Braedyn sat quietly on the stone bench and looked over the harbor. She had called the city ‘cosmopolitan’ and enjoyed learning her streets, but she would be glad to get back to Silvermoon--eventually. She would have stayed a few weeks, given her druthers, but the paperwork provided was not currently so charitable.
Charity. That’s what she was here for. To help the ‘cobblers’ raise funds and fun for orphans in Stormwind. Mr. Crowe had said his interest in the endeavor was a story for another time--she would remind him of that before too long. Braedyn loved a good story--fact or fiction.
Generous with their time, their smiles, and their kindness, Braedyn again wondered who this band was and how it had come to form its kind-of family. She was, understandably, watched and measured. The baker from Silvermoon was thankful for their care of her though--she had never been to Stormwind and it had been a thrill she had needed. Perhaps they had not known how much she needed it, but, then again, perhaps they had seen a like spark in her. They had known how to get her the fix she needed.
Cityfolk had eyed her over, but reading the exact shade of her eyes had been difficult and most had kept their mouths shut. A woman passing out cupcakes to children and faire goers couldn’t be that bad, right? Right.
She had snuck out of her room at night. Slipped through streets and alleyways like a stray cat. Old town had been her favorite, but the docks had been the most lucrative. Greedy for adventure and adrenaline, Braedyn had prowled her way across the foreign city.
Tomorrow she would head home and back to her bakery, to prepare for the Open House. She sighed and turned the toy, a copper racer from Kahleem, over in her hand again, before leaving it outside a Darnassian family tent where small hands were sure to find it.
There were too many children with sad stories written on their souls.
The diminutive brunette's eyes blew wide, as she accepted the check from the Magister, and she craned her head back to meet the redhead's gaze, "This is...too generous, sir -"
"Lady Whitedawn insists, I assure you."
The long, lean man in his scarlet robes cut a powerful figure - especially in the lobby of the humble animal shelter and veterinary office that operated out of Falcon Square. He sported long hair even redder than his robes - richer in hue than even the crimson cupolas capping the tallest towers of Silvermoon - draping down his back; jewelry scattered across long, thin fingers - not enough to be gaudy, but enough to speak to wealth, and power; and the warmth of his voice soothed - a true gentleman, poised and genteel. And unlike most of the nobility she was used to dealing with? His eyes didn't glaze over when speaking to her.
She'd heard the rumors about the Lady Whitedawn, and her demon's horns... but the donations came at regular intervals, and it wasn't her job to pass judgement, after all. Who could truly be all that terrible, that cared so deeply for animals in need? Who could give so very much of their own vast fortune without a thought, and for something that would never benefit them personally? Altruism was not a hallmark of demons - that much, she knew.
"If there's aught else you should require in the meantime, don't hesitate to contact the Whitedawn estate - my Lady is often away on business, but I'm nigh ever-present. Until next time, wind be at your back, my lady."
She sighed, watching him go - wondering if she'd ever be brave enough to finally ask the mysterious man with hair you could positively drown in, to coffee.
@daily-writing-challenge
((Lily used to date someone who was helping build an animal shelter/veterinary office - and despite what she tells herself, and others... who she was is far from being truly lost, or her ill-gotten gains wouldn't always have a portion set aside for this very establishment. ))
Rethea stared over at her Laundry Chair, eyeing the nearly endless pile of underthings she collected weekly. Her dress was laid out on the bed, spotless as usual. All she needed to do was decide what to put on underneath it.
And decide if she was actually going to do this. The last time she’d visited the Darkmoon Faire, she’d been attacked. Worse, it hadn’t just been her that had been threatened. But…
She locked eyes with herself in the mirror, trying to ignore the foreign color that stared back since the Void. She had to deal. Andy was gone. Alojz had disappeared as well, rather recently. She was going to have to remember what it was like to be self-sufficient. Crowds left the voices screaming and her mind spinning, but… when she was little, the Faire had been a place of peace. She wanted to feel that comfort again.
Reth moved to the Laundry Chair and rummaged, pulling out a fuchsia bustier and matching thong. The brighter, the better, honestly. She liked the idea that nobody looking at her dress would know what was underneath it. It took a bit of careful breathing and lacing to get the top on, but at least the panties were easy.
