucas."
Lisp paused. He wasn't used to people using his real name. Well, not since Haa'aji had dubbed him Lisp, a poor joke tracing back to the days before his metallic lower jaw, when his tongue had hung limp against his throat, and any words he'd attempted to form came out as mere grunts or gurgles. So far as Lisp could tell, somehow in Haa'aji's warped mind, he had equated such struggles of communicating as speaking with a lisp. In truth the troll had still been learning common from Liila and had thought he was using the word correctly. Once he'd found out otherwise, the nickname had already stuck.
Lisp dropped into a chair beside Roberts and eyed his fellow rogue, his knit brow giving away his concern. "I don't have much time…someone's always watching, you know."
Roberts didn't move, didn't breathe. For a moment, Lisp wondered if rot had overtaken his fellow rogue, but then he remembered that this was just Roberts' way of telling him to get to his point and get out.
"For the next few weeks, I need you to stay true to our Lady's cause, alright?"
"When do I not?" Roberts turned his yellowed gaze toward Lisp slowly. He tried not to show his look of contempt for his former guild mate, though he was sure Lisp already knew how he considered him a traitor. He wouldn't be much of a rogue if he couldn't gather such obvious information.
"There are rumors going around about Impervious," Lisp said quickly, though he paused as Roberts simply resumed staring straight ahead, his boney fingers laced together where they rested on the table in front of him, next to an empty ale. "You and I both know how much truth is behind them."
Roberts didn't respond.
With an exasperated sigh, Lisp ran his fingers over his face once before leaning toward Roberts. "Orders are going to come down soon sending you off somewhere where you won't be able to help Impervious. Haa'aji's going to get assigned a hit from the Shattered Hand sending him somewhere far from Orgrimmar, and Howl's going to have his hands tied as well." He paused to see if Roberts would ask him any questions. When he didn't, Lisp glanced around, growing frustrated.
Of course no one would listen to him, especially after he'd left the guild without so much as a word to any of them. He could have handled it better, had he not been so panicked at the time. As it was, he'd quietly crossed his name off the roster and slipped out. The guild had just assumed that he had gone off on one of his black ops missions when he didn't show up for meetings and the like…until they'd seen him strutting through town, the newest member of Blood and Honor.
Margaret and a few others still counted him a friend, though Gregor wouldn't even talk to him anymore. Of all the people who shunned him, Gregor was definitely the worst. In life, they'd owned farms side by side. They'd looked after each others' crops when one fell ill. Their wives had babysat each other's children.
In some ways he felt he deserved the ill treatment. Especially after what had happened in Stranglethorn. So far as he knew, only Haa'aji and Roberts knew about the incident—his reason for leaving the guild—and he prayed to whatever force might be looking out for the world that Gregor would never learn of it. It was the only favor he asked of the gods or Light or whatever and hoped dearly that it would be considered a small enough gift to grant.
Lisp rose to his feet, though he paused to lean toward Roberts. He ignored the dagger that pressed lightly against his neck, Roberts' hint that such close proximity was unwelcome. "For the next few weeks, don't go down to Stormwind to check on Gregor's family, don't slip into battles and help Alliance escape, don't do anything that could paint you in a bad light. After the attack on Orgrimmar, he's looking for a reason to make an example out of your lot."
Even as Roberts straightened up and turned to look at Lisp, the rogue was gone.
Before he could decide to settle back into his seat, a dreadguard strode into the tavern, empty eye sockets scanning the room before stopping on him. The woman walked up to Roberts and held out a thin, crinkled piece of paper. As soon as he had a grip on the parchment, the woman turned on her heels, calling over her shoulder, "Our Lady wishes you to be on your way by midnight. No later."
The woman's exit was somewhat diminished when she narrowly escaped a flaming door as Timmons blew it clear off its hinges. Roberts frowned as the warlock strode up to him, flames still flickering at his fingertips. He needed to find a new place to relax. Too many people knew to find him here.
"Where the hell is Mitchell?"
~"~
Roberts sat at the bottom of a lake in Gilneas, hoping that the muddy waters would hide him. The worgen were getting much more organized and, with their noses, it had to be easy, even alone, to hunt a corpse. Lady Sylvanas would not be pleased with his report. Timmons might be, though.
Timmons was a native born Gilnean, who had moved to Lordaeron with his mother when he was a child. While Roberts had never bothered to look far into Timmons' past—no further than why he always kept his hood up, anyway, and that had been a huge disappointment—he did know that Timmons' father still resided in Gilneas and that the warlock loathed him with a passion. He'd probably be thrilled to know his father had either become a beast or been devoured by one.
