Dalah’surfal Ilandros
Somberly Sylyssa stood at her window gazing out over the city of Suramar, her mind drifting off far to times when life was more pleasant. Simpler. A life that promised to be nothing but blissful. A life before she was Shal’dorei. As she thought back a lump began to form in her throat, and she involuntarily began to fiddle with her silver hair. Hair that easily reached down to the small of her back. She did not even hear the footsteps coming from the staircase leading up to the room she resided in.
“Min’da?” Began another feminine figure, “Are you alright?”
The sudden break in the relative silence gave the elder woman a start, so lost was she in her thoughts. Blinking her eyes instinctively she turned to the origin of the voice to behold her daughter standing just within the doorway. She looked so similar to herself; as well as a bit of her father. Face slightly rounded with gentle features. While she herself had eyes that were more feline in shape her daughter had those closer to a hawk. Just like her father. She also lacked the long hair, having it cropped short, and the more modest dress that her mother wore. Sporting instead a pair of burgundy pants and a tight fitting white and burgundy halter top that generously showed her abdomen, much to her mother’s displeasure. Quickly composing herself she gave her a reassuring smile, her gentle features naturally adding to the expression. Seeming to radiate kindness.
“Anu’dora, my dear I’lyna,” she lied, not wishing to reveal the agony she was feeling. “I am well.”
A frown spread across I’lyna’s face at this, stepping up to her mother she slid her slender arms around her and rested her head against her mother’s cheek. “You’re thinking of An’da again, aren’t you?”
A sigh escaped her when the younger woman guessed correctly at what was secretly eating away at her. Embracing her tightly she planted a tender kiss atop her head, the lump returning in her throat, making her voice crack slightly “Am I… that easy to read now?”
I’lyna said nothing, instead holding onto her mother tighter. She had never met her father. The man who had won her mother’s unwavering love and admiration. She had heard her speak of him countless times, but a sadness always filled her mother after each retelling of her life mate. She slowly told herself to not ask about her father very often, out of love for her mother.
But Ilandros would still creep into Sylyssa’s thoughts every so often regardless.