She knew better than to pull the dress over her head; her hair wouldn't let her. So she puddled her sleeveless dress at her feet and then pulled up, getting it into place before carefully zipping up the back. Her hair writhed for a moment, and then settled down against her back.
Her gloves were already on, but she tugged them into place all the same as she searched for her shoes. Deep breath. Deep breath. She could handle not having backup.
****
She could not handle not having backup. The food vendor was trying to upsell her for alcohol, and wasn't taking no for an answer. She'd been arguing with the Tauren, who insisted he remembered her order from last time, when she'd been here with Andennaris, when out of nowhere another Sin'dorei intervened.
Well. She felt immediately that he wasn't just a Sin'dorei, because he stepped close to her and she didn't feel warmth. She cocked her head, side-eyeing him, and saw the tell-tale empty eyes of a death knight. He set a pouch of coins down on the counter, and repeated her order to the Tauren.
"Just batter the frog legs."
And then he was gone. The Tauren obeyed the coin, and she picked up her food, immediately forgotten as she searched the crowd for her helper.
He was easy to spot. His outfit was impeccable; his face and hair the same. She sidled up to him on instinct and then immediately hated herself for it. Especially when he didn't seem particularly interested in her.
But she couldn't run now, could she? She felt positively greedy for attention these days. Her friends were gone, and stepping out of the Void, changed, had taught her all about the need to make new friends. Especially among other outcasts; she felt more comfortable with death knights than she did with most anyone else.
When she found him, she was well aware of who she was actually missing. Even more so when they went to the beach to fish, and then got distracted. Which she'd done herself, while realizing this wasn't a good idea. Not when the familiarity was so strong.
Her hair, initially, told her that something was wrong. But she was used to that, by now. And the more time she spent with him, the less the voices complained, until all she wanted to do was listen and touch.
And then she'd told him just how different she was, underneath all the illusions.
But that wasn't a bad thing, right? Everyone else she'd known and touched over the past few months had been… helpful to making herself feel comfortable in her skin.
So she let her fingers run over the scars he showed her, and ignored the most persistent voice in her head, which insisted she needed to leave, right now.
But the voices lied sometimes. And it was nice to have someone to touch.
The voices did tell her to summon Tangnuz, and that was reasonable, so she obeyed. While her Voidwalker patrolled, they would be safe. While he was there, she and her demon would be linked. So if anything happened to her….
She hated being a warlock, but she had to admit… it made forgetting about the world around her much easier, sometimes. And that's what she wanted the most, in the moment.
So she swallowed her awkwardness, looked up at him, and then rose onto her toes, bumping her nose against his and asking for a kiss.
Most of the voices were muddled and disinterested. But one? One screamed that she was making a mistake. A tentacle wrapped around her neck, and she ignored it.
They hadn't steered her right so far. How would this be different?
For a moment, her entire body shivered, and she had a vision of her holding her arms out, wrists up. Surrendering.
She sent you? The voices in her head were grim. Fine. I'll kill her when we get there.
Tangnuz hissed and crept closer as he felt her distress, but then the death knight she'd teased with the chance of a kiss leaned in, and Light, all thoughts fled fast before his tongue. After years of avoiding it, touch was so good. She wanted to feel so badly.
Dawn had yet to break leaving the sleeping city streets lit up with a blue dreamlike hue, the rains of the previous night left puddles in the cobblestone walkways, Mitharios' had no care to avoid them, his tall leather boots preventing any water from getting in. Shop owners had only just begun their sleepy start to the day, opening their doors for any early birds that might have a need, and offering a wave to the focused elf. Mitharious wasn't the most social, rarely speaking a word more than needed and so he responded with a simple tip of the hat, continuing onward to a specific destination.
The past few weeks had been overwhelmed with contracts, most within the Shadowlands, more specifically Torgast, searching room after room and floor after floor to no avail and finally handing the task over to some of the best in his crew, returning to the living realm to catch up on the other side of the business. Black Market deals, appraising items to fence, and loans, every venture set up to make the most capital with little effort.
Criminal work comes with its problems, the possibility of getting caught and tossed in jail, death, or worse losing everything and still drawing breath...rats and thieves.
