The sun was slowly going down as Arandoros made his way through the Silvermoon Gates. Heâd been at his shop all day, and it was with tired eyes that he made his way back home for the day. His steed was trustworthy as alwaysâhe hadnât given her a name, but she knew him and he knew her simply by looking at her.
It wasnât home that he was headed for, unfortunately, but the former Silverstorm Arcanery. It was now known as Emberflame Arcanery, and its current owner was the one Aran sought. He wasnât kidding when he said he wanted to learn that trick heâd pulled with the plates, but that wasnât the nature of this visit.
No, he needed Caelendras the enchanter. Caelendras the man he figured could at least help him figure out what was going on with his mind. It was getting more and more difficult to ignore it; magic was a big part of sinâdorei society after all, and was becoming more and more that way with everything happening in Draenor.
So he arrived on the doorstep, knocking firmly three times, but not entering. He was oddly nervous.
He could see the door read âclosed,â but as a fellow shop owner he figured the man would still be taking care of some sort of business. And sure enough, shortly after heâd knocked, he was greeted by the silver-haired man heâd grown to know as Lydianahâs friend and, apparently, a skilled magic-user. There was no sort of aura about him, or at least there was nothing overtly obvious, but Lydi had mentioned before that the man had been a professor in Dalaran at one point or another. Just the thought made him uncomfortable, but he needed the manâs help.
âAh, Master Sunforge. Long time no see,â Caelendras said with a smirk. âWhat brings you to me so late?â He leaned against the doorframe with some ease, both keeping him relaxed and ensuring the door didnât close, bumping his rear instead.
âI told you at the after-party,â Aran said with a bit of a smirk of his own. His arms crossed and brows rose, tilting his head. âI want you to teach me that trick. Oh, and please, not Master Sunforge. Reminds me too much of my father. For you, itâs Arandoros, or even Aran.â He didnât step forward, knowing how frustrating it was when someone showed up after hours.
That being said, his voice soon adopted a more serious tone, as did his face. âI hope Iâm not too late, butâŚI had a request. A problem, I guess, that I thought you could help me with.â He sighed, almost looking deflated. âIâm sorry, I know itâs lateâŚbut can I come in?â
At first, Aran wasnât sure if he was going to say yes. Heâd really only been in the manâs presence a handful of times, the majority being when he came by to visit Lydi at the shop and found Caelendras within. But eventually, the mage stood upright and held the door open, gesturing widely in invitation. He though he saw a moment of mourning in the manâs eyes, but he smiled at Cael while the man spoke.
âBy all means, Arandoros.â
Once the blacksmith had passed by he closed the door and locked it again, waving a hand to pull the shades down. Perhaps it was that he did not know the nature of Aranâs problem, or perhaps it was simply habit, but the man was a magus and saw no harm in using his magic thusly.
The door was closed and locked behind him, likely to keep prying, unwanted customers from entering. Aran knew the drill pretty well, and would have smirked had he not gone rigid. He turned, eyes locking on the magically moved shades. His body gave an involuntary, unpleasant shiver that he had to suppress simply by tensing his shoulders for a few moments. Eventually he was able to relax somewhat, but that had been enough to put him on edge.
âMake yourself comfortable,â Caelendras said ironically, though he probably didnât even know what heâd done. He gestured to a small area that housed a table and three chairs, but paused and glanced to the blacksmith. âWould you like something to drink? Tea, perhaps?â
âTea sounds nice,â Aran said with a nod, though it was rigid. âI need something to relax myself,â he said in explanation as he walked toward the table gestured to. The shiver had culminated in a spike of pain behind his right eye that he wasnât entirely unfamiliar with, but a gasp punctuated the end of his words nonetheless, as did a rubbing of the spot with an open palm.
He groaned as his ass found a seat, leaning forward on his elbows and staring at the wood of the table. âStrong as you can make it,â he said in request, moving his eyes to watch the mage. Gods, did he hope Cael could help. He was sick of not knowing if a certain evening was going to go well, determined only by whether he encountered something magical. And walking through Silvermoon was almost a guarantee, at least during the day, that magic would impact you.
âOr would you rather have a real drink?â he heard Cael ask in a teasing tone, as though he simply thought Arandoros was stressing about something small. âPerhaps one with a shrimp on the rim? Or I could lace your tea with bourbon.â
Another shiver rolled up the opposite side of his spine, another spike of pain behind his other eye. He could still see, and so his pained gaze moved to the mage, practically glaring at him as he worked his magic. But his back was to Aran, so he couldnât see the pain. Why couldnât he justâŚjust arrange the tea without his conjuring tricks??
âWhat kind do you prefer? Iâve green, black, chamomile, herbal, lemon, citrus, and mint.â
More magic was used, and now the pain was drifting down the back of his head toward his neck. Shoulders locked and jaw clenched, Aranâs hands had come together, fingers white-knuckled as he tried to suppress the pain.
âUnless you really would prefer I pour you a stiff one. In that case I have bourbon, whiskey, a few bottles of Dalaran Red, a dry Blush, and strawberry wine.â
The more magic that was used, the more it affected Arandoros. The headache hadnât quite gone away after the initial, albeit minor, cast to bring the drapes down. It had certainly intensified, if nothing else. Arandoros almost didnât even hear the first question, and he answered it through gritted teeth. âGreen is fine,â he said, then gasped again. âLace it with bourbon. A good bit of bourbon.â He took a long, slow breath and exhaled, trying to calm himself down, and it did work. âNo..not completely alcoholâŚit wouldnât help.â He closed his eyes, jaw working and the muscles in his neck clenching. âJustâŚtea with bourbon. Thatâs all.â
âTea with bourbon it is,â he said, and blessedly stopped using his magic to prepare. Little did Arandoros know that those would be the best words he would hear all evening. With them, the pain completely lifted from his form. His body shuddered, loosening muscles that shouldnât have been so tightened, and even forced a sigh from him. He smiled, relishing in the heaven of having no magic worked around him. After wiping his eyes vigorously he looked to Cael, realization dawning. Once the magus had called everything down from the shelves it was his hands that worked, pulling out packets, bringing cups over, and settling them along with saucers and spoons on the table with the packets already in them. ~Thank the gods,~ Arandoros thought as Cael sat down.
The bourbon was settled in the middle of the table before Caelendras simply said, âThe water will take a bit to boil. Why donât we begin our chat in the meantime?â He spoke softly, clearly having seen the relief that had crossed Aranâs features. Did he know, then? âSomething tells me this is quite the unpleasant thing.â
Aranâs eyes rested on the bourbon in the middle of the table, blinking a few times. He then shook his head firmly, as though denying himself the drink that Cael seemed to be offering. âYes, that chat sounds like a good idea,â he said with another sigh, looking directly at Cael.
[ caelendras and lydianah for mentions. And a little teasing jab at secretlyshadowy :3 ]
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