Roberts wondered if Timmons had made it back from the Arathi Highlands yet. After Mitchell had tossed him through the portal, Roberts had swung by the warlock coven and taken the grand warlock to the side, requesting that he not summon Timmons anytime soon. While he liked Timmons as much as anyone could, Roberts knew that he was a loose cannon. If there really was an investigation into Impervious going on, it would be better for everyone if Timmons was absent. Not that he was an Alliance sympathizer. He wasn't an anything sympathizer.
Rubbing his leg, Roberts pushed thoughts of his guild out of his mind. He'd worry about them after he found a way back to forsaken territories. Right after he got his leg back from the damned worgen.
He rubbed the end of his severed limb as he glared up at the surface of the water, wondering what he was going to have to do to fix this. Some undead might be content to replace their limbs using whatever was nearest or most convenient, but he somewhat prided himself in still being one hundred percent Roberts.
A warbled howl drifted down to him, and he lay lower into the mud, biding his time….
~"~
Sometimes it was hard for Haa'aji to believe that he had once been a proud Amani warrior. Rather, it seemed like that life had been a dream. His early years of training, of learning to hone his rage into an unstoppable force seemed surreal.
Even then, he'd wanted to be a rogue. Ever since, as a boy, he'd seen a quel'dorei rogue escape from his village with vital intelligence on a planned Amani assault. The elf had been so quick, so lithe, so silent. Prior to that moment, Haa'aji hadn't realized creatures could be so majestic.
From then on, he'd turned his interests toward rogue training. However, the Amani order refused to take him in. In retrospect, Haa'aji had to admit that at the time he would have made a poor shadow stalker. He was still too used to throwing himself haphazardly into combat, too used to letting the thrill of battle overtake his senses until all that was left was blood lust.
It had been his months struggling to survive in the Plaguelands which had finally broken his warrior spirit, allowing him to settle into the calmer demeanor of a rogue. Slipping past death knights and ghouls, abominations and gargoyles, he learned to be calm, collected. Not to panic at a misstep, but merely to stay quiet and move quickly.
His foot falls ceased to echo his presence and ambitions, instead replaced with mere silence. He learned to bury his fear in those forsaken woods. That it was pointless to be afraid of death when it walked all around him. If he failed, he failed. If not, well…if not he'd be able to keep wondering if he was actually heading toward a non-plagued part of the world, if such a thing still existed.
It was like another life.
Had Haa'aji still held his warrior traits, the druid who found him in Darnasus would have easily taken him down or at the very least, killing him would have alerted guards, and he would have had the whole of the kaldorei capital hunting him with new found rage.
As a rogue, it was easy for him to slip out of the elf's grasp, step around behind him, and snap his neck. While he supposed that light left all creatures' eyes when they were ended, he hated the way any elf's eyes blanked. It reminded him of Liila's first death, before he'd known, she was incapable of staying dead.
That was why he always tried to kill any elf he might face from behind. It was a good strategy for any creature, really. But when he saw that light flicker out, allowing him to see the glossy, dull surface of their eyes, it made him shudder. It made that whisper of a warrior in him cry out.
Haa'aji offered a quick prayer for the druid and then took the man's bags. He didn't wait near the corpse, but rather slipped through the shadows, up into the trees, where he could move more easily. It amazed him that the kaldorei still seemed unaware of how easily trolls could move through tree tops. And it made it so much easier to avoid them when they were too busy patrolling their worn streets.
When he couldn't make out any of the roads or windows—he figured he had to have made his way out into the wilder parts of Teldrassil—he reached up to one of the smaller earrings on his ear. At a glance, most would just think that he enjoyed the look of a piercing or two, but in truth, there wasn't a scrap of cloth or link of chain on him that didn't serve some purpose.
He drummed his fingers against the trinket as he made his way south.
Just as Haa'aji paused to inspect the trinket, to make sure it was the right one he wanted, the world around him darkened as something flew down through the canopy overhead.
Haa'aji watched the black drake circle him once before landing to his side and taking the form of a human man. It watched him with an amused look, standing perfectly still, its arms limp at its sides.
Haa'aji hated doing this. However, there was little point in wasting time with regret, as he was needed elsewhere. Donning an impressed expression, Haa'aji clapped his hands together twice in mock applause. "Ya dragons sure know how ta make a entrance, yeh?"
"If I'd known that was all I needed to do to repay you, I'd have dropped by to visit ages ago," the man replied. His voice was wrong. Dark, cold, like something that was horribly out of tune, so badly so that whatever it had once been was lost completely.
A few leaves nearest the dragon were beginning to wither as though too close to a fire, embers sparking and smoking. Haa'aji sauntered over and extinguished one with his fingers before it could erupt into flames. He looked back at the dragon, a half grin on his face. "If it been dat simple, Ah'd a called for ya ages ago."
