BEYOND THE SETTING SUN

A Warcraft fanfic by Alfbie

Disclaimer: Based off the characters and events of the Warcraft universe, copywrite by Blizzard Entertainment and alliliates. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter Two – Whirlwind

Written in Katlayna's Point of View

I never knew weddings could be so dirty, disgusted at the pile of dishes in my arms as I stepped into the kitchen. Its crowdedness took me aback--I never knew so many people could fit and work into such a small space. Various types of food had been strewn out on every table, at least three people at each table working diligently to blend these ingredients into mouthwatering dishes. Each station supported a different food group--vegetables covered one table, knives flashing across its surface as cooks prepped them. Another table sported stacks of saucers, several cooks blending liquids together into delectable flavors. An enchantment controlled many of their spoons, stirring on their own to free up time for the workers. A table existed for meat, a table for pastries, and so-on. Cooks bustled back and forth from the fire, removing and adding cauldrons of soup and sauces, loading meat onto enchanted spits that hovered over the fire and spun by themselves. The smoke from the fire dissolved into the air, the enchantment to keep the air clean still strong in this room. Enchanted brooms and mops weaved around the busy cooks while enchanted rags pushed themselves across bare portions of tables, keeping the place in constant sanitary order. The room was sweltering--our church too poor to afford a climate control enchantment, cooks pausing to mop at their sweaty brows with rags. Sylann, the female chef of earlier, moved from table to table, lending a helping hand when she could. Her role in the kitchen was obviously a supervisory one. Never had I seen our simple church kitchen like this--I never knew our dismal, outdated space was capable of supporting restaurant-quality food.

I found the tub of soapy water in the storage room next to the kitchen, an impressive pile of dirty pots, pans, and saucers already stacked around it. Arming myself with an apron so as not to soak my robe, I pounced on the task, still miffed earlier by Barian's words. I had no idea one plate of food cost so much! I felt bad for wasting it, but still, the attitude was uncalled for! It was a simple accident—anyone could have bumped into that tray and knocked it over. Besides, I was a priestess of the Light! I had no time to deal with little kitchen tasks, not to mention I was leaving Quel'Thalas tomorrow. It would take someone months at a measly 40 copper per hour to pay that food off. It simply could not happen.

I stewed over Barian as I scrubbed the dishes. My frustration boiled over as various servants began to stack more dishes beside me. It was obvious some of the guests had finished eating. Why couldn't there be a dishwashing enchantment?

I tried my best to keep up, but the dishes kept piling faster than I could get them clean. I never knew elves could eat so much—when was this going to end?

After a while my shoulders and back began to ache from hunching over the tub, my hands going raw from being submerged constantly in hot water, my stomach begging for food. I had long since given up on the race against the stacking piles of dishes, almost engulfed by them, instead trying to focus on at least getting them as clean as possible.

At one point I paused to peer through the doorway into the kitchen, seeking out any sign of lifted activity which would signify an eventual break for me. The kitchen was as busy as it was before, though this time Barian had joined Sylann in making rounds. It was clear that they were the head chefs of this group, and the nods of respect they drew from each cook as they weaved around the room was unmistakable. I glared as I watched Barian move, doubting very much that he'd lend me a hand with my mountain of a workload.

He stopped by the vegetable table, helping a cook that looked rather flustered and overwhelmed with his workload, his nervous posture indicating that he was new. Sylann joined them, the two head chefs chopping through the food in mind-numbing speed, though they both looked relaxed despite the exertion. They chatted, Barian throwing a smile her way, she responding with a light chuckle that just managed to ring over the steady clang and bang of the busy kitchen. It was clear that they had known each other for a while, and were comfortable with one another. The look she gave him when he looked away from her and down at his work was that of utmost respect and something more--something I had seen before from other people, mainly couples. I squirmed in place, somehow bothered by the look she gave him. Why would I be? They were colleagues, probably friends, and maybe even lovers or married to one another--his personal life should be of no concern of mine. I frowned, irritated that Sylann's attitude towards Barian would bother me, then jumped as someone opened the door to drop another stack of dirty plates by the tub. I sighed, slinking moodily back to work.

I wished for night to arrive as I finally finished several stacks of bowls, resenting the fact that the sun was still high in the sky, therefore there were still many hours I had left to suffer through this. The busy kitchen sounds did not stop, did not lighten, the cooks keeping up with the appetite of wedding guests. If they would stop making food, people would stop eating and I would no longer have so many dishes to clean. The delicious smells colliding and wafting about didn't help matters, as it only increased my hunger. When was this going to end?

Someone else stepped into the room. I swallowed the urge to glare at whoever dared to bring me even more dishes, glancing over my shoulder to see who it was.

Barian.

I snapped my head forward, afraid that my anger would get the best of me. Suddenly that bit of stuck on food in the pot I was wrestling with became a lot easier to scrub off. "You have some new task for your slave to do?" I snarled.

"Take a break," was his simple answer.

I let the pot sink into the tub, turning to face him. "A break?" I snapped. "That's all? You—"

He thrust a plate full of fresh, hot food my way, effectively cutting off my words. I took it away from him gingerly, taking all I had not to snatch the food and gobble it down.

"Thank you," I managed curtly before scooting off to a corner. Just about a little bit of everything was on the plate, including a piece of the very expensive fish that had me here in the first place. I began to eat as Barian took my place in front of the tub of water, rolling up his sleeves and continuing with the half-scrubbed cooking pot.

