It was going to be a good day.
Liila kept telling herself that as she plodded along, walking up the steps and around the corner. However, she stopped when she saw the translocation orb. Its delicately worked metal, shaped in the form of three women casting towards the central, brilliantly colored orb, was so...
She wasn't sure she'd call it welcoming, but the way the magic seeped out of it, filling the air with whispers of elven spells and powers far older than she, made it feel something like Felwood. Not nearly as powerful as the ancient magics of that desolate wood, but still; impressive for a place any being might call home.
Taking a few tentative steps toward the orb, she wondered if she ought to recognize any of them. The spells. While she could tell what a few were—nothing particularly dazzling: an inventory spell here, the remnants of a spell that would water potted plants there—it wasn't the same as remembering. As always, her life was a simple, hazy void before her time spent in Bloodsworn's care.
In truth, a small part of her had grown used to that emptiness and dreaded that she might be nearing an end of this second chance of sorts at life.
Liila had always—as far as she could remember, anyway—had trouble telling her dreams apart from reality. When she'd first escaped Bloodsworn, as she traveled through the Plaguelands with Haa'aji, she would dream that she woke up back in her personal little hell. She could smell the blood in the air, taste it in her mouth. She could hear that bastard's footfalls on the steps outside her prison, coming back for her.
And then she'd wake up next to her trollish savior, the air damp with decay, the ground rotten beneath their feet.
In one world, there was no longer a reason to hope, to dream. In the other, there was a friend. It had taken her forever to figure out which reality was hers. And even now, sometimes she would wonder if perhaps she was just lost to her dreams, allowing her mind to stay in a pleasant, kinder world while she was still being cut open and tainted with death magics so deeply that the light would never return to her.
That was why she had so much trouble waking up. When someone touched her, if she was in her dreams, it was always the same. It wasn't Mitchell or Ta'lim or whoever nudging her shoulder, it was Bloodsworn grabbing her, intent to drag her back to a place where she only continued to breathe because there was no point in trying to die. That was why she lashed out. She didn't want to go back there.
And then, in the moments where the blurry faces from her dreams faded, she would see that her fingers were clenched around a friend's neck, their eyes wide with horror as they stared helplessly up at the abomination on top of them.
That was why she rarely slept around other people. She didn't want to hurt anyone, yes, but really, her reasons were much more selfish. She didn't want them to know how broken she was.
There had only ever been one exception to this rule.
Timmons.
Liila had never been sure why, whether it was because she'd taken refuge in the darkness during her hellish captivity and saw that same abyss in that wretched warlock, or if it was some other, deeper meaning that she'd yet to grasp. Or perhaps he'd simply cast a spell on her so that during the beginnings of their journeys, she wouldn't wake up screaming if he touched her.
It was hard to say.
Haa'aji had always hated Timmons for that—among other things. He'd had to learn to dodge away from frantically clawing hands or restrain Liila until she came to her senses, but if Timmons stirred her awake, she barely so much as gasped.
It was an odd comfort to her that there was even a single person in the world who she could act 'normal' around. And it was a sinking terror that that might be coming to an end.
What if she changed once she regained her memories? What if she became whoever she'd been before Bloodsworn had gotten ahold of her? Would she want to stay in the elven city forever? Would she reject Haa'aji and the others because they reminded her of a darker time?
Really, though she was still afraid of falling back into Bloodsworn's clutches, she didn't consider her life that terrible any longer. After all, she had Impervious. She had people who would die for her and who she would gladly return the favor to. She had a world, a life.
But then, she'd had a life before all this. A different life. Would they be able to mesh together? Or would she have to choose which past would be her future?
Ever since Sethyl and Wren had joined the guild, she'd been afraid that they'd chip away whatever it was that was blocking her memories from her. That seeing them would conjure phantom images of a third world, neither her dreams nor reality, but a world of memories that could just barely stir the surface of her empty past.
Sometimes, as Wren would walk by, his bow lightly thudding against his back, she would think that perhaps she should see someone else. That so simple in action would remind her of someone she'd known once upon a time. But it never did. Her hopes and dreads were always left unfulfilled.
In some ways, she wanted to know who she'd been. She wanted to know how she'd come to fall to the Scourge. Had anyone tried to save her? Or had she never had anyone close enough to dare the horrors of the undead?
When Sethyl had first given her ring back, she'd been terrified that she was going to be swept away into her memories, that the wall would finally break, and she'd be lost to the shadows of times gone, hearing someone whispering sweet nothings as he gave her a trinket of his affections or perhaps a woman gushing about how pretty it was.
There had been nothing.
Liila was fairly certain the ring wasn't hers. There was no way Bloodswornwould have left such a clear path home for her. More like than not, he had wished to inflict pain and had grabbed the nearest thing: a mangled piece of jewelry.
However, even if the ring itself was a dead end, perhaps it would finally allay her worries about having to choose between who she had been and who she was.
After all, what if she remembered her family, her friends, just to learn that they'd all been killed? To remember only to mourn…it seemed like it would be the most likely to happen. After all, fate had a strange way of kicking people when they were already trampled into the mulch.
She was standing in front of the orb before she realized it, and she gave herself pause, checking the time and double checking her messages. An hour earlier than their original meeting. She was precisely on time.
Though she was slightly perturbed that they would move the time up on her—what if the zeppelin had run into bad weather and had to deviate from its course?—she supposed the less time she stood around waiting, the better. She was ready to flee from her past as it was and didn't need the anxiety building up.
She took in a deep breath and placed her hand on the orb. While she wasn't sure if she was supposed to say something or just will herself away, the magic simply wrapped around her, encompassing her as though soft feathers brushing against her skin. In a blink, she was in a darkened room, pale red curtains stirring lazily in front of her.
At first, she was confused. Should someone have been there, waiting? Where were Wren and Sethyl? Were they not allowed in the room in case a large group of people appeared? Was she was supposed to follow the hall to where they were waiting?
