~*~ Author's Notes ~*~
If you're like me and you knitpick that these kinds of situations [background building, bonding, etc] still have to flow with the plot of the story just know that I did try to keep the huggy-feely and emo to a minimal without killing 'depth' too much ^_^
~*~ Chapter 23 ~*~
The Priest made her replace the steaks she had eaten, even though she only ate one without permission.
The Warlock and his ward slept over. Kayas refused to let anyone into the room, having been raised to know for a fact that if there is one female in a group of fifty men, and one bed between the lot of them, that she'll get the bed alone and the entire room it came in to herself. And the men sleep on the roof in the name of chivalry*.
"Women…" The scout had scoffed. It took the Priest two misses before Serz nailed him to the wall with a blistering lecture on how to be a gentleman. It disturbed Kayas that the speech started out with, "Listen here son, she might be a looker as far as the women you're used to being around, and unlike them, she's alive…"
The next morning, Serz and his ward headed off to town for a bit of light shopping. Jetadiah woke her by repeatedly dropping her hearthstone on her feline stomach till she shifted and snatched it away from him. He informed her she was to use it to get 'breakfast for four'.
She gleefully took up the task of hunting, knowing full well that every single animal in these parts was fully tainted and the only way to help restore balance to the area was to put them down so they couldn't continue to spread**.
Before she left he asked him something that had been weighting on her mind for quite some time, "Where are my things?" She meant the items she had on her when she was captured, but things she had gained along the way as well.
"The bag you ride in." He had answered as if it were most obvious.
"I mean the vial of Moonwell water. I had it when… um," 'What do I call her?' "the Dark Lady… tried to kill me. Where is it now?"
The Priest looked away, brows furrowed, "Sylvannas took it." Kayas grew quiet. "It was all I could do to get the two of you out of Undercity. If I fought her for the vial as well something else would have had to stay behind."
I vote the Warlock… "When did Corrosa go back?"
"After she helped me with the ritual that stopped you becoming mumble Forsaken."
Kayas was taken aback, unaware of these events. "Why would she help?"
"The Forsaken want a cure for undeath. I'm helping on the condition that Corrosa stays with me. You have no idea how powerful she is. If Sylvannas had the woman under her command at all times, the world would burn." He was gazing at her the way an elder does when they are judging how well a youngling handles heavy information. When she only nodded he seemed satisfied.
So it's not just because they feed each other? "You're keeping a powerful weapon away from… er… Sylvannas." The woman's name was sour on her tongue. She didn't like using so humanizing a sound to describe such an un-human thing ***.
"Yes. I suspect she knows that is why I'm doing it, and tolerating me as long as I continue to help her find a cure. While at the same time I'm trying to disarm the weapon. With Corrosa I first have to cure the fel taint that makes her a Warlock. Then I can work to find a way to undo the physical changes of the Plague. Resurrecting an otherwise ordinary dead body is easy. I could do it with no hands."
"You can resurrect Forsaken?" Can resurrect anyone at all? Few of the Priests back home had this ability. It involved a detailed trial that killed more of it's participants than not – and those killed lost their souls in the process, oft times becoming enraged spirits.
"Yes, but they remain as Forsaken. Their souls are corrupted because their form is corrupted. The soul will come back to its body the same way it left it; tainted."
"Why are you telling me all this?"
"You asked?"
She pursed her lips, having asked because she expected dodgy answers and not the upfront truth of the situation.
He shrugged: "You know how hard it is to keep a secret from a Druid? Try it sometime."
Kayas was silent. Priests had visions and Druids had dreams. Both were methods of revealing the image behind the smoke and mirrors of everyday events. She had only started to learn the secrets of the dreamworld when she was captured in Auberdine. The very first dream she had ever had as a Druid revealed nothing more than the location of a missing hairbrush – that was misplaced for over a hundred years. Subsequent dreams revealed nothing more than a snatch of memory or the fears of the people around her. That is to say, not very helpful at all.
When she didn't deny the accusation the Priest reached inside the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a piece of dinghy jewelry. "This is what you're asking after also?" He held it out for her see.
