A/N: This has been on hiatus for a very long time. However, I've started working on it again and hope to finish it by the end of June or July. Impervious will be updated on Sundays until it's completion. Thank you to everyone who reads! I hope you enjoy the story.
…-…
Cloudless sat between Tizzle and Sprocket, reading carefully over a forty-page document that they'd given him. It had something to do with the houses they were planning on getting, though Cloudless wasn't really sure what. He already had a home. And so did they, even though they seemed to want to split ways already.
He lowered the page he was one—miserable page five—and eyed the two. "Why exactly am I the one reading this?"
"We figure," Tizzle began slowly, rolling his eyes as he motioned vaguely about with a hand, "that since we'll be headin' ta Northrend soon, we might as well just keep the hut we have for the time bein'. No sense in buyin' somethin' we can't even move into, ya know?"
"And that involves me, how?"
It was Sprocket's turn. He leaned against the table they'd seated themselves around in Cloudless' sparse home. Like most huts in Orgrimmar, it was simply one large room. Cloudless hadn't opted to get a place with a second story, mostly because—despite Whisper's promises that he would be fine—he had feared that the floor might not support so bulky a creature as himself. "We figure if we're gonna be ownin' property together, we better know that it's fair grounds and all, yeah? We don't want ta come back 'n get in a fight over simple stuff, right?"
"So?"
"So, we've drawn up a document that we think is suited ta our needs," Tizzle said, irate.
"So?"
"So," Sprocket snapped, pointing toward the document. "We need a third party ta read it over and make sure that it's fair. That we ain't screwin' each other over in ways we ain't figured out yet."
"And you chose me?" Cloudless asked slowly, eyes narrowed.
Fluffy bleated from its corner, eye twitching faintly as it nibbled on some grass that had been laid out in a bowl for it.
The three of them eyed the little creature a moment before dismissing it—for some reason, the farm animal gave Sprocket and Tizzle the creeps.
Cloudless wanted to tell them they would need to find someone else, perhaps someone more versed in this sort of matter—another goblin?—but he couldn't very well pass them off onto another guild mate, could he? After all, this would be cumbersome for anyone, and of everyone, he seemed to have the most free time of late. His affairs were in order, and he would be ready to head to Northrend on a moment's notice.
Even as he miserably resigned himself to reading again, his guild stone chimed.
Thank the balance.
Jerking his guild stone out a little too quickly, giving both Sprocket and Tizzle apologetic looks as he did so, he froze when he saw the message that flickered over the stone.
It was from Whisper.
Before either goblin could ask him what was going on, he'd gripped Sprocket's shoulder. "I need a portal to Thunder Bluff."
The goblin's eyes widened as he stared up into the panicked look on his guild mate's face. "I-I don't know that one, yet."
Cursing, Cloudless was on his feet and out the door before Sprocket could say anything else. He and Tizzle sat at the table a moment longer before Tizzle pulled out his guild stone and scrawled out a message to Whisper, asking what the fel had just happened. A long, long pause answered them, to the point that Sprocket had begun to pull his own stone out, to try asking Haa'aji what was going on.
Before he could, however, an answer finally flickered in purple across Tizzle's stone.
There was an attack on Thunder Bluff, and we can't find Skybow.
~"~
Stomping hard enough through the Durotan desert that the sands poofed up in angry puffs in his wake, Mitchell didn't even hear his name being called. It wasn't until he turned to start pacing the other way and nearly walked into Margaret that he realized he wasn't alone.
He stared into her worried face and felt something wrench free in his gut. Some core piece of him, something that he'd thought was buried or dead or forgotten burst free, and before he could stop himself, he was hiccupping apologies through dry, tearless sobs, arms gripping Margaret by her shoulders.
Margaret was a bit taken aback by the breakdown. Mitchell had been in such a good mood before the explosion—and honestly even after explosions he was rarely more than annoyed. Besides, no one had died. Sure, he'd lost some research for that curse, but…it could be pieced back together.
Even as she slipped her arms around him, gently patting his back as he sobbed, she tried to piece together what had upset him so much. It was clear, however, that she was missing pieces of the puzzle, and she finally settled for comforting him until he regained enough self-control to speak coherently.
