Introducing another new character-which, to be honest, had given me quite a headache, making me rewrite an entire scene from scratch. But I'm sure you'll like him :D
And well, I'm not the type of writer who asks for comments and reviews, but your opinions on this are really appreciated and encouraged!
Then again, huge thanks to the usual readers (you know who you are) that are rooting for this story as it progresses. A million hugs to all of you, whenever you are *hearts*
Darnassian:
Ishnu-alah: "Good fortune to you". A greeting.
An'da: Father.
Min'da: Mother.
Quel'dorei: A slang for "Highborne". Children of noble birth.
Elune-adore: "Elune be with you", works as a greeting and a farewell.
Stareye
It's only a brush on Jarod's shoulder what Mylenne gives him as a silent apology—and an understanding that he would stay on his spot, watching her back—before heading off the Evermoon Bazaar, first attempting to blend in the thick crowd that fills the area.
Glancing behind her shoulder, she notices that Jarod had turned his back on her, probably intending to get the attention of the Black Rook guards that are now approaching to their location. But that doesn't stop her, quickly lifting the skirts of her midnight-blue gown before rushing between two merchant stalls and heading to the closest dark alley she could reach.
Recognizing the childish and innocent face that could only belong to her fellow Sister, Thania, the kaldorei approaches to her tent, looking for a way to—at least—hide her own recognizable violet hair and markings over her cheeks behind the silver canopy that adorns the tent.
"Oh, ishnu-alah, Myl! I am glad to…" Thania greets her but starts to frown after glancing at the newcomer, which now is bending under a wood table, barely careful of her gown brushing on the cobblestone floor. "Myl? What are you doing down—?"
"Sh!" Mylenne takes a finger to her mouth in the universal sign of silence, bringing her head further down to avoid hitting her long ears with the table's surface. "I am not here! Cover me!" She quickly hisses after a flash of black boots adorned with crimson gems appears through the corner of her eye.
Fortunately, the Black Rook guards don't seem to approach the tent; instead, the four boots turn to their right, disappearing around the next corner of the street, probably on their way to the Commons.
A relieved sigh escapes her lips, taking a minute before peaking above the table, still taking precious care of hiding behind the goods displayed on the stand. Thania moves to the side when the kaldorei gets out from her hiding spot, her thin brows still furrowed in confusion. "What was that? Are you in trouble?" She mutters, thankfully not craning her head to look at her.
But Mylenne keeps her head low in her way out, crouching behind her fellow Sister. "No, I am not, I only prefer to not be seen by the guards," She explains, her voice only a whisper. "An'da is certainly looking for me, and…" She ends her sentence with a tired sigh, not really wanting to give her friend all the details behind it.
A hum escapes Thania's lips and she nods to the table. "I see…" the woman murmurs above her, her face softening in realization and understanding.
But Mylenne gets aware that the silver tents occupied with novices and priestess of the Sisterhood of Elune could not be the best suitable place for her to hide, and she quickly returns her gaze to the matter at hand.
Before heading out of the tent, she brushes Thania's ankle in a grateful sign, doing her best to not startle her. With another nod, her fellow Sister returns to her spot, extending her nimble hands to the sides of the table in a way to get the attention of any possible prying eyes.
Taking that as her cue to leave, Mylenne disappears behind the back curtain of the tent, swiftly heading to a dark alley that may work as a good shortcut to get out of the Bazaar. Luckily for the kaldorei, there are no guards to be seen in that alley, her heart slowing its fast racing as she ventures further and further.
If anything, the alley seems to be void of any quel'dorei as well; the streets only crowded with their usual merchants and humble families, barely half a dozen children running around, seemingly enjoying the festivities.
A woman with navy-colored hair gives her a confused look as Mylenne brushes past her, noticing the violet markings on her face, but Mylenne doesn't allow the stranger to stare at her too much as she walks around the corner, losing her and her children from sight.
However, it doesn't take too much for Mylenne to relate the hair color of the staring stranger to the female sorcerer who was clinging to Illidan's arm, after she had spotted him on the other side of the street—his bright golden eyes fixed on her once more. And, unconsciously, as she keeps walking close to the shadows, her feet heading to a humble tailoring shop, her thoughts drift to the male who was previously supposed to meet with her.
Perhaps Illidan had invited that female after the kaldorei couldn't find some spare time to look for him at the Stronghold, but it wasn't like Mylenne did that on purpose—after all, she had been working on placing the final decorations on the Sisterhood's tents since the first hour in the night.
