In an act of forgiveness for the tardiness of the story, I've uploaded the first two chapters. An interesting inspiration actually happened while I was playing a round of Warsong in WoW. I was fighting with a hunter who had a pet named 'Deimos'. It gave me a small inspiration to write more.
Just a side note - this story contains many mature themes. It's rated accordingly; this story contains no vulgar language or graphic intimacy. Simply mature themes.
All words in Italics are in Thalassian. Attempting to learn the language is kind of trying so I'm sorry if any of the grammar is wrong.
Ducking out of the way of yet another trader's cart, Lena attempted to maneuver her way through the crowded and bustling trade district. The auctioneer's fast paced voice boomed from the auction house, frantic and panicked voices following his comments. Aristocrats and higher class citizens bustled around the shopping area, parcels and packages filling their arms. Merchants and vendors called out their specials to the hoards of people in hopes of getting more commerce to their meager businesses. Quickly side stepping a large man nearly trampling her small form, Lena loathed moving through the crowded and disorganized district; it spelled disaster for a gnome in a human city.
The small mage quickly turned a corner, trying to escape the stampede of human's obviously not watching for her small height. Giving a large sigh, she was tempted to arcane blast her way out of the crowd. It was difficult to maintain her trademark cheerful attitude when her feet were screaming in pain from being stepped on, the sides of her body starting to bruise from being run into by wooden carts. Indeed, the small girl thought as a hunter gave a quick apology as he bumped into her, she needed some sort of beacon or marker showing her location in the throng of people.
Moving toward the canals from the trade district, Lena began to notice a change in the demeanor of the usually rowdy mob. Standing stationary, the humans craned their necks in hopes of seeing a spectacle further up the crowd. The hoard of humans thickened, making Lena's advance forward rather difficult. The loud and usually booming voices of the shoppers and traders was quelled with silent and curious whispers, making the small mage interested in what they were looking at. Being significantly shorter than the race, she knew it would be impossible for her to see what the sight was. Gritting her teeth, the gnome pulled her resting staff from her back. She would get to the front of the crowd one way or another.
Only coming half way up the humans, Lena found it rather easy to squeeze and maneuver her way through the thick crowd of people. She walked in between spread legs, fit along the sides of people, and, if need be, thwacked the backs of the knees of the humans with her long staff; momentarily causing them to lose their balance for enough time for her pass by unscathed. Sighing as she began to see an opening between the throng of legs ahead of her, Lena was satisfied that she had made it to the front of the crowd. Giving one last push, she was rewarded with standing at the front, her mouth hanging slightly agape at the scene.
Walking down the streets lined with interested and curious humans was a parade of blood elves. Nearly forty Sin'dorei, each equipped with a weapon of some sorts, walked with determination in their steps. Their identical unnatural green eyes and tall heights drew the crowd's interest, the throng of humans falling nearly silent in their presence. All of the elves kept their faces and gazes forward, unreadable and blank expression on their features.
Her wide eyes roaming over the elves, Lena wasn't completely alienated with the race. She had become close with Deimos Ares'mar, having saved his life months prior when the Horde raided Stormwind and both being in the same battalion. However, he was the only blood elf she had witnessed; the large group of them was more daunting and intimidating than she expected. Being shorter than half their height, the gnome had to crane her neck up to even glance at their faces. Her hands still gripping her staff, Lena allowed her gaze to fall on a blood elf surrounded on all sides by well armored elves. While he gripped his own weapon and donned plate armor, he kept his head up in such a way that made the air around him seem stiffer. Cocking her head to the side, Lena figured the elf had some sort of superiority in the race.
An abrupt push behind propelled the gnome forward into the street with a surprised cry. Falling painfully to her hands and knees, the small girl felt her staff slip from her grasp and roll even further into the procession of blood elves. She distractedly heard human's furiously whisper behind her, followed by a loud yet short command in a foreign language sounding similar to the tongue of the night elves. Wincing as she felt her scrapped knees begin to bleed, the gnome brought a hand up to brush the messy pink hair out of her face. Surprised, she was greeted with a large hand extended in her line of vision. Craning her neck back, Lena gave a big gulp as the fair face of a blood elf looked down at her; her long staff in hand.
"Are you hurt, little one?" The male blood elf asked calmly as she accepted his outstretched hand, his larger stature pulling her to her feet with surprising gentleness. Glancing behind him, Lena noticed the line of Sin'dorei had stopped their procession, each watching the exchange between the two with as much interest as the humans.
Accepting her long staff from the tall elf, Lena shook her head; her bright smile plastering itself on her face. "I only suffered inconsequential grazes, but thank you for your aid." She paused, watching as the blood elf cocked his head to the side in utter curiosity before thrusting her own hand out. "I'm Lena Bongtock; my father invented the gnomish imploding and self-repairing alarm clock. Welcome to Stormwind City."
Smiling in amazement at the peculiar girl, the elf embraced the girl's significantly smaller hand tenderly. "Halduron Brightwing of Silvermoon City. As the first to welcome us to the city, I thank you on behalf of the Sin'dorei."
Her innate curious nature getting the best of her, Lena felt a hundred questions lining themselves up in her mind as her smile widened. "How long is your stay in Stormwind? Is it for a long or short duration? There are an awful lot of you; I doubt the hospitality of the inn would suffice your numbers. Where are you staying? Did you say Silvermoon City? I believe that's where Deimos said his native city was. Oh! Do you know Deimos? Deimos Ares'mar? He's an acquaintance of mine; well, relatively at least. We're in the same battalion, but he's Sin'dorei so perhaps you do know him."
Chuckling at the gnome's grilling and strange behavior, Brightwing turned to spare a glance at another elf behind him with drawn back blond hair, who shifted his weight from one foot to another; his hardened gaze not leaving the gnomes face. Crouching down to the girl's face, Brightwing smiled at the mage. "I do indeed know Deimos." The elf paused, the smile spreading. "Are all gnomes this… curious?"
"We're a naturally inquisitive race, always seeking to gain intellect on other civilizations; especially those less technologically advanced from our own."
Blinking at the strange girl, the elf felt a presence behind him. "Brightwing, we have to continue on. The king is expecting us."
Stepping up to his feet from his crouched position, the elf eyed the strange girl with a grin; who continued to smile up at him in sheer interest and analyses. "Well, my small friend, it was a pleasure meeting you. I'm sure our paths will cross again."
"Oh, statistically speaking, I highly doubt it with the immense population the city bears," the gnome paused in thought, her voice never faltering from its cheery tone. "Though, the F-distribution would increase significantly taking into account the variable of us both knowing Deimos. I would have to conduct further chi-squared variates but I believe our analysis of variance is more positive with a common interest."
Chuckling at the eccentric girl, Brightwing merely nodded his head in response; not gathering what the gnome rambled on about. Moving back to the procession of blood elves, he gave a quick nod in farewell to Lena, who waved merrily back.
