#argonas

“LEAVE HER BE!” Argonas shouted in a fury!

The mawsworn mage turned her hollow gaze to the Vindicator, and let out a ghastly scoff. The siphoning continued, unhindered.

“Kill this one.” she spoke, though not to Argonas. “He must not interfere with this harvest.”

The Draenei moved in-- but was halted as a maw portal opened between him and his target. The rift was large… very large. Argonas stepped back, surveying it quickly for a way to get around it. But before he managed to find one, a massive fiery behemoth stepped out. It bellowed as it materialized fully in place of the portal, standing between the Vindicator and the mage who summoned it. It was a mass of metal plate and embers, filling the grove with a thick black smoke. Fiery eyes set on Argonas, as the monstrosity took a thunderous step forward!

But Argonas was undeterred! He’d fought hard to save Sinafay’s soul from the Maw. Waited patiently as her body gestated in the pod. Even brought in offerings of anima to expedite the process-- often through liberating it from the Mawsworn or their allies! He wouldn’t be stopped now, not so close to finally and fully restoring his beloved wife! He snarled, before roaring back at the brute, and charging in!

Argonas fights to protect that which is most precious to him when the Mawsworn invade Ardenweald. Driving out the Jailer’s forces is, of course, important-- but nothing is more important to Argonas than saving Sinafay! 

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Sylaess wasn’t sure of the plan she had laid, but it was there. Breathing out slowly through slightly parted lips, she gathered herself. Right, now stop being so knee-shakingly terrified. Its Argonas. He won’t force the Light on you. Breathe, you idiot. The self-doubt was so real, though. Tangible. A solid weight in her chest. But it was time. She felt it like a storm on the horizon. A twist in her gut; this was the best chance she had at protecting him.

She shook her head, pinning the braid up on top of her head before she rapped on his door with one knuckle. Dressed down in half-plate and high soft boots, she looked almost urbane if not for the massive scar on her head and twin swords jutting over her shoulders. Anxiety settled in. The energy bubbled through her.

“Argonas.” Called quietly through the door. “You should pack your things up.”

---

There was silence for a moment on the other side of the door. Then… a clattering. Something big moving, without much coordination. A thump, the skidding of a dresser, and a deep grumbling sigh… then the door was unlatched and pulled open before the kaldorei’s eyes. Beyond the door frame, Argonas stood - hardly decent. Shirtless and pantsless, outright. And as form fitting as his undergarments were, he might as well have been devoid of those as well. He squinted, bleary-eyed out of his room at the Death Knight.

“--Sylaess? What is the meaning of this?” he asked, a gruff edge in his tone. “It is the middle of the night! You may not sleep, but I do!”

-------

The thin lips formed a small line on her face. Although mildly surprised, nudity didn’t shake her from the air of concern. The sounds of him fumbling through the room made her acutely aware of the mistaken time suddenly. “Is it? Damn.” She breathed out a slow, soft breath, recalculating. Eyes distant a moment. No; she didn’t have a good enough excuse to pull him up out of sleep like this. How foolish! Frustration at the mistake gnawed its way at her patience. It took her a moment to come up with a reply. Too occupied. “First thing in the morning, then.”

Quietly spoken, a little rough at the edges. Oh, she felt her courage slipping. An inward grimace, though her face remained neutral. She tugged her cloak about herself tightly. Thinking hard. Turned away. Rushing because she’d gotten to herself. Again. What foolishness! But she was right to be worried. There was always a right to be worried when dealing with...

She settled herself. She wouldn’t go far. Keep a watch on the place. The shadowlands had messed with her time-sense but that wasn’t unusual. Just annoying. If it happened again? Well. She’d deal with it then. He’s a Vindicator, Syl, not some helpless puppy. Steady yourself. Or did you want to buy into fear and stupidity? Exasperation. 

Sylaess settled not too far away. Patience was a guise but she held to it. Outside, the air was cool. A comfort. But she was so deep in her thoughts, she may as well have been a statue. Dew settled on her, freezing in tiny droplets against her dull cloak. 

