Darnassian:
Ishnu-alah: "Good fortune to you". A greeting.
Alah darnana dor: Formal greeting.
Alor'el ana: Arcane spell.
Sael'ah: "You're welcome."
Stormrage
"Ishnu-alah, Mylenne. It is so good to see you."
He meant it, just as he meant every single word he had ever said to her. However, as for being the second kaldorei around the square blessed with the Mother Moon's skills for arcane magic, Illidan knows that 'good' wasn't the word he was looking for.
In fact, he is delighted to see her.
Illidan feels more than sees the uncomfortable shifting and the confused stare of his brother, alone at the bottom of the marble stairs leading to the Temple of Elune. Although a small part of him feels pleased with the small retribution he gets—the ever so bittersweet taste of payback—the rest of his senses are focused on the violet-haired woman in front of him.
With the pale moonlight reflecting on both of them, the hairs on his neck get up in sudden realization of how time seemingly had stopped for him. Illidan's vision gets blurry and dark around the corners and the natural need for blinking and adjust his sight never comes. Everything starts to distort and fade into thick black in his surroundings; from the massive alabaster columns of the Temple's main entrance to the cerulean trees adorning the plaza.
Every single detail fades, except her. His breath hitches, marveling at the view of her bright long—oh so long, and he could spend weeks by only looking at it—violet mane rippling in waves, caressing her bare shoulders and arms. A sharp tang of pure jealousy rushes through him with the sight of the wind, its invisible fingers daring to stroke her skin without remorse or fear of breaking the spell that encloses her.
The pupils of Illidan's eyes glow in delight at the view of the pale purplish-blue aura that comes out of her skin, making it sparkle and shine with the reflection of the Moon all over her, enhancing her bright silver eyes, filled with wonder and innocence. And her creamy silk robes did nothing but accentuate every curve of her slender, delicate body. His mouth goes dry, for he could not think of another sight more stunning than her.
That beauty, that grace, could only be compared—and Mother Moon may forgive him for his boldness—with the Goddess herself.
And then, it took only a blink for the spell to disappear and her magical energy to recede inside of her. However, thanks to his magically enhanced senses, the aura of her never fades completely.
After what it seems like eons to him—but probably it were mere seconds—Malfurion climbs the stairs to stand beside his brother, bowing his green-haired head respectfully at Mylenne. "Alah darnana dor, Sister." He greets her with a polite smile.
Illidan glances at his brother through the corner of his golden eyes, frowning in thought at the casual sound of his voice. For a moment, he wonders if he is the only kaldorei in the world blessed with the ability to see the natural beauty of Mylenne, for he couldn't understand how such a remarkable woman as her could even walk the lower areas of Suramar City without anyone suggesting her against it.
The outskirts of the city belong to the poor and the unworthy. It is the place for the ones without households, without important names or with petty aspirations, and a woman like her was certainly unfit to walk among the lowly kaldorei; with such beauty, such magic within her, she deserves to be among the Highborne.
Even more so, for with such unique magnificence, if someone asked for Illidan's opinion, he would say that Mylenne definitely deserved a place beside the Grand Magistrix Elisande.
"Ishnu-alah, Malfurion… Illidan," Her voice wavers at the mention of his name, but Illidan also notices how she intentionally avoids looking at him. "I must say it is surprising to see you so early in the night."
Malfurion quirks a green brow at her, leaning on one hip. "It is also surprising to see a Sister wandering outside the Temple at this early hour." He says, his voice thick with something dangerously close to suspicion.
Illidan turns to his brother, his eyes wide, not quite believing what he's hearing. How dare he speak to her in such an awful manner? He thinks, irritation plastered all over his face. "What are you insinuating, brother? That she escaped from her activities?" The words come out of Illidan's mouth without consideration, a deep scowl creasing his dark-skinned forehead. "That is rather rude of you."