Moving forward through the street, Brightwing glanced at Lor'themar, leader of the Sin'dorei, walking besides him with a grin. "Our first impression of the human city is in the form of the smallest race of Azeroth. Interesting start."
Standing in the back of the large assembly room, Deimos shifted from one foot to the other nervously. The room was bustling with diplomats, officers, and advisors; conversations buzzing around the large space. The three tiered rows of tables were occupied; chairs and tables littering the floor in a semi circle around an open space. The tables were crammed with officers and other superior ranks of the Alliance wanting to witness the milestone meeting. Shifting as the young elf felt a presence next to him, the paladin turned to glance at Warren's calm face.
"Excited?" The older man asked, his brown eyes roaming the elf's fair face. Word had quickly spread that the procession of blood elves had entered the city walls, making their way to the Keep through the streets of Stormwind.
Shrugging in an attempt down play the adrenaline pumping through his blood at thought of seeing his people, Deimos gave a small grin. "Not really."
"You're a terrible liar."
Rolling his eyes at the warrior, the young elf allowed an excited smile to spread on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Ok, fine, Old School. I'm looking forward to seeing them. I still don't know who's coming though."
His brows coming together in thought, the man leaned up against the wall behind him. The large room was packed with people, the chairs having been taken hours ago, leaving the rest of the observers to stand for the welcoming meeting. "I know Lor'themar and Brightwing are confirmed as attending. I received word that thirty to forty men accompanied them; though I don't know logistics. Sounded like advisors or aids."
Sighing impatiently, Deimos rolled his eyes as he glanced around the room. "I hope the Magister's didn't come. That would make this a lot more difficult."
Squinting his eyes in confusion and curiosity at the comment, Warren was about to question the young elf when a page entered the assembly hall, his pace furious and quickened; a scroll in hand. Not stopping till he entered the open space in the middle of the room, the page cleared his throat dramatically to draw attention to himself. Immediately, the loud and boisterous conversations buzzing around the room died down; the diplomats and king sitting down in their chairs to give the page their attention. Swallowing hard, the young page tilted his head forward in respect to the sovereign observing him with expecting eyes.
"Introducing to my King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind, Lor'themar Theron, Regent-Lord of the Sin'dorei, and his elves from Silvermoon City."
Not waiting for a reply that he knew wouldn't come, the young page nervously moved from his spot in the center of the room to disappear through a side door; relieved to be out of the room. Turning his head from where the page used to stand towards the sound of the twin walnut doors opening, Deimos felt his stomach flip in excitement. It had been months since he last laid eyes on fellow blood elves. Though he didn't mind living with the humans and other races of the Alliance, the young elf still missed the familiar faces of his people. He looked forward to speaking with Brightwing about the changes happening in Silvermoon and discussing his progression as a paladin with his new trainer.
Warren cocked his head in interest as the doors opened, a handful of blood elves entering the silent assembly room with blank expressions. Armor was no longer covering their frames; instead fine clothing donned their bodies. The colors of the clothes were reds and blacks, occasionally trimmed with gold. However, each held a weapon either strapped to their backs or resting on their hips. At the front of the elven group was Lor'themar, his long blonde hair pulled up in a half ponytail at the top of his head. His stare was hard, his eyes focused forward. The warrior allowed his gaze to linger on the leader of the Sin'dorei for several beats until his eyes roamed to the familiar figure standing beside him. A grin spreading across his face, Warren eyed Halduron Brightwing, his long blonde hair running down the front of his body. Having fought side by side the elf when they were aligned with the Alliance years ago, the older man had been friends with Brightwing prior to their dissimilation. Though Warren had aged considerably, the elf had not.
The group of elves reached the center of the room, each one tilting their heads forward in respect to the human king watching them with interest. Returning the sign of reverence, Wrynn nodded his head in respect at the Sin'dorei as he eyed the group. "On behalf of my people and the Alliance, I welcome you to my city. I pray your travels were unproblematic."
Sighing at the tedious pleasantries that the two leaders exchanged, each answering in an almost robotic and mechanical way, Warren grinned as he turned to the young elf standing beside him. Expecting to meet the elf's face full of eagerness and excitement, the older man was tremendously surprised to see the exact opposite.
Deimos' face was void of blood, his fair complexion unnaturally white. His breathing was rapid and forced, his jaw clenched tightly shut. Brows together in confusion at the strange behavior from the elf, Warren eyed his face. His expression was of utmost horror and shock; his green eyes swirling with fear and dread. Unblinking, the young elf's stare was locked on a figure standing in the middle of the room. Tearing his eyes away from the paladin, the older man followed Deimos' gaze to the individual he stared intently at. Realization seeping into Warren's mind, the man darted his eyes between Deimos and the figure.
Standing beside Lor'themar was a tall blood elf, his shoulder length blonde hair pulled back in a neat ponytail away from his face. The elf's frame was broad, his stance intimidating and daunting. A thick sword hung at this hip, the blade glowing azure from an enchantment. Similar to Brightwing, Warren recognized the elf immediately. Tharsis Ares'mar, the older man had fought next to the elf with Brightwing, though they were anything but acquaintances. Tharsis, a warrior himself, was a ruthless and merciless commanding officer; enforcing brutal methods to train his soldiers. The father of Deimos, Warren naturally assumed the two weren't on the best of terms from what he gathered. The young elf had informed Warren that because he was only twenty years old, eighty years short of being considered an adult according to Sin'dorei culture, he was required to live with his father; as he was still seen as an adolescent. However, the paladin was quick to tell the older man that had the age barrier not been instilled, he would have gladly moved out of his father's home.
A cough behind the young elf echoed off the vaulted ceiling, the stoned walls resonating the sound. His eyes still glued to his father, Deimos felt his breath hitch in his throat when similar eyes turned to inspect the noise emitting from his region in the room. His gaze locking with his father's, the young elf watched detection wash over the older Ares'mars' face. Unconsciously sucking in a fast gulp of air, Deimos held the steel gaze with his father as strong as he could; though he knew it was nothing on par with Tharsis. He felt his heart threatening to jump from his chest in anxiety; his father's gaze hardening in a disapproving look at his son, his glare squinting as he scrutinized him. His eyes roaming the young elf's body, Tharsis broke the eye contact to turn his attention back to the discussion at hand.
Sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, Deimos turned nervously to the older man examining him under curious eyes. "I-I need to go outside. I need fresh air."
Shaking his head at the young elf as he swiftly grabbed Deimos' bicep, Warren whispered back to him in an attempt to conceal their voices. "You can't leave, Deimos. It's disrespectful. You'll have to wait till after the meeting."