Sharp guilt tugs at her chest as she takes a seat on a small bench, seemingly hidden from prying eyes. I should have told him to meet me here in the first place. It was rude of me to not state that before, a small part of her—that little part of her conscience which had already started to grow fond of the male—admits to herself.
At first, she can't help but agree with that seeming innocent voice who speaks inside of her mind, and guilt gets heavier within her at reminding the ever so small things Illidan has done for her; for whatever his reasons were, Mylenne wouldn't deny that he had been anything but kind with her. Sweet, even, if the magically created dusk lily which now adorned one of her ears was any indication of it.
But then, as she carefully grabs the flower from her ear and cradles it between her hands, it's another voice who whispers to her; one that carries the voice of her dear friend, Maiev, but also her advice, said not long ago.
He seems brash, arrogant, and kind of a beguiler to me…
Mylenne would be lying if she didn't admit that the thought had crossed her mind quite a lot, lately; for there was something about Illidan's nature that forced her to be wary of him—or, at least, to tread carefully on their encounters.
And his point of view regarding magic—his interest in her magic—made everything worst for the handsome male, besides of placing a million questions in her head; questions that had started to haunt her in her sleep in the last month since Illidan and she met.
Why is he always staring at her in that particular way? What does he really sees in her? Because—given Illidan's talents for sorcery—Mylenne is sure that it's on that subject where the answers for her questions rely on.
But, then again, why would Illidan be interested in someone as unskilled as her? Or, quoting her father: Why someone, anyone, would lay their eyes on a useless woman like her?
It was worse than confusing for Mylenne, to place her thoughts on that subject. She hasn't trained nor used her magic—besides some meaningless spells—for more than 1500 years, never even thought of doing it so after her mother's sudden disappearance. And, to be honest, after all these years, she knows anything about the real powers of the arcane within her, anything about how to use it to, at the very least, protect herself or her loved ones.
It's after her silver gaze rests over a meaningless detail on her quite expensive robes, that another thought crosses her mind, the voice of Maiev invading her once more.
I would not be surprised if he is looking forward to getting a place among the quel'dorei.
A tired sigh escapes her lilac lips as she gets up from her hidden seat, realizing that she had spent too much time in that spot and she needs to keep moving. Without thinking too much about it, she places her dusk lily over its previous spot on one of her ears and returns to the matter at hand, annoyance taking over her as she walks away from the festivities.
And she can't help when a frustrated growl escapes her, heading away from the Moon Festival, from her friends, and from the handsome man she was supposed to meet that night; only because she doesn't want to have an encounter with her father.
As the picture of Lord Desdel Stareye takes form in Mylenne's mind, she shakes her head in an attempt to clear her mind, her steps quickening. Tears gather around her silver eyes as she keeps walking, for she knows that he is the very one to blame for all her misfortunes.
If you could only realize how your desperate needs for power and wealth have done for our family, An'da, I would not have wasted too many years by only fleeing from you and the Highborne. I would not have spent almost my whole life only escaping…
She doesn't want to cry, but her tears are as rebel as their owner, falling down and soaking her cheeks and violet markings in short time. However, it's as her mind keeps working on the previous events and she sharply wipes her tears away in evident disgust that a sudden need to run and—perhaps—finding some shelter in solitude grows inside of her.
And because, even when she despises herself for it, she has grown so accustomed to escape and hide her feelings over the years that she doesn't know of anything else to do.
It's when she sprints around one corner of the alley in her way to the Evermoon Harbor, that the bright silvery white light from the Moon reflects on the water and blinds her for a moment, a nimble hand lifting to shield her face. Mylenne doesn't think twice about it and turns to her left, crossing a short bridge and preferring to stay away from the moonlight.
Blinding white dots dance in front of her eyes, but that's not what makes her gasp in sudden surprise when she gets to the other side of the bridge.
Her reaction relies on after—all in a sudden—she collides face-first onto a broad chest, sending her stumbling backward while one of her heels gets hooked on the fold of her skirts. But Mylenne doesn't fall, for then two strong gloved hands are holding her by her elbows, easily securing her in place and preventing her from meeting the cobblestone floor.
While feeling dazed, her body sends jolts of adrenaline to her brain, the first thought that crosses her mind of being seemingly caught by one of her father's guards. But then, it's a strange tingle which expands through her arms—the sensation coming from those strong hands holding her—that sends her heart racing for entirely different reasons.
And Mylenne doesn't need for the stranger to speak—because she's already aware of who's holding her with just their touch on her skin, but she blinks rapidly anyway, trying her best to recover her focus.
