First of all, my sincerest apologies for the delay. Been through a writer's block as well as just started university again - yep, lots of stuff coming over in between the last update and this one. In my defense, I've been making up some drafts of further chapters and lots of content from side stories, so I haven't been actually away from this story! I guess the next parts are coming way faster than this one but I can't certainly promise anything.

On another note, I'm taking down the fanart for now until I can get something better done. For those who'd really like to see that progress, you can always check out my writing blog on Tumblr (Hoxadrine) - it contains lots of content from the Starsurge 'verse, like aesthetics, Mylie, Illidan and Silgryn's headcanons, and some concept art I like to make for my characters. By all means, feel free to browse :D


Darnassian:

An'da: Father.

Kal-tora: Literal: "Birthnight". Birthday.

Alah darnana dor: Formal greeting.

Ishnu-dal-dieb: "Good fortune to your family."


Stareye

Oh, sweet Elune, have some mercy on me…

Despite not being too long since they last saw each other, Mylenne certainly wasn't expecting to meet Illidan again—at least not in his own accords, given how disappointed he appeared to be the last time she looked at his face.

Goddess, and how a handsome face he has; not even that pompous mask really able to cover the sheer beauty over his golden gaze.

Those same golden eyes that, right then, gleam in delight at the evident shock plastered over her face. "Expecting someone else?" He smiles, tightening his hold on her waist when her moves go slightly uncoordinated.

"Well, I thought…" A fortunate pause follows when they briefly separate; waiting for Illidan to return as he walks around her, imitating the steps from the male dancers around. "I certainly wasn't expecting you, very much less in here, of all places."

"What can I say? I'm always down for some fancy parties such as these," Illidan shrugs faintly as he captures her hands again, leading the way across the dance floor, "It's fortunate that I have Syrana, or I wouldn't have come here otherwise." He remarks, nodding vaguely to the couples around them.

"Oh, yeah, Lady Starweave. Lady Ailen told me a thing or two about her," Mylenne recalls quickly, taking a furtive glance to the rest of the dancers as they go, "She seems… uhm, charming? At least, that seems fitting for a Lady of the Court such as her," An uncomfortable blush follows, not really knowing what to say about his friend.

Despite being learning proper manners and diplomacy for close than three centuries so far, she knows she's still a mess when it comes to treating and behaving appropriately among the Highborne, mostly for her An'da's displeasure.

Her recent acquaintance—and daughter of the current associate of her Household—Lady Ailen Astravar, had been very helpful in remarking her the basics; yet nobody knows as better as Mylenne does that she'll probably never be a suitable Lady of the Court or, at the very least, not for everyone's expectations.

Somehow is both a blessing as well as very unfortunate, how she manages to fail at everything that Lord Desdel Stareye expects from her. No magic to get any more pretty, no good skills for healing or leading, an evident lack of proper style and a tendency to rebel against the ways of the kaldorei nobility.

It's still a wonder how a man such as Illidan Stormrage—a fairly opposite of her in so many ways—could be right there enjoying a dance with such a failure as her.

Or even chuckling at her lack of words, "No need to be modest with me, I know Syra for more than forty years. I'm aware of her effects among the nobles," Illidan mentions, remarking his words with a tilt of his cobalt eyebrows before switching into a serious tone. "However, while her connections are a nice plus, she couldn't tell me much of your last whereabouts."

"So, it looks like we've both been surprised tonight, then." She smiles as they quicken their pace with the increasing tempo.

However, even with their fast spinning, she can see the way his eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Huh? Oh, no, I knew you'd come. That's actually why I'm here, Mylenne," He explains as if it's obvious, leaning a little closer for some privacy as they encircle each other—only joined with their palms pressed together. "Although I'm afraid I wasn't very happy with the way I found out about you. Your… acquaintances, they look pretty much like the reserved type."

She only stares at his face, nearly slack-mouthed and slightly conscious of the funny face she must be making, although she can't really help it. Did I hear that right? No, I must surely be going deaf.

"What? I… I think I'm lost." She tries for words, but the sound of her name coming from Illidan's lips along with a huge load of questions assaulting her mind aren't particularly helpful, "I don't get it, weren't you here for the 'fancy party'?"