The elf furiously shook his head, sparing a glance at the group of blood elves continuing discussing the week's scheduled events politely. His father, if he overheard the young elf, didn't allude to it. The temperature felt like he was standing in Hellfire Peninsula, he felt his breaths struggling to fill his lungs; he was on verge of hyperventilating. "I-I'm not feeling well. I need air, Warren."
Giving a silent growl in irritation at the stubborn and immature actions the elf was displaying, the older man was dismayed when the paladin managed to break away from his grasp and begin his way to the walnut doors at the end of the room. "Deimos!"
Not bothering to heed to the whispered call, the young elf continued to weave through the throngs of people. They promptly ignored him, their gazes fastened on the blood elves. Feeling a stare boring into him, Deimos reluctantly turned his eyes towards the opening in the center of the room. Scowling and angry green eyes met his, Tharsis sending a silent scolding to his son through their linked gazes. Instantly, the temperature in the room seemed to heat up significantly. Deimos had naturally assumed his father was still in Northrend, his battalion having been stationed at the front nearly eight months ago; a deployment the young elf was once excited about. He wasn't prepared to meet his father's critical and harsh stare, an underlying meaning behind his gaze. A numbing sensation passed over Deimos' mind, his legs no longer seeming to cooperate with him. Dizziness and nausea seemed to overcome his senses, the warmth in the room becoming unbearable for the young elf. Feeling himself fall forward, he frantically groped the wall in an attempt to right himself.
Watching Deimos begin to collapse forward, Warren turned his brisk walk into a sprint; pushing the standing spectators to the side. The young elf attempted to correct his balance by grabbing onto the wall, only resulting in his fist clutching a corner of a hanging Alliance flag. The large material, unable to support his weight, ripped cleanly through the delicate fabric. The paladin fell to the stoned floor with a loud thud; pulling the attention to the back of the large assembly room where he fainted.
Reaching the downed elf only a beat after he fell, Warren distractedly noticed the conversation between the blood elves and the king had desisted. Instead, gasps and whispers circulated the room at the unexpected interruption. Diplomats and officers stood from their seats at the raised tables to get a better look over the hoards of people, the king even rising from his chair to inspect the disruption. The Sin'dorei turned around; eyeing the older man kneeling beside the young elf. While Brightwing cocked his head to the side in confusion, Tharsis lifted a delicate brow in dismay at his son's dramatic scene; he would have words with the younger elf later. Lor'themar, however, darted his eyes from the collapsed elf to the king's face; curious to see how the sovereign would handle such an emergency.
"Commander Steele!" The King's baritone voice bellowed throughout the assembly hall. "What's happened?"
Slapping Deimos' sweating face in an attempt to rouse him, Warren turned his brown gaze at the sovereign on the other side of the room; elevated on the top tier. "Deimos collapsed. I think he just needs some air." Glancing back down, the warrior was greeted with unnatural green eyes looking up at him, confusion swirling in them.
Nodding, the king obviously unpleased with the interruption, spared a glance at the silent blood elves watching the young elf lay motionless on the ground; it was the last thing he needed to commence the negotiations of a treaty with the race was one of their own dying in his city. The sovereign turned his attention to Warren slowly helping the paladin into a sitting position. "Take him to the Cathedral of Light. Have a priest check him out." Pausing, the king glanced back at the Sin'dorei, their gazes still focused on Deimos; the young elf hanging his head between his bent legs in an effort to stop the dizzy spell. Heaving a strong sigh, Wrynn addressed the assembly hall. "I think we've all had a long day. My friends, please treat Stormwind like your own home. I will have someone show you to your quarters here in the Keep."
Absently aware of a supportive hand on the middle of his back, Deimos felt his breathing correct itself; the feeling of suffocation no longer evident in his body. His pointed ears picked up the sounds of movement around him, he slowly lifted his head to inspect his surroundings. The diplomats and officers had lifted themselves from their seats, the standing spectators moving towards the door to exit the assembly hall. Conversations erupted in the large room, curious glances still being sent over to the sitting elf. Abruptly, Deimos felt firm yet gentle hands grip his biceps, pulling him up slowly to a standing position. Standing on shaky legs, the young elf turned around, curious to see who supported him. Meeting Warren's calm and patient gaze, the elf felt his posture relax considerably.
"C'mon," the older man began, pushing him towards the open walnut doors. "We're about to be trampled by a stampede of people. Let's get you to the priests."
Allowing the warrior to guide him through the doorway, the young elf looked over his left shoulder in an attempt to spare a glance at the blood elves. Unfortunately, the throng of exiting humans limited his view of the inner room; unable to make out any of the elves. He didn't know why his father had accompanied Lor'themar and Brightwing to Stormwind, though frankly, the reasoning behind his presence was of little concern to the young elf. The mere knowledge of his father being in the city caused a shiver to run down his spine; he winced at the thought of the disappointment and lectures that were sure to follow.
Halting their walking when the two were a safe distance from the assembly hall, Deimos turned to a confused Warren; resolution and determination on his face. "Old School, I don't have to go to the priest. I just fainted. The room was too hot and…" looking into the skeptical and disbelieving face Warren was giving him, the young elf sighed. "I'm fine. A priest isn't necessary."
Sighing, Warren glanced around the stoned hallway. The inhabitants that filled the assembly hall only moments before were quickly littering the passageway, their conversations buzzing about the new race that was to be aligned with them. Turning to Deimos, the older man raised an eyebrow. "You're a poor liar, remember? The temperature was fine in there; now tell me what really happened."
"Warren Steele?"
Both the young elf and the warrior whipped their heads in the direction of the voice. Walking towards the two, a bright smile on his face was Halduron Brightwing. His eyes darting between the paladin and warrior, the ranger-general stopped in front of the two; his eyes doing a quick scan over Deimos' body for any injuries. "Working young Ares'mar to utter exhaustion or just a nicely timed ploy to get out of a boring meeting?"
Smirking at the sarcastic yet sincere blood elf, Brightwing was as Warren remembered him. His facial features looked nearly identical to the last time the older man saw him; the years not reflecting on his elven face. "You haven't changed a bit, Brightwing. Though, congratulations on the promotion. Ranger-general of the blood elves; that's quite the accomplishment."
Smiling at his old comrade, the older elf nodded his head in thanks. "I could say the same, Commander." Breaking his attention from the warrior, Brightwing turned to regard the younger elf with another look over. Having helped raised Deimos after his mother died giving birth to him, the ranger-general had assumed an uncle-role to the paladin. Grinning at the boy, Brightwing embraced the shorter elf in a brief hug. "How are you fairing, young one?"
After returning the hug, Deimos broke the embrace with a shrug, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other while he ran an unsteady hand through his short hair. "Alright. I didn't know Ann'da was coming. That was kind of surprising." (Dad)
Smirking at the dry comment, Brightwing crossed his arms over his chest while he eyed the young elf with interest. "We'll be leaving in a week, then you can go back to pretending you're a human with Steele."
