November 2022:Edited and reuploaded.
Darnassian:
Dorei: Shortened for Kaldorei. May refer to a person (regardless of gender), a youngster and also can be used in plural.
Min'da: Mother.
Ishnu-talah Kaldorei: (Old Darnassian) "Blessed be the everlasting Kaldorei."
Elune-adore: "Elune be with you."
Stareye
Mylenne does her best by keeping up her best card face—expressions serene, collected and neutral—but however, the deeply intense stare from the man before her is near to ruin almost all her efforts of maintaining a resemblance of composure.
And that charming smirk coming from his dark lips only gets her to deepen her blushing even more so. What makes it worse, he's more than aware of what he's provoking in her—if the obvious tilt of his head is any indication of—the tips of his cobalt ponytail brushing playfully on his shoulder before resting upon his back.
For there is something his posture and utter self-confidence nearly screams all around, and that's that Illidan Stormrage is very, very conscious of his effect on people—something which seems to take advantage of constantly.
"Did your tongue get lost with your purchases as well, Mylenne?" He wonders, rolling his tongue ever so slowly as he spells her name, an elegant brow quirking up in questioning.
Her ears twitch at the sound of his voice, blood rushing to them, her gaze so deeply focused on the way his lips move ever so provocatively. She doesn't truly process his words properly, or can't make much of them other than just white noise. It's as he takes a step closer when her eyes finally dislodge and return to his intense stare, heart racing so fast at the sight of such a handsome man it gets her entire face to grow flushed, her heartbeats the only sound pumping through her ears.
When her blush couldn't get even deeper and more embarrassing, she reacts the only way her body allows it: By exploding into a fit of laughter.
"I-I was… hahaha!" She tries for words, yet it's no use, her tongue unable to make up any words, body bending down as a fit of giggles assault her, "T-that man… y-you-ahahaha!" The least she can do is struggle for some breath in between, growing even more flushed, mirthful tears streaming down her face. Some strands of her long mane brush over her cheeks and she attempts to look presentable, yet soon enough gives up entirely in regards to preserving some composure, hands resting on her knees and cackling freely and unabashedly.
It appears her genuine laughter gets contagious though, as in the next moment, Illidan is chuckling above her. "Is it me or someone has drunk a tad bit too much?" He says in a teasing tone, taking another step closer and outstretching a hand to her. "Let me help you up. There's nothing down there you can really salvage anyways…"
She doesn't think much of it and takes the offered hand, the dorei not showing any effort whatsoever into helping her stand up. And yet, right as Illidan drops his free hand atop her shoulder—in an attempt to help her regain her balance—when a very odd tingle courses through her, traveling across her neck, shoulder and left arm, making Mylenne startle in surprise.
The smallest of gasps drops off her lips at the sensation, like a shock of electricity running deep through her and prompting her heart to beat even faster. Apparently, Illidan experiences the same strange feeling as her, if the cinching of his cobalt brows are of any indication.
Her gaze drops elsewhere in some uncertainty, but from the corner of her eye she notices him hesitating somewhat—not removing his hand off her shoulder though. "What… was that?" She finds herself asking in a murmur, only for him to hear.
Another step closer, and Illidan's suddenly so into her personal space, her nostrils fill with quite a particular scent; it smells of a mix of oak trees with a refreshing aroma of pure moonlight, but there's also a slight sour scent in between—the latter, something Mylenne isn't able to pick up or either pinpoint the source.
She believes it's how magic smells like. It has to be that.
"'That'?" He starts, matching her low voice and keeping their conversation more private, golden eyes first traveling to the slit between her lips before resting on her silver gaze, that deeply charming smirk returning with full force. "That's the magic coursing through your veins."
At his words, her face goes pale, growing more sober all in a sudden and quickly tearing her gaze off his stare, subtly stepping back and away from his touch. "N-no, I… I'm afraid you must be mistaken—"
"But am I?" He ponders, highly skeptical, thankfully letting her go—although with some evident reluctance. "How is it, then, that I can see the arcane flowing around you? That I can even smell such pure magic within you?"