She went over the plan meticulously.  Over and over, thinking through scenarios. Variables. It was complicated. So many chances for variation left her wholly unsure of success. In the late hour, few people were out on the street. They all gave her a wide berth.

---

Being so half asleep left Argonas sluggish, and slow to respond as Sylaess darted away, as quickly as she’d arrived. For a moment, he stood in the doorway of his small (for him) rented apartment, wondering if she was even really there! Was this some weird dream? Fingertips rubbed the sleep from his eyes, before he glanced around the darkened streets of Boralus once more for any sign she had really come to visit. 

The trailing aura was enough.

He didn’t like ‘offensive’ as a term to describe it, though undeath did have a ‘tinge’ that registered strongly on his divine senses. Obtusely, even in fleeting interactions such as theirs. It wasn’t anything he could stomach, of course. Merely heightened awareness of Sylaess over ordinary and mundane people. Regardless, he felt it now. Remnants, at least, confirming he wasn’t dreaming about her. Again. 

The Vindicator pulled on a shirt and trousers, before setting out into the crisp night air. His lungs filled, diaphragm ready to shout and call out to Sylaess. He thought better of it, exhaling it as a grumbling sigh. Best not wake others who managed to keep asleep at this late hour. Instead, he did his searching the old fashioned way, wandering about, following the aura Sylaess exuded. She couldn’t be too far… right?

-------

It wasn't difficult to find her. She chose a place in the immediate sightlines of the door, or close to it. She didn’t hide--didn’t need to. A faint frown put a line between her brows as she watched him. “Argonas, really. I made a mistake about the time. This can wait. Go back to rest.” Calling quietly, summoning up her best normalcy. Common trick, that. Too common. But it smoothed over her like a well-worn mask. Felt the calmness stick over that unruly sense of dread. Caution. Arms folded, she looked very relaxed at least. A good slant to her shoulders, one leg kicked up on the wall behind her. 

She couldn’t hold her eyes to him, though. Had to glance aside as if her eyes had slid off of him. The frown remained. It was hard to sift through everything all the time. Shards of memory were just plain distracting at this point. The doubt niggled at the back of her mind. Such foolishness, and now one very poignantly grumpy Vindicator. You have no proof, Syl, nothing. Just a bad feeling. You think you know something, and your hope is an illusion. Trust is your weakness. Her lips pinched thinner a moment as she shoved the thoughts aside. 

---

Obvious as she was, standing plain in the open, seeing Sylaess’ face once more caught Argonas off guard. The eyes… he remembered them luminous, even if it was lichfire that ignited behind them. Elune’s gift had darkened them entirely, now. He still wasn’t used to it. Hopefully, she didn’t catch the slight jump as her image registered in his sleep-deprived mind. It didn’t last long, anyway, and rolled into his indignant grumbling.

“It is too late now.” he huffed, tone scolding. “I am awake, roused from my bed. You might as well tell me what this is all about.”

It likely came off more demanding and grumpy than he intended. He valued his sleep, of course… but valued their friendship more. Mistake about the time or not, she felt compelled to come tell him something here and now. To warn him of something.

“Why must I pack? Where am I going?” he asked - this time consciously dictating his tone be more amicable. 

-------

It didn’t really surprise her, nor did it honestly hurt. She’d looked in a mirror; she’d seen what was there. Frankly, it wasn’t really that great and given the hour and setting? Probably running high on the spooky level. All the more, she felt remorse for pulling him out of rest because she got spooked. It took a bit of a comedic role in her mind.

“I want you to go back to the Exodar.” Carefully, evenly said. There was more, but it died in her throat. It was far from unfriendly, but at this hour? These circumstances? Who would bet on what direction it was going to be taken in. “Not exactly something I was prepared to wake you for. The town isn’t on fire, after all.” A rueful tone played along the quiet words. She let her dark eyes slide away from his face again.

