[During one mission with <Sentinel> Iyora’s DH love interest Vilaxian is lost and thought dead, this is her dealing with the aftermath of it...]
The ship lurched wildly as Iyora struggled to stay on her feet, noises ringing and crashing in her ears making it hard to hear Commander Wintershade try to shout her orders over the din. Time seemed to become liquid almost, like she was held back as if she was trying to walk underwater upstream as she looked around, gaping at her Sisters, their faces a blur despite her slowness. Turning, her vertigo stopped as she sighted the one person in the control room that was oddly unaffected by the chaos surrounding her and the rest of the cadre. There stood the demon hunter Vilaxian Dawnstorm, at one of the control panels that lined the fel-tainted room, his back to her, long green hair spilling down his back obscuring his tattoos, the only thing showing from this angle even hinting what he really was his horns jutting out and curling above his head. Her breath caught as her tongue felt like lead in her mouth, she wanted to say something, strained against herself but nothing came out.
Say something! Her mind howled as the Commander yelled again, her eyes being torn from him for a brief moment following her Sisters fleeing to their escapes and she looked back again, trying to force her lips to move, tell Vilaxian… tell him…
“Why don’t you say anything Iyora?” the symphony of chaos suddenly stopped dead as all she heard was his voice which felt like it skewered her right through the heart.
Again she fought to say his name, but it seemed Elune had cursed her mouth rendering her mute as he slowly turned his head to face her.
“Say something Iyora,” his voice, chilling her to her core as she looked in horror at his face, now turned to her - a withered face now where it had been proud and beautiful, and the band covering his lack of eyes now gone, but there was no fel-fire there anymore, just dead pit-like sockets staring right through her as she screamed…
And then woke up in a cold sweat, bolting upright in her bed, her hand instinctively trying to clutch her chest as if she was trying to catch her heart from exploding out of it. Falling forward as shaky hands came up and ran through her damp hair, she bit back a low moan as she didn’t want to wake anyone else in the Bunkhouse who happened to be asleep. Luckily she hadn’t awoken screaming, nor had she the last two times she had this particular dream, one time while she was still in Azuna before they departed and the other time, now two, here in the Sentinel Bunkhouse as her cadre were all safely back in Darnassus now. Recalling her Priestess training, she steadied her breath as she forced herself to calm down, but there was no going back to sleep now for her and she knew it.
Slipping out of her bunk silently as she could, she quickly slipped some clothing on and spirited herself out and down into the Saber stables below. The familiar sounds and smells of the sabers comforted her a bit as she sought the pen assigned to her saber Nightpurr as his head popped up from his own slumbers, his nose twitching from scenting his mistress. Rumbling as she neared him, he shifted to let her in as he knew his rider was troubled and usually that meant she wanted some cuddles, something he was perfectly fine with. Iyora near flopped down on him as she buried her arms around his neck and her head in his fur. She shook with silent sobs for a moment until she finally whispered to him, not that he knew what she was saying, but the saber would listen all the same.
“I had the dream again,” she moaned, “I’m not sure if it’s just the fear of not knowing playing on my mind or… Elune trying to tell me something. I don’t know.”
Nightpurr twitched his right ear and grunted as he didn’t know either (because he didn’t understand her blathering outside of his training), but Iyora started to scratch him in all his favorite places, so in his feline opinion, it was all good as he purred and tried to return the favor and groom her with his huge sandpaper tongue. Iyora kept scratching, her fingers still full of nervous energy as she thought back to the crash of the Legion ship and her now missing love interest. She hadn’t said anything to him then, and she had wanted to, but instead she had turned and run with the rest of her Sisters, to safety while he had stayed behind. A strong part of her wanted to stay behind with him, come what may, so why, why had she run instead? Was it because Liall was there? Why had she fled instead of being with the male that she had grown to love? Iyora felt horrible, like she had abandoned her heart on that ship, a gaping hole in her chest where it had been but invisible to everyone but her.
Guilt wracked at her, especially when she looked at Vilaxian’s sister, Lieutenant Dawnclaw, nee Dawnstorm. In the aftermath, she had joined the Lieutenant time and time again in searching for him, but there was no wreckage as when disabled Legion ships seemed to swallow themselves whole and return to… somewhere. Is that what happened? Was he turned inside out and flung to some far reaches of the Twisting Nether? She prayed to Elune it wasn’t so, but eventually they had to give over their searching as their cadre was being recalled home. Again, guilt burned like a firebrand in her as she left the Isles with her Sisters, but at the same time she didn’t know where to go, what to do or even where to start searching for him. If she was honest with herself, she rarely knew where he was half the time as it was. He flitted in and out of her life randomly, only showing himself to her when he wanted, moreover when it was safe for the two of them to steal a few precious moments alone. Iyora had such misgivings about their relationship as it was as she’d often find herself wishing it were different, that their being together wasn’t such a frowned upon affair, that he wasn’t what he was. However it always seemed to melt away when he came around and she breathed in his scent, getting drunk in a fashion on his presence.