He'd kept saying he wanted to surprise her through his tears, and she felt an old, painful tug at her heart as she watched him, waiting as patiently as she could.
When he finally managed to calm down, his breathing fading along with his sobs, she guided him over to a small outcrop of rock and sat with him, their backs against the shaded side. As they sat there, she squeezed his hand. "I know you may have lost some notes, but it'll be okay. I can help you restore some of the papers, if you want. I'm pretty good at it."
"It's not that," Mitchell whispered.
Margaret pursed her lips, thinking. "Is it because Liila healed Gregor and Timmons? I know that might skew your results, but you're so meticulous, you'll figure out how much her healing affected—"
"I don't wanna talk about Liila!" Mitchell hissed, enough venom in his voice that Margaret recoiled slightly, eyes wide. When he realized he's startled her, he paused, glancing over at her, suddenly looking a little sick. "Have you ever died?"
"Mitchell…"
"I mean, aside from the first time." He coughed into his hand, shifting a little as he turned his blind gaze toward his feet. "I think… I think I have. Twice. When I walked away from it, I thought I was just lucky. But it wasn't… It wasn't luck at all."
"Mitch, you're a bit ahead of yourself—"
"Gregor and Timmons weren't cursed by anything," Mitchell whispered, curling his legs into his chest and resting his head against his boney knees. "It was me. I tried to fix them."
It took a long, long moment before Margaret abruptly realized just what it was that Mitchell was confessing. Her eyes widened and then narrowed and then… She leaned toward Mitchell. "You got their hearts beating? All on your own?"
"No."
The word was so bitter.
Margaret shifted so that she could face him, a hand on his shoulder. "What happened?"
It took a bit of prodding, but Mitchell finally explained himself, starting back when Margaret had gotten upset at Ta'lim's quip. He told her everything, from blowing up the Society's lab to when Timmons died, death runes bringing him back.
When he was done, Margaret sat back, hands folded in her lap, gaze unfocused. "So you think Liila carved death runes into all of us? That the reason we live through so much stuff is because she played Lich?"
"I don't really care about that part," Mitchell mumbled. "I'd have liked to know, actually. It'd be nice not to have to be scared of everything, of knowing that even if it does kills me, it can still make me stronger."
Margaret mused over that as well, though she couldn't help but wonder what such runes would do to someone who gave up living. Would they devolve into a ghoul-like thing, something that would follow Liila around, expecting orders?
Not that Liila would do that to someone.
Not intentionally.
Margaret thought back to the way Liila always treated Gobber like he was still a person and shivered.
Finally, she looked back at Mitchell. "If you're not angry about being… By the Dark Lady, are we immortal?"
Mitchell shrugged a little.
Margaret's brow shot up as even more possibilities skittered through the darker recesses of her mind. She pushed them aside with a sharp shake of her head. "Then why are you upset?"
Face twisting with a juvenile agony, he looked at her, desperate. "Because! I wanted to be the one to save you!" He pressed one of his hands against his chest. "I wanted to be the one to make it better! I didn't want to just piggyback off someone else's work! I wanted it to be me!"
As soon as his outburst was done, he recoiled into himself, looking more terrified than she'd ever seen him. "Mitchell…"
He turned away, curling up, hands against his scalp, a few fingers even flattening part of his beloved Mohawk. "Don't. Don't tell me I'm just a kid! Don't tell me that it's sweet or cute or whatever!" His voice broke like he might start crying again. "I don't want to be the sidekick! I want to be the hero! Your hero!"
That pang in her chest echoed again, and Margaret could have sworn that she felt her heart beat for a breath. It was, of course, just her imagination.
Moving quickly to him, she wrapped her arms tightly around him, pulling him to her. He wrapped his arms around her as well, trembling as he began to cry again. As she cradled him against her, she smiled faintly, humming an old song that had always helped her in life.
How odd that it would come to her now of all times.
Or perhaps not.
"Liila might be able to stave off death, but you're the one that got their heartbeats going again," she offered when he'd calmed down a second time. Leaning back a little, she cupped his face and grinned at him, pressing her forehead against his. "Don't you get it, Mitch? You are the hero, here."
