A huge lot of thanks to the ones rooting for Mylie and Lid (yep, they're going to be called like that now, they totally deserve those horrible nicknames!), you are the best!

Can't wait to know what do you think of this one :D

Warning for a liiiiiiiitle bit of nudity.


Darnassian:

An'da: Father.


Stareye

Mylenne's mind is torn with so many thoughts going on in her head as she climbs the stairs, heading to the first floor of the store, now being taken and run temporarily by her uncle. A store which also looked like the place where Silgryn's friends lived—if she could judge by the furniture adorning the hallway and the big bed placed in what seemed to be a bedroom.

It's probably out of sheer curiosity when her feet lead her to that particular room, using a hand to move a delicate silk curtain before going in. Once she gets closer to the bed—the end of it placed right in the middle of the bedroom—she takes a minute to admire the decoration. Seems like my uncle's friend has a very good taste with colors, the kaldorei thinks as her silver eyes observe all the beautiful paintings adorning the bedroom.

To her right and under a stunning painting, apparently hand-painted with the symbol of the Goddess Elune over the canvas, it stood a short wardrobe made of dark wood. The furniture captures her attention as one of the drawers being slightly open, revealing a variety of multi-colored female clothes inside it.

Hoping that the owner wouldn't mind, her hands capture one of the clothes, taking a very long sky blue skirt from the drawer. With her fingers running over the beautiful turquoise details around the waist, Mylenne gets distracted by enjoying the soft texture of the silk in her hands, almost slipping through her fingers like water.

It's a baritone voice what takes her out of her reverie. "Have you looked for the other piece of that dress?"

Mylenne gets startled with the sound of Illidan's voice so close to where she's standing, her neck making a funny noise when her silver gaze travels to the entrance of the room. A sly smirk runs through Illidan's lips when their eyes meet, his arms crossed over his chest as one of his shoulders rests on the doorframe, looking nonchalant as usual.

The female can't help it when she feels her cheeks darken, an ever so slight shudder running down her back with that entrancing gaze of his. A part of her is aware that she could spend hours by just looking at those beautiful, bright golden eyes; but then, another more conscious part of her mind can't do anything but be wary of Illidan and his unwavering stare.

Because she still remembers that he's a sorcerer—a very skilled sorcerer, if people's comments about it were right and the constant display of his magic was any indication of it. And even when he persistently tried to prove that he wasn't a threat, Mylenne still couldn't figure his real intentions with her.

"I—I am sorry, I did not hear you coming," The female says, wanting to smack herself for not finding control of her voice. After clearing her throat, she tries again. "Uhm, how long have you been there?"

Illidan only shrugs, his sly smirk transforming onto a dear smile. "Not long enough, to be honest," He replies before moving from his spot and entering the bedroom, the curtain falling down behind him. "So? Have you found the other piece of that dress?"

"How do you know this is a dress and not only a skirt?" Mylenne asks, giving him a confused look, hesitating of putting the cloth on its previous place. "How do you know anything about women clothing, anyway?"

That gets a cackle out of the male, taking two steps and closing his distance to her. "Perhaps you never had the chance to see the usual conjurer's robes," Illidan remarks as one of his hands runs over the folds of the soft silk. "Skirts are not only for women, you know?"

"I certainly cannot imagine you wearing a skirt," Mylenne has to admit, feeling amused with the bare thought.

His smile widens when his eyes return to the female's face, seemingly glad to only take a smile out of her. Fortunately, she doesn't startle this time when his hands reach hers, slowly taking the clothing out of her grasp—although she notices the small movement he makes to only brush his fingers over her wrist, if only for a bare moment.

"Then you should come and visit me on the Stronghold one day," Illidan seemingly offers, walking some steps back to place the delicate silk over the bed, running a hand to smooth some creases on the clothing. "We usually use our formal robes when Conjurers come to make their monthly inspections."