Cocking his head to the side in surprise at the comment, Deimos lifted surprised brows at the older elf; quickly sparing a glance at Warren's amused face. "I'm not… I miss Silvermoon, don't get me wrong. But-"
Chuckling at the boy's loss of words, the ranger placed a strong hand on the shorter elf. "Orus, Deimos. Fethuieldu'o." (Relax, Deimos. I was joking).
Rolling his eyes at the older elf, Deimos felt the Thalassian words sooth his anxious mind. Though he was comfortable speaking Common, he still missed the use of his native tongue. On occasion, Warren would speak to the young elf in the language; he was fluent from fighting next to the blood elves years ago. However, the older man disliked speaking it; only using it sparsely.
"I wish I could stay to catch up with you more, but I really must be going." The older elf turned to the amused human, Warren's face holding mirth at the ranger-general. "Warren, I'm assuming there's a decent tavern around here for a drink or two?"
His grin spreading into a smile at the question, the warrior nodded his head. "Old Town; The Pig and Whistle Tavern."
Nodding at the information, Brightwing clasped a hand on the shorter human; a smile on his face. "Then I assume I'll see you there tonight. It was good seeing you, my friend." Turning his gaze to the young elf, he smiled warmly at the paladin, his gaze softening. "A'doreu ann'da aseful. Ni'memasu." (Don't worry about your father. It'll be fine.)
Giving one last grin to the pair, the older elf turned away from them; his gaze falling on Lor'themar talking to a draenei diplomat on the other side of the hallway. Sighing to himself, Deimos only wished Brighwing's words held some sort of truth to them. Not having seen his father in eight months, the young paladin was never able to discuss his leaving Silvermoon to relocate to the human city with him. When he returned home to warn his people about the Horde's treason, his father was still fighting the front at Northrend. He had been assigned by the military leaders of Silvermoon to assume responsibility as the ambassador between the Sin'dorei and Alliance; as he already had established rapport and relationships with the faction. Though he knew he couldn't put off facing his father forever, Deimos had hoped he'd be able to live at least a couple years unscathed.
"So you two knew each other during the war?" Deimos asked the warrior, who glanced around the crowded hallway. Indeed, throngs of people filled the space, making their escape from the Keep all the harder.
Turning his brown gaze at the young elf, the warrior grinned as memories began to resurface from years ago. "Yes; we were good friends. Though time has passed, it seems it hasn't changed his personality at all."
"Hiding in the shadows, Deimos? Why does that not surprise me?"
His breath leaving his throat at the deathly calm voice, Deimos felt the blood drain from his face. Glancing up, the young elf was rewarded with seeing an older elf make his way over to the pair, his face calm and placid; though his eyes shone with irritation and rage. Three inches taller than Deimos, the older elf stood at six and a half feet tall, his broad and strong stature not giving evidence to his middle age. The blonde hair drawn back was identical in color to the young paladin's, his green eyes also showing similarity. A sneer on his face, Tharsis Ares'mar stopped in front of his son; Deimos quickly sending his gaze downcast as his father scrutinized him under hard eyes. Shifting nervously from one foot to the other, the young elf refused to meet his father's annoyed glare.
"I'm so glad that such an important meeting got cut short by nothing of significance."
Fastening his green eyes on the stoned floor, Deimos couldn't bring himself to respond to his father's sarcastic and disdainful voice. Keeping his mouth clamped shut, he figured the lecture would go by easier if he simply said nothing.
The satisfied grin on the older elf's face seemed to deepen at the submissive attitude Deimos displayed, his dominance over his son only being reaffirmed. His eyes still boring down into the young elf's face, Tharsis was absently aware of a second presence beside him. Tearing his gaze away from the fearful and compliant expression on Deimos' features, the older elf lifted his brows up in surprise at the human's scowling face.
"Still alive, Warren Steele?"
Gritting his teeth, Warren glared back at Tharsis; his hatred for the elf deepening as the smirk on his face spread. Sparing a quick glance at Deimos, Warren was utterly confused and surprised at the distinct change in behavior the young elf demonstrated. No longer bearing the rebellious and arrogant attitude, the paladin kept his head dutifully down. Cocking his head to the side in rage, Warren watched with disapproval as the older elf seemed to revel in the obedience his son showed him; taking sick pleasure in the fact that he was able to induce such submission from the young elf.
Darting his brown eyes back to the older elf, Warren responded through clenched teeth. "I see you're still the ass you were years ago."
"And you're still the disgusting and filthy human you were." The older elf paused, his amused and darkened glance running over his son's face. Deimos had lifted his head up to observe the altercation between the two older males; his expression still passive and obedient. Reluctantly meeting his father's glance, Deimos immediately regretted it. A cruel smile spread across the older elf's features as he darted his eyes back to the human. "I'm sorry, Commander Steele," the title coming out dramatically stressed, pleasure in his voice, "I don't know where my manners went. I should be thanking you for taking my son in. He's still so young; it's nice to be able to educate him on less-civilized societies."
"How dare you, you-"
"Oh please," Tharsis responded, laughing darkly with a sweeping motion of his hand, "Save your meaningless insults, Steele." Turning examining eyes at Deimos, the older elf was surprised and dismayed to see a defiant look cross his son's face at his verbal offense on the human race; the compliant look no longer prevailing his features. Setting his jaw in purpose, Tharsis smirked sadistically while he roamed his eyes over the young elf's face. "And what do you think, Deimos? Did you learn anything significant from this savage race?"
His green eyes darting between Warren's angered face and his father's deadly calm one, the paladin felt his emotions torn. Conditioning told him what to say to please his domineering father, but morals and honor led his emotions astray. For the first time in his short life, Deimos was unable to answer his father in the obedient fashion he was reared to do. "Baan, Ann'da. Re'doreu asoesaal." (Please, dad. Don't do this.)
Gritting his teeth in anger at the lack of proper response he received, Tharsis brought his brows together in rage while he got within inches of his young son's face; his voice coming out in a harsh whisper. "What did you say to me?"
His shoulders slumping forward slightly, Deimos gave a small sigh at his lack of insurgency. Tilting his head down in familiar submission, the young elf cast his eyes back to the floor; unable to meet his overbearing father's gaze. "Ro'o, baon." (I'm sorry, sir)
"Good." The older elf quickly glanced at Warren, who returned the angered and rage filled glare, before turning his scrutinizing eyes back to his son. "I have more pressing matters to attend to, but I expect to see you tomorrow. We'll talk at lengths, understood?"
His gaze still focused downward, the elf nodded silently; shame and disgust at himself crossing over his face. He could feel Warren's disapproving eyes boring into him, the thought of his commanding officer thinking lowly of him caused his skin to crawl in discomfort. Unexpectedly, Deimos felt a firm hand grip his chin, slowly lifting his head up. Allowing his eyes to glance up to meet his father's stern and harsh glare, the young elf longed to shrink away from it; the strong grasp on his chin holding him in place.
