Straydog Saga
Author Note: Another year down! Have a happy, safe new year everyone! I did my best to get this done for new years eve, so my usual, super-generous saint of a beta reader and editor hasn't gotten the chance to look at it yet. Any spelling errors and typo-o's will be fixed retro-actively. To that nice person who left me a marriage proposal in their last review: Take me out to dinner first, sweetie. ;)
Flea 40: Who Wants to Live Forever?
Setharion felt himself drowning in madness. The thick, gelatinous purple liquid churned around his mind-prison as the elder dragon struggled to keep himself afloat. As his physical form lay motionless in a Mydrassil bed, his spirit seemed to struggle to survive an assault by madness itself.
His talons reached to grasp onto something, some semblance of sanity or sense of self, but there was only stale air to meet him. With a snarling roar, Setharion kicked as hard as he could, sending himself far enough from the violet mire for his wings to unfurl. Despite their majestic span, there was no ocean wind to lift him and the great push only served to sink him father.
"I-I will not!" Setharion grunted as his maw dipped beneath the churning deep, causing him to taste the foul insanity. The burning liquid caused him to gag. His flailing talons managed to steady themselves and slash the water beneath, propelling him forward. His hazy vision caught a spec on the horizon: a towering structure that seemed to pierce the sky fay beyond the limits of what his eyes could take in.
With all the strength he could muster, Setharion swam, and swam, and swam for what seemed like an age. The towering structure did not seem to move, but Setharion felt no closer as he struggled to remain on the surface of the maddened purple water. He could feel something brush up against the pads of his talons, causing his eyes to widen in understanding and his legs to work faster.
The coiling things, which flailed and snaked from the ocean floor, seemed to move with purpose towards the black dragon. With a strained snort, Setharion kicked and slashed at the grasping tentacles as they weaved and evaded his strikes with seeming effortless ease.
"You shall not CLAIM ME!" Setharion roared as a few of the grasping tentacles moved to snare his hind quarters. Setharion felt himself halted as the terrible tentacles started dragging him under. He took a massive breath as he felt the water overtake him, little light piercing the violet ocean below. Sethation twisted and clawed, doing his best to bend far enough to cut himself free.
With four successive slashes of his razor-sharp talons, the agents of corruption relinquished their grasp with a sickening hiss. With a gasp, Setharion returned to the surface, and resumed his desperate swim towards the endless mountain.
When it seemed he finally covered some distance in the mad sea, a voice began to take hold of his mind that was not his own.
"Futile, your efforts are futile…" It calmly hissed. Setharion snarled and closed his eyes a moment. "We shall take care of you. Stay your movement, let us claim you…"
"Get out of my mind!" Setharion demanded as he focused his vision on the mountain ahead. The strong peak, the obsidian stone, and the shining reflection served to settle his shifting mind as the voice grew louder.
"Succumb! Your death is imminent. We can grant you eternal life, a life that will be taken if you return to the waking world. The Aspects will lose their power; you will lose your immortality. We can stay your fate!"
"Silence! You speak lies," Setharion roared.
"Then…if you will not join us willingly…" the voice coyly stated. Setharion's heart sank as great, barbed tentacles came from the sea and began coiling around the sturdy black mountain. Stone by stone the structure crumbled, torn to pieces by the agents of corruption until the hallmark of stability in the terrible sea was nothing more than memory.
"N-No." Setharion's trembling talons began to shake from fatigue. The symbol of sanity was stripped away as the giant tentacles began to twist and flail until they seemingly found their target. Setharion pushed himself up, concentrating and gathering a great fireball in the pit of his maw, and prepared to face his mind's ending. He loosed the fireball with all his remaining strength, but the attack seemed to little more than singe the giant tentacles.
Just as the agents of madness moved to strike, Setharion was blinded by a golden light. The ball of light, as brilliant as the sunwell itself, fell into the scene like a setting sun. Beams of light shot from the light-ball like arrows, tearing into the massive tentacles until they sunk, shredded into the maddening abyss.
The waters themselves seemed to steady in the presence of the golden being as Sethation found he needed less effort to keep his head above water. When the light finally dimmed and Setharion's sight returned the sight of a human made of the light itself met his vision. The human-seeming being, who introduced himself to the High Mystic Keesha Hazzad as 'Net' smiled to the struggling dragon as he began to let his form unravel.
Setharion watched as the light-bathed being swelled to enormous proportions. When the transformation was complete, a great dragon made of light, glistening stone, and clouds hovered just above Setharion, whose eyes recognized the face he had imprinted on in his whelp-hood.