Judging by the cocking of his head, he seems to be losing the track of the conversation as well. "What's not to get? That I've been looking for you since the Festival?" He wonders genuinely, a deep frown following, "I thought if your uncle knew, then you would know as well."

Fortunately, she's quick in putting two and two together and recalling what he just said, her 'acquaintance' meaning Silgryn Stareye. Although how did Illidan happen to encounter him—the same man that's known to be quite slippery when it comes to being found by someone, even his own relatives—she certainly doesn't have any clue.

And yet, there's a bigger question nagging her, coming right when the song comes close to meet its end and, therefore, their dance to finish.

"You got into all this trouble only to see me?" The words come out of her mouth without giving her time to take them back, "But… aren't you… I thought—"

"That I'd be mad at you?" Illidan finishes for her, his frowning softening when the routine of their steps allow him to face her, "I am a little, to be honest. It's not nice to be kept away from crucial details." He admits, holding her lower back and slightly closer than necessary.

She's ready to say something in her defense, but only a gasp escapes her after Illidan takes her by the waist and lifts her in the air briefly, the movement surprising her. Dear Elune, if he's good at this.

"But I'd be lying if I said I never wanted to see you again." He then confesses, a sly smirk taking form on his lips ever so slowly, widening just as slow as he bends her back—carefully, elegantly, the very imitation of the way they ended their previous dance, many months ago.

Although Mylenne isn't as flustered and slightly dizzy this time, allowing her to glance at the breathtaking view of her dancing partner above, his cerulean mask useless to hide the evident delight gleaming on his bright golden gaze.

"And having the opportunity to dance with such a beautiful Lady of the Court, that's something I certainly can't refuse…" Illidan whispers, only for her to hear, his breath leaving a ghost touch over her face as he leans over her figure, a mere couple of inches closer.

Yet, with her eyes unconsciously traveling to his lips, it's still not as close as she'd like.

A moment goes by—or a whole night, Mylenne could never be sure—before he helps her in getting straightened again, that sultry look in his eyes never wavering as he walks a step back and bows before her. She does the same, although with a near clumsiness from her part, making her best to focus on where they are, struggling with her growing nervousness as she gets aware of the many eyes watching her from every corner.

"While I'd say the third is the charm, I believe this is a better time to take a walk instead," Illidan manages to recall her attention again, offering his arm as a silent cue for them to leave the dance floor.

She can't help with chuckling, feeling amazed by his very courteous manners, holding to the crook of his elbow and taking their leave, allowing other couples to take their place.

"You seem to be handling this pretty well," Mylenne admits as she casts a glance around, trying to keep up with the Lords and Ladies saluting her as they go, "Or better than me, actually. Maybe we should switch places sometimes…"

Illidan snorts faintly, "Well, while I certainly wouldn't mind, I'm not sure if I'd do that when it's obvious that you will get the better hand," He points out, somehow managing to get themselves a little closer after a waitress comes by, grabbing the last glass of Nightwine as if having a one-time chance to do so.

Mylenne sends him one of her most genuine smiles of that night as she takes the offered drink, thankful as well as humbled for Illidan's attentions. While she's absolutely not sure what she did to capture his interest, it feels amazingly good to have something close than an ally around her, willing to help her to play the scheming game of the Court—something she didn't know she needed so much until arriving at Lord Moonblade's manor.

After Illidan spots a free table for them to use, they get quickly acquainted with their last events for the past months. He tells her of his very unusual meeting with Silgryn two weeks ago, his barely controlled annoying tone making it obvious to notice his dislike over the situation he endured. She believes him, nonetheless, mostly for his mentions of her uncle being 'too much of a tease', certainly so when Illidan shows her a letter afterwards, claiming to be from one of Silgryn's friends.

Mylenne tucks her head closer to him as she gives the letter a quick read. "Well, I'd say that it looks like you made a friend," She jests, shrugging casually and not feeling too worried about it as Illidan appears to be.

