Back in Silvermoon, it had been almost a week since the wedding disaster. Hayden had returned, genuinely concerned for his sister. Search parties had been sent out, bringing back any clue they could find as to where she had gone. The parties had been thorough, and the rangers had tracked her all the way to Ironforge, but they couldn't continue. So, Hayden sat in his father's study, re-reading the reports the rangers had given Fergus Dawnfire.
"Hayden?" A soft voice came from the doorway. The blood elf looked up to see his mother, holding a small tray of cups, a carafe, and plates. He raised an eyebrow, suspicious of her motives for coming to talk to him. He had only been home for a day, because he didn't catch word of Marcail's disappearance until four days after it had happened. He left Quel'Danas as soon as he got the letter. However, his relationship with his parents remained unchanged. His father hadn't even spoken to him.
"So, you finally acknowledge your son is in your home?" He responded, a little more bitter than he intended.
"Please don't be angry," Una Dawnfire flinched at his words. She let herself into the study anyway, as the fine porcelain made soft tinking noises on the tray while she inched forward to the desk. She carefully placed the tray down, and stood on the other side, staring at her son with watchful eyes.
"I see Father hasn't set foot in the house since I got here." Hayden observed, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair.
"He just doesn't know what to say to you, son," Una started to organize the carafe and small mugs around the desk. "You haven't moved from that spot in a few hours, so I was wondering if you were getting hungry."
"You just stood there and let him say all those despicable things about me," he gritted his teeth, refusing to move in the chair.
"He was angry, Hayden. He doesn't mean any of it, and you should know that. Your father loves you, but both of you are too proud to apologize to each other." She tried to explain, as she tucked her caramel-bronze hair back into her bun.
"Are you saying I need to apologize for something?"
"You brought up the subject to your father the night before-" Una squeezed her eyes shut, as the pain of her daughter being kidnapped before her eyes shot through her.
"Forcing Marc to marry someone against her will isn't right." Hayden snapped, uncaring as to what his mother felt. As far as he was concerned, his parents were the enemy, and he tried to rescue his sister from them. He had stuck up for her, and tried to do good by her, but his father had hurled pointless insults from the past. "She had her own life, and you two didn't need to interfere in it."
"Hayden," his mother said with exasperation. "There is a lot that you don't know about, and this marriage was very important to your sister's well-being."
"What? So she would be wealthy? So she could have stronger children with this family? That's not something that would really make her happy, and if you knew one thing about her, you would know that."
"It's not that simple," she shook her head, her voice thick with emotion.
"Yes, it actually is." His eyes narrowed, as he leaned forward in the chair. Una continued shaking her head.
"You aren't listening to me." She sheepishly looked up at her son. "I didn't come here to argue with you. I want you to know that your father and I love you very much. We love Marcail just as much. If you can't believe a word I say, please just believe that."
Silence filled the room, and only the sound of the enchanted broom sweeping in the corner made noise.
"I brought you raspberry tartlets, with honey-almond tea." Without receiving a response from her son, she turned and left the room. Hayden stared down at the pastries and frowned. He picked one up and bit the corner, and the sweet and buttery flavor exploded over his tastebuds. He knew immediately his mother had made them. These were his favorite desert his mother could make. When Marcail first started her training as a mage, he would come in to the kitchen and steal these behind his mother's back. One day, he had burned his hand trying to grab one off of the metal sheet and burned his hand. His eyes weren't even level with the table, so he hadn't seen where his small hand was grabbing. When he cried out, his mother had responded immediately, picking him up and casting a gentle cooling spell on his hand. She put him in a chair and had gotten some healing salve and bandaged his wound up. Then she placed a kiss on her son's golden head and given him some honey-almond tea.
He wondered if she even remembered those days.
.
Sarah looked up and winced at the sunlight that poured into her eyes. She quickly shielded her face with a book, and rubbed her eyes.
"I can tell you haven't seen the light in a while." The voice of her paladin friend responded.
"What do you want, Darrick?" The warlock snapped.
"Have you found a spell to undo that curse?"
"Is that all you came here for? To disturb my reading and ridicule me?"
"What do you have for me?" the paladin dismounted from his horse and walked up to her, his silver armor shining in the sunlight. She handed over the black book in her hands and coaxed him into the Slaughtered Lamb.
"This book," she let out a deep breath, "contains a few theories on how to reverse the spell."
"Theories?" He repeated, as he flipped through the leather-bound grimoire. The warlock nodded.