Illidan's brows curl into a deep frown at her silence, nearly lost for a reaction from her part—even, somehow, strangely shocked, if she can assume so by the look of his face. "Why do you deny your natural talents?"
Before she's forced to give any answer—and as a merciful gift from the very Goddess—the noise of sandals reach their ears, prompting both of them off their small reverie. Her new acquaintance cranes his neck somewhat annoyingly at their interruption, both spotting three well-known faces approaching them.
"Mylenne!" The girlish voice of her fellow Sister, Sylenna, gasps slightly. The lady quickens her pace, fast approaching with a worried frown narrowing her pristine face, nearing Illidan's side. "By the Goddess! What happened?"
"Sister! Are you well?" Priestess Tyrande irrupts as well, peeking a concerned glance from behind Illidan's shoulder; his twin brother, Malfurion, right behind the two of them.
Mylenne's eyes go quickly to the man before her, pleading with him ever so subtly, and notices how Illidan tries with much effort to contain his irritation at their sudden interruption; raising a hand and rubbing the side of his face to stop the frustrated twitch of his eye. "Nothing so serious, Tyra," He begins, his voice flat and neutral, "Only that the Sister happened to collide with Latosius…" His stare returns to her face at that, "Which is my officer, in case you didn't notice." He remarks with a quirk of his brow.
"Mmh, you don't sound that upset about it, brother," Malfurion points out with a tilt of his head, strands of bright green hair flowing down one of his shoulders gracefully.
At that, his twin chuckles visibly, turning to face his other three acquaintances—finally reprieving her from his stare. "Why would I? You should've looked at his face, it was priceless!" Illidan admits, his mirth turning into genuine, contagious laughter.
She has to crane her neck up to look at him—Illidan's a head and so taller after all—partially astonished at his statement. And no matter her efforts, she can't help but join the little amusement that seems to surround the group, snickering softly, something fluttering softly within her.
Illidan's true mirth sounds just so nice to her ears, she can't help it.
"He looks like quite a grumpy man, isn't he?" Malfurion adds, face barely hiding his wide amused smile.
"Indeed," Sylenna grants with a seemingly shy smile on her elegant face. However, her focus clearly seems to be elsewhere. "But, Mylenne, um… you look like a mess…" She says, eyebrows furrowing in concern as her gaze drifts down and takes a better look at her fellow Sister.
At her mention, Mylenne follows her eyes and looks down, realizing the object of her worries: Dark purple stains and splotches now cover the hem of her creamy silk dress, the fabric absorbing the remaining of the wasted moonberry wine, making the stains reach almost her knees. By taking a simple look at it, it seems obvious the garment looks ruined beyond repair.
In addition to that, her violet mane feels disheveled, ruffled and messy by lying atop her furry beast for quite too long. Long strands of her hair, she now notices, are falling down her face and shoulders, and it's probably for the best Mylenne doesn't focus on her back, for she's sure there are still vestiges of Rak'shareh's bright fur clinging on her dress and back of her head.
Sylenna's right. I must look ridiculous! She thinks inwardly, her blush returning with a renewed force, embarrassment prompting her to look away from her companions. This is probably why Illidan looks so amused… oh, Mother Moon! He must be thinking the worst of me right now!
Hyper-conscious of her looks, she tries smoothing her hair and ties her very long violet locks into a casual messy bun quickly and swiftly. And yet—oddly so, as if she'd voiced her panic—a strong, dark hand lays upon her shoulder.
"Mylenne, are you truly well?" Illidan turns to her again, baritone voice deep in worry, golden eyes searching for hers as if he hadn't first noticed such precarious state before. "You look pale… again."
"I'm fine," She mutters, trying her best to step away from him and his oh so warm touch—however tempting it is—prompting him to frown even more. "But I should go, though. My friends are waiting for me." She insists, purposefully not looking at the four dorei surrounding her.
Regardless, given the deep frown from her new acquaintance, he doesn't seem up to taking another rejection from her part. "You already said the same last night," Illidan clicks his tongue disapprovingly, "How about you just indulge me and let me walk you over this time?"
