Whatever character your playing in wow rn and uhhhh hot chocolate
i got this forever ago but i hope you know i treasure it…. also i broke the rules because three sentences is so few sentences even for the slowest writer ever
It was a cold day in Dalaran— granted, it was always cold in Dalaran, the magical floating city that was currently hovering in place above the continent of Northrend, serving as a landmark in the campaign against the Lich King.Elivan didn’t particularly like Dalaran, but it had little to do with the city itself—being one of the few places considered safe in Northrend, it saw a lot of foot traffic, and the crowds made him nervous. It was easy to get jostled in a crowd, easy to be accidentally touched in a crowd, grabbed in a crowd, trampled or ripped to shreds in a crowd—
He shuddered in his seat and tried to shake away the anxiety. He was currently pressed into a poorly lit corner of the Legerdemain Lounge, hoping to find a bit of peace and quiet for himself away from everyone else without isolating himself entirely.Â
“…Sir?”
Elivan nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice— a waiter for the Lounge, if his appearance was any indication. He was standing there, with something in his hand.
“I know you said you didn’t want anything, but… Well, someone purchased this on your behalf.”
“O-oh, there must be.. some sort of mistake, I don’t—?” Elivan responded as quickly as he could manage, more than a little confused, his voice hardly more than a whisper, his brow furrowing.
“They bought this for you, sir,” the waiter repeated, and set the mug down on the table. “… Though they requested to remain anonymous.”
From a quick, curious glance, it seemed to be… hot chocolate? It was nothing short of enticing, steam rising invitingly from the cup. Elivan looked from the mug to the Lounge, scanning for a possible culprit. He didn’t believe he knew anyone well enough for this sort of gesture—in fact, he hardly knew anyone at all— and a cursory glance revealed no other possible explanation but a lone cloak fluttering in the breeze as its owner stepped out into the streets of the city. The Lounge itself contained several patrons, but he suspected none had dared to spare the strangely-garbed priest a glance, much less go so far as to order something for him.Â
It would have to remain a mystery, then.
“I… I see. Well, thank you for bringing this to me, I— I’m very grateful.”With that, the waiter gave a slight bow and departed, perhaps only a little unnerved by his demeanor. Speaking was not Elivan’s strong suit— his voice was quiet, his words slow, his sentences filled with pauses and hitches. Still, he was as meticulous as he could be, and he liked to think he imparted meaning well enough.
The shadow priest reached carefully for his newfound drink, then, and tugged lightly at the mask he used to obscure the lower half of his face, hoping to avoid revealing the scars that lay there. He brought the mug gingerly to his lips, sipped it, and felt the slightest of smiles creep onto his face. Whoever had given him this gift, he hoped they knew just how much he appreciated something so small. Â
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