“...and I’m going to bet you won’t go back to the Exodar unless I volunteered to go through the portal first.”

It wasn’t exactly dread, but it was pretty unsettled in her tone.

---

“Hmph.” he harumphed. “Pray tell, why do you wish for me to return there?”

The Draenei crossed his arms across his broad chest - expectantly, and also because it was a little bit chilly - as he stared his Kaldorei friend down. His tail swayed quietly behind him, in even back-and-forth motions. Again, a grumpy gristle lined his words, inadvertently. Argonas considered himself a patient Vindicator. But antics such as this tested the extent of that patience. He had no time for games.

-------

She didn’t wither from his gaze but it came close. A soft breath of an exhale through her nose. She closed those black eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Because I’m far more spooked than I should be. I’m quite sure things are going down faster than I thought, and I’m watched. You’re in danger, and that’s my fault.” A pause. An ear flicked just barely. She rewrapped her arms about herself tightly. “I feel you have a better stand in the Exodar than you do here.” She loathed how the desperate tinge came in, even though her tone was even and careful. Perfectly laid out. But the words, the choice of words... Ah, damn. Syl lifted her chin a scant inch, settling on it. “As I said, Vindicator. It could’ve waited until morning, aside from my severe lapse in time-telling.”

---

Argonas considered Sylaess a moment; her words, her demeanor, her body language… He couldn’t deny feeling flattery in her concern for him, of all people in this city. And yet it upset him all the more. Offended him, to a degree. He wasn’t so helpless. A growl caught his next exhale, and rode it out beneath a sigh. His shoulders sagged slightly, as he shook his head.

“So too, then, do you.” he replied. “If you feel I am not safe here, you cannot be any better off.”

He expected she knew what he was getting at. Light, she notioned to it a sentence or two prior in the exchange. He had no intentions of leaving. Not without her.

“I will pack my things when you pack yours.” came his firm, succinct nod.

-------

She twisted a little where she stood, arms tightening just a fraction for a moment. And settled. “I’ve sent my things to Stormwind, where they will remain in storage. I’ve the luxury of not needing... much.” Oh, so calm of voice. Now buy into it, you dolt of a woman. 

“I made my offer. I’m not sure how I’ll react to walking into the Exodar, so bear with me. But I stand by what I said.” His eyes. Surely, his eyes can’t see so far. It was a flacid plea, weak and pathetic. She knew it, and let it fade. It was relieving that Argonas seemed to buy a little of the urgency. Even if it was out of some strange form piety. Pity? Too righteous for the steps she was taking--it would cripple him. 

Absently, she rubbed her arms as if warding off a chill. “There is no sharp distinction between the real and unreal...” A murmur left her lips, hardly audible. She was almost unaware of it. Blinked when she realised what she’d said.

---

He hated this. Hated seeing his friend twist and writhe at nothingness. Her fears were justified, of course. But Argonas found it all… needless. He knew the path. He knew what would set Sylaess right. He’d offered it to her, freely. But it wasn’t something to be forced. Least of all, on one like her. It wasn’t often that freedom of choice, autonomy, frustrated the Vindicator so much. But this did. And he could hold his tongue no longer.

“How long do you intend to endure this, my friend?” he asked, with a weary sigh. “How long will you skirt the edge of your sanity? Surely losing yourself to darkness scares you more than losing yourself to the Light, yes? When you have someone here who would see your best path taken - even walk that path with you!”

A huff, as his brow furrowed. Frustration with the situation mutated into frustration with himself. But it pained him so, to be standing beside Sylaess, ready to help… and have her opt to suffer alone. He shook his head, simply.

“You are no fool. You recognize what is happening. Addled as your mind is, you know the difference between Light and Shadow. The Light is not anything such dark power could replicate.” he came off in a lecturing tone, per usual. “You know this, Sylaess. And yet you are still lost in your own mind?”