"Really? That's all you have to say?" He looks shocked for a mere moment, blinking twice as if confused, "What is it with you Highborne and taking the fact of being spied on so lightly?"

"No, I wouldn't take this like that if it didn't come from my uncle or his friends," Mylenne corrects him, a frown following to assure her point. "Look, it's just what Silgryn does, alright? He has always kept tabs on me and the people around me... he's the only one who does, actually," Her voice unconsciously goes somber as she goes, silver eyes dropping to the table and nowhere in particular.

Illidan hums in thought—or displeasure, she can't guess—as he tucks the note into a pocket of his jacket. "You say that as if he's the only one who cares about you," He concludes, his tone certainly not nice, "… That sounds far from the truth, if you ask me."

A deep sigh escapes her, nursing her nearly finished drink and hesitating to continue on that line of conversation. She already talked about it with Hargo, not far long than two weeks ago, and bringing the topic of her loneliness and isolation isn't something she's looking forward to discussing again—very much less so on a kal-tora party, of all places.

Somehow, her face must have shown it all, for then Illidan continues, "I understand if you don't want to discuss that, but I'd suggest for you to take a small look around," A frown narrows his masked, dark-skinned face as he leans closer to her, lowering his voice, "Your… friend, Hargo'then, isn't the only one willing to be your ally among this people."

The way he mentions Hargo's name piques her interest, raising her gaze to him. Although while her curiosity starts nagging her, she decides for a slow, careful approach, "Well, it does seem you know your way around the nobility after a—"

But all her thoughts—as well as her easiness—are brushed aside when another figure approaches their table, "Mylenne, dear! There you are!"

Her heart sinks, face going paler than the very Moon. Father…

His glass of Nightwine clanks against the table when he drops it there, making her notice within a moment of awareness how slightly erratic his movements are. So, he must be drunk already—a peering glance at his too-smiling dull eyes confirming it so.

"Good to see you managed to get rid of Lady Ailen's pestering guards," Desdel sends a fake smile at her, his voice controlled and neutral even with the state he's into, looming a little bit further over her and half-shadowing her figure. "I've been looking for you, child…"

The fact that he doesn't acknowledge her companion—so very silent and still, yet intensely focused on the newcomer's movements—sends an ice cold shiver of dread deep to her insides, pooling around her gut. Mylenne doesn't need to translate what he just said, the feigned tone of his voice saying all that she needs to know.

That whatever she did that night—singing for their host, mingling around with Lady Ailen, or daring to have a dance with two males Desdel never approved of—he's not pleased in the slightest.

Doing her best to keep her composure, she stands up without a moment's hesitation, "An'da, I… I'm sorry," Mylenne croaks, quickly clearing her throat and tucking beside him before any further protest from his part, "I must have lost track of time. I guess that we're going, now?"

"And leaving so early in the night? Oh, but that is such a pity!"

Illidan's baritone voice clings to her as he stands up as well, a charming smile crossing his lips and growing along with her sudden apprehension. "I have always wanted to meet the Nightsaber of Suramar. Your combat prowess is heard even far into the lands of Ameth'Aran," He regards her father, facing him with all the easiness in the world.

Her heart goes racing, silver eyes going wide. What in Elune's name is he doing?

"Oh, is that so?" Desdel wonders curiously, a small gleaming in his dull eyes revealing a certain delight with Illidan's praises, "Myl, dear, I was not aware you were with company. Alah darnana dor, sir…"

"Lord Eradan of House Darkweave. It is an honor, Lord Stareye," Illidan says as he bows politely, his demeanor—as well as his lies—coming out so naturally, making her blink in no small astonishment, "You must pardon me; I am afraid I could not help with taking your beautiful daughter from you. You have raised a remarkable woman, milord."

"Ah, Eradan, there's no need of that…" Mylenne points out, taking precious care in being as subtle as possible with the warning glance she sends to him.

Her hands start to shake with her growing nervousness, trying not to fidget so much with both of the male's eyes on her. And while she's getting aware of Illidan's schemes with her father, she certainly can't keep her apprehension from taking control of her.