"Well, I'm a fan of anticipation as much as the next doomsayer, but do tell what I need to do to get you off my back once and for all."
"Funneh ya should phrase it dat way," Haa'aji couldn't help as his grin became genuine. "Ah be needin' a ride."
~"~
Liila dropped the last of her things into her bag and shouldered it, pausing to watch as Cinder sprawled out on her bed. the druid rolled over onto her stomach, carefully brushing the wrinkles out of the sheets beneath her. "Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?"
"You spent an hour today crying after you saw an imp," Liila murmured. She placed a hair tie on the edge of her bed and began to bunch her hair up. Before she could pick up the tie, she saw that Cinder had taken it and was winding it slowly around her fingers. "Yesterday you said that that elven warlock at the auction house felt like Nimlia and spent the night crying on my favorite pillow."
Cinder frowned. "You should be supportive of me during my suffering."
"I just don't think it would be good for you to wander around a capital where they spend their leisure tapping demonic energies…or whatever it is that they do."
Tilting her head to the side, Cinder sat up so that she was resting on her knees. "You don't know what it is they do? What kind of fail elf are you?"
Liila chose to dismiss the comment, as it was most likely a result of Cinder's depression, though the druid did, on occasion, lash out for no apparent reason. Regardless of whether it was heartbreak or her typical nature, Liila knew better than to take it personally. Liila plucked her hair tie from Cinder's grasp, some of the hair closest to her face falling out of the ponytail she was holding. "Please remember that you agreed to house sit. Unless Whisper, Margaret, or I come back, do not leave the house alone at night."
"I know."
"Do not let Wrachette house sit. She had a bunch of disclaimer forms she wanted me to sign, and I don't think watching someone's house should be that complicated."
Cinder slouched forward. "I know."
"Do not let Enlyhn or Timmons into the house. They have a game of cursing different household objects and seeing how long it takes us to find them. If Haa'aji comes back before I do—he should—do not let him upstairs. Whisper's still sore about the last trinket he stole from her."
"Allegedly stole, I'm guessing?"
Liila rolled her eyes. "When does anyone ever catch Haa'aji stealing something?"
"Point," Cinder swung her feet off the bed and hopped up. "Don't worry so much. I will guard the fort. None shall pass." She eyed Liila for a moment before cocking her head. "So…I know it's not my business really, which makes it more interesting… but why the hell are you taking the zeppelin? Can't you just yell about how the elves are always mean to you and demand a summons? Or someone here to give you a port?"
Liila checked her belongings one last time. "Wren's brother is being a pain, and he commanded his coven not to summon any—"
"High elf traitors?" Cinder offered.
"I was going to say 'any of Wren's friends'," Liila said, her voice flat. She tugged on the sleeve that covered her scars, wondering briefly if they still emitted any type of latent magic. The sin'dorei picked up on magic better than she did, and she didn't want their attention drawing to her imperfections. They'd be giving her a hard enough time as it was. "This is supposed to be a quiet sort of visit, so they don't want to announce my presence to the whole city. If they arranged a portal for me, then they'd have to make sure everyone who might be there would know not to skewer the high elf. Then it would get out that I was coming and that could cause problems."
Cinder opened her mouth to ask why this Magister Lightsarrow didn't just come to Orgrimmar, but decided against it. She'd heard that the sin'dorei were xenophobic. And even if that wasn't the reason, she doubted that Liila knew it.
"And you're sure you want to go alone?"
Liila took in a slow breath, wondering if this was the powers-that-be's way of warning her not to go. She dismissed the notion as her own nerves playing tricks on her. She was concerned that taking such a roundabout trip would give the mysterious spy tapping into the guild stones a chance to get to her, but then…if he could get onto a Horde zeppelin while they traversed the sea, she figured he probably deserved a shot at her. While the guild had gone silent in regards to their stones for the most part, Liila had continued to use hers to speak with Sethyl and Wren.
And a small part of her sort of wanted to meet this spy. After all, what would be the worst he could do? Kill her?
"I won't be alone," Liila replied as she finally started off on her journey. "Wren and Sethyl will be there. They're…good elves. Besides, the week will give them time to tie up any lose ends."
~"~
Liila sat on the deck of the zeppelin, watching the clouds roll by, the wind slowly sucking them toward the outer reaches of the maelstrom. The dirigible was safe where it was, but she always liked to watch the clouds regardless, half wondering what it would be like to visit the hellish, churning waters. Rumor was that being near the maelstrom was intoxicating, hundreds of times more so than Felwood. She was curious to see if she could get lost in the magic there, if only for a little while. It seemed like it would be fun.
And maybe if she immersed herself in such powerful spells, they would wash away the ones that bound her. Or they might rip her apart.
