Moment
A response piece to @weirdalar ‘s writing. I stole your format, you’re welcome.
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She knew the letter was from him before opening it. Who else had handwriting that...unique. She often liked to make fun of his penmanship but now she found herself glad it was so easy to identify.
The arrival of his letter caught her off guard, but with resignation she reminded herself that's how it always goes. She could deny her habits to herself all she wanted but she always kept an eye out for him in one way or another. Looking for his bright teal hair in the red and gold crowds of Silvermoon, or listening for his laugh when she just so happened to be passing through Ratchet.
The events of the war had caught her full attention, and naturally as soon as she dropped her guard he resurfaced once more. He always was good at surprising her.
She wanted to put off opening it, because even though she had seen him only months prior she was afraid of what it might say. She was always afraid of what he might tell her, because she believed that he eventually would close the doors she, unrealistically, yearned to walk through once again.
She trudged slowly into her house, followed by the ever diligent, ever destructive robot scorpid by the name of V.6 that was always seen clicking away at her heels.
Her house for once was clean. Clean of dirt, clean of papers. Clean of furniture and decoration and warmth. All that stood in the once cramped spaces were boxes of everything she had ever owned. She no longer wanted to live in Silvermoon, and the state of her house made that abundantly clear.
She settled onto one of the larger boxes; it clanked around but she paid the noise no mind. She pulled off her goggles and blinked at the golden light that shone from her eyes, reflecting off of the envelope in front of her. She still hadn’t gotten used to the change of her appearance, and in truth she wasn’t sure how she felt about it yet either.
All that had been happening; the new allies joining ranks of the Horde, the burning of Teldrassil, the bombing of Lordaeron, the war in general. It gave Tyrestra a lot to think about, and it made her afraid of the future.
She needed Alar. More than she did when her bed felt a little too big, or when her world felt a little too grey. She needed him to fix everything and make it right, like he always seemed to do.
V.6, poking idly at her feet, made an alarmed beeping sound as she ripped open the letter suddenly. Her eyes leapt from word to word as she read his unusually neat sentences, slowing down once she realized he wasn’t writing to tell her anything horrible.
She tore a piece of cardboard off of the box she sat on and rummaged around for a pen. Once she found one she scribbled a hasty reply to the Troll, not seeming worried about her last minute request.
“Eversong Woods, the hidden spot? I’ll see you there tomorrow night.”
