#ourrin

“Uh, um, Ishnu’alah,” he started, “Um, can you… teach me? You know… some stuff…” as he spoke he seemed to lose initiative as she could almost see the second thoughts descend upon him.

Interrupting him smoothly before he talked himself out of it, “Of course I would teach you,” she answered calmly as she walked over to a weapons rack and pulled two swords off of it.

Tossing one at him to see what he’d do, she happily noted that he caught it smoothly by the hilt but didn’t let it register on her face whatsoever. He seemed to go on automatic as he moved into a ready position as she took up her own stance with her sword.

“I see someone has already taught you some ‘stuff’,” and without further ado she launched into an attack.

The boy was good with a blade as she tested him which way and that to see where he was in his own training. Someone had taught him very well, but she noted it was the same style she had seen around here, this was a Sentinel’s training shining through him right now. Yet she thought Night elf males weren’t allowed to be Sentinels? Maybe he picked up some lessons from the trainers around here? No, he seemed to have a good foundation of the fundamentals of swordplay as they traded blows, there was tapped potential here, but now that it was found it needed to be polished. Her eyes narrowed as she ramped up her attacks, seeing how he’d react and adapt, she was scoring more hits on him, but she noted he was learning. The same trick did not work with him thrice at the most, but also he’d occasionally come up with a creative solution to an attack that didn’t always work, yet pleased her in that he could be versatile.

The wind blew again, swirling around the two dueling in the circle as a realization hit Myung square in the face. Was he the one? A Kaldorei? Well, all in all it made sense she supposed knowing her style’s history for things to come full circle like this. He certainly had the proper mindset, he didn’t get angry or upset when she scored a hit, he obviously thirsted to learn from her, but would he break from this life to join her? That was the question…

“MYTHLLEASS!” a screeching voice made even a fighter as hardened as Myung jump out of her skin thanks to her being so caught up in her revelation.

It also made the male jump as well, and jump right into one of her incoming attacks. Myung pulled up, but not enough in time as she socked the boy with the flat of her blade on one side of his face, his nose making a crunch noise that made her wince. He went down with a subdued whimper and watering eyes and he grabbed his now bleeding nose and looked past Myung up the hill to a Night elf female storming towards them. The Pandaren instantly was at the boy’s side helping him up and checking his nose. Thankfully the damage wasn’t that bad, she had just walloped him pretty good as she popped his nose back into place and she was pleased when he didn’t even make a noise as she figured a healer would be able to fix him up as right as rain in no time.

“I am sorry,” Myung winced apologetically, “At least your nose is back in position, but you might have black markings like mine if we don’t get you to a healer fast enough…”

A bit of a chuckle wheezed out of him, but as the irate female finally neared their position as Myung witnessed the seven foot plus tall male visibly shrink in front of her as the woman eyed him harshly.

“Hrmph, that’s what you get for doing something so stupid. Why aren’t you in the kitchen where you belong?” she asked, and while she wasn’t yelling, her tone was just as bad as if she was howling at the male.

“M-Min’da… I…” he tried to talk, but his broken nose muddled his words and she wasn’t having any of it either.

“No excuses,” she snapped and then pointed in the direction towards where the Mess Hall and the kitchens lay.

Looking to Myung the boy mumbled an apology for wasting her time, which was backed up by a nod from the woman as he was marched back to where he ‘should’ have been. So was that his mother? The Pandaren was shocked to say the least, Spirits, how did they raise their children around here? She usually didn’t judge other cultures so, but why was the boy denied? Somebody had obviously trained him in sword-fighting, there had to be something more going on. Myung noted the wind had died, the air around her quiet and still, pregnant with waiting for something… a decision to be made.

Just then one of the senior officers walked up from the other day and flashed an apologetic smile at Myung, “Sorry you had to see that, ah… Milyurae can be a bit rough on the boy, but she means well…”

Myung’s kept her face calm, placid even though her thoughts were screaming with disdainful things. That was being a ‘bit rough’? Granted, it was her own fault that he got his nose broke, she should have been more aware of her surroundings and been more in control. Although the moment was now past, that was then, this is now and this was just something to learn from and move on.

“Would you like to go get something to eat?”

Letting her aggravated emotions drain out of her, she regained her inner balance as she turned and nodded to the Huntress with a reassuring smile and motioned she would follow in a moment. Putting the swords back on the rack near the sparring ring she ran a thumb over the hilt of the boy’s sword and wondered what her next steps should be. She was a stranger in a strange land who had no business sticking her nose in such business, yet her own mission was on the line here. Obviously she must tread carefully here… and somehow get some more information about Mythlleass and his dear mother before making any further decisions...