It can't be anything but dangerous to play along with such a manipulative man as Desdel Stareye. How can Illidan even expect to succeed on this when it had been taking centuries and centuries of efforts from her part, with all ending up to be futile and pointless?

"I was wondering if I may borrow her for some more time, perhaps?" Comes Illidan's next move, approaching them with that charming smile still narrowing his face, "That, of course, if you do not mind. You see, Mylenne here had turned out to be such a delightful company, and I must admit I cannot grow tired of hearing her lovely voice…"

Really, praising me to earn my father's approval? Oh, Illidan, how little you know…

But her father doesn't answer right away, a tense moment going by, Desdel's faked smile seemingly about to disappear as his dull silver eyes roam over Illidan—inspecting his masked face, a nerve on his cheek twitching as if he's mentally going through all the outcomes, pondering his next move.

He knows… Oh, Goddess, he's aware of everything, he's surely going to call the guards!

Illidan's stare on him never falters, his intense gaze locking her father in his spot and smile not even wavering, looking pretty much aware of the nearly palpable tension around them and yet, not backing down by an inch.

Desdel's sharp jaw tilts up slightly and Mylenne can't help in reading herself for the worst; she has already endured the consequences of facing Lord Stareye uncountable times before—with Jarod, with Maiev, with Silgryn and even with her Min'da.

Mother Moon, don't let Illidan take the worst part in this.

A trembling hand rises to her father's elbow in an attempt to call for his attention, unable to just stand there and be a spectator of that matching stare, her heart already trying to hammer its way out of her chest.

Please, I implore you! I know I should have stopped this sooner but please, please… just grant me—

Desdel's eyes meet hers before she gets to touch him. "Well, how can I refuse after such insistence? And it'd be rude of us not to appease your new acquaintance after all, isn't it… dear?"

Wait, what? "I, uhm, I suppose so…" The words come out of her mouth quite messily, surprise and confusion plain evident in her face. Had the Goddess just listened to her?

More usually than she'd admit, Illidan is there to save her the trouble, outstretching a gloved hand to her and showing his most dashing smile, "Here, let us join my cousin, then," He lies again, placing her hand over his elbow without a moment of hesitation and casting an elegant nod in Lord Stareye's direction, "Ishnu-dal-dieb, milord. You have my thanks."

It takes quite long to wipe the shock out of Mylenne's face as they walk away, linked to him once more, though it's not that she can believe it rather easily. What had just happened?

Had Illidan just achieved the very impossible?

A pat on her hand takes her out of her reverie, meeting Illidan's smile, "You seem surprised. Don't worry; I rather am as well," He chuckles, the gleaming in his golden gaze showing how his mood had dramatically bolstered.

The curve of his lips gets contagious, a smirk starting to show from her part, "Are you? And here I just thought you were more confident than me," Mylenne points out, tilting her head in thought, "Or all of us, actually…"

"Ha! I was this close of casting a charming spell on him!" He laughs, shaking his head as if in disbelief while taking a route outside of the manor, "Probably not my brightest idea, though. It's commonly known how hardened in magic the Rooksguard is."

She hums in agreement, taking a moment to ponder about that, leaning further on his arm as they walk down a small set of stairs. A childish fantasy clings to her mind, wondering how it'd turn out if Jarod and Illidan might happen to get into fighting each other—a thought she never dares to voice, however, for she's not really looking forward to being looked that silly.

And the least she wants is to talk about magic, of all things.

Instead, she focuses on another interesting point, "So, Eradan, huh? That remarkably suits you," Mylenne snickers, her easiness returning as they approach an open gate leading to the backyard.

"Isn't that right? I thought the same. Seems like I've found a fitting alter ego," Illidan winks, holding the door for her as she walks outside of the manor, leaving the party behind.


While it's not the warmest night of the season, Mylenne can't be any more glad then they reach the gardens, the feeling of the moonlight washing over her way better than the softest of silks.

A soft smile clings to her lips when taking a look around, noticing how peaceful the landscape appears to be; only with the company of some night owls chanting their usual songs, as well as some oblivious nobles on a small bench, relaxing as they smoke from a big pipe.

