#alessandre

"HEY! STOP THAT THIEF!" Shouts echoed all around her as she ran away, her arms filled with the food she had managed to steal from the mead hall. Hands reached out to grab her, but her small stature meant she could slip through them easily, weaving and twisting as she sprinted, her claws skittering across the dusty ground of Raven's Rock.

"Someone get that cat!" The bar owner yelled as guards chased her. She glanced back, grinning when she saw the ever increasing distance between them.

"Close the gates!" A guard cried, but it was too late. She slipped through the gates, sprinting down the road as fast as her legs could carry her. She turned, her tail flicking to counter her weight, and sprinted into the dunes surrounding the city until the sounds of shouting and rattling armour could not be heard.

"Well, this one has not felt so alive in quite a while." She laughed, tossing a sweet roll up into the air before catching it. She bit into the baked good as she walked, sunlight dappling the ash-covered ground around her. She didn't know exactly where she was, but she knew it was Nirn. The air smelled different and there wasn't an overwhelming sense of despair hanging over her.

"It is simply a shame that poor Brak'aath must suffer in order for this one to do this." She murmured as she took another bite. It had taken alot of begging and large eyes before she had convinced the Daedra to assist her.

"Your majesty must remain in the realm. Those were master's orders." Her bodyguard had sighed as he walked with her.

"This one will only be gone for a short while, Brak'aath. And she never knows when she will get another chance like this." She had argued.

"But master....."

"Will be none the wiser for it, provided you keep this a secret." She had finished. "Please Brak'aath, for this one?" She asked, her eyes wide as she looked at him. He looked away, his arms folded before surrendering.

"Fine. But I will not take responsibility for when master finds out." He said, pointing at her. She laughed before hugging him, making him pause.

"Thank you Brak'aath." She grinned before running off to find the spell book she needed.

Her ears twitched as she heard something moving nearby. Holding the sweet roll in her mouth, she summoned fire to her hand, ready to attack. Only to pause when a young Nord emerged from over the dunes. He froze when he saw her, looking her up and down before his gaze hardened.

"Did they send you out to find me, cat?" He snapped, sliding down the dune to stand before her. She shook her head, shaking her hand to end the spell before tilting her head to one side. The sweet roll was still in her mouth as he walked around her, her arms shifting slightly to better support the food she held.

"Never saw you in the house I served in. So, which one do you serve?" He demanded. "There's no way a Khajiit would be here if they didn't serve one of the houses." He stated before pausing when she continued to look at him. "Do you even know what I am saying?" She raised a hand, taking a bite of the sweet roll before holding the remaining half out to him.

"This one is not a slave, in the traditional sense." She began. "She is merely here visiting, whilst her husband is busy with other plans."

"Husband? How old are you?" The Nord asked her, taking the sweet roll before devouring it quickly.

"This one is sixteen years old." She replied as she looked at him. "Is it not common for females to have husbands at such a age?" She asked, not realising it was odd.

"You're not sixteen." He insisted suddenly. "You're so small. There's no way you could.....OW!" He yelled out as she slapped him, her claws catching his flesh.

"This one is not that much shorter than you!" She snapped before tilting her head. "And surely, one should introduce themselves before insulting another, yes?" She asked. "This one is Azirina Kharabbi." She bowed before him.

"I'm Alessandre." He replied, rubbing his arm where she had caught him. She tilted her head before holding out some of the food to him.

"Here. You appear to need this more than this one." She said, watching as he grabbed some of the meat she had stolen. He sat on a nearby rock, tearing into the food with a ferocity she had only seen in starving daedroths. She moved to sit beside him, her ears going flat as blue eyes locked onto him, pausing when she saw a brand.

"Ah, you've seen it?" He asked.

"You bear the mark of Molag Bal?" She replied, reaching towards it. "How?"

"It was branded onto me by one of those bastards who kidnapped me. They wanted to sacrifice me to him. Said it would start something." Alessandre explained as he ate some more of the food.

