October 2022: Edited and reuploaded.
Darnassian:
An'da: Father.
Dorei: Shortened for Kaldorei. May refer to a person (regardless of gender), a youngster and also can be used in plural.
Quel / Quel'dorei: Children of noble birth, also slang for Highborne.
Min'da: Mother.
Stareye
The bright morning Sun reaches his peak, announcing the morning at its fullest, although when it's a regular time of day for her people to rest and have their proper sleep, the idea feels less than appealing for Mylenne—distress and upsetness nagging her thoughts as for not having anywhere else to go but there. Her frostsaber continues her usual pace, however; her steps swift and confident over the dark green and cerulean grass adorning the inner squares of Suramar City, guiding her to where only Highborne nobles and aristocrats have settled their homes.
Also the place Mylenne never truly felt like home; the Stareye Manor, Desdel Stareye's residence.
As the hard face of her father crosses her mind—broad shoulders straightened, chin proudly held high, midnight black mane tight in a familiar bun—Mylenne flutters her eyes shut, brows cinching hard, hands unintentionally gripping harder onto Rak'shareh's fur. The beast below lowers her speed, eventually coming to a stop and turning her massive black and white striped head to her owner, one yellowish eye glancing at her with concern. Mylenne looks back at her frostsaber through crinkled slits, her lips twisting in a sad smile.
Letting go of her tight grip on her fur—not like Rak'shareh ever complained about it—she leans closer to the beast's face, stroking the bridge of her nose in a tender manner, attempting to soothe her. "What would I ever do without you, my dear Rak?" Mylenne whispers softly, a furry white ear twitching involuntarily with the sound of her voice.
Rak'shareh leans into her touch, a sweet purr rumbling through her chest with the gesture, yet it's not long before her eyes return to the dorei above, gaze gleaming with worry. Resting a lavender cheek atop her saber's head, right between her pointy ears, Mylenne's chest heaves as she sighs deeply, briefly worrying her lower lip. As much as it's popularly known among her society about creatures like sabers having a certain attunement with their owners, particular beasts like hers are also known for their natural ability to perceive, smell or see a dorei's aura—mostly so regarding magic born-people such as Sorcerers or gifted ones.
Regardless, neither is strange for Mylenne's centuries old friend and ever present companion to be able to sense her distress over the last few nights.
"Ssh, ssh… it's alright, my girl," Mylenne tries for soothing her beast, returning her hands to stroke her nose and fur over her head, "You know I can't stand to see you sad, very much less so because of me,"
Mylenne keeps a steady stroke for some minutes, her own sour mood easing with her ministrations as well as Shareh's—the saber's sad keens turning into relaxed purrs easily enough. Through the trees, a yellowish glow makes its way across the green and cerulean leaves, painting the landscape of Suramar's outskirts in bright daily colors, the Sun rays shimmering as if caressing her beast's striped fur.
She keeps stroking for another couple of minutes, feeling how her cathartic motions begin to ease Shareh and her own troubled moods, the beast's low keens turning into relaxed purrs within each caress on her fur. Soon enough, a bright yellow glow prompts Mylenne to shield her face with a forearm to avoid the Sun rays piercing her eyes.
Despite the pleasant feeling of being caressed by the Sun and surrounded by nature, the girl senses how her energies start to diminish and wear her out within each minute passing. "Mmh, how about you take us home, Rak?" She asks her frostsaber. "As deeply as I wish to avoid meeting my father, I'm afraid I still need to get some rest."
And so Rak'shareh starts to move again, this time keeping a slow and steady pace, allowing the dorei placed upon her dark jeweled saddle to bide her time and drift into her thoughts once more.
But when Mylenne's mind turns clouded and disturbed, a slow and warm breeze rises, following her path, making her long violet mane swing and wave in the air, caressing her skin and stroking her pointy lavender ears. A small smile reaches her lips and she tilts her chin upwards, allowing the breeze to cleanse her and take away the dark thoughts that were taking place in her mind.