The food actually was rather good. The fish almost seemed to fall apart in my mouth, the tangy taste of the sauce blending nicely with the fish's aftertaste. The pasta was delectable, the roast juicy and tender, the rolls the softest I've ever tasted. All of it was delicious and before I knew it I had eaten it all, regretful that there wasn't more.

Barian had his back to me and I watched silently for a few moments as he dealt with the dishes. He truly was a talent in the kitchen. He had made all of this food in hopes that someone from House Sunstrider would try it. I agreed with his earlier comment, however—he really was a fool. Why would he think someone from the royal family would come to this wedding? Social events that they attended usually happened within closed doors—in breathtaking ballrooms that I could only imagine. But I suppose chasing dreams can leave one blind at times, and I suppose Barian was merely responding to that faint stroke of hope, that allure of possibility that any person with a desire to improve themselves felt from time to time. I certainly felt it, in my desire to be even a shadow as faithful and dedicated as Sister Liadrin to the Light. I almost felt sorry for Barian. Almost.

"Your food, it's delicious," I commented as I moved beside him, getting back to work on the dishes. "As much as I dislike you right now, I must compliment your cooking ability."

Barian did not look up at me, but he did smile softly. "You're certainly not afraid to openly express your feelings."

I shrugged, reaching for a particularly greasy pan. "What is the point of striving to be a good person if you can't be honest with yourself and those around you?"

"I suppose that's true."

We worked in silence for a few minutes, engulfed in the sounds of sloshing water, the rummage of dishes, the busy clanging and scraping sounds of cooks in the next room, and the drifting, light music of the band outside. I tried to ignore my pounding heart--why was it beating so anyway?--thinking again about Barian and Sylann and how very different this was compared to how comfortable they were around each other.

"Why are you here anyway?" I asked. "Shouldn't you be out helping your team with the food?"

"They've got it handled from here," was his answer before dumping a pile of dirty plates in the water to soak. "Ostus expects me to enjoy the reception as a regular guest at some point during the day. My team is gracious enough to cover for me while this happens. They're a good bunch of people and very good at what they do—I couldn't ask for a better team."

I nodded, forcing a smile, scrubbing at a fork. "I suppose Sylann is the biggest help in allowing you time to enjoy your friend's wedding." I regretted those words the moment they left my mouth.

Barian didn't seem to think anything of it, though. He swirled water into a pot. "She certainly is."

The way his voice softened when he said that confirmed my assumption. "It must be nice working side-by-side with your wife in something that you enjoy."

Barian paused, shooting me a sideways glance with a raised eyebrow. "What? My wife?" He burst into laughter and I glowered, not liking being laughed at. This only made him laugh harder. "She's not my...wife, or my lover, or anything like that if that's what you're thinking," he said when his amusement subsided. "Well, we used to be lovers. We dated for a while, a long time ago. Turns out we have nothing in common aside from our love of cooking. We still remain friends, though, and she is my most trusted colleague. She's currently engaged to a farmer outside of Fairbreeze Village, and I am engaged to my career."

I frowned, never guessing that she was engaged to someone else from the look she had given Barian earlier. I decided not to bring it up, the conversation awkward enough as it was already. At least it was nice to hear that he wasn't seeing anyone. It bothered me that I cared enough about that little tidbit of information to feel happy about it. Definitely time to change the subject.

"That still doesn't answer why you're here."

Barian glanced up at me then, looking a bit nervous, forcing himself to look into my eyes. "I…" he sighed, looking back down into the water, suddenly paying special attention to a plate that had already been scrubbed. "I'm sorry, for how I treated you earlier," he started, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise, certainly not expecting an apology. "When I heard this morning that no one from the royal family was attending the wedding, I got angry. All you did was bump into that stand—it could have happened to anyone. I shouldn't have set up that tray of food so carelessly, and I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you. As head chef, this is all my responsibility."

I wanted to smirk, wanted to gloat, wanted to bask in the fact that I wasn't at fault after all, but there was something about receiving an apology that made one feel just a tad bit guilty. "I'm sorry, too, for being such a brat. I'll be going through some big changes in my life right now, and I guess I just don't know how to handle it."

We worked in silence for another few moments, our pile of dishes growing noticeably smaller. Having an extra pair of hands certainly helped.

Now it was my turn to be hesitant, grateful, for once, for the distraction of doing dishes. "For the record, I think if someone from the royal family did attend, they'd love your food. I certainly thought it was delicious. Judging by the amount of plates here, so do a lot of people."

Barian studied me from the corner of his eye for a moment. I shifted uncomfortably in my spot, never liking when people didn't face me directly. Finally, he smiled, turning his head my direction. He had such a nice smile—it lightened his whole face, made his clear blue eyes seem to glow that much brighter. He certainly was handsome when he smiled. "Thank you."

We worked diligently together, passing the time and breaking the tension with small, idle chit-chat—comments about the wedding, the church, and such. Eventually our small talk grew a bit more personal, each of us sharing snippets of our lives, laughing at the occasional joke. I found Barian surprisingly easy to talk to—he was an attentive listener, and often had thoughtful responses to whatever I had to say. In turn I found talk of his life fascinating, somehow. He wasn't really any different from the average high elf—son of a sword smith father and a mother who was a former servant of a politician, eventually starting her own restaurant—what he was running now. He grew up with a fondness for cooking, travel (though he had yet to venture too far outside of Quel'Thalas), and as he so strangely worded it, "the manipulation of sharp, pointy things." Whatever that meant. Nothing really interesting to a particular person, but to me, it was all fascinating, merely because it was all about Barian.

