Author's Notes: The timeline for these is the February after the last Winter's Veil Special.

Humans, Zarabethe thought to herself as she navigated the crowded streets of Stormwind, had too many holidays. Kaldor'ei had only a few holidays, and most of them were steeped in thousands of years of tradition. There was Lunar Festival of course, then there was Midsummer, and a few more smaller religious holidays. But the humans, for as short living as they were, celebrated everything. There was a holiday for every season. There was a holiday to celebrate drinking and debauchery (largely influenced by the dwarves). There was of course Winter Veil, which they had adopted in their own house as a way of adapting to the culture they now lived in. But none of them were as loud, or as annoying, or downright inappropriate as the Love Festival.

To illustrate her point, Zarabethe nearly ran into a vendor cart selling balloons of all colors in the shape of both male and female genitalia. She gave the decorations a disdainful glare as she continued on her way, sliding in between a warlock dressed in scarlet robes and his scantily clad demon companion.

There were parts of Stormwind that were always inappropriate, of course. The back alleys of Old Town, where more than one brothel hid. An assuming towering store front in the mage quarter that hid a warlock night club. But during Love Festival, every single merchant seemed to throw modesty to the wind and everywhere you looked, some sort of romantic or sexual item was being advertised with bright lights and vivid signs. In fact, when the girls were younger, she didn't bring them into the human capital at all until the festival had passed.

What a rotten time to run out of ink.

Love Festival was in full swing, and so it took twice as long to navigate to the canals than usual. When she finally slipped through the archway and tucked herself around a corner into a relatively quiet space, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her touch aversion might be all but non-existent in the safety of her home, but it still tended to flare up in crowds.

Zarabethe poked her head around the corner of the archway. Across the canals, right next to the entrance to the mage quarter, she could just spy the corner of the scribe's shop she frequented for her ink. In between though, was a landmine of vendors, crowds, street performers, and sales tables extended out from their shop front. And of course, all the people.

"Zarabethe!"

She was ashamed to admit she startled terribly as a relatively tall gnome stumbled into her hiding place.

"What are you doing skulking about in the shadows like that? I nearly didn't see you!"

Zarabethe managed a weak, thin-lipped smile and took a tiny step out of the alcove.

"Hi, Abigail."

Abigail Twinklefeather was one of the assistant librarians in Stormwind Keep Library. With platinum blonde hair and twinkling blue eyes, she was somewhat of an anomaly among her kind. She was very tall, more like a dwarf than a gnome, and had more of an eye for books and cataloging than any kind of engineering. She was impossibly chipper, and for some reason seemed to have adopted Zarabethe as her charity friend. Abigail twirled a pale curl with one finger and swung her wicker shopping basket with the other hand. She wore a light pink pinafore over a white puffy-sleeved underdress dotted with tiny red hearts. She looked fresh-faced and a perfect representative of the innocent side of the holiday being celebrated all around them. Zarabethe was all of a sudden aware of how unkempt her appearance was. She hadn't done anything to her hair except pile it into a messy bun that was half-falling down. She at least had proper boots on, but her shirt and pants were old and worn, and the last of her depleted inkpot was staining one sleeve. She pulled her cloak around her self-consciously as Abigail peered around the corner of the alcove.

"So, whatcha doing today?"

Zarabethe tucked strands of loose hair behind her ears and tried to appear friendly.

"Shopping, unfortunately."

Abigail's entire body language perked up. "Oh! Me too! Let's go together, it's so embarrassing to go shopping for this holiday alone."

To her horror, the gnome grabbed her hand and drug her out into the busy street. Instantly Zarabethe was awash in so much noise and confusion that she felt nauseous. She was forced to cling to the gnome or be washed away in the crowd down to the canal. As they went, Abigail chattered loudly to be heard over the crowd.

"I want to get something to surprise Neville with, but I have no idea what. What store were you thinking of going into?"

Zarabethe glanced around the crowded street wildly, and then spotted a store front that looked a little less packed than the others. She pointed to that one, raising her voice so Abigail heard her.

"That one. It looks interesting."

They dodged clumps of people and Zarabethe got a glimpse of a red velvet awning swathed over a dark entrance before they pushed the door open and stepped inside. Abigail released her hand and Zarabethe wiped it against her pant leg.

"Ooooh, good choice. I wouldn't have expected this store from you."