His apparent proposal gets the female crossing her arms over her chest, a long purple eyebrow rising in curiosity. "I should confess, then, that I am more interested to know why you keep insisting in joining me—or join you—everywhere. Even more so after tonight's unfortunate events..."

Her features soften when their eyes meet once more, but Mylenne can't hold his gaze for much longer this time—her head and shoulders hunching down in evident remorse. It's after the male slowly comes back to her side that she continues, "I… I am sorry for not going to meet you at the Stronghold, Illidan. It was rude and mean from my part, and I have no real excuse for it."

Her blushing returns once more, but for entirely different reasons this time. However, what she surprisingly gets is a small smile from the man before her, "You do not need to apologize, Mylenne." Illidan says, eyes boring into her. "In any case, if you insist on doing so, perhaps you may want to enlighten me about what happened downstairs…"

"Yeah, you really deserve some answers," The female admits with a shrug of her shoulders, although she doesn't really know where to start. "Well, I… I am trying to avoid been seen by my father."

"You have previously explained that part to your uncle. What I am not aware is why you are avoiding him," Illidan replies, delicately grabbing her hand in both of his.

It's as he cups her hand that he then carefully leads her to one side of the bed, seemingly trying for both of them to sit and have a talk. With his actions, Mylenne gets consciously aware of his gentleness towards her—noticing how he always looks for an excuse to touch her, yet being ever so careful, ever so tender every time he holds her.

And the warmth that starts to expand through her chest has nothing to do with the temperature in the room, nor with the nice heat coming from those hands holding hers.

"That—that is a long story, I am afraid. I do not want to bore you with the details." The female confesses as she takes a seat beside him, still unable to look at his face.

However, even when her gaze travels to a silver-gray detail on one of his gloves, she feels more than sees the small smirk on his lips. Then she hears it as he says, "I believe that you could not ever bore me, Mylenne."

The sound of her name coming from that baritone voice of his is what captures her whole attention, her silver gaze traveling to Illidan's lips before resting on his bright, so bright golden eyes. But then, when she opens her mouth to reply, no sound comes from her, feeling too distracted by only seeing him.

The intense thrum of her heartbeat is what insists her to continue—if hesitantly, a small part of her being afraid to break the beautiful feeling blossoming inside her chest. An ever so warm sensation she hadn't felt for a long, long time.

But her curiosity gets harder and more overwhelming within each second passing, forcing the female to gently get her hand away from his grasp, a tired sigh coming out of her lips as she says, "Illidan, I do not understand this little game of yours. You do not know me at all, yet you helped me to get into hiding without hesitation."

Mylenne couldn't say if the sudden frowning of his cobalt eyebrows gets to be from what she have said or for now finding his hands empty. "Is there a problem with that?"

"No… yes. I am unsure," She starts to miss the contact of their joined fingers from the very second she left them, but she knows that it's what she needs to maintain her composure. "I could have handled all this on my own and still, you risked a lot downstairs by only trying to protect me. You were even casting a teleportation spell for us before Silgryn came to our aid."

"Well, it was either doing that or making them sleep," Illidan explains as if it's obvious. "I thought it could be better to not draw any more unwanted attention. At the very least, that is what you looked afraid of…"

It's when his features harden and the sound of his voice comes out defensive that Mylenne can't help with her need to reassure him. "And for that, I am truly grateful." She insists, leaning to the side to fully face him, careful of the sky blue skirt resting behind them over the bed.

"But still… why? Why are you always trying to help me, Illidan? You could be enjoying the festivities right now, spending some time with that friend of yours that you came here with. I would be upset in her place if my partner were to leave me alone for another female..."

She doesn't really expect the chuckle that comes out of him, imitating her position and holding his side with one elbow. His cobalt mane gets in the way and Illidan relaxes next to her as he brushes a couple of strands away from his shoulders.

"Do you always think so low of yourself?" The male suddenly wonders as if voicing his thoughts aloud. It's when she opens her mouth to retort something at him when he continues. "Instead of why, I would ask why not? This little adventure of yours had been the most entertaining thing for me as for tonight."