But now? Now what? She didn’t know and once again she found herself so torn about it. She had worked hard to become a Sentinel and she didn’t see herself leaving for a very long time, Elune willing, but there was a part of her that wanted to go, go back to those war-torn Isles and search high and low. The weight of her Oath to the Sentinels was crushing her heart, so she had sought solace in the Temple. There she had prayed, sending her heart and to love to wherever he may be to guide him back if possible. She had in her foolishness asked for some sign from Elune, but when nothing but this nightmare came over and over the Priestess was starting to think that was the sign and she had failed Vilaxian. What did it mean, if it meant anything at all other than an escape of her fears and anxieties she kept holed up inside her.
Feeling slightly more grounded, Iyora finally got up giving Nightpurr a last scratch and pat to the head as she left his pen so he could get back to sleeping as she slipped out into the outside air, still strong with sunlight pouring through the branches of Teldrassil. For the most part the city of Darnassus was still asleep as her kind were called Night Elves for a reason, they prefered to operate in the night and while she was no different in her preferences herself, her Priestess training and now Sentinel duties did include doing things during the day as well. Shielding her eyes, she looked up at the sparkling bright light filtered by the leaves as she wondered what she should do with herself. Go to the Temple and pray more? No, she didn’t feel that was quite right now, so instead she opted to go to the Sentinel Notice Board and read over the duty roster for the week.
Making her way there, she saw some druids training in the distance as their ways often forced them to work in the daylight hours as well so that way they would get over their daytime weaknesses in favor of their druidic ways. It made her think of her An’da and that maybe she should go speak with him, she already had planned on it after she let him know the cadre was back safe from the Isles, but then her heart sank as she knew Liall would want to go along. The worgen Moonfang wanted to inform her An’da of her mission to ‘court’ his daughter and Iyora wasn’t sure how that would go over as the elder Kaldorei didn’t care who Iyora was with as long as she was happy about it. She knew he wouldn’t be rude to Liall, he would be very polite and never speak down to her, but he would see it as a very human stance to take - which it kinda was.
Liall was trying, and Iyora wanted to encourage that though, Liall had been through enough heartache in her short life and Iyora didn’t want to cause her any more. And ever since they got back Liall had been there for her trying to cheer her up and help with her anxieties about Vilaxian, even though she knew Liall did not get along with the demon hunter at all. However the more the worgen warrior tried, the more Iyora felt… horrible. She more and more felt like she didn’t deserve Liall’s attention and love. Iyora never thought she’d find herself interested or even get her interest returned by one person, let alone two. Even before she felt selfish and unworthy, but now… Now she felt like dirt. Lower than dirt. Maybe this whole situation was a sign, one that she shouldn’t be in any relationship because she didn’t deserve one. If she did nothing when Vilaxian needed her then… What would happen if Liall really needed her one day? Would she make the same decision? Maybe it would be better is she was alone and totally dedicated herself to Elune and her duties as a Sentinel…
Speaking of her duties she finally reached the Notice Board as she looked over the page with the night’s assignments attached and noted what she was going to be doing today. But just as her eyes left that paper she saw a new paper posted by the Commander herself, apparently they had already gotten their marching orders. She wondered if they were headed back to the Isles yet again as she read over that missive now:
Sentinels!
Through our fortitude, skill at arms, and grace of Elune, we have achieved a great victory in Azsuna against the enemies of our people. To give proper thanks to the Night Warrior and demigods who blessed us with their strength and protection, we will undertake a pilgrimage to Nordrassil. Beginning in Ashenvale, we will follow the old mountain road upwards through Felwood, Winterspring, and Hyjal proper.
We will first take a brief rest in Darnassus to recover from our wounds before undertaking this journey. Expect to be gone for several weeks, so plan and pack accordingly.
Signed,
Cmdr. A. Wintershade
There seemed to be truth to the old saw that when it rained it poured as Iyora didn’t think she had anything left in her to shock anymore. Nordrassil? Hyjal? Oh no. Her hand slipped off the paper nervelessly as she hadn’t been there since… Oh, she didn’t want to think of this right now. Rubbing her temples she looked up to see the setting sun and thought maybe she should go to the Temple after all for Moonrise prayers to try and soothe her frazzled nerves. Iyora just wished the innate peace of the Temple would find root in her as well…
[This was a writing prompt challenge as @bovira suggested I write something poignant from Iyora’s past, so here’s a tear-jerker. Trigger warning an animal dies in this, so beware.]