"Father? I-It cannot be…" Setharion weakly spoke as the strange light-dragon cast him a sad smile.
"It can, and it is, my son. Thanks to you and your mate, my spirit is cleansed but bound to the Mystic Tree," The dragon, formally known as Neltharion and then Deathwing informed.
"T-Then it worked? The roots stripped the corruption from your remains?" Setharion asked, mind momentarily turning to the small, secret shrine within the Tangled Canal.
"Yes. No old god or ambitious cultist can use them for their foul purposes ever again. My mind, my very essence is cleansed of the madness that gripped me for so long; the same madness that seeks to claim a new champion. While this revelation may seem important, I am here on a more urgent errand," the cleansed spirit of Neltharion sadly sighed. A silence passed between them as Setharion felt a cold sensation grip his chest.
"Father, deliver me from this fate! I cannot become corrupted. My children…my mate, I cannot fail them! Heal me, father. H-Help me!" Setharion spoke with desperation and fear never heard outside the fortress that was his mind. Neltharion sadly shook his head.
"My son, my noblest of children, who resisted my evil, vile taint for so long…though you have done much for me, there is little I can do to save you in the manner you wish to be saved. I am afraid, your only salvation can be found in the light-"
"NO, NO, NO! I cannot perish! It can't end this way! I will not let it!" Setharion roared, angrily kicking about in the water, finding nothing solid to punish for his current predicament.
"I fear this is not in your control. It is by Mydrassil's power and the flows of broken fate that we are afforded this moment. I can pull you from the madness; take you away from this place…"
"What of my family? Ori, Terro, Inge…they will be alone with those fools, those small minded fools. How can I leave my mate to an eternity of alienation and loneliness? There must be another way! Pull me from the waters and we shall fly back to them!" Setharion's voice broke as his ability to keep swimming seemed to wane.
"My son, do you realize where you are?"
"In the twilight realm, this must be their foul dimension!" Setharion grunted in frustration. Neltharion gave a sad sigh before speaking.
"No, dear child. We are not in the twilight realm. We are in your own mind."
"W-What?"
"It is all that is left. Your consciousness is all that remains free of the twilight taint. If you were to awaken, it would only be a matter of moments before the poisons that have claimed your body would claim your mind as well," Neltharion snorted as he cast a beam of light to a slithering tentacle just below the surface of the water. "Though it will not be long until the waters of madness take you despite my intervention."
"Then…I have already failed them," Setharion said with a hollow pang in his words. Neltharion closed his eyes and seemed to take a deep breath.
"My son, I shall risk my very essence in telling you this, but if it is what I must do to save you from your fate: then to oblivion with me!" Neltharion nodded and looked his son square in the eye. Setharion felt his breath catch in his throat as his father began speaking.
"There is a plan; the threads of fate have already been pulled for you and your mate. Your lives have been filled with misery and duty, little time for anything other than unrewarding toil. The holes in time, forged by Hollus Fenweaver, as dreadful as they are, have facilitated your rebirth, and hers. With this blessing, there is a price however. You will never know yourself or of this life. You will not know your mate as she is now, but you will know one another's love. You must listen and accept the gift I present to you. Please, Setharion, it is your only option save madness," Neltharion humble and patiently pleaded.
Setharion let out a defeated cry. He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if desperately trying to rid himself of the nightmare. A grave sense of loss and despair rose in his trembling form, as all that he'd worked for, all joy and happiness, however small, seemed to grow distant and fade into nothing. Then, softly and clearly, the image of his beloved managed to appear through the corruptive waters and painful memories. Setharion steadied himself and looked to his father with watery vision.
"Is she…will she perish alone? Will she curse me in her final breath?" Setharion nearly whimpered in the closest thing to a pained sob a dragon could manage.
"That I cannot know, I am not the steward of time, after all, but from what I have seen through the mystic tree's influence…I highly doubt it will be the case," Neltharion softly informed. Setharion bobbed in the choppy water as the sensation of a tugging current came to his lower body.
"If you deceive me, I will find a way to make you suffer for your treachery!" Setharion asserted as he lifted a talon from the churning sea. Neltharion sadly smiled as he reached for his fallen son, gently grasping the younger's unsteady talon. The inner light radiating from Neltharion began to pulse as the violet sea seemed to scream in desperation, tugging futilely on its captive.
When the light reached its peak, Setharion found himself blinded once again, though unlike before there was no pain, no confusion or sense of dread. There was no sea, no sound, and no sights. There was only the light and the pulling of time's fickle threads.