Nature was wise and Mylenne knows that. Despite the Mother Moon's rest at that time of the day, Elune always took deep care of her children, even in her sleep.
Unfortunately, the more she ventures into the inner squares of the city, the fewer trees are to be seen, the landscape replaced by tall elegant buildings and wooden structures. And where a couple of minutes ago, Rak'shareh's steps were muffled and silent in the cerulean grass, now her claws scratch the streets made of flat gray stones, the floor more suitable for carriages and carts than for animals.
But Mylenne smiles anyway, for when the ancient and elegant structure that was her home entered her line of sight, the first thing she sees besides the reinforced door past the steel entrance gates is a big pale lavender owl, taking his usual morning nap. His big claws are latched on a curved plank next to the main entrance and above the mailbox, the owl's head resting on his chest, looking quite undisturbed; pretty much unlike his owner and the frostsaber that were on their way.
"Hello, Normosh'el," The girl greets the owl, climbing off the saddle and walking to the mailbox, raising a hand to brush the beautiful bird's feathers with her fingertips. "You came early today. You have something for me?"
The owl stirs for a second before moving his head, looking at Mylenne with his large dark eyes, releasing a low hoot in a way to greet her. But unlike the beast behind her, Normosh'el enjoys the solitude and isn't fond of long interactions, so when Mylenne starts to search for new letters, the bird returns to his peaceful sleep, the dorei below her long forgotten.
While Rak'shareh stretches her legs and enters the garden behind the house—surely to have her own well-deserved nap—Mylenne takes her correspondence, entering home and idly walking to the kitchen, conveniently placed next to a set of carpeted stairs that lead to the first floor and the bedrooms and offices above. A relieved sigh escapes her lips when she notices that her An'da is nowhere to be seen, probably quite entrenched in his work at the Black Rook Hold to take some time to return to his residence.
Thanking the Mother Moon for her sudden luck, she manages to get a piece of rice bread and sits next to the kitchen table—where servants and maids are to dine and take breaks in—sorting out the many letters addressed to her father, and finding the notable handwriting that could only belong to one man and her childhood friend.
"Dear Myl,
Work has been rather intense at the Hold, with the Moon Festival fast approaching, and I apologize for not being able to visit you these nights. I barely had a couple of hours of sleep between shifts and I am about to return home as I write this letter to you. Fortunately, I am having my night off tonight, and so does Maiev from what I know!
What do you say to coming to visit us? Sister promised to make radish kimchi, and she also mentioned how happy she'll be to get her hands on that sweet moonberry wine that you quel like so much. Surely Desdel won't notice the absence of a petty small bottle, am I right?
Anyways, with or without that wine, we'll be waiting for you. And how about taking a walk after dinner? We do have much to talk about, and thank the Goddess, not just about those absurd ideas that your father is having.
We miss you dearly and hope you can make it.
Elune-adore, my friend.
Jarod."
A dear, wishful smile reaches Mylenne's lips, taking a second read at Jarod's letter, trying to maintain that warm and pleasant feeling she always used to get when she receives his letters, if only for a moment.
She had been thinking about visiting the grave of her mother for quite a while and it's one of her intended plans—besides making some time to go to the Shadowsong's—now that she had a couple of nights free and away from the Temple. Regardless, Mylenne can't truly say no to the delightful idea of having dinner with her friends, much less when Maiev is to take care of the food.
And oh, Maiev Shadowsong was really blessed in the cuisine arts—or rather, among the trio, she's definitely the only one able to prepare something edible at the very least—and the mere thought of having the chance to taste one of her delicious dishes makes her stomach rumble loudly in expectation.
But first, she needs a well-needed rest; so she resumes her eating and downs her food with a glass of water with a newfound eagerness, and takes the stairs up to her bedroom. Kicking her leather sandals off while walking and barely pulling off the multiple metal harnesses of her initiate robes, she climbs into her massive bed, quickly falling into slumber.
