Chapter 3: Vyskania
Nightmares were not a rare occurrence for the Draenei of Azeroth. The detail with which a mind could replay traumatic events, down to the most minute detail left the survivors of The Exodar with a newfound relief for the distraction of grueling labor. Skilled warriors, magi, hunters, and priests took on secondary roles as carpenters, herbalists, surveyors, and even cooks. They dispersed throughout the Isles in two groups: one for the recovery the of superheated scraps that lay shattered across the lands and the other for the revitalization and survey of the islands .
Vyskania was part of the second group and, to her annoyance, she ended each day in her pod, unceremoniously scrubbing away the mud caked to her hooves. Eat, sleep, work. Had her parents been alive, they'd have looked down their noses at her lifestyle, nevermind the noble cause Velen stood for. But they were right. Ending her nights like this wasn't befitting. She considered the thought with a tinge of regret as she dressed for bed.
Joining the single most crucial force dedicated to securing a future for her race wasn't a mistake, but it made her realize how foolish she was. Every half-hearted protest made by her relatives to sway her from the decision to leave Draenor was defied out of principle. Except now, she wasn't sure which principles she set out to uphold.
Either way, it didn't change the fact that if she couldn't scrounge up a new pair of gloves soon, she would be digging through the red mud of Bloodmyst Isle with her bare hands. Just as Vyskania hung the tattered gloves to dry, a knock rattled the door. The force of it sent the flimsy walls of the pod quivering, as if caught in a tempest. She rose, reminding herself to let Lyri know that her home, despite its shortcomings, was wholly undeserving of the abuse inflicted upon it by her colleague's eager knuckles.
"I know, I know. It's late," Lyri said, stepping awkwardly past Vyskania to place a bundle on her narrow cot. "Do you think you can drop these potions off at Azure Watch tomorrow? Paaran will give you a ride to The Exodar, but you'll have to hoof it (she gave a light snort at the unintentional pun) from there."
It was at times like these that Vyskania wished she could speak. Muteness had an infuriating disadvantage in that it rendered her written responses ineffectual compared to the spoken words of others. Sure, she could underline the words "Hell no" or write them in bold letters, but even that seemed slightly comical. It was going to rain tomorrow and a hike through slippery undergrowth wasn't something she was going to let herself be convinced to do. At least not without some effort on Lyri's part.
Sensing her hesitance, the priestess added, "If you go, you won't be left fetching slime samples with the others."
Vyskania cocked a surprised eyebrow in response. Damn, she had forgotten about that. Truly, cleaning the transdimensional latrines was better than slime collection, but she wasn't about to give away her bargaining rights just yet. Removing the water-stained notepad from her pocket, she scribbled:
Fine. In exchange for a new pair of gloves—not the ones you fished out of the river last week either.
"Of course! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, th--"
The resulting thank-you's were muffled as Lyri flung her arms around Vyskania, oblivious to the day's accumulation of dust and sweat that clung to their clothes. When she finally disengaged (after a few awkward pats), her tired face was transformed by a smile so bright that Vyskania felt the corners of her own mouth twitch upward in grotesque imitation. Ever cheerful, Lyri had a way with raising the spirits of those around her with uncanny ease. Priests referred to it as "positive bedside manner," but even that term didn't fit. Manners were a learned behavior that one mastered with age, whereas Lyri was..Lyri.
After a few moments of silence, Vyskania flipped the notepad over to write another message. With every stroke of the pen, her heart beat faster. The question had been on her mind for more than a few days but she had allowed her current survey mission to distract her from her anxiousness.
Did you learn anything?
Lyri's gaze flicked downward to rest on the message, her beautiful childlike face shadowed with pain. At once, Vyskania felt a stab of guilt for bringing up the issue. She had no excuse. There was such thing as not thinking before one spoke, but writing at least gave her the upper-hand when it came to choosing the right words. It was already obvious that she hadn't discovered the cause or a cure for Vyskania's muteness. The news of it didn't upset her; she half-expected it. Everyone, from traveling wisewomen to learned anchorites shrugged and smiled apologetically, each proffering their own vague explanations as to why a perfectly healthy child would lose the ability to speak.
"Sometimes, people's voices get frightened away. Maybe when your parents died.." Lyri began slowly before trailing off.
A flash of anger darkened her cheeks and Vyskania struggled to remain calm despite herself. It wasn't fair. She remembered what it was like to speak, to sing. The death of her parents, something that happened when she was just a child, couldn't possibly have had such an lasting impact on her. Especially not after nearly ten years of silence.
"I know you don't want to believe it, but it may be true. There's nothing physically wrong with you—at least not that I can see. Whatever reason for it might lie in the mind. This doesn't mean I'm going to give up searching. We don't exactly have much literature on anything, much less muteness. I really thought I could find the answer, Kania."
Vyskania shook her head forcefully in response, the previous feelings of guilt evaporating as anger and betrayal filled their place. How could her best friend take the side of perfect strangers? If the only person who knew her best came to the same conclusion as everyone else, did that mean she was just crazy? She drew a trembling breath before raising her head to face Lyri. The priestess' face was the perfect image of innocent shame, as though she were a child who'd just been caught in a fib. If such was the case, then Vyskania was the indulgent parent, unable to harbor any lasting anger in the presence of earnest humility. It wasn't worth lashing out when it was clear that Lyri had only meant to offer the most logical explanation.