I felt almost regretful that we had managed to clean and dry all the dishes that were there, as this meant an end to our conversations.

"I don't know about you," Barian said as he stood up, "but I think we should get out of here while we can, because once everyone is done with dessert, this place will be a nightmare."

I stood up also, taking off my apron. "Does that mean I am relieved of duty, Master?"

Barian smirked. "Yes, slave, you can scurry away now."

We both laughed at our joke as we moved through the kitchen. I caught Sylann turning from the meat table to look at us as we passed by, glancing at Barian curiously before resting narrowed eyes and a frown on me. I pretended not to notice the look, thinking nothing of it. Why would it bother me anyway? I was just a priestess, helping a chef with common kitchen tasks for a wedding held at our church.

Despite that, I felt a pang of sadness as we stepped out into the yard now bustling with dancing and laughter, wishing I had gotten to know Barian sooner. The Light wasn't a very popular religion in Quel'Thalas, more as a study of what the magisters called "the healing arts" than a way of life. It being my way of life, however, I spent a lot of time at the church, so I didn't have very many friends to confide with, especially outside of the faith. Barian was now yet another thing I'd miss about my homeland, and I wished I had more time before I had to leave.

I sighed, letting the cool evening breeze fan my face. The sun was just starting to sink into the trees to the West, the sunlight aging to a more orange color. Tomorrow would be here before too long; might as well reveal to him my plans for tomorrow. I turned to Barian's direction. "I just want to thank you for—"

I blinked, realizing that he wasn't there. Strange, I could have sworn he was behind me just a moment ago! I looked around, trying to spot his stark-white attire, his mass of bound blonde hair, but I could not spot him anywhere. Where did he go? I sighed again, dejected, and decided that it was perhaps a good idea that I was leaving for Stormwind so soon anyway. I didn't realize I was such bad company.

"Katlayna!"

I turned to see Sister Liadrin approach me, having changed into an elegant but modest peach dress with long sleeves, a high collar, and a skirt that billowed around her. She had her light brown hair pinned in soft curls around her face, a small bit of rouge on her cheeks. She looked beautiful and my heart felt at ease upon looking at her, as it always did. I smiled back at her, grateful for her company.

"You're all packed and ready to go?" she asked, her voice firm but gentle, soft crinkles forming around her eyes from her smile. She was old enough to be my mother, and there had been many days that I honestly wished she was, but she was still one of the most beautiful elves I knew, her radiance shining brighter with age. I looked up to her, her unshakable faith and positive outlook on life everything I wished I could someday aqcuire. I felt like crying at that moment, her mention of packing another grim reminder that I wouldn't see her again for quite some time.

"Not yet," I answered, looking down so that she could not see my pained expression. "I was busy…"

"I noticed you helping the caterers," she commented, her voice heavy with pride. "They were short-staffed, so I'm sure your thoughtfulness means a lot to them. You were a perfect example of a devoted follower of the Light, volunteering to help in any way you can, and working so hard in doing so."

Guilt hung from my heart. Liadrin thought I had enthusiastically helped Barian the entire day when really I resented most of the work and complained to myself about it the entire time. Yet another reminder of how long of a journey I had to be as devoted to the Light as Sister Liadrin was. I bit my lip, struggling with a way to admit to her that my volunteer work wasn't really a gesture of generosity, angry at myself that I couldn't be a better apprentice by immediately admitting the truth.

"What are you off to do now?" she asked.

I swallowed, a bit relieved from the change in subject. "I was going to go finish packing and then--"

"Packing can wait for a little while longer." She reached forward to grasp my hands, her smile so reassuring. "This is your last night in Quel'Thalas for a few years at least. Enjoy yourself for once. You're always reading on the Three Virtues of the Light, or praying, or some sort of work. Take in all the good that is Quel'Thalas, lock it with your memories as you live amongst humans."

Why couldn't she understand that all her talk about this was making me miss her more, making it harder for me to deal with leaving? "Sister," I started, keeping my voice from shaking, resisting the tension in my throat that came with crying. "I—"

She hugged me tightly then, her favorite perfume engulfing my senses. "I'll miss you," she whispered, the quaver in her voice unmistakable, drawing me to a shocked silence. "The next time I see you, we will be equals in our devotion to the Light. I look forward to that day. For now, I need you to enjoy yourself. I want to see you smile and have fun. I've known you since you were a baby, Katlayna. Dealing with you leaving is hard – at least let me know that you have left with fun-filled memories of your last day in Silvermoon."

My arms finally curled around her to return the gesture as I closed my eyes. "OK, I will," I whispered.

We parted with warm smiles, my heart a torrent of emotions and desires – wanting to stay in Silvermoon, but also wanting to start my intense studies, missing Sister Liadrin, warmed by her words, miffed at Barian for his sudden departure, knowing that I still needed to pack…

I strolled through the yard, feeling as lazy as the evening sun and the bugs flitting smoothly about in the dying light, watching people dance hand-in-hand to the music, the women in long, gorgeous, brightly-colored dresses, the men looking strapping in their suits. Children weaved in and out amongst those adults that preferred to stand and chat over glasses of wine. I suppose having all these people here wasn't so bad on the yard after all—it brought joy to those in it, the very atmosphere of the space light and relaxing. I stood around for a while, merely watching, absorbing everything, trying to convince myself that I needn't feel so sad about taking this rare opportunity to study outside of Quel'Thalas.