-------

It was like stepping on a dry twig in the woods. The snap was clear in her head. “--Don’t you think I’ve looked at that angle? Don’t you believe I would if it was feasible? The risks a--” She caught herself in the middle of the sharp words, mouth open. Snapped it shut hastily. The frost-laden cloak got tugged about her shoulders again, sending a myriad of little frozen droplets to the ground around her feet. “This is my fault, and I will walk this line as long as I must. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to see this.” 

Syl couldn’t look him in the eye. She stared at his feet. “But we need to move.” Shame for the outburst washed over her, souring the fear at least. I don’t want you to see this. A soft sigh, and she went to tug at the braid, but it wasn’t there. It was pinned up on her head. Fidgeting again. Damn. 

---

“--No, I should not have to see this.” Argonas repeated, brow furrowing. “But I have chosen to. I choose to stand with you in all this, Sylaess. And now you must choose.”

A large, calloused hand gripped Sylaess’ shoulder, as the Draenei shook her - for emphasis? So she’d look him in the eye? Both? He stared her down, whether she saw it or not.

“There are risks on both sides. I know it to be so. For one as you, the Light can be as inhospitable as the shadows.” he nodded once in understanding. “But there is a distinct advantage to turning to the Light - me. I stand with you! I will not see undue harm come to you.”

His other hand came up, both his arms now pulling her in for a tight embrace. Brusque, but he seemed unapologetic about it. The gesture spoke loud enough on its own.

“Your choice is simple, Sylaess. Light or shadow?”

-------

She was rigid when he shook her shoulder. Those black eyes both utterly sharp and present and yet, they stared through him at the same time. Oddly hollow pits in her bone-white features. “It isn’t so simple Ar--”

Damn near bit her own tongue when he drew her into the hug. Not what she expected. It blew her line of thought right out of the water. For a fleeting moment, she was stuck between a laugh and tears, but neither manifested thankfully. Caught awkwardly in his arms like a squashed moth. But it was... nice. Comforting, almost fatherly in a way. Tempting.

The elf gave it a few moments before trying to step back. The void-touch must feel awful for him; the presence of Light seemed to skitter along her skin. She had to admit the surprise she felt was genuine. Staring at the Vindicator. That he could send such an immediate sense of heart-warming yet unjustified care at her kind of felt like the nicest slap in the face yet. Not that she could take him up on such a thing. How he could care so much for her was beyond her at this point. Holding to a fragment of the past? Perhaps. But her gut told her that he was just too good. He wasn’t stupid. Just willing to risk a lot.

“Argonas, I trust you.” The words were just a breath. They both knew she wouldn’t be standing in front of him otherwise. “But you don’t--I--” She struggled with the words and stiffened up again. It all almost came burbling up and out like some strange poison. Steeled herself. 

“I am between Light and Shadow. Always. These ...problems. The manifestation. Been here since I took my first unholy steps. Acherus is a joke. We weren’t meant to last more than a few years, we were temporary soldiers. Most of us are susceptible to things like this. Luck.” Her face twisted, a grimace. “If you believe in luck.” 

An uneasy breath left her. It wasn’t the pain that so held her in terror, it was the hint of knowledge of  what lay beyond. Beyond death.

“Let’s... take it one step at a time. Exodar.”

---

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Not entirely. To walk the line between Light and Shadow… and willingly, too? She said it as if she had no choice, but Argonas knew better. --At least… he thought he did… perhaps she was right. Were the undead really meant to last this long? To exist as they were? They were unnatural, either way, but he never stopped to consider what that all meant. And even considering it… he still wasn’t sure. For the first time in a long time, Argonas began to realize it; Sylaess was paradoxical. Something he may never understand.

But he wouldn’t stop trying.

“... One step at a time.” he repeated with a nod as he finally released her. “I will gather my belongings, and be ready by sunrise.”

-------

She nodded, the bleakness of it sticking to her like a cobweb. Saw the doubt in his face. Was she right to do this? To force him to see this side of undeath? It wasn’t anything groundbreaking or new, but that was her perspective. Her reality. Not his. It left her feeling queasy, soiled. Like she needed to wipe her hands on her shirt. Knowing she had considered sacrificing Argonas like a lamb, one night. It was all so wrong.