I'm not angry. The situation..less than tolerable, but I'll manage. Goodnight.
Even her handwriting wasn't good at lying. The staccato lines of the words were reminiscent of a ransom note at best. After they said goodnight, Vyskania lay awake, suddenly grateful that she would alone in the company of her thoughts during tomorrow's journey.
"If I may, sister," the Elekk master said the next morning, unbuckling the sword at his side and handing it to her. "The forests, as you know, can be very dangerous."
Confused, Vyskania gestured to the dagger securely strapped to her leg. Paaran, kindly as he was, had an overbearing father-like quality that was as annoying as it was thoughtful. With the physique of a stone pillar, he towered over her. His skin was the palest shade of gray that, at present, matched the overcast sky above. The stolid expression he usually wore lightened with amusement when he saw the small dagger.
"It's a fine dagger, if you're harvesting herbs," he teased gently. When she answered with an indignant huff, his features softened, "Would it matter if I told you that it'd ease my worries?"
She took the sword without complaint, pulling the strap through the buckle to the last notch. Even then, it hung loosely around her, clanging against her thigh when she moved. Wonderful. Maybe the droves of Blood Elves that lurked throughout the woods would mistake the sound for a cowbell. Irritating as it was, she felt relieved at having a decent weapon—nevermind that she wasn't skilled with it. She tried to keep up on her combat lessons, but as seasons changed and the sun set earlier, it was hard to still have time for practice. Amongst the overwhelming number of Velen's fighters, she was part of the minority that had not specialized in a class. Though she had elementary training in most aspects of swordplay, she achieved very little in way of being able to actually do harm to another.
If worse came to worst, she could just wave the sword around and hope it was enough to scare off the Sin'dorei pigs. Assuming they were as cowardly as everyone claimed them to be, it couldn't possibly too hard a task.
"Vyskania," Paaran said uneasily, casting a sheepish glance at her. "If you like, I can cancel my appointment and escort you there myself."
No. She mouthed the words to him, hoping he was able understand so she could avoid wasting her precious few scraps of paper to tell him that he shouldn't worry. With a disappointed smile, he nodded in understanding before taking the reins in his hands and whistling his large mount forward. The beast grunted and lumbered forward, its massive body carrying its master away with surprising speed. As Paaran disappeared in the distance, Vyskania saw him turn in his saddle and glance back in her direction.
Shrugging the bundle over one shoulder, she set off. Merchants on their way to The Exodar passed her, their wagons jostling noisily against the crude path. A few nodded politely to her, but most were lost in conversation with each other or half-asleep. Sleep. It was something she was going to need a lot of tonight. The damp air sought its way past her worn cloak, prickling her skin with its icy touch. Had she known that Azeroth would be such a damnably cold planet, she'd have at least dressed accordingly. Mended cast-off robes were barely cutting it as the rainy season took charge of the Isles. Or she could follow Lyri's advice and take a boyfriend for warmth. The thought of inviting a man to the tin can that was her home amused her slightly. She herself was barely able to stand fully upright without her horns grazing the ceiling. The thought of the well-muscled men of her race attempting to maneuver her tiny pod, while funny, left her disappointed. With most of the men holed up in barracks, there was nowhere proper to be comfortably alone. This was evidenced by the occasional sounds of pleasure she heard in the fields while coming home from surveying. The fact that people still had the energy to make love after a grueling day's work was a mystery to her. She had never been with another, but she wasn't sure she'd be inclined to lie with a man after handling a basket of fel cone fungi.
As she crossed the bridge, a drip of rain stung the tip of her nose. Groaning inwardly, she looked up at the mass of heavy gray clouds coalescing in preparation for a torrent of rain. The potions would be fine, but she wasn't dressed warmly enough to handle more than just typical rain. The single raindrop soon turned into a light shower, matting her cloak against her soaking hair. Gods, this was just her luck. The bread she packed for her lunch would likely be a spongey mess if she kept going at this rate. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the unfamiliar forests for shelter. Tying the hood of her cloak tightly in place, she ventured off the road into the forest. She knew better than to sit beneath a tree, but her field of vision was decreasing rapidly as the rain began to pour down in blinding sheets and she had to get somewhere quickly.
Venturing deeper into the woods, she fought through the bushes and branches that clawed at her mercilessly. Color fled from her face as fear and cold slowly took possession of her senses. The possibility that she could die here and never be found was increasing by the moment. The sound of thunder interrupted the already deafening hiss of rain, accompanied by wild flashes of lightning in the distance. Not bringing Paaran along had indeed been stupid of her.
An hour or two must have passed, but she had no measure of how long the storm had been raging. Vyskania pressed her numb fingers to her lips, hoping her warm breath would restore sensation to their frozen tips. Sinking against a the base of a tall pine, something she wouldn't have done an hour ago, she curled up with her cloak around her. Thoroughly soaked, teeth chattering, she let exhaustion win out for a few moments' rest.
A/N: Thank you to all who commented! I found this chapter especially challenging to write and I think some of you can emphathize with situations where you reallllyy want to write about your favorite character, but need to expand onto the ones. :P If you enjoyed this story (or didn't!), please let me know! Your comments are valued and appreciated.