Before she can protest again, he captures the crook of her arm in his, giving Mylenne no other choice but to let him join her in her walk. "Ah, er… sure."
Returning Malfurion, Priestess Tyrande and Sylenna a farewell with curt nods, she admits—if just to herself—how thankful she is for the company. For as her feet start to move, she notices how her legs are a little bit wobbly and unsteady.
However, Mylenne can't help to notice Sylenna's evident disappointment, her arms limp and laid to the sides, staring at Illidan's back with chagrin narrowed all over her dark-skinned face. Sadly, he doesn't seem to quite catch that—or simply ignores it, that seems like something he'd do—turning his back at the neglected Sister and purely focusing on the dorei at his side.
It's not right or even in her good manners at all, yet Mylenne still smirks inwardly at the gesture—feeling prettier and somehow more appreciated, even at the expense of someone else's frustration. It's most likely a very petty feeling, but she just can't help it, although she doesn't let it show at all.
On their way back and with the sunrise nearly upon them, Mylenne marvels at the beautiful landscape displayed upon them; the dark blue sky shifting into shades of purple and mauve with each passing minute, announcing the coming of morning and the rest of the Mother Moon. While she still feels Illidan's golden eyes somewhat fixed on her, she's still thankful for the companionable silence; her tense shoulders and muscles on her neck relaxing with his safe hold on her arm, leading her along.
Not to mention, and guessing by purely his attitude—with broad shoulders straightened, chin held up high—her newest acquaintance truly seems to be enjoying the single act of walking her anywhere. It makes her feel grateful he's not merely playing a part, but genuinely joining her because he wants to.
And taking some pride in doing it, even.
Still, she's well aware of the fact that most of his reasons for his actions could also be related purely to feed his already quite big ego; an attitude she's definitely no stranger from, although somehow doesn't entirely upset her. It's harmless to her, after all, so why does it have to unsettle her anyway?
She's curious of his intentions, but it's after she clears her throat slightly when his baritone voice reaches her ears. "Within one minute, you're bursting into laughter," Illidan elaborates, not truly looking at her, "But then, a moment later, you look close to gloomy and miserable. It's… confusing, to say the least."
A deep sigh escapes her lips, yet she keeps her silence, not feeling like wanting to explain herself or voice her thoughts to this dorei she barely knows. Her eyes idly travel to a silver bracelet adorning his wrist, lavender fingertips carefully brushing over the metallic surface, ancient runes in Old Darnassian engraved into it, reading 'Ishnu-talah Kaldorei'.
The ancient phrasing happens to be an old motto known to be used by the Moon Guard, mostly to the ones initiating in the Order. As to why such schools keep using the currently outdated Darnassian scripts and runes, she can guess it's purely not to let their people's history be forgotten.
His pleasure for her touch seems to be evident as she notices the muscles of his arm relaxing even more so, wrist shifting to the side as if his own skin looks forward to being stroked. Even his voice softens, wondering, "Anyone can tell you've got the talents for sorcery just by looking at you. What can be troubling you so much for you not to embrace such a remarkable thing?"
Mylenne's fingers twitch, barely containing her sharp intake of breath. "I… don't have such a thing." She mutters with clenched teeth, refusing to elaborate.
Illidan slows his pace, turning to look at her in what seems like a genuinely shocked expression. "What? I… I don't understand," He stammers a bit, "Why do you say that? And why you keep denying it?" He asks again, mouth frowning in concern.
Her legs slightly wobble again, somewhat revealing her distressed state of mind. There's something about Illidan's incredulity on the subject that can't do anything but upset her, somehow. "And why do you think this… magic is a gift, a talent to embrace?" She asks back.
"Because I don't question our Goddess, and her blessings upon Her children," Illidan answers without hesitation, utterly convinced of his words, "And having born with abilities for sorcery can't be anything but a blessing from Her."
His answer somehow shocks her. A blessing? This… twisted magic, these uncontrollable energies, are a blessing to him? By the Goddess, if Min'da could hear this man right now, she would… she would…
Her Min'da would do nothing… but she's not her Min'da.