"It seems that your stumbling upon people has become an odd habit…" A baritone voice reaches to her ears, helping her to get straightened. However, it seems that after the owner of that voice gets to take a better look at her, his grip on her arms don't falter nor let her go out of their reach.
Instead, it gets gentler, as a couple of thumbs start tracing soothing circles on her forearms. "Hey, Mylenne, hey…" The voice gets kinder, but she doesn't need to see their face to hear the deep concern at the sound of her name, "Why are you crying? What happened?"
"Illidan, please," The woman can't help but beg him, struggling to step away from him; for she knows she can't think straight or even have some composure with that particular male so dangerously close to her. "I—I need to go, forgive me, but—"
Thankfully, the very last person—or was he the first?—she was looking forward to meeting slowly takes a step back, but the unwillingness is evident in his face as Mylenne recovers her sight and gets to take a look at him. "I am only worried about you," Illidan admits, not quite leaving her personal space. "You looked terrified when you ran away from the Bazaar. I have been looking for you since you fled..."
His statement gets the female to stop in her tracks before attempting to head off, her mind quickly processing his words. Had he left his partner only to search for me? For me, the very woman who left him alone at the Stronghold in the first place, the innocent voice of her conscience takes hold of her mind once more, dumbfounded and confused.
The male takes the advantage of her stunned silence and carefully raises a hand to her bare shoulder, probably looking to comfort her in some way. But then, it's a flash of black and crimson surrounding the corner what gets Mylenne to step backward, silver eyes open wide and adrenaline coursing through her.
Illidan notices her panicked expression, craning his neck to look behind his shoulder as if trying to get a glance to what has captured her attention. However, the violet-haired woman doesn't think twice about it and takes the male's hand in hers, pulling them both to another hidden corner behind a big cerulean tree which adorns the street.
Surprised with her attitude, Illidan opens his mouth to voice a new question but doesn't struggle with the woman, following her and hiding behind the tree, intertwining his fingers with hers in the process. "Mylenne—" He starts, but she quickly hushes him with a flick of her hand close to his mouth.
"Sh! Keep quiet!" She hisses after peaking from behind the tree, noticing three Black Rook guards close to their location. Once their backs are turned, the woman takes a quick look at their surroundings, noticing a very tight alley that may possibly work their way out of the street.
While hunching down to remain hidden, she pulls Illidan's hand in a silent order to stay behind her as she heads to the alley—which actually is the backyard of a humble tailoring store—doing her best to muffle her steps.
"Save your questions for later, now let us get out of here." Mylenne mutters, lifting her skirts with her free hand and returning to the shadows once more, Illidan right behind her steps and seemingly unwilling to let go of her hand.
Mylenne had been wondering if her impulsive—and terribly odd—idea of bringing Illidan with her wasn't something that she would regret later, not really taking in consideration that the male would be of any help for her.
Fortunately, her suspicions were proved wrong quite fast as they get past the tight alley, with the man abruptly taking the reins of the situation; something more than surprising for Mylenne as he finally stops his questioning and gets serious for once—as if he had been given a crucial assignment.
So it is when they don't have any choice but to return to the streets, seemingly aware of the threat presented to Mylenne, Illidan suddenly grabs her by the waist and pushes her—not as kindly as she is now accustomed to—into the first store they have the chance to come across. But the male doesn't enter after her, instead turning his back and blocking the entrance.
"Illidan, what are you—?" She tries to ask, but the only answer she gets is from his form, leaning on the store's doorframe, crossing his arms and adopting a nonchalant pose.
"Elune-Adore!" Illidan's voice gets out in a higher pitch and slightly faked, covering her voice as well as her figure behind the doorframe. However, Mylenne doesn't need to be told twice to close her mouth as it turns evident that the male's plans are only to hide her from some prying eyes now walking the street.
She feels more than sees a couple of boots heading to their location, but Illidan keeps his speech, his relaxed posture never wavering. "It is odd to see some quel'dorei hanging around these streets. Did you lose something?" Illidan asks to the pair, leaning further in his spot.
"Er, uhm…" Mylenne hears a male voice outside the store and tries to take a peek when curiosity gets the better of her; only to be rewarded with a subtle push from one of Illidan's elbows, forcing her to stay away from the entrance.
"No business? That is great!" Illidan is quick to shush the unknown couple, his tone taking no objection as he dismisses them with a flick of his wrist. "On your way, then. You are blocking the sight of my store, hush hush!"
Unfortunately, the pair—which now Mylenne can recognize as a couple of Black Rook guards—don't head out right away, suspicion starting to grow on them as they stop in their tracks.
But then, as the male before her starts to get tense, the shadow of a third kaldorei appears close to the store, dangerously walking straight to Illidan's location.