Even as she took a slow step forward, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve that covered her scars, she heard the soft clink of metal behind her and turned, expecting at the very least to see Sethyl, perhaps on his way to retrieve her. Instead, it was a stranger. A sin'dorei with curly hair and a hateful light in her eyes. Liila's mind blanked. She could practically hear Bloodsworn's voice, as though he were just behind her whispering in her ear.
Did you think they really wanted to help you?
The woman's sword flashed, the dim light of the translocation orb giving the blade a red hue as it swung toward Liila. She hadn't brought any weapons. Wren and Sethyl were going to protect her, and Wren had suggested leaving behind any daggers or staves she might own, on the off chance that someone would assume she was hostile.
So much for that.
It wasn't until Liila felt the blade biting into her neck that she snapped out of her stupor and shifted her body into shadows. The weapon passed through the rest of her, and she stumbled away, phasing back so that she could heal herself. The woman had incredible precision. Even as Liila slipped back into shadows—though she'd lost a generous amount of blood in the time it'd taken her to heal herself—the woman was already charging forward. And using holy spells.
A paladin.
Liila's gaze happened toward the orb of translocation briefly, but the paladin stood in her way. She doubted she'd be able to make it past her without the damned elf stunning her.
She dodged out of reach, allowing herself to merge with the shadows and shift through them, giving herself plenty of distance. As the paladin turned toward her, her frustration beginning to play on her features, Liila held her hands up and let her shadows recede. As her body became corporeal again, she felt how sticky her shirt was, no doubt ruined with a crimson coat.
"My visit has been sanctioned." Her attacker stopped, though she was still in a position to block Liila from either the door or the orb. She adjusted the grip on her sword as Liila motioned toward her. "Kill me if you feel you must, but know that it is ill advised."
The paladin's brow shot together. Then she scoffed. "You're cornered, and you think threats will help you escape?" She straightened up slightly out of her fighting stance. "How many of you are there? Is it a full raid on the city or are you just gathering intelligence?"
Liila stared at her blankly. "I'm sorry?"
"You heard me."
"I'm here to speak with a Magister Lightsarrow, nothing more." Liila frowned as the elf looked ready to charge her again. She had to think of something. While she could easily shift into the shadows and flee through a wall—something Tizzle had never been able to grasp during his brief foray into shadow spec and always scowled at Liila when he saw her do it—but then, she didn't know the layout of the city, and she didn't really feel like dying today.
After all, if even one of those elves saw her die, she had a feeling that they'd hound her for her immortality in such a way that would make her almost miss the confines of Bloodsworn's torture chambers.
However, the elven lass in front of her was not going to listen to reason. In a breath, she'd lunged toward Liila again, blade arcing toward her neck, as though a second time would yield better results.
Though Liila felt a dull tug of fatigue, she ignored it and slipped back into her shadow form. She had the feeling that even if she killed the woman in front of her in defense, it would be like kicking a wasp's nest. A nest that was already angry about her existence to begin with.
~"~
"Tatai, where do you think you're going?" The Horde emissary, Cheneta, stalked after the troll she'd been charged with keeping an eye on as he strode into the Sunspire and ignored the few suspicious looks from the occasional guard.
"Ah be goin' home, wooman. Ya ain't stoppin' meh."
"Do you remember why you were drafted into this job to begin with—"
"It be hard ta fah'get when ya be remindin' meh evereh twenteh damned minutes," Tatai didn't slow his pace. Rather, he started taking longer strides, hoping desperately that he could somehow outrun his tormentor.
Cheneta considered dropping a totem to catch him in place, but decided against it. The elves didn't need to see how dysfunctional the emissaries could be. When she couldn't see any guards ahead of them for a stretch, she hoped that all the elves were out of hearing distance. "Come now. Calm down. Ambassador Kelemar said that we'd be speaking with Lor'themar soon—"
"He been sayin' dat fa…how maneh months now? Ah lost track." Tatai finally stopped and turned to look down at Cheneta, straightening up as best he could so that he could stare down his nose at her as though she were a child. "Dese elves ain't wantin' ah help, yeh? Dis be a last ditch effort ta save demselves 'n dey don' be givin' a damn about returnin' de fava."
"Tatai." Cheneta took in a deep breath, her face growing serious. "Honestly, it doesn't matter what we think. Thrall considers these talks a mere formality, and that's why the elves don't take us seriously. They'd have to screw up pretty badly for us to report back that they should be removed from the Horde—"
"Like refusin' ta extend a simple damn curteseh like a formal meetin'?"
"Like proving to be with the Alliance still," Cheneta snapped back. "And honestly. If we found out about something like that, they'd likely kill the whole lot of us to keep their secret safe. Our roles here are little more than formality, as I said. So you will stay here, and you will stop acting like—"
A loud crash echoed down the hall, and both of them stilled for a moment. It had come from the room the translocation orb was in. Their minds instantly went to the Alliance. Hadn't the elves claimed that they would make sure humans and the like couldn't use the orb?
Not wanting to call the guards unnecessarily or show that they doubted their hosts were being honest with them about even the most minor of security details, both emissaries headed toward the noise.
Tatai sprinted, thinking that perhaps he could use the chaos as a distraction and escape from Cheneta whilst she vanquished whatever foe was coming their way or reasoned with some brash, 'uncultured' orc—the elves thought they couldn't hear their quiet snickers or snide remarks, and they were so wrong.
However, even as he neared the doorway, he saw something in the shadows cringe away from a blade, and then it was as though the darkness itself was coming for him. He skidded to a stop and braced himself for impact, though after a moment, he opened his eyes and saw that an elven paladin was staring at him wide eyed while delicate fingers gripped his arm from behind as though to use him as a shield.
"Miss Dragonlily?" Cheneta's voice cried out from behind him. Both Tatai and the paladin froze.