"You're mistaken, Illidan. This is anything but a blessing to me." Her words blurt off her mouth before she can stop them; jaw tightening and silver eyes fluttering close. She holds her breath in a weak attempt to stop the sudden rush of long past memories trying to assault her mind, with little to no avail.
The soothing sound of her Min'da's voice rushed through her ears, her laughter filling her senses like the most wonderful music. The image of her wide smile, brightening everything around her, filled her senses, and there was nothing similar that could spur her on like that—nothing that could make her so happy and whole like her laughter.
And then, the pretty singing of beautiful purple sparrows, their translucent magical wings fluttering in the air, circling and following the tall woman, unable to take their eyes away from her. Just exactly like her daughter's adoring gaze, like the warm breeze from the forest following her every step. How could they do otherwise? How could they turn away from such beauty, such power, and not bask in her smile just once? Just for a mere second, just…
A strong, dark hand grips her nimble fingers, an ever so small brush from his thumb prompting another strange tingle on Mylenne's wrist. The sensation slowly expands across her arm and clears the thick fog that was clouding her mind with memories of old, if only for a moment.
With a blink, she realizes they had stopped. Her confused eyes travel up, lilac lips slightly open in awe at the sight of the first rays of sunlight caressing Illidan's sharp features, enhancing his golden—and now, gleaming with worry—eyes, then focused on her.
Her heart takes a double jump again. How could it be that—even if behaving like such a confident and deeply arrogant man—Illidan Stormrage seems nothing but oh, so utterly beautiful?
He leans an inch closer to her, seeming to try to get her complete attention. "I don't truly know what's troubling you so much about it, Mylenne," Illidan says, voice soft yet filled with concern and deep curiosity, "The arcane is meant to enhance us, not shackle us. I can only presume you're scared about it, or don't have any control over it. But—" He licks his upper lip, as if pondering over his words, "I can be of help, if you allow me…"
"H-help?" She breathes, the brief peek of his tongue distracting her, not helping at all to find her voice, "Why would you do that? Why would I w-want your help?" Her voice keeps faltering, breath hitching at his closeness.
If Illidan's conscious of her nervousness, he certainly does a fine job in hiding it, for then he turns to fully face her, hand dropping hers and going to her bare shoulder in reassurance. "Because that magic within you can fully control and overwhelm you if you don't do something about it." He explains, features turning serious for once.
A sudden frown crosses her pale forehead, "That's nonsense," She can't help exhaling, shaking her head, "What are you talking about, Illidan?" She asks, voice showing her disbelief.
"The arcane within you, within us, is nothing but raw energy. And those energies need to be released and controlled at the very start before they control you." Illidan clarifies, shoulders slouching when the girl in front of him deepens her frown, "Think about it as the air you breathe: You may try to hold your breath as long as you can, but eventually, your lungs will force you to take oxygen or either they'll collapse. It's inevitable."
The sound of familiar leather sandals and heavy paws brushing over thick grass makes her ears twitch, her eyes turning to the source. Not that far ahead, Mylenne glimpses a couple of silver-haired dorei, walking side by side with a frostsaber following their steps, rounding the corner of the street.
Her body visibly deflates when she glimpses the Shadowsong siblings approaching, eyes softening at the knowledge of having them nearby. Nonetheless, a warm touch upon her shoulder makes Mylenne turn her attention to the man in front of her.
"You still haven't answered my question. Why you wish to help me?" She reiterates, "You don't know me."
An elegant, dark cobalt eyebrow quirks up questioningly, his former concerns fading from his face. "Can't it be because I'd like to?" He says, that ever so charming smirk returning to his lips once again.
For her sake—or rather, it feels like it—Illidan lets go of her shoulder, placing some proper distance between them. His stare doesn't waver though, golden eyes boring into her and capturing every slight reaction; surely noticing firsthand how her slight blushing returns to her cheeks, and then her eyes rolling to the side in partial amusement.