The woman in front of them gapes silently. "I… I only needed to get some air," Mylenne tries to explain; although her voice starts to falter, shifting and weakening as well as the pale aura that surrounds her skin—that bluish energy which only Illidan could see—making her fidget uncomfortably in her spot. "I was not trying to go anywhere..."
"And I am sure that you had good reasons for doing so," Illidan says in her defense, directing a comforting smile in Mylenne's direction. "Please, pay no mind for my brother's unfortunate choice of words."
"Illidan, what—" Malfurion starts, glaring at him, open-mouthed and looking like if he had been slapped in the face. However, after the brothers share a look, he reconsiders his words, massaging his temple and adding, "I apologize, Sister. It was not my intention to scold you. I am not in my best of moods… but you are not at fault, and for that I am sorry."
The kaldorei in front of them blinks a couple of times, but she is fast in regaining her composure. "It is all right. Must probably be the weather," Mylenne says with a wave of her hand, "This storm is unsettling me as well."
The woman and Malfurion glance at the sky, their silver gazes apparently searching for the moon hidden behind the clouds and beyond the cerulean trees. But, while Illidan attempts to do the same, he finds himself unable to look away from Mylenne's bright silver orbs.
And it's only for a mere second, but within that instant—and with what was left of the pale moonlight reflecting in her eyes—Illidan could observe how the woman's silver eyes start to gleam, brimming with unshed tears.
His heart clenches inside his chest at the sight. How could someone so beautiful be in so much pain? Then again, it took another blink—and this time, a hard swallow of her throat—for the woman to recover, returning to that odd protective shell she seemingly had created for herself, her features shifting into a poise of self-control.
When their eyes met once more, Illidan's brain fills itself with hundreds of questions for her but, somehow, he never voices them. "This surely must be a hard night for meditation." He says instead, opting for nonchalance.
If Mylenne notices his slight hesitation for words, he would not be sure, for her face revealed nothing to him. "I guess so," The woman nods in agreement. "Or maybe it could be because I am not that good at communing with the Goddess as my fellow Sisters…"
His brother's green brows crease into a frown at her statement, seemingly speechless. However, Illidan knows better of turning crisis into opportunity and climbs another step, closing his distance with the woman. "You should not underestimate yourself, Mylenne, for I am sure you are capable of that and much more." He states, his voice giving no room for objections.
Something warm blooms inside Illidan's chest when, for the first time on that stormy night, a shy smile rises to her lilac lips. "Thank you," Mylenne says, a wild blush darkening her lavender cheeks, "But I think you are only being too kind."
He returns her smile with a playful smirk of his own, feeling proud of accomplishing his task of reassuring her. His golden eyes gleam in satisfaction at the sight of the blushing woman; there were very few things more pleasurable for Illidan Stormrage than making a female blush.
But probably he doesn't realize how much time he had taken by only staring at her, for then Mylenne starts to fidget, seemingly avoiding his gaze. "Though, uhm, were you looking for someone? I should return to the Temple anyway, so I can call them for you… if that is what you need me for, of course."
The single word comes out of Illidan's mouth without him thinking about it. "Tyrande."
But one of his long pointy ears twitch when Illidan hears his brother—now placed a couple of meters behind him—echoing the very same name of their friend. His teeth clench behind his mouth, barely containing his irritation from returning with full force, his previous moment with Mylenne long forgotten.
Why does he always seem to think that people only wants to talk with him? Goddess, does he not see that I am standing right here? That I am not invisible?
"Well, he is," Illidan growls, looking behind his shoulder and to Malfurion, his golden orbs full of annoyance. Oh, Mother Moon, please grant me patience, for if I get to hear one more thing about my brother and Tyrande, I swear I will—
His thoughts are cut short when the sound of his name reaches his ears. "And you, Illidan?" Mylenne asks in a curious tone, and he could not do anything else but to return his attention to her, a cobalt brow lifting in surprise. "I mean, I… I am sorry. I did not mean to pry…"
He's left speechless, if only for a moment, when the moonlight returns once more from behind the dark clouds, its silver-white rays focusing on the violet-haired female in front of him.
