Paperwork. It was amazing just how quickly it popped into being, like midges after a rain. Bridge wasn't even in a unit, in any sort of a command position, and still...there it was. It seemed like a floodgate had opened up, a torrent of missives, packets and satchels finding their way to her.
What have you done to me, Darion?
She hadn't been the recipient of this much sheer communications since... Since... Since. She sighed, shaking her head. Why did this happen? Just at the moment when she thought it was far away, hidden, it all jumped back out at her.
"Bridge. There is no path into Gilneas. The gates are closed. You must, must hold until my return. We can make plans then. Please know that I love you and the children. Keep steady in the Light. I will return. I have faith in you.
Taelan."
She growled, focusing on the upper most letter. It, of course, was not a letter sent years ago from a long dead spouse, but was an update from members of the Ebon Blade active in the Borean Tundra. There was a lot of that in this pile, and Bridge understood it. She was their liaison. They were in close proximity to both Alliance and Horde movements. She needed to keep an eye on those. The large amount of information that sprang from mainline Alliance units was somewhat more surprising, but all of it seemed to have the same general idea, Brigitte seemed to be on the receiving end of a whole lot of "It might be good if the Ebon Blade was made aware of this..." Did Darion have people getting this? Were these all just in case copies? Either way, she supposed it would be wise for her to at least look at it. It had been sent to her from these units, these clerks and aides, these commanders on the ground, not from Darion. An extra pair of eyes couldn't hurt and it might help push through the unwanted memories that came from stacks of messages.
She had spent over an hour skimming movement reports, letting the information seep in. Although it had been a long time since she'd had quite this much of it, and a...
A long time since she'd seen the like from the Onslaught's units. When had those stopped coming to her? What was the last one she'd seen? When had she stopped actually being the Onslaught's commander? A puppet. A prophet. A martyr. Those were empty, empty positions, lacking power, lacking responsibility. Just a mouthpiece for insanity. But when had she stopped leading? Stopped commanding?
I don't remember.
What a mess. She'd done more real work in the past hour than she'd done in months. The last thing she truly remembered was New Avalon. She had been setting up for...defense. Yes, that was it. To defend New Avalon. But there hadn't even been a plan? Not even a hint of one? It had been a disaster, yes, the odds had been against her, but she should have put up a better showing, at least. The only firm thought in her mind had been to make the ship and flee.
Flee. She had held the only remaining bastions of the living in Lordaeron, and she'd fled? Lordaeron had been something that she knew she couldn't hold onto, it was an untenable position, but.
You weren't supposed to save it. You weren't supposed to save them. You were supposed to be run back to Northrend, back to Westwind, back to...it.
It had wanted her close. Where it could keep an eye on her. Keep control of her. And then, to let her die a convenient martyr's death.
"No." It might have gotten the convenient martyr's death for 'High General Abbendis', but Brigitte Fordring was alive, well, and free.
It was a fine realization to grasp and she smiled slight to herself, flicking through another stack. A single envelope fell out of it into her lap. It was plain, not a single letter of writing on the front, the red wax seal on the back had been pressed with a something that was not a signet...probably the bowl of a spoon judging by its size and shape.
She opened it cautiously, smoothing it open on the table.
"My daughter.
I have done as you asked.
Thank you, and I love you still.
T."
She sat for what seemed like an eternity, staring at the words. So few of them, yet so many more than she'd ever thought she get from him again. My daughter. Tirion had always referred to her as that and it was gift that he still used it. He'd done as she'd asked. She'd only asked him for one thing recently, to recover Brennan. He was the only person she'd entrust her only living child with. And he deserved to know, to see, to raise, Taelan's only living child. It was terrible to admit it, even to herself, but she was in no position to help drag Brennan out of the Onslaught. She was barely managing to drag herself out of it.
"...I love you still."
And she would do everything in her power to be worthy of that.