The ragged breathing of the Nightsaber was strangely mesmerizing, but for all the wrong reasons. Iyora sat there with the huge feline’s head cradled in her lap as she kept stroking the soft fur around its ears, the head alone almost dwarfing the child as she spoke soothingly to the massive creature. Just one gigantic paw swipe could destroy Iyora if the saber had an inkling to, but the girl sat there with no fear, only pity and sadness highlighting her large luminescent eyes as the cat was in no condition to do much of anything. Grey hairs surrounded the muzzle and the ears denoting how old the feline was, something currently overlooked by Iyora as she kept the great saber calm and quiet so her Father could work.
Looking over she carefully watched her An’da felt along the ribs and spine of the animal, listening very intently with his overly-long ears for any sign of what ailed the cat as if he couldn’t figure it out, no one could. Her Father Jartsam was a very well known Kaldorei when it came to sabers, he knew everything there was to know about the beloved animal companions of his people as he was not only a breeder, but also a healer and mender of them as well. Iyora had seen her An’da be called on by all sorts of people to use his druidic and just plain common sense skills to treat and fix sabers, it was something that made her so proud to call Jartsam her An’da, in her young eyes he could do no wrong and everything right. She just knew he could heal Mys’ang and the matron feline would be up on her paws again, and then napping in the sun on their porch just like she always did. Mys’ang was a family staple, she had thrown many fine litters, many going on to become strong Nightsabers put into service for the Sentinels even! Iyora’s own saber kitten, Nightpurr, was Mys’ang’s great-grandson, and the motherly feline was even allowed pride of place at the family hearth during the colder seasons. The great cat even babysat Iyora a time or two when she was just a tot, tumbling around with the litter she had at the time.
Finally Jartsam gave off listening as a very solemn expression settled over his usually serene, benevolent face and then looked at his daughter. Instantly Iyora knew something was wrong as her fingers froze from threading through the fine fur.
“An’da?” she asked fearfully as he sighed and got back up on his feet.
He walked over and sat down next to Iyora, running a loving hand over Mys’ang’s head and giving her a pat, then putting his great hand on Iyora’s back. It was so warm, his hand, she noted, like a furnace.
Looking at her with sorrow in his eyes he simply said, “It is time Kitten.”
Instantly tears sprang to Iyora’s eyes as her heart lurched in her chest and her guts twisted, “No… not Mys’ang…”
“Kitten, Mys’ang is very old, and she’s led a very good life,” he said softly as he now ran his hand down Iyora’s silky teal hair as she flopped her head down on the great cat’s as her sobs were muffled in the fur.
Sighing, the older Kaldorei waited for Iyora to still in her weeping before he spoke again to her, “Do you know the story about how the sabers came to us?”
Lifting her tear-streaked face she nodded, “T-t-that Elune saw t-t-that w-we were all alone a-a-and took s-s-some stars and the night sky itself a-a-and made the first Nightsaber a-a-and she gave it to us t-t-to b-be our friends forever.”
Jartsam nodded at this rubbing her back, “And because sabers are our blessed friends we must always honor them. Mys’ang is in pain my Kitten, and she doesn’t deserve this pain. We can honor her by letting her go back to Elune sooner so she doesn’t suffer, as it is meant to be.”
The little girl wept anew at this, but slowly a calm flowed over her as she looked into the great cat’s eyes and saw there the truth of it. It was as if the saber could speak as she saw in Mys’ang’s eyes, she was ready. Ready to leave this life and move on. Wiping off her tears with her arm, she finally looked up to her An’da and nodded. Echoing her nod with one of his own he got up and pulled a long knife from his belt and walked over to the saber’s struggling chest. Iyora laid her head on top of Mys’ang’s head again as she started to sing a prayer to Elune for the feline as she heard a wet pop and then the great cat stiffened and… relaxed with an odd, heaving sigh. Looking over she saw the light fade from Mys’ang’s eyes as they rolled back and closed halfway going glossy.
Iyora’s face crumpled as her An’da went to wash his hands and knife, then returned to collect her, picking her up gently and holding her in his strong arms. She clung to him for dear life as they stood there and beheld the saber one last time.
“She’s not in pain anymore Kitten, and sometimes as healers that’s the best we can do, just take the pain away.”
