Title: Patience (or, The Obligatory Lunar Festival Episode, 2015 Edition)
Description: "Sylvanas waits in line."
Notes1: Although not part of the thirty-six chapters I have written down on the Work Notepad, this was an idea I've had in mind for some time (read: nine months after the Lunar Festival 2015 trailer, as of this writing). The ending for this was originally going to be an all-out brawl...but that wouldn't be too fun, now would it?
Notes2: I'm amused by the reaction to what down in the previous chapter, but let's not engross ourselves in tunnel vision: the story is listed Li-Ming/Nova/Sylvanas FOR A REASON. I don't constrain myself to shipping given how...chaotic people can be about it (and why I still hesitate to call any Nova/Sylvanas interactions "romance", although readers will tell me otherwise). Still, I'm tempted to throw Tracer into the mix because why not; the Overwatch fandom already has her welded to Widowmaker. May as well go the extra mile.
Notes3: Also, again I need to apologize to SkullyPirate for saying in a PM I'd get this out three days ago but, you know, work. I am, surprisingly, off on Black Friday, so...perhaps I should do a Black Friday chapter? The people of the Nexus do have their bouts of insanity now and then.
Notes4: I miss making fan art for this. I might do more and add them to the DeviantArt page in the near future. Like, almost every picture of Sylvanas that I see is in red, black, purple or grey overtones. It's much too Gothic an art style befitting something zany as this fanfic.
Notes5: I had a friend way back when who had played Final Fantasy X during the heyday of the PS2 (I had only played FF9; I have not played X) and said that Yuna didn't like being such a good girl all the time and wanted to be a rebel (or something; the memory's fuzzy). Now I don't know how true that is, but that little conversation we had back as middle-schoolers brings to mind the one-eighty Jaina has going on in this chapter.

Sylvanas tapped her foot, raised her head and peered over Illidan's left shoulder—just in time to see Jaina backhand Arthas across the face again. The reek of protective and strength-augmented enchantments was sulfurous and thick as a pall of wood-burning smoke.

"Come on," she growled under her breath. Leaning back on her heels, she glanced at her watch: it was going on nine o'clock. She didn't see the need of owning a watch, but the Shire's clock tower had ceased functioning and, once the citizenry got over its bout of mass hysteria and descent into caveman mentality, folks started relying on using sundials and the good old-fashioned stick to tell time. It was a Pendleton-brand moonphase analog watch with a brown leather strap and detachable glass watch face inlaid with gold, a gift she had received from Li Li (and Nova, the pandaren girl insisted—always Nova, Sylvanas groused, but Li-Ming had to keep reminding her that it was her idea to get her something) during an all-girl's outing Jaina had put together a while back. It must've cost them both a bit of gold, since the Pendletons were one of the many watch- and clockmaking families renown throughout the Nexus.

"And this is for Stratholme!" Jaina cried, and there was the sound of flesh and magic smacking into metal. Sylvanas whipped her head up and looked over Illidan's right shoulder. She was treated to a view of Arthas straining against the magical bindings the Kirin Tor mage had placed on him, an ugly snarl twisting his frostbitten lips. Frostmourne lay forgotten next to him, also bound in arcane strands.

Illidan made an impatient noise and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Oi, Jaina! Let ev'ryone else 'ave their turn!" said Muradin, brandishing his axe and hammer. "Ye've been at it twenty minutes already! We're wasting silver for every five minutes we spend standin' here!"

"I'm not finished yet!" said Jaina, and she adjusted her grip on the flower-laced staff so she held as though it were a baseball bat.

"If you want another turn, get back in line and wait like the rest of us!" said Illidan.

"Says the man who claims his hatred is unending! And yet…here you are." Jaina swiveled her head around, shooting him a dangerous sidelong glance. "Go find a kettle and call it black, you…you…rusty pot!"

Illidan flashed her a mouth crammed full of fangs. "Woman, you did not just call me old—"

"Yes, she did," said Sylvanas. "You're over ten-thousand years old."

"Nobody asked you," he said, bearing his teeth at the Banshee Queen behind him. She shrugged, nonplussed.

"I am older than the two of you combined!" said Anub'arak, whose shadow loomed over both elves. "It would make sense if her statement were directed at me, as I have not rust but cobwebs clinging to my frame!"

"So dust them off, you relic," said Sylvanas, and Illidan nodded in begrudging agreement.

Anub'arak fiddled his pincers together and stamped his four legs. "Nerubians do not do dusting! These webs are our pride and joy! Also, we're incapable of reaching that far back! It is an absolute fury when you have an itch and you Can't. Reach it!"

"Sucks to be you then."

"Use your locusts, worm," said Illidan, harrumphing. "You have them for a reason. They're the ones that require a proper spring cleaning. Gods know how long they've been nesting under there." He grumbled this last under his breath, just loud enough for Anub'arak to perk up and catch it.

"What was that?!"