“Elune, Myth, who beat you up?” the Healer-Priestess Elae Amberspear quipped as she entered the back door to the kitchens to find a miserable kitchen boy and head cook near the crates of stored foodstuffs, Myth sitting on a crate and Jioren fussing over him like a mother hen.

Cookie sighed, “Myth wanted to go spar with the Pandaren and during the bout dear Min’da attacked.”

Her eyebrow raised a hair, “Milyurae hit Myth?” Cookie noted her voice dipping several notches into icy disapproval.

“No,” Myth moaned around strips of cloth stuffed up both his nostrils, “Nee urpised us boff an’ I ‘ot ‘acked with a ‘word in na ‘ose.”

“Milyurae found them sparring and apparently interrupted the match and in the chaos he got his nose broke by the Pandaren’s sword. It was an accident,” Cookie supplied translating for the broken-nosed male.

The explanation did not make the Healer’s face lift in the least as the head cook watched her sigh and then kneel down in front of Myth as her hand glowed with a silvery-white light as she reached up and touched Myth’s face.

“This will pinch,” she said as she grabbed his nose and gave it a gentle pull as the light infused into his face making all the redness and swelling disappear leaving behind a perfectly fixed face, “You might have a couple spots of bruising, but otherwise you’re fixed.”

“Thank you Healer,” Myth said in the most apologetic tone as she just waved him off and got back up.

Cookie locked eyes with Elae with an unspoken request to stay so they could talk, he patted Myth on the leg, “There’s some turnovers that need making, get at em,” he instructed as his pseudo-apprentice nodded and went to work away from his two elders.

“Cookie…”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose he eyed Elae, “We have got to do something about Rae.”

The Priestess sighed, “Cookie… Jioren,” she used his real name to emphasize her point, “You know, despite everything, Rae would never intentionally hurt that boy.”

“Elune Elae, he’s not a boy anymore, he came of age a decade ago! Rae is holding him back! He’s emotionally stunted for his age! He needs to get away from her. You’re one of the Head Healers around here, you have the medical authority and are high up enough in the Sisterhood to help get him from under her thumb.”

“Rae was in my unit back when she was active, she’s a damn fine Sentinel and considering what she’s been through, she’s done an amazing job raising Myth and his brother Lhor.”

“Lhor’s situation is completely different from Myth’s…”

“Jioren, we’ve argued about this before, multiple times in fact. I will not use my authority to take Myth away from Rae. She can’t lose anyone else or she will break.”

The head cook was pissed now, “So we have to sacrifice one’s emotional health for the other’s mental health? How under Elune does that even equate? Rae’s lived her life, Myth’s never gotten a chance to live his. She needs to get her head straight and Myth is just a crutch to keep beating herself up over a bad decision, thus what the both of them needs is space from each other. Myth is not his father and needs to quit being punished for it.”

Elae threw up her hands as she shook her head and walked off, “I’m a busy woman and not repeating myself, find someone else’s ear to perpetually twist over this.”

Watching the Priestess stalk off, Cookie ran his hand through his hair as he throttled his temper. Goddess, why was everyone blind around here? He knew the reasons why, and the fact that they were so ingrained at this point that no one saw the inherent problem anymore. Personally he’d love to make Myth his official apprentice, everyone knew he pretty much was unofficially, but Myth couldn’t really take over his job with his unhinged mother stalking him at every turn. Even moving Myth out of her apartments and into his, which he had offered once to Rae only to get his head nearly chopped off by a good third of the senior staff of the military base, he realized that small of a move wouldn’t change anything really. Many of the Sisters here still saw Rae as one of them, especially those who had served with her and now they were mostly in positions of power, like Elae and they acted only to protect Rae for the most part and not her son who looked too much like his father for his own good. Everyone saw Ourrin Highblade, not Mythlleass Wildsword it seemed except for him. Cookie knew Myth had to get out of here, but it wasn’t like he had joined the Sentinels and they could transfer him to another stronghold.

A breeze erupted through the open doorway, making some papers with delivery receipts on them nearly get sucked out with the retreating wind as he flailed grabbing them before they got too far. Taking out his fleeting aggression on them he slammed them down on a crate and stuck a potato on top to keep them from flying off again and then nearly jumped out of his skin as he noticed the Pandaren standing there. Goddess above, how long had she been there?

