The rich scent of primordial Azeroth embraced him as he drifted out of his mortal body. He looked down, following the silver thread he trailed back to his anchor. Beneath him, nestled snugly against the foliage, was the bed he shared with Zhalar. It wasn’t actually in the dream with him, he knew, but the image appeared for him as his gateway, his entry point, in a form his mind could understand.
His body slept gently, safe in Zhalar’s arms. Fitting that his subconscious chose the man’s embrace as his symbolic path home. He took a moment to examine himself. Zhalar had done a masterful job tending him, the speed and quality of healing was remarkable. Even the worst of the burns on his back, where he’d left layers of skin charred to the Darnassus stone, would soon be fully healed with only minimal scarring.
A new pang of guilt hit him, fresh and raw among the old half-healed aches. Zhalar always worried for him while he was in the Emerald Dream. He’d put Zhal through so much since … since only Tuesday, and now he was leaving the man to worry while he flitted about-
No, he reprimanded himself sharply. Stop that.
One could accuse him of cowardice for running off to the Dream to escape the overwhelming grief, and it was even true in a way.
His greater cowardice, however, was having not entered the Dream as soon as his body was strong enough to sustain itself without him in it. He was a druid of the Cenarion Circle, his duties were clear. Sargeras had delt Azeroth a serious wound, soul-deep, and the corruption Sylvanas was spreading across her… There was too much to do, and too much time had already been wasted.
Ysera, divine dreamer, guide me.
With a gentle prayer to the new constellation beneath Elune, he turned and flew into the ancient forest.
It was a few days before Tory was back on her feet. The pain suppression methods seemed to be working well, that or she just was getting used to her arm not being there. Though... All to often it would feel as if it was still there. It was an odd sensation, honestly, but she was told that in time it would fade some.
In true fashion, the Highborne didn't spend much time thinking about herself while she was recovering. Her husband, her children, Hamilton, Finn, Walter, Allie. The condition of her friends, the status of her family, she spent far too much time worrying about others than herself. Honestly, she started to come to terms with that as well. She was going to start doing better, but first, she had something she had to take care of.
Quietly the elf made her way through the keep, she had a mission. There was so much loss, in her mind, she had to do something to honor those who gave all. It was still very early morning and most of the keep was exceptionally still. The sounds of the jungle outside of the walls was about the only thing that filled the air, not even her soft footsteps disturbed the silence.
She kept her focus, trying to think of something she could do when her eyes fell on one of the many Alliance banners that decorated the halls of the stone fort. It wasn't a very elaborate idea, but it was an idea! With a little bit of Arcane, she pulled the fabric from the wall and laid it over her shoulder, covering the area that her arm once was.
On her way out of the keep she made sure to stop by the armory. A pike should do the trick. She picked a fairly basic one, but made sure grab one that was emblazoned with the lion head. The pale blues and gold were worn with time, probably leaving the weapon more forgotten due to lack of use. More than likely, one of those weapons that would be only lifted in extreme need. She used the pike almost as a walking stick as she made her way out toward the courtyard.
The morning sky was beautiful. One would almost forget that the world was at war. Peaceful hues of pink, melding into the mauve of the remaining night sky. The point where it hugged the vibrant blue of the ocean sea greeted her as she moved toward the docks to head toward the beach. She thought back to when the Circle had to deal with Krath'ul. The memorial services on the beach. It would be the perfect place.It didn't take long to find the right spot. It was easy to tell where the tide would rise as there was almost no shells along a certain portion of the beach. She carefully moved to the point that she picked, just before that line, so that her small memorial wouldn't be washed away. With a heavy strike, or at least heavy for her, she stabbed the pike into the ground, blade first. A few circles to dig it deeply into the sand, until almost half of it was firmly in place. Once again, she lifted the banner with arcane, using it to twist the heavy golden cord that held it to the wall around the shaft of the weapon to hold it in place. Nothing much, but something she felt was perfect. A soft sigh rose as she took a step back to look upon the small memorial. One of the tiny turtles that made the beach its home came over to investigate. A small smile rose to her face, even in loss, there was life. A new generation of hope. She had to do what she could to protect those to come, as well as those who stood by her side. No more hiding, no more holding back. She stepped over to the pike, once again taking the, now top of her simple gift. Tracing her finger along it, she etched a small rune into the top, charging it with a tiny amount of arcane. Enough to cause the banner to lift and look as if it was waving in a gentle breeze. With that, she knew it was time to head home. A portal was opened to Dalaran and the mage left the behind the small memorial and the foot prints that lead to it.