However, he recovered quickly. In a blink, he'd freed himself from her grasp and whirled around to face what he'd expected to be seething shadows. Instead, Liila was already leaning against the wall, wincing as Cheneta cast a healing spell on a few cuts and bruises that littered her arms. The little priest could be fast, but not enough so to dodge every jab of a skilled fighter.
Cheneta was inspecting Liila's neck and looking for any other, less noticeable injuries when the little high elf looked over at Tatai and offered him a nod and a faint smile. "It's been a while, Tatai."
"Oh, fuk no," he hissed, taking a few steps back and gripping the paladin's arm. He pointed accusingly at the high elf. "Finish de damned ting off. Now."
As the blood elf looked up toward him, clearly confused with whatever was happening, Cheneta's fingertips danced with lightning. "Neither of you are laying a hand on Liila."
Liila sighed, starting to run her fingers through her hair, but stopping when she realized that her blood had run down her arm and left her hand sticky. She let her hand fall back to her side. Her sleeves sported tears and bloodstains, and her hair was a wild mess. She looked back toward Cheneta, not bothering to hide how worn out she was as she motioned toward the angry troll a few feet away. "What did I do to him?"
Even as Cheneta opened her mouth, Tatai released the paladin and motioned to the hall around them with his hands. "Dis! Dis be ya fault! Ya 'n Haa'aji!" As Liila's head tilted, he scowled. "Ya fuckin' framed meh fa stealin' dat shit! Now Ah be stuck here, foreva! Waitin' ta speak wit' de damned elf leada dat neva gonna speak wit' us."
Tyan hadn't known what to do, but as the emissary mentioned a Haa'aji, it was as though the mere name gave the little elf in front of her strength. Suddenly, instead of looking frazzled and slightly terrified that something terrible was coming her way, she was calm, even slightly amused. It was as though she hadn't just been fighting for her life.
"I forgot what a foul mouth you have," Liila murmured. Tatai let out a strangled scream and kicked the wall beside him. "And I had nothing to do with that."
"Ya been de one who distracted meh! Ya been de one who gave Haa'aji time ta plant dat evidence!"
"I," Liila emphasized the word as she finally straightened up and pushed herself away from the wall. Her hand left a partial bloody print on it, and as they continued talking, Tyan realized that the little elf had to be some sort of ally. A spy for the Horde, maybe? But then…she'd nearly killed her… Tyan stiffened at the realization that she'd attacked someone on the same side as Liila continued to speak. "I had nothing to do with that. I honestly wanted to recruit you for the guild. That was why I brought you to Howl."
"De whole lot a ya be sneakeh basta'ds," Tatai hissed.
Liila rolled her eyes and then paused. "You have to admit though, there was a certain finesse that went into framing you." When Cheneta's brow furrowed, and Tatai looked ready to pull his hair out, she shrugged. "Not that I had anything to do with it."
"Ya be so full a—"
"Stop it!"
The three of them paused and turned their attention toward Tyan, who was still standing in the doorway to the orb's room, looking utterly confused. Cheneta arched her brow and looked back at Liila. "Not a scratch on her. You were playing nice for once."
"I always play nice."
"Don' ya even be—"
"I said stop it!" Tyan screamed. It was all too much. She'd never been the best of her class, but she was no slouch. She was good with a weapon. And now this orc and troll were talking about her like she'd been handled with care? She'd been trying to kill that elf, and her adversary had just been…been what? Toying with her? And the names they'd called her… she pointed accusingly at Liila. "You're trying to tell me that that…quel'dorei is the Dragonlily?"
"Yes," Cheneta replied, surprised. She turned back to Liila. "Shouldn't the elves know you?"
Liila shook her head. "Dragonlily wasn't my name before the Scourge attack." She gave Tyan a tired glance. "And honestly, none of them have really tried to see me as anything more than an annoyance permitted in their ally's capital."
Tyan wasn't going to give them time to work through the shortcomings of her people's information network. "The Dragonlily is a tauren! She's a druid!" She took in a few frustrated breaths. Sure, maybe this elf could be an ally, but there was no way... "The Dragonlily isn't an elf. She has some strong connection to nature, and we don't."
As Cheneta cradled her head in her hands like there was some explanation coming that she didn't want to have to go through and Tatai sighed, Liila shrugged. "Well…I am an honorary tauren on Tuesdays."
Tatai felt his anger slipping for the first time since he'd seen the little elf and relived his arrest in Orgrimmar months prior. "Wat about Wednesdays?"
"Furbolg."
"Sata'day?"
"Troll." Liila wiped her hands on her skirt—it was as ruined as her shirt was at this point—and then began to carefully comb her hair out of her face with her fingers. "I'm a different species every day of the week."
"You can't be a member of another species," Tyan hissed.
"Honorary," Liila corrected and then motioned toward her, almost as though they were old friends. "If you're trying to reclaim me for the elves, there are better ways to go about it."
Tyan tilted her head to the side slowly, staring at the little elf. "You…what's wrong with you?" However, before Liila could decide whether she wanted to give her a rundown of all the times she'd hit her head or been maimed by something, Tyan remembered what else Cheneta had called her, and she paled a shade. "You're Liila?"
The quel'dorei offered her an odd bow that looked more like a mix between something a forsaken and a troll would do. "Liila Dragonlily, yes." As she straightened up, she allowed herself a fleeting, mischievous smile before donning a serious look. "Though I can see that some of the stories of my adventures have been embellished to the point where my true species—and class—has been lost."
"Ya prolly been de one ta spread dem," Tatai muttered.
"I never spread rumors about my own adventures," Liila replied without missing a beat.
"Haa'aji did it, den."
"I have no control over what he does or doesn't do."
Tyan stared at her, her expression blanking. She wanted to reject this reality. To just go back to where the elf in front of her was an enemy that needed slaying. But then…some of Sethyl's stories were starting to make sense. The way he'd stumbled around certain details, even while drunk…the way he'd explained that Liila could be infuriating at times, but that really she was a good person.