With the soft light of the moon caressing his shoulders and the back of his head—like the ever so soothing stroke of a mother—Illidan knows that the Goddess is wise and merciful with him, encouraging him to only focus on Mylenne, feeling how the growing tension on his muscles slowly start to disappear and his mind clears from any distressed thoughts.
After glancing at the dark sky and sending silent thanks to Elune, he decides to leave his annoying issues with his brother for another moment, well-guarded on the back of his conscience.
"And you are not prying," Illidan answers, a charming smile creeping its way through his dark lips, "for I was actually looking forward to speaking with you."
He feels more than sees how the green-haired male behind him crosses his arms over his chest, pretty much aware that he is lying. "Brother?" Malfurion inquires with a hint of suspicion in his voice.
But, this time, Illidan completely ignores his own brother, climbing another step and getting closer to the female kaldorei, who is now looking at him with silver eyes frowning in question. "Do you have a moment to spare?" He asks Mylenne, his voice nothing but a whisper, but loud enough for only her to hear.
Her blushing deepens, darkening her nimble neck and cheeks, and—thanks to their closeness—he sees how her lavender skin prickles and a shiver runs through her when the cold wind strokes it.
Ever the one to take advantage when having the chance, his fingers take hold of the silver cloak resting upon the woman's back, moving the delicate silk over her bare shoulders to cover her from the storm, taking precious care of not touching her skin. "My brother already knows where to look for Tyrande." Illidan insists when he sees Mylenne glancing over his shoulder.
He sees her hesitation, but instead of feeling offended, her inhibition only makes him smile more, his dark-skinned face the perfect picture of pure, unadulterated amusement.
"Uhm, alright…" She accepts with a hint of doubt in her voice.
Doubtful or not, Illidan feels more than pleased, moving elegantly to the side and allowing her to walk down the stairs. Then, he follows her steps with a grin plastered all over his face, never looking back and to the stunned green-haired male now left alone and behind them.
Maybe this will help him to see reason and understand how it really feels to be left apart.
Any kaldorei who knew anything about Illidan Stormrage would admit that he was a gentleman through and through, mostly when it came to dealing with females.
That is the main reason of why, on their way down, the cobalt-haired man takes his eyes away from the woman he's following and glances to their surroundings, attempting to find a decent place for them to sit.
Considering that probably the bottom of the stairs could do well for her—and remembering the place where he saw her for the first time—he starts to unlatch his crimson cloak with intentions of using the silk to cover his chosen spot.
But surprise strikes him when the kaldorei female never follows him, making her way out of the Temple and crossing to the other side of the street instead. His golden eyes lock on her figure, dark brows frowning when the woman decides to sit over the cerulean grass, seemingly uncaring of her delicate robes getting dirty.
A low chuckle escapes Illidan's lips, holding his cloak in one arm and walking to her side. "This will be the second time I find you preferring to be on the bare floor rather than somewhere more comfortable."
Mylenne only shrugs in response, adjusting her skirts and allowing her crossed legs to brush on the grass. "Well, I do find the grass more comfortable than the cold tiles of those wretched stairs…"
The male sits beside her, leaning on his elbows and finding that he really likes that newfound confidence on her. "Why I do get the feeling that you do not really like this place?" Illidan asks, considering that it is a good moment for questions.
"Oh, and you do?" The woman wonders with a lift of a violet eyebrow. "I must confess that I never thought of you for a follower of Elune."
"I would lie if I said so." He admits with a low snort but then tilts his head at her. "But you are avoiding my questions… again."
She never turned her eyes to him; instead, her head lolls back, fluttering her eyes close and basking in the pale moonlight caressing her pale cheeks. "Then maybe you should start with why you wanted to speak with me in the first place." Mylenne retorts, this time not looking intimidated with his staring, relaxing even further in her spot.
"Are you going to stop evading me if I just tell you so?" Illidan then says, not yet deciding about conceding, preferring to just look at her and her wonderful skin, glowing ever so slightly with the reflection of the moonlight on her.
