It has been established that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. In this case, the action (getting drunk) was followed by a rather unpleasant reaction (having a delightful hangover). Symion should have, perhaps, known this by now, but in some things (or all, depending on who you asked) he was a slow learner. And so he found himself the next morning, sprawled out on the floor of his rented room, smelling like an army of pigs and mumbling curses at anything that moved.

The choicest of insults were directed at Tamm, who made a great deal of a jingle and jangle as he tromped about the room, all bedecked in his mail and plate. Indeed, only Tamm would be wearing a full suit of armor at seven o' clock in the morning, just having said his prayers and now turning to a small book of poetry.

Throwing an arm over his eyes, Symion groaned, "Tamm."

The paladin looked up with a grunt, snapping the book shut. "Hm?"

"Get me a drink."

"No."

"Yes. And close that bloody window. It's not very paladin-y of you, trying to blind me."

Scowling, Tamm clomped over to the window and yanked the curtains open even further. "It is very 'paladin-y', as it lets in more light and paladins happen to like the Light." Another tug. "And it's your own fault, you know, for spending the whole night rabblerousing--"

Symion raised his arm just slightly, peering at his friend through one eye. "I don't rouse rabble. I revel. There is a difference, you know."

"Either way, it's shameful," scoffed Tamm through a poorly-hidden smile. He paused, forced his expression into a properly stern one, then cleared his throat. "I have some things to see to in town. I'll be back in an hour, and would like to see you behaving like a respectable person by then."

Before Symion could protest to say that he always behaved like a respectable person, Tamm was out the door and tromping down the hall with heavy, thudding footsteps.

The Lion's Pride was never very crowded during the morning hours, so it was easy enough to find Farley and ask about any damages Symion might have caused the night before. There were none, amazingly enough, and Tamm left the inn quite content that his coinpurse was none the lighter.

It was quite a lovely morning, and he found himself quite content, even whistling a little tune as he strolled along the little path leading to the blacksmith's. A few children, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, stopped to ogle his armor and pepper him with questions about his mace -- was it heavy? could they hold it? how many orcs had he killed with it, anyway?

Feeling quite the public figure, Tamm continued on his way. Off went the chain mail and plate when he reached the smithy, rustling and shining in the morning sun as it was laid over the anvil. To some, the repairing of armor was an onerous, loathsome task, but he quite enjoyed the chance it gave him think

Other times he would not think at all, simply savor the silence and relish the feel of metal yielding beneath his hands. This morning proved to be one of those times, and so he worked and worked, quite forgetting about the unpleasantness of the night before, especially the incident with the pickpocket.

Or at least, he had quite forgotten until he spotted her not a hundred feet away. Iyona sat quite alone by the pond, nearly hidden among the swaying bulrushes. Away from the noise and bustle of the town, and surrounded by nature, she had such a peaceful innocence about her that he had to smile.

The smile faded a moment later when he was struck with the impropriety of the situation. Here he was, alone on the outskirts of town, spying on a woman? The very thought made him blush. He was not spying; he had simply been minding his own business tending to his armor and shehad come out of nowhere. He could hardly help that.

His armor -- oh, Light, he was quite without his armor. With only a patched gray shirt and heavy woolen breeches, he might as well have been half-naked. This would simply not do. Panic rose in his throat, and he hammered away at his breastplate that much quicker.

This was not the time for silly fears. It was a time to be composed, and face the situation responsibly. And so, with a nervous sweat forming over his brow, he began to think, and think hard. Perhaps he could flee to the inn unnoticed, and send Symion back for the armor. Yes, that would do it.

As he was plotting his path of escape, something came along that hindered his plans considerably. Or rather, it was a someone; the lady Valandris was daintily meandering down the lane with a package tucked neatly beneath an arm. There was no way out.

With his fate sealed and options few, Tamm did the only thing left to him, and hid against the wall to wait for the storm to pass.

-

Quite unaware of all these things, Iyona remained contentedly in her own world. It was beautiful, this time of day, with the sun shining through the canopy of leaves overhead and its gentle rays chasing away the chill of early morning. There were no crowds to avoid, people to swindle, or expectations to meet; there was only her and the trees and the quiet rippling waters.