People began offering the bride and groom their wedding gifts. I watched with mild interest, admiring the bride's beauty and her gorgeous dress, hoping that someday it would be my turn, but knowing with the lifestyle I had chosen that that would never be the case. My thoughts drifted briefly to Barian, and the way Sylann looked at him earlier.

The gift exchanges dragged on for a while as my mind mulled through the nice conversations Barian and I had shared while doing dishes.

The line had shrunk to a couple of stragglers by the time I mustered up enough willpower to leave the area. I had hoped to catch sight of Barian again before I retired for the night, but his long absence was too much to handle. I wondered what I had said to scare him away, what I had done...

Then I saw him. I didn't realize it was him at first, only half paying attention to the elf with long blonde hair falling loose over his back, dressed in a black suit, as he approached the newlywed couple. When that elf spoke, however, I knew it was him. I never thought he'd look so good in a suit, it complementing his form much better than his cooking attire did. He looked so different with his hair down, narrowing his face, drawing more attention to the gentle curve of his nose, his smooth, narrow chin, and those mesmerizing eyes of his. He was surprisingly handsome, and I couldn't help but blush as I watched him move to the center of yard, to a mass expanse of open space.

"As many of you may know," he started, people turning to hear him speak, "Ostus and I have known each other for a long time, since we were children. For as long as I can remember, he has been at my side, through all the joys in my life, and all the turmoil, often as a pest, but always as a best friend."

"Someone has to keep you in line!" Ostus called out, his voice shrill from having a bit too much to drink, and people laughed, including Barian.

"Now he's finally married," Barian continued, "finally sharing his life with his gorgeous wife. I don't know how he managed to pull that one off, but I'm glad to finally have some breathing room! Thanks, Giselle, for being so good to him." He grinned, people chuckling, the bride blushing and mouthing a "thank you" Barian's way while Ostus shouted off his thanks. I was blushing too, but not at all because of his words, unable to take my eyes off him.

"You're starting new lives together. You're the only family I have, and you've done so much for me, so much, so I thought it fitting to offer you my most cherished possession in return for always being in my shadow."

Ostus gasped, suddenly speechless, obviously moved by whatever it was Barian was talking about, while someone rushed to him a very large, narrow, plain-looking blue shield. The area was silent, all eyes on him, all curious as to what this most cherished possession could be.

"My father was a sword smith," Barian explained, holding the shield out stiffly in front of him. "I grew up fascinated with the weapons he'd create. At first he was protective, worried that I'd hurt myself. But over time, over the years, he crafted a weapon suitable to my form, my style, something forged just for me. That weapon was this."

From behind the shield he pulled out a sword. Well, not really a sword, more like a glaive, the handle being a bar in the center between two blades. Each blade curved outward, the weapon in its entirety giving off a slight "S" shape, the blades curved just enough for the weapon not to be mistaken for a pole arm. The blades were grooved in several places, tinged in blue—the color of Quel'Thalas and of the Alliance. The concave portions of the blades appeared jagged, but not messily so, more to give the weapon a more menacing look. The handle, in the center of the "S" shape, looked a bit worn from heavy use. The weapon stretched in length from Barian's feet to mid-shoulder. Even to me, a priestess that knew nothing about warfare and held a more pacifistic nature, thought the weapon was beautiful.

"No, Barian, you don't need to give me that," Ostus protested breathlessly. "You've had that thing forever."

Barian ignored him. He spun the weapon around slowly in his right hand, somehow managing not to catch the tips in the grass. "I've learned to master this blade over the years, always the test subject for its many alterations until this, perfection. My father died before he could petition this for use within the Silvermoon guard force. It was designed to accompany a shield." He emphasized with a shake the rather dull shield in his left hand. "However, I'm no good at handling such clunky, awkward things. So, for me, my father made not one of these, but two."

He allowed the shield to fall, holding in his left hand another glaive, identical to the first. He paced a few steps back and forth, holding both weapons naturally, as though they were merely knives.

"These weapons weren't designed to dual-wield," he continued. "They're too long and some portions of the blade too jagged, causing these two to catch. Also, the degree of the curves for these blades, though slight, makes handling them together dangerous for the wielder. However, these two weapons were meant to be together, a pair, one incomplete without the other. Together they are a truly unbreakable force, a perfect sign of unity against what is considered an impossible union. I see this in Ostus and Giselle, as I will demonstrate now."

He began to move, very slowly at first, guiding the blades around him in confident, fluid motions. The blades crossed, but never touched, grazing the ground, but never cutting a blade of grass. It almost looked like he was dancing, his blades his companion in something slow, fluidic, complicated, dangerous, and entirely beautiful. I wondered how he was going to demonstrate this without ruining his suit, or even how his suit didn't constrict his movements, but he seemed to be having no troubles doing any of this. He kept his gaze forward most of the time, but every once in a while I'd catch his eyes follow the curve of the blades, and it was then that I realized that this was what he loved most out of life. Sure, he was a talented cook and he seemed to enjoy himself while doing it, but the look in his eyes at that moment was unmistakable—wielding those glaives was what he loved most, his connection to them so strong. I wondered why he was giving them up.