Mylenne tilts her head at him, certainly surprised with his response. "So, I must assume that you take enjoyment on getting into trouble?" The female only snorts when her only answer gets to be a sly smirk from Illidan's lips. "Alright, what is next, then? Is this some kind of regular job for you, saving damsels on a nightly basis?"

This time she's prepared for his amused laugh, her own mouth contorting into a grin when it gets too contagious. "Well, I am afraid I am not used to that," Illidan answers, slowly—and subtly—moving his free hand to rest above hers. "For only very beautiful damsels tend to capture my full interest."

Her blushing returns with full force, some strands of her violet hair falling down her face when she turns her gaze away, attempting to hide her embarrassment.

Both of them fall silent for a while, basking in the soothing sensation of their hands intertwined—the brushing of their fingers sending tingles to Mylenne's arm as a dark thumb traces idle circles over her wrist. With her elbows leaning on the bed, the female finally relaxes for the first time on that agitated night, allowing her mind to go blank and silent for once.

It had been a long time since she interacted or get acquainted with another kaldorei born with magic in their blood—and even with her wariness towards anything or anyone that might be skilled with the arcane, Mylenne couldn't deny the wonderful sensation of feeling someone else's aura so close to her skin.

She can't certainly explain it, but the warmth coming from Illidan's touch could only be comparable with the Moon's caress over her skin. Soothing like a mother's embrace, relaxing like the caress of the wind—yet also enticing, with that tingling expanding through her arm, like a kiss from the most gentle lover.

A shiver runs from her neck to her back when a baritone voice whispers very close to her ear. "The night is still young for you to take a nap," Illidan reminds her, his pleased smile being the first thing she gets to see when she opens her eyes.

With that smile plastered on the male's lips Mylenne realizes that, somehow, the male is quite aware of what he provokes on her. He had always been aware of that, her conscious mind retorts as if scolding her for being oblivious.

However, instead of blushing—and perhaps proving Illidan's point—she opts for nonchalance. "Oh, but this bed is so comfortable," She complains with a pout, "Maybe we can stay here for ten more minutes… or a week…"

"Well, despite the fact that I would gladly join you, I do not believe your uncle would agree with your idea," Illidan remarks, brushing her wrist one last time before leaving her side, heading to the wardrobe, seemingly looking for something inside the drawer she had previously opened.

Trying to keep down a grunt of discomfort, Mylenne sits on the bed, her eyes capturing the male's long cobalt hair as it falls down his shoulders. "So, you have something better to offer?" She wonders, leaning on one elbow to get a better sight of what he's doing.

Illidan only snorts, as if not surprised with her lack of faith. "Of course I do… and here it is,"

Then, he turns around, a wide smug smile showing on his face as he shows her a piece of clothing—a delicate sky blue top with turquoise details, seemingly matching the skirt she had previously found. "See? I told you that it was a dress,"

A loud cackle escapes Mylenne's lips at the sight of him, acting as if he proudly solved a very complicated mystery. "I still do not know if I should be alarmed or amused with this odd knowledge of yours…" The female admits, shaking her head in mock disbelief. However, when Illidan keeps silent, she continues. "And? What about it?"

His smile never wavers as he returns to her spot on the bed once more. "Here, change into this dress. I am sure your uncle's friend would not mind," Illidan says, placing the delicate clothing over her thighs.

Mylenne can only stay still as he gently picks the dusk lily that adorns one of her pointed ears, the flower disappearing inside his palm, leaving only a faint purplish-blue mist behind.

"What are you talking about? Why should I change my robes?" The female only stares at his face, violet eyebrows frowning in confusion.

Illidan can only imitate her frowning, crossing his arms over his chest as he returns her stare. "So I can create a disguise for you. Have you forgotten why we are here for?"

With his statement she can only blink twice as, all of a sudden, the memory of their previous events starts to repeat in her conscience.