"PIPE DOWN! I CAN'T CONCENTRATE!" Jaina hollered, stopping her staff mid-swing. Arthas breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"I'd raise ya a beer fer that, lassie!" said Muradin. "Now hurry it up and make it count! I'm GETTIN' HUNGRY!"

"You're wide enough as it is!" said Sylvanas. "You can stand to lose a few pounds."

"AYE! Who are ye calling fat?" Muradin whirled around and pointed the axe at her. "Ye ever look in a mirror? Ah swear, it's like starin' at one o' those elf on a shelf toys at Hub-Mart! There ain't nothin' on ya!"

"Oh, I hate those things!" said Kael'thas in front of him. "They are a terrible representation of elvenkind! Now why can't we get something that's more like…well, more like us?"

"Define 'us'," said Sylvanas.

"Well, for starters: we're nothing like those cheap novelties. We have a skeletal structure and actual muscle mass. We have fangs dedicated to fine dining, ego inflation, and eviscerating fleshy jugulars with the speed of a graceful jaguar. We advocate a broad range of socio-political movements such as nature preservation, magical drug rehabilitation, and our favorite pastime: warmongering! With a side of backhanded compliments and snide pleasantries! Oh, and let us not forget our varying fashion designs and clothing lines that we totally did not plagiarize from those heathen trolls! We set the trends, not them! How do you think I get my hair to look this way?"

"If it's not applying coagulated demon blood as a hair gel, it's getting a little too in touch with your feminine side. People still don't take you blood elves seriously."

"A lot more than the rash of half-elves you see now and then." Kael'thas sniffed. "Why do full-bloods insist on shacking up with humans when we still have plenty of young, virile bodies to go around?"

"Let's just drop this discussion right here," she said with a sneer. "Listening to you talk about elves on shelves, eugenics, and cultural norms is almost insulting."

"Agreed," said Illidan. "Let us all agree we have more than what the media presents us as."

Kael'thas scoffed and turned away. "Spoilsports. Just admit that you cannot face the reality that's in front of you. The reality you were ripped from to begin with, so to say. I can scarce imagine a world where I was never born or, heavens forbid, be dead. Why, who would help those poor elves come to terms with themselves?"

Muradin and Sylvanas exchanged knowing looks. Illidan frowned deeply.

"Now, Jaina," Kael'thas began. She had the staff in that baseball bat grip and her body positioned as a player ready to strike one home for the team, and yet she still hadn't moved. "I don't mean to come off as pushy, but if you would be so kind as to, you know, finish up and let us have our turn? The night cannot stay young forever." He put a hand on her shoulder.

He felt her stiffen under his touch. "Kael'thas," she said. "Have you ever wondered what it'd like to be a shooting star?"

Kael'thas laughed. "Have I ever wondered? Have I ever dreamed? Jaina, you are so funny! Random as your question is, there was never any doubt in my mind I was not a shooting star! I can only imagine the kind of legacy I'll leave behind when I lead my people into Outland and save them from their drug-induced damnation! Oh, Light bless you, Muradin." He remarked to the dwarf when he sneezed and coughed into his hand.

Jaina nodded. "That's a shame, but maybe it's not too late to change your mind."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because if you don't let go in the next two seconds, I'm going to make you reach for the stars." She spun on him and all but thrust the staff in his face. He was taken aback by the tranquil, barely restrained fury marring her pretty blue eyes. "Unless you want to find out right now."

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I do not."

"I do!" piped Sylvanas, hands cupped over mouth. "Come on, Proudmoore, give in to your hatred!"

Jaina redirected her glare over to the Banshee Queen. "On second thought, maybe I can practice on you, Sylvanas. For as long as I've been in the Nexus, no one really goes out of their way to set you straight—what with your sour attitude towards everyone, your blatant disregard for Hero League regulations, and hurting poor Nova in the most bullying ways possible! Well no more Miss Nice Girl! At least for tonight! This is the Lunar Festival, and I feel like I need to be a right old bitch in order to get a heaping helping of catharsis! I oughta knock your head off those shoulders!" She shrugged. "I mean, you're undead so it should be easier to do than cracking a few bones in Kael'thas' neck and paralyzing him, I suppose."

Sylvanas clapped. "That's more like it! That's the Jaina Proudmoore I know! Go on, girl. Unleash that inner bitch for all the world to see! This place could afford to use more backbone."

"Oh, I will! I can show you I can be a bad girl! But wait just a little bit longer; I have to finish smacking Arthas first."

Everyone groaned and spoke all at once.

"Jus' smack 'im good and let's get a move on! There's a line back here!" said Muradin, bashing axe and hammer together.

"I grow tired of waiting!" said Illidan. "Make your move and be done with it!"

"We don't want to hear your pretentious monologues anymore!" said Anub'arak, and raised both pincers with a frustrated, insectile roar.

Kael'thas rolled his eyes. "Jaina, for the love of Light, I cannot be here all night! I feel as though my feet are standing on pins and needles!"