"This is as far as I've gotten. A few of them seem promising, but the side effects are very risky. I am going to need some animals to test on."
"That's disgusting. And this is the best you can do? We've been at this for days!"
"Well, Mr. Goodie-Goodie, I don't see your gift with the light has gotten you any closer to solving this mystery." She mocked, snatching her grimoire back. "At least I have something! Remind me again why we are doing this for-" she stopped herself from saying it aloud, but she mouthed blood elf to Darrick.
"Because our leader told us to. Because this was all Galen's plan, and he wanted you to fix this mess." The paladin's eyes narrowed, his frustration growing at the tiny warlock for her rotten attitude. It wasn't like he enjoyed coming into this part of town, and seeing what Sarah worked on. In his mind, she would have made a great priestess, with her chestnut hair and stunning blue eyes. She had the look of an angel, but the fierceness of the demons she tamed. He could just imagine her in the holy robes, looking at him with a face of innocence. His body suddenly was rocked with burning hot lust for that innocent version of Sarah, and he felt himself flinch as he covered his mouth with his hand. He turned away from her and mentally scolded himself for thinking such thoughts.
"Darrick?" The warlock's eyebrows knitted in concern.
"I'm fine," he waved at her, pulling himself together. He turned back to face her.
"Are you sure? Maybe we both need a little break. I've been in the attic scouring through all those books for so long by candlelight that my eyes are crossing. Why don't we go get something to eat? We can go somewhere else in town." His eyes locked with hers, as she broke out a small smile. "I'm buying," she tempted him further.
"Very well, Sarah." He nodded as he let her lead the way outside and his gaze locked on her swaying hips and round backside. He inwardly groaned, wondering how much longer his fantasies would last, and prayed they would end very soon.
.
"You know that we must get her back, Fergus." Orick Lightbringer growled, as his steps hastened through the Court of the Sun. Fergus Dawnfire picked up his own pace to keep up with the paladin.
"Don't you think I know that?" Fergus hissed back, his frustration rising with the constant worry of waking up without knowing the fate of his daughter.
"The longer she stays with those monsters," he scrubbed a hand down his face, "the greater chance they could discover our little family secret."
"Marcail isn't as senseless as to betray her own family to the likes of the Alliance. Even if she has already had an episode, she probably has shrugged it off and gotten it under control by now. She's very resilient when it comes to her former betrothed."
"Did you even tell her about that?" Orick stopped dead in his tracks and faced the mage.
"No, of course not! That would only worsen the situation!"
"Good. She must come back, she is our only connection to the Prince. If we are ever to rise back to our former glory, he is our only hope. We must have him back."
"I told you not to use my daughter for that reason."
"And I told you that Nellan is the only blood elf in all of Azeroth to keep your daughter in check." Orick snapped back. "If you want your daughter to live, you will hand her over to Nellan as soon as possible. The Alliance will kill her, Fergus."
"Nellan has sent out multiple search parties, and I'm using every resource at my disposal. I want her home and alive much more than the both of you do." His gaze narrowed.
"I highly doubt that," the paladin replied. "I highly doubt that." He repeated and emphasized each word as he turned on his heel to continue on with his duties. Fergus watched Orick walk away and let out a shout of frustration, fisting his hands and sent a fireball flying into the sky. When he saw he was attracting attention from the shops and other citizens scattered about the courtyard, he immediately retreated in the direction of his home. He had to find a way to get a mind link to Marcail, and he had to do so fast if he ever wanted to see her again.
.
The ride through Darnassus only magnified Marcail's fears and anxieties. She was seated behind Galen on his saber, and begrudgingly had her arms wrapped around his warm, delicious waist to stay on. She tried to ignore her heart pounding in her ears, or her blood beginning to boil as she breathed in Galen's smell. She tried to ask her captor if they could slow down, but it came on deafened elvish ears. They raced through the city, as she kept her head down and prayed that the passerbys wouldn't discover her. They would probably string her up in the entrance to the city and display her body as an example for future enemies in the city. Or perhaps, if they discovered her identity, she would be sold to the highest bidder that wanted revenge on her and her family, and be left at his mercy.