Tharsis seemed to take great pleasure in the young elf's fear-filled eyes, his grip tightening on his chin. "Though you may live amongst these humans for now, don't you forget your place, Deimos."
Taking a quick intake of breath, the young elf nodded; his response coming out in a small voice. "Yes, sir."
Dropping his grip from the paladin's face, Tharsis allowed his hard gaze to linger on his son's face before turning away from him; moving to join Lor'themar and Brightwing speaking with diplomats. His cheeks flushing with embarrassment, Deimos didn't have to lift his eyes to know that Warren was regarding him with curious eyes. The only consolation the boy had was that his father would be leaving the city in a week's time.
"What the hell was that, Deimos?"
Sighing, Deimos stepped into the foyer of the house; mutely noticing the arcane dust trickling down to the floor from the enchanted chandelier. Gritting his teeth in annoyance and humiliation, the younger elf moved to the golden railed stairs, promptly ignoring the man's lingering question. His mind was set on reaching his bedroom; hoping to lock himself away from the outside world and Warren's questioning gaze. Night was fast approaching the human city, the sun already set.
"Are you going to answer me?"
Pursing his lips in anger, the paladin briefly paused in the middle of the stairs. The older man had a firm and angry tone, his voice laced with impatience. Whipping around to face the warrior, Deimos shook his head furiously; his brows up in exasperation. "What do you want me to say, Warren? You have eyes; I'm sure you're smart enough to come to your own conclusions."
Snarling at the sarcastic and incensed response, Warren took a threatening step towards the young elf. "I don't appreciate your tone."
Setting his jaw at the scolding remark, Deimos felt embarrassment burn his fair cheeks. "And I don't like being interrogated."
Cocking his head to the side while crossing his arms over his chest, Warren gave a dry laugh. "Interrogated? What the hell is wrong with you?"
Growling impatiently at the annoying human, Deimos gripped the golden railing harder. "Nothing. I just want to be left alone; that's all."
Narrowing his eyes at the boy, Warren squared his shoulders while he pulled himself up to his full height. If the elf was going to be stubborn and difficult then he would employ a different strategy. "As your commanding officer, I order you to answer me, Deimos." Pausing to take in the green eyes squinting in anger at him, Warren watched Deimos' body tense up. "What happened at the Keep?"
Contemplating his options, the young elf took several deep breaths; his posture aggressive and edgy. Eyeing the firm and serious expression on the older man's face, Deimos let a small sigh escape his lips. He knew his behavior was unfair to Warren; the man had only tried to help him over the months. To displace his anger and disdain on the warrior was unjust. "Look, Old School. I'm just tired. I don't know what you want me to say."
Sighing, Warren ran a hand over his drained face, glancing at the young elf. Leaning against the railing, Deimos had his arms crossed over his chest; defiance and rebellion swirling in his eyes. His face, however, was blank and lost; his expression silently begging the man to let the subject go. Getting the elf to talk was more difficult than he had planned. "Do you always lose your backbone when you talk with your father?"
The abrupt question taking him off guard, the paladin shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other; anger and frustration beginning to ebb back into his being. Setting his jaw, Deimos narrowed his eyes at the older man; his blood starting to boil from the question. "Screw you, Warren."
Grunting in frustration, Warren ran up the stairs after the insolent elf as he continued his enraged pace towards his bedroom. "Deimos! I'm not done talking to you!"
"This conversation is over."
Slamming his arm across the doorway to the young elf's chambers, blocking Deimos' path, Warren turned frustrated eyes at the rebellious paladin; only inches away from his face. The elf was slightly taller than the older man, forcing Warren to tilt his head back slightly to hold his stern gaze with the boy. Anger swirled in the green eyes that looked back at him, trying to conceal the embarrassment that was also present. "I should court martial you for your disrespectful attitude."
Swiftly breaking the eye contact with the older man, Deimos felt his cheeks flush with deeper embarrassment. Though he knew he was acting unreasonable to the man, he couldn't help the angered feelings at the questions; he was well aware of the truth behind Warren's accusing voice. Gritting his teeth, the young elf turned back to the man. "Fine. If I'm not allowed to go in my room, I'll leave for some privacy." Abruptly, the paladin turned on his heels, making his way towards stairs.
Watching with stunned eyes at the elf's continued defiant streak, Warren drew his brows together in utter amazement while Deimos took the stairs two at a time. While an outburst from the boy wasn't completely unheard of, the man was taken back by the ferocity of it. "Deimos!"
Reaching the front door, the paladin pulled it open with more vigor than needed; the hinges creaking in protest at being the object of the elf's fury. "Blow me, Warren. You can court martial me when I get back."
Brows up in surprise at the elf's words, the older man was completely speechless. Hearing the wooden door slam shut with a resounding noise, the man shook his head in dismay. Not completely ignorant, Warren had a notion of what was creating the moody emotions from the elf. However, he felt a surge of anger swell in his chest at the idea of one of his soldiers back talking to him in such a disrespectful way. Though, he mutely pondered, he didn't fully view their roles in the argument as officer-soldier.
Opening and closing his hands into tight fists at his sides, Deimos walked through the cobblestoned streets of the canals. The sun had long set; the full moon illuminating the still water in the center of the city with brilliance. The occasional ripple would disturb the water, the birds resting in the calm canals moving with the change of flow. Burning torches hung on the stoned walls of the city, the flames dancing across the elf's troubled face. The streets were nearly barren, the citizens of the city long retired in their homes for the night. The guards still patrolled the streets, each holding lit lanterns on their belts, determination and purpose in each of their dutiful steps.
Passing by a tunnel leading to the trade district, the young paladin was mutely aware of the quieting voices in the usually bustling district. The auction house had ended the day's mad dealings, though people were surely still complaining about the loss of a much needed item. Traders and merchants were beginning to close up their shops, while other's kept open in hopes of late night shoppers. The only activity that still seemed to be bustling was the sounds of customers in the taverns. Shaking his head in anger, Deimos contemplated entering one in hopes of drowning his worries in a strong alcoholic beverage.
He felt guilty and bad at the thought of the words he exchanged with Warren. The older man had simply been inquiring about his behavior; manners that would seem odd and strange for one not familiar with the elf's demeanor in Silvermoon. It was for that reason he felt more comfortable in Stormwind. Though the city lacked the familiar blood elves, Deimos reveled in the feeling of freedom. He was able to train and develop without the fear of his father's disapproval or dissatisfaction. The young elf had friends he could laugh and joke with; actions which were rarely done under his father's watchful eye. Sighing, the paladin knew once the week was over, the stress and pressure from the older Ares'mar would be gone.