"Well, as your uncle just mentioned before, you are quite easy to be spotted with only looking at your hair. 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."

Once more, she wants to smack herself for being so oblivious, accidentally forgetting the real reason for why they were there in the first place. However, Mylenne hasn't thought that a disguise would imply a change of clothing as well—it's a clever idea, nonetheless, for she could be easily recognized wearing her expensive robes either way.

Still, it's as she rises from the bed and picks the garments that the female notices Illidan not moving from where he's standing. "And… are you going to stay there and watch as I change?"

Mylenne has to keep a laugh when the smug smile from the male before her suddenly disappears, seemingly caught by surprise with her question. "Oh, I am sorry. I—uhm, yeah," Illidan fumbles with his words, a dark hand scratching the back of his head in apparent bashfulness.

Unable to keep his eyes on her—and with the female now chuckling at his reaction—Illidan takes some steps backward, heading to the hallway. "I—I will be outside, yeah," It's the only thing she hears from his mumbling before disappearing behind the curtains.


After the female gets to be alone in the master bedroom, she waits for a minute before getting to the task at hand, facing the bed where the two-piece dress is set over the sheets and pointing a long lavender ear to the entrance.

It's when the sound of muffled steps disappear behind the curtains—seemingly going down to the lower floor of the building—Mylenne allows a loud sigh to escape her lips, her muscles relaxing after finding some solitude.

With her gaze idly traveling to the robes before her, she takes another moment to wonder how she got to accept that odd idea from Illidan in the first place. You should have fled from the Bazaar before accepting to take Illidan with you. You wouldn't be facing this insane turn of events otherwise. What were you thinking, woman?

Mylenne snorts in disgust, shaking her head in an attempt to clear that insistence voice of her conscience. "Or I should have stopped running for once and keep everyone from taking part in this madness," She mutters low, guilt tugging at her chest after admitting—at least to herself—that she was the only one to blame.

However, the female knows that she will get nothing by pondering over the previous events. No matter how much she wanted to keep running and avoiding her An'da, she's consciously aware that she wouldn't be able to keep doing that for long.

Most of all, I don't want to keep running. I am so tired of running away…

It's after a lump starts to take place in her throat when Mylenne gets to the matter at hand, pulling the straps of her midnight blue dress with a little more force than necessary. Stripping out of her robes, the female is suddenly grateful of not wearing a bra—for that could be uncomfortable to keep the other piece of clothing she's about to wear on.

Revealing her bare breasts, the female stretches her back to unlatch another couple of straps that hold her dress over the back of her waist, allowing the clothing to fall down her legs and knees, the silk creating a puddle between her feet.

A sudden shiver runs through her when she ends up in only her undergarments, quickly taking a seat on the bed to put on the borrowed sky blue dress, first wearing the long skirt, careful of not pulling the silk too much. After adjusting the turquoise belt over her waist, she unlatches the straps of the top piece before putting it in place.

However, after covering the upper part of her body, a deep frown crosses her features when she straightens her back once more and finally manages to clasp the straps back in place. "Oh, not this again…" Mylenne groans, trying to adjust the top piece in the best way she can.

Still, her attempts turn out to be useless, the clothing tightening her ribs and compressing her breasts in a very uncomfortable way.

I can't believe my luck. How do I always manage to choose clothes in a smaller size? This is ridiculous…

But her grumbling doesn't last for long after one of her long pointy ears suddenly twitches, sounds of muffled steps coming closer to the curtain made of silk that divides the bedroom from the hallway.

Only Illidan's figure is visible behind the curtain, but it's at that moment when Mylenne starts to wonder if the male had been staying on the hallway all along instead of going down the stairs, as she had previously thought—the noise had come from too close, after all.

Had he been trying to pry all this time?

Yet, the figure behind the curtain doesn't move, although his hands move to rest over his hips in apparent impatience. Mylenne decides to not keep him waiting for much longer, taking a quick look at herself and adjust her skirt before speaking, "You can come in, now!"