A playful smirk rises to one corner of her lilac lips. "Maybe…"
He could not help but to chuckle in return. "Oh, now you are teasing me." He says, taking a hand to his bare chest in mock offense, although the amused smile on his dark lips expresses otherwise. "All right, two can play this game. How about this? You ask me what you want to know— and refrain from lying, for I will know— and then I ask you something in return…"
Even Illidan is not aware of why he seems so interested in knowing more about the woman beside him, but when she hums in response—clearly accepting his offer—he leans to the side, supporting his body with one elbow and facing Mylenne, all his attention focusing on her.
This time, her lips frown in thought and a couple of seconds go by in complete silence. "Why you lied about you not looking for priestess Tyrande?" She asks then, her voice genuinely curious. "I am not oblivious to the way you looked at your brother when he mentioned her name as well, but I did not understand why you lied."
"I did not!" Illidan exclaims, although both are aware of how his voice faltered, if only for a second.
Her bright silver eyes turn to look at him. "Am I the only one who has to refrain from lying?"
Regardless of her accusations, her gaze did not seem to judge him, making the male sigh in relief. "Well, to be honest, that was the worst question for you to ask in the first place," Illidan admits with a grunt.
But the female kaldorei remains silent and keeps her gaze on him, her features neutral, yet persistent, patiently waiting for his response.
"Okay, you win." He concedes, a small part of him starting to regret the silly game he had planned, noticing how the tables are turned on him at that moment.
Figuring that honesty was the only answer, Illidan takes a deep breath and finally confesses, "Both my brother and I were looking for Tyrande. We had a talk about the three of us going together to the Moon Festival three months ago, but I recently found out that, apparently, they were not really planning on me to join them..."
… And apparently, I was very stupid for thinking so. And it seems that I still am. Oh, Goddess! Now I surely look like a fool, and nothing less than in front of the female that I'm trying to—
"Mmh, I see," Mylenne's feminine voice takes him out of his reverie, making him tilt his head at her in seeming curiosity; for her tone was not one of pity or shame for him. Instead—and to his surprise—she sounded like if she were struggling to not look offended.
Illidan asks her what she is thinking about, lightly brushing her thigh with his own when she never answers, too deep into her thoughts. The movement startles her, making the woman fidget and move away from him in an attempt to keep some distance.
He isn't really sure what he had said to make her react in that way to him, but it was more hurtful than offensive. However, he was not going to turn down the only chance he had to talk with that woman, and so he insisted again. "I believe that it is my turn for a question."
She gives him a curt nod—as if she didn't have another choice—but Illidan pretends to not have noticed that. "What is on your mind?" He inquires once more, his baritone voice soft but still showing his concern.
"I do not believe you want to know." Mylenne snarls, her voice tight against her now clenched teeth, crossing her arms over her chest defensively and, unconsciously, confirming his suspicions. She is definitely offended.
"Have I said something wrong?" His hand moves to one of her arms but stopped midair, figuring out that touching her is not the best idea. "I am sorry, I thought… I thought that you deserved an honest answer."
The female did not look at him, instead focusing her gaze on one of the silver bracelets that adorned his wrist. "And I thought that your invitation was because you were looking for my company. Apparently, it only was because you do not have a partner to attend to in the first place."
Illidan blinks in surprise with her response, her harsh tone feeling like a straight punch on his face. "What?" He mutters, clearing his throat when his voice goes out too weak for his liking. "By Elune… What could I possibly have said to make you think that?"
"It was not because of what you said, but what you do." Mylenne continues, this time facing him, violet eyebrows down into a hard frown. "You obviously care about priestess Tyrande so, why did you not insist on going with her and your brother? Why do you wish to go with me—of all women—instead of them, or… Goddess, why did you ask me and not Sylenna?"
The male feels shocked with her sudden upsetting, leaving him only able to stare at her, speechless, and watching how the magical aura surrounding her body starts to flare, wild purplish-blue waves glowing on her pale and soft skin.