It was easy, in these moments, to imagine she was something entirely different than what she was. Perhaps a fine lady, regal and distinguished, parading through her garden paradise. She wouldn't be wearing the same patched and faded leather, of course. No, the other Iyona would be in silks and velvets, with a feather in her hair.

Such daydreams usually ended when she'd catch a glimpse of herself in the smooth surface of the lake. The real Iyona, pale and drawn, would stare back at her and remind her she was just Iyona the Pickpocket.

Others took great care to remind her of this as well, like that Tamm Tosscobble. He was all duty and honor and virtue, sneering down his nose at her wicked ways. It could hardly be counted a personal fault, of course; all paladins were like that. What's more, he had every right to disapprove.

Iyona smiled in spite of herself, remembering his indignation at Symion's antics. He had turned a fierce crimson, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing, waving his hands around between gasps of "how dare you!"

Yet, for all of his righteous anger, the look in his eyes had been undeniably gentle when he had come with his offering of food. It was easy to imagine, for a moment, that beneath all his gruff exterior there was kindness.

A quiet rustling drew her attention back to the present, where the Arinian woman was standing a few feet away. She wore a bright smile, one Iyona didn't entirely trust.

"Good morning!" chirped the lady, tossing her hair over a shoulder. It was really quite ridiculous, the way it shone and sparkled in the sun. "We really didn't get much of a chance to be properly introduced yesterday, so I thought I'd come over and say hello! I'm glad I found you."

Iyona smiled as well, while doing her best to convey disinterest in her expression. "Yeah? Got your name yesterday. Valandris."

"Yes, well…" Valandris paused, frowning, apparently at a loss for words. Nearby there was a sound of rustling mail and iron clanging against stone, but neither woman paid much mind to it. A moment later Valandris brightened, taking the package from under her arm and holding it to Iyona.

"What?"

"It's a gift," answered Valandris, half-singing in excitement. "Do open it, please."

Opening it proved to be more difficult than would be expected. Iyona cursed (quietly, of course, so Valandris wouldn't hear and faint) as she tugged and yanked and coaxed the bright blue ribbon to no avail. Finally she took a small knife from her boot and cut through both the bow and wrapping paper, tossing the shredded remains to the side.

Beneath it all lay a neatly-folded dress of some airy fabric Iyona couldn't even name. Dark crimson throughout, it was trimmed with gold and just as fine as anything worn in Stormwind. A thrill of excitement rose in her chest, and she knew it showed in her eyes. In that moment, she didn't care; she allowed herself to smile. "Ain't this pretty?" she murmured, more to herself than the lady standing beside her.

"I'm glad you think so," edged Valandris' voice into her thoughts. "I'm still very new at tailoring, and I had to guess at the measurements, but--"

"Ya made it for me?"

Valandris nodded, beaming. "I do hope you don't think it terribly rude of me! I know I might as well be a stranger to you, but well -- I thought it might be, ah, nice."

Iyona ducked her head and mumbled her thanks, which was answered with a "not at all." A heavy silence followed, Iyona staring at the dress and Valandris staring at her hands. Eventually groggy voices and the creak of wheels and the clip-clop of hooves drifted to them; the town was waking up.

"Guess I'd better be goin'," announced Iyona, scrambling suddenly to her feet. She shuffled a few feet away, then snuck a furtive glance over her shoulder. Valandris remained by the lake, smiling brilliantly at her. Clearly she thought she had just done a very noble thing, and was nearly bursting at the seams with oozy good feelings.

Quickening her pace, Iyona sharply rounded the corner of the blacksmith and ran straight into a very surprised Tamm Tosscobble. He gaped down at her, slack-jawed, looking like he had just been caught stealing a hymnal.

"Miss Elras!" he half-shouted, scooting back from her and clutching his armor to himself like a shield. He coughed, then continued in a more appropriate tone. "Miss Elras. Excuse me, I was just, er, not expecting to see you. Here. Not that I didn't want to see you, or that you're not allowed here, but I--" Tamm rubbed the back of his neck, frowning. "Er… excuse-me-good-day!"

With that, he nearly ran back to the inn, his armor making a horrible clanging sound that must have carried to Stormwind. Giggling to herself, Iyona noted smugly that she had never seen a paladin blush before.