She frowned, almost missing the soft chime of her guild stone. She drew it from her pocket and tapped it once to see who it was who had messaged her. Sethyl.
You're on your way, right?
Liila sighed and scrawled out an affirmative. She hesitated, but began to add a short message about not wanting to speak using the stones too much. However, Sham had taught the two of them how to send personal messages, rather than ones broadcast to all of the stones when they'd first tried to get back in touch with Liila. As a result, she doubted that the Alliance rogue who had everyone so worried would be able to eavesdrop. If he could, then he'd made friends with someone from the black dragon flight. That would present problems of a whole other nature.
Years ago, when she and Haa'aji had headed to Silithus, they'd stumbled across two black drakes being attacked by cultists. It had been during her less stable time, and when they'd pleaded with her to help them, she'd been brought back to the horrors of the Plaguelands, of the people Bloodsworn had tortured besides her, who had pleaded that she aid them, unaware that she couldn't lift a finger unless she was ordered to. She'd had to help them.
And Haa'aji? He'd wanted a mount. In thanks, the drakes had offered them two stones, saying that they could call upon them for assistance. It was merely to settle the score, and Liila's had been used—wasted in Haa'aji's opinion—only days later after the trials and tribulations of Silithus proved too bizarre. And then, in an odd twist of fate, they'd ended up saving the drakes a second time, this time with Timmons and two Cenarion druids. As a result, the drakes owed all of them a favor, Haa'aji two.
Liila thought that it was odd that drakes from the black flight would be so willing to help mortals, but Haa'aji had said he had a feeling they were trying to cover something up. To keep them quiet about the presence of any dragons in Silithus, aside from a few from the bronze flight.
She still sometimes wondered what they'd been up to, were still up to, really. Regardless, it that been those stones that they'd given them which had inspired the guild stones. The draconic ones had been simpler, tap them a few times, and the drakes would know to come. It had been Mitchell who'd figured out how to make them able to transmit full sentences.
Even now, he occasionally harassed everyone for their stones so that he could add small pieces to his spell. Like the ability to direct messages to just one person instead of everyone.
Thus, it was unlikely that there was anyone in the Alliance, or Horde for that matter, who could decipher all of the intricacies of their communications.
Before she could decide whether to send Sethyl a warning to keep their conversation minimal, her stone chimed again.
Everything's set up.
He went on, telling her the exact date and time for her dreaded/anticipated meeting. Liila stared at her stone, rubbing her finger against its side absentmindedly. She wanted to ask him if he really thought this was a good idea, but stopped herself as her stone chimed again.
Wren really did most of the work. Pretty much all I've done is relay information.
Liila cocked her head. She didn't understand elves. Was he telling her this hoping that she would reassure him that he was needed? Or was he just stating a fact? Was he downplaying his role? Or trying to make Wren sound more helpful than he'd been?
She twisted her mouth into a half frown as she realized she wished he were with her. If he were sitting next to her, she'd be able to read his face easily. He really wore his heart on his sleeve. She could picture the way his eyebrow twitched when he was indignant or annoyed and the corners of her lips tugged upward in a slight smile.
Her stone chimed again.
Are you there?
Yes. Liila sighed as she realized she still had no clue what to say. Thank you.
Before she could write out that while it drove her crazy not knowing if the ring was hers and that at least the suspense would be over soon enough, Sethyl sent her another message.
I guess you're busy. I'll talk to you when you get here.
How had he gotten so fast at writing? She was generally pretty fast at sending messages herself, but he was beating her. She considered asking him to keep talking to her, but the shadows rolling over the waters below reminded her that that had been the exact thing she'd been hoping to avoid only minutes earlier. She wished him well and slipped the stone back into her pocket, looking back toward the maelstrom, though her thoughts stayed on what was to come.
~"~
Wren took in a slow, steady breath as he stared down the practice dummy, his bow ready, arrow notched. Why had he stayed in Silvermoon for almost two whole weeks? Couldn't he have set things in motion and then gone back to Orgrimmar? It amazed him that he was already as fond of the orcish city as he was, though he supposed that he enjoyed being anywhere his family wasn't.
However, he figured it would be better to get this mess dealt with before they headed to Northrend, and if Sethyl and Liila had to go through all the proper channels, it would take them months to gain a proper audience. All Wren had had to do was call in a few favors. He'd noticed that Sethyl had seemed a bit uncomfortable with how much their arrangements hinged on Wren's connections, but then, Wren had trained with Lor'themar and the captain of the guard. And being the grandson of the grand warlock of Silvermoon did have a few perks, though they didn't quite make up for having a completely dysfunctional family.