“Ishnu-dal-dieb?” she said slowly, trying out his people’s more formal greeting, “I do apologize if I startled you.”

“Ah, it’s okay, I’ve been a bit distracted of late,” he waved her off with a good natured smile, “Can I help you with anything, um, Miss? I’m sorry, I never caught your name.”

Nodding her ursine head she peered up at him, “Call me Myung. I was just coming to check on Mythlleass to see if he was okay. I do regret what happened earlier.”

“That’s kind of you, he’s all better, the healer already stopped by and fixed his nose.”

“Oh thank goodness,” weariness crept into her eyes as she looked relieved.

He flashed an understanding look at her “I’m Jioren Summerwing by the way, I’m sure you’ve heard my other name I go by, ‘Cookie’.”

“Yes, the master cook here,” her head bobbing in a nod with a polite smile, “I also came to speak with you as I was wondering if I could interest you in some authentic Pandaren tea?”

She pulled out what looked like a small gourd with a hinged top and opened it to reveal some dried herbs and leaves whose scent did intrigue Cookie. Raising an eyebrow and nodding appreciatively he looked over the female panda in front of him with a calculating eye. She was an older specimen of her species, there was grey in her black and white fur, especially around her face and streaked through her black hair. Her blue eyes were bright with friendliness and curiosity as she had a motherly air wreathed about her, yet there was an undertone of danger to her due to her fighting skills. This was one ‘mother’ you did not want to start something with because she would finish it, Cookie had no doubts about that.

Quickly looking over his shoulder he could see the kitchen was running smoothly enough that he wasn’t needed quite yet as he looked back to Myung musing himself. He had an inkling the Pandaren had not stopped by just to offer him tea, especially with everything that had happened and who would know the most about what was going on in a military base outside of the senior officers? The cooks, who overheard everything spoken in the Mess Hall, especially the head cook whose job it was to keep a bead on what was needed and wanted for nourishment of all these warriors. Granted it was none of her business, but something buzzed in the back of his mind, an odd compulsion to just tell someone; unburden himself. Plus, Elae had told him to go twist someone else’s ear, so why not?

“I would love a cup of tea Master Myung,” as he waved for her to follow him.

She nodded again, although it looked more like a bow this time when she did it, “Just Myung, we are both Masters in our respective arts, so formalities are not needed with me.”

Smiling he led her to a wooden staircase in the back as they went up into his personal apartments above the kitchens. He wasn’t in them much, so they were rather stark, some knick knacks here and there as his life was in the kitchens below. However his office was upstairs, and that was where he brought her, where a big wooden desk with paperwork piled in a couple of spots sat and on either side two comfortable chairs. There was a small stove in the corner, one that was attached to the stove piped from below so that the escaping heat would not only be used again after cooking something to heat his office as well as make himself a hot cup of tea or warm up some food to have while he worked. Getting out a teapot, he got some water boiling as he put out another more ornamental kettle with a mesh inside and two matching cups. These were family heirlooms, covered in swirling silver vines that framed amazing enamel inlays of scenes from an older Azeroth.

The Pandaren knew instantly what to do as she measured out the right amount of her tea from the gourd into the metal mesh inside the pot as he came over with the hot water, giving it to her and then sitting down as she started what looked like a mini-tea ceremony in making their drinks. He watched her with great interest as she moved with practiced ease in everything she did reminding him of Priestesses during moonrise ceremonies around the Moonwell here. The hot water went into the smaller pot, letting the tea steep as she then put the top on it with a flourish of her paw and then swirled the more ornate pot one, two, three times and set it down for a moment, looking up at him with those knowing eyes. Swiftly she took the two cups and lifted the pot, deftly pouring two cups perfectly, the intoxicating smell wafting easily to his nose as she presented him with a cup.

They both raised their cups to one another in salute, but didn’t let them touch as Cookie spoke, “To new friends.”

“Indeed, both new and old friends,” she bowed her head as they both sipped from their cups.

“Mm,” he was pleasantly surprised at the delicate flavor as he cleared his mouth and then looked at her seriously, “Okay, what would you like to know?”

Pausing for a moment, she had the manners not to look surprised, instead she chuckled, “Oof, I guess I am getting too old for my own good if I am being that obvious. Well, fortune favors the bold, so yes, you’ve read me correctly, I’d like to know more about Mythlleass.”