Close to the time when the Moon reaches her peak, Mylenne is riding again, but this time to the northwest outskirts of Suramar City, where the trees start to grow tall and connect the city to the thick multicolored forest.
With the chilly night wind swinging her hair—now free again from braids and ties—and Rak'shareh swift in her steps, the girl wonders again why did the nobility and Suramari aristocracy decided to place their marble and stone homes so far away from the forests and, consequently, so detached from the connection and communing the land and the soil offers to their Goddess.
The answer is fast to come when the contents of her sack brush against the worn and long-used saddle that's placed upon the back of her frostsaber, the sound of glass against glass clinging to her ears. Of course, she thinks to herself, readjusting her sack to not keep hitting the beast below her; because despite their adoration to the Mother Moon, it's easy to get disconnected from their real roots when the Well of Eternity and its magical waters would satisfy all their needs.
Mylenne's not the one who could be able to deny that, though. Not when she's aware of being a gifted one with the skills for sorcery, and much less when she is in as much need as most of the Well's magical waters to maintain her vitality and energy.
Despite all that, Mylenne grew up with the ability to restrain and nullify her magic, merely using it away from prying eyes—mostly in the solitude of her home and for domestic uses, such as turning on some lights—and only when her own body was craving for a little release of her energies.
It makes her wonder again, why the Goddess would gift her with her Min'da's skill and talents for arcane magic, but also curse her not with just an An'da who would—in the next centuries after her birth—come to despise and look down upon all things arcane, but also leave her with a feeling of draining and overexertion everytime she happens to make use of the mana coursing through her body.
Her people are known for being blessed with an eternal life. So, how is it that she feels her lifespan shortening whenever she happens to cast the simplest of spells?
As fast as that thought comes, Mylenne chastises herself with a quick shake of her head—for she isn't the one to question the Goddess and Her decisions upon Her children. A small snort escapes her lips at the thought of the possible scandalized reaction her fellow Sisters would have if they could hear what had just crossed her mind.
A loud and amusing laugh takes her out of her reverie, making Mylenne open her eyes wide and look to both sides in the search for the owner of that contagious mirth. "Finally!" A feminine voice announces, coming out from her hiding place behind a wide tree. "And here she is, Mylenne Stareye returning to the land of the living. It's a blessing from the Mother Moon herself!"
"I can't believe our luck to be present and witness such a moment!" Another voice, this time from a man, teases her from behind Rak'shareh's tail and Mylenne cranes her neck to see a silver-haired man coming up to stand next to her frostsaber, an amused smirk reaching to his lips.
"Maiev! Jarod!" Mylenne cries, her voice loud with joy, before throwing herself off the beast's saddle and into the waiting arms of one of her best friends since her childhood. "By Elune, it's so good to see you!"
Jarod grabs her by the waist without difficulty, lifting her friend and giving her a crushing warm hug, making them spin in circles and waving Mylenne's violet mane, the wind toying with it and echoing their wild laughter. Maiev is quick to join the pair of kaldorei, her features contorting into a wide grin at the sight of them.
"Oh, isn't there a big hug for me too?" The silver-haired woman teases, adjusting her position and placing the weight of a big wicker basket on one of her hips, looking at Mylenne with bright eyes gleaming in expectation.
So it is when the Shadowsong brother places her on the floor, Mylenne is quick to get a hold of Maiev's basket with one hand and pushes her into a dear embrace with her free arm, mirth and joy filling the girls as well as their surroundings. Even Rak'shareh purrs at the distance, allowing the now empty handed man to stroke her fur.
While the night breeze rises once again and fills itself with the trio's happy laughter from their reunion, Mylenne lets go of her friend to gaze at the view of the forest from her spot—her heart and chest warming with pure, unadulterated joy at being surrounded by her dearest friends and the thick forest, who seems pleased as always to welcome her, if their own mirth echoing through the trees are of any indication.