Sylenna? Illidan mouths, thinking about that mentioned woman for the first time on that stormy night, returning Mylenne's hard frown with one of his own. He could guess why Mylenne kept reminding him of that woman—he is also aware that the female had her eyes fixed on him on every encounter they had—but what he could not guess is Mylenne's insistence on her; much less when he had not returned any interest.
But his thoughts drifted away when his heart starts to pound wildly behind his ribs, his whole body reacting to the arcane energy that floats in front of his eyes, coming down over him in a soft, barely visible mist. The acrid tang of pure unadulterated magic reaches his nose, making his mouth go dry and tensing his muscles.
It is the most desirable scent in the world.
And that is probably why he reaches out and dares to touch her bare wrist for the first time on that night, in a desperate rush to soothe her. "Mylenne," He starts, his voice rasped and dry, "Hey, calm down. First, allow me to explain."
"I am calm. Why would you think—" But her speech is cut short when a tingle starts to expand through both their arms, making her gasp slightly.
This time he did not allow her to flinch away, enclosing his fingers on her wrist and leaning closer to her, only taking a moment to enjoy the wonderful sensation of her warm skin and the feeling of her magic below his fingers. "Mylenne," He repeats her name once more, savoring the sound of her name on his lips, "Inviting you was the best idea I had in decades."
Then, when her lilac lips part, ready to retort something at him, it was her who is left speechless, her bright silver orbs meeting her golden ones and blinking in astonishment.
Taking that as a good sign, the male shifts in an attempt to get closer to her, taking precious care to not startle her somehow. "I am oblivious as of why do you think so low of yourself," He continues, caressing her wrist with the tip of his thumb, "But, to be honest, I am more confused about how it seems that no man before me invited you in the first place. One would think that a woman as beautiful as you could get anything she wants… or anyone she wants."
Her blush returns once more, strong enough to darken her neck and cheeks and to calm the intense flaring of her energies, the purplish-blue glowing of her skin slowly starting to dissipate and returning to their natural color and state. "Now you are the one teasing me," Mylenne answers, a shy smile making its way through her lips.
"I am not being a tease, for I meant every word I said." Illidan insists, feeling how his confidence returned to his body, the smile that the woman directs at him—and only to him—doing nothing but bolstering him. "Here, allow me to give you something."
Supporting his body with one elbow, the male kaldorei captures her hand in both of his, moving her wrist in the most delicate way and placing her palm upwards.
Fluttering his eyes close, he forces his mind to focus and moves her captured hand close to his mouth, whispering a spell into it. "Alor'el ana."
He never could be sure if the sudden gasp coming from the female's lips is a reaction to what is left in her palm or for his breath so close to her skin, but he smiles in satisfaction nonetheless, savoring the scent of her skin only for a moment before opening his eyes.
A warm, delighted feeling blossom inside Illidan's chest; right in that exact second when he allows her to open her palm and observe the translucent dusk lily he had placed. Its petals start to glow when the moonlight touches it, getting brighter within each second passing.
It is a beautiful flower, but not as much as the woman carefully holding it with her pale, delicate hands, cocooning it like the most precious treasure. And, in that moment, nothing is more beautiful as the dusk lily's reflection on her face, the bright glow of its petals adorning and caressing the violet markings on her cheeks.
In that moment, his previous struggles are erased from Illidan's mind. His irritation and frustration for his brother's actions, his insecurities and doubts from what Mylenne—or anyone, but mostly her—could think of him, his nightly exasperated discussions with his superiors; nothing of that remained, except the sight of the woman in front of him.
A woman with a beauty that could only be compared with the Goddess herself.
"Thank you. It is gorgeous." The woman whispers, but her voice is so low that he almost could not hear it, the ever so slight movement of her lips being the only sign for Illidan that she's talking.
"Sael'ah," The cobalt-haired male says in return, his grin widening in pure delight, noticing how entranced she is with the flower cradled in her hands, "But I should remark that its beauty cannot be compared with its owner."