“Can I ask why first?” Cookie said around the brim of his cup.

Smiling again her eyes twinkled, “I’d think you remiss if you didn’t. As you’ve no doubt noted I am old for my kind. I am looking for an apprentice, actually I’ve been in search of one for a few years now, but no one has… met the requirements of my Way to be the one to take over from me.”

Lifting an eyebrow he caught on, “No one except Myth?”

Tilting her head to one side she nodded, “Yes, I feel he is the one. I see more and more signs when he is around. However…”

“Ah, yeah, then you met Rae…”

“Rae?”

“Erm, that’s Milyurae, his mother. Former Sentinel, everyone who knows her calls her Rae for short.”

“Is it she who taught him to fight with a sword?”

“Actually yes, shocked us all as he wanted to learn for a long time and then started to teach him after his older half-brother Lhor’jhonei left for druid training in Moonglade,” he explained after a sip of tea, “She taught him well, he knows his way around a sword. Bow, not so much.”

The Pandaren frowned slightly, “Then why be adverse to our sparring?”

The male sighed and looked a bit worn suddenly, his long years finally visible upon his near-ageless features, “Well, to explain that I’d have to tell you the full story, so feel free to interject when you have a question,” he paused to wet his whistle again and then leaned forward to launch into a story that needed telling very badly.

“Milyurae… before… was a damn fine Sentinel. When you think of the ideal Sentinel, that was her as she lived, ate and breathed Sentinel life. That’s how most of her Sisters around here remember her, as that Milyurae. Eventually she found love outside of the Sentinels in a nice druid that got stationed here, they eventually married and had a son together, her oldest boy Lhor’jhonei. And… everything was great up until her husband was brutally murdered by satyrs. It was not pretty and she took it very hard. To try and escape from dealing with the loss she threw herself into raising Lhor and being an even better Sentinel and it worked for a time. So much so it convinced everyone she was getting over it just fine.”

He paused, his bushy eyebrows drawing together as he mulled over something and then asked Myung a question, “Uh, have you heard of the name Ourrin Highblade per chance?”

She shook her head no as he nodded and continued, “He’s a bit… infamous among us Kaldorei. The guy’s been, er, had been around since before the Sundering. Always been a roaming warrior, never embraced the druidic ways most of males of our kind did back then. However that’s not why he’s known among us, that’s because he’s something of a wandering lover too. Needless to say he’s been with many, many women and he’s made many, many children due to this.”

“Fertile,” she commented, blinking in disbelief.

“You have no idea,” Cookie shook his head, “The issue is usually when the woman gets pregnant he up and disappears. No one knows why he does that for sure, but that’s why he’s got the negative reputation he has.”

“I take it this man is Mythlleass’s father then?”

Sitting back he nodded, “Yes he is. He blew into town with a caravan, they hired him to help provide protection. I met him then, he had quite the carisma, really likeable person. I can see why women like, er, liked him… Rae met him and instant kismet. They loved to spar with one another, challenge one another. Everyone thought, hey, maybe it would work out as it was good to see Rae actually happy for once. He seemed good for her, they seemed happy together. Honestly looking back I think he was, but the moment she told everyone she was pregnant… he changed. Nothing bad, he was still very himself, very personable, just… his eyes took on this weird haunted look,” he shook his head at the memory, pausing to recall it for a moment as he sighed and looked back at his guest, “Needless to say history repeated as one day, he was just gone.”

He shrugged sighing, “Rae… did not deal well. Between her husband and then Ourrin… she broke down finally. It was a long time coming, she should have been seen to earlier really, so between her break down and the pregnancy being rather hard on her… She was discharged out of the Sentinels for medical reasons. That really broke her. Healers helped her as best they could… I wish I could say it got better when Myth was born, but not so as he looked exactly like Ourrin.

“Thankfully she did have support as this is a large stronghold and everyone pitched in, even Myth’s older brother Lhor, so Myth didn’t have a bad childhood overall. Rae does love him, she’s never raised a hand to him… but I know when she looks at Myth, especially these days, all she sees is Ourrin. She gets weird because I think she fears Myth will turn out just like his father, just up and leave one day, which is why she keeps him under her thumb at all times. One of the few escapes he has is when he’s in the kitchen with me.”