Besides, Liila would come tomorrow, find out if this Magister Lightsarrow was her former teacher or not, and then they could both be on their way.
"Wren."
He let his arrow fly into the target, nailing it in the middle of its sack face, before lowering his weapon and turning to see who had called him. A frown planted itself on his face as Jaserisk Dawningblade eyed the target dummy and offered him a compliment on his aim.
Jaserisk was the captain of the guard, whom Wren was finally squaring a debt with. Almost four years ago, some rather bizarre events had led to Wren saving Jaserisk from his brother's best friend. The offender, Gryst'lyn Emberdawn, had blamed Jaserisk for the disappearance of his fiancé. She'd been one of the first to fall to the Scourge, and had actually been on a patrol with Jaserisk when she went missing. She'd been a childhood friend of the captain or some such, and rather than recognizing that both of them had lost someone dear to them, Gryst'lyn had accused Jaserisk of treachery. Wren had been the one to stay his blade, and Jaserisk had sworn he owed Wren ever since.
Wren had constantly told him not to fret over such things. However now, pulling the strings to get a high elf into the city had to count for something, and Wren was hoping that this would make them even. While Jaserisk was not a bad man, there was something about him that made Wren uneasy, though he could never place what.
Jaserisk was a handsome man, somehow always escaping his battles without so much as a scrape. His blonde hair fell down his back and spilled over his shoulders as he came to stand in front of Wren, still eyeing the dummy.
That he was there when he should have been either going over who the guard would be to escort Liila or already done with the planning of the odd little event was not a good sign.
"I don't suppose you can push back Miss Liila's arrival for about…five hours, can you?"
Wren and Sethyl had made a point not to tell anyone Liila's last name, for fear that people wouldn't take them seriously if they started talking about knowing a Dragonlily, whether she was the legend or not. Wren shrugged. "Why?"
"I have a patrol coming back from the Ghostlands, and they need to be debriefed before they rest." Jaserisk hesitated. "And even if they have little to talk about, I'd rather not risk having some of them mulling about the Sunspire when your friend is to arrive. If one should be coming to see me and have not gotten word to allow her presence, it could go very poorly for your friend." He gave Wren a half grin. "I'd also like a chance to freshen up after dealing with my men, since a few of the ones coming in find themselves tripping over the rules or taking shortcuts that leave piles of bodies ripe for the Scourge to pluck and add to their armies. I may need to yell at them, but I don't need to look like I've been in a fickle mood, especially when escorting a high elf around."
"Wait, you're seeing to Liila's escort personally?" Wren frowned. He'd assumed that there would merely be a guard or two sent along with him and Sethyl.
It was Jaserisk's turn to frown. "The only reason Lor'themar is allowing your little friend into the city is because I told him I would be responsible for her. You'd better believe I'm going to be there."
Wren eyed him for a moment and then nodded, not sure why such a matter would bother him. "I see."
"You have a problem with that?" Jaserisk's voice trailed off as he watched his fellow farstrider. "I may have no love of the quel'dorei, but I promise you, I will not harm another member of the Horde. We do not need them to rescind their offers of aid because of a single creature."
As Wren nodded, Jaserisk turned to leave. "You said five hours later?"
"That's the longest it should take, yes," Jaserisk paused. "You…Adrias said your guild communicates fast enough to be able to get word to her, correct?"
Wren nodded again, and the captain gave him a half wave before striding off to tend to whatever duties might be awaiting him. Wren waited until Jaserisk was out of sight before reaching into his pocket for his guild stone. He stilled as his fingers fished through the cloth and found nothing. He felt his other pockets and then patted down his shirt as though it had somehow fallen in there.
As his eye twitched, he searched his quiver and then barely took the time to gather his cloak before hurrying home to check his bags. Surely he hadn't lost his stone.
~"~
Adrias Duskflame frowned as the woman he'd been playfully stripping gasped and jerked her shirt back up to cover her ample bosom. The warlock turned his gaze slowly to see Wren standing in his doorway, looking ready to kill something. Even as the woman tried to decide whether she ought to say it was rude to barge in like that or that she supposed she could be persuaded into a three-way, Wren stalked over to the bed and grabbed Adrias by his robe, which was barely resting on his shoulders.
"What did you do with my things?"
"Your things? Can't say that I've done anything with them. Though…there are a few things I'd like to play with at the moment…If you don't mind," Adrias gave the woman a wink, and she bit her lip so as not to laugh.
"The stone you took from my bags. I need it back." Wren tried to fight the urge to just put an arrow between his brother's eyes. Fratricide was illegal, after all.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Adrias said, his expression growing bored. Wren shook him once, and his long black hair fell into his face. As he irritably reached up to brush it away, he set his jaw. "I don't see why you have to blame me for everything you lose."