Arriving at the little shop for repairing leather and mail armor, a front for laundering profits and doing other business, appearing nice and respectable all the while. Walking through the door and the bell above rings, alerting the Leathersmith to the arrival of a customer. "Aye! Welcome welco-Boss! Ay, it's good to see ya back outta the Shadowlands, didn't expect ya for a few more weeks." The man chuckled nervously.
"Henry." Mitharious removed his fedora and locked the door behind him, approaching the counter with heavy footsteps on the wood floor, saying nothing until he came to lean on the counter, smiling in a way that only unnerved the Leathersmith further. "Yes, I am." Mitharios' dark eyes peered at Henry, nearly looking through the man with an intense gaze that grew more intimidating as his smile began to fade.
"What's the problem Boss?" Henry quarried, the Boss might not talk much but silence never felt safe.
"You tell me, Henry. What possible reason could I have to step away from the highest-paying contract we've gotten?"
"I-I don't rightly know, Boss." Henry played dumb, not a difficult task for someone who tried to lie to Mitharios' face. "Somebody rat?"
The response took Mitharious aback, his head canting to the left. "Interesting, and who is this rat, do you think?"
Henry gulped hard, fighting to find his voice. "N-not m-me Boss." He let out a poorly faked laugh.
"No, not you. You wouldn't talk would you Henry?" Mitharious stepped a little closer, standing tall like a dark and looming omen.
"No Boss! I don't want to go losing my tongue or nothin' like that!"
"Why so tense Henry? The way you act makes me think you expect trouble." Mitharious kept an even, yet intimidating tone.
"N-no reason Boss. Didn't sleep great is all." Henry did his best to focus on the item he was repairing, hoping doing the work would help calm him.
"Restless are we?"
"Aye, should really replace that bed."
"You should, can't have a man rolling in as much coin as you sleeping on anything less than down."
"Wha-"
Moving in the blink of an eye Mitharious went from across the counter to standing just behind Henry, grabbing the man by the back of the head and slamming it into the hard wooden counter. "You've been skimming Henry." Mitharious tisked, picking Henry up and spying the broken nose and gushing blood.
"N-no Boss! I wouldn't!" Henry protested, swearing to his innocence.
"No! I wouldn't!" Mitharious repeated mockingly before slamming a fist into Henry's face. "Let's be honest Henry, it'll be less painful." Another heavy-handed punch into his face.
"It wasn't me!" Another punch, this time knocking him to the ground in a whimpering pile.
"Henry." A swift kick to the Leathersmith's ribs, and then another, and another. "Henry?" Mitharious queried.
Henry coughed at first, gasping for breath before finally speaking under his breath. "It was me..."
"What was that?" Mitharious asked, wanting Henry to announce his truth.
"It was me!" Henry coughed.
"That's a shame, a Leathersmith really needs both hands." Mitharious threatened, still standing tall above the crumpled man.
"I do, Boss. I am sorry. I will give it all back."
"Yes, you will give every copper back but you and I both know that isn't enough. What kind of standard would that set?" Mitharious then straddled Henry, crouching over him with a wild smile. "Both hands are needed, but both eyes? I think one would do."
From outside the shop, blood-curdling screams could be heard, muffled just slightly by the door until it opens, and Mitharious steps out, in his right hand the single eye. "Get a patch for that Henry, can't have you scaring the children."
"I have lived a charmed life, even among such tragedy and upheaval. As the embers of my family home cooled I was whisked from house to house by an unknown adult who so desperately wanted to find a suitable home for me only to be met with slammed doors, I didn't understand then, why someone would turn away a child in need. Fel I still don't.
It wasn't until we came to the Solarmight estate, I swear Papa Locien didn't think about it twice before he welcomed me into his home and family. And I was, while Drissa and I didn't always get along, in fact, I remember a brutal prank war that ended with the family China cabinet crashing to the ground. I expected to be turned out after that but all Locien did was laugh, telling us we fought so hard against one another although we are two peas in a pod.
Everything changed after that, Drissa and I were partners in crime from that moment on. Even though I am an Orphan my life has still been blessed and overall happy.
But that is not the case for so many children in this world. I spend every other weekend at one of the Orphanages in the cities, giving each whatever help I can supply. Except Children's Week.
Don't get it twisted, I fully support the event and all so attend. I just would hate to cause a child not to get adopted because they are attached to me. I love them all, but I cannot give them the home they need, so I stay away.”