"You've smacked him plenty of times in the bedroom!" said Sylvanas. "How much more do you have to do before you make him your bitch?"

Jaina gasped, cheeks burning red. "Y-You…!"

A gunshot rang out and something sharp cracked, and all argument and complaining ceased. Jaina turned around and yelped at the sight of Arthas on the ground, bindings undone, arms thrown forward as though he was bowing in supplication before her. A thin trail of smoke exuded from the back of his helmeted head.

She raised her eyes, and front and center was Nova, lowering the sniper rifle to her side. Drinking in their reactions, ranging from stunned to alarm to seeping neutrality, she sniffed dismissively. "You guys are so loud! A girl can't have her share of dango in peace! So what do you know, I got curious and had to see for myself what all the ruckus was about." She looked down at the rapidly degrading corpse at her feet. "Can't say I'm surprised. You weren't going to get anything done just standing around, so I figured I do you all a favor. See, now you can go about doing whatever you were doing earlier."

She sighed at Jaina readjusting her grip on the staff, so that its flower-shaped head was pointed at her. "Okay, really? This is what it comes down to?"

"I put good money in towards my sponsored charity to be first in line," said Jaina. "Something's got to give. And I was only just warming up."

Nova scoffed. "Puh-lease! That is so full of sh—"

"She stole our kill!" Anub'arak cried, wings beating a rapid machine gun noise. "OUR KILL!"

"All for donating our wasted gold to charity by stomping Nova to paste?" Illidan asked the assembled line, drawing his warglaives from their sleeves.

"'S long as she puts up a good fight!" said Muradin.

"I'm only here because I lost a bet," said Thrall, who was behind Anub'arak, raising his voice above the hubbub. "I don't think this is fair to her—"

"I've been standing in line for over fifteen minutes!" said Uther, behind Thrall. "I shouldn't have had to wait! Unlike the rest of you, I at least had the gumption to die!"

"I'm not even going to bother," Sylvanas said, shrugging. "In fact, I'm not even angry. You took care of him for me; that's all that counts. You'd best run along now. Presumably quickly, if you value your life."

"GET HER!" said Jaina, and made a wild, flamboyant, upward jab with her arm. The ground rocked hard, fast, as though someone shook it for all its worth to pry something free—and it did. Nova jumped back when the onrush of water sprang between the spider web cracks and molded into the looming, hunchbacked shape of the water elemental. She was tickled pink to see it wearing a long, blue metal mask in the shape and appearance of a Chinese dragon, and with matching vambraces above its claw-like hands.

"Aw, that's cute," said Nova, while taking small, tentative steps away from the approaching creature. "You dress it up for the holidays, too. Hey, where can I get a mask like that in my size?"

"IN HELL!"

Nova spread her arms to the side, laughing. "We already are! Although I'd prefer somewhere that's a bit more COSMOPOLITAN!" She ducked under from the blast of water that passed right where she had stood. Then she was up and running, swearing and fumbling for the stealth protocol as Jaina lead her elemental and the line of Heroes in a calamitous, raucous charge after her. Tourists screamed and dived for cover, some of which knocked loose the support struts on the tents and sent them and their assorted tables and displays crashing to the ground. Shop owners and proprietors emerged from the fabrics and yelled at their retreating backs, shook their fists, and even flipped them the bird.

Thrall came to stand beside Sylvanas. He scratched the back of his neck. "You know, when Chen said this was a time to 'settle our differences and grievances', I didn't imagine the Board would resort to, um, this."

"Thrall, you've been here a year…and you're just now realizing this? Come on now. It's one of the few times where unsanctioned fighting is allowed. What did you think was going to happen?"

He sighed wearily. "I had thought as much, given how the world…well, with the way it is, how it brings out the, uh, best in people. It's almost…like a virus amplified tenfold."

Sylvanas hummed agreement.

"You're not going to join them?" he asked her, and at the arched brow she gave him, added, "Nova deprived you your opportunity at getting, er, stress relief."

Sylvanas waved the statement off. "As I've said, there's no point in being angry when she took matters into her own hands. Arthas will come back, anyway. I have…however long I am here in the Nexus to mete out his punishment." She folded her arms over her chest. "Nova will be fine. Maybe. Illidan loves to hunt a lot."

Thrall gave her a curious look. "Interesting. Normally you're so abrasive toward Nova and would kill her over the slightest thing." The corners of his lips quirked up in a smile. "Did she finally get through to that hard, cold exterior?"

"Of course not!" she said, and put her back to him. "You know how she is! I just pity her, that's all! Someone has to rein in that ball of insanity! Don't be such a fanboy! What…What will people think when they look at your resume? Can you imagine seeing 'fanboy' next to 'Warchief of the Horde' and 'leader of the Earthen Ring' in your employment history?" She threw down her arms in a huff and shook her head, clucking her tongue. "Good Darkness, you are better than that!"

Thrall laughed. "Whatever you say, Sylvanas. Whatever you say."