They are coming for you.

Of course she didn’t do either, just nodded dumbly. Shoving the whispers to the back of her mind. His presence rooted her, somehow. “I’ll... Be here. Or near here.” The worry gnawed at her, but that feeling of eyes? Worse. All things considered, she’d had her warnings. Now it was time to tie up the loose ends. Surely, she wanted in her heart to return to the good graces, the Light or her own people, but the logic of it? No. The logic was sound. Undeath riddled every little detail of her being. As much as she could want to attain some level of redemption, it wasn’t going to happen. Her soul was tied sharply into the black powers that had so rudely ripped her from any semblance of rest.

Knew it as surely as the blades on her back. 

He wasn’t going to stand in danger because of her presence if she could help it. No; it would be best to keep him far. Safe. A strange sort of beacon in her graceless dark voyage. Syl had done enough damage to warrant the guilt she bore. There was no innocence in her, despite how Argonas wished to treat her. This was done by choice, mostly.

All that you know will fade. There was truth in it, but perhaps it was preying on her amnesia. It scared her less and less, the fact that she already couldn’t remember anything significant. Maybe it was a mercy she couldn’t name any of the souls she saw in the shadowlands. The prize, though, she could hold to for a little.

That laugh.

A shiver ran up her spine, twisting her shoulders with its violence. 

Memory,  dream, or hallucination? What a bitter game. 

It seemed to echo in her mind. It really wasn't so hollow here to allow an echo; in fact it was too loud all around. The clatter of dishes. Wooden toys being scraped across the floor. Crashed together gently. The hum of casual, meaningless conversation.  It sparked too much thought in her already strained mind. She knew it. Fleeting concern melted against the analytical side of thought. 

Puzzles were a crux of hers. 

So went the evening. She chased away the fog of memory with... What even was this? Some kind of brandy? Sylaess stared at the rim of the carved wooden cup, letting the flitting shallow thought pull her from the darkness.

Maybe. It burned all the same. She savoured it. Let her eyes half-close.

“Oh. Is it bad? Crap--let me get that.” His hand reached out for the cup before she knew what he was talking about. Caught her blinking in surprise. But she released her fingers around it, offering no resistance to its removal. “Huh. No, it wasn’t.”

Syl pulled her hand out of his reach, shaking her head slightly. The boy’s brow was knit again, big brown eyes flickering from each of hers in an attempt to read what she knew very well was a neutral face. Oh. Perhaps he was owed a small explanation? He fumbled with the cup a moment, pouring more brandy into it. Making his hands busy. Embarrassed? Perhaps.

“I was... lost in thought. My apologies.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

He looked chastised. Shit. She tugged her lips up in an attempt at a bemused smile. It worked enough to lessen his hurt. Loosen the tension in his shoulders just enough that he didn’t look afraid of being hit. Not that she had ever threatened such a thing, but she could understand that undeath carried a certain... reputation. 

He shrugged helplessly, grinning back at her. That smile just a bit too bright as he put the cup down before her, and poured a sliver of drink for himself. 

Dax. Sandy brown hair, bright hazel eyes glinting in the lamplight and a sharp nose. Well. It’d been broken before, judging by the lump on the bridge. Maybe it was never straight to begin with. But she suspected it had been.

Guilt. It attacked so carefully, like a shadow sweeping through. Sylaess cast her eyes away, down. 

Noted the way his mother, thought she was minding the young girl that was toddling about with wooden toys had an eye on her. Wary as a cat, but with a friendly smile that didn’t touch her eyes. His father whittled at a block of wood. Concentrated, but in a relaxed manner. One that suggested he, too, was not all that relaxed. But it was still better than the first time they had caught up. 

A deep sigh filtered through her nose.

Damn. Damn it. Why had she come back? This was a horrible mistake. The headache settled in on her like a crown. The slow, heavy thump of her own heartbeat reverberating distractingly. They were becoming too common. Nearly daily. Sometimes enough that she needed to take a step back, take a moment to collect herself.

