Follows the events of these stories ---> Here And this one ---> Here
So much had happened since that fateful, stormy day at Raerys’s house; it was hard to believe it had happened less than a year ago, it felt like so much longer. The inflicted wounds had since healed, leaving behind a round scar from a bullet on his shoulder and a jagged scar from a dagger on his abdomen; a growing collection at this point. The need for vengeance had really pushed his body to the limits and then some these past years.
The Shadowlands had opened up almost immediately following those events, and that had become the biggest blessing in disguise. Attention had been drawn to the bigger threat, and Ouro was able to find some sort of peaceful existence on Azeroth. At least for a little while. The demand for weaponry of all varieties arose, and as always Ouro was more than happy to provide to both military and mercenary alike - for the right price. The draw of the unknown eventually brought him into the Shadowlands for some time, but the novelty wore off soon enough and he found himself back at his usual routines.
These days, he spent most of his nights at the townhouse in Silvermoon City. The townhouse he has bought from Raerys previously, and now the one that they, sort of, shared. He essentially had his own apartment within the home, where no one would bother him and he could come and go as he pleased without notice. He was the one that requested Rae and her daughter, their daughter, to stay. After the incident with the assassin at her Eversong Woods cottage, this was the safest place for all of them.
Things between the two of them had improved, somewhat. There would always be that stubborn, cold, and unstable part of him, but he had become better at recognizing it and leaving the room if need be. There were even times when he held Olivia and felt almost normal again. It reminded him of those quiet moments way back when with his late son; him sitting on the couch and reading while the boy dozed against his chest. They were good memories, ones he appeared to be recreating now with his daughter. All of this clearly delighted Raerys to no end, and she was always more than willing to express her gratitude in whatever manner he requested of her.
Today was one of the quieter days, and Ouro found himself at his apartment’s kitchen table flipping through a newspaper with Olivia napping nearby in a crib. Eyes scanned through the obituaries, as was customary, pausing on a familiar name as a little smirk spread over his lips. A name he had learned and had become very familiar with over the past couple of years for various reasons. He had been waiting for this moment, knowing eventually it would happen. If not by someone else, then certainly by his own hand. There wasn’t much information on the ‘how’, which often meant that the death was due to something other than natural causes.
Aerden Lo’sharri Senior was dead. Another name he could check off of his list. The Lawyer
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