The cobalt-haired kaldorei doesn't hesitate to return to the bedroom, easily moving the curtain to the side and making his entrance.

"You took your sweet time. For a moment I thought—" Illidan mumbles when he gets past the bedroom's entrance, but the rest of his sentence gets caught in his throat when his golden stare fixes on her. "Oh. You look…"

Mylenne waves a hand at him, keeping him from talking. "I already know," She declares, looking to any point in the bedroom and avoiding his unwavering stare. "Apparently this was a smaller size than I would have thought,"

She feels more than sees the sly smirk creeping up to Illidan's lips as he gets closer, steady on his steps. "I was about to say that you look beautiful," The male remarks with a tilt of his head, not even making an effort of hiding his burning gaze on her. "You should definitely keep that dress."

His comment gets a snort out of her, pale lavender hands running up her arms as if trying to cover some of her exposed skin. "And struggling to breathe in the process? I should beg the Goddess for mercy, then."

Illidan only chuckles, his smirk widening in a pleased grin. "Here, let me help you," However, he doesn't wait for her approval while he places a dark hand over her shoulder, silently requesting her to turn around.

She's sure that he feels her nervousness—if one of his fingers tracing soothing circles over her shoulder is any indication—but the female decides to remain silent as he gently moves her long violet mane to the side with his free hand, revealing her back to him.

Her breath hitches when she feels the ghost touch of a fingertip tracing down her spine, her cheeks darkening in less than an instant. A very warm, almost burning shiver threatens to follow the route of Illidan's finger, all her muscles clenching on her back and lower abdomen as he keeps going down…

Until something else loosens.

However, when she startles, she's aware that it's for an entirely different reason. "Now, is that better?" A deep baritone voice whispers very close to her ear.

Mylenne can only nod sharply, taking a step further and away from him in clear bashfulness. Despite the top piece now being slightly loosened and her ribs not so compressed as before, she's still feeling that she's going to accidentally rip that piece of clothing if her heart doesn't stop hammering its way out of her chest.

Her mind fills with a lot of possible excuses for her to get out of the main bedroom right away and avoid getting more embarrassed. So, she does her best to not face Illidan—and she can't, not when she's blushing so hard that she feels her cheeks almost burning—her best thought of attempting to head outside, her long violet hair returning to rest over her back as she starts walking to the hallway.

Only to be stopped with a warm hand holding her wrist. "Hey, why is the hurry?" Illidan asks, and she can tell by only the sound of his voice that he's not succeeding in hiding his evident amusement.

"I… uhm, I need to—" Her words come out in a silly babbling as she tries to look everywhere but to his face, shifting uncomfortably in her spot.

This time, Illidan can't keep his chuckling from going out of his lips, his genuine, warm laughter filling her ears and muffling the sound of her own heartbeats—if only for a second.

However, he doesn't allow her to escape from his grasp, walking to stand right before her and blocking her only way out of the bedroom. "This will not take long, but you should close your eyes," He explains after his laughter subsides.

His smile never wavers as he slowly—ever so tenderly—cups her blushing face with his dark hands and closes the distance between them. A very low gasp escapes Mylenne's lips when her silver eyes finally meet his golden ones, his eyes shining brighter than ever before, their faces only inches away from each other.

At their closeness, she can notice the stunning beauty of Illidan's eyes—the delicate shades of amber and yellow which adorns the iris, joining the bright golden like the most perfect painting.

Mylenne's mouth goes dry and her heart beats so hard inside her chest that, for a moment, she gets afraid of him hearing it. With her blood fast rushing to her brain, her breath hitches once more when that golden stare of his travels to her lips, his smile slowly fading.

Goddess… Is he going to kiss me?

"Illidan…" She breathes, her voice thin and weak, staring at him with wide eyes. "What—?"