His pointed ears picking up approaching footsteps from behind him, Deimos felt his posture tense. He figured his harsh words would have given the older human a hint that he longed for alone time. Clenching his teeth in anger, the paladin gave a deep sigh; it seemed Warren was determined to make the young elf continue the conversation. Stopping his walking, the paladin listened as the footfalls approached his back, a firm hand landing on his shoulder. Expecting such, the young elf brought his right arm around to grip the person's wrist, twisting it angrily while he turned around to face who he assumed was Warren. Eyes widening in surprise, Deimos felt a trained and impressively fast hand grip his own wrist that held onto his assailants other appendage. A strong thrust from the person caused the paladin to flip backwards; landing hard on his back on the stoned ground.
Swallowing hard and wincing at the pain that erupted from the assault, Deimos looked up into an amused face leaning over his sprawled form. Unnatural green eyes looked down at him, a smirk on the face. "Mema'dash inar'is." (That's a fine hello)
Wincing again in both pain and humiliation, Deimos gave a sheepish smile back at Brightwing; who extended his hand to the young elf. Gingerly accepting it, the paladin pulled himself upright, sending the older elf an apologetic look. "Ro, o'neiblu'a anore'meshawy." (Sorry, I thought you were someone different)
Laughing, the ranger-general clasped his hand on Deimos' back in a friendly manner, the two continuing their walk. "Don't worry about it. Though, I can only imagine who you wanted to direct your rage at."
Shrugging at the intended question, the younger elf kept his gaze evenly forward. They were entering the mage quarter; the torches being replaced with arcane lanterns. More activity was heard in the district, arcane students sitting on the groomed grass with school books opened. "It doesn't matter. Is the Keep nice?"
Rolling his eyes at the shorter elf's poor attempt to change the subject, Brightwing gave a motion with his hand to a wooden bench. "It's hospitable. However," pausing to sit on the wooden surface next to Deimos, the older elf offered him an entertained grin, "I hear that you've spent your own time in the Keep."
A grin going across his face, the paladin leaned back against the bench, his arms crossing over his chest. "Yeah, but I hope our stays aren't comparable. I doubt the king has you in a cell."
His eyes roaming the young elf's face, Brightwing chuckled at the comment. "No, indeed he doesn't. I also hear you've had experience in the Stockades."
"Unfortunately. I'm still curious as to why the Horde never destroyed that structure first during raids. Seems the most logical choice; you're most likely to end up in the prison if you get caught."
Taking a deep sigh, the older elf looked down at the grass, his eyes glazing over in thought. "There are a lot of things I disagreed with the Horde about." Pausing, Brightwing squinted his eyes while he carefully chose his next words; his look still inspecting the blades of grass beneath him. "Deimos, while most of the Sin'dorei were happy to dissimilate from the Horde, there are still many wary about joining the humans again. Lor'themar is in agreement to conclude with the negotiations with our race officially part of the faction, but like I said, there are some not certain. Your father is one of them."
Several beats passed, silence replying Brightwing's comment. Looking up from his reverie, the ranger-general lifted his eyes to inspect the silent young elf. Brows together in confusion, he ran his eyes over Deimos' face. The paladin sat, his gaze inspecting something in the distance, with a detached look in his eye. The shorter elf had an interested yet curious expression on his face; not alluding to hearing Brightwing at all. Lifting his brows up slightly in surprise and confusion at the odd behavior, the ranger-general turned on the bench to see what caught Deimos' attention. Smirking, Brightwing easily pinpointed the reason.
Sitting in the grass, her purple robe flowing around her was a high elf with long blonde hair. She had several books opened in front of her, blue glowing eyes full of concentration while she flipped through pages. A long staff sat on the side, the high elf continued with her studies unaware of the stare from the paladin.
Laughing loudly, Brightwing smacked the younger elf on the shoulder in a friendly manner several times, pulling the paladin from his trance to send a confused look at the ranger-general. A knowing and amused smile was spread on the older elf's face while he tilted his head in the direction of the high elf. "You're getting to that age, aren't you?"
Cocking his head in confusion, Deimos scrunched in brows in puzzlement at the older elf. "What age?"
The innocent comment only made the older elf laugh harder. "I'm sure you know about lying with a woman-"
"What?"
"-and I doubt you've ever been with a woman before-"
"-this is really awkward-"
"-but, you shouldn't be with a high elf, Deimos. You're Sin'dorei. And, you're still very young; you have plenty of time to be with a woman later. Now, I'm sure you've looked at many and have even-"
"-shut up, please-"
Pausing in his speech to look at the disgusted younger elf, Brightwing gave a big smile at Deimos. The utter horror etched across his face was enough reassurance that the deed wouldn't be completed for quite some time. Satisfied, the older elf grinned while leaning back against the bench; tilting his head forward at the high elf reading. "Who is she?"
Finding it hard to tear his disgusted gaze away from Brightwing, Deimos quickly glanced at the high elf in the distance. He had known her when he had first come to Stormwind months ago; their relationship had always been in turmoil. High elves and blood elves loathed each other; the high elf had no issue showing her detestation towards the paladin. "Her name's Elsharin. She's a mage trainer… and hates me."
"Good. Keep it that way."
As Deimos opened his mouth to reply, the two elves turned their heads as movement to the left caught their attention. Running towards them was a rogue, his face covered in utmost horror and fear. His cheeks flushed with exhaustion, the human's chest rose and fell as if he ran a couple miles. Jumping to their feet instinctively at the state the man was in, both elves looked around for any indication of an attack; Brightwing's hand falling to his sword on his hip.
"Matheus! What's wrong?" Deimos frantically asked his friend as the human rogue stopped in front of them, leaning his hands on his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. Both Sin'dorei leaned in closer, concerned etched on their faces.
"Bet-Betsy!" The rogue was able to heave out between gasping breaths. "She…found… found… me and…Michelle...together. Hu-huge…mess."
Smirking at his friend's predicament, Deimos had to bite his lip to prevent the grin from spreading across his face. Matheus had always been quite polygamous when it came to women, Deimos often scowling at the human's activities. Though the rogue claimed it took finesse and skill to be able to handle such a lifestyle. Obviously, it didn't always work out for the man. "We've…got…got to…go, kid. She'll…be… here soon."
Moving his amused eyes from the panting rogue to Brightwing, Deimos' smirk turned into a smile at the older elf's expression. A brow quirked up in interest, the ranger-general regarded the human with a curious look before turning his amused eyes towards the young elf. "Eswyl'thali a'shar, Deimos." (You have interesting friends, Deimos)
Rolling his eyes, Deimos chuckled back. "A'ithbanuor'o roloani." (Tell me about it).
His eyes darting between the two elves, Matheus scrunched his brows together in confusion at the Thalassian words. "Does…does your friend… have… any ideas?"
