Even before Colin's eyes opened, he knew he was in a mess of trouble. The thick, humid air along his skin alerted him to this about as instantly as had the ferocious panging at his scalp had. Even then, his immediate instinct to raise his arms and take a hand to soothe the pain was also inexcusably stricken from his instant anility. Still, it wasn't until he managed to break open his eyes that he began to panic, finding only darkness surrounding him, the fetid stench of cave moss and foreign odor immediately causing him to shake in retching withdrawal.

He peered down to examine the silken material binding his arms to his torso, following down the length of his body, nearly from his shoulders to his knees, calculating how exactly to extricate himself from this situation, only finding his mind wandering back to his only previous memories. of things gone wrong.

Colin knew the dangers associated with trekking further up the mountainous terrain of Stonetalon, most notably due to the vicious population of harpies that took to calling the higher altitude home, though Colin had been certain of any safe travel, so long as he not Kyra made trouble for them on the way to the sacred Grove at it's peak. Perhaps he'd been naïve, the thought now crossed him, though that was easy to surmise now, given his current predicament.

What frightened him most, however, is that he had left on this excursion before his beloved, Kyra, had woken up, leaving him wholly at the mercy of her patience, which itself had been threaded lengthy by their time together- Colin knew he had required so much more patience than others, a fact that now seemed to hold his life in it's balance.

As if a lantern's light had switched on in an instant, his mind conjured up a plan. He was a mage! one whom had practiced the art of conflagration, at that. Colin wiggled his arms to no avail; it seemed his arms were numb by their utter inability to even wince at their muscles. He crooked his neck in the darkness, aiming toward where his right hand must have been, snapping at his finger with a peculiar furtive motion, as though his construction was, indeed, barring his fingers full feeling, slowed as his blood vessels must have been.

He buried his teeth into his bottom lip, running them back and forth along his thin skin as he willed his fingers into action. Shutting his eyes, Colin took in a deep breath, imagining the swirling heat of his lungs flowing out from within him, pouring itself through his blood, following it's path through his legs, feet, even his head: the trek of blistering, steaming blood coursing through his arms, focused on his fingers. Colin's eyes shot open, forcing his muscles to fill up whatever space they could within his silken prison, before bursting steam from his nose, throwing his hands down-

*SNAP*!

But nothing came.

Head dropping against his chest, Colin sighed, rolling his eyes at his predicament. What he fool he must be, coming all this way without a word to the others. He new better than that, and yet here he was. Vylira's visit had caused him a significant deal of determination when it came to the domestic tasks between he and Kyra; certainly, he thought, it had been best to leave Kyra still sleeping in those early morning hours rather than rouse her with his itinerary. She would have come with him, which would have involved waking her sister as well, upon which Vylira's would have accompanied them- it was a mess, and Colin thought it advantageous to simply purify the waters of the moon well at the peak himself rather than saddle the others with such a lengthy task.

So lost in his tumult, Colin's mind finally snapped to his current predicament, rather than the causes behind it. He was bound in a cave, almost certainly at the hands of the local harpies…the carnivorous harpies. His presence suddenly felt far more well-reasoned: why he was here, alive, rather than having been left on the road. Visions of his time amongst the trolls of Echo Isles gave him pause; sacrifices, the images of animals upon spits, lapped at by the very flames meant to cook them alive.

His situation immediately grew more dire.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, as if calming his nerves by pretending to not be alone here.

Colin aimed his head in every appreciable direction, still finding nothing in the oppressive darkness, deciding on the only real avenue he had available to him. He threw his head to the side, attempting to throw himself onto the ground, perhaps in an attempt to emulate an adder -hey, it was worth a shot- before throwing his head back and forth, attempting desperately to rock himself back and forth, again, to no avail. Still, he had to continue trying g. Perhaps the movement would loosen his bonds? Perhaps it would lead to some new option afforded him?