He took another sip of his cooling tea, looked at the cup and set it down on the desk. Looking up at the Pandaren he noticed she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts digesting the whole story. It was a quite a tale to take in as he was at his own whit’s end with the whole ordeal, Elune help him.

Finally she seemed to come back to herself as she regarded him for a moment and then spoke in her soft tone, “You kept correcting yourself, from present tense to past tense about Myth’s father. I take it he is… no longer alive?”

Cookie had to really think about how to reply to that for a moment, well, since they were both being so blunt… “Yes, he’s dead. He died during the Third War, or so I’ve heard. However, I’ve also heard he’s… a twice-born now.”

“A what now?” she was rather confused at this term.

The head cook got a bit uncomfortable speaking about it as if it would summon thing Ourrin now was here before them somehow, “Its what we call Death Knights. He was raised by the Lich King, as many others were. Apparently he showed up in Darnassus after the Human King there pardoned them all and was promptly escorted out. Many of our kind… have difficulties being around such unnatural creatures and I know a few got similar treatment here when they showed up.”

Myung looked sad for a moment, but kept her thoughts to herself on the subject.

Cookie couldn’t help himself and broke the silence that started to stretch between them, “With that all said, what are you going to do now if I may ask? I have asked Rae in the past for her permission for Myth to become my official apprentice and move into these apartments with me and I nearly got my head chopped off by her and all her Sisters in charge around here. I thought if I could just get him away from her, even if a little, she’d stop being so focused on him and they could both finally move on with their lives in a healthier manner. Now I fear the only way for that to happen is just to get Myth out of Feathermoon for a while.”

The Pandaren female just nodded silently as she ran a finger around the rim of her teacup seemingly deep in contemplation.

Out of the corner of his eye Cookie watched Myth’s shoulders slump as he got up and started in on slicing his creative works to ribbons, Myth knew Cookie’s word was law as head cook and didn’t dare protest - not that Cookie thought he would as Myth was a very respectful young man. However Cookie did know Myth was quite the romantic at heart, so he was highly prone to antics for impressing the ladies (of which there were many considering Feathermoon was THE Sentinel stronghold outside of Darnassus), including carving roses out of potatoes. The older male did file it away in his mind to ask Myth later just what he was trying to come up with as the boy was quite talented in cookery, and some of the things he came up with were incorporated into the menus due to his interesting take on food. Currently Cookie was hoping to groom Myth to take over his position when it was time, that was, if he could get Myth out of his mother’s sphere of influence.

A multitude of footsteps and conversations gradually increasing in volume made Cookie look up to see the first wave of lunch rush enter the mess hall as bunch of Worgen females all in their lupine forms came in to help themselves to what was set out. His kitchen helpers who were also Sentinel trainees themselves were already lined up behind the serving tables ready to serve them. He had several trainees assigned to kitchen duty on a rotating basis, their jobs were to serve their Sisters, and keep the mess hall and kitchen neat and clean at all times by working in teams. There were some food preparation jobs kept open as duties that could be assigned to Sentinels, but Cookie had free reign to pick and choose who got those jobs as not everyone could cook and even then not everyone should be allowed in a working kitchen as he ran a very tight ship, and with as many mouths as he had to feed he had to. His ears twitched as the women were much more animated today, something out of the ordinary might be going on today for them all to be more chatty than usual as he decided to focus his hearing a bit harder in their direction while he overlooked his cooks readying tonight’s dinner. The word ‘Pandaren’ kept popping up over and over again, a very foreign word for this area of Azeroth thus making it easier for him to pick out of the many conversations happening at once as he wondered what could possibly bring that topic up on base among the trainees?

He didn’t have to wonder long as suddenly Myth popped up next to him, “Cookie, guess what?” the kitchen ‘boy’ rhetorically asked in his usual overly-excited manner, “They say there’s a female Pandaren who just showed up on base, she’s like some sort of fighting master and she’s offered to do an exhibition of her fighting style to the Huntresses and…”

Cookie let Myth rattle on a bit more as the head cook had no idea how Myth could get information about the happenings on base so fast, but when he heard it Elune knew he’d do his best to spread the wealth, “Myth,” he finally interjected, “Did you finish with the potatoes?”

“Yup!” Myth then casually pointed out the pans of scalloped potatoes already put together ready to be baked on the racks near the ovens.

Having to suppress a chuckle as when Myth was motivated he sure could move like the wind, “So… I’m guessing you want to go see the exhibition then?”