The young elf nodded, a dark smile spreading across his face as he looked at the confused man. "Yeah, he thinks we should go to the tavern."
The older elf scowled at Deimos. "O'doreu inar'nimeinlu." (I didn't say that).
Sparing a quick shrug of his shoulders at Brightwing, the paladin turned his attention back to Matheus. "He thinks the Pig and Whistle Tavern would be best. And he even offered to buy us drinks for your troubles."
Pursing his lips in annoyance at the younger elf's ploy, Brightwing lifted his brows up in mocking surprise. "Tuandothash?" He paused, taking in the amused paladin's face. (Really?) The ranger-general couldn't help but grin at the entertainment Deimos was getting out of the situation. Brightwing was accustomed to seeing the younger Sin'dorei train with his father; a scowl and angry look on his face throughout the ordeals. Happiness and cheerful spirits from the elf was a breath of fresh air for Brightwing. Sighing, he ran a hand through his long blonde hair. "A'shaorarlu'o malansu'aral shar." (You're lucky I have to go there anyways)
Grinning at the older elf, Deimos gestured to the still confused Matheus to continue walking out of the mage quarters. Shaking his head as he walked slightly behind the two, Brightwing couldn't help but begin to think stationing Deimos in Stormwind City was the best move they did for the boy.
"You come here often, Deimos?" Brightwing asked as the three entered the Pig and Whistle Tavern. Like the other taverns around the human city, it was bustling with activity. Older officers and veteran soldiers sat on bar stools; reminiscing about the old Wars and how the days used to be. The dusted and worn floor boards begged to be refinished; the cracked and rough wooden tables showing neglected upkeep. Lighted sconces hung on the walls, illuminating the large area with radiance.
"Every night. Neither me or Warren cook."
Lifting an eyebrow up as the older elf spared a curious glance at the paladin, the ranger-general gave a small chuckle. "O'mizaeshdu'a doreu'phoishamlu." (I'm amazed you're not dead)
Smirking, Deimos shook his head. "O'lo." (Me too)
His confused eyes darting between the two elves, Matheus cleared his throat to remind them of his presence. Grinning, Deimos signaled to a table tucked away on the side of the establishment; its vacant seats inviting to the young elf. Moving to follow the paladin, a familiar face on the other side of the tavern caught Brightwing's attention.
"Deimos, Warren's over there," the older elf replied, tilting his head in the direction of the human; sipping a clear glass of brown liquid. "Let's join him."
His green eyes glancing over the older man, the paladin gritted his teeth; he was still fuming from their previous argument. Warren, upon hearing his name, lifted his head from a stack of parchment resting in front of him curiously. Meeting the younger elf's annoyed gaze, the warrior kept his expression blank and unreadable; eyeing Deimos with anticipation. Noticing the odd behavior emitting from the two, Brightwing lifted his brows up curiously. "Is there a problem, Deimos?"
Pursing his lips in irritation as he broke the stare with the man, the young elf eyed the taller elf beside him. "You can go catch up with Warren. Matheus and I will sit over here."
A brow quirking up in surprise as he watched the younger elf lead the still distraught human to the lone table, Brightwing heaved a large sigh. While he was sure there was a story behind the boy's peculiar behavior, the elf doubted he'd get Deimos to admit the reason. Moving towards the waiting human at the table, the Sin'dorei smiled brightly at Warren.
"Lovely establishment."
Shaking his head while laughing as the elf sat next to him, Warren lifted an amused brow. "You just couldn't help yourself, could you? I forgot what you drink so I didn't order you anything."
Shrugging at the human, Brightwing noticed a barmaid making her way over to them. "Doesn't really matter. Though the way the day's going, particularly something strong."
The woman approached the two men with a large and giddy smile, her green eyes not taking their gaze off of Warren. She was in her mid-thirties; a tight skirt around her hips showing off her womanly curves. Her brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun resting on the top of her head, giving evidence to the busy night at the bar. Immediately, Warren straightened his posture, his shoulders rolling back to give off a stronger bearing. Noticing the change in demeanor from his friend, Brightwing smirked at the human.
"What can I get you?" The woman asked, forcefully tearing her lustful look away from Warren to glance at Brightwing.
"Whatever he's drinking is fine."
Nodding at the response, the barmaid sent a quick smile at Warren, who promptly returned it, before turning on her heels to follow through with the order. Unable to rip his gaze from her retreating body, the older man gave a deep sigh. It was no secret that he was courting the younger woman, her name Elly; the two having known each other for years. Only months ago, Warren had taken a bold move in their relationship; spending the night with her.
"So, Warren," the elf began, his amused voice pulling the older man from his love-induced trance. "I take it you never took a wife?"
Gripping the glass in his hands, the warrior spared a quick glance at the Sin'dorei with a shake of his head. "No, I had no time. Though, now I'm slightly regretting it." Pausing to take in the knowing grin on his friends face, Warren took a quick sip out of the lingering bourbon in his glass to hide the embarrassed look. "How about you? Wife or children?"
A deep sigh escaped the elf as he leaned on the wooden table on his elbows, his green eyes focusing on the surface in thought. "No wife. Though," the Sin'dorei paused, bringing his head up to eye the elf and rogue on the other side of the large room; Deimos and Matheus holding their own conversation. "Some days I feel like I have a kid."
Smiling in thanks at the glass of bourbon placed in front of the elf by Elly, Warren watched with interest as she moved over to the table Brightwing was gesturing too. Brows together in confusion and curiosity, the older man leaned forward; cocking his head to the side. "I don't mean to be intrusive, but what is the situation there?"
Lifting confused brows at the man, Brightwing tilted his head in perplexity at the question, wafting the bourbon in the glass before him. "Situation?"
Quickly eyeing the younger elf laughing with Matheus, Warren was careful to keep his voice low as he leaned in closer; a deep sigh coming from his body. "Tharsis and Deimos. We ran into his father in the hall after the assembly." Eyes going downcast as he recalled the elf's behavior during the day's event, the older man gave a small shake of his head in puzzlement. "Deimos seemed very-"
"Obedient? Submissive?"
Lifting his eyes up to inspect the Sin'dorei, Warren was surprised to see a pair of resentful green eyes looking back at him. Shifting uncomfortably at the intense gaze, the older man hesitantly nodded his head. "Exactly."
Swallowing hard, Brightwing ran a hand over his face; a dry laugh coming from his lips. "It's truly not my place to discuss it." Pausing to take in the warrior's face fall slightly, the ranger-general gave a small sigh. "What I can tell you is that his compliant behavior is from years of… intense conditioning."
"Conditioning? How so?"
Shaking his head at the ignorance Warren was demonstrating, the ranger-general directed his attention at the half filled glass of bourbon on the table. Swirling the liquid around, he only wished he asked for something stronger. "We both fought next to Tharsis. You know his brutal methods. Let's just say his parenting-style is in the same fashion."