That wouldn’t do on the battlefield. No. She shouldn’t think of dinner as a battlefield, either.

This was a dangerous distraction.

“Hey... If you don’t want to stay, I’m not holding you here. I know it's uncomfortable.”

She blinked again, putting away the baggage. 

“Its not..” A deep sigh. “Hm.” She shook her head, stuffing a hand into the loose hairs at the top of her head. Tugging absently. “I didn’t intend to be so maudlin. Forgive me.” Softly spoken.

Two apologies in one night.

Daxius gave her a warm chuckle. “I guess so. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey, how’s Stormwind? Everyone settling in alright?”

His mother was cutting her concerned looks from the counter. Shooting them when she thought no one would catch her. Brow knit, lips thinned, eyes tight with worry. Smart woman, honestly. Sylaess could empathize. 

“I suppose. Lots of refugees still.”

It was the third time she’d tentatively taken the invitation to dinner with his family. Just as awkward as the first time. She’d stay just long enough not to be overtly rude. Just enough that he’d lose his worries and stop looking for her. 

“Pay the price.”

It froze her like a knife to the throat. The slithering whisper.

Sylaess grunted softly, finishing the drink. Rising from her seat nearly silently. A ripple of concern and then the acceptance of departure peripherally on the parents’ faces released a lot of that hidden tension around her. 

No, she needed to leave. She’d been here too long. Too many times. 

“You going already?” Daxius, mild disappointment dampening his bright eyes. He hoped to glean something from her. Experience? Fighting tips? Something. It was silly, naive, and utterly innocent. Did he actually look up to her? Oh, what a mistake that was. Far past time she should have left. Like a sword hanging above her head, the threat was real, and imagined all in one. Tricky.

A quick half-bow, and she slunk out the door like a shadow. No need for words. They’d only take more time. Felt the silent sighs of relief from his parents. The fleeting curiosity from his little sister. The honest and mildly smothered hope from Dax. She knew she hadn’t succeeded in pushing him off. Not like this. There was a certain art to it, but she’d missed the mark heavily tonight. Shut the door on it carefully. Felt like closing a book. Wished bitterly it was that easy.

Brandy still flavoured her mouth as she stepped smartly away. Not rushing, but not dawdling. Away. Putting distance between the tiny little hamlet and herself. The warmth of the windows fading.

The sense of danger doesn’t fade.

Sylaess grimaces in the starlight to no one but herself. Breathes out a soft sigh, collecting herself. Pulling that warrior calm on again and again. A worn out garment if ever there was one.

No. There isn’t an escape from this.

“I call upon its radiance to expunge the evils that have gripped this elf!”

The struggle is worse than the fight in the surf. No blades needed. Hands slipping, losing grip faster than they can catch anything. Hair. Clothes. Armor. Flesh. The leather of her gauntlets creaks under the pressure, but the salt water seems to laugh in a burble, causing enough pressure to peel her fingers off like a handful of sand. It’s impossible to catch, but that doesn’t dull her efforts to hold it. The very same reason she didn’t make it as a mage.

The Knight doesn’t budge. Much. Some subconscious part of her witnesses her hands shaking with the effort of just standing in the cascade of Light. Her heart thumps wildly, the threads of power are--

Can she see them? Is this just her imagination to make sense of the calamity? It seems so surreal. Disconnected, somehow.

It isn’t her body anymore.

Is it?

She can hear Argonas continuing his chant. The words sonorously pouring from him  just as burning as the conviction he holds in his heart. He fully believes. No--he knows the Light can save her. It's not a question. His devotion. His determination.

Sylaess wanted to scream. It wasn’t true! It couldn’t be true. The darkness at the edge of her eyes, seeping through the fiber of her being... The very ties to her unlife itself. All of it in shadow. All of it some form of...

Dark threads folded around her, unbothered by the absolute storm of Light. Reflexively, she clenched her hands as if holding them.