He shifted the angle of his wrists just slightly, enough to capture the fleeting sunlight in his blades, causing spots of light to dance around him against the crowd. Children giggled and jumped up within the crowd to catch these reflections of light, and I could catch Barian grin over this.

Then his speed, his stance, the very mood around him changed as he began to move his body faster, driving his swords in stronger, harder strokes, the blades whistling in the air. Soon they seemed like a blur around him, Barian caught in the center of what could potentially cut him to pieces. The crowd remained silent, captivated by his performance, all eyes on him. He was quite the sword dancer, and I couldn't help but wonder how he would fare in a battle, but resisting the urge to actually imagine this; I could not stand violence of any sort.

Finally, he stopped, lightly panting, his suit and his long hair still intact. He dropped to one knee in front of the married couple, presenting both weapons, one stacked on top of the other, laid flat across both upturned palms.

"We can't take these from you," Ostus commented breathlessly, his wife nodding in agreement. "Your father made these for you. He put so much time into them. You used them so much, perfected them! Just…why? Really…"

"Just take them," Barian muttered.

"I can't."

"Just do it."

"I won't!"

"You stubborn prick, just take them!"

"You equally stubborn bastard, I won't!"

"These things are quite heavy to hold like this for too long. Your best friend is suffering, Ostus. Really, do you want to do that to him?"

Finally, Ostus sighed. "Ok, fine, but only because you're crazy." He removed them both from Barian's hands. The crowd, in turn, cheered.

I decided it a good time to take my leave as some people gathered around to take a closer look at the gifts, while others returned to dancing or loitering around the appetizers table. I wanted to greet Barian, congratulate him on his performance, jump back into our conversations of earlier, but I suddenly felt a distance between us, with how great he looked now, with the attention he was getting, with how he so easily became part of this crowd of overdressed partygoers. I did not want to close this sudden rift with my plain ways. Barian was no longer an ordinary elf to me—he was someone else now, someone above me socially, which made me feel uncomfortable, inferior somehow. Besides, I had only just met him—I still didn't know much about him, was probably just an acquaintance to him that he knew from his best friend's church wedding. No doubt he'd be like all the other people I had tried to befriend throughout my life—he'd eventually realize the degree of my faith, the limits it placed on my life, would then find me strange or prudish and uptight and would finally abandon me to befriend more interesting people. I certainly did not want to be hurt like that again. So I pushed against the crowd, making my way slowly towards the dormitory.

I suddenly felt a hand clamp on my shoulder, tugging insistently. I narrowed my eyes and turned around, annoyed at whoever it was that was being so pesterous, and came face to face with Barian.

Up close he looked even better than he did from afar, no longer smelling of a hot, greasy kitchen but instead of a lingering trace of cologne. "Hey," he said, "leaving already?"

I juggled between joy and irritation. "I couldn't find you," I decided to say.

"I'm sorry, I had to clean up."

"I can see that." It took amazing willpower to refrain from giving him a good, approving once-over right in front of him. The thought of wanting to do so left me feeling suddenly shy. "Your sword display was impressive," I commented as I rubbed at the cuffs of my robe. "I could tell those weapons were important to you. Why give them up?"

He smiled softly at me, my heart melting over the warmth of it. "Ostus really helped me out in getting my life in order," he explained as we walked together towards the refreshment stand. "I was such a mess beforehand, especially after my parents died. Ostus helped me find drive, focus. Now my mother's business is flourishing, I love my work, I live in a comfortable area of the city, there's always money in my pocket now—well not after today, and I'm surrounded by good friends. I'm satisfied with my life now, and busy—I just don't have time any more to be swinging swords around like I used to. I'm happy to move on—that was my thanks to him for that."

I smiled, happy and envious at the same time at how content and satisfied Barian sounded throughout all of that. I hoped Ostus realized how good of a friend he had.

We stopped in front of the drinks, though neither of us reached for one. "Well, I'm glad you've found your place in life and that you're happy," I said, never feeling more sincere. "Really, I am."

Barian raised an eyebrow, trying to capture my gaze with his eyes, me intent on avoiding it. "And yourself? You're happy too, aren't you?"

No one had ever asked me that. This was even the first time I had asked myself such a question. Was I really happy? I knew no other life than that of the church. I was leaving to study amongst human clerics in order to improve my studies in the Light. Wasn't I? Or was I merely following the motions? So taken aback by this sudden thought track, I didn't notice Barian holding a hand out to me until I heard his voice: "Want to dance?"

I blinked, broken from my reverie, looking at him then at his awaiting hand. Dancing?! I glanced behind me to the group of people dancing behind us, feet bouncing along in time to a merrier tune. I looked back at Barian, eyes widening. "Now?"

Barian's stance held, and he grinned at me. "What, never danced before?"

I frowned, displeased. "I have, just not with other people."

"Come on, it'll be fun, I promise."

Since when did I become such a fool, a lovesick puppy? No, it's not love, I told myself as I placed my hand in his. I've only known him for less than a day. I'm not so shallow. But there was something about his smile, the way his fingers curled over mine, that had me so foolishly following his lead to the crowd.

I felt awkward at first, clearly not in my element as others around me clapped and laughed to the rhythm. People pranced around others, spun around, wiggled in time to the music with joined hands, whatever suited their fancy. At least this wasn't formal dancing—I would never be able to survive in a ballroom setting.