"The second planemeld?" She asked, watching him nod.

"How do you...."

AZIRINA! They both jumped as a voice roared out across the sky, anger booming like thunder. She was on her feet in an instant, her own mark burning.

"He has found this one." She gasped before turning and going to flee, only to be tripped by the chains around her heart. She scrambled to get to her feet as a portal opened nearby, a large, clawed hand reaching out. It grabbed her legs, starting to drag her back.

There you are, kitten. I told you to stay in the palace.

"Master, no! Please! This one just wanted to see Nirn! She did not disobey!" Her claws tore into the earth, leaving gouges within the dust from the red mountain.

Do not lie, my bride. Brak'aath told me everything. You will be punished.

Alessandre watched in horror as the Khajiit was dragged into the portal, begging and screaming as she fought to escape. Her final scream as she was pulled through echoed through the air, even after the portal closed.

Several years later

Alessandre threw back the last of his mead before turning to his partner. "Say, Lavender." He began. "Did I ever tell you about the time I saw a Khajiit get dragged through a portal to Oblivion as a teen?"

The purple haired Dunmer woman hummed slightly. "Really? That's awful." She said, not really focused on the conversation. Until about a minute later, when what he said hit her.

“Your brother is a soldier. This is a family made to support fighters, just like yourself. Your father and I accepted it when Sharpen went over to Kul Tiras as well. It was a difficult decision, true. And if—”

The first thing Sharpen’s father had said all evening since Wisthera told them the news, “When. It’s ‘when’ Sharpen comes back, from now on in this house.”

Sharpen’s mother nodded her agreement. “Of course. When he returns… I will have to give him a pop on the head for writing this lover of his a farewell note and not his own mother.”

Wisthera glanced at Alessandre, for him to speak up on the subject. “Jiroki Glaivefall is held in high esteem by all who know her. Even the people who fall out with her spend a lot of time wishing they could fall back in—”

Wisthera muttered, “Not helping, Al…”

“Like myself. I work for her, through her mercenary group, The Greyshields. She’s our Shieldmother. A former Sentinel, trained as a Warden too, I believe. She’s a wonderful…” Al paused, wondering if he should mention the rest. “A wonderful person. I feel guilty leaving her to do all the fighting, actually.”

Wisthera arched an eyebrow, “If you want to keep what’s left of your marriage to Opal? Al, you keep your butt on Azeroth.”

Grumbling, “…I know that.”

Sharpen’s father Mr. Faol Jadescythe took his napkin and spread it on his lap. He started to serve his wife some mashed potatoes, then handed the dish over to Jezzca, their only other child still at the table. He hummed in thought, then said, “But, Wizzy, your brother also knows that he is a soldier and some conflicts are great enough that people should forgive us if we’ve got to go. And Al, from what I remember that last time we spoke… was it a few years ago? At Wisthera’s anniversary party?”

Wisthera’s husband Onyx and their son Reaper were there as well, quiet till now. “Yes, that’s right.” Onyx smoothed a hand down one of his long white braids, an old habit, then accepted the bowl of potatoes from Jezzca. Reaper had to help his anxious father finish up, before passing the dish again. Onyx was brother to Al's estranged wife. Onyx might soon have to explain his own absence to that side of the family before long, they all knew it. Things were quiet for a while, as those at the table thought through their own impressions of the Shadowlands, the rumors and nightmare stories leaking back.

Faol solemnly nodded, “Well. Al here is the sort of man made to go and mow enemies down, too. This conflict may call all our able-bodied sons and daughters to battle before too long. This is Azeroth, this is life. That’s how it is.”

Wisthera took her husband’s hand and squeezed it.

Jezzca got pointed at again, not to sign up for any fighting. “Okay! MOM!”