Sucking in a ragged breath of her own she just studied the body for a while until she swore she saw a tiny spark of life hover for a moment and then shoot off into the night sky. Looking to her An’da she noted he must not have seen it as he was busy kissing her head at the time.
Finally she spoke, “Elune, t-t-thank you for Mys’ang being a part of our lives. We’ll m-m-miss her.”
“Ah, Kitten,” Jartsam stated as he followed his daughter’s gaze to the heavens above, “We’ll see her again one day when we all go to Elune, but not yet… not yet…”
[Edit: To get a better sense of what’s happening here, read Iyora’s Dear An’da #5 before this... Also, a big shout out and thank you to @bovira for letting me use her char Bo in this piece!]
A small, dim, ghostly wisp floated down out of the sky, winding through the trees until it came upon the Sentinel camp. All the indigo-hued tents were set up in military precision, the small, wooden crescent moons adorning their tops were catching the dying light of the day as the wisp rode the wind currents that blew lightly through them. People were already getting up and about, as sun-down was the natural time Kaldorei camps usually got moving as the wisp seemed to be searching for someone or something among the warrior women.
On the outskirts of the camp, several people were walking back with buckets of water, Iyora Silverhawk among them as she liked water duty in the evenings, going to the nearest source of water and collecting it for the camps’ use was similar to the Moonwell water fetching she’d use to do for evening rituals back in the Temple. Although there was one difference, the camp needed a ton more water than the Temple rituals ever did, but it was good exercise, building muscles on her arms that used to be so very skinny once upon a time. She used to be a lean little stick of a Priestess, but now that leanness was covered in a layer of muscles that added more definition to her form, muscles she was very proud of as she worked hard to become a proper Sentinel.
After setting down the last of the buckets near the cooking pit she gave Huntress Ever-Tear a big smile and a more proper salute as she was busy cooking breakfast for them all. Iyora spied that there would be enough time for her to go do her morning meditations and prayers before breakfast was ready, which was just how she liked it. She walked back to her tent as Nightpurr popped his giant head out of it sniffing and snuffling, obviously looking for his breakfast. Ducking into her tent she pulled out a ‘Saber meal’ which was packaged meat and other things (such as vitamins hidden in the meat) that were issued for the Sentinel Sabers to eat. She unwrapped it as the giant cat practically danced around her and then she put it down for him to grab and devour. With that done she got dressed in her duty uniform, grabbed her staff and washed her hands outside before going to a visible spot to her Sisters under a tree in the camp to start her morning Priestess rituals. She pulled out a small bit of incense, lit it and just as she started to go through the motions…
“Your ‘Uncle’ would like a word with you,” a gruff and gravelly female voice said above her in a tone of snooty amusement.
Looking up with alarm as she already had her staff in hand to fight she saw what at first looked like a wisp, a wisp that then turned into the familiar form of that small val’kyr that followed her Uncle around. The tiny winged woman smirked viciously at Iyora as Iyora just glared back, no one liked the creepy thing, including her own Uncle Ourrin Highblade. From what Iyora’s father had told her, the story was the little creature had to kill something to become a full val’kyr and had picked Ourrin for some reason. Iyora and her father Jartsam both surmised that since Ourrin was still walking around, that the creature had failed in her endeavors and now just followed their Twice-Born family member around due to some bit of twisted logic that only made sense to it. The val’kyr would do only what Ourrin told it (aside from ‘buzz off’, apparently when Ourrin told her that, she’d just do that creepy grin of hers and giggle and stay put) and if anyone else tried to talk to it, you’d be lucky if all you came away with was a series of painful gashes up an extremity or your face. Mostly he used her to send messages or be a spy/scout for his group of Twice-Born known as the Redeemed as if she kept insisting on hanging around, she might as well make herself useful.
When Iyora didn’t reply fast enough the little creature grinned wider trying to be as unnerving as possible, “He’s outside of camp waiting,” then she jumped off the branch she was perched on and sped off in the direction Ourrin probably was at.
Iyora’s irritated sigh came out more like a growl as she wondered what could her ‘Uncle’ could possibly want. She didn’t like him, he wasn’t her real Uncle Ourrin to her, as that man had died in the Third War. The Twice-born was just a walking, talking, unnerving abomination of his former self and she couldn’t stand being in his presence. Her brow furrowed, what under the Blue Child could he possibly want with her? All of his dealings with this Cadre has always been with the Commander only and thankfully he always left her out of it. He knew she didn’t like him even if her beloved An’da kept insisting his brother was still himself (despite being an ice-cold, no-pulse murder machine), and up until now Ourrin seemed to respect her wishes in giving her a wide berth. So what would…?
