Title: For What Yet May Come
Description: "In light of recent changes to the Nexus League, Sylvanas and Nova spend a moment together alone on New Year's Eve."
Notes1: So. Been a while, yeah? I don't really want to blog about the hold-up, other than (A) when it's time to go to work, I focus on work, and I'm eyeing online courses again for February; (B) I worked on other stories, mainly WoW fics; (C) I've been developing an original novel on the side that my friend Aphotica has been encouraging me to put out there, and (D) the financial situation at home has gotten steadily worse and it's looking like I may have to move (although I would prefer that; too much bad blood and tribalism going on). Another reason is...all the negativity that's been hanging over Blizzard's head since the recent BlizzCon, and it's why I have yet to get back into HotS, despite the fact I didn't invest so eagerly into both HGC and Dorm (but I always watched Rich from MVP Black/GenG; he's my favorite of the streamers, before he moved onto LoL). And lastly, I had hesitated to write more for this for a while was (and it's a really silly reason) out of a fear that no one would want to read a Sylvanas story from me anymore because I still like her regardless of the War of Thorns event in BfA (which is why I settled for her over Saurfang in 8.1, both out of seeing the story unfold and spiting those against her). Thankfully, the troll reviews I've accrued have been contained - so far - in my fics regarding the Night Warrior scenario and the high elf/blood elf debacle (I have yet to get an answer as to what Alliance high elves should be called, since Ion thinks playable blood elves are high elves...but he's technically both right and wrong), but I'm expecting things to worsen once 8.2 goes live, in which Sylvanas starts taking a more active role.

So I wanted to make it up to everyone for my absence. I had at least five other chapters written - one of which was "The Stables Incident". But then I decided that Chapter 50 - the chronological chapter - was going to be massive and that it'd be best reserved for - most likely - a separate story in the future where it can be longer and not constrained to novella-lite word lengths that Chapter 44 endured. I was also of the mind to make each Season to be 50-51 chapters long, so I'm going to save "The Stables Incident" for next chapter and go from there.

Obviously this was inspired by the sudden cancellation of the HotS e-sports...although, if you were to really ask me what I think about the gaming industry as a whole, I'd tell you that there we're all devils here.

"Do you think things will be better next year?"

Sylvanas hummed and looked down at Nova, ears twitching, bored yet curiously feline. "I think what you meant was, can it get any worse than the year before."

Nova blinked. There were snowflakes dotting her lashes. "Well. There's that, too. But you know how things have been so far. People are worried. Some of them even lost their livelihood."

Ah, yes. The cutbacks on some of the leagues. There had been a lot of fighting going on in the Outreaches that were just now making public airwaves—a three-way war between the Realm Knights, the Shadowlands, and all the Heroes that answered (or refused to, but with the way Nova was looking at her Sylvanas tampered down the vicious glee rising from her gut) the call of the houseborn who ran from one corner of the Nexus to the other. Nervously at first, and then headless and shitting themselves when it was announced that the stock market opened at its lowest, the first time in over two hundred years. There were other, smaller factions poking their heads where they shouldn't be, eyeing empty seats, prosperous colonies, Shadowskirts and Whitemarches that were left untouched by the maintenance crews that had once been stationed in King's Crest.

When everything had finally settled down and the scope of the devastation clear, the Noble Houses held a meeting.

Something had to be done, they said. Repairs would have to be made. Money would have to be funneled there.

But where?

Costs would have to be cut from other business sectors across the Nexus. People would have to be let go and, while they searched for new blood, the shareholders and investors would step in to oversee the restructuring and fight to keep all the stocks in the major industries afloat.

The Nexus League was to be downsized for the foreseeable future, came the statement from the Board—at the very least, they stressed, until the bull market ended and all the boys and girls across the stars were back home. Times were changing, and everyone, as hard as it was, would have to change with it. The sooner the better, they recommended.

It didn't take Sylvanas very long to decide that all the professional teams, some of which consisted of young, intuitive, mechanically-inclined college students, being out of a job with no warning whatsoever suffered the most.

And right before the holidays, she couldn't help but think. You could've at least said so sooner so they had time. She recalled, suddenly, of Orphea expressing not so subtly how it seemed as though her choosing to get involved in the Hero League to restore the honor of Raven Court and recuperating the economic destruction left in her father's wake was karmic retribution from beyond the Storm.

Sylvanas had told her to Quit bitching and stop acting like an ass-kissing martyr. None of this is your fault. Hike up those big girl britches and keep 'em on, unless you prefer leading your people with 'em around your ankles.

Now, as Sylvanas looked at Nova and stood her ground even as the girl stepped into her personal space, she said, "They'll find a way...somehow. There are other opportunities to be had outside the Storm. Surely you've heard of Runeterra? The Seven Planes?" She shrugged. "Fortnite?"

"Yeah, I know them all," said Nova. "But for some, this is their only home. Not everyone can afford to make the trip to cross the Storm."