So far, Tyan wasn't sure she'd seen much of that latter part, though she was plenty angry.
When she started filling in a few of the blanks, it all fit together too well. The reason she had so many connections everywhere in all of Sethyl's stories and yet had so much trouble coming to Silvermoon. The reason she needed an escort.
The Dragonlily was a high elf. And Sethyl was enamored with her.
Tyan felt her skin crawl at bit at the thought—honestly, why couldn't he have at least settled for another sin'dorei? Was he turned off by the fel taint, even though he bore it as well? Tyan abruptly sheathed her sword and crossed her arms as she looked over Liila. "Why are you so early then?"
For the first time since her rescue, Liila frowned. "I'm sorry?"
"You're not supposed to be here until noon."
"Wren said I was supposed to come early." Even as Tyan stared at her, puzzled as to how plans could change so last minute, Liila pulled her stone out of her pocket and frowned. For a moment, the magics of Silvermoon looked as though they were ready to block the usage of her trinket. However, she'd heard rumors that stronger magic—like in Felwood and the Maelstrom—was often on the verge of having a mind of its own, and so she reached out into the chaos of tumbling spells until she felt something that drew away from her attention. Most spells were incapable of registering that they were being watched, so for one to flee meant that it was what she was looking for.
She reached toward it again with her thoughts, gently, letting the spells around her get a feel for her and see that, while she might loathe the people they had been created by or designed to protect, she had no desire to harm them.
The spells didn't brush back or acknowledge her, and for a moment she thought that perhaps there was a difference between 'wild' and manufactured magic, but her stone glimmered to life. She offered brief thanks before returning her attention to the world of mortals.
She brought up the message from Wren and showed it to the others. Tyan was awed by it, though she paused and glanced at the emissaries as she noticed they each sported similar stones on their ears. She'd never considered that their earrings might be some secret form of communication before. Though…those stones were much smaller, and she wondered if perhaps she was just seeing connections where there weren't any.
"Well, Sethyl hadn't heard anything about that," Tyan offered. It still felt strange talking to the three of them so casually, and she stood a bit to the side once she was done examining the message. She focused on trying to hide her curiosity about the stone as she looked back at Liila.
"Someone's lying to me then. Either outright or by omission."
"Or something happened, and Sethyl didn't hear about it," Tyan defended. "After all, if you were supposed to be here early, then where's Wren?"
Liila stopped. "Good point." She considered the Alliance spy and tilted her head. It couldn't be…could it? Or had something else happened? Was someone gunning for her specifically, or was this just an idle game, like something Haa'aji would have done? Wren didn't seem the type to play on that level, and Liila hesitated before looking down. She tapped her stone a few times, and the runes over it changed. "I have…almost fifty minutes then." She tilted her head. "Huh. I would've thought our little scuffle lasted longer than that. It certainly felt like it did." She stilled for a moment, her fingers in the air in front of her as thought she was counting something in her head. "In that case… I stowed most of my things in the Ruins of Lordaeron so that I wouldn't need to carry so much around while I was here. I think perhaps this day can be salvaged, so I'm going to go change into something less bloodied, and I'll try to be back before noon."
Cheneta crossed her arms and motioned for Liila to go. "I think nearly getting murdered is as good a reason as any to be a bit late. Tatai and I will stay until you get back and let anyone who comes for you know what's happened."
Liila inspected Cheneta before nodding. "It's appreciated." However, even as she turned toward the ramp leading up to the orb, she paused, her fingers clasping around air near her neck. She looked around the floor. "I've lost my ring."
Tatai made a shooing motion, his tusks emphasizing his frown. "Ya go get all prettied up 'n all dat elvish nonsense 'n we find it, yeh?"
Tyan straightened up, guilt weaving its way into her mind and settling there. Even as the orb flashed and Liila disappeared, Tyan looked around and then bent quickly to pick up a dull shimmer near one of the walls. The ring and it's broken chain were splattered with blood from when she'd first tried to chop off Liila's head. However, it was Sethyl's craftsmanship that she noticed first and foremost. She clenched her fingers around the ring and then glanced up, pausing as her gaze happened across the hall, and she thought she saw a bit of black hair and robe disappear into a doorway. Had someone been watching? Dismissing it—after all, who would watch their debacle and not come over to make sure all parties were well?—she started up toward the orb herself. "I'm going to bring this to her now—"
"Afta wat ya jus' did, Ah wouldn't," Tatai murmured, holding his hand out for the ring. "We send her ya apologehs."
Tyan forced a thin smile and then grudgingly handed the ring over. "As you wish…I do have a zeppelin to catch."
~"~
Liila finished scrubbing the last of her body and slipped back onto the shore, the brittle grass prickling her bare feet as she walked across it to her belongings. Even a she quickly toweled her hair and then the rest of her, she had to wonder what had changed.
She'd been dreading this day, and she'd had the perfect way to get out of it. Sure, some might be skeptical if she claimed she'd been traumatized by the attack, but really, they'd have to reconsider dragging her back here after today's events.
However, when she'd been there, all alone and wondering where she fit into everything, to see Tatai and Cheneta, to hear how Haa'aji and her own antics had led to some rather bizarre—and unwanted—adventures… Somehow it fit. This was who she was. Even if before the fall of Silvermoon, she'd been an upstanding, proper young elf who was well respected by the people who knew her, she would always be the Dragonlily.
Still, it would be good to know where she'd come from. If she had family still alive, then perhaps she could be reunited. Perhaps she could know the simple things that so many took for granted, like where she'd been born and how old she was.
If not, it didn't matter. She was a legend, and she had a family. She had Haa'aji.
As she slipped on a long black dress that had a beaded pattern woven along the hems of her neck and skirt, she felt like more herself than she had in months. Her arms were bared, her scars there for all to see. Really, she would have worn a shirt over them, if only to stop unnecessary conversations from starting, but then, the one shirt she normally wore under it was a bloody mess. Originally, she'd worn the closest she could get to what she'd seen the sin'dorei wearing around Orgrimmar—a simple, delicate, white blouse with a long, red pleated-skirt. She'd wanted to make as few waves as possible during her visit, but then where was the fun in that?