Maiev places a nimble lavender hand on her shoulder, positioning herself at arm's length to take a better look at her friend. "It's good to see you too, Myl," she says, ruffling her hair and pulling Mylenne close to her again, intertwining her free arm with hers.
"Well, that's a relief, Maiev, because here I was thinking you only were happy to see Rak and my bag over here." Mylenne teases her, taking some strands of her hair out of her face with her free hand.
"Jarod!" The woman complains, looking behind Mylenne's shoulder. "You weren't supposed to tell her to bring that wine! That was rude of you!"
"Why was it rude?" Her brother asks, joining the women on their way to the Shadowsong's hut, walking right beside his guest and capturing her free arm in his. "Did your father complain at all?" Jarod says next, his bright silver eyes looking down at Mylenne.
She just snorts at his mention but refuses to let herself lost in her thoughts again; preferring the much pleasant present moment with her friends, one at each side of her, now glaring at each other like the very brother and sister they are, always pushing the other to their limits.
"Father? He hasn't come home since last week, so surely he won't notice the absence of a couple of bottles." Mylenne shrugs in the best way she can, given how trapped she is between the two siblings, noticing how Jarod's lips widen into a triumphant grin.
"A-ha! I knew it!" Jarod exclaims, raising a fist in the air in an exaggerated way, making his sister roll her eyes at him. "I tell you, sister, you should just stop trying to guess anything regarding Myl and her father and just ask me. Now… What was my prize?"
Maiev snorts loudly at his brother's mocking of her, but when Jarod places himself in front of the women and stretches a big large hand to her in anticipation, she couldn't do much more than to comply, letting go of Mylenne's arm for a moment to search for something inside her wicker basket.
"Mother Moon grant me patience…" She mutters low, her voice half serious and half joking, before taking a lunar pear and throwing it at Jarod, the man quick with his reflexes and grabbing it midair. "There you go, but save some space on that stomach of yours or you're going to miss the real food!"
Mylenne's lavender cheeks start to hurt from smiling and laughing so much, following her friends on their way onto Jarod and Maiev's home. Unlike the residential wards and inner squares from Suramar City, where the landscape is void from any trees and multicolored leaves, the outskirts of the city seem to contain what those districts miss and more.
When the houses lack any exotic façade, the huge variety of colors that make up the landscape actually compensate for everything, almost making it feel like they were in an entirely different city.
Nonetheless, when she stands before the rounded wooden door that marks the entrance of the Shadowsong's house, carved with runes and little inscriptions of old, that serves Mylenne as a reminder she's still standing in kaldorei territory. The Old Darnassian engraved at the top is also a nudge to their true past and history of their Kaldorei Empire—a stark reminder that the old ways will always remain strong, but mostly, that they were not all quel'dorei.
Maiev is quick and takes over the kitchen for her own cooking duties, leaving Jarod and Mylenne to fend for themselves and help with what's left of the preparations. When the meal is done and set on the table, they had previously downed one of the three bottles of moonberry wine Mylenne had brought for them, the trio already relaxing and letting their hair down.
As usual, the elder Shadowsong sibling doesn't disappoint, but she could only see—half amused and half frustrated—how Mylenne and Jarod devour half of their plates before Maiev could give her first taste to her own portion of radish kimchi, taking a quick trip to the kitchen and back and bringing another bottle of win with her before they start to run dry.
They don't talk much at first, quite concentrated and delighted in their dishes before making up some conversation, but as the night goes by and the second bottle of wine gets downed, they start catching up on their recent individual activities, the oldest of the Shadowsong getting all the attention at first.
"… And while the Sisters already said I might probably end up stationed on Galhara, I do hope that High Priestess Dejahna makes up her mind and sends me to Hajiri," Maiev continues her speech, finishing another glass of wine and standing up to help her brother clean up the table. "Ugh, Goddess have mercy on me if I happen to end up on Galhara." She says, barely containing a shudder, visibly against the mere idea of it.