~"~
Cloudless appeared in the cavern that housed the arrivals to Thunder Bluff, nearly colliding with a forsaken mage who was mulling about, seemingly bored with her surroundings. He didn't even offer an apology as he tore past her, dodging a few other casters in the process. When he reached the lip of the cave, his momentum carried him over the edge.
It was a fortunate thing that he'd spent a good portion of his time in Outland learning how to take on an avian form, or his quest to find Skybow would have ended rather abruptly.
As it was, he startled a few braves who had seen him go careening over the ledge by shifting forms midair and then soaring toward the main part of the city. He knew exactly where to head. Up on the same plateau as the bonfire and chieftain's home was a small building the braves used as a center of operations. While it wasn't as official of a military headquarters as an orc or human might use, it worked well enough for the tauren.
As he flew down to the building, he shifted back into his natural form a few feet above the ground, his hooves slamming against the earth as he dropped the last few feet and making more than a few people jump.
Despite his surprise, the head brave stationed there greeted him cordially. Cloudless barely heard him. "There's rumor that Skybow is missing? Skybow Meadowstalker?"
The brave hesitated, a bit taken aback by Cloudless' tone. Then his lips dipped into a frown. "We were hit fairly hard by an Alliance raid. We've accounted for everyone in the city, but some of our braves were sent to Bloodhoof Village. There's been a bit of confusion with gathering the names of—"
Cloudless didn't wait for him to finish speaking, instead whirling around and launching himself back into the air. His form shifted back to a bird's, and in a heartbeat he was heading to Bloodhoof.
~"~
Howl's hammer struck against steel as he beat the imperfections from his latest work, sparks flying. The sound echoed around him, filling his ears.
He knew that Embry had gone off to find his letter, thinking it was some sort of treacherous threat to the Horde, and was rather worried that she'd gotten it away from Lash. While they'd sent out messages saying that their stones were clear to use, Howl still wasn't comfortable writing a message about his secret affair. If there was one thing he'd learned, it was that the guild stones could store information for a good, long while, and he didn't want anyone getting a hold of his. What if someone went after Veena because they thought to get rid of her so that he would stay loyal to the Horde?
Sure, he'd dared to ask Lash if it had been delivered in as vague a way as possible, but the orc hadn't ever responded, and Howl didn't want a record of desperation to mark his worry.
Trying to avoid such horrifying thoughts, Howl attempted to focus on his work. It wouldn't do to lose a finger because he'd let his mind wander. Veena might still love him, even if he was short an appendage—she would, wouldn't she?—but it would make his attempts to become better with his letters considerably more painful, especially if he lost a finger from his right hand.
It was hard to concentrate, though. His own problems aside, the entire damned guild seemed to be in chaos over the last few weeks, and he was still bogged down with work that wouldn't let him be much assistance for another day or so.
Well, really, most things were calming down, relatively. The goblins had upset the economic stability of Orgrimmar for a few days, though that had been smoothed out. Cloudless was settling into the city. Blood had finally talked to his wife and son. Gore had become a full-time guild leader. Roberts had been rescued, and he was working on finding the one who had nearly murdered—had murdered, really—Gregor and Timmons. It had to be one of Sylvanas' people. That she would want to stem an attempt to find a cure for the plague baffled Howl. Or had that been someone else? A hidden faction within the forsaken, perhaps?
It was something to look into, once he was a free orc again.
He still felt guilty that he hadn't helped, though.
It was something that would settle as they headed to Northrend, at least.
Genji had commissioned Howl to make Khai'rhi a new mace and shield, as he wanted her protected to her fullest when they headed to Northrend. Howl woudl start on that as soon as he had some time to breathe. There were one or two projects he was hoping to get to before they left, but he wasn't sure he would be able to. Perhaps he could get Blood and Leafless to help him with a few, though it seemed that Leafless was still off doing…something.
Sulking, he'd wager, though he hadn't been able to find the time to gather what exactly had happened other than 'drama'. She had apparently told them that they could summon her once they got to Northrend, because she was busy with something she wouldn't go into detail about. He'd sent her a few private messages, but she'd just told him she'd explain everything later.
That she was tired now.