A cold breeze rises as she waits for Illidan to catch up with her, getting her to rub her arms in a half-unconscious manner—just as half-conscious when she nearly jumps and flinches away when a dark cape is placed over her shoulders.

"That thin gown isn't going to help you to get warm, anyway," Illidan says softly from behind her shoulder, delicately pulling her long braid aside and adjusting the fabric for her.

A blush creeps up from her neck to her cheeks, her recently repainted markings pretty much useless to cover it, doing her best to not flush so much with his courtesies. "Well, thank you, milord," Mylenne opts for a joke as she turns around, pulling some rebel locks of hair away from her face, "I haven't really considered—"

The rest of the words escape her when the pale moonlight washes over them both, nearly gaping as her eyes find his handsome and now unmasked face, the silver-white light haloing his head.

When Illidan's golden eyes meet hers—bright, oh so beautiful and filled with awe—she feels for the briefest of moments, how time and the whole world just… stops. Her vision gets blurry and dark on the corners, but the natural need for blinking never comes, leaving her only with the breathtaking sight of the man before her.

It's just as stunning as nearly overwhelming, and Mylenne's not sure if she had ever seen something so perfect before—like the hand of the very Goddess reaching down to stroke them, sheltering them from the world. But his eyes, oh, sweet Elune, his eyes…

She had seen that look once before, that time when he appeared at the Temple, in that particular stormy night; that certain look that made her feel as if he was focusing on the very single thing worth looking at.

So hypnotizing and never faltering, as if he tries to capture every single inch of her and just blinking would ruin everything. So intense and so entrancing, drying her mouth and sending her heart racing wildly, very close to hammering its way out of her chest. That look is like the purest of blessings, making her feel admired, worshiped. Beautiful.

Mylenne had never, ever felt beautiful under someone else's eyes.

As if the whole scene wasn't enough, a delightful smile clings onto Illidan's lips, right when time appears to get moving again. His grin is genuine, sharp teeth showing without any remorse, beaming at her just as bright as one thousand moons.

He captures her hands in his, "Let's get out of this place," Illidan proposes, not really looking up to take a no for an answer, his voice just as excited as his grinning, handsome face. "Come, I got a mount nearby,"

She never offers much resistance as Illidan takes the lead, walking backwards yet having her at arm's length all the way to the closest exit, "And where are we going?" Mylenne wonders, getting contagious with his eagerness, "What about…?"

"Are you really sure somebody here is going to miss you?" He quirks a cobalt eyebrow, smile widening as if making his point when she doesn't find a good reply to give.

A fit of girly giggles assaults her, making their way to the streets and stepping into the shadows before getting noticed by the guards or some prying eyes. A group of sabers comes into view when turning to the right, Illidan leading her to one nightsaber with a cerulean, much-adorned saddle.

A sad hum escapes her when she glances at the metallic collar bound with arcane magic around the beast's neck, the Starweave sigil resting on top of the surface—while it seems obvious that Illidan doesn't have a saber of his own and that one clearly isn't his, she can't help but frown in dislike at the sight of a tamed beast. In her opinion, mighty and clever animals such as them are supposed to roam free among the land and not otherwise.

As Illidan lets her go to undo the knots of the reins, she takes a moment by walking closer to the nightsaber, offering her palm for them to smell. Yellow catlike eyes meet Mylenne's silver ones, finding some relief when the beast accepts her touch, slightly purring as she strokes their big nose.

"It's no small wonder to see how attuned you seem to be with beasts such as these," Illidan enters her line of sight, from the other side of the saber's head, his features narrowed in seeming approval, "Looks like you never needed a degree in Biology after all, it seems you have a natural talent despite your educations,"

Mylenne sends a knowing look his way, slightly amused with that slip-up, "Huh. You've been digging, aren't you?" She says, although the tone of her voice not really remarks a question.

He only shrugs nonchalantly, looking like not giving it too much thought as they move forward, heading to the streets. "Well, your studies on sabers aren't really the most interesting thing I've found… Public records say you never showed signs of magic,"

The woman can't help with the annoyed groan coming out from the bottom of her throat. Why does everything always have to be about magic?