What was the worst they could do? Kill her? Capture her and lock her away in some magical prison? Haa'aji and the others would have her out within the month.
She felt silly as she realized what her real problem had been. What had really been holding her back was some foolish notion that finding her past had to change anything. Because it didn't.
Even as she tugged at her waist to make sure her dress was in place, she heard a soft crunch of feet on the broken bricks surrounding the hole in the wall she'd slipped through to get to the lake.
Looking up, she paused when she saw Tyan. She eyed her as she slipped on a bracelet over one of her hands. It had originally been a necklace that Piikiitwo had worn around his neck, but she just twisted it around half a dozen times until it fit snuggly on her wrist. The feathers were still stained with her beloved mount's blood, but she couldn't bring herself to replace them yet.
"Come to finish me off?"
"I wanted to apologize."
Liila tilted her head and looked Tyan over more carefully. "For?"
"Don't play dumb," Tyan frowned. "If I'd known you were Liila, I wouldn't have attacked you. Sethyl mentioned that you were coming, but I thought it'd be later and…" she trailed off a moment before blurting, "the only reason I was so early was because I was trying to avoid you to begin with."
"Oh?" Liila made it up the bank with her things in a blink, and Tyan was surprised by how fast the little caster moved. Liila tussled her hair as though to make it dry faster as she stood next to Tyan. "If you didn't know I was me, how were you going to be sure to avoid me?"
"Please don't play games," Tyan murmured, reaching up and rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I…Sethyl's quite taken with you. He never said you were a high elf, though. I thought I'd get out of town before you were to arrive and that I wouldn't have to worry about how awkward it would be to see the two of you…together…" She trailed off as she looked back at Liila and saw her blank expression. "…Why are you looking at me like that?"
Liila narrowed her eyes slowly as she tilted her head. "I'm debating smacking you. Or just throwing you in the lake."
"Excuse me?"
"Let me explain something," Liila slung an arm over Tyan's shoulders, turning her around as they started heading back toward the orb. As Tyan glanced at her, wondering if cutting her down would really be so bad, she paused when she realized Liila's extra belongings were gone. She glanced over her shoulder, but couldn't see where the priest had dropped off her stuff. "Most of the time in the Horde, drama involves someone stealing another's kill, dishonoring a fellow warrior in battle, a dispute over who brought shame to who. That sort of thing." Liila pointed toward Tyan. "Then you elves come along and…forgive me for this, but it's like you're human." She smiled quickly as Tyan bristled at the word. "You have to complain about your boots, your clothes, how things are 'dirtier' than you're used to. Your drama is really just your lot looking down your nose at the rest of us and then you turn around and get all tangled in relationship problems that—at the end of the day—leave you more vulnerable than the rest of us. X likes Y but Y was with Z while Z was also with X and A at the same time and now everything is awkward for everyone."
She paused and then looked at Tyan with a critical stare. "Do you understand?"
"You think we're pettier than the rest of the Horde?"
"You are quite succinct. I like it."
Tyan planted her feet in the ground, forcing Liila to release her as she took another step forward before turning to face her. "So why are you bringing this up?"
"You are trying to drag me into elf drama, and I will have you know that I will claw your eyes out before I will participate in any such nonsense."
"Act as high and mighty as you want," Tyan snapped back, crossing her arms. "But you're already in it. Maybe because You. Are. An. Elf."
"Lies."
She scrunched her nose as she stared at Liila and then shook her head. "I don't care if you're an honorary tauren or whatever today—"
"Today I am a forsaken."
"Whatever you want, sweetie," Tyan shook her head, her curls bouncing around her face. "But at the end of the day, it's those pointy ears and thin waist that people see. Not some tabard that you're not even wearing. And Sethyl has feelings for you. And you're right. I have feelings for him." She straightened up, cockily. "So whether you want to be a part of our drama or not, you're in it."
"The claws come out," Liila murmured, her eyes dancing before she quickly masked her expression, pulling her guild stone from her pocket and inspecting it. She tilted her head. "I like you. You're not as annoying as most elves."
"You are an elf, too."
"We will have to agree to disagree…" Liila pocketed her stone. "I do not feel like waiting until noon to meet with this magister." She blinked sweetly toward Tyan. "Perhaps you could show me where to go…?"
"No."
"I'd consider us even for your trying to murder me."
Tyan frowned. "Even if I wanted to help you, I have to get to Orgrimmar. The zeppelin is leaving soon, but I wanted to make sure you were okay…" she took in a breath, regretting her earlier intentions, "and, like I said, to apologize."
"Hmm…we'll even the score another time then," Liila murmured and shrugged. "A pity. I did want to get this behind me." She pulled out her stone and made a few extra taps before scrawling out a quick message. "You'd best hurry. The captain of The Thundercaller will hold the zeppelin for a moment, but not long."
Tyan blinked and then paled. "What time is it?"
"Time for you to hurry if you want to catch that ride."
Even as Tyan started forward, she looked back at Liila. "I hurt you. Why would you…why would you help me?"
"Apologies mean a lot," Liila shrugged and then offered her a small wave, "especially from egotistical xenophobes." As Tyan scowled and started rushing off to get to her ride, Liila added, "You can just owe me for it later…"
She waited a moment before heading back toward the orb of translocation at a brisk pace. "Now then, time to play by my rules…"
~"~
Sethyl's father couldn't believe that his son had never come home the night before. Where was he? Was he alright? Had he decided he didn't want to help this Liila, after all? Just as Wren waved off his latest apology for having kept the farstrider there all night—Wren figured that, worst case, he would go to meet Liila at the original time and then loiter with her for the next five hours, maybe go over different policies in Silvermoon after all—the door to the shop swung open, and Sethyl stumbled through, looking mildly panicked and incredibly hung over.