Her mouth dropped open. Yes, it was also what she was looking for. Carefully she met his gaze. Would he be mad? Would he ask why? She caught the coin-sized piece as it was tossed to her.
"Finders, keepers. I only had it because your dress was ruined. It fell out of your… bodice during ritual. I intended to give it back once there was a moment." Without company, that is.
"Um…" She placed the locket in her bodice where she had kept it the first time. "Did you give her the seed?"
"No. I was… too upset."
When no information as to its whereabouts was forthcoming she asked bluntly, "Where is it then?"
"… I lost it."
"You're a terrible liar, Priest!"
He winced, "It fell out of the bags when I was looking for the candles –"
"You never buy enough. Did you look in the Warlock's bag? She stocks a supply." His mouth popped open- She cut his obvious question off; "I have nothing better to do than listen when I spend most of my day inside a bag. You bless those candles and pass them out like candy at Hallow's End, or did you never notice that is why you run out so often?"
"No, no, I hadn't really noticed that."
She raised both eyebrows, "Of course not." Supposing blessing people came second nature to his kind; he'd never know how much of a gift those candles he gave away so freely were. A light in the dark during these trying times for a great many people.
"You didn't search for it?" She meant the seed.
He sighed, admitting fault, "I didn't think to look for it when I packed up. Corrosa usually does the packing, you see. I-," he winced, "usually preen for the better part of the morning. You sleep in." By the way he said it, the word was obviously applied by someone other than himself.
"I'm nocturnal." What part of Night Elf didn't he think meant she walked in the daylight by choice? "And I think preening is an accurate word; no one's hair should be that immaculate in a place like this."
He managed to look bashful and prideful both at once; covered it with a cough into his fist. "The camp is just outside town. I haven't been back to search because…" … I was taking care of you. He coughed again in nervousness, "Off with you. Enjoy doing whatever it is you Druids do while hunting."
Threw bared teeth she growled, "Anything else, Master?"
That her insult seemed to sail threw one pointed ear and out the other irked her. He threw a bag to carry the food back in and waved good-bye. She turned and left as he half smiled- half grinned after her. There was merriment in his grace she had not seen since the victories of the Plaguelands. In these humble ruins, he was as content as a noble at the finest inn. How uncommon.
Down the short steps into the street she went, fixing the hearthstone onto the clasps of the belt sewed to the skirt. The intent was to stealth at the first chance, but behind her the door opened again.
"The hounds are nasty, try to avoid them." He was standing in the doorway like a worried parent.
"Yes, Father." She humored, headed in the direction of 'just outside town'.
"And there are some green plants that shoot needles. They wont hurt you, but they itch. Allot."
She gave a mock solute without turning around, "Yes, Father."
"And the bats; they spit poison."
"I can deal with poisons, Father."
"As I have seen." A touch of pride in his voice caused her to stop and look back a moment. He was leaning on the frame, arms and ankles crossed. She noticed his bare feed for some reason, and then the bareness of a man who was so often wearing a ring or bracelet or neckpiece.
An old Forsaken man was passing by, walking slowly with a cane that so obviously had been gnawed on it had teeth stuck to it. "They grow up so fast, don't they?" He asked of the Priest.
Jetadiah knodded.
"I'm not his daughter!" Kayas exclaimed in horror. When the pair just locked eyes in that way older males do sometimes she growled in frustration, shifted to her feline form and ran off to find something to kill.
Behind her the old man asked, "Stepdaughter?"
"Takes after her mother's side." The two men shared knowing nods.
Kayas needed to find something to kill or she was going to turn around and claw the words "we're not related" into that old man's forhead!
* Chivalry – The lengths by which a man will go to let a woman him know he is totally in love with the idea of doing what it takes to make her happy and comfortable. This is not an inherited trait in Azeroth, instead spreading more like a virus amongst the lower class; at once curable but never staying dormant for long.
** Otherwise known as a 'quest'.
*** Human (capitalized) is the race; human (lowercase) is the upright walking peeps with molars that think wielding weapons makes them top of the food chain but squeal like little boys when spiders run across their palm.