"Forgive me if I believe you say the very same thing to any woman that crosses your way," Mylenne confesses, her silver eyes rolling and her voice attempting to dismiss his praise, although the intense darkening of her cheeks expresses the opposite.
If it were someone else, Illidan is sure that he would bark something in reply—probably something harsh in an attempt to defend his modesty—but there was something about that woman's constant refusal to his compliments that only incited him to keep trying.
That is the main reason of why the male insists and says, "Oh, but I am sure that nobody ever told you how beautiful you look when you blush."
When her silver eyes find his and sharp canines appear to bite her lower lip—making a massive effort to collect herself and somehow hide her embarrassment—Illidan finds the answer to his suspicions, a smug smirk making its way to his dark lips.
"Alright, you win." Mylenne concedes with a nervous chuckle, unable to keep looking at him. But it is a female voice who called her name in the distance what takes her out of her reverie, making her crane her neck in the Temple's direction. "… And that is my cue to leave."
Fidgeting in her spot and taking precious care of the magical flower still cradled in one of her hands, the woman adjusts her skirts and moved to get up from her spot on the cerulean grass. However, Illidan is faster than her, getting on his feet in seconds, elegantly outstretching a hand to her.
"Mylenne," He attempts to recall for her attention, slightly tightening his hold on her small, nimble hand when she takes it, "The reason of why I wanted to speak with you was to insist on my offer. If you ever decide to accept and join me, I will be waiting for you on the Main Square, outside the Stronghold."
Once she is on her feet, she cradles her dusk lily close to her chest, as if trying to protect it from the weather. Although for Illidan's relief—and pleasure—didn't let go of his hand. "Then maybe I should advise you against it. I already have a partner." The woman answers, pointing him to a silver-haired woman—apparently, the woman who was previously calling for her—with a tilt of her head. "But I will consider it."
"That sounds better than another plain refusal…" He admits with a shrug, trying to look nonchalant. However, deep down, he is too delighted with the feeling of the woman's lavender hand joined with his, and too entranced with its warmth to be thinking of something else.
Throwing his crimson cloak over his free arm, the two kaldorei make their return to the Temple in silence, the male doing his best to savor his last moments with the violet-haired woman beside him.
But then, when another male with bright green hair appears on the top of the marble stairs, the kaldorei holding his hand stops in her tracks. "Oh, and Illidan," Mylenne starts, kindly pushing him to face her, "I do not intend to meddle in your issues with your brother but… I think you are looking too much into it."
"What?" He blinks, feeling confused with the sudden change of their previous conversation. "What do you mean?"
"Well, first of all, you never heard this from me, but," A playful smirk creeps its way to Mylenne's lilac lips as she whispers, only for him to hear, "Rumor has it that Malfurion is known to be quite the boring twin in the Stormrage family. At least, that is what I have heard…"
If the woman was attempting to reassure him in some way, she definitely succeeded in doing so. "Really?" One of his cobalt brows perks up in interest. "Now I wonder what those rumors say about the other twin."
Despite the woman now letting go of his hand, the warmth of her presence didn't abandon him. Her last comment bolstered his mood even more so, something that the male could not believe it possible due to the awful night and week he has been enduring.
But what he could not really believe is his sudden luck for the turn of events on that stormy night; nor did he believe himself worthy of the beautiful violet-haired woman now standing on her tiptoes and supporting her weight on one of his arms, closing her distance to him once more.
"Perhaps you will get some answers within the next week… if we get to meet at the Festival." Mylenne whispers close to his face, her shyness and embarrassment apparently forgotten at that moment.
When she kisses him on his cheek—only a small, quick peck, an ever so small brush of her lips on his skin—Illidan feels it like a reward. And, way deep down, he wants to also believe it as a promise.
But right on that moment, as he watches the woman go and join her friend on the marble stairs of the Temple of Elune, the last of Illidan Stormrage's thoughts goes to the Mother Moon and her odd—but still subtle—ways of interfering with his life.
I should probably need to pray and thank the Goddess more often.
