"Ironforge," the Gilnean said, after the longest drag Koda had ever seen someone take while smoking. "Or, less specifically, Dun Morogh. Somewhere in there is a human who'd been workin' with th' Wildhammers up'n th' Hinterlands."
"Why would he tell me what I need to know?" Koda's question caused the dual-toned eyes of the information broker to fall on her. Though the elf refused to shrink under that stare, the pressing urge to clarify her inquiry was suddenly upon her. With a breath, she continued.
"If he's close with the Wildhammers, he's not going to be all that loose-lipped, right?"
The Gilnean exhaled a smokey laugh, tapping off ash from the end of her cigarette. "I used past tense, Hound." There was that nickname again. Being called a tracking hound, as she searched out any hints of her an'da's whereabouts...the human thought herself so clever.
"Fine. So, he's not with them anymore. Still doesn't mean that he'll tell me where I can find the idol." Koda's gaze then squinted, holding that stare on the woman across from her. Unphased, the Gilnean fluffed a hand through the burgundy waves of her hair, only glancing back to Koda when she continued speaking. "Why don't you get the information from him, huh? I thought that was your whole thing."
"You're not payin' me 'nough t'do th' dirty work," the woman grinned, smoke lazily trailing out from between her lips. "I've kept my eyes open - for both th' idol an' your target - an' now I'm giving ya' a lead. Wot more could ya' expect for fifty silver?"
Koda couldn't argue with that, so instead she wrinkled her nose up into a look of distaste. There were twenty insults dancing on the back of her tongue, ready to lash forward towards the smug human...but she swallowed them back, electing for diplomacy. After all, something was better than nothing...and she'd only had a whole lot of nothing for the past three months. No need burning the only bridge that seemed to be leading somewhere.
Yes, at last she could finally do something else besides just waiting around this stupid city, sitting on her stupid hands, and crushing on a stupid apostate with his stupid, pretty hair and wild eyes and showstopping grins and heartrending laughter and...
"Dun Morogh," Koda said suddenly, breaking the temporary silence almost breathlessly. The Gilnean quirked a brow, but nodded along in agreement. "I'll need...some descriptions of what he looks like. Maybe where he was last seen. Anything you've got."
The Gilnean huffed an amused smirk, twirling her cigarette through the air, the smoke following it loyally. "He's a human in a land of Dwarves," she'd said, tilting her head with a grin. "How hard could it be?"
~~~
"A human in a land of Dwarves," Koda had repeated nasally, stomping into the room she was renting. The stone door closed heavy behind her; the mountain sighed a brisk breath of air into the room before being shut out. "How hard could it be?!"
Bundling up her cloak, she hurled it onto the bed with a growl of frustration. Joining it, she plopped onto the edge of the mattress, immediately taking to dragging her boots from her cold and tired feet. Elune, -everything- felt cold and tired: her nose and her ears and her fingers and even her ass. With that very pressing thought in mind, it didn't take her long to abandon the bed, instead moving to stand in front of the gentle crackling of the fireplace. Hands rubbed together before she held her palms extended towards the heat, as if begging it to save her...as if in surrender...
She saw him, there, in the flames. Heard him. That ever present aura, the comfort of a campfire. The warmth and the intensity and the very real threat of what could happen if those flames ever escaped their containment.
The threat of what she would have to do should that happen.
A groan, and Koda had rolled her eyes to the side to stare towards the mostly empty room. The Dwarves' decor left much to be desired aesthetically, but it was certainly a sturdy, well-built structure. At the very least, she didn't have to fear the cold here.
She wondered, for a moment, what a room in Winterspring would be like. How warm he'd keep it from his presence alone. How alive it would feel between their conversations and laughter and fleeting glances and...
The moment she felt the blush begin to heat up her cheeks, she quickly abandoned the thought, turning away from the heat. There were more important things to do than stand there, mushy and melting, thinking about a man who would never...could never...be hers.
No. She had far more important work to do than that.
