house of wrynn;

           Hey did you know I feel the same about you, that you are wonderful and brilliant and deserving of all goodness ever?

          “ I’m sure he had the thyme of his life. ”

          The answer, somewhere in her worried lines of her face, the storms behind her eyes, when he opens his own again: who we have to be, for now.

          “Pleading, was it? I can’t say I recall.” Such a dramatic way of Wrathion phrasing it, but that only earns a chuckle from Anduin, perfectly accustomed to that about him. “Agree to disagree, then. Besides, the last one to the kitchens is in danger of losing their share of the pie.”

          “I understand. You don’t have to explain unless you’d like to.” And certainly if she doesn’t feel up to it. For now, the relief flowing over Anduin is enough, that Aunt Jaina is well and whole. “I wouldn’t ask you this as a favor to me. More than anything, that decision should be based upon what you feel is best. If that happens to be here, you are welcome.”

          Anduin watches, silent for those few beats, as Sindragosa’s fingers come just shy of touch, the petals disturbed by her passing. “That sort of resilience is something to be admired.”

          A grin, wide and free, reaching his eyes, etching fine lines at the corners too rare and fleeting as days melt into weeks, months, a year. “And ruin a perfectly good wish? I wouldn’t dream of asking you.” This? This feels like remembering to breathe again, all that ache, all that weight, gone as they think about nothing but a blanket of sky. Anduin closes his eyes, just for a moment, and wishes, too.

          It reminds Anduin of a splash of cold water to the skin, that voice cutting through the silence. Sunset, sunrise. He doesn’t notice when the candle growing dimmer and dimmer no longer changes his ability to see what’s in front of him. “When it became necessary, I’m afraid,” he admits, words somewhat roughened from disuse. Outside, the city is already alive, the song of birds and toll of the tower as it marks the hour. “This will have to do. The couriers will be here soon. We should prepare to meet with them.”

        “I won’t presume to know why you returned or where you needed to be -- but I do hope you’ll consider my offer to stay as long as you like. You were never unwelcome here.” The loss, the changes. Easy to feel helpless, angry. Easy to place the blame where it doesn’t belong, on oneself or others. That Anduin had understood then as he understands it now.

          Even so, he can’t quite help the amused curl of his mouth. Apparently, the envoy is not nearly as thrilled by the token as Anduin is. There’s something refreshing, lightening, in the simplicity of honesty even if somewhat ill-timed. He likes to think there is genuine gratitude lurking somewhere in this attempt to reach out, at the very least. “Oh? I’m sure the magister means well all the same. May I see this gift?”

          “I didn’t know how they’d manage this far from the Isles, but I think you’ll be pleased to know your roses survived. They hardly needed my help at all.”

          “Many things have changed over the past year. You know that as well as I do. But my hope for what the future of Azeroth could be isn’t one of them.”

           “I know there’s a lot to be discussed, but I just want you to know I’m glad you returned. I’m glad you’re safe.” An I missed you, too, on the tip of his tongue that he holds back. He isn’t sure if it’s the time, after everything, but the relief he feels seeing her again speaks for itself.

          “Do I smell smoke?” His eyes look this way and that, searching for the source -- fire, charring, wisps on the air. Nothing, which can only leave so many explanations. Anduin can’t quite help the grin threatening to form. “Is there a problem by chance?”

          “Shooting star.” A hand lifts, marks the trail of cosmic embers through the night time sky. From the battlements of the Keep, the pinpoints that twinkle overhead are bright, unobstructed. “Do you believe in making wishes? I suppose this is as good a time as any to find out.”

          “I wasn’t aware Aunt Jaina and you were so well acquainted.” It’s a simple observation, but he’s hardly what anyone would call subtle, curiosity written plainly in the arch of his brows. “How did you meet?”

          Light’s Grace appears to greet Aura and her own horse like old friends, inclining her head and scenting with a huff. Both are familiar by now, and not to his mare alone. Anduin welcomes Aura’s company on these unexpected occasions, where the city’s security is called into question now more than ever before. “Not until matters are settled. I’m afraid I can’t join you outside the city, but I won’t turn down company here. I expect it’s going to be a long night.”