He'd considered sending her a message that if she ever needed someone in her corner, he was there, but he didn't know how to word it. Besides, surely she knew that she was one of his closest friends at this point. She was an excellent fighter, and he'd always been impressed and honored to fight beside her.
More and more lately, she'd been withdrawing from guild events, and Howl was worried. He didn't know how to voice his concerns though, or who he might mention it to.
Blood, perhaps? Or would the death knight think him foolish for fretting so?
It didn't matter if he did. Howl would talk to Blood later today, even if it was the dead of night. It wasn't like Blood needed to sleep.
Howl's hammer just barely missed his hand, and he scowled down at his current project.
Word was that Garrosh was going to be asking him to go with him to Northrend. He'd have to decline that offer. After all, he'd officially stepped down as Orgrimmar's master blacksmith years ago.
"Howl!"
A familiar voice interrupted him just as he brought his hammer down again. He managed to stop just shy of breaking his hand, setting his hammer down and turning a broad smile toward the entry way to his workshop. It was about damned time. "Lash!"
As he nodded toward his guild mate, he noticed that the hunter wasn't alone. An orcess stood shoulder to shoulder with him, and Howl couldn't help but get the feeling that he'd missed even more than he'd originally thought.
"It's Gorelash Bloodeye now," Lash said, standing a little bit straighter.
All but forgetting about his work for Garrosh, Howl was instantly ushering the two over to a work bench. He cleared it off quickly and motioned for Lash to tell him the story. At first, his guild mate seemed a little reluctant, but as he hesitated, the orcess—Lash called her Kiaga, and offered a haphazard introduction—was quick to fill in the gory, magnificent details.
By the end of the story, Lash was telling it himself, proudly explaining how the leader of the tauren himself had offered the name. Howl reached over and caught Lash's head in a headlock, affectionately laughing as he shook him slightly and then let him go. "Honor to you, friend. I'm glad to hear it."
"Gore wasn't at home, so I haven't had a chance to tell him yet," Lash said once the tale was over, glancing toward the entrance to the workshop, like his uncle might stride in at the mere mention of him.
"I think he's at Whisper's Vials," Howl mused, pulling his guild stone out and checking it. With a nod, he tucked it away, noting how Kiaga seemed to already understand the guild stones at least a little. He'd figured, the way the two were connected at the shoulder, that Lash must have shown off at least a little. "We're having a guild meeting tonight, so he's getting everything set up and making sure that most everyone will be in attendance."
"Most?" Lash questioned.
"Ah, well. Leafless is…" Howl trailed off a moment before shrugging. "Leafless is running a lead. Blood or I will fill her in later. And Mitchell and Margaret had to tend to something as well."
"You don't know what?" Lash seemed surprised.
With a quick motion around the room, Howl sighed. "I've been a bit busy with all this." He paused before adding, "Apparently Gregor and Timmons have heartbeats, though, so don't be surprised by that."
With that, he was all but forced to relay what little he did know, though after a few minutes, he finally sighed and shook his head. "Honestly, you'll probably want to catch up with some of the others at the store. You do that, and you'll know more about everything than I do."
Lash laughed at that, though he nodded. As he and Kiaga rose, the orcess paused to give Howl a swift bow. "It's an honor to meet you, master smith."
"And you, hero of the Horde," he bowed his head back to her. When both of the young orcs seemed pleased by the return, he made a brief shooing motion. "Now, you'd better get going. I've got quite a bit left to do." However, as he bid them good day, he paused, thinking of his letter.
Even as he turned to call for Lash, he saw that his guild mate had hung back, waving to Kiaga who had already started down the road. The two of them stood there for a moment before Lash finally shifted, abruptly looking toward the ground, as though embarrassed. "Miss Lockspring says you should talk about stars and flowers more."
Howl paused, eyeing the orc in front of him. "You read it?"
With a heavy sigh, Lash nodded.
Howl hesitated. "So…did you think I came on too strong—"
"Please, don't."
Howl sighed. He hadn't wanted Lash to know the contents of his letter, lest something happen and the young orc get incriminated along with Howl. What was done was done, however, and he couldn't very well take it back now. "But it was sent?"