While she played out all the horrifying scenarios in her mind, Galen called over her shoulder that they were leaving the city. She hesitantly brought her eyes up to see the grand pillars that welcomed night elves from the forest into their home city. The pearly pillars covered with creeping moss welcomed her to the forests of Teldrassil, and the remains of the World Tree. She had seen night elven architecture and land before, but there was something inviting and calming about the home forest. She watched the scenery as Galen and she ran down the main path leading into the forest. All the blends of deep royal blues, lavender, and emerald stunned her with it's beauty. Here, it was wild, untamed, and free. It couldn't be any more opposite from Eversong Woods.
They passed by other night elves walking on the path, and they all waved to Galen like they knew him. She wondered if his family might be influential to the night elves. He certainly didn't act like it. He was a brute. However, he might not act that way towards his own people. He might be well liked among his people. She grew nervous, with the thought of Galen being popular in Darnassus, and the prospect of meeting his family. Sweet Sunwell, she was going to be living with his family for an extended period of time. What if they really were as uncivilized as her father told her? Something told her that since the warrior was able to show some forms of kindness, it had to have come from somewhere. Besides, he said this was the safest place to hide in Azeroth. Didn't he?
The nightsaber made a swift turn off of the main road, and the blood elf let out a squeak in surprise. Galen smiled as he glanced over his shoulder at her. He hadn't been home in months, and closer he got to home, the more relaxed he felt. Which was a first in a very long time. Funny, when he returned home from his defeat in Altrec Valley, he was nothing but nerves and anger. Now, he was glad to be coming home. He kicked his nightsaber again, encouraging him to go faster. The ride through the forest was calming, enjoyable. All the familiar smells and sounds of Teldrassil made his chest swell, and also the small arms wrapped around his waist probably contributed to his good mood, but he would never tell her that.
.
As they decended down the main pathway leading to his family estate, clouds gathered in the sky, making the land look darker. Marcail leaned to the side, peeking over the night elf's massive arms. Her eyes widened as they fell upon the home and landscape. The path came up to the house, and formed a circle, much like in the aristocratic country homes of noble families in Eversong Forest. The house was ginormous, comparing to night elf inns she had seen in places like Ashenvale and Dark Shore. There was a small porch that stood in front of the entrance to the house, and two lavender pillars supported the massive wooden frame of the roof. Night elf carvings of knots and moons wrapped around the roof frame. The windows were of a bright blue stained glass, catching bits of the sunlight and reflecting it back to her. Unlike most night elf architecture she had seen, Galen's home had walls, and even a front door. Most other homes the mage had seen were open, as they lived one with nature. The deep purple wood of the home almost had an iridescent color over it, much like night elf skin. Even the indigo colored shingles on the roof seemed to have a coating of shimmer on it.
She had never in her life seen something so grand and beautiful as the entrance to the Moonblade Estate. As Galen slowed down his nightsaber, he turned to the blood elf, still admiring the view of his home. He caught a smile creeping up on his face, for her amazement with the estate humbled him. Especially since she had lived in all those grand homes in Silvermoon City. Hell, she probably even had a country home in Eversong Woods, but she would never have anything as unique as his home. He slowed down to a stop, and got off of his mount. He extended his hand to her, to help her down.
The mage looked down at him, pursing her lips. Once again, he was being nice to her, which was beginning to bother her. She was not going to encourage this into some sort of friendly relationship. Only the Light knew why she kissed him. Twice. In remembrance to the fiery heat of their embrace, she blushed lightly and lowered her head.
"Welcome to the Moonblade Estate," Galen said, taking her small hand in his as she jumped from the nightsaber.
"My new prison," she added, dropping his hand and collecting her skirts and cloak so she wouldn't trip on them while walking.
"This 'new prison' would be much more comfortable than the stocks in Stormwind." He walked up to his house, stepping up to the lavender stone bridge that leveled up to his house. The double doors of his home were both made of the strange wood, and when the mage approached them, she saw there were tiny carvings of a forest all along the entire spread of both doors. The intricate forest also had animals peeking through bushes and flowers. As she was just getting a good look at the carvings, Galen was opening the door for her. He stepped in and held it open, waiting for her to walk over the threshold.
"Come on, I'll find you a room," he nodded inside. The mage bit her ruby lip and tentatively stepped inside the home. As soon as she did, though, she wished she could run right back outside and hide.
"Galen's home! Galen's home!" A young night elf with white medium-length hair and pale blue skin to match Galen's was racing down marble stairs, and she threw herself into his arms.
"Galen's home?" Another young night elf female with claw tattoos over her eyes and short indigo hair poked her head out of a door to the left of them.