Gawain Redmane, Romulus Redmane's nephew and arguable bane, woke with gasp-inducing heat in his chest. His gold-tinted, hazel eyes shot open as the smell and wet sensation of salty sweat entered his senses. The human-bodied, red dragon quickly sat up and, upon placing a trembling hand over his chest, realized that his night robes, as well as his bed sheets were covered in his night-terror residue. He pulled back several drenched locks of his long, ruby-colored mane and attempted to slow the rapid thumping in his chest.
The nightmare still scraped at his young mind, but the details seemed to quickly recede the more awake he became. The muddled water, terrible gripping appendages, and vague burst of light were all that remained of the horrible dream as the misfit dragon mage swung his long, thin legs over the edge of the bed and began conjuring a glass of water.
A shifting on the other side of his bed caused the student to look over his shoulder and quicken his bright-fingered casting. He let out a soft sigh as his bedfellow stirred.
"Hmm, wha? Gawain? Wha are you doin' 'wake? Why's the bed all wet?" The sultry woman with long, black hair and pouty lips sleepily asked while rubbing a fallen eyelash from her left eye.
"I had an intense dream."
"Mmmm? What about?" the pale-skinned human woman asked in a voice still half-stuck in the throes of peaceful slumber.
"I...I can't really remember, at all actually," Gawain admitted as his mind tried to grasp at the last lingering images as they seemingly faded into the unreachable depths of his dreaming mind. "All I know is that is scared the fireballs out of me."
"Well, we're awake now. Whhhhhat time is it?" the woman asked, looking to the window for an answer. The sight of a light-touched pre-dawn and the sound of waking birds met her ears as Gawain took a huge gulp of water.
"Nearly dawn. It's alright; I'm wide awake now anyway. Might as well get up and get ready," Gawain sighed and stood to stretch his thin, gangly frame. When he heard a pop in his spine and felt the satisfied rush come, Gawain smiled and turned to look to the woman whom he had shared a bed, or sometimes nest, with for the past three years. He felt something spark within, as warmth began radiating across his entire form. The woman in his bed raised a brow as the shine in his eyes entered her sleepy, but still sharp perception.
"What are you looking at?" She said with a playful, mock-surly tone. Gawain smirked, eyes still shining with purely sensual intent, as he quickly moved to his mate's side. He chuckled a little, as his face came close enough to kiss his beloved on the forehead. "Gah, get off me, you stink! Take a bath." She weakly fought the sweaty assault as her younger beau persisted.
"I love you so much, you know that right?" Gawain softly asked with a mixture of affection, longing, and sheer bliss in his eyes. His bed fellow's eyes became suspicious as she slightly jerked backwards from his sight.
"A-Are you feeling well or do you want something?"
"I'm feeling wonderful right now. My uncle is 1000 leagues away, I'm alive, and I have the most beautiful female in the world in my bed. I have everything a humble male could ever ask for," Gawain whimsically spoke.
"Aauuugh, where's my toothbrush? My teeth are rotting," Gawain's lover reactively gagged. Despite the cold action, her defenses were window glass in his piercing eyes. As Gawain moved to tickle her human-formed vulnerable spots, his lover finally submitted to the warmth and bliss that seemed palpable in the morning air.
"Ok-Ok stop! You win! STOP-HAHAHHAHA!" Gawain's red-faced mate desperately reached for one of her firm pillows and proceeded to strike her lover about the head. Gawain finally relented and all memory of the dreadful dream seemed completely forgotten.
"Uhhg, now I'm awake. It's the weekend, why am I awake at the rump-crack of dawn on a weekend, you little freak?" Gawain's mate moaned as she attempted to slink back under the plush, Dalaran-violet covers. Despite her best efforts, the salty smell of her lover's acrid, human-disguise-facilitated sweat forced her to the waking world once again. She looked to Gawain, who was preparing himself for the bath, and smiled.
"What are YOU looking at?" Gawain mockingly spoke with an excessively boyish tone.
"A scrawny, immature, red-scaled doodler," she shot back with a slightly upturned nose.
"Yeah, well, you picked me."
"…touché," Gawain's mate conceded as she rose and began stripping the sweat soaked sheets from the bed.
"Isn't that your apprentice's job?" Gawain asked as he tossed his sweaty night robe into a small hamper near the bedroom door. He couldn't help but smirk at the mental image of the young human mage, employed by his lover and who often gave Gawain's human persona a hard time, diligently doing his mate's dirty work.
"He's on break, if you've forgotten. With this new…assignment I'm unsure if I'll even be returning to work in time for the next semester. I've fallen way behind on my research as it is," Gawain's lover sighed.
