"It's no' fair!"

Lydros kept walking, drowning out the dwarven woman's complaints with the steady sound of his boots on stone. It was far from the best answer to dealing with Winnie at this point in time, but it was the only one he could manage with one hand atop her head, directing her around the city while she had her nose stuffed in the letter that had arrived the moment they stepped off the boat. Winnie had all but but battled the raven for it, releasing a quick cheer of triumph that quickly melted into one of angered sorrow.

'She is safe. Live as you would, and pray to your deities that she is sane when you next meet.'

He knew the unspoken command quite well, knew what was being implied in the emerald ink that had been in the mind of the druid who wrote it. Their society was matriarchal, and every man within grew up with a keen sense of respect towards those of the opposite gender. They were not to seek out the worgen, nor find her until the fates deemed it the proper time. Though Winnie had been outraged to hear it from him, he could feel nothing more than a deep twinge of guilty relief.

"Wha' aboot her brother, an' her lover? We were gonnae fin' them both with her, weren't we? She was supposed ta be happy..." Winnie squirmed her head out from his hand, glaring up at him. "I though' we were her friends..."

His lip curled. He truly didn't mean for it to do so, nor was he sure that he meant the words that left him. He didn't even have to look at the dwarf to know the scathing look she turned on him. "Monsters don't need friends. She'd have turned on us eventually, like a beaten dog that isn't completely tamed by a gentle hand. She's more a threat now than ever, and it's better to have her gone than be a victim in the morning."

"You don't mean tha'."

"Don't I?" He stopped, not far from the entrance of the Deeprun Tram, his arms folded over his chest. "She's a walking curse, Winifred. One bite, and we might be the next ones covered in fur. The only one we could find to help her has also proven to be of a race that is easily swayed by pretty words."

"She's a frien'!" Winnie roared, not even casting a second glance at the people skittering around the two. "She wouldnae hurt either o' us, and you know it!"

"Then why did we flee so easily? Then why did we give her up?"

"Because... because we couldn't help her li'e the others could."

"I don't trust the demon," Lydros glowered back at Winnie, holding her gaze utterly. "Her kind nearly destroyed our world. If she's the only one who can save the corrupt, then we're in a sad state of affairs indeed."

"Just because one tried to bring your precious tree down, dunnae mean they're all bad."

"That coming from the one we had to nearly keep unconscious to prevent attempting murder on the Horde we were in the company o-"

"Horde kill'd me Da'!"

Lydros waited until the echo of her anger had left the air around them, and returned her glare with a wicked smirk. "The whole of the Horde?"

"... No."

"A sin'dorei?"

"N-no..."

"A goblin, then?"

Her silence was answer enough, and he turned on his heel again to step into the tunnel to the Tram. "Don't speak to me of lumping an entire race into one, when you are guilty of the exact same thing. The demon can take care of the monster, and we can continue on with our lives as if we'd never met her."

"Ye've been an ass ever since Ninya vanished. Tha whol' world just rotates aroun' ye, don' it? Cannae get yer jollies with one, so ye'll just bring everyone down aroun' ye until there be nothin' more than flame and cinder where there was once hope an' laughter." She ignored his growl as she stalked by him, not looking at him at all. "Fine. Ye can mope an' curl up in yer li'l pit o' despair, but I'll not be tha one ta keep ye company."

Winnie stalked to one of the Tram cars as it docked, making it very clear in her eyes that he wasn't welcome in her presence. "So we're clear, if we're gonnae go aboot callin' others names, might I point out just who brought the demons here in tha firs' place? Who happens to have at least two of tha most warped an' evil races on their hands? Jus' because ye have tha greatest skills of anyone I know, dunnae mean ye and yours are clean."

"At least I have skills, aside a big mouth and broad backside." He instantly regretted the words, hating the way her anger flooded into hurt in only a few seconds, and how empty he felt when she turned her back on him, and the Tram pulled away before he could board as well with only the echo of an extremely explicit dwarven slur back at him.

Admittedly, he had wanted to go to Ironforge and get completely smashed on some of their more expensive draughts. He had wanted to do so with his closest friend, who made anything more amusing to deal with. In typical fashion, he had only made things worse between them, and he didn't even know exactly how he had done it.

Brinella was a friend, wasn't she? He knew she was not a weak little human, despite her looks. The girl had gone through everything with far better sense and hope than he himself could have ever managed, and yet he was putting her down like she had brought everything down on herself and deserved what she had gotten. Elune help him, no one deserved what she had gotten.

Which meant the problem lay with him, and he couldn't think of where it had started. Was it truly Ninya's disappearance that had brought this side of him to the open? It made sense. He had been so impressed with Brinella and how she had coped with her new life that he had forgotten she was only human. A part of him had never forgiven her for not managing to bring Ninya back, never truly placing blame on the rogue herself. The pedestal he had placed Brinella on had been impossibly high, and he only realized it after she had toppled from it in his eyes.

Then there was the weakness, the hate for himself that he was so pathetic that he couldn't do anything to help her. Years upon years ago, he'd have been one of those dedicated to Ysera and the Dream. It was only because another path opened, and then another, and then more until he couldn't even find that which had led him astray first. He had always found that he never looked on that moment with pride, never could tell anyone that he didn't regret his choice, when he knew all too well that he did. So very, very much.

Now it ate at him, watching Brinella walk away under the hands of people he only barely trusted. Years had passed since he had seen either of them, and his own nature played with his fears on letting those he watched over out of his sight. Irial, Ninya, and now Brinella. Helpless to do anything for any of them, and his pride was wounded for it. But they had delivered her safely. There should have been some grain of trust there for them, yet there wasn't.

Nor was there any for the one they had handed her over to. That Rylien had volunteered her should have cheered him. The druid rarely trusted those inside her race. To be sent to someone outside was completely unheard of. There should have been faith in her choice, and yet there was none. In the deepest depths of his mind, he knew that it wasn't dislike as much as jealousy. He knew it, and he hated it.

But none of that would help him now, when he had truly wounded one he had seemed to be incapable of chasing away from him. He had taken her friendship for granted, he knew. With a muttered expletive under his breath, Lydros kicked at the stone, his hands jammed in his belt. He'd feel guilty if he didn't apologize, and there was no sense in drinking without his favorite partner.

With a grumble deep in his chest, Lydros boarded the Tram as it appeared again, privately hoping that Winnie had cooled off enough to be waiting for him at the Ironforge side. Deep down, he knew she wouldn't be there. But there was always hope.