No; pieces fell away. Her face burned. Eyes felt blinded. But she could hear the calmness of that whispering voice in her shadows. The conviction of the Vindicator. The love he held.

Her damnation.

No; Argonas would be the best prize she could offer. More than enough in payment for the trivial gifts she asked for. She could see how it could end up. What path to take. What words to say. She wanted to laugh. Scream. Cry. 

Surrender.

It would be so easy to fall back into the darkness. Let the shadow defend this... corpse. Let loose the weapon. Let go.

“Enough--!”

The sound of her own voice jerked her back to the present roughly. Heart thumping a wild rhythm in her chest, she hissed out a slow breath between clenched teeth and hurried on. It irked her on some level how choked she had sounded. How small.

The cobbles were always damp near the ocean. The smell of rotting seaweed and damp wood all bombarded her. Sounds of the city. Usually so unobtrusive. Not so much right now.

She had made it to the bridge into Kul Tiras. Guards eyed her with a mix of curiosity and alarm.

Couldn’t blame them.

The Acherian stepped it out, long legs eating up the distance. To where, though? Where could she run to? 

She shook her head violently. It didn’t work to remove the feeling of the hooks in her skin. Paused on the bridge, looking out at the reflecting lamp lights on the waters. Rubbed her arms harshly. Maybe not warding off a chill, but the sensation brought some form of reality back to her. Comfort, if fleeting.

To say she missed Argonas deeply was a sad understatement. 

It hurt. Vividly. But it had been necessary. Had his child been born? Was he still recovering from her betrayal? A quietly reverent hope pled that he had forgotten her, but she knew it likely wasn’t so.

The Draenei scoffed!

[[ Co-written with @kidcatgemini​ & @sylaess​ ]]

Avehi led the trio to a small cave. The term was a generous one; it was a hole in the cliff facing, hardly noticeable from the outside. Avehi only found it thanks to a subtle rune placed over the entrance. Not by her hand, but that of a friend. She peered inside, and once it was determined to be safe, only then did the Draenei lower her guard.

Argonas brought up the rear; his hulking mortal form only barely able to slip inside the cave-- and not without a bit of scraping. Still, he managed inside without drawing too much attention to himself or the cave overall. He loitered by the entrance, not keen on delving too deep in the cloistered space. Keeping watch was as good an excuse as any. He exhaled slow, even breaths to suppress his phobia. Few things gave him anxiety like rightly enclosed spaces. But he set that aside, out of necessity. 

For Sinafay.

[[Also asked by @kidcatgemini​ ]]

VISUAL ATTRACTIVENESS: 💔 “... Nedemus? The undead worgen? No, not in the slightest.”

FRIENDSHIP LEVEL: 💗 "I... do not think we are that close. What chance we did have to become friends I... I think I ruined. I cannot say for certain where I stand with him, now.”

SEXUAL DESIRE: 💔 "--Again... no. Not in the slightest. He is very much the antithesis of anything I would find sexually desirable!”

VISUAL ATTRACTIVENESS: 💗💗💗 “Well... speaking in strict confidence... I do find her unkempt appearance rather... vexing. It is alluring and not, all at once. difficult to describe. Her age is noticeable as well. But she is rather fit and able-bodied. A graceful aged look, beneath all the mud and grime.”

FRIENDSHIP LEVEL: 💗💗💗💗 “Our friendship has been damaged, due to my actions. Not irreversibly so, thankfully; she is forgiving, and understanding. I feel we are close friends and confidants.”

SEXUAL DESIRE: 💗💗💗💗 “--Wh-what? She is the High Vindicator’s betrothed! I... I would not even consider such a notion!  ... ... ...however, if such weren’t the case, I would certainly pursue such intimacies. And I have in the past, before knowing of the aforementioned betrothal. She is wildly enticing in an inexplicable manner. I have no regrets about our past encounters-- except the false pretenses, of course! Which, I would state were not my fault!”