Trident in hand, Se'jash slowly swam deeper through the dark, moonlit sea off the coast of his tribe's small island chain. His serpentine hind section pushed his large, brawny body forward at a medium pace, and his fins cut through the salty water like a sharpened knife. The cold of the far depths made him feel quite at home, and he inhaled the briny liquid with deep, peaceful breaths through his gills.

But while he liked to swim for the pleasure of it most times, he was looking for one thing as well. Something he dubbed important. That night elf's injury would take far too long to heal if he were to just let it be, and according to what he heard from the members of the tribe that had been keeping an eye on her, she was refusing to be tended to by healing magics. Se'jash needed something that would mend her properly, but also have it be of a more... 'natural' flavor.

Continuing on, many sights greeted his roving, predatory eyes as he submerged himself deeper into the ocean's depths. He passed by many tropical fish and paddle-tailed sea snakes, forests of dark green kelp that one could simply get lost in, natural coral formations displaying colors of pure, untouched beauty, and a variety of sea creatures that watched the naga with wary eyes. The creatures, mostly intelligent ocean hunters, the occasional gilgoblin, and a great many deep sea murlocs, all gave their own cautious and fearful looks at Se'jash as he swam past with his equally-intimidating weapon, before backing away or swimming off to hide from his searching gaze if he grew close.

As the naga lord went down further into the ocean's pressurized bowels, unperturbed in the slightest by the feeling that would instantly crush the unadapted, the moonlight began to become blotted out from the darkness below. It was there he finally found what he was looking for. Sitting near the edge of an undersea cliff, growing out of the side of the rock was a small cluster of plants bearing a similar-looking, but greatly smaller appearance to that of normal seaweed. Their leaves were of a vivid crimson color, and were sitting on the end of thin stalks. Swimming up to it, he touched the long, leafy parts of the plant, making sure from the moist feeling that he had found the right vegetation. Tearing out just a handful of the plant's leaves and stalks, he turned his body around and began the long swim back to his tribe's territory.


Caelwen drifted in-and-out of sleep for most of the indeterminable time of day, as all that took up her perspective was a near-lightless cave. Her head felt rather hot from what she was willing to bet was a developing flu or fever brought upon her by the cold and dank conditions she was in, but it was nothing she couldn't ignore and hope would pass on. Her mind became fully awake and aware though, as the sound of something approaching her prison brought her eyes to the door. And there a familiar (or as much as it could be) shape stood.

"Greetings," Se'jash spoke, entering and closing the door behind him.

"Hello," she halfheartedly returned, before her eyes widened at the sight of the red plants he had clutched in one of his large claws. "What are those you have in your hand?" she asked next, a rightfully wary suspicion in her volume.

"It is a rare weed that grows near the bottom of the ocean in these parts. They exude a substance that heals wounds in a fantastically short amount of time," he replied, his voice sounding quite friendly as he slithered by her side and lowered his body into a coil. Caelwen felt too sore to move herself, and so tried her best to tolerate just being that close to his presence. Looking to the bloodstained bandages attached to her lower side, Se'jash reached his free claw to it, when Caelwen shot her hand at his, stopping it.

"No," she mumbled, glaring at him. "I'll heal on my own if you give me time."

"Even without the threat of infection, that will take too long for my tastes," he disagreed. "And besides, these are helpful. They will hurt when I apply them, but when I take them off, I promise you that you will feel no more pain in that area."

Caelwen looked completely unconvinced. "There is a saying among my kind that tells of the many reasons why one should never trust the words of a naga," she rebutted, her fierce grip fighting against his own in a war of attrition. "Shall I list them off for you?"

"I have no reason to lie to you," Se'jash replied, his deep voice sounding humorless and sincere. "I implore you to listen to me, Caelwen."

Hearing him utter her name appeared to cause her to relent slightly. With a visage of reluctance, she finally did as he said and took her hands off of his arm. Now free to do as he wanted, Se'jash began to slowly, but carefully peel back the bandages with his claws. Caelwen looked all around the cell for something to focus her attention on until he finished the deed, but as she looked back to him when she found nothing, she saw there seemed to be a glint - just a glint - of caution and care shining in his eyes that caught her off guard. As the last of the bandages were removed, revealing the large and still-festering wound, Caelwen looked to it once before turning her face away from the nauseating sight.

Muffling a growl, Caelwen winced back and ground her teeth together as the first weed was suddenly placed over the open injury. It was a sensation that felt as hot as lava, yet frigid like ice. One of her hands curled into a tight ball, the other shot toward Se'jash's arm in reaction. She began to dig her fingers into his tough and rubbery flesh until red blood began to drip out over his green scales. The naga didn't even seem fazed by it.

"I've placed the last one over your wound. The pain will subside momentarily," he told her after what felt like an eternity, when in reality it was less than two minutes.

"Are you... sure about that?" she grunted through her closed teeth as her hand retracted from him, one of her eyes still shut in agony as the other glared at the creature angrily like a burning coal.

"I am," he confidently responded. Several minutes soon passed, and while her writhing and cries began to stop as the tortuous feelings started to leave her, drained her of her stamina and left her exhausted beyond measure, Caelwen eventually fell into the awaiting and tantalizing arms of sleep.


Her eyes opening, Caelwen awoke a while later. To her relief, the pain in her midsection had gone numb, but her head still hurt with that same fiery headache. Mumbling something to herself as she brushed a heavy hand over her forehead, she looked around and almost jumped as she realized a large, green shape had been looming next to her the entire time.

Despite his rigid stillness, Se'jash was still very much awake, and his eyes were focused on her like a pair of glassy gemstones, as though examining her. After finishing her own round of staring in his direction, Caelwen looked to the red weeds wrapped over her abdomen.