"Girls, settle down, I'm sure he's been traveling all day and night to get here. Calm down," a tall night elf female with lilac skin and long, cascading, indigo blue hair emerged from a doorway on the right. "Brother," she gave a small nod.
"Welcome home, brother!" The female with the short hair and claw tattoos smiled as she emerged from the room.
"Girls, it's wonderful to see you all again," Galen's eyes softened, and Marcail peeked out from the hood of the cloak to be amazed twice in one day. His voice softened, his whole demeanor had changed. He was relaxed, and she couldn't put her finger on the right word, but she wanted to say he almost looked happy. "Wait, where's Isla?" He looked beyond them and craned his neck.
"Oh, she's in the garden," the female with the long indigo hair said. "We didn't know when you were coming, so she was helping father with the decorations."
"Decorations?" The warrior asked.
"It's the Annual Elven Midsummer Festival, and this year it was our turn to host the party." The shorter girl with the indigo ponytail said, smiling. Galen almost smacked himself for forgetting. Every year it was hosted on large grounds, like innkeeper's grounds, and Darnassas. Occasionally, a wealthy family would offer the use of their house, and it had always been his mother's dream to host a Midsummer Festival at the Moonblade Estate.
This was bad.
Almost every night elf on the island would be there. This was not the best of times to bring Marcail into the equation, but he had little choice now. He could turn and take her somewhere else until the festival was over, but that presented the risk of the Horde catching him. With Galen deep in thought, the girl with the medium-length white hair looked at her brother sideways.
"But that isn't why you came back," the snowy-haired girl said slowly.
"We had hoped that's why you were coming home," the tallest one said.
"I'm sorry, my sisters, but that isn't why I'm here." The male night elf frowned, seeing the disappointment in his sisters' eyes. "I came here because I need everyone's help."
"Anything, brother," the tallest one said, fiercely. Marcail felt that the emotion echoed in that female's voice reflected much loyalty in it.
"Hold on, Darine. You don't even know what I'm asking."
"It matters little." She said, waving her hand, dismissively.
"I am about to ask you all something very difficult," Galen struggled for words as he turned to the mage, still keeping her head down and standing in the shadows. He reached out for her shoulders and pushed her in front of him. The three night elf females all stood around the stranger in the large cloak, their attention unwavering. Marcail felt her legs begin to shake, as she lowered her head, praying to the Light that Galen didn't-
"This is Marcail," he said, tugging off her hood. She her hands instantly shot up to jerk the hood back on.
"A human!" The girl in the ponytail squealed. "You brought a human girl here?"
"No," suddenly Darine's voice grew cold. "That is a blood elf." She spat with venom.
"What? No! Galen wouldn't do that!"
"He already has," Darine glared at her brother, never breaking eye contact as Galen stared her down.
"Yes, she is a blood elf," Galen answered, as he tried to pull off Marcail's hood again. The mage slapped his hands away, but he was able to get her helm down. "Her name is Marcail, and I want you to treat her as a guest in our home. She only speaks Thalassian and Orcish."
Marcail turned around slowly, to face the three females. The female in the ponytail gawked at her, the snowy-haired female stared with no emotion, and Darine glowered at her.
"Marcail," the snowy-haired female echoed.
"Yes," the mage said, calmly.
"My name is Lavena," the snowy-haired female extended a hand. Marcail tentatively accepted it.
"I want us to speak only in Thalassian while she is here," Galen added.
"What in holy hell were you thinking, Galen?" Darine directed her glare to her brother. "How could you bring one of them into our city, let alone our home?" She spoke in Thalassian, to make sure the blood elf heard her. "Half-bred rats are not welcome here." Marcail met Darine's glare with one of her own.
"Just because my people had the ability for such power, doesn't mean you should insult us based on your own insecurities." Marcail shot back.
"At least my people could handle the power they had effectively."
"You mean, with what little power they do have."
"That's it!" Darine unsheathed the two swords from her back, and entered a battle stance. "If your people are so powerful, then show me!"
"Gladly!" Marcail reached back with a hand and grabbed the emerald dangling from Galen's neck. She instantly felt her magic restored, and multiplied, as she readied a powerful frostbolt. But the male night elf instantly snatched her hand back, releasing her grip on the gem, as it fell from her fingers. That's when Darine slammed into the smaller elf, knocking her over, as Galen instinctively stepped to the side. But with the quick instincts of a warrior, he grabbed his sister around the waist, and yanked her away before she could harm the blood elf any further. He threw Darine to the side, and stood protectively in front of Marcail, as she picked herself up off the floor. Glancing back at her, he saw she was wiping blood from her mouth with the back of her hand and standing solidly on her own two feet. Damn, he thought to himself, she can sure take a hit. Knowing how hard a charge from Darine was, he was surprised she just got back up.