Then it hit her. Her last letter to her An’da… Oh. Ooh.
Getting up, she looked around for someone to tell, or go with her as she wasn’t about to walk out of camp proper alone. Finally she spied Guardian Nightbreeze getting out of her tent as she walked right up to her. Saluting her superior she let the Guardian know Ourrin wanted to speak with her. Bovira stood there for a moment digesting the news, looking around until finally she said she could spare some time to accompany her to where Ourrin was waiting. Iyora liked the Guardian the most out of all of her superior officers (if you could, could you do that? That may not be a proper thing to feel about your superiors) as she was the most… calm. Calm, unflappable, quiet and thoughtful, if Iyora needed help she knew out of anyone aside from the Commander, Bovira’s advice was usually the best to heed. Although, currently she hadn’t been exactly heeding Bovira’ advice of late, which made her feel rather guilty. The ursine-looking druidess followed Iyora to the edge of camp where the small val’kyr suddenly flared into existence again in front of them.
“You Sentinels sure are slow,” it chided, again with that smirk that made Iyora itch to slap it off of the thing’s face as then it regarded the Guardian, “But then bears are pretty slow and dumb, shouldn’t be too surprised I guess...”
Oo! Iyora wanted to rain down some holy fire on that smarmy little thing, but then she looked over to Bovira who didn’t even seem to notice it had said anything. The Guardian looked over to the Keeper with her usual serene gaze, a bit of humor dancing in the corner of her eye that somehow made Iyora’s anger just evaporate like morning mist on sunrise. The senior Sentinel wasn’t about to let the val’kyr get under her skin so, which made Iyora feel a bit sheepish that she was being rather thin skinned. The Guardian looked past the winged annoyance as there was Ourrin, mounted on something that almost made Iyora’s jaw drop right there and then.
“Sham’bala?” she choked out as it was indeed, she’d know that Moonsaber anywhere.
The female saber had been a gift between brothers, one of the first litters her Father had ever helped birth, he gave the biggest cub to Ourrin to train and ride as a battle partner and she did not disappoint either brother. She was a huge female and seemed to have just as much an appetite for battle as her rider did back in the day, she was also a proud mother several times over herself, putting off many fine kittens that were quite sought over as battle mounts themselves. Her bloodline is still the pride and joy of her Father, and well known amongst most Kaldorei saber-breeders. However the longer she looked at that Moonsaber, her shock faded into revulsion as she sensed something seriously off about her. As the large saber swung its head around to look at her, she gasped and almost staggered back, Sham’bala’s eyes were dead white and the more she looked the more she realized that Sham’bala was not of this world anymore, at least, not entirely; as one’s eyes traveled down the massive cat’s legs the paws seemed to disappear into vague, misty outlines. She had indeed died during the Third War with her rider and now, somehow she was back once more to follow Ourrin into whatever battle he chose to fight.
“Keeper? Are you alright?” Bovira asked quietly.
Iyora shook her head no, “Sham’bala… it’s a shock to see her like this. I don’t know if her coming back to Ourrin’s side is a blessing or a curse from Elune.”
The Guardian merely pursed her lips and said nothing to that as they saw Ourrin stiffen in his saddle a bit, probably over the fact he sensed Iyora’s discomfort as his jaw tightened under his seemingly paper-thin skin. He dismounted Sham’bala with a pat to the now undead cat’s great flank (a gesture he used to always do when they were alive too, which made the hairs on the back of Iyora’s neck prickle like a fiend) and walked down to meet them both. As he walked, the cat sat down and oddly enough started to clean one of her there-not-there ghostly paws (apparently even death couldn’t stave off feline habits!) as the val’kyr flew up and cackled at the Twice-Born Commander.
“Great job Commander Ourrin! You unsettled her more with your dumb cat than I could have ever hoped to achieve!” she called, very much loud enough to be overheard by Iyora and Bovira.
Suddenly a great paw shot through the air and SLAM! Sham’bala had neatly swatted the annoying val’kyr thing under her giant front paws in another display that alive or dead, a cat was a cat no matter what. The saber opened her translucent paws a bit to see if her prey was still trapped within as a faint groan could be heard accompanied by a small flash of light that meant the val’kyr had teleported herself somewhere. Sham’bala grunted in disappointment and returned to her position and to grooming her ghostly form waiting on her master.