"Are you sure that isn't a blessing? I mean, we won't have to perform for the masses as much as usual. So long as my father insists on making me play the part of a student… Plus we won't have uncle jackass breathing down our throats either." Gawain grunted as she shook the unpleasant thought of his uncle from his consciousness.
"Here I thought you red dragons all held talons and sung love-songs. And I don't consider battling mad dragons a blessing, but I see your point. At least you'll be safe here until I return."
"Oh I have no intention of letting you go alone."
"Gawain we discussed this. Your uncle wouldn't-"
"To hell with the self-righteous, haughty bastard," Gawain shouted with an intensity rarely seen from the young, red dragon. His lover felt her body frozen, almost captured by the intimidating stair, as a rare rush of cold raked against her spine.
"Ga-Gawenostrasz, what's gotten into you?" she asked with surprise in her usually solid voice. Gawain himself could not explain the intense feelings rushing into his mind, but the instinct to protect his lover seemed to overtake the usual submissive tone he often displayed in her presence.
"You will NOT leave this place without me at your side, Holly. If anything happens to you…" Gawain's voice, though firm at the start, collapsed under the influence of his bleeding, romantic heart.
"I am Hollyxia, broodling of Lord Wrathion, eldest child of the untainted black flight, and red dragon conqueror extraordinaire! No Twilight dragon or any other force of the old gods will take me down," the sensual, human-bodied dragon, who called herself Hollyxia, confidently spoke as she moved to stand in front of her de-robed lover. She placed a soothing hand on his cheek, seemingly wiping away the terrifying gaze that shot from his eyes like piercing arrows. All that remained in his twin-hazel eyes was fear and trepidation.
Neither knew the fates of their previous existence, nor of the carefully pulled threads in time that allowed their second birth before their former selves' deaths, but the fear and dread seemed to provide an unnoticed clue. Gawain pulled her to him and buried her face in her fragrant shoulder, moving slightly to kiss her soft neck. Hollyxia felt herself flush a little at the touch as her resolve escaped with a hissing sigh.
"If you feel so strongly, you may follow me into battle-but you better not get in my way or I'll cut you down with my foes! Then I'll have a nice new pair of ruby dragon boots, and perhaps a hand bag, a matching coat, maybe a nice hat-" Holly shrieked as her mates tickle-assault seemingly resumed. After a few moments of playful banter the pair found themselves in the lavish bath, washing away the remnants of the night and all that remained of their previous, tragic existence.
"For the last time, you look FINE," Shandori grunted as the tiny figure beside her continues huffing and occasionally inspecting her gnomish person.
"Are you sure? Is my hair too orange? Are my teeth too big? Are my fingers too fat!"
"NO!" the small group collectively shouted, earning them a few scolding looks from passersby. The streets of Dalaran were in their usual bustling state as students finishing their break cram courses and tourists went about their business. The group had passed through the Borean Tundra without incident as their fellow would-be dragon slayers amassed in the magical city.
The Sunreavers and Silver Covenant alike were mobilizing, only a few remaining soldiers stayed to guide the Shepherds and other volunteers to their various forming grounds. The group of baggy-eyed travelers got in a long line in front of the Silver Covenant agents' table to receive further instructions.
"I wonder where they'll be sending us…" Lumigosa mused as she inspected the rag-tag force with a haughty stair.
"I dunno but ah, the word on the boat was we'd be sent to one of four places," F-bomb shrugged.
"I see, were any names mentioned?" Lumi asked as she looked to the goblin shaman beside her.
"Nothing specific, but we could be sent to south east Icecrown, near one of the old Argent camps, as far down as southern Dragonblight. It all depends…"
"Wherever we end up, I just hope we get shit done and get back to our lives," Christoffel grunted, his fel-deprived nerves seemed to irritate every spot of flesh on his slightly shaking form. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder as he turned to see Shandori looking to him with what seemed like concern. Christoffel nearly bit back the instinct to recoil from the friendly touch as he did his best to steady his breathing. "I'm fine."
"Hey, after this we can go get you a demon sandwich or something, sound good?" Shandori smirked. Christoffel took a deep breath as he let it escape along with an honest laugh.
"S-Sounds wonderful, but it'd have to be a little sandwich; trying to cut back," Christoffel responded with his best attempt at a smile.
"That's the spirit. There's about fifteen people in front of us now. We're almost done," Shandori assured. Soon enough the group stood before the Silver Covenant agents who asked for the strange group's names before taking a moment to look up from their long lists. One of the agents cast her brilliant blue vision to the blood elf in her sight and squinted.