"Do not," Galen huffed, "do that again."
"This is treason!" Darine hollered, pointing a sword at her brother. "I will see you hanged for this!"
"Stop it both of you!" A deep male voice bellowed from further in the house. Everyone stopped short, except for the blood elf, as she glared at everyone around her. "What is all of this?" Marcail turned to see an older elf, walking with another young night elf at his side, with lilac skin and deep navy hair in twin braids helped him walk.
"Galen has returned, father," the female said, but instantly observed the glowering blood elf in the corner and yelped, dropping her father's arm.
"What has caused the unwelcoming sound of fighting into this home?" He demanded.
"Father, your son has brought a blood elf into your home," Darine's voice dripped with acid as she said 'blood elf'.
"Galen."
"Father," the younger male night elf replied firmly.
"I hope you have a good reason for this."
"I always do, Father. I would like to explain it to you later when I get the chance."
"Please see that you do," his father's face grew grim.
"Can we speak in private?" Galen asked, standing tall.
"Are you sure your friend be safe with my daughters? I sense their apprehension and anger."
"I will help Marcail, Father," Lavena spoke up, as she went to the blood elf's side, linking arms with her.
"See to it that our guest is settled in the house. I assume your brother will take full responsibility for this." Their father spoke, as he started to turn to where his study was.
"I will, Father." Galen spoke up, as he went to follow him.
"That wasn't a question, son." The old elf said, as they turned the corner.
The five women were now left alone, and they stared at each other apprehensively. Marcail locked eyes with Darine, and she grasped Lavena's arm tighter.
"Darine!" Lavena scolded. "You heard father."
The eldest daughter snorted and turned on her heel, flipping her long, indigo hair in disgust as she retreated to the garden. The youngest daughter looked at her two other sisters for help, but they both immediately avoided eye contact, and started to retreat back to the parts of the house they were previously in. Lavena rolled her eyes and tugged on the blood elf hooked on her arm.
"Come, Marcail, I will show you to your room." She led her up the marble stairs, slightly cracked in places with green moss growing through them. The grand staircase coiled into a circle as a tower in the home. "This is our second floor of the house, where most of our bedrooms are and the library. However, the guest room is on the third floor, along with my room."
Marcail didn't reply, but they still hiked up the steep marble to the third floor, but looking up from the third floor, the staircase didn't look like it ended there. Lavena led the mage down the hallway, where a door on each side of the hall were. The right one was where the night elf opened the door. She held the door open and gestured for the blood elf to enter first. When she did, Marcail noticed a room smaller than the one she had at her town home in her parent's house, but a large, four-poster bed with a canopy of wisteria dangled over the wine-colored sheets. A carved wooden desk and chair were next to a window with the blue-stained glass. A higher stool with a small table next to it was in another corner, and there was also two female formed dress mannequins with half finished dresses on them next to the stool.
"Oh dear," Lavena rushed into the room and started to gather the pieces of material and mannequins in her arms, but ended up knocking over the small table with a sewing kit on it. The kit crashed to the floor as needles, beads, and thread went everywhere. "Oh no!" The night elf cried, as she righted the mannequins and fell to her knees to pick everything up. Instantly Marcail was at her side, helping to ravel up the thread and pick up the beads and putting them back in the kit.
"You don't have to help me, Marcail." Lavena said, looking up through her owl tattoos over her silver eyes. The blood elf shrugged and continued to help.
"It's what your brother would want me to do."
"Yes, but he's not here." The night elf pointed out. All the mage could do was shrug her shoulders. "Well, thank you. I sure made a mess of this, haven't I?" She chuckled softly.
"What is all of this?" The mage held out some collected beads.
"I'm a tailor," she answered, taking the handful of beads and putting them back into a tray. "Elune, I even had these organized by color and size." She murmured in disappointment as if she had said goodbye to a dear friend. The mage looked up at the half-finished dresses on the dress mannequins. She tugged at her collar as it had fallen off of her shoulder during the ruckus downstairs.
"What do you make, exactly?" She asked, licking the corner of her mouth.