It was Iyora’s turn to smirk now as it did have a satisfactory feel of karma striking the cruel creature, but it didn’t last long as she saw another mounted from behind the familiar Moonsaber as there sat Ourrin’s second-in-command, the only Twice-Born Iyora found even more disturbing than her Uncle, Mayet. Mayet was Ourrin’s shadow in every way as wherever Ourrin was, Mayet wasn’t far behind. The female worgen sat there, her unwavering undead stare seemed to lock into Iyora’s gaze as the Keeper had to turn away, she couldn’t handle the intensity of that woman’s stare for too long. Elune help her, she had stared down a demon once during a mission, but she couldn’t hold Mayet’s eyes for more than a moment without her skin crawling.
In the meantime Ourrin had stopped a few paces away from them and bowed perfectly in greetings to them both, “Guardian Nightbreeze, a pleasure,” his unnatural voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a deep well despite him keeping his tone mellow with the two Sentinels.
“Commander Highblade,” Bovira bowed back in kind as Iyora followed suit, but a tad more stiffly.
“I have been sent to speak with my Niece on behalf of my Brother if I may,” his own unnerving gaze landed on Iyora as she wished she could pull her hood up over not only her head, but her face as well. Although she had to admit, Ourrin’s gaze wasn’t as harsh as Mayet’s, but then maybe Ourrin was modulating his somehow unlike Mayet. Ourrin always seemed more… considerate of the living than Mayet.
Bovira nodded at this, “Very well, I see this is of a personal nature. I will go give my respects to your Second then while you speak,” and with that she clasped her hands behind her back as she walked over to where Mayet was sitting on her mount.
“That’s going to be a very one-sided conversation,” Iyora muttered under her breath as Mayet brought new meaning to ‘silent as the grave’ when it came to trying to talk with her. She wondered if the worgen was in reality mute, but she also had heard her respond to Ourrin once or twice in the past.
Ourrin nodded as Bovira walked by as he pulled a letter out from his belt-pouch and held it out for Iyora to take. Trying not to make a face at him she took it rather hastily and saw her An’da’s handwriting on it addressing her. She didn’t open it yet, instead she finally raised her eyes to meet her Uncle’s otherworldly ones.
After a moment Ourrin finally spoke, “Your Father is concerned about you,” his echoing voice low, soft.
She eyed him for another awkward moment, did this creature just sound concerned for her as well?
“So he told you to come talk to me?” she winced as that came out far more accusatory than she had meant it too.
The Twice-Born didn’t even seem to notice her irritation with him or the situation, “He recieved your letter and spoke with me. He would come himself to see you, but I reminded him he had duties in Darnassus and that the Isles are an open warzone. No place for a family reunion.”
“Yet you’re here,” Iyora muttered again as she rubbed her thumb over the paper of the letter.
He didn’t rise to her childish baiting at all, “You can read the letter now if you wish.”
Ourrin didn’t have to tell her twice as she opened it and started reading.
Dearest Iyora,
I hope this letter finds you in a better place than the last letter you sent me seemed to have you at. I do not think you a fool my daughter, far from it, but at the same time, I do know love can make fools of us all. While it does sound like you have yourself in something of a pickle, it sounds like you already know the answer to the issue with your first friend there, you just need to do it. Soon rather than later would probably be the best bet, while I know you wish to do it in person, I do not think your lifestyle will give you such a chance and it’s better to just get it over with and make your intentions crystal clear to her. As long as you are firm and clear she should back off and I am sorry it came to this between you as it’s never easy to let someone go. If she persists, well, lets just hope she doesn’t and burn that bridge if and when we get there, eh?
As for your other issues… Oh Iyora, you’ve always had such a big heart. Watching you grow up, you’d love every saber you’d meet and it would always break your heart if we lost one. You’d always be out with me tending to wounds and illnesses when other girls your age would rather be out hunting with a bow and arrow. I knew one day you’d fall in love, and you’re somewhat right I was making that face while reading your letter, but your heart is your biggest asset and your biggest weakness. I know, because I have the same big heart and so does your Min’da, you are so our child. We just worry about you as we know you have a good head on your shoulders, but hearts can and will get people into trouble.
All in all, I just want you to be happy and I know you want to heal this boy, but are you sure he’s worth it? I am not criticizing you, just asking questions you should be asking yourself is all. Like you said, being a Sentinel is what you want right now and that is what you should be focusing on, yes?
I know I don’t talk about it much, but I have seen the devastation of using fel energy can bring, and I’m pretty sure with your second deployment in the Isles that you’ve probably seen it too. I don’t quite agree with the ‘Illidari’ stance of fighting fire with fire as in my experience that just gets your and everything around you burned. Your Mother, your Uncle and I, we all survived the War of the Ancients and the Sundering, it is hard for those as old as we are to trust these ‘Illidari’ (Couldn’t they have come up with a better name for themselves? Bah), but please Iyora, if he is using such powers willingly, I fear it cannot end well even if this path was forced upon him.