"Couldn't that be because I never did? I don't really see the point, Illidan." She admits with a rolling of her eyes.

"The point of that being a lie, perhaps?" He points out, stopping in his tracks as they reach the outskirts of the manor, tilting his head at her, "Regardless of that, I'm quite sure my eyes aren't playing tricks with me, Mylie…"

A snort escapes her with the sultry tone of his voice, teeth running to bite her bottom lip in a silly attempt to hide her incoming blush when his golden gaze briefly roams over her figure. How he always manages to give her a way out and easily switch into his charming persona, she's sure she may never know—and yet, she's just as thankful for it as she's flattered.

In an unconscious move to escape Illidan's pinning gaze, she deftly hops onto the saber's saddle, adjusting the hems of her dress a little. The man beside her only chuckles, looking quite aware of what he's provoking on her, then managing to climb behind her a moment later.

They get into trotting out of the party, a nice self-assurance growing on her when having the chance of taking the reins of the mount. The flushing in the woman's face never really fades as a clever, dark-skinned hand comes to encircle her waist, a thumb stroking her side, right above her lower ribs.

As the main route comes into view—and with the magnificent buildings from the Highborne's Court of Stars way left behind—Mylenne slows the saber's pacing, relaxing further in the saddle and basking in the silence and the slightly cold weather. It's been more than a month since she last transited any other suburbs of Suramar City despite the Highborne main streets, realizing just then how much she missed the playful breeze coming from the forest.

Somehow she can't help with also pondering how crazy and silly it must look, the fact of her sort of running away with the most handsome man in the party. Silgryn would have a whole month with that.

"And… what's so funny, if I may ask?" Illidan's breath caresses her ear, making it twitch and curve downwards involuntarily, the skin darkening with the blood rushing to her face.

Mylenne tries not to squirm, a little chuckle escaping her nonetheless. "Oh, just in how Silgryn could find the fact of me hanging out with a sorcerer utterly amusing," She tries for a nonchalant tone, doing her best in keeping her composure.

He snorts, clearly not agreeing with her statement, his shadow revealing the near close to exasperated shaking of his head, "At this point, I should be offended with you and your uncle's opinions towards sorcerers." The man confesses, yet somehow keeping it sounding casual.

She sighs heavily with his comment, her glee dying within the next second, "I know, Illidan, and I believe I owe you an apology," Mylenne admits, glancing behind her shoulder but not really daring to meet his face, "We've been definitely rude and it's not right to throw our prejudices to you as we've been doing. It wasn't my intention and for that, I am sorry."

"That's not necessary, I actually don't mind." He replies instantly, as if he's not up to keep on that line of conversation.

"But you should," She insists, their mount nearly coming to a full stop, "You have only been kind and nice to me, and—"

The hand on her waist travels to encircle her middle body, gently pulling her further to him. "Mylenne, that's certainly the least of my worries," Illidan assures her, the soft voice close to her ear making her think he's definitely doing that on purpose. "If anything, I should confess I'm rather more focused in knowing if I can get a chance with you… however little that may be…"

She's about to say something, but her mind goes blank when sharp canines carefully nibble her sensitive earlobe, breath hitching and a hot surge assaulting her. Clever fingertips travel further down to one of her thighs, sending a small shiver when they find a gap in her dress and come in contact with her skin, the feeling more electric and intense than just a simple tingle.

Illidan's mouth finds the juncture between her neck and shoulder, only a mere, very prudent brush of his lips against her, yet his warm breath nearly sends her trembling, captured in his arms. Her eyes roll backwards, coming just about to lose control of her body, head lolling back against his chest, so very close to going limp and boneless.

Besides the rapid heartbeat and his hot breathing, there's another sound rushing to her ears; something whispering her name, calling for her, just as exciting and inciting as Illidan's attentions. It's something she can't really place where is coming from, yet it feels to be all around them—thin as air, warm like the moonlight and… electric, sending goosebumps all over.

He hums in a mix of approval and pleasure and Mylenne's eyes drift open just barely, sighing deeply but noticing the odd rippling in the air—the arm holding and stroking her waist slightly glowing in purplish colors, a faint mist of arcane magic surrounding them both.