"There, there. No need to be rude," The newcomer speaks, their voice soft and calm as he approaches and lays a hand on Illidan's broad shoulder, his action so sudden that almost breaks Illidan's nonchalant façade, the female behind him barely holding a gasp.
Even as the new voice reminds Mylenne of someone she knows, her mind gets overwhelmed with panic that she can't really think straight and focus on the stranger's identity. Instead, her breath hitches as she desperately starts looking for another way out of the store.
Although this time it's Illidan who senses her distress, shifting in his spot ever so subtly to only grab her trembling hand in his, his hold sending some assurance to her. But Mylenne's heart starts racing wildly inside her chest when—after glancing at their joined hands—she gets to see how his palm gets warmer within each second passing, the purplish-blue mist of an arcane spell floating between their intertwined fingers.
And while Mylenne doesn't really know much about magic, it's the unconscious part of her mind which recognizes the silent spell that Illidan is casting; for it's not the first time that she gets to see that strong wave of energy dancing in the form of circles around a caster's hand—the last time she got the chance to, being more than 1500 years ago.
He is preparing to teleport us out.
But then, all of a sudden, Illidan's grip on her hand softens when the stranger beside him continues his speech. "Please, forgive the hostility of my assistant. Unfortunately, he never got along very well with nobles such as you."
However, the stranger doesn't allow the guards to maintain a conversation, kindly pushing Illidan to the side and entering the store, not even bothering to look at the female now hunched down behind his assistant's back. "Now, I'm afraid I have business to attend to. May Elune guide your paths." He said then, dismissing the guards with an elegant nod before closing the door of the store.
What in Elune's name just happened?
A full minute goes by without any of them voicing a single word, the sound of her fast heartbeat filling Mylenne's ears as she sticks her back on the closest wall, her body tensing and preparing for anything. The male close to her neither gets relaxed with the sudden turn of events, the hand that keeps holding her own still flaring with arcane magic, his back pressed to her chest in his best attempt to protect her.
But the strange male is the one that breaks the silence, turning away from the couple and walking closer to the soft candlelight that illuminates the room of the store. "So, what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, dear little Mylie?"
The female is left speechless at the mention of her old nickname, daring to take a glimpse from behind Illidan's broad shoulder when curiosity gets the better of her. It's only when the soft light illuminates the male's face that all the pieces of the puzzle are fit inside her mind.
"Uncle Silgryn!?" Mylenne speaks, not really believing what her eyes are seeing.
"Well, this place is rather dark for you to see me, isn't it?" The male says, effortlessly casting a spell with a flick of his fingers, the small room illuminating within an instant. "Ah, much better!"
A part of her is hesitant to let go of Illidan's hand—still so warm and soothing with his fingers laced on hers—but it's what she has to do after identifying the kaldorei male who now stands before them, her hand traveling to Illidan's elbow in a silent request for him to lay down his guard.
"Well, well, seems that times have changed! Who could say that my beloved niece would get acquainted with sorcerers?" Silgryn declares with a low chuckle, his wild violet hair brushing past his shoulders.
Silgryn's remark gets the only cobalt-haired man in the room to cross his arms over his chest. "Should I be offended with that?" Illidan wonders with a frown, leaning on one hip.
"Nah, you're good, lad," Mylenne's uncle reassures him with a nod, closing his distance with the couple before him. "Actually, more than good. I am glad that Mylie has some people to watch over her as you seem to do."
Mylenne could only snort at his comment, noticing Illidan's proud smirk through the corner of her eye, totally taking the praise. "Though that never stopped you from almost giving me a heart attack," The female remarks; however, the complaint doesn't last for long as another question crosses her mind. "Wait, do you really run this store?"
That only elicits a wild cackle out of him. "Do you really take me for a tailor?" Silgryn says as his contagious laugh fills the room. "No, this place belongs to a friend of mine. I'm only taking care of it while she's out of town."
"A friend, huh?" Mylenne wonders, crossing her arms and imitating Illidan's posture, a teasing smile on her lilac lips.
"I'm not taking that bait, child, for I am very fond of her husband as well." Her uncle answers with a low chuckle, looking at the female with a dear smile plastered on his face. But then he gives her a knowing look and adds, "Besides, well… I could say the same to you…"
At Silgryn's bantering, the female's cheeks start to darken, a wild blush creeping up from her neck and spreading on her face as her smile disappears. The absolutely pleasing grin that Illidan directs at her is also less than helpful, making Mylenne step away from the males just a little if only to—somehow—cover her embarrassment.