This time, the male notices her apprehension, the curve of his mouth—which had previously lifted up at the sound of his name—flattening and his jaw tightening. However, it's his golden gaze which gleams in reassurance next to the ghost touch of his thumbs on her cheeks as Illidan says, his voice soft, "Calm down, I would never dare to hurt you,"

Her brain abruptly stops sending loud alarms, a hesitant sigh escaping her lavender lips as she tries her best to acknowledge him—only succeeding with relaxing her shoulders a little bit. After taking two breaths, Mylenne's hands hesitantly travel to his wrists, timidly closing her fingers over the edge of where his gloves end and his warm skin starts to show.

"Close your eyes, Mylenne." He insists once more, and this time she obeys.

A seemingly disappointed sigh escapes her lips when her silver eyes flutter close—a very large part of her yearning for that kiss to happen, rebelling when that moment apparently was never supposed to become real.

However, all her thoughts disappear in the mere inch of a second when the hands tenderly holding her face start to get warmer, a small tingle expanding through her cheeks and the rest of her body.

Illidan's lips brushed her forehead ever so slightly, his breath soft against her face, washing over her like the loving caress of the wind as he starts mumbling words she doesn't understand, repeating them over and over like a prayer.

The tingling sensation—cascading waves of arcane energy—coming from Illidan's hands slowly start to run through her neck and collarbones, expanding like spider webs over her arms, her chest, traveling down to her stomach and her long lavender legs.

Something remarkably close to a breeze gathers in her long violet hair, long strands waving and brushing her shoulders in their way, tempting the female kaldorei to open her eyes and get a glance of what is happening around her. However, she decides against it, feeling how all her muscles start to relax with Illidan's magic washing over her, enveloping her body like silk blankets.

So warm, so tender and soft—and Mylenne's whole body relaxes with his touch, her head feeling heavy and resting on the strong hands that hold her, heartbeats evening within each second passing.

She doesn't know how much time passed, but then the female's knees start to wobble, her legs unable to hold the weight of her as she leans further on Illidan's hands, feeling drained of her energy. The male gasps in alarm when her forehead falls to rest on his bare chest not so gracefully, a strong arm circling her waist to grab her before she falls to the ground.

"Mylenne, are you alright?" Illidan asks, his baritone voice tight with concern, his other arm holding her by the shoulders as he rests one cheek on the top of her head.

"Just… ti—tired," She mumbles below him, leaning further on his chest and burying herself in his embrace.

A small part of her wants to straighten up and let go, but there's something about the feeling of his skin against hers—the ever warmth that surrounds him—that seems to call for her, tempting her to forget about the whole world and just rest there. Just for a mere moment, in those strong arms protecting her from whatever may come outside of his embrace.

And a mere moment is what she gets, Illidan's arms tightening before letting go, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders if only to keep holding her. "I am sorry. I take the blame on that," He explains as he lowers his head to get on her eye level. "I guess that I went a little far ahead and I accidentally drained you."

"Wh—what?" She mumbles back, blinking repeatedly and trying to hold his gaze. However, her thoughts are dismissed when another wave of arcane magic washes over her, a purplish-blue mist seemingly getting through her skin. All of a sudden, her energy and vitality comes back, her limbs not so heavy anymore.

"There you go, all better now," His face becomes clear, allowing Mylenne to see a relieved smile crossing his lips. However, she also gets to see the pleading in his golden eyes, a silent request for her to drop the subject—at least for that moment—provoking a small frown on her face.

But after a couple of seconds, she concedes with a thoughtful nod, not really feeling up to discuss arcane magic and its effects on them. Is it then when Mylenne dares to step back and out of his reach, attempting to take a look at herself.

Though—and apparently—Illidan is not willing to let her go just yet, one dark hand brushing her shoulder as he walks to place behind her. "I believe you need only one more thing," He says, outstretching an arm to grab something from the bed table beside them.