"Yes."
"Well, good then..." Howl paused and then nudged Lash. "I suppose it worked out in the end, didn't it?"
With a half-smile, Lash nodded, his gaze wandering back toward the street, in the direction that Kiaga had disappeared to. "It did."
~"~
Skybow had just finished a long day of repairing damaged tents and other structures throughout the simple village. The dead had finally been laid to rest, and their attackers' corpses burned. Though some of the civilians were still a bit skittish, jumping every time something heavy fell over, and fretting whenever a mounted figure appeared on the horizon, things were slowly falling back into place.
As he sauntered toward the inn to rest, he stopped when he heard his name being called by an all too familiar voice. Cloudless.
Turning, he scanned his surroundings, his heart fluttering despite it all. Yes, in a fit of rage he'd told Cloudless to get out. He'd felt like, more and more, his love had been slipping away from him, that he didn't even know him anymore. When a forsaken, a blighted corpse of all things, had shown up on their doorstep, it felt like Skybow had truly lost touch with him.
He hadn't expected Cloudless to really leave. He'd thought that they would argue, maybe break something accidentally, and then sulk for a few days before Cloudless would disappear for a few weeks, only to come back and have things fall back into a semi-normal routine.
That he'd actually left…
Skybow couldn't blame anyone, but himself. He'd been the one to tell him to get out. But then, could anyone blame him? Cloudless was never there.
He was off, saving the world, having adventures that he never seemed comfortable telling Skybow about, as though they had to stay secret.
Even so, the last few weeks had been lonelier than the last year and a half. There had been no letters, no looking forward to when his lover would be home. It had felt so empty.
He'd been glad for the attack on Bloodhoof Village, if only for the distraction. But then, as the fighting had died down, as the work to rebuild had dried up, he'd felt that loneliness creeping back up inside of him, leaving an empty pit in his stomach.
He'd dreamt of Cloudless' voice almost every night, of telling him that there had to be a way things could work out, that there had to be something, some middle ground they could find.
He'd dreamt of the very voice that had him scanning his surroundings now.
Even as his search turned up empty, he dared a glance up, a sharp movement catching his gaze. His eyes widened as a large bird flew straight toward him. Even as he took a step back, realizing the creature wasn't going to deviate from its course, it shifted, feathers dipping into fur as the shape expanded and twisted into someone he knew as well as himself.
Cloudless literally tackled Skybow to the ground from the air, and the two tumbled through the grass before finally coming to a stop. As Skybow tried to get a grip on what had just happened, Cloudless' arms wrapped tightly around him, tears matting the fur around his eyes.
"I thought you'd died."
Skybow lay there in the grass a moment before smiling faintly, reaching up and holding his love. Part of him wanted to chastise the druid, to point out that that dreadful fear in him was something Skybow had suffered so many times over.
Instead, he simply held him, content that, at least for now, they were together.
Things were as they should be.
~"~
Enlyhn stood in front of an empty cage, a few slabs of meat in hand as he stared past the bars. As the grand warlock stepped up to him, he didn't bother to look his way. "Where is my worgen?"
"It got loose."
"Got loose." Turning slowly toward the other 'lock, Enlyhn frowned when his superior simply shrugged. "Have the guards been alerted?"
"The damned thing already got out of the city. It was headed for Ashenvale when it managed to disperse the tracking spell we'd cast on it." Even as Enlyhn turned to go find his mount and take up pursuit—his guild mates could summon him onto the zeppelin, after all—the grand warlock lightly gripped his arm. "Don't bother. It's one mindless beast."
"I'm not so sure about that," Enlyhn confessed, deciding not to point out that a 'mindless beast' couldn't very well have dispersed much of anything. He'd seen an intelligence in the creature's eyes, even as it pretended not to understand what they said.
The grand warlock rolled his eyes. "Even if it does have a mind, what good will going to Ashenvale do? Is it going to ask the kaldorei for help?"
"Fair enough." Enlyhn sighed, glancing down at the snack he'd brought for it. With a shake of his head, he turned and began to make his way out of the cleft, pausing to toss the treats to someone's felhunter. He could worry about his lost worgen later. For now, he had a guild meeting to get to.