"Sssssss-… "

Snapping to a halt, Colin's eyes widened, staring into the darkness before him. The sound had slithered into his ear with such a low, guttural tenor, like one strained into an act. He tilted his head in examination, more with his ear than eyes, as the sound broke through the air once again.

"Ssss- ssss- sss-"

Now broken in it's cadence, Colin swore he heard laughter breaking through the high-pitched voice.

He bit his tongue.

"..hello?"

Now a giggle.

"Hee hee hee!"

Colin heard their volume grow as they seemed to approach him.

"I'm not supposed to speak to my dinner."

Rolling his eyes at such a brusquely dramatic set of words, Colin groaned, "Is that why I'm here?"

There wasn't an answer, though the voice changed to the sound of rocks being stirred, as though somebody was stepping around him. Colin narrowed his eyes, trying to make out whomever it might have been, only to be met with another oddly cheerful sentence from the being.

"We've been watching you two for months. Now we get to taste one of you."

Colin could now place himself fully into one of the harpy holes to the north of his home. He and Kyra had often noted the skulking eyes of their savage neighbors, but had taken an unspoken truce with them that followed their treks up and down the mountain: make no trouble, find no trouble. Despite never having met, the arrangement had seemed to work until now.

More importantly, Colin had ammunition.

"Show yourself," their steps went on, "..harpy."

The rakish rustle of pebbles halted in an instant. Colin surmised he had caught them off guard, leaving them in silent contemplation of how exactly to advance, though Colin was legitimately curious as to whether or not this was protocol: teasing their food before consumption. Nevertheless, he had stopped their movement; perhaps there would be another verbal volley, more information to gain. He only hoped that he could, once again, disarm this faceless opponent, either driving them nuts to the point of making a show that lead him to his capture, or perhaps winning freedom with a bout or two of knowledge. Perhaps his escape was-

"You-! You stupid-head!"

The voice shot out like a cannon before the rustling of stones started up again in time with somebody rushing off deeper into the cavern. Not least of which were his eyes piqued, but his mind as well, as Colin sat there in surprise. He had hoped to have gained some clout with his captors, and yet they had appeared to have been a mere child!

Groaning something fierce, Colin returned his attention to his fingers, snapping at them weakly with a continued frustration. Perhaps, should the voice return, he began to think, he might could trick his way out rather than earning respect. He couldn't help but lend such a foolishly optimistic plan some level of credence.


Kyra stretched out her arms across the length of mattress that would nestle her beside her husband, immediately captivated by the absence of his body that her hand was absently aiming for. She opened her eyes, turning her head to find Colin, indeed, having gone missing, the thought touching her mind for a few moments before she relaxed back into her pillow, shutting her eyes in silent contemplation. She took stock of the warmth trapped beneath the thick blanket that lined her stomach, wistfully pondering how much of it had once belonged to her verses her lover, as though such a calculation were possible, or furthermore, indicative of how long she'd been alone here without him.

It hadn't been the first time the thought had crossed her mind. She had, in a previous iteration of her life, been so devoted to her own self: her career, her own feelings, how she looked at and planned her daily life. She didn't know whether to love or despise just how dependent she had become on her mate's presence; so long as he rose to the challenge, and failed to show fault in her trust, it couldn't have been so terrible, she imagined to herself.

Still, the lonesomeness in her heart at his absence warranted such thoughts. It had been routine for whomever had first woken to wake the other with a lengthy kiss on the cheek or forehead, waking them to such a tender touch, as well as the possibility of that imperceptible moment of Nirvana upon waking and discovering the opportunity toward further sleep. Kyra so missed that moment on the rare chances they didn't come. She didn't know whether to be bothered by it.

At some point, her mind tracked back toward their guest: Vylira, her sister. Having arrived from Darnassus per request, Vylira had shown up a handful of days ago, much to the shock of Kyra upon laying her eyes upon the sickly swirling of black skin that coiled along the visible portions of her body. A remnant of her and Colin's mission to Northrend, Vylira wore it without much in the way of regret, at least not that she showed to the two lovers, and which forced her into the service of the Priestesses of the Moon, ostensibly to study the effects of having been encoiled by the demon satyr Aerxaxx. To hear Vylira tell it, she must have gone against all orders to make it here, but Kyra surmised her old mentor, Tyriel, had pulled some strings.