Wren caught the jibe. Adrias was referring to his wife, who the damnable warlock had bedded the night after they'd been married. Adrias took everything from Wren. The farstrider took in a slow, angry breath. "I need to talk to Liila—" He cut himself off as he considered he would be telling his brother the correct time. "I need to tell her about a few laws that she might not be aware of, and it would be best to get it out of the way before she gets here."
"Well," Adrias jerked his robe free from Wren's grasp and settled back onto his bed, leaning against his elbows, "wish I could help you, but I don't know anything about any stone."
Wren watched him for a moment, eyes narrowed, before shaking his head. "I want it back. If I catch you with it, I will hurt you." Even as Adrias laughed at the thought of his baby brother kicking his ass, Wren stalked back toward the door, though he paused, his hand on the door knob.
"Oh, miss?" When the elven lady gave him a curious look, he motioned with his chin toward his brother. "To get off, he pretends you're a man."
Wren ducked out of view and slammed the door before Adrias could hit him with a curse, even as the elf turned a wide-eyed look to the seething warlock.
~"~
Tyan Dawnslight grinned as she darted up behind Sethyl and put her hands over his eyes. "Guess who!"
"Tyan." Sethyl grinned as she pulled her hands away and turned to face her. Her curly brown hair framed her face as she smiled broadly up at him, her green eyes dancing.
"It's great to see you! You're never around anymore!" She looped her arm with his, and he laughed as he offered her that he was in a guild, of all things. Even as she commented that he must be having fun, to have dropped off the face of Azeroth as he had, a few other paladins trotted up, equally thrilled to see their brother in arms. Playful insults and greetings were tossed around as the group caught up.
While Sethyl listened and laughed to a story of farstrider/blood knight rivalry from a towheaded man named Ralarr Sunbreeze, Tyan hugged Sethyl's arm and leaned against him. She'd had a thing for him since they'd first started training together to become paladins, and now that she'd found him in town, she sure as hell wasn't going to let him go without at least a night of flirtatious drinking and nostalgia.
"It's so awesome that you're in town." She beamed as the conversation lulled. She and the others had been heading back into the city from a patrol through Eversong to make sure the Scourge wasn't making another attempt to push through. Their course back to their headquarters took them past the Sunblade's shop, and Tyan always stared at it longingly whenever she passed by, wondering what had become of her crush. To have seen him entering his shop as they were passing by. If she had a lucky star, it was watching over her tonight. "Your timing's perfect, you know. Another day and you'd have missed me. I'm heading out tomorrow to Orgrimmar."
"Oh?" Sethyl laughed, though he managed to hold his ground as she tried to tug him toward the door of the shop. The other knights seemed to have caught on to the fact that Tyan wanted to take Sethyl out on the town to celebrate all of them being together again, and they were all for it. Sethyl, on the other hand, wasn't up for staying up all night. While he enjoyed Tyan and Ralarr's company—the others too—he wanted to get plenty of rest so that he could be alert and a decent guard for Liila the next day, should that responsibility fall to him. "I don't think you'll like it there. It's horribly dry. You take a breath in, and it's like your lungs are getting cooked."
Tyan giggled and reached up to touch his hair. "Is that why you're sporting such a shaggy look now? The heat melts hair gel?"
Running his fingers through his hair, he frowned. When he'd gotten home, he'd found that he just didn't feel like being so high maintenance and had merely been letting it dry so that it fell across his forehead and against the nape of his neck. No one had mentioned anything when he'd gone with Wren to explain things to Captain Dawningblade or any of the others they'd consulted with. Had they thought him a slob?
"There you go, lost in thoughts, as usual," Tyan teased and tugged lightly on a few locks of his hair. "I like it. It's different."
Sethyl caught her hand and nodded to her, his smile still in place. "I don't suppose we could catch up in the morning, could we?"
Tyan paused, smile slipping. "Well, I'm leaving around noon—"
"Great timing. I'm meeting a friend about then. I could walk you to the orb." He put his hand on her back as he walked her toward the door of his father's shop. "Drop you off and pick her up."
Tyan froze at the word 'her'. The other paladins barely caught it, until they saw disappointment overtake her. Ralarr slung an arm around Sethyl's shoulders. "What, your new friends are more important than your old ones?"
"I didn't mean it that way," Sethyl replied automatically and then frowned as he tried to think of how best to approach the subject.
Tyan pulled away from him and ran her hand along her arm. "If he needs to be somewhere—"
"I just think…" Ralarr shrugged, locking gazes with Sethyl calmly. "I mean…you're willing to mold your schedule around her and not us?"
"No, not at all."