“And you talk to your mother more respectfully. It’s Pilgrim’s Bounty for Elune’s sake.” Mrs. Felina Jadescythe started eating, signaling the rest that it was okay to do so as well. “My son is a soldier, that is true. And we are all very proud that he followed in the footsteps of the High Priestess to do what is right, not just for our people but also for the Alliance. And, for Azeroth.” The sound of their knives and forks tapping along plates filled the festive decorated room. Low candlelight thankfully helped soften some of the more worried expressions. “…And I’ve seen Mistress Glaivefall, I believe. Though she probably wouldn’t realize it or recognize me. At the local farmer’s market. If it's the same woman I saw, Jiroki Glavefall? She has land in Pandaria, then. Not far from here."

Wisthera nudged Alessandre to confirm. He nodded at their mother, that it was true.

Feline tried to smile as she went on, "If I had known that was her, the uh, nice lady our son was spending time with, I would have introduced myself. Of course, I would have. Sheryl Tenderpaw pointed her out to me from across the way, and said that our neighbor was a very accomplished woman, an ex-Sentinel. And she really is lovely, Faol—”

Sharpen’s father grunted, cut into his turkey.

“Faol, she’s tall and athletic, like Jezzca. Green hair…” Mrs. Jadescythe eyed her two daughters returning to the table. Both were older than Sharpen. Hiyuna had her arm around Liziqi and helped her re-take her seat. “I was just saying, Sharpen’s… friend, his lady friend, is very beautiful and hard-working. Someone to be very proud of. He’s done well.” Feline neatly laid a piece of ham on her tongue, chewed, and swallowed before admitting the rest, “With four really sweet children who love green apples if I can recall. Oh, they were the sweetest things at the market! And very well-behaved too. Mistress Glaivefall asked them to wait in line for their treat and that’s just what they did. Very young, about two-years old I’d say. And the other was a toddler, but a little younger, I think. Though I only saw three children out that day. I hear the last girl is grown, an adopted daughter. Which shows Jiroki has a good heart.”

Faol Jadescythe stopped eating. This was overwhelming, even for the sort of man to father Sharpen Jadescythe.

Jezzca blurted out, “Wait. She has four kids?”

Hiyuna, a grown woman herself, stabbed the slice of ham on her plate. “Well, what's wrong with that, Jezzca? Don't judge him. Sharpen doesn’t find nice girlfriends or boyfriends so easily—isn’t he going through enough right now?”

Liziqi had a big drink of wine, “In the hell he’s putting us in, just because he couldn't find his girlfriend? I’d say not enough.” Hiyuna and Liziqi were the ones who mostly helped with the farm. They were a lot tougher and more sensible than Jezzca, with her costly purple hair dye that she kept up at the Stormwind barber’s constantly, and reputation for giving even the Sentinels a run for their money when she was just a new initiate. They didn’t have the advantages of a fast city life like their two younger siblings did, and their undyed, dark green hair, as well as plainer clothes more reflected a simple life. Sharpen was also reportedly dyeing his hair wild colors, and even rumored to be in some kind of extravagant performance troupe.

Wisthera tried to move things on by agreeing with the best of the bad tidings, “Jiroki is -not- his girlfriend, but she is someone Sharpen cares a lot for, and yes, she is a really nice person. Like Al said.”

Sharpen’s mother paused eating, finally putting two and two together. She rolled her eyes briefly, at Sharpen’s empty chair. “Well, knowing Jiroki had four children would have only encouraged your brother. He’s always adopting sweet little creatures. And um, Faol?”

Faol had already put down his knife and fork. His wife’s telltale sweet voice suddenly coming through wasn’t a good thing in his experience.

“You’d like Jiroki’s husband, I hear he’s a very accomplished Demon Hunter. Perhaps, if…” she struggled, “Well, we should be sure of… things, first. But we could perhaps have them over to the house sometime for dinner. What do you think, Wisthera?”

Wisthera, Sharpen’s oldest sister, finally decided she had said enough for the holiday. Done enough, even. She pressed her lips into a thin line, got up and busied herself with placing Sharpen’s folded letter back in its white envelope, and then on the mantlepiece. Her husband Onyxbane joined her too, pretending it was a great big job that needed two people.