Kyra's guilt often consumed her upon ever seeing her sister, magnified all the more by Vylira's resistance toward blaming her. It had ultimately been Kyra's mission, and yet Vylira accepted what had happened without qualm, frustrating Kyra to a great effect. She wished her older sister would, at the least, yell at her in frustration at how radically altered her life had been as a result.

Though, Vylira's demon-colored skin wasn't the only thing brought back from Northrend. Something far more consequential- something that stared back at Kyra whenever encircled by her lover's arms, when their eyes would meet, and she found eternity in her human mate's eyes. Immortality. The divine amalgamation of three years worth of Ysera's careful watch. So often was Kyra the protector of her husband; it wrenched at her heart the ease with which she felt protected that this man would forever be by her side.

Perhaps, she surmised in patient thought, being so dependent on an immortal being wouldn't be the worst thing to weigh on her heart.

Kyra sighed in morning reverie, stretching her limbs once more before spinning at her side, clutching Colin's pillow into her arms, yanking it as much into her chest as she could, stretching her arm's worth of muscle, popping a joint or two. Catching his subtle scent; stretching out her heart, too, as she thought of her affections for the man whom she shared a bed with. Another morningful groan at the idea of rousing herself followed as Kyra begrudgingly shoved herself off the bed, the chill of mountain air catching the nude portions of her skin for a brief few moments as she grabbed her woolen robe, marked with the letter 'K' on it's breast, and wrapped herself within it's warm confines before stepping toward the door.

Entering the cottage-like interior of their living area, Kyra was careful to saunter quietly, not wishing to awaken her sister, into the kitchen, taking a moment to glance out the window that faced the southern pathway down the mountain. She felt a pang of nostalgia at the earthen scent that wafted in, reflecting on the chirping of some birds that were fluttering out of view. Her eyes narrowed longingly, hoping Colin might be trudging toward the house, but to no avail.

Instead, she found her favorite mug -emboldened with a Darnassian phrase recounting one's distaste for the ninth day of the week on some ancient Kaldorei calendar- and readied a kettle to prepare some tea, nostalgically pinching a marginal amount of leaves from a nearby container. Her hand steadied itself as she folded the leaves into a clothen satchel, dropping it into the mug as she waiting the kettle to fire.

Although she had been no stranger to tea before, Colin's attention to detail on the practice and tasting of tea had grown upon her in their years together. Such an activity as tea brewing, while having never truly been associated with anybody, or anything, now had grown into a referential memory to Colin, leaving her heart panging once again. More than that, the kettle was taking forever to heat up; Colin often simply lit his hand afire and boiled the water in a near instant.

"Yaaaawn…" roused Vylira's tired voice, husky as it remained, from the adjoining room.

Kyra grinned at her prim-and-proper sisters blatant disregard for such things when it came to, what was essentially, a vacation for her. Silverwings, she had known, were taught to be prepared for every possibility, some of the more stoic ones even adding outright impossibilities to that list of preparedness, though Vylira seemed to have taken a sabbatical from such ideals.

"It's cooooold," the elder sister complained to nobody.

Kyra leaned toward the doorway between the two rooms, "There's tea in here, dear sister."

"Ah!" Vylira piped up at the acknowledgement of her sister's presense, "I suppose I could-" She raised her arms into the air and stretched. "Yaaaaaawn -have a cup or two."

Kyra raised her brow, "or five."

With a groggy start, Vylira's feet shuffled closer, "Oh, hush. You're my baby sister; you shouldn't be chiding me."

"And you're the shining example of a role model, yourself, huh?" Kyra challenged wryly, now that Vylira was nearly stumbling into the kitchen, hair affray with wistless strands running every which way atop dimmed eyes.

