#deadeyewanted

           A few days passed since the kidnapping of Diaage and Marcus. Things were tense in Silvermoon, at least at the Headquarters. No leads. No word. Nothing. Director Vidal was at his wits end. He had already notified the Regent Lord about what was happening but for the moment the State of Emergency they had set weeks ago was at a lull. The city -seemed- relatively stable. Sharlen hated to think it but seeing Director Nusas gone was one of the best things that happened to him. With her out of the way, the city... seemed safe. Was it truly her that twisted such events to happen?          “Relax the State of Emergency another level.” The director dolled out orders to a fellow agent to submit to the press. Things were looking up. The buildings were being repaired and no other bombings were going off. The city was stable and that was his main goal for national security.           “Do you really think you’re helping?” Elsif spoke coldly to Sharlen.           “I’m doing my job, Magister. What I was hired to do. It is unfortunate that Director Nusas has gone missing and my agents are doing the best that they can to bring her back but we have no leads. None at all. Now whose fault would that be?” Director Vidal prodded his words into the magistrate.           The magister turned away from Sharlen as he started to summon a portal. “I’m going to go search. If you want to get off your ass and help, call me.”

      The old woman sat vigil by the side of her ward, Marcus. He was still in terrible shape from the fight. What more could she do -but- to sit and twiddle her thumbs? No portal devices to take to, no communicator to contact agents, and certainly no rescue in sight on the little abandoned isle they were stranded upon.     A soft sigh escaped her lips. Perhaps she could swim... swim... like she did all those years ago. Thoughts turned to memories as she recounted them to the sleeping Marcus.      “Hundreds.. of years ago, under the darkening sky of Lordaeron...” The scene set upon the ocean miles out from the Coast of Lordaeron. A small merchant vessel stowed. A young raven haired sin’dorei lass was busy tying a knot into a line as elvish crewmen worked aside her and others. “It wasn’t always that bad, you know. We were happy for a time before the sickness set in. Minn’da got it first. When she died it passed onto Ann’da. Then to Lucius. The rest of the crew.”       Errant memories blanked from her mind as she continued to recount the story, for good reason, “Sickness was terrible. Madness among civil men... What could one do?.... Nothing. No medicine would cure this. I didn’t know what else to do but to set aflame to the ship and escape from the madness that dwelt. You should’ve heard the cries as they burned alive.” Jumping from the bow into the ocean, the memories delved, sinking like a stone. Escaping, she thought, saved her life only to snuffed out by the water filling the lungs. Swimming miles to the coast proved futile.     “But.. then for some reason.. I was saved. I didn’t know by who but.. it was this.. this man. He dragged me out of the water to the shore all those years ago. If it wasn’t because of him we wouldn’t be here in this situation...” Diaage paused as she’d rest a hand to Marcus’ temple to check his temperature. “Sometimes.. I wonder if I did it again... if I swam all the way-- that I would see him again.” A soft laugh escaped her lips as she’d twist her olivine-streaked gaze towards the open window that held the boundless ocean. The thought crossed her mind.... would she leave Marcus to do so?....

     “Mr. Flaxin Malache,

    An irritation of second guessing herself sank into the thoughts of the old woman as she’d walk towards her house in Silvermoon. She’d let her nails dig into her raven tresses, scraping to her scalp. A sigh escaped her lips. “Why does one even bother. Mercutio isn’t around... his business isn’t mine. Even being invited to such a business...” Diaage mumbled to herself as she’d open the door to find Elsif and Nihasa sitting in the common room. 

    “A bad day?” Elsif noticed a permanent frown lining the woman’s face.  “More dead ends. One doesn’t know what to do anymore. Living here or living in the port - it doesn’t seem quite safe just yet.” The ex-director would slump into one a living room chair. “Elsif... Why should one resurface? To what end? Why should one deal with Mercutio or my  brother? Or any of the family. What goals would that accomplish.” 

    “Well, Miss Malievi... It might not be my business, but... family is family. Considering everything... recovering from years past of estranging yourself your business and noble family...” Elsif spoke quietly as he’d glance from her to Nihasa. “Maybe not just for yourself? But for your daughter?”

   “For titan’s sakes... bringing Nihasa around that lot. Infighting, deaders, screaming, blood... just a typical night of Intoxication.... Hope to the seven hells that that Malache boy is alive...” The old woman groaned as she’d push herself up out of the chair. The conversation trailed from there as she’d stare out the window into the city of Silvermoon. To what end...