However I digress, again, I just want you to be happy my Kitten. If he makes you happy, then so be it, just be careful. But, as a concerned An’da I’m sending Ourrin to get a sense of the boy. Don’t get mad at him, he’s doing this on my request to make your old man feel better.
Next time you come home though, I’d love to meet your Heart-Sister Liall! Please bring her by, she sounds very nice.
Know I love you too and always will no matter what.
Love,
Your An’da
P.S. - You’re using protection, yes?
A hot tear escaped her watering eyes and splashed on the letter, blurring the ink in one spot as she quickly wiped her eyes (as well as the postscript making her suddenly blush furiously - An’da!!). Looking up through her moist lashes she noticed Ourrin had turned a bit to give her some privacy and was either not or pretending not to notice her reaction to reading her letter as he was looking off into the distance absent-mindedly stroking his chin stubble. The familiar gesture made her hair stand back on end again as she quickly folded up the letter and put it away in her own belt pouch. Elune, why did he do those things and freak her out? She remembered him doing that all the time when he was thinking, back when he actually had a fuller beard and would get out his long pipe to smoke a bit as well. Was it as An’da said and his former self was still there, just buried?
Finally his eye swung down as he turned to look at her, the moment of seeing her old Uncle again broken and lost as he said nothing, waiting for her to make the first move.
She cleared her throat, “Did you read it?”
“No,” the way he denied it rang like the noise of a hammer hitting a nail home, “It wasn’t addressed to me.”
This shade of her Uncle was a brutally honest one; Iyora relaxed a bit, “Now what?”
“I speak with your Vilaxian Dawnstorm,” his tone slightly more casual now, “Where can I find him?”
She wanted to squirm but restrained herself, “I don’t know. He could be anywhere…”
He could be watching us right now, she thought as she refused to let herself look up into the nearby treeline, however she was being honest, Vilaxian could be anywhere.
The Death Knight studied her carefully for a time, then his gaze rose up, over her head as he scanned the Sentinel camp behind her.
“Dawnstorm…” he muttered as icy shivers ran down her spine, “There’s a Sentinel of that name in your cadre.”
“Lieutenant Dawnstorm, his sister,” she replied quietly.
“Ah,” was all he said, whatever his intentions he wasn’t going to give anything away, least of all to her it seemed.
“D-d-don’t go and talk with her, s-s-she probably w-w-wouldn’t know where he is either,” her studder finally reared its head as she winced.
Again, those cold, cold eyes regarded her, “I wouldn’t, I’d just speak with Commander Wintershade.”
“No!” she yelped then flushed, how under the Blue Child did this man get under her skin so? She’d damn him, but he was already damned!
“So your Commander doesn’t know…”
“She also wouldn’t know where he is, he’s not welcome in camp,” she rapidly tried to change the direction that the conversation was going in, “And if you must know, it’s not exactly a secret, two of my senior officers know… about him and… me…” she flicked her eyes towards where Guardian Nightbreeze was with Mayet and started to envy her and her probable non-conversation with the other Twice-Born.
Ourrin didn’t follow her gaze, “What is the Sentinel policy on dealing with Illidari then?”
Physically deflating she told him, “We are not to go after them unless they attack us first, but we’re not supposed to associate with them unless the circumstances are dire.”
Silence descended between them as finally his gaze lifted off of her again and scanned around. He didn’t have to say anything her guilty conscious was doing enough damage inside of her as it was, this just brought it all back up for her.
Finally she whispered, “H-h-he’s not really an Illidari… just like you’re not really my Uncle.”
She saw the impact of the words hit Ourrin as his cool gaze, dimmed, the skin around his eyes crinkling up a touch, the air around them suddenly getting colder. She bit her lip as her heart leapt into her throat.
Sadness, bottomless sadness sprang up in those dead eyes, “Iyora… I…” he started, and for that split second, he didn’t sound like a Death Knight with their hollow, echoing voices, he sounded like how he used to sound, like the living, breathing Ourrin Highblade of yore that had saved her life once - the man that was her personal hero - and she just lost it.
“No! I am Keeper Silverhawk to you! I don’t know what you are, and you may have my An’da fooled, but you won’t fool me! My Uncle Ourrin is dead! You’re just some poor facsimile!”
Whatever the Twice-Born was going to say, it died on his frozen lips as they just pressed back together and his eyes renewed their chilly, still gaze. Turning crisply on his heel he said nothing more to her as he walked away, leaving her shaking with anger and remorse in his wake.