Faol Jadescythe simmered for a long while, as his wife went on chatting with Alessandre who was seated on her left. “… Of course, I can see how that might happen. There are all kinds of marriages these days. It’s creative, but I’m sure it’s loving enough. With all these wars, people do what they have to, I’m sure. Another thing--I hate to say it, but you know Sharpen would have never had a shot at a great woman like Jiroki Glaivefall otherwise. I love my son, I do, but he can be very, very silly.”

Faol finally erupted, “MARRIED?!”

-fin-

How horrible and how selfish. My whole family happened to be in Suramar during the War of the Thorns, when Teldrassil fell. The Jadescythes were busy doing something you’d expect a family like mine to be doing, having a silly reunion with a bunch of Nightborne who didn’t really want to know us. Anyway, that’s a long story. My sisters and my mom and dad can fill you in on that.

But when it came to the Scourge attacking? When I finished my duties in Drustvar and for Kul Tiras and decided to cool my heels and even invite you up to the cabin to join me too? Looking back, that was wrong. My hands, my rifle, my highly-trained beasts? I could have saved lives. Someone might have their father, still alive, their wife, their child, today, because of me. If I had shown more courage. Yes, I wanted to rest and recover after the fighting in Zandalar, it was partly because of that too. But somehow, after the War of the Thorns, and my whole family just scarcely escaping the devastation, I had got into this mindset, this habit of avoidance. Of finding out through my connections as a hunter and a soldier that some terrible conflict is on and so avoiding that place. Staying out of this fight or that. It saved the Jadescythes then, it’ll save me again now, if I stay safe and far away from it.

However, that is not why I conscripted. I was being less of a Kaldorei, for ignoring the sacrifice Tyrande herself made, since I hear she threw herself into the conflict up at Icecrown. Some say it was foolish, even stupid of her. But I could never think that. I can’t pretend to know how it feels for our High Priestess but… I think I can see, at least the edge of that. You spend all your time wondering what if—however, we all have the answer inside of us. And wasn’t there a time when Human kings would never dream of sending their soldiers into battle alone? When they risked their lives for the victory, for the justice, right alongside them? The Human Alliance was founded on that, people banding together, at least I think it was. And the Kaldorei have a long tradition of our holiest people, our priestesses, taking dagger, bow, blade, right into the conflict. That is who we are, that is endemic to who we’ve always been. To me, Tyrande went like the lead mare of the herd. She always goes first.

I cannot ignore that call. So as I wrestled with all these thoughts in front of a fire in my comfortable home, seated by a spot you once shared with me, wondering when I’d hear back from you, wondering when I’d get to hold you, and you know me—spoil you again. With flowers and wine and breakfast. Bacon! Honey! And you’re my favorite honey, you know that… I realized that another woman in my life most likely, most definitely, had charged ahead to set the right example. I wanted to go, I’d decided upon it. But I lacked the courage. However, someone that I deeply cared for—even if I guessed wrong and she hadn’t—but it seemed to me that the woman I loved, Jiroki Glaivefall would be the one to answer Tyrande’s call as well.

I decided I couldn’t go on as I was, I couldn’t feel like a man, like a true child of Elune if I did not finally go and risk my neck for her sake. And to seek justice for our people. Even if I perish out there… beyond the veil. Know that I will make sure my hands save someone’s life, their child, the one that they love. There is a chance, as well, that I will find you on the other side and hold you again, in front of some… otherworldly fire. I don’t know… made of… clouds or something.

Is that a thing?

Well, my beautiful Jiroki. I wish you all the love and luck in this life and even beyond it. I am going to save our world, this time, not knowing if I will ever return to it, if I even can. But thank you for, just by living your own life, giving someone like me, who I hope is still worthy of your deepest affection, the courage to finally go and do the right thing.

Also, know that if I can find you over there? I will.

Sure as a shot. Sure as that shot back in Stranglethorn that went straight through my heart. You know the one. Yours.

Love,