Three hundred years without seeing him and then, it feels just like yesterday, teasing me with any male he gets the chance to see me with. Maiev will be so happy when she finds out of his return.
"Alright, I give up!" She lifts her hands in the universal sign for surrender, quickly looking for a way out of that awful topic. "What tipped me off, anyway?"
Fortunately, Silgryn allows the sudden turn of the conversation, pointing at her face with his chin. "Your hair, of course," He explains without hesitation. "It seems that some things never change. You still shine like a beacon with Elune's reflection upon you. Just like your Min'da…"
"That I can tell," It's Illidan who speaks this time, taking two steps backward to lean his back on the closest wall.
His features soften—if only slightly—when her silver eyes find his golden ones, but Mylenne can't help with frowning when his gaze fixed in no point in particular. And their small exchange only lasts for a mere moment, but the woman still could notice how his whole attitude seems to change when his attention is focused on her.
His golden eyes gleaming in delight, his mouth slightly open, even his hard chin lifting up a couple of inches as if his nose attempted to get a better scent. And Mylenne wasn't good with many things, but what she had always been good at was with observing; taking the smallest and silliest of details from everything—and everyone—and saving them in her memory like pieces of a puzzle.
Illidan Stormrage had never been the exception to the rule, but she's aware that, within each encounter, he is unknowingly turning out to be a very complicated puzzle to be solved.
"Mmh, and that's an interesting remark, Lord…?"
Silgryn's voice gets them both out of their own reverie, the cobalt-haired male awkwardly clearing his throat before answering, seemingly struggling—if only for a mere second—to take his eyes away from her. "I am not a Lord. Only, uhm—Illidan is just fine."
It's then when Mylenne notices how Illidan's gaze wavers for a moment, realizing that it's the first time since they met that she sees that apparently troubled side of him. Her face softens at the—if unwilling—small revelation, for she never thought of seeing a small vulnerability in him; always acting so sure of himself, so confident, carrying a proud smile on his face whenever he went.
It seems that we are not so different after all.
"Alright, now that we are done with the introductions, how about sending some more help over here?" Mylenne opts for a change of topic, only to save him the bitter moment—she owes him as much, after all. "Uncle, we need to get out, preferably in a way to avoid being seen by An'da's guards."
Silgryn is quick in returning his attention to her, humming in thought and tapping his index finger on his mouth, seemingly trying to elaborate a plan. Surprisingly, it's the other male in the room who speaks first, not without previously sending her a small nod of appreciation, his eyes locking with hers for a very small moment.
"You only needed to ask, for I have the perfect idea," Illidan says, a mischievous smirk creeping up on his dark lips, returning to his usual façade once more.
"Uh-huh. Feel like sharing?" The woman has to ask, feeling more curious rather than concerned about what he may be thinking about, an elegant violet brow rising in interest.
With that, the sorcerer moves away from the wall he had been leaning on, uncrossing his arms as he starts to explain. "Well, as your uncle just mentioned before, you are quite easy to be spotted with only looking at your hair," Illidan admits, closing his distance with Mylenne and capturing a strand of her violet mane between his fingers.
The male takes a moment to seemingly appreciate the texture of it, curling the long strand on his index finger, his golden eyes gleaming in evident pleasure—as if really liking what he was seeing. Then, he glances at her uncle before continuing, his voice slightly lowering. "I must remark that it would be a shame to hide such beauty of yours, but yes, it should be fairly easy to create a disguise for you."
That definitely gets Silgryn's attention. "A disguise? Mmh, that's very, very clever," The male admits, nodding in agreement. However, not much time goes by before another amused smirk appears on his lips. "You know, I'm starting to like this… friend of yours, Mylie."
"Uncle!" The woman exclaims—although she may never know if her complaint comes for his endless bantering or the constant use of that awful nickname from her childhood.
But her reaction only elicits an amused laugh from Illidan and Silgryn, both males looking at her with evident amusement on their faces.
"Alright, alright! I will stop now," Her uncle concedes, raising his hands in submission, though his smirk never leaves his face.
It is after taking a quick look at their surroundings that Silgryn nods with his head in the direction of some stairs located in the back of the room, his short violet hair waving as he turns on his back. "Go ahead then, you should find everything you need on the first floor."
At Silgryn's signal, the male next to her gives her a dashing smile, elegantly moving to the side and flicking his wrist in a silent request for the woman to go first. Mylenne could only snort and shake her head in mock disapproval, but leading the way to the stairs nonetheless.
"Males…" She mutters before disappearing into the first floor, provoking a cackle out of Illidan, which follows right after her without hesitation.
