The storm outside the Cathedral at the heart of Stormwind roared and raged. It was that season for violent storms to wash ashore and beat into the city until it died off or gave up and moved on. The people taking cover inside had been settled down, a great effort that has been made easier only a little over the years. Making sure the residents were safe has never been easy, and officials know it'll never be easy. There's always complications with so many people.
But, for a kaldorei woman and a kul'tiran man, they were content to be alone in one corner. The large man sat on a bench barely big enough to hold them both while the woman, a bundle wrapped in cloth in her arms, sat next to him. He leaned back against the cold stone wall, the chill on his back was a relieving contrast to the stifling warm room. Without a thought, one arm reached for the woman holding the bundle. She sat still, attention on the swaddled infant in her arms.

As she tugged the swaddle to loosen it around the infant, she felt the familiar weight of the man's hand trace down her back. Under her thin gown, the only thing she was wearing when they were called to take shelter, burn scars covered most of her back and left side. The man rested his hand on her leg as he watched the two most important people in his life.
A shiver crept up and down the woman before she leaned into the man. His arm moved to accommodate her, allowing her to get comfortable against his side before wrapping his arm around her. His hand rested on her lap, palm up, as if ready to accept the swaddled infant if she should choose to rest her arms. The little girl was growing fast and loved being held. If it was up to her father, her feet might never touch the ground. But right now? Her belly was full and papa was within eyesight. All was good by her, even while the storm outside beat against the stones.

Three of the city guard rushed in with half a dozen more civilians, all soaked and windblown. One civilian sobbed in the arms of another, three looked shaken and the sixth gave the others in his group sorry looks. One of the guard motioned for them to follow and only five did. The man that gave the others sorry looks moved to find a spot for just himself.
The kul'tiran man watched them and gave the woman under his arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The woman looked up from her bundle and watched the family be lead away. She offered them a silent prayer for whatever their sorrow was and felt grateful that her small family had been accounted for. After losing so many at Teldrassil, knowing her family was safe from this storm was an extraordinary relief.

A handful of whispers drifted around the room about the family that had just entered. The man that was with them had said their house had collapsed on one of their loved ones and didn't have any more information.
Eventually, the talking died down to a lull of murmurs and prayers to the various higher powers. Even the large man that took up most of a bench offered a prayer to quell the tides and storm. The woman under his arm seemed to sink into him when he finished, the infant cooing a small protest with the motion. As the woman's arms relaxed, the man held his hand under the bundle and guided her to the woman's lap.

"My Rose," the man murmured softly, "rest." He planted a kiss on her head as she drifted off, half asleep. The infant cooed at the man and pulled one of her arms free.
"What are you up to?" her father asked. He wiggled a finger from his free hand at her and conjured up a small sphere of water. The infant moved her arm, but didn't quite seem to have the coordination to slap the sphere.

"Well, the ugliest bastard still lives," a smooth voice spoke with a bite to his words. "Kahroby, was it? What a nanny's name!"
The large man gave the other kul'tiran an unamused stare, "Are you so bored, you want to start something?"
The other man guffawed and sneered, "And how'd you end up with an elf-bitch? Ugly bastards like you don't get lucky."
A woman hollered from another room, "Hey, idiot, get back over here!" A tense moment lasted only long enough for Rose to draw a breath before the man stormed off. Kahroby exhaled slowly and turned his gaze back to Maloryle, whom had given up trying to splash the water sphere and now held Kahroby's finger, her little hand barely wrapped around it. The water evaporated.

Maloryle's thick ears barely reached the back of her head and dark brown hair had begun growing, framing her forehead and ears. Her skin had a tinge of purple, but was much closer to her father's darker brown skin. She was definitely looking a little more kul'tiran than kaldorei.
The storm outside roared and moaned, eventually abating to wails and heavy rain. Some of the civilians began filing out, more than ready to return home and assess what's left of their belongings. It was mostly women, children, elderly and those that couldn't yet physically face the dying storm outside that remained in the Cathedral. For Kahroby and Rose, there wasn't anything they could do yet. Kahroby's boat was surely beaten to splinters while the small crew sheltered closer to the harbor. As much as he was glad that Rose and Maloryle were safe, his heart sank at what fate they might face without their boat.

Rose moaned softly and stirred. After rubbing the dreary sleep from her eyes, she looked around, "Some have departed."
"Yes, my Rose," Kahroby confirmed.
"I doubt the Reclaimer survived," Rose stated flatly and sighed.
"I think you're right," he nodded.