His shirt was buttoned wrong, and his hair fell crazily around him. However, somehow, he still managed to be aware enough to frown upon seeing his fellow guild mate. "Wren, what are you doing here?"
"The time for Liila's escort was changed, and I can't find my stone to tell her."
Sethyl blinked and checked the time on an old clock hanging on the wall. "It's a little late now...she'll be here in...ten minutes." He cried out and darted toward the stairs, as though to attempt to throw himself together in so little time.
Wren caught his attention. "I'll go meet her now, if you can just let her know that it's going to be a while."
With a nod, Sethyl clumsily pulled out his guild stone and sent out a quick message. However, before his foot could even hit the top step, it chimed with a reply. He paused to read it before blanching and whirling back toward the door. He nearly fell back down the stairs as he dropped his stone over the banister. Wren hurried over and picked it up. Even as he held it out to Sethyl, who ignored him, he saw the runes flicker out of existence.
Wren told me to come early, so I'm already here. Tyan was a lovely young lady, by the way. A bit of a temper, though. I'd say you have to watch for that, but, well…
~"~
As Wren and Sethyl hurried to the translocation orb, Wren slowed to a stop, frowning when he saw a cloaked figure walking quickly down the road.
"Sethyl," he grabbed Sethyl's shoulder, jerking him to a stop. Even as Sethyl gave him a frustrated glare, he looked back at him, anger seething in his eyes. "Send me a message."
"What?" Sethyl felt like the world was going mad. "You don't have your stone."
"Send me a message. It can be a single letter for all I care."
Though he was somewhat puzzled as to why this would matter, it occurred to him that perhaps Wren thought he'd dropped his stone when he first came back to the city. Seeing as they were in the courtyard in front of the Sunspire, he grudgingly scrawled a quick 'hi' into his stone and then started toward the translocation orb again. Surely Liila wouldn't have gone into the city by herself. Was she insane? And why would she involve Tyan?
How would Tyan know that Liila was a good high elf? He paled as he considered that Liila might be mind controlling Tyan into defending her. She wouldn't stoop so low, would she?
As he tore into the building, barely dodging around a few guards who eyed him with suspicion, Wren barely heard a soft chime come from the direction of the cloaked figure heading off down a side street. He started toward the man even as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, round stone. Wren's stone.
Something inside of him snapped.
It wasn't about the guild stone. Or the fact that Adrias had lied to him about having it. Or even that he had probably stolen it in the first place. It was that he always did this. Every time something was wrong in his life, it was because of something Adrias had done. If people started looking at him like he was scum, it was because his brother had dragged down his good name. He barely had anyone who would associate with him in Silvermoon as it was because it was clear that Adrias had put a target on Wren and hurt most anyone who got too close.
Going to Orgrimmar had been like a chance at a new life for Wren. It had been a chance to go somewhere where most everyone would be oblivious to his familial discord. A place where he wasn't the youngest Duskflame, but just Wren.
If anything happened to Liila because he'd lost his stone, how would the rest of the guild react? Would they kick him out? Would he be able to find another guild? Or would it matter? Would Adrias just continue to ruin everything until it finally drove Wren to jump off something overlooking sharp rocks?
"Adrias!" Wren screamed the name as he sprung off the cobblestones and into his brother, who turned around in time to see the attack, but not with enough time to do anything about it. In a second, Wren had Adrias pinned to the ground, his forearm across his brother's throat as he jerked his guild stone away from him.
Adrias gasped and clawed at his brother's arm. Wren pressed down harder. However, as angry as he was, he knew that it wasn't worth it to get arrested for fighting in the streets, and he jerked to his feet, glaring down at his brother and kicking at his legs to hurry him up as well. "For once in your miserable life could you think of someone other than yourself? You could have gotten Liila killed!"
Rubbing his throat gingerly, Adrias looked up at Wren, amused. "You mean the Dragonlily?"
Wren's eye twitched. "What have you done?"
"Not much," Adrias grinned, triumphant. "But if you want to keep her from doing anything stupid, you might want to head over to the Magister's."
Even as Wren tried to remember where the magister lived, Adrias rose to his feet, dusting off his robes calmly, as though he hadn't just been choked. As he combed his fingers through his hair to put it back in place, he tilted his head. "By the way, what do you think the guards would do if they found out that pretty little sin'dorei with two of the emissaries for the Horde is actually a high elf?"
Wren froze, looking back at him slowly.
"I'd like to know how she did that, by the way…made her presence feel like that of a blood elf's."
Wren scowled and ran his fingers through his hair before pausing to write out a quick note to Sethyl and then hurrying toward one of the guards watching him with deep frowns. He had to find Liila.
~"~
Wren had to say he was amazed at how well Sethyl could sprint when he wanted to. After sending him the message, the paladin had caught up to him surprisingly fast. Perhaps it'd just been because Wren was unsure where to go to get to Magister Lightsarrow's home even with directions, as it was not a part of town he frequented, but it seemed like Sethyl had found him with uncanny speed.
The duo had startled more than a few priests on their way through the more peaceful part of the city. Wren was used to the darkened allies that warlocks frequented, and he was surprised that there was still a part of the city that retained such serenity. Sethyl was slightly unnerved that somehow this area alone seemed to have been unphased by the Scourge, though there were considerably less elves walking around than he'd remembered seeing when he was a boy.
However, even as they turned the last corner, they saw Liila stepping out of one of the gates. Both of them slowed dramatically as they saw the bright smile on her face as she offered a half bow to an older elf. The man had the beginnings of gray in his hair as he laughed and returned the bow, pausing to speak softly to an orc woman and troll man who stepped out into the street after Liila.
Wren narrowed his eyes. "Aren't those…?"
Before he could finish his sentence, the troll frowned and pointed toward the duo. As the others turned their attention toward Liila's guild mates, they realized that they stood out noticeably, their hair wild and their clothes roughed up—Sethyl's from his drinking binge and Wren from his fight.
