Crrr-unch.
Private Kennon sat lazily against the fence post, munching happily on his crisp apple. The skies were beautiful: bright blue and not a cloud in sight.
Squinting up in to the sun, Kennon smiled slightly as he chewed, drumming his fingers against the helm in his lap to the beat of some unheard song.
Mariella stood stock still, shoulders back and chest out, one gloved hand resting on the hilt of her blade.
"Y'know," Kennon said through a mouth full of apple. "Th'o esh'co thin' i'nt sho bad. No's dan'erous tho'd be."
"Pardon?" Mariella asked, not taking her eyes off of the men at the bottom of the hill. They picked bushel after bushel of apples. Their loud voices and laughter echoed up the grassy knoll to where the pair of guards stood watch. Or in Kennon's case, slouched. And ate.
Kennon squinted up at Mariella's rigid form.
"You must be hot," he said, motioning to her helm. She was relieved to hear he had swallowed this time. Mariella shifted uncomfortably. To be honest, she was dying to remove her helm. But personal comfort was out of the question. Besides, after the murloc incident, she wouldn't be making that mistake again.
"No, I'm fine," she replied stubbornly.
Kennon bit into his apple again.
"Why don' you si'down?"
Mariella fought the urge to roll her eyes.
"I was given the duty of watching over these men. I'm not letting my guard down for even a second," she replied, standing up even straighter as to prove her point. Though the pair of watchmen were two weeks into their escorting duties, Mariella had not faltered in her disciplined manners. Not even for a second did she want to relax.
Constant alert is what does a guardsman well, her sergeant back in Stormwind had said again and again. Mariella always took all of his directions to heart.
Kennon was silent for awhile as he snacked noisily on the piece of fruit in his hand. Below, the apple-pickers had moved off to another section of the orchard, though still visible from the top of the hill. A bead of sweat rolled down Mariella's left temple as she blinked against the harsh sunlight.
"Is it true? That you were trained in Stormwind?" Kennon asked suddenly.
"Yes."
"I've never been to the big city m'self. Born and raised right here in the foothills!" he said proudly, throwing an arm out to motion to the surrounding hills. "But I was shipped off to Refuge Pointe in the Arathi Highlands for trainin'. Then, they sent me to Southshore to serve under the command of good ol' Sarge."
Mariella remained quiet so Kennon continued talking.
"I bet Stormwind's really great. I heard the women are beautiful as the mornin' sunrise. If any of 'em look anything like that Lady Lorraine-" Kennon let out a low whistle, Mariella flinched. "Sign me up for the next caravan to the city!"
"There's a lot more to the city than snotty, corset-wearing, twits," Mariella snapped, her temper flaring up. Kennon raised his eyebrows up at her. His bandy legs were sprawled comfortably on the grass.
"You're right! I heard they've got the best pubs! I heard a couple o' the boys back at the barracks goin' on about some place called the Pig 'N Whistle. Said somethin' 'bout a dancin' barmaid and the cheapest drinks 'round!" he cried, throwing his hands in the air excitedly. One hand still clutched the eaten apple core.
"Men," Mariella muttered under her breath. She watched Kennon hurl the apple core behind them from the corner of her eye.
One of the farmers started up the hill toward them.
"We're about finished here!" he called, pausing halfway. "We'll be packed up and out of here shortly!"
"Alright! Let us know when you're ready, then!" Mariella yelled back. The man nodded and headed back down the hill.
She glanced down at her partner.
"Would it kill you to stand up? These men are supposed to feel protected by us," she grouched at Kennon, returning her gaze to the workers below.
Kennon only shrugged as he stared up at the sky. It was almost blindingly blue to Mariella.
"Looks like to me you've got a pretty good handle on all the standin' and the protectin' and whatnot," he replied dozily with an audible yawn.
How in Light's name did this man make it through training?
"Word is you and the Sarge've been sneakin' 'round together. That true?"
Mariella almost choked on her own spit.
"Of course not, no!" she balked, whirling around and practically diving on the lazy guardsman. He recoiled himself against the fence post, startled by her explosive reaction.
Her cheeks were on fire. She had never been so embarrassed before in her life. How was anyone going to take her seriously if they all thought the sergeant was bedding her?!
"By the Light, all you men must gossip like schoolgirls in your 'racks at night!" she cried dramatically, throwing her hands in the air.
"Alrigh', alrigh'! Just askin'! Heard some talk and I wanted to know if it were true, nothin' serious, Wendell," he said, relaxing slightly. But, Mariella wasn't ready to let this die so quick.
"From who? Who was talking?!" she barked.
Kennon looked unsure of himself for a moment.
"Some o' the boys and that busty barmaid... let's see... Linda, think her name was," he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
Mariella's jaw dropped.
That nosy cow and her loud mouth...
The guardswoman's fingers twitched, itching to close around her meddling friend's throat. She was going to pay Linda a visit as soon as they returned to town.
Even as she turned back to check on the farmer's, they were already packing their day's work onto to their horse carts.
This Sergeant business had to stop.