"What do you think you're doing here?" She hissed in Christoffel's direction, causing the soldier beside her to cast a questioning look before turning his own blue vision to the small group standing just in front of the Silver Covenant assignment table. "Your table is on the other side of town."
"Hey lady, the blood elf's with us, no need to be rude, you know?" Shandori snorted, and quickly motioned to the papers lying idle on the table. "Name's Shandori. The gnome is Ima Ation, the goblin is Fab-Fabizzle-"
"Fabrizzia Bomberlock…" F-bomb frowned.
"Y-Yeah, Fab-rizzle Bomberluck. The human is Lumi and the blood elf is Christoffel Stingblade. How about you make with the assignin' already. We got a long line behind us," Shandori asserted while pointing a thumb behind her. Some of those who stood behind the group seemingly grumbled in support. The female high elf snorted.
"As you wish..." The high elf spoke, muttering something that sounded like a concealed insult in Shandori's keen hearing. She leaned forward and slapped her open, plate-gloved palms on the table causing both agents to jump a little and the ones standing behind them to reach for their weapons.
"You wanna start something, bitch? I'm not in the mood, alright? I mean, let's all be honest here, as a night elf I'd spit on your pink-skinned, blue-eyed ass too. What right do you have to say shit about him-"
"How dare you speak to me that way!" the female shouted in outrage as she moved to stand.
"Come on, come at me, twig!" Shandori shouted back, moving her arms out and to the side, welcoming a conflict with the woman who insulted her companion. The male at the table grabbed his co-worker's wrist before she could fully stand and reach for the sword at her hip and pulled her back down.
"Dori, it's not worth it. Let's let them do their job and get that sandwich afterwards, alright?" Christoffel softly spoke, pulling Shandori back and away from the table.
The male high elf looked to Christoffel then back to his paper for a moment with a blush. He returned his rosy vision to the remains of a handsome face that seemed somewhat familiar, though the blue eyes and blonde hair that used to adorn Christoffel's visage was long gone.
"Look if my name isn't on your list, I'll try my luck at the Sunreaver…what?" Christoffel asked with a slight uncomfortable chill running through him. The amorous look on the blue-eyed male elf's face made his skin crawl.
"Nothing, you just happen to resemble someone I used to know of…" the elf spoke as his vision slowly returned to the papers in front of him. As his eyes traveled, the name 'Stingblade, Christoffel' appeared with a star beside of. The high elf's vision traveled to the legend at the bottom of the page, looking for the footnote associated with the star. When his eyes took it in the information his heart seemed to skip a beat. The agent beside him cast him a questioning look as his vision rested back on the uncomfortable-looking blood elf.
"I-It can't be…Lord Dawnblade?" the young high elf asked with hope in his eyes. The shocked and exposed look in Christoffel's eyes was answer enough for the beaming young agent. "Sir, w-we do need to process you quickly but, if it isn't too much trouble, I'd like to speak with you before your group reports to your respective areas. Ledgermain Lounge at noon?" the male elf quickly spoke as he quickly found the other names before him and gathered their reporting notices.
"Um, s-sure?" Christoffel looked to Shandori who shrugged in response. Once the group received their instructions and moved to a somewhat less-crowded part of the sidewalk, they hastily unrolled their carefully prepared scrolls, eyes hungrily devouring their respective fates.
"I'm in Battalion 15-IC, bound for the Ice Crown formation grounds. I gotta report ta Chief Shepherd Violetina tomorrow mornin' How about you guys?" F-bomb asked, folding her scroll and placing it in her side back. Lumi shook her head with a sigh.
"I'm in Battalion 35-DB, on reserve. I guess they got more volunteers than they know what to do with. I'm to report to Wy-Wyrmrest Temple! Oh I'm in SO much trouble," Lumigosa whined.
"I'm in Battalion 9-DB-FA…I need to report to Trenton Crowise at Star's Rest tomorrow an hour before dawn," Shandori shrugged.
"Me too…" Ima and Christoffel spoke in unison.
"Well shit, it looks like we'll all be split up," F-bomb said with a slight hint of disappointment in her tone. She felt a strange pull in her chest as she thought about the wild and dangerous times she'd spent with Shandori and her weird group of random degenerates. The memories she'd gathered in her time with them, had all but replaced many of the painful memories of her loveless mothering days. "You kid's aren't allowed to get hurt, ya hear me? I don't need to be goin' ta no more funerals."