As Illidan's hand slowly and teasingly travels further up her inner thigh, it's with the sound of her name coming from his lips—so very tantalizing against her jaw—when the source of the other voice is revealed.

It's his magic calling—no, not calling but singing to her, chanting her name like… like a prayer; the sound so warm, so soothing, like the voice of the Mother Moon caressing her.

How is that even possible? I never felt something like this before, not even with another sorcerer like—

Her silver eyes open wide, breath hitching at the same time that Illidan starts kissing her jaw, hard lips dangerously roaming up to her cheek. It's when she grips his wrist when he stops, reluctantly pulling back a few inches. "Mylie…?"

No, no! Don't do it, you stupid! By the Goddess, just forget about… "I'm with Hargo." Mylenne breathes, deep guilt and frustration assaulting her altogether.

The longest moment of her entire life goes by, her lips pursing as she tries her best to recover her composure and think straight again—if there's a bare chance to do that. She feels Illidan's intense gaze beside her, so very still, looking as if she just punched him in the face. "So, what?" Is the only thing he mutters, not moving by an inch.

It takes a huge effort from her to swallow a sob, coming with her growing guilt. "And I… I'm sorry, but I can't," She nearly chokes the words, lowering her head in a silly attempt to escape his upset gaze. He's about to say—or rather to bark—something in return when she continues, "I can't do this to you, Illidan."

The man flinches away—that time definitely looking like slapped on the face—confusion narrowing his face. "What? What are you talking about?" He says, a tint of annoyance still in his voice.

Somehow she can't let go of the hand still placed on her waist, gripping it with both of hers in a silly effort of sending some reassurance—to him as well as to herself. "I… how do I say this?" She muses more to herself than to her companion, looking away as she unconsciously intertwines a hand to his, getting some relief when he allows it.

It's not that she rejects him out of interest—because it's rather the complete opposite—but with Hargo in the picture, somehow she can't let anything between her and Illidan go further. Although what's worse, is that she's sure Hargo wouldn't really mind, given that they're not at that point that could be considered a serious relationship.

Mylenne and Hargo are only lovers, another one from the fair amount she had and with merely two months of starting seeing each other; and yet, it seems more likely for that to be all they'll ever be—given their personal circumstances as well as their nature.

However, as their mount turns the corner and faces the outskirts of the city, Mylenne knows deep down that Hargo isn't the main reason of why she can't allow… whatever was about to happen with Illidan a few moments ago.

"Illidan, you…" She sighs deeply, thinking she might just voice her thoughts before her own silliness overtakes her, "You have only been kind to me, and always approached me rather nicely. At this point, I believe the least you deserve is my honesty and respect,"

And so much more than what I can give to you, she thinks, though never dares to voice it. "Respect…?" Illidan wonders, a thoughtful hum following. "You're trying to say you think you're using me?"

"Maybe I am, I—Oh, Goddess," She scoffs, never feeling as silly before as she currently is, "What I'm trying to say is I wouldn't, uhm, reject you if I didn't care about you, because I really do. You have done so much for me lately, and I… I owe you just as much."

Another tense moment goes by; his thoughtful silence making her feel itchy and somewhere close to miserable, a hand running through her temples in an attempt to soothe her discomfort. So much for trying to fix this mess, now you just offended him.

"You just said that," Illidan muses then, more to himself than for her to hear. She can't help this time in looking over her shoulder, meeting a golden gaze filled with wonder. "I, uhm, I never heard someone saying they cared about me so… genuinely."

A glint of hope blossoms in Mylenne's chest, her whole face brightening at the sight—for he definitely doesn't look upset, nor affronted, but rather more surprised. "Well, so to be clear, I really meant that," When his face softens some more, one of her hands dares to rise and head for his shoulder, trying to reassure him further, "Though I still have to admit I'm sorry—"

She gets interrupted with the sound of a newcomer relaxing nearby, exaggeratedly clearing their throat. Illidan is the first to break eye contact, his usual deep frown returning straight away as a small growl rumbles through his chest and throat.