Bovira and Mayet had already been looking over as they both probably heard her last outburst as the Guardian nodded at Mayet and amazingly enough Mayet briefly nodded back as the Druidess left to return to Iyora’s side. In passing Ourrin, they both bowed again and said their polite farewells as Ourrin swung up into Sham’bala’s saddle as he urged her into a walk, Mayet’s mount instantly falling into stride next to them as they left.
The Guardian looked on Iyora with concerned eyes and asked for the second time this evening, “Are you okay Keeper?”
Just shook her head no, but didn’t elaborate further to her superior. Already she felt and inch tall, she shouldn’t have said that, she shouldn’t have said that… Oh Elune, I am horrible, terrible...
“Come on, let’s go get some breakfast,” Bovira said with reassuring smile and a hand on Iyora’s shoulder as she nudged the Keeper into starting to walk back to the camp proper.
As they walked back, she finally found her voice to reply, “I think I’ve lost my appetite.”
“You know why she yelled at you, don’t you?” the male voice died giving way to the hissing and crackling that let one know the Gnomish device was actually working (and not about to blow up, that was when it started whining as they had learned the hard way once… or twice).
Ourrin stood there for a long moment, not hitting the button so he could speak back to his Brother through the Gnomecorder. Mayet looked up at him briefly from her mapping something out on the papers spread out before her and gave him a knowing look, but didn’t say a word. They didn’t need to, theirs was a relationship where words weren’t always needed.
Mulling it over, he finally hit the button, “I pushed her too far.”
Jartsam’s voice came back over the speaker, “No, it wasn’t entirely that.”
Rubbing an eyebrow with a finger he was finding communication with the living tedious as usual, moreso today as he knew he shouldn’t have gotten involved in this. Why did he feel such loyalty towards this male?
It was a rhetorical question as he knew the answer, they were brothers, but moreso that Jartsam was still one of the very few to accept him as he was currently. Also one of the very few that he could go to for answers when his fractured memories decided to act up. The other was his daughter Sharina Sylversword, but she had her own mountain of issues, so he didn’t like imposing his problems on top of hers.
“You probably don’t remember, but you saved her life once. She used to idolize you,” Jartsam paused for a moment to let that sink in and then chuckled, “Heh, I remember she once came home from Temple with a bloody nose from a fight with another acolyte that had been bad mouthing your good name and our usually docile Iyora apparently stomped her.”
“She’s not all that docile,” he replied dryly thinking back to earlier this evening, “And I don’t believe I ever had a ‘good name’,” a bodiless cackle followed that from the ever present val’kyr annoyance hiding somewhere in the room.
Mayet got up to get something from across the room next to him as she put a hand on Ourrin’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. He gently lifted her hand to his lips for a moment before releasing it as she walked back to the desk.
Ourrin heard Jartsam sigh, “The point is, I feel with you she is still not over your death. It felt like betrayal to her for you to go off and die and now that you’re, well…”
“‘A poor facsimile of my former self?’” he quoted, banal.
“Elune, is that what she said?”
The Death Knight was not one to a) repeat himself or b) answer seemingly rhetorical questions so he just didn’t say anything as something of a grumbling noise could be heard over the line from Jartsam’s end.
“Aw, his little precious baby girl is just a big brat!” Serra cat-called from above them now, as he could pinpoint her location to be somewhere in the rafters above.
Mayet eyed the rafters of their room for a long moment, but then turned back to her papers, the worgen female had a propensity for attacking the val’kyr with her blood magics just on principle. His Second was also very good at biding her time.
The static broke to give way to Jartsam’s voice again, “She’s young… it’s probably just Kitten-love...”
“Don’t,” Ourrin stopped him dead, “She said her piece, the reasons aren’t important to the matter at hand. I will still go speak with this Vilaxian and get back with you.”
“Thank you Brother,” Jartsam signed off with a weary voice as Ourrin shut off the crackling machine back into stark silence.
Ourrin steeped his long fingers before him as he leaned back into his seat asking himself again why exactly he was doing this. However before he thought himself into a spiraling dark mood he felt Mayet slide up and press her body against his as he wrapped his arms around her. Her presence brought a measure of calm as the two just lay there, not saying anything as again, words were not required.
“By Odyn, you two are disgusting,” the val’kyr spat destroying the stillness which was promptly followed up by Mayet shooting a blood boil bolt, nailing Serra as the thing yelped and teleported off somewhere.
Silence descended once more as the two Death Knights just drank it in.