Slowly, gradually, I grew more comfortable with just letting my body go, realizing that no one else around me cared how I moved or were even paying attention—they were all too busy having their own fun. And Barian, thoughtful Barian—I knew he could dance, after seeing how he moved with his glaives earlier, but he purposely made himself look like a fool in front of me, seeking my laughter, coaxing me to dance with him because, as he had said, "it can't be any worse than what I'm doing now."

So when the band played lighter, faster songs we spent that time seeing what we could do to make the other laugh, enjoying poking fun at one another, and generally having fun. I felt like a child again, oblivious to everyone else around me except for the one I was dancing with.

While couples snuggled close and swayed together to slow songs, we'd stand off to the side to chat some more, have a little wine, and sample the food Barian and his team had prepared. I did not notice the sun sink behind the horizon, the arcane lanterns flicker to life around us, the stars begin to twinkle merrily above us, so enthralled I was in this time with Barian. Never did I have so much fun; I never wanted this night to end. But when I gazed at the happy wedded couple as they danced slowly together, closely, almost sensually, eyes locked on one another, hands resting almost on places of the body not considered overly decent to touch in public, I realized how late it was and how quickly this night would end. Soon Ostus and his bride would go to continue their celebration of this day privately while everyone else would go to sleep off their fun and deal with hangovers in the morning. I would be leaving for Stormwind.

I felt a strong tug in my heart, my emotions falling into its depths. I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay here, continue my studies under the wing of Sister Liadrin, to strengthen this new friendship I had with Barian, my first solid friendship outside of the Church. But I knew I couldn't, my faith still so much stronger than any selfish desire I had, knowing that staying for the sake of a friend would make me happy, but would not necessarily evolve me into the person I wanted to be--a full-fledge Priestess of the Holy Light. So I tried to swallow those feelings, sipping more wine from my glass than I should, but I couldn't hold back the sudden sting to my eyes. I tried to blink it away, not allowing the tears to come, focusing on all the dancing couples and their elegant attire, anything...

"What's wrong?" Barian asked softly, tilting his head low to try to meet my gaze. "You look sad."

I looked into his eyes, knowing that doing otherwise would give my sorrow away. "No, it's fine, I'm just tired," I said, trying to sound confident, forcing a smile, though my voice cracked and my smile wavered.

Barian looked unconvinced, though he nodded, eyeing me carefully. His stare was always so penetrating, as though he could read my soul with only a gaze, an expression of his that I found so captivating and a little unsettling at the same time. "Come dance with me." He offered a hand just as another slow song began to play, tranquil and melodious in its tune, enriched with the beautiful, crooning voice of a singer.

My eyes widened as they did the first time he had asked me to dance. "What, now? But this song..." This slow song was one of my inner favorites, very old and not very popular, but it held romantic connotations – of a love born, lost in the ebbing, changing flow of time, then found again. It was the song that would ring in the background of my daydreams when I was a little girl, of when I thought of myself in an elegant dress, dancing with some Prince Charming.

"It's probably one of the last songs of the night," Barian coaxed with a half-smile. "I doubt the musicians will play any more upbeat songs."

"But..."

There was that smile again, so patient, so warm, his hand still held out to me. I wanted to melt into those sky-blue eyes of his. One slow dance couldn't hurt, right? After all, it was only dancing.

I placed my hand in his, electrified, as always, by the contact of his skin against mine, and he led me out onto the dance floor.

"Have you ever danced like this before?" he murmured, his voice soft.

I merely shook my head, too nervous now to talk.

"Alright. Place your right hand in my left." He held his hand out to the side, palm up.

I obeyed.

"Your left hand on my right shoulder."

I looked down as I did so, not wanting Barian to see me blush. It was the most I've touched him; why did it fluster me so?

"And if you don't mind, my hand..." He rested his other hand on my waist. I could feel my face grow hotter. Our bodies were so close, almost touching; I could feel the heat radiate from him. I could smell the cologne on his skin, my eyes tracing the slope of his neck and the curve of his jaw as I was too nervous to look into his eyes. "Now..."

We began to move, slowly, he guiding me along with his left hand. I shuffled in my steps a bit at first, unsure of how to move, but it wasn't long before I realized that dancing this way didn't really require any previous knowledge of dancing and that, for the most part, we just swayed to the music.

"This isn't so bad," I commented, confidence rising.

Barian smiled. "Good to hear. Usually this is just an opportunity for people to talk while actually doing something."

I nodded. "I see."

Then, without warning, he spun me around. I laughed in spite of myself, my mind suddenly plunging to memories of my childhood when I imagined being twirled on the dance floor in a beautiful, billowing dress. It was a far cry from what I was wearing now--the dull silver and white uniform of a priestess in training that didn't billow at all while twirled. I realized that I must look very plain compared to the other women on the dance floor.

It was astonishing how natural we fell back into the original dance position, me still grinning from the surprise twirl. I took this time to look around, scoping how underdressed I really was compared to the other women here. Bright spring-time colors flared against the black suits of the men, skirts floating so elegantly around their legs, bodies glistening with jewelry, hair pinned in various fashionable, beautiful styles.

"See something interesting?"

I faltered, fighting back my urge to frown, not wanting to kill this mood. "Nothing, just…the way I'm dressed, compared to the others…"

"Don't fret so much about that, you're the best looking one here."

I flashed Barian an exasperated look. What a blatant lie. "Come on now," I snapped grumpily, "be serious. I don't own a single nice dress to my name, or—"

"Just close your eyes."