"Nah, us? We're too full of bitterness, bile, and angst to die, right?" Shandori smirked as she nudged Christoffel with her elbow. He grunted at the thought as the rumbling in his stomach seemed to overtake any discomfort the moment before brought.
The Ledgermain Lounge was bustling when Shandori and Christoffel stepped through the northern entrance. A frantic hostess, desperately looking for a spot to place another set of customer, looked to the pair and asked how many was in their party. Having shed a few members due to sight-seeing and other pre-battle prep needs, Shandori spoke the word 'two' and held up two fingers, in case her voice was lost in the noisy space. The hostess smiled as her vision caught a freshly-cleaned table towards the far end of the dining area.
"What sort of food do they have here? You ever eat here, Chris?"
"A few times, back when I was in the Silver Covenant. The food's decent," Christoffel shrugged while opening the menu which hadn't changed since his eyes were blue.
"I-I didn't know you were with the Silver Covenant. I didn't threaten to beat on old friend of yours did I?" Shandori said with a slight hint of worry in her eyes. Christoffel looked to the night elf sitting across from him and gave a small smile as he shook his head.
"No, no. I don't have any friends there anymore. I suppose I never really talked about it much with you but, it's not really something I talk about so…"
"It's alright. I know you don't like talking about emotional crap, especially not with, you know, a merc buddy," Shandori gave a hollow laugh and a small, equally empty smile as she lifted the menu up to hide the slight blush that was coming to her face. Christoffel's eyes shifted with a hint of guilt as he moved to speak.
"It's not that Dori…I just did a lot of things I'm not proud of since shit happened and, well I know you wouldn't care but, it…I just-I can't," Christoffel huffed in defeat. It was then the shadow of a well-groomed and handsome young elf fell over the table.
"Lord Dawnblade, Narlyn Dawnblade is it really you?" The deep, admiring voice asked. Christoffel turned to cringe in the shining vision of the Silver Covenant agent who had asked for the meeting earlier in the day.
"'N-Narlyn', really?" Shandori sniggered with a rise of her indigo eyebrow. Christoffel felt his palm move to his forehead as if it was more instinct than conscious action.
"Uhhhgh, yes. Do I know you?" Christoffel's menu-muffled voice groaned as the gorgeous male pulled a seat from a recently abandoned table over to their and sat.
"No sir, but I've heard of you and your brothers' valiant deeds during the war against the Lich King. I was there too but I was far too insignificant to warrant a meeting with you. Oh I am a huge fan!" The young elf gushed, voice cracking with youthful, if not slightly lustful worship.
"Ohh, this is the first I'm hearing about this. What all did the great NAR-lyn do, uh, what's your name?" Shandori asked. The elf proudly perked up and gave a slight, sitting bow before replying.
"My name is Flavius Sunspark, at your service, my lady."
"Of course it is…" Christoffel quietly mocked.
"Nice to meet you Flavius. Please, do go on," Shandori implored, casting a sideways glance to the blood elf who seemed to be looking for some means of escape. Flavius went on to describe Christoffel, then known as Narlyn Dawnblade's, grand exploits through Icecrown. Shandori felt herself occasionally gasp at a few of the claims, as time and again the nearly sparklingly, chipper young man spoke of her roguish companion bravely and heroically facing evil and triumphing over it in the name of the light.
"…his name is legend among many younglings like me but, sir, what became of you? What happened to change you in this way? We thought you had died…"
"I did. Can I order my damn lunch now?" Christoffel gruffly spoke, causing the younger man to give a small pout.
"Don't mind him, he's cranky," Shandori quickly informed as heroically idealized images of her scoundrel of a companion began flowing like a ribbon on the wind in her mind. "Please tell me he rode around on a white horse and had shiny pale armor and stuff right?"
"Actually yes. His horse was a fine, high-bred mare named…um…wait I know this-"
"Her name was Firefly-wait, why the hell am I talking to you?" Christoffel stopped himself from engaging further as the waitress finally arrived to take his curt order of a roast beef sandwich and ale.
"T-That's right! And she had battle armor which matched the winter snow…but in the few glimpses I managed to get of Lord Dawnblade, I saw flowing waves of blonde hair beneath his helm…" Flavius recalled with a slight blush.
Shandori cast a soft look to the visibly agitated blood elf as he looked about the hectic restaurant for their waitress. Neither could see the layers of tragedy that marked Christoffel's sorted past but both ignorant elves seemed to sense better than to continue the conversation.
"Well while I'm sure Chris…Narlyn is really flattered to have such a huge fan singing his praises, we've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow and we're both kinda hungry..."