"H-how much longer?" she asked him, having decided to end the silence that sat over the pair like a noxious cloud. Se'jash reverberated a long hum as he calculated the time.

"A short while," he bluntly answered. Sighing, Caelwen's head bumped against the coral wall she sat beside and she bit her lip. Having become intrigued by his prisoner immensely, Se'jash decided to ask her something he formulated in his mind while she had slept.

"I am curious," he suddenly began, looking to her. "The only things I know about you are your name and skill in battle. What else is there that you are willing to share about yourself?" Caelwen didn't see the harm in responding to a question such as this, and willingly did so.

"I serve as a Sentinel, and my life is indifferent to any of theirs," she started, until her bland expression started to change. "But... I suppose there are some things that mark me as different."

"Do tell," he said. Whether it was the sheer politeness in the naga's tone, or perhaps the fact she had not spoken to anyone she knew for some time and longed for such company, Caelwen began to share her tale.

"Well, I got captured by naga for starters," she spoke with a brief, hopeless laugh, her face becoming grimmer soon after. "But it was before all this when my life changed. My parents were just simple merchants living in Darkshore, and as a young girl, I thought my path in life would be no different. All that changed when they were both killed by a satyr and some foul human cultists serving under it after a raid on my village."

Se'jash listened to what she spoke with a respectful nod of his head, and when the night elf brought up the fate of her parents, he mumbled understandingly.

She went on. "I grew up and devoted myself to the cause of the Sentinels. It was a few years after I joined them that I found out that same satyr was still alive, and still living in Darkshore. Since he didn't seem to be that much more than a trivial threat, and also since nobody could find the time or energy to go after him, I took matters into my own hands. I... decided to go out on my own and find him. I successfully did so, and I slayed him in his own den."

It was here that Se'jash decided to say a question he had, licking his lips with his long tongue before doing so as he imagined the kill she made. "How did you feel when you finished off the satyr, Caelwen?"

"I felt... a lot of things," came her still voice. "As I separated his head from his shoulders, it felt like a... rush of emotion erupted in my mind and through every vein of my body. Rage, hatred-"

"Joy?"

Caelwen looked at him as he asked the question. "What?"

"Did you feel joy when you took his life?" he spoke again, his eyes locked on hers. "Did you take pleasure in ending his miserable existence upon this world? Did you feel pure and blissful satisfaction knowing you personally avenged your parents' deaths?"

Caelwen bit her lip again as her glowing gray eyes looked away from the naga, before her head lowered and she murmured something. "Yes, I did."

Se'jash couldn't help but smile to himself as he heard her answer. "You sound sorrowful Caelwen, yet you should not be. Revenge is something that one should never regret performing. It is something one must savor when it comes to its wondrous fulfillment." His fists were clenched together in memory of the times he extracted his own acts of vengeance against despised and pretentious rivals. "That sense of lowness once it ends is only a natural feeling. After all, all good things must eventually come to end, if it cannot be helped."

Unhappy with herself for replying to his original query, Caelwen went quiet. Seeing her reaction, Se'jash ran a hand through his beard of tendrils before placing a claw atop the bruise on his head, feeling the vibrantly sore sensation that came with it. "Now, I suppose it is fair to regale to you my origins now," he suddenly spoke.

The night elf's head arose as she heard what the naga said through her pointed ears, and one of her long brows curled downward in confusion. Se'jash began to speak, looking to the open top of the cell as he recollected his past; as though his eyes could peer through the cavern's ceiling and gaze into the night sky. "My sister Vesh'ari and I were born as part of the second-generation naga. We were raised by our tribe into adulthood, upon which the two of us set out and created this tribe, the Depthweaver clan, together. Her power in the field of sorcery and my unrivaled skill in battle allowed the fledgling minnows who accompanied us to become great warriors and tidepriestesses in their own right."

Caelwen smirked sardonically at his enthusiasm to tell his life story, happy that the previous one she had shared was being replaced. "That sounds like quite a challenging feat to accomplish."

He nodded in agreement with her assessment, before a sharp hiss escaped his closed jaw. "Most naga that try to accomplish what we performed fail miserably, but we managed and grew only stronger from whatever hardships we faced. The saddest thing is, we seem to only live to hone our skills in these more recent years. Our archipelago far too remote to receive unwelcome interlopers, save for the occasional passing ship that grows too close, or the random skirmish our tribe has with rivals envious of our territory. That is why we have set up our gladiatorial arena. It curbs our need to sink our teeth into the warm flesh of others."

"And that is how I presume we met?" she asked him.

"In other words... yes." He exhaled a quick, deep breath of air through his nostrils, a small smile over his face. "But now, I believe it is time to remove those weeds from your wound. May I...?"

Willingly giving him space to work, Caelwen watched as Se'jash placed his hands onto the red plants, and with gentleness unbefitting of his appearance, he slowly extracted the weeds. Unable to pull her eyes away from whatever the outcome of her injury was, to Caelwen's visible surprise, the wound looked almost fully healed. All that remained of the gash before was some old blood that had been sitting there for some time, and a long, but minor line of indented skin covering her purple flesh, and that was something that would quickly heal on its own.

"Well, it is done," came Se'jash's voice. Caelwen's amazed face left her treated injury, and she looked to the naga, who had stealthily left her side and was now standing in the doorway of the cell with the spent red weeds in one of his claws. "I hope to see you soon again. I will bring you some food when the morning comes, and when that time arrives, perhaps... we may discuss other things before our final battle comes for us?"

"Perhaps..." she said back, trailing off. Showing the elf a toothy, but strangely good-natured grin, Se'jash nodded to her and closed the prison door behind her before he left.