"Good," Ralarr slapped Sethyl on the back and caught Tyan under his other arm as one of the other paladins opened the door to the shop. "Come on. Just have a few drinks with us." He gave Sethyl a knowing grin. "We'll be sure to get you home in time to show your new friend around."
~"~
Wren knocked on the door to Sunblade's Jewelers and offered a quick apology as an older elf opened the door, looking somewhat disgruntled to have a visitor so late at night. However, as he saw the fine clothes Wren was sporting—clearly a noble's attire—he opened the door a bit further.
"How may I help you?"
"I'm looking for Sethyl Sunblade." Wren hesitated and glanced back at the sign over the door to the shop. "I know that his family owns a jewelry store, so I was hoping this was it…."
"Sethyl's my son," the older elf offered and stepped to the side, motioning for Wren to come in. He thanked whatever might be out there for the dim light of the room to hide his disappointment that his late visitor wasn't a customer. "You can wait for him if you'd like, though I don't know when he'll be home."
Wren paused, just inside the shop as the older elf closed the door. "He's out?"
"Mmhm," his host nodded and motioned for Wren to come upstairs to the residential part of the building. Wren followed politely, and the older elf led him into a small kitchen. "He said he'd be back in an hour four hours ago so…if I knew what bar I thought he might be, I'd tell you where to go." He paused to offer Wren something to drink, and the farstrider politely accepted tea. "He doesn't normally stay out late, so he should be home sooner than later."
"Alright, thank you," Wren took his cup and sipped slowly.
Silence settled over the two for a moment, the older elf having seated himself across from Wren. As the old house creaked with the wind, Wren noticed his host looked like he was debating asking him something.
"Is something on your mind?" Wren offered him the opportunity.
"I…don't suppose you're in my son's guild, are you?" When Wren nodded, the older elf perked up. "Can you…if it's not too much trouble, can you tell me how he's been? What he's been up to? He's such an odd young elf when it comes to his accomplishments. Hasn't said much about what he's been doing the last few months, aside from a few offhanded comments."
Wren smiled and nodded. "Well, I can tell you that he's been helping out our guild mate Liila…."
~"~
Adrias sat in his chair at his desk, leaning against one of the armrests with a hand covering his mouth as he stared at a small stone in front of him. Was this little trinket really worth having his evening ruined?
His latest conquest had been somewhat turned off—not by the notion of sleeping with a male elf who appreciated both genders, but rather because she didn't want to be with someone who wanted her as anything other than what she was. A lady.
As he considered whether he ought to break the stupid trinket and then plant it somewhere for Wren to find so that the pitiful excuse of a brother would be forced to apologize for jumping to conclusions, the stone suddenly flickered to life with a soft chime and he nearly missed the runes that flickered over its surface.
He jerked upright and leaned over the stone to see if they might reappear.
Wren? Are you there?
He tilted his head as he watched the runes flicker for a moment and then fade out. He pondered how the little device might work. If it was voice activated, he'd be screwed, but then…if it was voice activated, wouldn't he have heard one?
He hesitated another moment and then ran his finger over the stone, making sure to write in orcish.
Hey.
The word flickered and disappeared. A grin slowly spread across Adrias' pale features. He ran his finger across the stone again.
Sorry, I missed that. What did you say?
The stone was blank for a moment, and Adrias wondered if perhaps he were using it wrong. Just as he was about to give up and return to his plans to break it, it burst to life again with that ever so pleasant little chime.
I was wondering if everything is still in order for tomorrow. I tried asking Sethyl, but he's not responding to any of my messages.
Adrias couldn't believe his luck. This had to be that little Liila wench Wren and his common friend had been trying to help. He considered telling her that everything was canceled, but thought better of it. He was sure that Wren had mentioned she was a high elf to their grandfather when he'd initially tried to ask for the coven to summon her, before Adrias had insisted they not.
If she was a high elf…
Actually, the time was moved. Can you come an hour early?
~"~
Liila's shoulders slumped as the runes on her stone flickered out. An hour early? She'd been hoping, praying really, that they'd say that Lor'themar or Rommath or someone else who was important had been appalled at the thought of letting a high elf into their city and had killed the plans at the last minute.
One of the zeppelin's crew's snoring interrupted her sulking, and she glanced toward the little goblin. She wished Wren a pleasant night and slipped her stone back into her pocket after the sentiment was returned.
Slipping up onto the deck, Liila walked out toward the nose of the ship and let the cool shadows of the night overtake her senses as the wind fluttered her hair. She closed her eyes and felt the night engulf her, whisper to her, and lull away her worries, if only for a while. It was nice to take the zeppelin across the ocean from time to time. And this way, she wouldn't have to avoid Sylvanas by arriving at the portal point in Undercity. Surely, the Banshee Queen wouldn't be angry for her walking through the surface ruins of Lordaeron.