"Was not in that settlement where the previous High Priestess, Kalo'thera, was said to 'ascend to the stars'?" Mylenne asks with genuine interest, also helping with the cleaning.
"Why, I hope you don't intend to follow the former High Priestess' steps, sister." The only man in the house remarks with a frown from his silver eyebrows, glancing at Maiev half-suspiciously.
"Oh, but that sounds exciting!" Mylenne snickers, coming from behind him and placing a hand on one of his broad shoulders, both looking at the elder sibling, her long silver mane tightened up into a large ponytail. "Think about it! We might be right now in the presence of another demigoddess, the daughter of Elune herself!" She says in the most amusing of tones, lifting a hand in Maiev's direction as if intending to present her to Jarod's own sister.
From across her shoulder, Maiev rolls her eyes annoyingly and clears her throat, a frown matching the one in her brother's forehead. "You shouldn't speak of the Goddess like that, Mylenne. That is rude of you." She points out, turning to the pair and crossing her arms over her chest.
At that, Mylenne raises her arms in the air, in the universal symbol of submission. "Alright, alright… you two are no fun." She mentions with a pout before heading to the living room, grabbing her pouch and a lighter silver-white cloak she always tends to take everywhere after her initiation at the Temple—not the same she wears inside and in between her procedures, this one more fitted to be worn outdoors.
Jarod joins her with a low chuckle and a shake of his head, taking his light leather jacket. "So, are we heading out to the city? I wouldn't mind getting my hands on more of that sweet moonberry wine." He ponders, a light smirk reaching his lips.
With that said, a massive furry head that can only belong to Mylenne's frostsaber glances at them from the other side of the window, meowing in excitement to get on the move again and making the people inside nearly explode into a fit of laughter at the saber's antics.
Maiev is the last one to get out, her mirth still subsiding and trying to adjust her cloak while turning the lights out and locking the door, a single rune briefly glowing in shades of purple. "I love that beast. She definitely needs a treat." She snickers as she joins the pair outside.
It's the middle of the night and the Moon is at its peak, finding a trio of dorei lying on Rak'shareh's soft fur on her back, shining prettily in silver-white tones thanks to the Moon's reflection on it. The Shadowsong siblings are engaged in a battle stance argument while Mylenne opts to simply rest her cheek on her saber's, now free of that heavy saddle, basking in the sensation of the moonlight caressing her flushed cheeks.
"… But I do prefer light swords rather than a longsword," Jarod continues, tilting the half-empty wine bottle closer to Mylenne's face by accident. "It's not always about stamina, sister. A one-handed sword and the agility it brings can be paramount in a situation where you might be outnumbered."
"Now you talk like Myl's father." His sister complains and snorts, removing her long silver hair off her shoulder and her pale face, slightly annoyed at the insistence of the wind to play with her locks.
The comment makes Mylenne crane her neck at her friend, looking at her past Jarod's shoulders. "But whatever father might be criticized about, we certainly can't object that he's not a respected warrior, Mai…" She retorts with a half-apologetic shrug.
"On that, we agree," Jarod adds with a thoughtful nod. But that only makes Maiev grow more annoyed somehow, looking at them with plain frustration narrowed all around her lavender face.
"By the Goddess!" She exclaims, looking at them as if they suddenly had grown a second head. "If you two agree so much with him, then why you don't get on with his crazy ideas and just bond together?"
At her irritation and her words, the two dorei look at Maiev with wide eyes on their faces, quite astonished to hear her speak in that way. "Sister, that's not—!" Jarod starts, but his friend at his side interrupts him.
"We don't agree with him!" Mylenne spits, suddenly finding it irritating that one of her best friends would bring up the object of most of her current struggles to a rather pleasing conversation. Her reaction makes the frostsaber under her rise her head and glance at her owner, slightly confused at her abrupt distressed state.