I blinked, not expecting the sudden comment, giving Barian an inquisitive look.

He smirked at me, his eyes glinting in a mischievous way. "What, don't trust me?"

"Not with a face like that."

He chuckled. "It's so fun to tease you, Katlayna. But seriously, close your eyes."

I hesitated, but eventually obeyed, guided through the floor now only by the feel of his warm hands on me, the motion of his movements, the swish-sounds of the other dancers around us, and all of our footsteps on the grass.

"Now," he whispered, his breath in my ear, "imagine this is your special day, whatever occasion that may be. Imagine you're the one with the most elegant dress, all these people around you now are here for you, everything here is for you. Tell me what you see, imagine it."

I decided to participate in this little game of his, my mind weaving the loose threads of this night into a beautiful tapestry centered on me. "This song is playing," I started slowly, "my wedding song. My wedding dress—sleeveless, fitting around my torso, flaring out below the waist. There are tiny white flowers in my hair. Everyone around me is having the best time, the wedding party and their dates all dancing around me, Sister Liadrin giving me her blessing. Everything takes place here, but this yard looks even more elegant than ever, the flowers shimmering, the weather perfect, the scent of honeysuckle all around us." As I imagined this, I could feel my spirits uplifted, all of my senses coming around me to enhance what I was seeing behind closed eyes. The music seemed to swell in a slow, gradual crescendo, the voices around me quieting. A small breeze picked up, and with it the sweet fragrance of the flowers. I could feel Barian sweep me around a corner and in that instant, with everything falling together so perfectly, so naturally, I really did feel like the most beautiful girl at the party, that everyone really was here just for me, the perfect bride, dancing with her…

I opened my eyes, my vision fading to Barian's face. I had never bothered to think about the groom before now, always imagining what my wedding dress would be like, my hair, how the party would look, and other such things. I had never pondered details of the groom, the supposed ideal man for me, and my mind scrambled to grasp those details before the image completely faded away. Barian, as handsome and as charming as he was right now, made a nice placeholder for this special someone. A placeholder, because I was too scared to think that my future groom was standing right in front of me now. How silly that was! I had only just met Barian today and already I was imagining him as my groom! But no…I was not scared that Barian could be what they called "The One". I was really scared that, after only knowing this man for a day, I actually liked the notion that he could be. Perhaps I was no different from my shallow cohorts after all. How did that happen?

"You're blushing," he commented with a little smirk.

I blinked, realizing that I, indeed was, and looked away, feeling my face grow hotter from this.

"What little detail are you neglecting to share with me, Katlayna?"

"It's nothing," I snapped, forcing myself to scowl, definitely not wanting Barian to push further into the issue. He did not need to know of my foolish girly thoughts of marrying the first man to sweep me off my feet.

He chuckled again. "I'll leave those thoughts to yourself, so long as I get to see that smile again."

I looked back up at him, raising my eyebrows. The way he was looking at me now, what he had just said…

"Barian Duskfall, do you dare flirt with a priestess of the Light?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "I do," was his confident reply. "Do you mind?"

"I, uh…" I wondered if my face would forever stay red from the way he continued to keep me blushing. No, I didn't mind at all, but how to say that without feeling so awkward?

"Well, would a priestess object from merely stating the truth? Being truthful is important to your religion, is it not?"

I nodded, wondering where he was going with this. "Yes…"

"Good. Truthfully, you're beautiful, and even more so when you smile. You really should smile more often, so that others can see this truth."

I laughed, still blushing, always blushing! "That came out terribly corny, Barian."

He laughed along with me, and I wondered if anyone thought we were strange being the only giggling couple on the dance floor during what was supposed to be a very romantic moment for everyone else. I didn't care, though. I had a feeling he didn't either. "I know," he said. "I'm terrible with pickup lines—I've never been smooth with the ladies, even after Ostus's persistent coaching. But I had to try."

"Smooth…with…the ladies…? Coaching?"

"Emphasis again on how terrible I am at this sort of thing."

We chuckled again and I rested my head on his shoulder, squeezing my hands to try to emphasize a hug in this position. I was grateful for the break in the mood—I was starting to feel like a bright red berry with all these strange comments and these even stranger new feelings flying around. "Thank you, though, for your comment," I murmured. "No one has called me beautiful before."

I could feel Barian's weight shift slightly and I lifted my head up to look at him.

"Seriously?" he said, doubt everywhere on his face. "No one has ever called you beautiful? I find that hard to believe."

I rolled my eyes. "Ok, well, there's always the perverted old man that will say I'm a 'fine-looking young high elf', but they'll say that to any girl under 500 years old. I've had little girls say I'm 'really pretty', but I remember thinking any adult woman was pretty when I was little. This is the first time I've been called beautiful by…" by an incredibly gorgeous guy.

"…By a sword-dancing chef with bad pickup lines? I'll agree, that doesn't happen to very many people."

I snorted. "Good to know, but that's not quite what I meant. I—"

I didn't see it coming, or I was too slow to react, or something. Somehow I just allowed him to tilt his head forward, did not move away as his lips brushed very lightly over mine, his light breath tickling my cheek. I had completely forgotten what I was in the middle of saying, so surprised I was at this kiss. My first kiss! My mind panicked, wondering what to do, if this was alright, but my emotions seemed to take control as I very gingerly returned the kiss, unsure if I was doing it right but too curious not to give it a try.