With her senses slowly returning, she decides to remain teasingly silent, letting her subtle smirk speak for her instead of her words. But then, turning away to resume her walking, she's caught by some surprise when Illidan takes a quick step and places himself before her, blocking her way and view. "Wait, Mylenne. I—may I ask you one more question?"
The sudden shift and different tone of his voice makes her blink in surprise. It nearly feels as if he's trying to buy some more time with her, and the bare thought of it renders her speechless and still in her spot.
"I believe you don't have a partner to attend the Moon Festival with, isn't it?" Illidan asks then, if too quickly, almost stumbling over his own words.
She quirks a curious brow, "You're right, I don't." Mylenne replies flatly, without thinking, somehow too entranced with the sudden change in her companion's attitude and voice to truly consider what he's implying.
And the answer to his true implication comes instantly as, in the next moment, one of his dark, strong hands grab her nimble palm in his, holding it close to his chest. "Would you like to go with me?" Illidan says, voice small and soft yet so certain—not precisely shy, but feeling like trying his best to voice his inner thoughts.
Mylenne's head can't help tilting backwards in surprise and disbelief, although her reaction is not entirely related to his unexpected proposal, but more because of the abrupt change in his attitude. Mere seconds ago she was facing the confident, nearly arrogant and ever so flirty personality Illidan Stormrage portrays everywhere and to everyone, but now… it's like she's staring at an entirely different dorei.
His blunt proposal certainly confuses her, if anything.
While she's aware she merely knows a tiny thing about him—even when it's difficult to do otherwise, given how hard it is to not be knowledgeable of at least the name of every Suramari dorei—Mylenne would be stupid to just believe she'd need to get more acquainted with Illidan to truly know what it is said about him.
And the overall opinion doesn't really paint him in a good light, frankly.
For everyone that'd interacted with Malfurion's twin at least once, had voiced out about his terribly charming personality—one that borders on manipulative. His deep awareness of his effect on women and men has not been left out either, as well as his not-so-discrete tendency to take advantage of every tool at his disposal to use for his own purposes, whether for good or ill.
If Illidan Stormrage were to be a nobleman of the court, he'd be titled 'The Beguiler' by most accounts—if he hadn't been already, with his slow yet strong and all too evident upbringing into the Moon Guard Order as a notable Sorcerer.
However, all that former knowledge doesn't do anything but leave Mylenne perplexed about his present display. While she was thoroughly prepared and even expecting his shameless teasing, what was that hesitance in his tone? That strange shyness even?
Most importantly: Why would he ask her, of all dorei, to join him on the Moon Festival?
He could have anyone he fancied at his feet in mere minutes—and the thought of it makes the image of the disappointed Sister they'd left at the plaza cross her mind, as a perfect example—and without any difficulty whatsoever. Why then would he be interested in her, one of the very few girls in Suramar not yet having fallen into his charms? Her, a rather shy introverted woman who has little to nothing to offer?
"Why do you ask me and not Sylenna?" Mylenne then blurts out her innermost thoughts, "She seems to be the most interested in going with you, if you ask me."
She notices the small offended frown at the bridge of his sharp nose at the mention of her fellow Sister but decides not to dwell on it. However, what is really odd for her is the confusing blinking of his golden eyes at her words. "You don't really know why? Are you that oblivious to it?" Illidan says as if he doesn't believe what he's hearing.
Her brows deepen into a frown too, "Perhaps I am." Mylenne sets for admission, growing a little tired of answering questions with more questions. Also, the huge amount of doubts assaulting her mind doesn't help her in any way to think clearly.
"I am asking you, however. Would you like to go together?" Illidan then repeats, now blatantly making a huge effort not to look irritated, if the tightening of his jaw is of any indication.
It is pretty obvious though. He doesn't seem to like being questioned about his actions.
But the slow and slight return of his somewhat familiar attitude—that part of his personality she's aware and ready to deal with—does help her into wrapping up her thoughts about him, prompting her to bite her lower lip in an attempt to hide her smirk once understanding dawns on her. Ah, of course, she then realizes, slapping herself mentally for not figuring that out before.