Zarabethe shot Abigail a look and then glanced around the shelves, getting a proper look at it.

It was a lingerie store.

Zarabethe turned in a slow circle, feeling a dawning horror in her gut. She was completely packed in by acres of sheer gauze, lace, straps, buckles, and whole lot of nothing in between. Zarabethe turned to head right back outside, crowds be damned, but there were two draenei women standing in the doorway, looking almost as shell shocked as she felt, and so she sidled carefully over to stand next to Abigail, trying to avoid a particularly offensive item covered in light pink ruffles and nothing else. She leaned over to speak to the gnome, who was digging through a smaller rack of sleepwear that appeared to be geared more to the shorter races.

"Do people actually wear these things?" she whispered too loudly, cringing as she imagined her voice ringing loudly over the store. "I thought it was just all a big joke."

Abigail's voice was muffled as she replied, her entire upper body inside the rack of indecent clothes.

"Of course they do, silly! Don't you ever feel the urge to spice up your love life?"

She emerged triumphant, with arms full of red and pink gauze. Zarabethe tried to not look disgusted at the clothes in her hands.

"Not in this way, no."

"Can I help you ladies?"

For the second time that morning, Zarabethe startled horribly. She had been half-bent over, so the human had spoken nearly in her ear, and it took an immense act of self-control to not vault over Abigail and into the nearest clothing rack. Fortunately, Abigail spoke for both of them.

"Oh no, I think I've about found what I'm looking for." Zarabethe started to relax, and took a tiny step backward, seeing that the path was clear now. The gnome, to her confusion, turned and pointed right at her.

"My friend though, she needs some help. She's never bought anything like this before."

Zarabethe could only stare at Abigail, shocked, as the human girl gave her a wide smile and stepped in between the two of them. She wore a simple black button down shirt and black pants, and to Zarabethe's immense relief, didn't seem to be advertising any of the shop's wares. Her nametag said Olivia in Common.

"First time, huh? Well I specialize in first time customers. Let's move over here to the extra tall section." Helplessly, Zarabethe followed Olivia to the other side of the store while Abigail waved at her encouragingly.

"Now, what kind of things are you interested in? Are you celebrating with your boyfriend, girlfriend, spouse...?"

"Husband," she blurted out. Inwardly, she berated herself. This was a clothing store. She would not be defeated by a clothing store. She took a deep, steadying breath, and hoped the sales person did not see it.

"And is he..."

Zarabethe looked at her blankly.

"Is he a night elf, a draenei..." Olivia prodded patiently.

"Oh! A night elf."

Olivia immediately started looking through racks of clothes and Zarabethe started to wish that Deathwing would rise from the dead and obliterate the entire store off the map, with her in it. She took another helpless glance at the doorway. Olivia started chatting as she made a pile of garments on a cart.

"Tell me what kind of person your husband is. Would he like something fun and flirty, or would he like something a little rougher? Maybe something innocent looking?"

Forget this, she was definitely going to be defeated by a clothing store. Slowly, she took a step backward, then another.

"...I have no idea, really."

"Something like this?" Olivia turned and caught her just as she took another step backward. The outfit she held up looked very similar to something an incubus would wear inside of The Blue Recluse, red leather bustier with matching garter belt. Zarabethe shook her head adamantly.

"No, I don't think so." Suddenly, she hit upon an idea. "Actually, I'm pretty sure he prefers undergarments to remain...under clothes." Where they belong, she continued in her head.

Olivia nodded sagely. "So something hidden then. I have just the thing."

She moved to a barrel that appeared to be filled with nothing but underwear, although underwear in this case seemed too base of a word. They were all silk and lace, brassy red and sultry rose, and although they were less risque than most of the items in the store, Zarabethe still felt overwhelmed. Undergarments were not meant to be exciting. They served a purpose and that's all they were for, and either way, they ended up on the floor of the bedroom no matter what their color. Olivia looked up at her expectantly as she dug through the barrel.

"Well, dive in then. What's your size?"

Zarabethe had no intention of diving in. Seeing that Abigail had already finished her purchase and was waiting for her, she plucked the first thing she saw that looked anywhere close to her size and practically threw it at the saleswoman. "Actually I think I'd like this. Just this. I'm kind of in a hurry."