We kissed very softly, very slowly, still in dancing position but no longer moving. So tender he was with his kisses, not at all intrusive. I could feel my heart melting, anything else on my mind forgotten as this kiss gradually deepened, lips parting as tongues greeted each other shyly. It was pleasant to taste him, kissing this way not at all disgusting like I had thought it would be. Something else stirred within me, weakly, a yearning deep within the pit of my stomach for more of his touch, the desire to make this feeling spread and grow. His outstretched hand left mine to cup the side of my face and I leaned against his chest, this strange, new feeling within me indeed growing just a little bit as he stroked the skin along my jaw with a feather light touch.

The music died away as we reluctantly broke the kiss. Dazed, I looked at him with a newfound affection, wondering why I didn't realize when we had first met how handsome he was, no longer too bashful to boldly study him as he looked back at me.

"Barian!"

I jumped, the voice so loud, and reality snapped back into place at that instant. People were bustling towards the front of the church, the musicians packing up their instruments, Ostus grinning widely at us, his bride in his arms, swaying a little, the scent of wine strong in his breath.

"It's over, buddy, though it looked like you didn't quite notice. Care to take a moment to greet us out?"

The bride giggled, snuggling up against her husband, her cheeks a little rosy from having a little too much to drink.

Barian cleared his throat as we took a step back from each other, both of us fighting with the awkward moment. "I, uh, of course, Ostus, I—"

"Quite a nice catch there, I must say," Ostus blurted. His eyes ran over me, but somehow not lecherously so, probably only due to the fact that his bride had a hand sneaked around to grip his rear, her other hand trailing up and down his arm suggestively, a smug smirk on her face. It was clear who the star of his dirty thoughts was tonight, and I was grateful it wasn't me. "A priestess for that matter! I'm impressed! Thank you, ma'am, for your breathtaking church, the beautiful reception, and your hospitality, by the way. Well, Barian, the night isn't getting any younger, so we gotta go! We've got a great place in the living room picked out to mount your glaives. Glad to see we won't be the only ones having mind-blowing sex tonight! Good night!"

He laughed as his wife tried her best to flash us an apologetic look, though she looked like she didn't really care either way. "He was only joking," she said to me, rather unconvincingly, as she looked upon my mortified expression. Further attempts at being polite were suddenly forgotten as Ostus hoisted her up over his shoulder, her squealing and laughing all the while.

Where had my mind gone? What was I doing, kissing someone I hardly knew?! And was that Barian's intention from the beginning—to take advantage of my naïve nature and get me in his bed tonight? I hoped that I at least knew him enough to know that this wasn't the case, but still, to abandon myself like that to someone I only met today…

What was worse—I had too quickly crossed the line with him on being just merely friends. I was departing the only home I ever knew tomorrow, something I still had not the courage to tell him yet in fear of upsetting him, and now it was going to be that much harder to leave, me wanting to stay here that much more, making it all so much more painful to bear.

"We...I…we shouldn't have done that." I took another step back, my head spinning, avoiding his direct gaze.

Barian's eyes widened, clearly distressed. "I'm sorry," he stated hurriedly, "Ostus really was just joking—that asshole! The kiss was completely unexpected—it just happened, too caught up in the moment. I really wasn't intending to—"

"It's ok, I understand," I broke off, not wanting to hear his voice anymore, his frantic apologies making it harder for me to resist crying. "I…" I searched the yard, looking anywhere but at him, searching for nothing, everything, just searching. "I have things to do that I should have done hours ago. I shouldn't be here. I…" I looked at him now, he looking confused, bewildered. It pained me to see that I had hurt him, but I was afraid that if I stood there any longer, I would blurt out my plans for tomorrow. Because of how far we've gotten, telling him about tomorrow would only hurt him more. So is it better to just leave without saying anything?

I looked him straight in the eye, lost as to what else to do. "Barian, I'm sorry." And with that, I turned and ran, ignoring his calls out to me, hoping he wouldn't follow me, straight into the dormitory and up to my small, lonely room, the half-packed bags, and my solitude.

TO BE CONTINUED...

A/N

Chapter trivia!

So, I'm a dork. To me, one of the coolest-looking weapons in the entire game is a weapon that isn't all that special, a weapon that players can't even use. That weapon is the glaive the Silvermoon guards use. If you don't know what I'm referring to, take a trip to Silvermoon and see for yourself – the weapon looks VERY cool. Simple, yet elegant. Not flashy or gaudy but unique enough in appearance to be noticed. Not too thick or huge – it looks like something a person can actually wield, yet large enough to still hold an imposing presence. I worry that having Barian related to the creator of said weapon crosses the line into "Mary Sue" territory. However, the origin of the weapon is never mentioned anywhere in lore sources (that I know of), and Barian will not be known to have connection to it, nor will he ever reap the benefits of his connection to it. (Meaning that if one were to ask the average sin'dorei or Silvermoon citizen who designed the weapon, they wouldn't have the slightest clue.) Hopefully this balances my idea that Barian is the son of the creator of the weapon you see everwhere in Silvermoon City. *nod* If you disagree, please let me know!

Songs that inspired this chapter:

"Taverns" – WoW: Burning Crusade OST

"Caribbean Blue" – Enya

"Fairytale" – Enya

"Memory of Lightwaves" – Final Fantasy 10-2 OST (for the sword-dancing scene)