The elder sister fell onto the wooden countertop with only her elbows and arms to catch her, resting her chin there as her eyes fell closed once again, speaking in empty tones, "You're so mean, baby sis..."

Kyra took the chance to glance at Vylira's neck, where that lengthy strand of black tattooed itself before winding down beyond the collar of her robe. Her eyes curled regretfully for but a moment before turning her attention away, knowing her sister would get riled up were she to catch Kyra staring.

"I could use some food, as well," Vylira complained, her cadence uneven due to her sleepiness.

Shrugging, Kyra assured her, "Colin was adamant about cooking for us this morning. We told you to make yourself at home, though; if you're hungry, there's a pantry right over there."

"I knoooow. I just hate to undercut the housewife," Vylira sighed, "You know I wouldn't know the first thing about treating guests in my home. I don't even have one!"

Lips turned in dismay, Kyra uttered quietly, "I'm not a housewife. I keep to my training regimen. Colin and I travel all the time; it's not as if we have children."

Vylira pawed restfully at a jar that resembled a ceramic nightsaber paw.

"…specifically, anyway," Kyra qualified simply.

"I didn't mean anything by it," Vylira muttered in defense, "I mean, you're a wife in a house. You're not bearing a brood of eighteen gnome children like they do over there, but I'm not wrong. There's a certain comfort I find in being here because of it."

"Impotent domesticity," Kyra complained aloud with a sigh.

Cocking a grin, Vylira tilted her head with a tease, "I think your husband has more of that than you do. I wasn't inside for five minutes before he's showing everything off. 'Oh! The bookshelf! Oh! The storage room! Oh, look! I lost a bit of blood on that beam trying to nail that in there!'. I just don't get it. I'm a transient queen, I suppose."

Her voice so lined with regret, Kyra merely watched as Vylira went on, "Sometimes I wish I could relax like this. But I don't know; I just always have this itch."

"For adventure," Kyra surmised with a easy voice.

Shrugging, Vylira extrapolated, "I mean, yeah, but- Adventure, exploration; seeing a new sunrise with every new day. Meeting weird people, plotting my way out of different situations. I know, with you, you sort of grew up sickly, learning to appreciate each day ahead of you, but- I don't know."

Her eyes opened slow, as though she had to fight for each increment of movement, "You wake up and your first instinct is to drink your tea. I awaken and my body tells me to run in a different direction every day."

Kyra wondered quizzically, "I mean, you're here now."

"I mean, settling down is nice once in a while, I guess. Just not forever," Vylira admitted before pressing on with a voice full of awe, "The way you told it the other night, you two have a lot of forever."

Thankful that Vylira shut her eyes once again, Kyra allowed a soft grin to cross her face.

For all the time Colin had spent showing her different methods of brewing, different measurements and increments, his preferred method of heating the water in an instant sort of lost out on moments such as these, she thought. This meditative wait, however, for the water to boil- it so filled Kyra with an anticipation that had been lost on most of her recent brews done by Colin's hand. Perhaps she would have to re-teach him the magic of patience, she thought with a smirk.

"Hold on…" Vylira's eyes opened into vicious orbs of light, "I mentioned the possibility of you having children and you didn't deny it."

Kyra eyed her with a blank expression, "Was I supposed to?"

"I guess not, but- This is uncharted territor- I mean, you hadn't mentioned it before."

Kyra allowed a quiet chuckle, "We fought for immortality together; I figured the writing was on the wall at that point." She adjusted the kettle atop the small, stone hearth atop the counter. "Why? You hate kids, so you'll refrain from visiting?"

Head falling to the side, more due to tire than anything, Vylira whined bemusedly, "Nooo, it's not that."

She paused, falling into silence once again before curling her lips, "You were the first child I ever actually liked."

Her eyes cocking to the side, Kyra wondered aloud, "So this is an age thing? The first baby you like is now in her two-hundreds and flirting with the idea of kids of her own?"

