One-sided farewells and ill thoughts
The day passed much as it did the day before. The inn grew warmer as the air outside turned cold. Laughter and song spread through the main hall, and dwarves drank competitively in order to settle their scores from the night before while some humans dared to loosen up. Vingor could appreciate their behaviour more than he had when he first met a human. Sometimes their actions did not make sense, and often lacked the same level of maturity which elves had due to centuries of growth. But even so, they still possessed their own logic. No matter how simplistic or unreasonable it would seem. He spoke only briefly with Angelina Soluna, she insisted that he did not address her as a captain at shore, before he retreated to his chamber. He had what supplies he would need for the journey, as the crow fly, at least. The elf's side did not hurt as much as it had done the day before, but it still stung quite a bit. As such, a night's rest would do him well before he would set off towards Gilneas. However, he felt restless. It was as if he had lingered in Stormwind for far too long. It was a bad feeling which kept the druid from settling down for the night. No more nightmares, he almost pleaded before sleep finally came upon him.
The faces of men and women haunted his dreams. They starved. The land was shattered, dry and barren. Loud voices called out with feverish desperation. Some of them were pleading for aid, while others were railing their anger against those who refused to help them. There was a rouse, loud noises drummed and a wall fell. Humans stormed towards each other and men died by another's blade. In a corner was a bruised girl, who bled from the corner of her mouth. The colour of her eyes were that of hazel, but they seemed weary and forlorn. She fled the scene on feeble feet and traversed the barren scenery in a foolish manner. Her lips cracked and shrivelled due to the dry climate, before she stumbled into a river bed and crawled forward. There, on her hands and knees, she drank what she could before the young girl finally noticed the lush scenery before her. Darkness and light blurred together as time passed, and Vingor woke with a dry throat and in cold sweat. He sought the window with his eyes, but dawn had yet to come. Cursed child.
The cold air still loomed above the city when the druid sneaked downstairs, while carrying his supplies in a leather pack upon his shoulder. The elf made no sound, for so silent were his footsteps compared to those of a human. The hall was empty, so he left a coin of gratitude behind at the bar before he disappeared into the smog of the Dwarven District. There was no one outside, not even vermin, so the city felt empty. Vingor closed his eyes for a moment and calmed his senses. He felt the cold air flow against his skin and spread his arms wide. The druid morphed into a large storm crow. Dark and grey feathers rustled softly before it took off from the square and climbed above the vast city. Frightened eyes hid behind a corner, as they glanced towards the sky. The fear turned into wonder, and the child that had not dared to make her presence known to the elf stepped onto the very spot the druid had taken off from. From there she watched the terrifying bird trek north, beyond the great wall of the city. She picked up a feather and touched it gently. It was soft and easily the length of her lower arm. The child placed it against her cheek and whispered a silent "thank you", as the rain began to fall from the grey skies above.
Sölvi's world was changed, and not for the better, Auberdine was no more, in the wake of the disaster that had struck Kalimdor. Her home town was a pile of broken wood and twisted roads that had once been paved with stone. It was a ruin along a shattered coastline. Deathwing had torn Kalimdor apart when he returned to the world. Feeble attempts had been made to find survivors, for most of them were long gone, who were taken by the upset sea. That same fate was the one her sister had suffered, or so the rumours would have it. Yet, she felt a need for closure. They said that it was hopeless, that she would have to accept her sister's passing without any lingering hope, for the sea was vast and terrible, and quite deep as well. Sölvi could not accept those words. Lyraniel had always been her closest of kin. Their parents had passed away, and for the longest time it had been only the two of them. Lyraniel had taught Sölvi what little she could, but was forced to take her mother's place as one of the Sentinels. However, after a long time apart from each other Lyraniel had finally been able to return to Auberdine. Sölvi had longed for her sister greatly, for the two of them to be a family once more. But it was not to be, for when her sister returned she had been distant and obsessed.
She had fawned over a male. Sölvi was never able to accept him. He was branded Shadowrunner, even though his hair was as pale as snow, and there was few who ever recognised his presence in Auberdine. The exception had been Lyraniel. To her, however, the male reeked of misfortune and danger. As such, she shied away from him. The druid, for she knew that much about him from the whispers among others, had not even attempted to approach her for her favour regarding his relationship with Lyraniel. Where was that male now? No where. She had not heard a single word from the druid since before the calamity struck. Her home was in tatters, and her sister was most likely cold and lifeless, yet he was no where to be seen. Curse you, Shadowrunner. Curse you, and everything you stand for. The young elf's feeble heart barely kept her alive, solely by fuming her own frustration towards him. She wanted this male that they called Shadowrunner to suffer as she did, as payment for the dishonour he had shown towards her sister.
Such were the thoughts of the young elf who entered the perilous ruins that had once been Auberdine. Dead wood cracked beneath her feet, as she searched between scattered planks of wood and broken branches from fallen trees. Sölvi had been searching in that very manner for a couple of days. Deep down, inside of her, she came to terms with her sister's death but she could not find any rest in that knowledge. Hence, she had searched ever since. Perhaps she still harboured some minuscule flicker of hope, or perhaps she simply needed to do something. The girl could not quite place her thoughts about it, but she felt a little less empty while she searched through the debris. She would spend every passing moment in a frantic search, but for the past few days she had been unable to find a single clue about Lyraniel. It was only then, when the elf sat amidst the ruins and cried for the umpteenth time that she noticed the little isle just off the shore. A sense of sorrow and misfortune came upon the girl, and frightened by what her intuition warned her about she sought to prove it wrong. In a desperate measure, she slipped into the eerily calm water and swam for the rock in the distance.
By the time she was there, her limbs shook and quivered. Sölvi froze horribly, but still clawed her way onto the little island. It was tangled in seaweed, as if the rock had once laid beneath the waves. There, she found what she had been searching for, as the mist parted in front of her eyes; her sister's face was pale and had a clear hint of the unworldly, muddy colour which belonged to the seaweed. Sölvi's knees caved in beneath her and she clawed into the tangled weed which held her kin's body captured in the afterlife. The wild shriek that tore away at her own throat was that of a wild animal in all its rage and sorrow. She cupped her sister's cheek; it was as cold as a damp rock. Lifeless. The young creature shed her tears and gritted her teeth, in between desperate attempts to speak with the lifeless corpse of her own sibling. Sölvi wanted to take her sister home, but she was not strong enough to drag the dead weight of Lyraniel back to shore, so she placed her own pendant with Lyraniel. The leaf that was made of the purest silver would keep Lyraniel's pendant company even when her flesh was gone. Sölvi was all alone, but she swore upon her sister's deathbed that she would find the male who had shamed Lyraniel's honour and repay the misfortune tenfold.