#crownofstormwind

       “Pray forgive the intrusion.” He was disciplined and formal but the bow he gave was unlikely to match precise protocol. “I’ve a gift from an ex-magister as thanks for admitting the Ren’dorei to the Alliance or....some such overly grandiose and patronizing twaddle to be delivered directly to your majesty.”

( @crownofstormwind )

Another beautiful day within the city of Dalaran. The Hylian Princess had found yet another book of interest, becoming engrossed in the paragraphs topic as she aimed to try and understand the foreign material. “So if I really can access them, it must be something simple I’m missing.”

It was crucial, yet so confusing all at once. “What could it be, though?” Just as her thoughts lingered against the page, her foot caught against the leg of a stool propelling her forward. Her emerald eyes widened as the book collapsed from her lack of balance before her hands located the floor, then the book she had.

       “Do you think it wise to trust the dragon after all that’s happened because of him?”

   Perhaps Greymane didn’t have a right to question Anduin. He was a king in his own right and, more over, High King of the Alliance to which Genn had pledged himself on his people. Though that was also a very good reason why he had to. That and Genn was worried. Anduin was still a young man and, though he believed in Anduin’s potential, even Greymane could and had made mistakes.

        “Your prophet --”

        Her voice was thick with an emotion that Yrel had not expected --- or, more to the point, she had believed the years of grief and triumph to have smoothed over like plaster repairing one’s broken foundations; ensuring that they would never be new and smooth again, but would persist in makeshift wholeness. Yet, in coming face to face with Azeroth and the doppleganger of her position ( for HE had been this Velen’s pupil  --- HE knew the man as well as she, or perhaps even better ) the exarch found the plaster little more than packed gauze, revealing a wound that still ached and pulsed --- light, did it bleed. It was envy and terror all wrapped in one, digging at her subconscious to reveal the self-doubt that plagued her still. Even with Draenor’s safety secured and the fate of her people preserved for even just a short while longer, she still felt as if though she were a student absent of her master.

        But that was the issue all the same. This Velen was not her world’s prophet --- he was not HER Velen. Such was an important distinction to make and the reason she felt that, despite everything that pointed to them being similar beings, she couldn’t help but ask the only person she knew to have been close to him. She never thought to question Maraad, and the importance of the mission at hand had always abated the questions she might have had for the champion and those from Azeroth. But now? Surely now was no better time to combat her inner demons; as nervous as she might have been to do so.