He was dying. Kam’tun lay in the bed, sunken into the mattress with a cool and wet rag over his forehead and the blankets peeled off his body. His face was mottled with aging spots, his tusks grown even larger since she had first met him. Flesh that had once been smooth was now crinkled, laugh lines around his eyes and mouth proving most of his life had been happy. His hair was still the long, sleek river it had always been. Except now, it mostly gray and not the brillaint raven black she remembered. His once strong body lay on his death bed, frail and weak despite old muscles that fought to cling to him. His brown skin had faded to a much lighter tan. He’d be lucky to pass during the night.
Kannandra watched him, worry on her face. She had always known this would happen, ever since she first met him. Her kind lived too long. His didn’t live long enough, without some extra help. His gaze was focused on the ceiling, trying to spare her the pain of watching him slip away. “Do you want me to tell you a story, my heart?” She whispered softly. The dulled green eyes flittered from the slats on the ceiling to her face. He managed to give her a smile.
“You are still so beautiful, even now.” He wheezed. “I would..” He nodded, trying to press out the word. “I would like that, my sunflower.” Kannandra squeezed his hand, scooting her chair closer to stroke his forehead.
“Ssh, don’t speak my orithore.” The tears began to sting the corner of her eyes, and Kam’tun just smiled at her. Kannandra choked them back. She refused to break down now, she needed to be strong for him. Just one more day. “Have you heard the story of two young lovers? An Orc and Blood Elf?” Kam’tun shook his head, as weak and as frail as he was. She was expending all his energy on such trivial questions. She gave him a kind smile, stroking his face. “You are in for a real treat then.” She moved from the chair to sit on the bed with him, although most of her hung off as not to crowd him. “There was a young Elven woman, spending the day in the grand city of the Orcs. Orgrimmar, it was called. The melting pot of many cultures. It was a hot day, the sun beating down on the city like it always did. How anyone survived in that city was beyond her, but still. She tended to enjoy it so much. She was so wrapped up in her business, oblivious to the world around her. Until, she bumped into a curious Orc with skin the color of a rich russet-brown. A sight she had never seen before.” She paused, to stroke his head. “This poor Orc man was lost and half-naked. He was carrying around a tiny flower pot, out to find soil because of the harsh climate of Durotar was too harsh for his crops. His favorite, he even tried to offer it to her.” She chuckled, her fingers still snaking through his hair. “The poor Elven woman took it upon herself to show this poor wayward stranger the city and beyond.” “Poor?” He gruffed, letting his eyes shut and a frown appearing on his face. “How do you know he was poor?” His voice was growing more and more weak, like a dry husk slithering out of his throat. “Well, as it turns out, Kam’tun, he wasn’t. Look at you, still sharp as a whetstone as ever.” She gently booped his nose with her dark finger. The years of working with the Fel had tainted her once pale skin. He smiled, weakly but warm. “I knew it.” “Of course. You were always the smart one of us.” She teased. “Now let me continue please.” He nodded in her lap. “Thank you. Right.. The Elf took our wandering hero through Orgrimmar, showing him different sights of the city, and even taking him to get his precious dirt. But, you see, somewhere in their travels, the Draenor Orc had lost his flower. They looked and looked, but alas. There was nothing. It was gone, hopefully to someone who’s day it would brighten more than his.
“The lady, trying to brighten his day, decided to show the Orc her city. Something to tantalize his thoughts and give him a bigger introduction to the world around them. Eversong Woods differed in every way. Some might even say, it was superior to the desert region of Durotar. But only some.
“The air was cooler here, the whole area trapped in an eternal autumn due to magic influence. The trees were bathed in red, the grass just starting to lose the green color but somehow still remaining to look strong as if it had just sprouted yesterday. Even their capital danced in shades of reds and yellows, bathed in a golden light. Spires that danced in the sky, banners swirling about.”
“You describe things too much, you know.” Kam’tun spoke even quieter now, and Kannandra felt a pang in her heart. He was growing weaker by the minute. “Someone has to set up the scene you know.” She chuckled, intertwining his fingers through lose strands of his hair. “The Orc was capitvated by the magic of the city. He had never seen such sights, with giant Arcane contraptions patrolling the city, the marketplace packed full of people. She enjoyed seeing the world for the first through his eyes. “As the night wore on, our duo found themselves in the tavern. They had agreed on a drinking contest, the winning prize never decided unfortunately. Their poison of the night was Moonshine. Something the Orc was used to, but the Elf was not. They spat insults of contest back and forth, the Orc pounding back three drinks to her one, until a stranger interrupted their fun. After some insults to the lady’s honor, the Orc, ever the gentlemen, stood up for her by punching the Light’s out of the Elf. Fearful of their safety, the Elf convinced the Orc to retire to his room a little early.
“As for what the Orc had in mind, it was uncertain. The Elf had other plans, trying to advance on to him, and spoil their first night together. She stripped off her clothes and the Orc convinced her she would not be happy if she set on doing this. Eventually, his words won and they retired to a single bed where they layed until dawn, exchanging stories for the rest of the night until they slept. “That was like most of their relationship. Every night, they would settle into bed and listen to each other breathing and spinning tales of all kinds. The Elf, who was much more experienced on Azeroth, recounted the history of the land. The Orc, who had lived in an uncorrupted Draenor, taught her about his people and their way of life.” She glanced down. “Just like we are now.” He was gone. She had been talking to his corpse for sometime, unaware of when he took his last breath. His lips were curled into a toothy smile, his green eyes shut. His body was still on the bed, his fingers still gripped in hers. It hadn’t been long, as he was still warm. Kannandra tried to choke back the sob that was building in her body. “But the Elf never grew tired of his stories. Even though he wouldn’t admit it, he was a warrior after all. He was her orithore, a survivor.” She bent over, placing one last kiss on his forehead, tears rolling from her eyes to drip onto him. “And she was his sunflower, always and forever.”
Mentions @lyrelark‘s Kam’tun. Jack mentioned OOCly if he died she crawled into bed and told him one last story and I ran with the idea. The idea of imagining how ships die is my fave thing to do. SORRY JACK.