Somehow after paying much more money than she had ever paid for such a tiny slip of cloth, she made it out the door of the lingerie shop. It was at least packed discreetly in a brown paper sack. She waved to Abigail, and ran to the scribe shop across the street with her eyes glued to the ground and her cloak pulled around her. She purchased enough ink to last her at least three weeks, and headed home as fast as her feet would take her.

She felt another brief moment of anxiety as she unlocked the door to their house deep in Elwynn Forest, but Elforen was nowhere to be found. She shut the door, leaned against it, and sighed in relief. She held up her packages, and with a snort of disgust, took the nondescript paper bag into the bedroom, where she tossed it onto her bed. She would figure out a way to dispose of it later. Unwrapping her package of ink, she returned to the kitchen table, which was still filled with pages of translations.

Hours later and several pages of carefully written Draconic later, Zarabethe heard the sound of the shop cart being pulled around the house. She rubbed her eyes, pushed her hair out of her face, and realized it was already dusk. She retrieved two candles from the cabinet, and lighting them carefully, continued working. Presently she heard her husband come in through the back door and called out to him.

"Hey, just in here working."

"Still?" Elforen peeled off his pack and cloak as he entered the kitchen. He'd obviously been smithing in the shop in Goldshire today: his forearms and around his face were dark with soot, and his shirt had streaks of it on the sleeves. He scratched a hand through his long white hair, and somehow, managed to keep it from getting streaked with black.

"I'm almost done. I had to go get more ink."

He kissed her on the cheek as he walked past, all scruff and the smell of fire and metal, and she made an indignant noise as she turned her head.

"Stop, these pages are still wet."

"Spurned for books again." He chuckled good-naturedly as he passed the kitchen table and headed to their bedroom. "I'm going to clean up then, since you're still working."

She made a non-committal noise and returned to her scrolls. The house settled into quiet, and it was several minutes later that Zarabethe realized that Elf had not made his way to the bathing room and lifted her head. There he was, leaning against the door frame of their bedroom with a curious smirk on his face. In his hands he held a slip of white satiny fabric.

"So," he started, his voice full of the kind of mischief she usually loved, "am I expected to wear these, or are you?"

Oh sh-

Zarabethe stood up so fast she upended the ink well and had to catch it before it ruined her entire project.

"I can explain!" she squawked, the blood rushing to her face so fast she felt faint. She tossed her pen to the table and rushed at him. He saw the intention in her eyes and held the garment behind his back.

"Oh no you don't, I want the explanation first."

She tried to grab the underwear, but unfortunately, she and Elforen played that game far too often. He chuckled as he dodged this way and that, and finally she stopped, her hands on her hips.

"Give it back! It was an accident!"

"So you accidentally bought a pair of white silk panties and left them on the bed?"

Her face was so flushed she could feel the heat off of her cheeks as she made another failed attempt to grab the contraband item.

"It's not-what happened was-that's not what they are called!"

He was laughing so hard she finally got an opening—she shoved into him with one shoulder and pinned his arm against the door, and grabbed them away. She ran back into the bedroom, searching desperately for the brown paper sack, and finally shoved the underwear under her pillow.

Her husband, that infuriating man that he was, was still standing in the doorway, laughing so hard he was bent over double. Zarabethe stood with her arms crossed, trying desperately to at least gain back enough control to explain without her voice squawking.

"I went into town to get ink. Somehow I got finagled into going into a lingerie store with Abigail and the only way out was to buy something. I was going to throw them away or something, there's no way I was going to wear them."

Elforen had gotten hold of his laughter while she spoke, and the look on his face was not helping her consternation. "Stop that! I wouldn't be caught dead in something like that. I will just throw them out right now."

She reached under the pillow and grabbed the underwear, and with as much dignity as she could muster, strode out of the room. Elforen moved in front of the doorway with his hands up before she could get past him.

"Wait just a minute. So you aren't going to at least try them on?"

Zarabethe gave him a hard glare. "No. Why would I do that, when you are already laughing at me?"

He held a hand out, and she managed to not flinch as he rested it on her shoulder. "I was laughing at how embarrassed you were, not at the idea."

Zarabethe glanced down at the underwear in her hand, then back up at her husband. He shrugged, raising an eyebrow.

"What could it hurt?"

She pondered the idea for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek. Elforen moved his hand and looked as if he were going to turn away, when she made her decision.

"Why don't you go clean up, and um, I guess I'll at least see if they fit."