"O-Oh of course, I'm terribly sorry. I really do appreciate you taking the time to indulge me. I-I've just aspired to be as great as the Dawnblade brothers since I was a boy. I never dreamed I'd ever meet one," Flavius gushed. Shandori waved as Flavius quickly stood, gave a firm salute to his childhood hero and half-scampered off to tell the other young recruits of his discovery.
Shandori smiled at his back as the sensation of dagger-eyes stabbing her form brought her attention back to the scowling Christoffel.
"What? Oh come on, that was too cute. I wish I had fans, 'Lord Dawnblade.'" Shandori admitted with a laugh.
"Don't call me that," Christoffel spoke with a warning tone. Shandori cast him a concerned look as his reddened face came to rest in both hands. "Thanks to twinkle-toes everyone's going to find out I'm not dead. Who the hell knew my old na-fucking Han! He did this," Christoffel furiously accused.
"What's the big deal-"
"Some spoiled little girl with nothing to lose and something to prove wouldn't get it, so just stop talking," Christoffel's misdirected, venomous words seemed to cause the night elf to flinch as if viciously wounded. Christoffel's fel-agitated vision softened as he quickly apologized. "S-Sorry…"
"You know what? I don't need your shit; I have dragons to kill. You got to be somebody once, and hearing all that I got a bit jealous, you know? But what do I know? It's not like I ever got to be a hero, someone little kids could look up to. It's not like I was worth telling all that to, right? I mean I thought we-whatever, you can have fun wallowing in your own angsty bullshit, alone," Shandori spoke with trembling emotion as the warmth she exhibited only a moment before seemed to drain from her form.
Though many insults from family had clouded her hearing over the years, Shandori could always deftly deafen herself to the horrible noise and reply with a smirk or a quip. Christoffel's remark, though explainable in her quick and reasonable mind, seemed to not only come in clear but echo in her skull. She quickly stood and wordlessly walked away.
"D-Dori! I didn't-shit," Christoffel cursed, tossing a few gold coins on the table just as his warm, tasty sandwich was delivered. His pleading words didn't seem to reach the night elf, whose own wounded heartbeat thundered so loudly, she could hear nothing else. Though they were merely business partners in name, the wordless feelings that seemed to flow between them appeared to give her false illusions.
The trembling woman seemed so solid beneath layers of plate armor, that her pursuer didn't notice the small tears that began to form beneath a furrowed brow. Shandori didn't bother to wipe the salty tear that obscured her sight as she cursed her weakness and did her best to lose herself and her perceived betrayer in the thick crowd.
Christoffel felt his breath burn as he deftly swam through the river of people. Though she was fleet-footed, Shandori's well-worn and clanking armor worked against her during her pained escape. Her long, indigo hair acted as a constant flag, waving the rogue in her direction. She came to a small area where grass and goldenrod grew just outside a circular street filled with shops and services and exited the street. She walked towards a small but sturdy tree and leaned against its smooth body.
Christoffel sunk into the shadows and watched as small tears fell onto her violet cheeks but were quickly wiped away. His heart nearly leapt into his throat at the sight. He carefully walked closer, slowly emerging from the shadows as the soft sound of a crying mouth caused his own eyes to hold a small, wet shine.
"D-Dori?" He softly, gently called. The rogue's eyes shot open as the vulnerability so beautifully displayed on Shandori's crying face quickly shifted to a look of hate as a swift, plated fist came in his direction. Christoffel stumbled, back bumping against a sound-wall along the side of the small grassy area, and closed his eyes in anticipation of a black eye, broken nose, or soon-to-be-missing teeth.
He felt a slight, quick breeze come across his cheek as he opened his eyes to see a plated arm beside his face, fist a hair's distance from the wall.
"Y-You missed," he nervously laughed, eyes searching for any of the night elf's usual humor. When he found none, he looked away with a sigh.
"I didn't miss," Shandori spoke with invisible frost flowing from her lips.
"Dori, I'm sorry I-I don't know why I said-"
"Stow it. I know you didn't mean it," Shandori sighed as she backed off, allowing the rogue to stand and exhale the breath he didn't know he was holding. "Maybe we're just spending too much time up each other's asses or something. I've been pissing you off a lot lately and I get it. I'm annoying; sorry I'm not up to your standards-"
"That isn't it at all!" Christoffel shouted, causing a few people around the grassy area to pause and look.
"Well what is it then? Ever since I got back from Wyrmrest you've been acting like an asshole. I mean I just got done defending your ass from that stuck-up twig and you have the balls to say that shit to me? What's been up with you-"
"It's because I...I ah-damn it Dori! Why are you so dumb about this shit? You're a woman, for light's sake! Aren't you supposed to be good at this crap?" Christoffel shouted back. This time Shandori's angry look shifted one to utter confusion as her lips clumsily tried to respond.
