Standing from her meditation, the pandaren took a deep breath of the air coming from the sea. She looked to her left, towards Lion’s Rest, and considered it for a moment. It had been a week since the Legion’s return, and while she had been out on the battlefield fighting against the demons, Aiami Lin thought the effects of the invasion were felt more clearly in Stormwind than anywhere else.
Wandering the paths of the city, Aiami kept the brim of her hat low as she listened. She could hear voices filled with doubt and rage. Anguished weeping. Worried prayers. The monk understood why each and every person she passed felt the way they did. Once again, it felt their world was crumbling, their stability was shattered.
It tightens its hold on this city, it suffocates its people.
Even still, though, there was an undercurrent to everything. It could be felt in the comfort each person gave to another, in the small gestures of kindness, in the people of all races lining up to join the army, and take the fight to the Legion. There was an energy to it all, to the unbreakable spirit of the people she passed, their resolve briefly battered but not broken.
How does one take away despair’s power? With the light of hope.
And hope there was, underneath it all. Aiami could feel the bog of despair everywhere, and yet, it was nothing more than a stain. She passed people weeping in the road, and those who rushed to their aid. To offer a shoulder to cry on, someone to lean on, warmth to find comfort in.
We cannot see hope, but its presence is felt all around us, every day.
As Aiami entered the tavern, she glanced around from underneath the safety of her hat. The monk was looking for a target, in a manner of speaking. Someone who needed the support of a stranger, the presence of a friend. There, a wounded soldier, if the bandages were any indication. A female elf at the bar. A sentinel. She was nursing more than physical wounds.
The speeches of leaders are said to instill hope, but I believe hope’s greatest strength lies in tiny, innocent gestures. The ones that are given out of nothing more than the kindness of heart, than the desire to help another. These are what keep despair at bay.
The monk took the seat next to the sentinel, and called over to the bartender. “A mug of Barleybrew Cider for me, and a refill for my friend here.” Aiami gestured to the elf.
“Ah, thank you, but that is no-” The elf began, but the pandaren put up a hand, shaking her head and offering the elf a smile.
“Please, it is my treat. Besides, I wished to share a drink with you.” Aiami nodded her head, affirming her statement.
“Well… it is appreciated. Friend.” The elf added at the end, looking back down at her glass.
The bartender placed their drinks down, and Aiami took a hearty swig of hers. There was a sigh of refreshment before she turned to the elf. “I did not mean these, but rather, the most bitter brew of all: despair. It is a sour drink, but we pandaren believe all drinks are best when shared.”
Turning to face the elf fully, the pandaren pulled back her hat and gave the sentinel a reassuring look. “Please, friend. Tell me of your troubles.”
“Hope is the sun behind a stormy sky. Ever in the heart, but veiled to the eye.”