Frowning, Vylira unleashed a lengthy, exaggerated sigh, "You knoooow, when you make it sound like I'm so petty, it really kills the mood. and makes me sound like a horrible sister."

Kyra giggled under her breath, "Whenever it happens, I'm sure you'll be as wonderful to my baby as you were to me."

Not stirring from her exhaustion-induced resting on the edge of the countertop, Vylira failed to reply, leaving Kyra to further ready the two mugs sitting there, rolling up another cloth pouch of tea leaves for her sister's mug.

"You're not wrong," Vylira suddenly admitted, earning a confused glance from her younger sister. "You being all grown up. I don't know."

Finding the utter disconnect between the two of them -Vylira bemoaning the fact of her age, while the demonic affliction upon her body was taboo- to be rather poignant in some ways, Kyra crossed her arms with a start, "Are you sure it's your age you should be concerned about and not, say, that situation on your neck there?"

Vylira's lips finally curled into a smirk, "I was wondering if you were ever going to mention it. I've been laughing the last few days catching you staring at it and jolting your eyes away whenever I return a glance."

"Yeah, well…" Kyra sighed, "It is my fault."

"Your fault that I made the decisions that I did? Oh, hush," Vylira chided with an easy temperament, "My little sister complaining to me about such things! Please."

She made a groggy movement upright, stepped around the counter's edge to embrace her sister, "You're my baby sister. I'd have done this, and so much more, for you. That's just what big sisters do."

"And in return," she went on, eying the now-piping hot kettle, "Our little sisters make us tea, and little tiny dolls of vine that we have zero use for, but we keep because they're quite sweet."

Kyra rolled her eyes, "You didn't keep that thing."

"I absolutely did! It's…somewhere."

"You haven't even a home," Kyra corrected with a wry sort of grin, "Now scoot! You said I'm to prepare you some tea."

In a dismissive motion, Vylira relegated herself back to her previous spot, though now noticeably more perked by the promise of tea. She clutched at the cedar material of the counter, fingers tensed in excitement as Kyra readied the kettle, gently pouring it over the bags of tea.

"Wow. The famous assortment of tea leaves," she admired.

Correcting her, Kyra teased, "Famous as far as the front door, I suppose."

"Hmm, Colin made it sound like the best thing ever," Vylira frowned as the aroma began permeating the air before her, "Smells pretty bland. and dusty."

Nodding with the tempered understanding of a teacher, Kyra instructed, "Just give it a few minutes."

The two remained still, watching the watery mugs with uneven patience. Kyra only smiled softly, musing in her mind how quiet the room had become now that Vylira was taken, she thought, but such a meditative practice. It reminded her of her earliest training, even before becoming a Sentinel, where one was instructed to sit and empty their mind of all but a singular thought, passing sound, or memory. That focus would serve them in combat, though Kyra now appropriated such pensive motions of brainwaves to this almost studious examination of atmosphere, thinking of how she and her sister might even communicate, silently, in this breathless state of-

"Wow, how boring," Vylira groaned, tearing her sister from her state of near-tranquility, "Is it brewing or preparing for a quiz?"

Kyra sighed, running a hand across her face, "You know what, here."

She slid the closer of the two mugs toward her sister, "It's ready. "

Skeptical, Vylira still took the mug in her clenched fist and sarcastically eyed her host, "You know, I'm not stupid. I know it's going to taste horrible and you think I'm going to have a fun old time learning my lesson."

With shifting eyes, bemused by the point being made, Kyra only poked at the bag of tea in her still-steaming water, steeping it with a furtive motion while her eyes left her sister, the lack of attention earning her a boisterous, "EW!" from her guest. Kyra simply grinned as she noticed the tinge of her water slowly beckoning her, silently alerting her to its impending readiness. She softly pulled her mug closer, allowing it but another few moments, before raising it to her lips, taking her first, delicious sip while Vylira only looked on with misplaced trust.

"Perhaps we don't need another child," she teased.