Then, the male burrows his fingers on her long hair, grabbing some strands on the top in an attempt to tie it in a very familiar ponytail. "So… is this another of your secret activities? A savior of damsels and a hairstylist?" Mylenne tries for a joke to change the mood, a wide grin showing in her face while she leans her head down, letting him work on her mane.

"Well, I think I have become an expert on this, as for tying my own hair for two thousand years by now," Illidan says back, amusement returning to his voice.

His comment only gets a chuckle from her, sharing his amusement and surrendering to his ministrations once more. When he finishes, he returns to stand before her, quickly—yet tender and carefully as usual—brushing his thumbs over her cheeks, the small sensation of a tingle returning to her skin.

However, the tingling comes as quickly as it goes, with the male taking an appreciative look at her when he finishes. "Oh, I almost forgot!" One of his hands opens in front of her, revealing the same translucent dusk lily he had previously taken, returning the flower to their spot over one of her ears.

He brushes a strand of her hair away from her face. "Now, I believe we are done with your disguise," Illidan declares, a playful smirk creeping up his lips.

"So… how do I look?" The female can't help in sharing his good mood and gives him her best dashing smile. Though she also decides to go with a little bantering as she continues, "Better or worse than that friend of yours you came here with?"

This time, Illidan's smile couldn't get any wider. "Well, you can see for yourself."

Taking one of her hands in his, the male then pulls the curtains from the bedroom's entrance aside and leads her to the hallway, where a big, full-body mirror is placed on one of the walls. Illidan allows her to take a look, moving to the side to let her face the mirror.

Her eyes open wide in surprise, for when she takes a step further and takes a look at herself she barely recognizes the woman she's looking at.

Instead of her bright violet mane now there is a long cascade of navy hair, the color shifting into cerulean tones when the light of the candles reflects on it. Her violet markings are gone as well, next to the usual lavender of her skin—a very pale lilac, remarkably close to an alabaster tone adorning her body.

"So?" A cobalt-haired male appears behind her, though he doesn't bother to look in the mirror, seemingly preferring to look at the real woman in front of him. "What do you think?"

This time, she allows that long and strong arm of his encircle her waist, dark-skinned fingers almost burning when they brush over Mylenne's abdomen, her own hand traveling to rest on one of his shoulders.

"Well, I am only wondering," She smiles to their reflection in the mirror, "What is your friend's name? I should take her name as well, given that now we look remarkably the same."

"Does it matter who do you look like?" Illidan wonders, his golden stare unwavering. "She is certainly not as beautiful as you, and hiding your beauty is what crossed my mind in the first place."

His remark gets a snort out of her, a small navy strand waving and falling behind her ears. "As well as with sorcery, you seem to be very well trained with words," Mylenne remarks with a lift of her eyebrows, turning away from the mirror and facing the male.

She's not aware of when did she get that comfortable with his touch or his closeness, but it's right at that moment, right when they are facing each other once again, when she realizes that she likes it—and her heart flutters when realization dawns on her, blinking twice as if she had been slapped in the face.

She likes Illidan Stormrage.

She can't help it when he grins at her, reciprocating with another big smile of her own, their faces again inches away from each other—and she likes that.

However, is as Mylenne looks into his eyes, those stunning golden eyes with shades of amber and yellow, that she gets to notice his gaze fixed on her silver orbs—the only part of her that is not disguised—looking at her like a gift from the very Goddess.

She likes that the most.

She feels more than hears his skin—his energy, his aura, the very intangible part of him—calling for her, yearning for her, enveloping her in its warmth as she slowly lifts on her tiptoes, her mind going blank with her sheer desire to close the distance between their lips.

His strong arms tighten around her waist, a cobalt-haired head moving down being the last thing Mylenne gets to see before fluttering her eyes shut, her nimble hands traveling to his chest. Once again, his breath is soft against her face, washing over her like pure, clean water, as she ventures further to finally meet the source of his warmth…

Until another voice reaches her ears, a male one which comes from the main floor. "So, are you going to stay up there, Mylie? Because I really should get going!"