Realization dawning into the man at the elf's words, Warren sent a quick glance at the paladin, who sipped wine from a goblet placed in front of him. "And you helped raise Deimos?"
Snorting at the question, Brightwing shook his head as he leaned back against the wooden chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Helped who raise him? Tharsis? He hardly wanted anything to do with the boy since he was born; I was the one that convinced him not to send him to the Shattrath orphanage. He only became interested in Deimos once he was old enough to hold a sword."
Eyeing the elf in front of him with confusion, the man shook his head. "Weren't you and Tharsis friends during the war?"
Rolling his eyes, Brightwing downed the rest of the brown liquid in the glass resting in front of him, a darkened look crossing over his eyes. "Yeah, well, our relationship got a little strained when his elfling was running away to my house because he beat him for dropping his sword or failing a drill."
Eyeing the younger elf at the other table for a second before turning back to Brightwing, Warren gave a small sigh. "If Tharsis is unfit to be a parent, why doesn't your government remove Deimos from his care?"
Sighing at the naïve question, the older elf leaned forward, instinctively careful to keep his voice low. "The Magisters don't give a shit about things like that. They'll enforce ancient laws that make no sense and feed lies to the citizens but when it comes to the well-being of an elfling, it's not their problems."
Biting his lower lip, Warren eyed the irritated look on Brightwing's face. It was painfully obvious that the ranger-general wasn't the least bit pleased with the subject of the conversation; his eyes glazed over with passive anger and fury. "So how do you help then?"
With a deep sigh, the Sin'dorei leaned back against his chair, a small smile going across his face. "I assigned him to Stormwind City, didn't I?"
Movement to the side of the table caused the two older men to turn their heads to inspect the new presence. Standing sheepishly with arms crossed over his chest, Deimos shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other while eyeing Warren. A shameful and embarrassed blush reached his fair cheeks as he nervously chewed his bottom lip. "Old School, I want to apologize for my… attitude earlier."
The warrior felt his brows shoot up to the ceiling in surprise, a small grin going across his face. Eyeing the young elf, the warrior found himself looking over Deimos in a different light; trying to digest the new found information from Brightwing. "An apology from you? This is new."
The sarcastic words only seemed to make the uncomfortable elf more on edge, his eyes darting to Brightwing for some sort of assistance. The older elf just stared back; face blank and expressionless. Setting his jaw at the lack of aid from his friend, the younger elf turned back towards the older man, trying with all his self-reserve to keep the cocky and arrogant look off his face. "I'm…tired and stressed."
"Are you apologizing or making excuses for your disrespectful behavior?"
Pursing his lips to conceal the smart retort that threatened to come out, Deimos had to remind himself it was still his commanding officer he was talking to. However, glancing over Warren's mixed emotional face, the young elf was curious as to the change in the man's demeanor. Eye's no longer flaring with anger or irritation at the elf, the warrior's gaze was an assortment of inquisitiveness and examination. "I'm not making any excuses, Old School. I just…" the paladin paused, his eyes glancing over at Brightwing; who continued to watch the flustered elf with a passive look. "I just need my space sometimes, alright? But I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm sorry."
Cocking his head to side, Warren gave a small smile. "How long did you have to practice saying that?"
Rolling his green eyes, Deimos uncrossed his arms while he gave a sigh. "A couple times. Was it really that bad?"
Smirking, the older man allowed his gaze to linger on the younger elf for several beats. From what he gathered and learned from living with Deimos for more than half a year, the young elf was relatively well-behaved. He was arrogant, brash, and cocky; however, the older man expected nothing less from a boy his age. Though the man never fathered any children of his own, the thought of a parent needlessly raising their hand to a child made his blood boil. Patting an opening at the wooden table, Warren's grin progressed into a wide smile on his face. "Take a seat with us. Tell Matheus to come on over too. Drinks are on me."
Motioning with his head to the rogue watching the group from his lone location, Deimos pulled the rickety chair out from the table. "Good because I was using your money anyways."
Heaving a deep sigh at the young elf, Warren gestured to Elly for another round of drinks for the table. It wasn't hard to obtain the barmaids attention; her green brilliant eyes fastened on the warrior in admiration. Seeing his request, she promptly began to fulfill it with joy of being able to approach the older man.
Watching as Matheus plopped himself down at the table dramatically, Warren gave him an amused look. "Bad night?"
"The worst."
Grinning ear to ear at the miserable look on the rogue's face, Deimos turned humorous eyes at Warren. "Becky-"
"Betsy."
"-found him and Marcy-"
"Michelle."
"-together. I guess it's a big mess now."
Laughing while shaking his head at the younger man's predicament, the warrior turned amused brown eyes to meet Brightwings'; who only shook his head in return. "Oh to be young again, huh, Warren?"
"Here you are," a female voice sounded, a long elegant arm placing the requested beverages on the wooden surface. Nearly spilling Matheus' mead down his front, Elly kept her longing gaze locked with Warren's; completely missing the unbelievable look the rogue gave her. Smiling lovingly at the older man, the barmaid nervously fingered the bottom of her white blouse. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
"I can think of a few things Warren would like."
Promptly backhanding the snickering young elf at the obscene comment, the older man kept his yearning and soft gaze held with the woman; giving her a wide smile. "I think this is good. Thank you, Elly."
Sipping the brown liquid in his glass, Brightwing watched with interest as his human friend kept his desiring gaze glued to her leaving form. Shaking his head, the Sin'dorei turned his green eyes to inspect the younger elf to the side of him. Lifting a delicate brow, he stretched a hand out to grab the wine glass out of the paladin's grasp, who was preparing to sip the liquid out of the goblet.
Brows together, Deimos regarded Brightwing with a confused look while the older elf inspected the liquid in the glass. "If you wanted to try it you could have asked, you know."
Placing the goblet down next to his own glass of bourbon, the older elf sent an amused look at Warren; completely disregarding the paladin's comment. Warren, also rather perplexed by the Sin'dorei's odd behavior, cocked his head to the side in confusion. Sparing a quick glance at Deimos' annoyed face, Brightwing gestured to the wine-filled goblet. "You know he's not technically old enough to drink alcohol, right?"
Brows shooting up in surprise at the information, the older man chuckled as a memory surfaced from months prior. "Yeah, we noticed when he passed out in a drunken stupor by the Keep."
"Light…"
Smiling deeply at the aggravated and annoyed younger elf's face, Brightwing gave a small laugh. "I suppose the laws here are different, though."
"Yeah so can I please have my drink back?"
Smirking at the impatient tone in the paladin's voice, the older elf gingerly pushed the filled glass closer to Deimos; who greedily grabbed it. Sipping the liquid, the younger elf whispered under his breath. "This week I'll need it the most…"