The magister knit his brow together but offered the duo a quick wave before disappearing back into his school.
Sethyl remembered his purpose and jogged the last few yards to Liila as she and her companions strolled toward them. When he reached them, he gripped Liila by her shoulders, slightly unnerved by her sudden expressiveness. And the fact that her eyes were a brilliant green and, unlike before, she actually felt like a blood elf.
"What did you do to Tyan?"
"Hmm?" Liila arched her eyebrows and frowned. "Don't you mean what did she do to me? I was nothing by sweet."
"Hardly," Tatai muttered.
As Wren caught up, Liila threw out a few casual introductions, though Sethyl barely registered them. "Where is she?"
"Tyan?"
"You know that's who I'm talking about," he frowned, imagining his friend. She wasn't hurt, was she?
"She's flying to Orgrimmar as we speak," Liila tilted her head, watching Sethyl as he ran a hand down his face and then locked his brilliant green eyes on her. He must have hit up some of mana crystals during his run over. "She's quite fond of you, you know." Liila gave him a calm smile and motioned off, "And you seem to feel the same…unless…you don't have one of those hero complexes, do you? Where you have to save every damsel you meet, whether they're in distress or not?"
"Liila…" Sethyl looked like he might smack her for a moment and for a moment, he honestly felt like he might. However, he walked over to the nearest stone wall surrounding one of the yards to the different priesthoods' buildings and leaned against it, covering his face with his hands.
Cheneta clucked her tongue softly. "Why do the people around you always look so exhausted?"
"Because Dragonlileh be a bitch…" Tatai snapped, though he slumped his shoulders as Liila hugged him.
"I know you love me, deep down."
"Do Ah look like Haa'aji?"
"No," Liila sighed. "Haa'aji is much more rugged and handsome. You, on the other hand, have become a docile, city troll."
"Wooman, Ah swear Ah gonna—"
"Tatai," Cheneta snapped, reaching up and flicking one of his ears. Both Wren and Sethyl suffered sympathy flinches, their own ears aching from the thought of getting thwacked. "We've wasted enough time playing around. We should get back to our duties."
The two offered quick farewells as they darted off, back to where the rest of the emissaries were no doubt readying to take another Light-forsaken tour of the city while they waited to be seen.
Liila stared after them and then shook her head slowly. "Wren. Is there any way you could pull some strings to get them seen sooner?"
"Not after all the ones I pulled to get you here," he replied, his smile tight. When Liila looked back at him, head cocked, he took in a slow breath. "You're five hours ahead of schedule." He paused and checked where the sun was overhead. "Well, more like four now…"
"Yes, well," Liila clasped her hands in front of her and arched her eyebrows as she looked him over. "Someone lost their stone. And someone else told me to come early. I was already here, at the school, when you messaged me with the right time, so I didn't see a point in leaving and coming back."
Even as Wren took in a slow breath, squeezing his eyes shut, Sethyl glanced around and then motioned awkwardly toward Liila. "Well then?" When she merely tilted her head, he motioned with his chin toward Magister Lightsarrow's school. "Do you know your real name?"
"Not a clue," she shrugged, though for the first time she looked slightly wistful. "The ring wasn't mine. It belonged to a Terrathane Morningblossom. She was about three inches taller, red haired, and far bustier than I've ever been." Liila glanced down toward her hands, "Though apparently she had very tiny fingers for a woman of her stature."
For a moment, both men forgot their frustrations. Sethyl frowned. "But that means…"
"The only lead to my past was a red herring," Liila shrugged. "I…thought he might do something like this." She was quiet before her expression blanked slightly. "At least Miss Morningblossom's father can have her ring back."
"But you're somebody's little girl, too," Sethyl murmured, taking both Wren and Liila by surprise. "Someone's got to be missing you."
"The only people missing me are in Orgrimmar," Liila replied softly. "Anyone here is missing someone who died a long time ago." As she patted his arm, he frowned, seeing the blackened scars running up her arm. He'd never realized how extensive the injuries had been.
Liila paused and then turned to Wren, pointing her index fingers toward him, her hands still clasped. "I don't suppose you could tell the captain or whoever it was who was supposed to be my official escort that I won't be needing them anymore, would you?" She hesitated. "I mean, I can find him, but I have a feeling that it's going to be sooner than later that someone figures out that I'm not as fel tainted as the rest of you."
"Magister Lightsarrow never noticed?"
"Oh, he did," Liila shrugged. "I mean, I told him right away."
Wren eyed her. "Told him what?"
"That your mages made me able to blend for the duration of my stay so that I wouldn't have a giant target on my back and that I am looking into becoming a sin'dorei myself."
Wren hesitated and then turned to go find Captain Dawningblade. However, he paused a few steps away. "But that's not what really happened, is it?"
"It wasn't really their intent, but it was your mages who enabled me." She glanced around the street and then lightly tapped a small red gem on one of her ears. "Let's just say you guys got a little confused about the point of orbs of deception and made yours wrong."
"I'm going to hope for a better explanation when we get back to Orgrimmar," Wren murmured and then shook his head, turning and hurrying off to find his way to the captain. With luck, he wouldn't be stuck listening to Jaserisk complain about all the effort that had been wasted for very long. Perhaps he could just have another farstrider relay a message…
As he disappeared around a corner, Sethyl started to walk after him, though Liila reached out and lightly gripped the fabric of his shirt. "I wanted to talk to you in private, if you would indulge me?"
He stopped for a moment, his shoulders sagging as he realized how worn out he was. When he'd woken up on Tyan's couch, it had been by rolling off of it onto the floor, and that had been a rather harsh awakening. His crash had disoriented him, and it had taken him a minute to realize he wasn't home. By the time he put everything together, his head had been pounding, though he'd hardly noticed that or the curious stares people had given him as they watched him stumble home.