"W-What the hell are you talking about, make sense!" Shandori weakly spat. Both were so involved in their shouting match they didn't notice the small but growing, curious crowd forming around them.
"Did you ever stop and think for one freakin' moment that maybe I CARE about what happens to you? That letting you fall was the single worst moment of my miserable life? Thinking about you being dead or picked apart by fish nearly drove me mad-but no, I'm some kind of selfish prick who hates you. Got something funny to say about that?" Christoffel angrily shouted. The look of complete and utter surprise on her deep-purple, blushing face caused the momentary anger and embarrassment within the blood elf to quickly vanish. The crowd, now lard and containing a few familiar faces seemed to wait with bated breath.
"Y-You didn't think that at all, did you?" Christoffel softly spoke with guilt and realization resonating in his voice.
"N-No, I didn't," Shandori spoke with a trembling voice. Christoffel's keen vision began to see the tense walls around the warrior begin to crack as her shining eyes seemed to scour his form for some hint of jest or dishonesty. Christoffel did not wait for her to finish her examination before taking a step closer and speaking again.
"Wh-why? Dori you, you've done more for me than…how could you not see that I," Christoffel struggled to keep his eyes on the night elf before him. He closed them for a moment, doing his best to steady his breathing and find the heroism he was alleged to display so readily in battle. When he opened his eyes again, Christoffel's knees began to turn to quivering jelly as the words clumsily fell from him with a hapless creak.
"I'm mad about you-you brutish, beer-swilling, foul-mouthed, wonderful, beautiful, woman! I never told you about my past because I didn't want you to see me like this, knowing what I used to be and looking at me with disgust or pity! After all that had happened I didn't care if I lived or died because I was so ruined, addicted, and worthless that not even the light wanted me. But you saved me time and again when it wouldn't have benefited you in the slightest. You made me laugh, pulled me from death itself, and made feel like I wasn't too far gone, Dori…" Christoffel's voice, which had been shaky throughout his explanation, gave out.
Shandori quickly wiped the last remnants of hurt from her puffy eyes. She felt something bubbling within, something that occasionally came but she always managed to push down. The emotional wall made of solid self-defeat and built from the bile of her hateful mother, concerned sister, and condescending aristocrats seemed to crumble around them. The wayward night elf's face, form, and the air around her seemed to brighten as the small crowd inhaled in anticipation, seemingly unable to let go until Shandori responded.
"No one's ever said something so nice to me. I mean I've gotten brutish, beer-swilling, and foul-mouthed before, b-but it's never been a compliment, heh. Look at you with disgust and pity? You're a blood elf! Even if your eyes stayed blue any proud, upstanding night elf would have done that," Shandori smiled for a moment with a soft laugh as the rogue before her seemed to squirm in his own skin. "Then again, I'm probably the worst night elf ever, so it works out, I guess. I-Is all this what's been bothering you this whole time?"
"Y-Yes. I tried to tell you sooner but I guess I'm just not the brave hero I used to be," Christoffel looked away, preparing his battered heart for the rejection he'd been anticipating ever since the feelings first gripped him. Shandori took a quick step forward, bringing her face startlingly close to her companion's. She smiled and looked him straight in the eye before shaking her head and softly speaking.
"Christoffel Stingblade, you're a demon-sucking, broody, angsty, moron, and I love you," Shandori snorted as she leaned down to capture Christoffel's lips with her own. She quickly moved her fingers to stroke the side of his strong but tense jaw, coaxing him forward and soothing the obvious tension in his form. The heat between them spread as Christoffel seemingly forgot the trepidation of a moment before and furthered the passionate kiss and carefully brought his hands to rest on the small of Shandori's back.
It was then the crowd erupted in a mix of cheers, gasps, and disgusted looks. Those who found their stomached soured at the sight of such an unusual couple quickly moved to spread the news to Dalaran's tabloids and rumor mills while those who approved found their own hearts bursting with joy by the triumphant moment.
"It's about time!" One among them, a goblin shaman, excitedly spoke to her friend as they linked hands and did a little spinning dance.
"That's so romantic! I think I'm gunna cry," The other, an orange-haired gnome mage, replied with a sniff as the two stopped their excited dance to come together in a friendly hug. None of the noise, good or bad, seemed to reach the pair as feelings that had long been kept within the darkness of their hearts finally flowed between them without fear or worries about what the next day would bring.