"And why is it you don't?" This time, Maiev asks in a genuine tone, yet intently avoiding gazing at the man resting between the two of them. "You've been our friend in common since we were nothing more than toddlers, and have always stood together. Even despite… you know what," The reminder makes Mylenne shiver just slightly—for all the things in the world, what her friend implies is something she never wishes to be brought into a conversation.
Taking a seated stance and crossing her legs, Mylenne faces her, "What's your point, then?"
"I know I'm his sister and might be biased, but regardless of that, I still think he's most likely the best man you can consider as a potential mate." Maiev points out matter-of-factly, "Don't you agree?"
A frustrated huff escapes Mylenne, "We've discussed this before, Maiev," She mutters, massaging the bridge of her nose with one hand, "You are like family to me, and the two dearest friends I've got in my life. It's only natural I don't think of Jarod as a piece of meat to be handled and claimed such as how you're implying!"
"But everyone eventually looks for a mate to claim, Mylenne! Even I do!" Maiev objects, "Or do you think the quel are the only ones who look forward to such a thing?"
"Of course not! What are you even—?" Mylenne tries to object, but it seems to be the breaking point for the aforementioned man between them, throwing his hands in the air irritatingly.
"Is nobody going to ask for my opinion on the subject?" Jarod exclaims, his voice terribly frustrated with the women at both his sides.
After a big exhale and a guilty silence, he first addresses his sister. "Maiev, sister, thank you for your kind words but I can speak for myself if needed." Then, he turns to Mylenne, placing a big dark hand on her knee. "Myl, you don't need to justify your decisions. I know you and consider you my family as well. It's only your father who doesn't seem to notice that."
However, when Jarod tries to lock eyes with her and soothe her thoughts, Mylenne couldn't return his stare, her eyes fluttering shut and face falling to her chest, the dark mood that'd been clouding her thoughts since many weeks ago now returning and unwilling to let her go.
Why does it seem like I need to choose a mate to bond with? She thinks to herself, fingertips idly grazing the hem of her creamy silk dress, but she doesn't dare voicing her thoughts to her friends, and much less so when Maiev had already stated her opinion so clearly to her face.
A warm hand strokes her knee, making Mylenne slowly lift her gaze at its owner. "What is it, Myl?" Jarod asks, his silver brows frowning in deep concern. "We'll find a way to sway Lord Desdel against that ridiculous idea. You know we will, you don't have to worry about that right now."
"Or, eventually, he'll get tired of insisting," Maiev adds with a shrug. "He'll find another stupid idea to entertain himself with eventually, I'm sure…"
Yet it's too late for Mylenne, her mind already focused and entrenched with such disturbing and distressing thoughts to keep pretending she's having somewhat of a good time with her friends. Not thinking much about it, she rises from her spot, not entirely aware the gesture prompts the Shadowsong siblings to stare at her, their faces visibly concerned.
"I… sorry, I think I need to take a walk," She quickly excuses herself, quickly glancing at the Main Square, "I'll make sure to bring something more to eat and drink, don't worry."
Despite her lame excuses, she heads off without waiting for a response, her long and unbraided violet mane following her steps.
They're near sunrise and the Mother Moon gets close to coming to her resting hideout, and still, the Main Square is yet bursting with life; from merchants to aristocrats and guards, the loud chatting and prattling of bypassers reach her ears way before Mylenne even reaches the plaza.
Downcast and immersed in her thoughts, her feet still find their way into the decorated square, only raising her head when the smell of pine bread reaches her nose. Without thinking twice—and probably because procuring more food and drinks for her and her friends isn't truly in Mylenne's list of main priorities—she adjusts her silver cloak more firmly over her shoulders, deciding to just get on with it before resuming her walk.
After collecting her purchases she heads to the center of the plaza, noticing a small crowd gathered in the square. The girl narrows her eyes in curiosity, idly wondering what's all the fuss about, to only lock her eyes on the back of a broad-shouldered, bright green-haired man, recognizing him—and the two women joining him, if their white robes are of any indication—within an instant.