"Dear Elune, if that isn't a sight for sore eyes!" A known male voice reaches them from the sidewalk, a glimpse of dark-violet hair revealing when they step under a street lamp, "Weren't you already humping another golden-eye, though?"

Mylenne gasps loudly, "Silgryn!" She exclaims, both as a greeting as well as a scolding, eyes blowing wide and face blushing instantly, looking away in an attempt to hide her deep embarrassment, "We weren't—I'm certainly not humping—"

A cackle from another man announces his appearance, coming straight from the shadows to stand next to Silgryn, "By Elune's glowing tits! Please, spare us the details, milady!" He tucks his bright green hair away from his face in an extravagant manner, leaning against the other side of the lamp her uncle is resting, "You can keep your coins, Sil. I'm not signing up for those tricky bits,"

A growl of disapproval comes from Illidan at the same time as she huffs, "Oh, that's it! Hold this, Illidan," The woman nearly throws the saber's reins at him as she works in hopping down, Illidan never complaining about it and even helping her to get off with his free hand.

Silgryn fakes an act of trying to protect himself, his amused façade dropping a few levels when Mylenne approaches to the couple of males and punches his forearm not-so-playfully. "Ow, ow! That's so not fair!" He complains with a pout, backing down a little, "I saved the lad further months of searching for you and this is how I get paid?"

"Oh, yeah, by spying on me," Illidan remarks from atop the mount's saddle, idly pacing around them and seemingly close to making a threatening show with the mighty beast's paws echoing on the bare grass. "You are not going to find an ally here, Silgryn." He sneers, glaring at the two males distrustfully.

"In my defense, that's Arluin's job, not mine!" Silgryn raises his hands in the universal sign for submission, sending the only woman in the odd party to roll her eyes at him.

The green-haired male clicks his tongue, "Please, I don't spy, I'm an information trader," Arluin clarifies, flicking a long index finger in the air as a way to point his statement. "That's a whole other set up for a job, I'd say,"

Mylenne can't help with slapping her forehead in annoyance, "That's still spying, and for some people it's just rude," She scolds both the males before her, frowning at her uncle when he snickers at Illidan's upset state.

Always truthful to his nonchalance, Silgryn gets into a playful banter with his friend about how his line of work can be easily mistaken for one of a spy. Mylenne shares some of her thoughts from time to time, not really feeling that offended as she attempted to look, yet still noticing how worked up Illidan seemed to be when he first mentioned his previous meeting with Silgryn to her. And while she's aware that probably she won't be able to repay all the nice things Illidan already did for her, it couldn't hurt to try and step up for him when the situation demanded it.

Speaking of which, it's when she glances to him that she notices Illidan not meeting her eyes, looking lost in thought atop his friend's bound nightsaber. With Silgryn and Arluin's conversation heating up and more focused on each other, the woman opts to walk to his side, gently resting a hand on Illidan's knee.

The man doesn't startle with her touch, but the seemingly forced smile on his face speaks volumes. "I'm still hoping you're not mad at me," Mylenne confesses as she looks to his golden eyes, her lips casting downwards when she doesn't find that usual—and ever-alluring—gleaming on them, "If it counts, I'd still like to hang out with you… but only if you'd like that too, of course,"

"You might want to give me some time," Illidan replies, still not meeting her gaze and fixed on her hand touching his knee. She's about to give him some space when, all in a sudden, his hand comes to rest atop hers—as if not really wanting for her to let him go. "But yeah, I'd like that. Although only if you stop disappearing or running out of my sights, for once."

A girly giggle escapes her with his comment, her face brightening and deep relief blossoming in her chest. In a moment of boldness, she unlatches one of the bluish stars adorning her long braid, placing it on his palm without much hesitation—a small and silly token of her appreciation, yet feeling glad when Illidan smiles genuinely at the gesture.

Stepping on her tiptoes, she pulls him down gently to kiss his cheek, doing her best to place her gratitude with the action. "Father is leaving in about a month or so. Perhaps I can look out for you at the Stronghold?"

Illidan captures her free hand then, the usual bright gleaming returning to his beautiful golden eyes, "I'll eagerly wait for your visit, then."