It's not he's truly interested in me, Mylenne concludes inwardly. He's only looking forward to the challenge. The thought itself makes her want to physically slap herself for being so oblivious to that, feeling like a fool for her former childish thinking.
The realization somehow upsets her—for she'll never fully know why men would always make her feel like some piece of meat to be claimed. And so, prompted by her own indignation, Mylenne crosses her arms tight around her chest, choosing to give Illidan a little piece of his own medicine.
"You were right with what you said to Sister Thania, last night," She begins, narrowing her silver eyes, chin held high and looking at his face when she speaks, defiant. "And I'm not concerned about bringing a partner with me. I have many obligations to attend to before focusing on such trivial matters." Her tongue rolls slowly in her mouth at her last words, repeating Illidan's ones with a hint of mockery in her voice.
But then, her confidence almost falters as that charming, disarming smirk returns to his dark lips with full force; and Illidan takes a step closer, daring to enter her personal space and certainly confirming her previous doubts about his attitude. He definitely likes to be challenged.
"You're certainly making a good job of rejecting me, Mylenne." He then confesses, voice deep and teasing—not stepping back from his true intentions in the slightest. It makes the tips of her sensitive ears slightly twitch in mere pleasure of just hearing that taunting baritone.
She tries maintaining her composure and defensive stance, yet Illidan's near burning stare on her doesn't help whatsoever. Her heart starts to race once more at his close proximity—oak trees and masculine musk and that sour scent filling all her senses, messing thoroughly with her head.
"And when have I rejected you?" She wonders, opting for deflection before truly struggling with all the words lodged in her tongue.
His smirk then widens into a full grin, seeming quite aware of what she's trying to do. "Is that a yes, then?" Illidan tilts his head to the side, gaze wandering across her face, a seductive spark crossing his eyes.
It's as his hand then wanders to her shoulder, seemingly attempting to brush some of her violet strands away from her face, when her defensive stance finally crumbles. Illidan's golden eyes flash in deep satisfaction when her traitorous body then shudders in reaction to the ghost touch of his fingertips on her skin.
Goddess, please grant me strength, she can't help with pleading, eyes fluttering close, making her best to collect what's left of her sanity. Nonetheless, she can't keep the pleased sigh escaping her lips at his gesture.
It's not truly romantic or erotic, but a part of her deeply wishes Illidan would hold her in his arms just for a moment—that he could wash away all those tormenting thoughts crossing her mind.
And it's somewhat unusual to say the least, but it's her body who ends up winning the inner battle against her head, and she finally relaxes, leaning to the warm touch of his fingers upon her shoulder. "No," Mylenne teases, almost not helping it, "But… perhaps I'll see you there anyway." She finishes, biting her cheek to hide the cheeky smirk that threatens to show on her face.
She dares to look at him again through her lashes, finding Illidan's smirk now transformed into a wide pleased smile, almost leaving her breathless—clearly, he takes that as an opportunity. It makes her knees tremble and she can't help it in any way when her body betrays her once more; her hands lifting to grab his shoulders, pushing him down for her to place a full, warm kiss on one of his dark cheeks.
He leans his face into her, fingers slightly gripping her shoulders more tightly; as if his own body too battles with the same hesitation she had, all but craving to feel her touch, her lips, the feeling of her, if only for another moment.
"Elune-adore, Illidan." She whispers near his jaw, senses filling with his masculine scent, feeling more than hearing the satisfied sigh dropping off his lips close to her ear. Procuring herself some safe distance, she smiles at him, "And thank you for the walk."
After a moment of hesitation, he finally lets go of her, allowing her to fully step back and watch his broad chest taking a deep breath, satisfaction fully narrowing his features.
"It was my pleasure, Mylenne." Illidan replies with an elegant tilt of his head, never taking his eyes away from her. "I'm looking forward to meeting you at the Festival…"
She's the first to turn and walk away, heading in the direction where she'd last seen her friends and saber. However, not even the warm breeze of the incoming morning is able to brush away the smirk plastered on her lips, or the almost burning touch she can still feel on her shoulder.