That all too familiar dopey grin spread over his face as his eyes lit up, “Please Cookie! I’ll do extra duties for the next week if you let me!”

Cookie pursed his lips and looked devious, “Mm, dangerous to offer that kiddo, but yes, you may go, and I will probably take you up on it...”

“Okay, no problem!” Myth said as he nearly tripped over himself backpedaling out of the kitchen as he then shouted, “Thank you Cookie!” before disappearing into the evening.

Cookie just stood there, a silent chuckle shaking his chest as then he spotted a cook who needed correcting and he was off, dinner wasn’t going to make itself after all...

Myung stood in the middle of the sparring ring calm and collected, seemingly a serene statue of an elder Pandaren, the light breeze toying with the loose strands of her hair that wouldn’t surrender into her severe bun that gave lie to complete stillness. Her eyes were closed, but it didn’t matter, she knew where her opponents were, two skilled Huntresses of the Sentinel Army armed with beautiful curving swords slowly circled her as she ticked an ear towards the closest one hearing the dirt of the sparring ring crunch harder between the Night elf’s foot and the ground was the only clue she had to know an attack was incoming. As quick as lightning the first Huntress struck, Myung blocking the flat of the blade with her paw, the pads on it so tough one could almost mistake it for the rough bark of an iron-wood tree, as she then spun, blocking the second Huntress with a kick, before she returned the favor by attacking them, her intent to get past their blades and strike their bodies. The Pandaren had no weapons, and while she was well versed in using various ones, she didn’t need them as her whole body was a weapon, everything could be a weapon if one just used their head.

While the Huntresses were instructed by their superiors to only go after her with the flat of their blades, there was still a very real danger in sparring with them like this, but then again that was the point - literally and figuratively. Her own master before her had started her off with live weapons, he never held back as he often would tell her when she got cut, or broke a bone that the world wouldn’t hold back, why should he? And he had been right, in all her years wandering, he had been completely right. Thus when she had stumbled upon the Night Elf fortress she had offered an exposition of her fighting style in exchange for a few nights accommodations and re-supply, which was humored by the ageless Elven warriors and their interests piqued even further when the elder Pandaren had requested weapons be used against her. This was her third match of the day, the first one on one with a Huntress, the second against a Worgen female and now this one. Myung didn’t mind, she found the matches refreshing, plus there was another reason she was doing this - a reason she kept to herself for the time being.

Ducking out of the way of an incoming blade with the flexibility of a reed in the wind, Myung let herself flow like water around their attacks, those razor-sharp swords coming close, but never quite hitting her. Finally one of the Huntresses showed a slight opening and Myung took it, going on the attack, battering the Huntress with a fury of blows, even trying to get her tied up with the other Huntress using them against each other. It wasn’t easy, they made her work for this bout as she guessed they were both far older than she’d ever reach on this mortal plane despite their youthful looking appearance. She on the other hand didn’t have as much time, but she was practiced enough from training her entire life and hopefully was enough of a fighting novelty to have a slight advantage - maybe. These were Sentinels and they had the fearsome reputation they had for a reason.

Attacks and blocks were swiftly traded between the three until finally Myung sprang on a Huntress’s misstep and disarmed her, the blow making her sword clatter to the ground loudly. The Huntress barely made a grunt and left the ring quickly to soft applause from the onlookers, something both Myung and the other Huntress ignored as the armored Night Elf female instantly swooped in for another attack, the Pandaren noting she was much more fluid in her movements than the other, the sword wasn’t a weapon with this one, it was an extension of herself. Myung admired this, but danced out of the way, her old bones protesting letting her know she was getting too damn old for this nonsense and she should probably know better. Ignoring her body’s complaints, the two females circled each other as Myung looked for a pattern, if she could just find that…

Dashing in, Myung took to the offensive as she slid out of reach of the dancing blade and then spun, a kick to the back of the knee as she then used the Sentinel’s calf to practically climb up the Kaldorei as she hooked her other leg around an arm as she flipped herself forward, and because she had way more mass than the Sentinel did, she took the other woman with her, the two crashing to the ground. Myung however controlled her crash and sprang to her feet deftly, whereas the Sentinel had not been expecting to go flying and landed on her rear, her sword clanging to the ground next to her. Again, the polite applause erupted around the two as Myung walked over and offered a paw to help the Sentinel up.

“Thank you! Good bout,” the Sentinel laughed as she took Myung’s paw, getting up and then grabbing her sword, “You must teach me some moves before you leave.”