"As our druidic friends are so fond of spouting, life will find a way. Even when the Hero League is no more, the Nexus will continue to endure. Money makes the world go round no matter what universe you're in. That's just nature. Unless, well, you're enlightened or, I dunno, a Buddhist."

"Mmm. I suppose you're right. Maybe things will get better after all. It's up to us to decide what happens from here on out." Nova took another step forward, until their chests were nearly touching. Sylvanas stood a few inches over her. She cocked her head slightly. Her ears relaxed.

The girl's face was positively flushed. It wasn't just from the cold. "I like that. But...aren't you worried? We won't be making as much money as we used to."

Sylvanas sighed softly. "Why do you always ask me this? You know how stupid people are. My carpentry degree has to be useful for something, otherwise how else would I be spending the rest of my days here in eternity?"

Nova laughed. "I know. I feel the same way with mechanical engineering." She tipped her head up, looked over Sylvanas's shoulder. "It's almost midnight. Are you doing any resolutions this year? Do you have any?"

"Just the usual: try to stay normal, give everyone grief, and keep making money." Sylvanas arched a brow. "You?"

"Hmm, the same, I guess. Minus the trouble, you know."

"Oh? You don't want to be a part of my grand schemes? My illustrious designs to topple the big, mean government and free the people of their capitalist shackles? You don't wish to be...free?"

"Aren't I already?"

Sylvanas hummed, nodding. "Of course. But the day will come, one way or another. If you have any nonce of care at all, you will stay with me until the very end. You...and all the others."

"As long as I can find a way to preserve the memories of my time here in the Nexus, it'll never feel like you left me at all."

"That's one way to put it," Sylvanas snorted. But she knew, both of them knew, there was no guarantee their experiences would be erased when the time came for them to return to where they had originated and uphold the status quo. There wasn't even a certainty that someday, somewhere in the far-flung future, they would be called upon again when the Nexus was in economic turmoil or needed to bolster morale and production in a period of war and petty politics. How typical it was; no matter what universe they were in, there were some aspects of nature that would just never change, even if the means to counter them were enforced and, ultimately, temporary.

But this wasn't the time to voice any of that. Tonight would mark the night of a new year—another year, really. Another day, another dollar. The world would continue to turn, the consumerists would continue to pay out of pocket, and the transition would continue to persist.

Sylvanas didn't care. She didn't care for any of that, and neither did Nova.

She stared down into the girl's face. It was tilted upward, expecting. Around her neck was a scarf, speckled with silvery glitter, red and green with little Christmas trees and reindeer in white. It felt soft beneath her fingertips. The skin of the underside of her neck—numbed to her touch, but with just the barest hint of warmth as she raised it to meet her gaze.

Sylvanas stared. Then she closed her eyes—

Click! Flash!

"Yrel!"

"Light above! I thought it was off!"

Sylvanas's ears flexed back against her skull. Her upper lip brushed up against her gums. In front of her, Nova gaped and turned a deeper shade of red.

The Banshee Queen turned toward the voices. Jaina and Yrel, bundled up in winter coats, fumbled with a cell phone in Yrel's hands.

"How do I turn it off again?!" the draenei squeaked. The phone jumped up and down in her gloves, threatening to spill onto the snow at any second.

"You see that button there?" Jaina said, leaning into her space and pointing. "The little thunderbolt? You click on that twice—twice, Yrel, you have it on Auto now! Press it again and—oh no." She stopped.

"Oh no? Oh no? What's 'oh no'? What did I do?! Jaina! Jaina, please tell me—" Yrel stopped and stared, agape. The phone was still now—and still pointed at Sylvanas and Nova. "Oh," she said.

"Oh," Nova cheeped, and buried her face deeper into her scarf.

"Um. Uh." Swallow. "Hello," said Yrel. "Happy New Year, Miss Nova, Miss Sylvanas."

"Happy New Year," Sylvanas growled. "What are you taking a picture of, Yrel?"

Yrel stared. Her eyes were wide, white, in a face pale as cheese. "...The plaza," she said, after a moment.

"The plaza," said Sylvanas.

"Y-Yes. The. The clock tower. I wanted to capture it. Right in the middle. You know. With the, uh, the snow falling. The lights and the ball drop, too. I...I thought it would make a nice post to upload on, um. Uh. Jaina, what was it called again? Instagram?"

"Constagram," Jaina said a little too quickly.

"Constagram?"

"Constagram."

"Yes! Constagram. I was going to post it on Constagram."

Sylvanas nodded. "That's nice. No selfie?"

"N-No. I already took a selfie. Several. Jaina was in them. Right, Jaina?"

"Yes," said Jaina.

"What a lovely pair of friends you are," said Sylvanas. "I bet you get a lot of likes—kudos—toots—whatever—on Constagram, right, Yrel?"

"I do. I like to share what I see with all the world. The beauty! The glamour! The untouched glory of nature! Mankind's potential and all the wonders it would inspire!"

"That's good. That's good. Bet you get a lot of comments on your horns, too, don't you." Sylvanas gestured at them. The glow in her eyes deepened. "Don't you."