However, her mind was too active to let her be. Timmons wasn't answering any of her messages on his emergency stone. Haa'aji was still trying to get home from Darnasus, so far as she knew. Gregor had gone fishing to work through his frustrations about something Mitchell had done, and Mitchell had buried himself in his work. Whisper was still in Thunder Bluff, and Blood had gone after Leafless and Shadow to warn them about their stones. The knights had yet to return.
Enlyhn wasn't talking to anyone. While the coven war had ended rather anticlimactically, out of the public eye, just as it had started, the orc was still feeling like the guild just kept him around for his summons and was boycotting the whole lot of them. That or he was over it and had found a new playmate for a while. She couldn't contact Tizzle or Sprocket for fear that whoever was eavesdropping might catch wind.
Margaret was still in the Undercity, as far as Liila was aware. Sham, in turn, had decided to finally have them teach her a bit about the different potions so that Timmons and Haa'aji could no longer screw her over and it was her intention to spend some time shadowing Cinder, who was still a wreck from her break up. Cloudless and Wrachette were teaming up to look into the housing market, and Ta'lim and Gore would be busy with their jobs. Roberts was in a black out mission, not that she would have risked messaging him anyway, and Khai'rhi and Genji were too adorably in love and lust to pay much mind to anyone outside of their little romance.
Howl was still working overtime to make the weapons for Garrosh's kor'kron guard and that left Lash. Unfortunately, he had headed to Ashenvale a few days prior on some mission that he hadn't wanted to tell anyone about.
It was like the universe was conspiring against Liila, forcing her to go alone to Silvermoon. She'd told Cinder she didn't mind going by herself, and at the time it had been true enough. Now however… Why wasn't Sethyl responding? Was he asleep? Had something happened to him? Was he mad at her for not talking to him the other night?
Heading back to her hammock, she hoped that she'd be able to get some sleep. The last thing she needed was to look like a half-dead rat when she presented herself to the magister.
~"~
Tyan tried not to let her frustration show as she headed toward the translocation orb. Last night had been a disaster. Sure, after Ralarr had gotten a few drinks in Sethyl, he'd gone back to his usual, cocky self and had been a total blast to be around.
They'd rattled off memories and talked about just about everything, though Sethyl seemed at first reserved to talk about his guild and where he'd been the last few months. But when he finally did start talking about them, he wouldn't shut up. Especially when it came to Liila.
She frowned at the name. That had to be who he was meeting.
And that Ralarr. After he'd gotten Sethyl drunk enough, he'd turned to Tyan and teased her that their friend was drunk enough that he wouldn't be able to tell if she brought him back to her place instead of his. She had taken him home, but not for that. She hadn't wanted Ralarr and the others to abandon him in a bar or send him home with some random elf.
Sethyl hadn't even realized what she was doing for him. He'd been laughing and joking with her the whole way…and talking about how he thought she'd like Liila, if she got to know her.
Liila, Liila, Liila.
She wanted to kill the wench.
When she'd gotten Sethyl to her couch, he'd passed out almost instantly. She'd spent years pining for him, and he'd gone off and fallen for the first elf he'd seen in Orgrimmar. Orgrimmar! Maybe the heat had played tricks on his mind. She scolded herself as she tried to think of things that must be wrong with any self-respecting elf who might run a shop and own a house in the orcish capital. Liila was probably a perfectly nice young lady.
Regardless, Tyan had headed out early. She didn't want to run into Liila. She'd probably just end up saying something mean, take her wrath out on someone who really didn't deserve it. She'd have to remember to yell at Ralarr the next time she saw him, though.
Tyan slowed her pace as she started up the ramp toward the orb. Was Sethyl awake yet? Her eyes widened as she realized how stupid she'd been. She'd wanted to slip out without having to hear about Liila again and had figured that she would let him sleep.
She really should have woken him up. He was probably going to be late to meet his little Liila. But then…the whole tour guide thing was just an excuse, right? No elf really needed a guide for the city. Even the sin'dorei who still lived out on the country or in the few southern towns still intact knew that they just needed to ask a guard if they were lost.
Was it like some sort of date?
Just as Tyan was wondering if she could make it back to her house to wake Sethyl and still make it to the zeppelin before it left, the orb's arrival platform a few feet behind her glimmered and made a soft humming noise. She wouldn't have given it a second thought, except that the person who appeared behind her did not have the magical presence of a sin'dorei at all.
As she glanced over her shoulder her gaze met a pale blue one, and her head tilted slowly to the side before a little voice in the back of her head told her that the Light was offering her a stress release.
The small quel'dorei woman in front of her looked confused and had just opened her mouth to ask a question when Tyan drew her sword.