DWC Nov 2025 Day 2 - Lucky/Heartache
TW: Mention of abuse
(Set before In Spirit: Gallery for the Departed)
As Nahi tried to pick an outfit for the gala from her almost-too-full spare bedroom closet, she felt an embarrassment of riches when it came to beautiful gowns, almost all of them thanks to Jes’champe. The man had exquisite taste, and his fondness for the unique meant that whenever she accompanied him to whatever function required a beautiful woman on his arm, he provided one-of-a-kind couture gowns, most tailored specifically to her.
It was clear that theirs was a transactional relationship, she was his escort that he paid for in clothing and jewelry. And she wasn’t complaining. Jes’champe was handsome, well-spoken, intelligent, and pleasant company. He was also controlling and possessive, which was precisely why they would never have more than what they’d shared for the past year.
Still, Nahi had been on his arm often enough that some of those gowns would soon need to go to a consignment shop before her closet overflowed. The money from their sale would be a nice little extra for the holidays, and this year, she actually had people she wanted to buy gifts for. Not that she needed the extra income, with her select performances she was doing well. But the past almost twenty years had made her frugal to the point of habit.
It was strange how tragedy could become a kind of blessing, as it had for her after the assault on Tempest Keep. Until then, Nahi had never once worried about money. Her needs, and most of her wants, had always been met, the privilege of being born into a noble house, though the wealth came not from titles but from her mother. A fact Acenadalia, reminded her father of constantly, and Nahi often enough that she learned to answer only with a polite “Yes, mother,” or “Yes, Diva,” depending on her mother’s moods. Some lessons she learned quickly, it didn’t take many instances of emotional, or sometimes physical, abuse for her to realize those answers were safer.
So when they were suddenly on their own in Dalaran, with nothing to their name and Acenadalia in a coma, Nahi realized how little she knew about money, or about life beyond privilege. She also discovered that banks took fraud very seriously. Not that she had tried to defraud anyone, but walking in and announcing that she was The Diva’s daughter and needed money from her mother’s accounts earned her a swift, humiliating reprimand.
Nahi dared not push the issue. She lived with a paralyzing fear of what might happen to the families who had followed the Prince. Would they be exiled? Stripped of their lands and titles? Declared enemies of the Sin’dorei? Her nightmares wandered through countless, darker possibilities, until she could scarcely bring herself to leave the house during the day.
Meanwhile, Irenthalas often brought home friends and colleagues who worked to ease the bruising on her mother’s brain and to soothe the dementia that followed. Their help was invaluable and staying made sense. Plus, it was clear that Iren, for a reason she couldn’t fathom, was deeply in love with her mother, and when they finally talked about it, he had been in love with her for decades.
But beyond practicality, there was something else. For the first time in her life, Nahi felt free. The sensation was intoxicating. She didn’t want to return to the gilded chains of being a Summerhold. She was learning, struggling, becoming.
That was when Irenthalas introduced her to consignment and thrift stores. To this day, he still chuckled about the look on her face when he explained what a thrift store was. Thankfully, for the delicate sensibilities she had then, she never had to shop in one, Iren had savings and was more than willing to outfit her with some clothing and set up a room for Acenadalia until she woke. He found work at a hospital quickly, and his salary covered most of their needs, including a part-time nurse, which allowed Nahi to start looking for work of her own.
Work, however, did not come easily. She didn’t know how to do much of anything useful. She tried, and failed, at a long list of things before hearing about places that hired dancers. That, she thought, she could do. But one step inside those establishments told her that her decades of training had not prepared her for that particular style of dance.
Her one other skill was singing. Her voice wasn’t as extraordinary as her mother’s, but she knew then that, from the few times being allowed to sing with her mother as a child, she could carry a tune well enough to start looking for places to perform. The only ones willing to hire her, though, were rougher venues, with little refinement in either reputation or clientele. Still, they would pay a pretty face to sing on stage, and that was enough.
Building a repertoire came easily, she could listen to recordings, learn the songs, and use them. As for her wardrobe, Iren gave her some gold to spend at consignment shops so she would look acceptable when she stepped onto a stage.
Those first months, while her mother remained in a coma, taught Nahi frugality and budgeting faster than any tutor could have. When her Acen finally woke, it took over a year to establish herself as her guardian. That meant access to more funds, but also had more expenses, nurses, medical care, and time. Even her mother’s wealth had limits, and Nahi could only guess how long it might last.
So she worked. She saved. She learned to make do with what she had. Those lessons shaped her still, helping her save to pay for school, restoring her family’s gardens, and updating her older house. If that meant some gowns went to consignment, so be it. They had been gifts, or payments, and she could do with them as she pleased.
(@daily-writing-challenge)
(@cityofdusk mention)