Even as he tried to think past the throbbing in his head which had finally found the time to make itself first and foremost in his mind, he felt the light washing over him, though it was so much colder than when he typically used it. He glanced toward Liila in time to see the glow receding from her fingertips.
"Thanks." He murmured. They stood in silence for a moment before he straightened up and blinked past his grogginess. "I think there's a park a few streets that way…it was never very crowded though. If you want, we could go there." He paused before adding, "Maybe you'll recognize something there."
Liila's smile nearly broke his heart as she downcast her eyes and shook her head, though she did start in that direction.
Their journey was as silent as the time they'd gone to Winterspring, though this time it was Liila who allowed her gaze to wander, curious, and Sethyl who stayed focused on their destination. The park itself was more of an empty lot which had been converted by a few priests during their free time before the Scourge had hit. A few simple benches sat atop the lush grass and under the twisting trees that Eversong was so famous for.
No one else was there, but he still led Liila to the furthest bench, the one that offered the most privacy. After she slid onto the bench, he sat down beside her and leaned forward against his knees, his head bent down almost as though he were praying.
Liila took in their surroundings for another moment, wondering what it was like for her when she'd been accustomed to such a place, and if she'd ever come to this spot when she lived in Silvermoon. Assuming she had. Perhaps she'd been born in one of the smaller towns to the south and had never made it to Silvermoon itself. There was a strange beauty about it that was different from any other place she'd ever been and for a moment she wanted to insist on a full tour of the city, not to see if she could remember anything, but just so she could see what it was that the elves held so dear to them. She could see why they seemed disheartened when they saw Orgrimmar's streets versus their own. The cultural differences were night and day.
"You wanted to talk, didn't you?"
Liila blinked and looked down, her fingers lightly clasped around one of the fiery leaves hanging over them. Sethyl was watching her, looking tired. At the same time, though, there was something in his eyes, like he'd been watching her be awed by his home for some time and thought it was...endearing.
"Sethyl, I do not wish to be indelicate, but—"
"It almost sounds like you're breaking up with me." He sat up and leaned against the back of the bench, "which would only make sense if we'd ever been a couple."
"Well," Liila rolled her eyes. "People keep telling me that you've grown fond of me, and I just didn't want to lead you astray."
Sethyl let out a bark of a laugh as he stared at her, his expression incredulous. Then he looked at the grass and shook his head slowly. "You remind me of my little brother."
Liila blinked. While she'd been trying to think how best to explain that her heart belonged to another—without drawing a great deal of attention to her unrequited love for fear of giving him hope—she hadn't been expecting that. She arched her eyebrows. "Your little brother?"
"He was annoying and infuriating and hopeless and…" Sethyl trailed off. "…and I'd give anything in this world or any other to have him back." He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "To find out that he was living in some Alliance settlement with amnesia. Just to know that he was breathing, smiling, laughing…" His voice caught in his throat. He drew in a slow breath before he lifted his head and looked back at Liila. "You remind me of him, so I wanted to help you. It's not…love." He reached out and tussled Liila's hair. "So you can spare me the break up speech."
Liila nodded slowly and then glanced out across the park. "You might want to let Tyan know. She's quite upset about the thought that you might be interested in another elf. Particularly a quel'dorei." Liila looked back at him and put a hand over her mouth. "Can you imagine the scandal?"
Sethyl laughed and nudged her. "Keep it down, would you? I don't need someone walking by to hear you and think you're some sort of spy." As Liila rolled her eyes and leaned back on the bench, again turning her attention toward their surroundings, he shook his head. "My friend Ralarr is in love with Tyan though, so she and I are never going to happen." He paused and frowned when Liila eyed him. "I wouldn't betray him like that."
Silence fell over the two again for a moment before Liila shrugged. "The obvious answer is that the two of you must duel to the death for her."
"Is it?" Sethyl arched an eyebrow. "I've already told you I have no intention of chasing after Tyan, and you want me to kill my best friend for her?" He hesitated and then shook his head. "Because you can make fun of my ability to fight all you want, but at the end of the day, Ralarr may be a good fighter, but I'd kick his ass."
"I know. Who'd have thought healing pallies would be so skilled in combat?"
"I am a ret pally. I do not heal."
"Not well, from what I've heard. Magister's Terrace was a blemish on paladin healing records everywhere."
Sethyl's mouth twisted as he tried not to smile. "Your lot are intent on making me go holy, aren't you?"
"We don't need another tank."
"It's not—" He cut himself off and leaned his head into his hands. "You're trying to drive me mad."
"You wouldn't be any good to us mad, would you?" Liila shrugged, her face serious for a moment. Even as Sethyl laughed and shook his head, she heard a soft chime and pulled her stone from her pocket. Her eyes scanned over the message on her stone, detailing how Gregor and Timmons had been cursed by a quilboar. She stiffened, her expression blanking.
Sethyl frowned and leaned over to read the message as well. "What is this…?" Liila checked the time the message had been sent and frowned, "What's wrong with my stone…?"
"You do realize that it's pretty much last night in Kalimdor right now, right? Or very early morning."
Liila considered it in her head and then shook her head slowly. "I always get confused by the time difference."
"It took some getting used to when I first went to Orgrimmar," Sethyl offered, though he pointed back at her stone. She was already scrawling out a message. "What was that about though? Gregor and Timmons aren't dead anymore? Was that some sort of joke?"
Liila's runes flickered out of existence. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out." She paused and scrawled out another quick message to Margaret, requesting that she bring Liila's belongings from 'the usual place' in the runes of Lordaeron when she came back to Orgrimmar.
"I hope everything's okay," Sethyl offered, even as runes wrapped around Liila, and she faded out. When she was gone he stared at where she'd been for a moment and then laughed faintly, scratching the back of his neck. "My little brother? That's the best I could do…?"
He sat there another moment before rising to his feet and heading home. He figured that this time, at least, his father deserved a proper goodbye.