A farewell in several unequally probable parts
I
The day was clear for a change. Still windy, but that was expected from Boralus. A perfect day to try out a kite, or so the children had thought. The lone woman sitting on one of the piers looked up, following the rhomboid in the sky. One moment it was peaceful and controlled, a flutter of ribbons tied to the bigger kite. A moment later, a combination of the wind and an unfortunate tug made it snap. It floated away, drawing wild, frivolous shapes in the air, more like a bird of paradise than a toy gone rogue.
It could almost be surmised that kites and people had a lot in common, in certain circumstances. Sometimes, even a good, honest tether was not enough. Sometimes enough pushing and pulling could cause an irreversible snap. There was no one next to her, no one with whom she could share the sudden thought, so voicing it outside her head seemed pointless. Children knew better than to bother her. They quickly learned to leave her to her own devices after that one time she shifted and chased one of them on all fours, snapping her deadly jaws like a rabid hound until the cornered boy soiled himself in fear and curled up in an alley. She was been lucky the guards didn't throw her into jail for that, for sure. Then again, she hadn't hurt the child, and Kul Tirans were made of sterner stuff... They should be, having been descendants of -Gilnean- colonists, after all.
She reached up to rub the left side of her face, scarred and never properly healed. The pain was always there, sometimes dulled, at other times radiating some unholy warmth into her entire skull, making it hard to focus, hard to think. Hard to just... be. Rum helped. Not always, and in excess it would only make matters worse, but it was a reliable escape. One that didn't leave her alone, unless she threw the bottle away. She slept very little. Being constantly tired, groggy, and have the nipping cold of a body devoid of rest keeping her conscious was vastly preferable to the images her mind created and animated whenever she dared to dream.
The pain of regret was something that dulled the physical aches in a delicious manner. All that could have been. She remembered the people who trusted her. People she had personally recruited and offered the stylised moonclaw badges. It was her unit. Her responsibility. Something she couldn't bear, haunted by the mocking voice of self-doubt. And so it was back to the Eastern Kingdoms. Investigation work. Undercover. Dismantling gangs and the like. Except it turned out to be corrupt, disgusting. No one could be trusted. Not any more. Months of work turned into dust. Another failure.
Money was tight. Working nights at one of the questionable establishments helped, for sure, but it didn't allow for a cosy, spacious flat, worthy of a lieutenant. Was it a sign of weakness to think fondly about the little luxuries of life? She found work, though. Claws were an excellent deterrent for patrons who were too drunk to enter and great tools for removing those too stubborn to exit. At the end of the day, she was no better than them. The only difference was that she knew it was a bit less embarrassing to stay indoors and wait out the drunken stupor. They paid her and didn't ask that much about who she was. The face was a good letter of recommendation.
Rent went up. Oh well. She still had some things she could get rid of without shedding so much as a tear. Still, she was hesitant. Her left hand idly traced the three-pronged scar, cutting into the brow, forking on the cheek below. They even gave her a medal for it. Perhaps it would fetch a nice price. The rum she could get for it was worth more than the unexpected feeling of recognition, that day in the cathedral. In her right hand, she held a round medal, silver, with three daggers crossed and a purple and blue ribbon underneath. She turned it over in her hand to read the inscription one last time before she headed inside the pawnshop.
"To Alystoria Greencroft. For distinguished service in the field of covert operations, theatre intelligence management, scouting and ranger duties. For the valiant defence of Alliance territory in the Stonetalon Mountains when faced with unprovoked Horde aggression and unholy magic."
She wondered whether there was a medal powerful enough to rid her of nightmares. Silence the doubts, heal her body and spirit from the horror that whispered the darkest of thoughts, shattered the strongest of bonds and broke the mightiest of warriors. Even if it could pay for a comfortable life, away from it all, would it have been worth it?