"Well, I mostly make gowns and enchanted robes," Lavena answered, not looking up from picking up the mess. "I am working on Isla and Melluna's dresses for the midsummer festival coming up."
"Do you think you will finish them on time?"
"Of course! I work best under pressure," Lavena shot the blood elf a friendly smile. Then she looked at the dress that the blood elf was wearing, and put a finger to her cheek. "That gown doesn't fit you too well, does it?"
"I can't complain. It was donated to me from a human," Marcail explained, her deep golden hair curtaining around her face.
"Well that explains much. If you want I could take in the seams a bit, especially around the shoulders."
"It looks like you've got your work cut out for you, with your sister's gowns. My dress will just be a distraction." The blood elf tucked a honey blonde lock behind her long ear.
"It's no trouble," Lavena smiled again, as she placed the final bead into a tray and folded up her kit. "I'm just going to move these into my room so they aren't in your way." She stood up and tucked one of the mannequins under her arm. The blood elf stood and took the other mannequin in her arms and trailed behind her. They walked across the hall and put the mannequins in a corner of Lavena's room, and the night elf put her sewing kit on her nightstand.
"Thank you again, for helping me." Lavena turned to the blood elf. Marcail managed a weak smile in return. "Here, let me have the dress, I can work on it now." Her pale blue arm extended to the mage. Marcail's eyes widened.
"W-what? What would I wear in the meantime?"
"Oh, I think I have a dress that would fit you," the night elf turned and walked to her large trunk at the foot of her bed. Marcail looked around at Lavena's room, and found it was almost the exact mirror of the room she was staying in, except for the amount of trunks littered around the room. There had to be at least ten! Some were stacked on each other, and others were open, with fabric spilling from them in different colors of deep emerald, bright turquoise blue, heavy cream, and firey red.
"My Light, and I thought I had too many clothes and trunks." The blood elf thought aloud. Lavena looked up from the trunk she was digging in and gave a proud smile.
"Most of them are fabric I've collected over the years. Father is helping me get my own tailor's shop in Darnassus. I'm still an amateur, but I hope to someday make robes for the most powerful priests in our city, and the most beautiful gowns for our nobles." She said with a grin as she turned back to the trunk. "Ah! Here we are," she said, pulling a deep, dark blue dress from the trunk. The color was as deep as night sky on the ocean, and there were silver beads sewn sporadically on the gown like stars. She held it up for Marcail to see.
"I cannot wear that!"
"Why not?" Lavena's face grew sad.
"It's too beautiful!" Marcail exclaimed, "I shall ruin such a fine gown in-" She stopped herself from saying any further. She was going to say she would "ruin such a fine gown in a place like this", but she didn't have the heart to insult Lavena's home. The smile on the night elf's face grew back, and it didn't seem to bother her one bit.
"Nonsense, it will suit you well. Especially with that golden hair of yours and creamy skin. It will bring out more of your beauty." She beamed as she held it up to the mage's figure. "This was always too snug on me, it was one of my first creations. Try it on!"
Marcail knew accepting the gown meant she had to take special precautions with wearing such a gown, but she didn't have the heart to refuse it after the snow-haired female had gone through the trouble of finding it for her. With shaking hands, she took the dress from Lavena. As soon as it was in her hands, Lavena was helping her out of the large, plain dress and helping her into the midnight blue gown.
"Ah, it fits you like a glove," Lavena sighed, as she tied up the corset strings. Marcail gasped for breath as the last lace was tied, and looked down at her plunging neckline. "Just like I thought," she walked around the blood elf and admired her from the front. "It brings out your natural beauty even more. Especially with how petite your frame is."
The sleeves stopped at her elbow, with navy blue lace at the seams and more beads sewn on the sleeves. The gown covered her ankles, but still reached her feet.
"You look lovely." The night elf smiled.
"I-" Marcail started to speak, but felt a knot in her throat as emotion swelled up. No one had been so nice to her in days. She forced herself to get it together, and she cleared her throat. "Thank you, Lavena. You are too kind." She forced a smile, but her eyes said so much more.
"You're welcome. Do you need any more help settling in?" Lavena asked.
"I am parched," she said. "Could you show me where the kitchen is?"
"You're a guest, Marcail, go lay down, I'm sure you've had a very trying journey getting here." Lavena smiled again, as she led the sin'dorei out of her room and into the guest room.
"Thank you, again," Marcail whispered, as Lavena nodded and left down the hall and descended the stairs.
.