Yrel trembled. She shrank back—or doubled over, Sylvanas couldn't be assed to care—clutching her phone in a grip not even death could pry. "...I just thought you two looked so c-cute! It was a once in a lifetime moment to capture eternity in a single picture! I didn't want to miss it! Jaina didn't want to miss it!"

Jaina started as if someone punted her right between the legs. "I-I was just passing by—"

"You were the one that stopped me on our way to the pastry stalls! You said you couldn't believe what you were seeing, and that's when I got the idea—"

"Ahhhhh. Ding ding ding, we have a winner!" Sylvanas said, and clapped halfheartedly. "So. Proudmoore. It was your idea all along. You just can't keep that big honker of a nose out of things, can you?"

"My nose isn't that big!"

"Such a devious creature. I guess this was what you meant when you said you wanted to study."

"No I didn't!" Jaina exclaimed, fists clenched, face burning. "I-I-I don't do that at all!"

"No. Of course you don't. And Yrel," she said to the draenei woman, "if I so much as hear a little, barely coherent peep about that post going anywhere beyond the confines of your photo gallery, I'll—"

"Merry Christmas!" a high-pitched voice blared, and there was the sound of magical wings flapping in her ears. Damn near on top of her, too, if Nova's yelp was anything to go by. Sylvanas whirled around only to flinch back at Brightwing's paws waving up and down right in her face. "Happy New Year! Hanukkah! Kwanzaa! Yom Kippur! Boxing Day!" Then the faerie dragon grinned. "Now...kiss! Make happy!"

"We weren't going to...and we weren't going to 'make happy', either! Get your mind outta the gutter!"

"But Brightwing have mistletoe! Look!" She held it for everyone to see.

Sylvanas balked. "Brightwing, that's a mangled dryer sheet. With Christmas trees and ornaments painted on them in oil pastels."

"It smells nice, though," Nova spoke up, withdrawing her face from the scarf. She sniffed. "Oh, it's clean linen and white lily."

Sylvanas glared at Brightwing. "You little bastard—"

"Countdown starts in five minutes! Will Banshee Queen and girlfriend watch?"

"Not really. And for the love of Darkness, Nova's not my—"

"Hurray! Let's go, let's go! Come on, friends! Brightwing want to celebrate! Dance! Laugh! Hold hands!" Then Brightwing flew above them in a circle, doing loop-de-loops and barrel rolls in a wide, loping circuit; and her laughter trailed high and gay as she shot past Sylvanas and Nova toward the night-life festivities and the bright lights leading the way to the center of the Shire-on-the-Rocks's plaza.

Sylvanas threw her hands up. "Well, what else is there left to do?"

Nova's eyes darted back and forth, looking anywhere but at Sylvanas. "We could take a walk around the fountain."

"Or get food!" said Yrel. "Play games! Drink mead! Take pictures!"

"And not put them on Constagram," Jaina added in, at the same time she gave Yrel a firm slap on her back. "Trust us on this."

Sylvanas scoffed and raised a shoulder in a half-shrug. "Yeah, whatever. Just stay out of our way. Preferably in the back, like the good little extras you are."

Jaina flinched. "E-Extra?! Now listen here, Sylvanas—!"

"Wait for us!" Yrel called. "Come, Jaina! If we go with them, we might just get more than just pastries!" She gasped. "We might even get cinnamon buns, fresh out of the ovens! With the raspberry glaze! Oh, what are we waiting for, Jaina? Let's go!" She grasped the mage by the wrist and pulled her into a jog.

It was enough to snap her out of her reverie. "Oh. W-Well, I do hope there's sourdough…."

"What a bunch of morons," Sylvanas groused, stretching her arms up over her head. "Not even 37,000 yet and already I ring in the new year with a serious case of the stupid. No wonder people are so nosy; they take one look at Proudmoore with her face in a book and suddenly become inspired to become the newest poster child. Ugh."

Nova stayed silent, letting Sylvanas rant into a sort of distant, sulking catharsis; it was a very Sylvanas-like thing for her to do, after all, and wasn't for everyone. Then she picked her head up and gave Sylvanas a small, shy smile. "I wouldn't have minded," she said. "You know, if everyone saw it."

Sylvanas looked at her. "Eh? But we—I wasn't—"

"How many times are you going to keep saying that? Honestly, Sylvanas, there are people that are dense as a brick. And then there's you. You're your own special category."

"What-" And before she could answer, Nova reached over, took her hand in hers, and slotted their fingers together. She stared at them, then up at Nova, flabbergasted.

Nova swung their arms back and forth in high, exaggerated swings. "You like it," she said.

"You mean, I like being away from dumbasses."

"You like it. Takes one half of crazy to fancy another, y'know."

"'M not crazy," Sylvanas grumbled. "I'm normal."

Nova giggled. "If you say so."

Sylvanas grumbled some more. But she didn't let go. Her grip was soft yet firm.