But what truly prompts her attention—even despite her efforts to do exactly the opposite—and can't help locking her gaze on, is the golden-eyed dorei walking straight into the crowd, his pace confident and determined. He's dressed in a red and silver robes that can only belong to an initiate of the Moon Guard; his long, dark cobalt ponytail following his steps.
For some reason, a strange ache burns at her chest at the sight. Is that elegant smile, that self-assurance, that confidence in those steps, what you truly become once you find your path in life?
Yet suddenly, when past the shoulder of a long navy-haired woman, Illidan Stormrage's golden eyes lock with hers—as if he knew all along, somehow, that someone was watching him—her breath hitches and her heart races wildly, her cheeks darkening in a deep blush. As fast as she can, she casts her gaze away from the handsome man, not helping herself, abruptly turning to go anywhere but there.
Only to crash half of her face into a broad bare chest, making her grunt in pain and dropping the wine and bread that she's carrying on the floor; visibly flinching as the bottle of moonberry wine explodes on impact, splashing everything at its sides.
Audibly gasping, Mylenne covers her mouth with both hands after she notices the lower folds of a man's expensive pants get ruined nearly beyond repair; dark purple stains getting even bigger as the silk absorbs the wine. His pale leather shoes and Mylenne's sandals also take a lot of damage, as well as the lower hem of her creamy silk dress, now soaked with the liquid.
"I am so, so sorry…" She starts to apologize, her silver eyes wide with deep guilt and remorse.
The man's enraged face says otherwise though, staring at her as if throwing daggers with his eyes only, face twisted in indignation. "Sorry!?" He exclaims, his voice loud and filled with anger. "You ruined my best robes and you are just sorry?"
But then, the man blinks when he realizes that, thanks to his outburst, a lot of heads turn his way, making his face distort even more, as if struggling to contain his ire and maintain some dignity. In her shock and remorse, Mylenne can't do much but cast her eyes to the floor, lips pressed in a thin line—yet partly trying her best not to let out a loud cackle at the so hilarious way the man's face contorts so drastically.
The offended guy fumes before her, apparently deciding to slither elsewhere and prevent more people from spotting him in such an awful and undignified state. "You will pay for this, lowborn." He mutters with clenched teeth before taking his leave, his visible indignation prompting most dorei to step aside and let him pass.
Fortunately to Mylenne, the sudden crowd that gathered around swiftly starts to dissipate, tending to themselves and leaving her alone with her mess. When the enraged man finally gets away from her sight, she drops to her knees, scrambling to recover whatever's left of the pine nut bread she'd bought, giggling softly and quietly to herself.
I shouldn't have drank that much wine. Should stick to harmless ale from now on, Mylenne thinks inwardly, soft giggles turning into louder chuckles, eyes watering at her self-amusement. Just the reminder of that man's face contorting with such sheer embarrassment makes her laugh even more; not truly making an effort of recovering what's left of her ruined purchases—for they're useless now, after all. Father would be sooo embarrassed if he'd be around right now…
All so suddenly, it's not long after her mirth subsides and she wipes her tearful eyes, that she notices another pair of leather shoes pointing at her, right at the corner of her eyes. Uh, oh…
As caution grips at her, Mylenne's eyes go up ever so slowly; first finding the symbol of a crescent silver moon resting in the middle of a bare muscled chest, then glancing at a pair of bright golden eyes who are staring back at her in deep, shameless amusement.
Her lips open slightly, but she finds her mouth is suddenly dry—her treacherous tongue daring to disobey and peeking out just an inch, wetting her lips. A single cobalt brow quirk up in interest at the subtle gesture, and Illidan Stormrage crosses his muscled arms over his chest, resting his weight on a hip, the smirk on his dark lips only widening.
"So, consider me curious…" He begins, the baritone of his voice caressing Mylenne's ears with its lustrous, slightly erotic tone. "What is it you find so amusing about my officer?"