“I would be honored,” the Pandaren female smiled happily and then bowed to her former opponent, “Let me know when you can and I will be happy to show you some things, your skill with a sword is most elegant and effective as I would also love to learn from you if you would be willing.”

“Of course!” the Sentinel bobbed her head as the other Huntress she had disarmed earlier came up and they exchanged a few words and bowing to each other in respect as well.

By that time more of the senior officers of the stronghold came up as well, asking her several questions until finally one of them mentioned that Myung must be hungry by now.

“Oh yes! I am famished, no wonder you are all so thin here, you nearly worked it all off of my old bones too!” the Pandaren joked as they led her away from the outside sparring ring to a building with a large room filled with many benches and wonderful aromas wafting out of the back.

This must be what they kept referring to as the ‘Mess Hall’ Myung supposed as the senior Huntresses led her to one of the many similar wooden benches as they sat down together. Other Sentinels were already in there eating, mostly Night Elf, but she could spot some female Worgen among them as well. It seemed everyone ate together, no matter what their rank was as the Pandaren watched with some amusement as the more curious and daring Sentinels jockey ever so slightly to get a seat nearer to where she sat with the Huntresses. Inclining her head she noted what looked to be a serving line where some of the Sentinels stood in line to be served food by their Sisters on duty here, thus Myung made an attempt to stand and go get some grub.

One of the Huntresses made a polite abortive gesture, “Oh, don’t worry, Cookie will bring us some food seeing as we have a special guest today,” she grinned.

True to word, suddenly a couple Kaldorei - males no less as she hadn’t seen too many of them around the fortress, came out bearing trays with bowls of something… spicy or so her clever nose told her. The servers set out the bowls quickly revealing what she knew to be a favorite of the Night elves, kimchi, but that wasn’t all as they were each given a small empty plate with chopsticks as a large bowl of steaming meat dumplings for them to share and different sauces to dip them in.

“What would you like to drink?” the head male asked the group as Myung noted he had kind eyes.

“Tea if it wouldn’t be too much to ask,” she requested.

The male laughed, it was an earthy chuckle she could appreciate, “Elune forbid I ever be without tea! Oh yes, we have tea, we’ve got…”

He rattled off what they had on hand and Myung chose what sounded good to her as the other Huntresses followed suit, she noted they either opted for tea or just plain water as it seems the Kaldorei seemed to keep to simpler tastes, but then again for them it was only lunchtime. She was handed some chopsticks as she was grateful the Night elves favored them as well as she still had trouble using forks and the tiny spoons the other Alliance races seemed to favor. Their drinks arrived just in time as she was about to tuck into her food, but then she noticed they all had their heads bowed and were whispering soft prayers over their food. Feeling a bit awkward she waited for them to finish as they raised their eyes and motioned for her to go right ahead, something she did not have to be told twice.

The kimchi was delicious and different than what she was used to, it was spicy, just the right amount of heat, but there was an amazing smokey flavor to this she’d never experienced before with kimchi. It must have shown on her face that she wasn’t expecting the oral experience she had received as one of the Huntresses cleared her throat and waved the kind-eyed male over as she wiped her mouth out with a napkin.

“Cookie, is this a Myth batch?” she inquired with a knowing look.

The male nodded, “Yes Captain, it is. Just popped them yesterday. He’s got an odd trick where he grills the vegetables lightly before putting them in to ferment.”

“Can’t argue with the results Cookie,” the warrior female replied.

Myung jumped in, “Oh yes, this is amazing, this flavor. My compliments to the chef.”

Suddenly a loud metal crash rang out that must have originated in the kitchen and echoed in the Mess hall suddenly silencing every ongoing conversation as all eyes looked into the kitchen which only had a half wall separating the two areas so they all could look in at the busy cooks… And one very embarassed young male, who had already flushed purple and then tried to find some place to go so he could look busy again. After he fled from view, all the conversations resumed as it never happened as she looked up to note the male known as ‘Cookie’ rolling his eyes a bit.

“He says ‘thank you’,” he said with a slight exasperated, yet amused tone.

“He looks so young to be so skilled in cookery,” she mused outloud.

“Yeah, that’s Cookie’s protégé Mythlleass Wildsword,” the Huntress to her left supplied.

Cocking her black and white head to one side she mused again, “Interesting last name there…”

“Should have been Highblade,” Myung caught another mutter as the one next to her elbowed her to shut up it seemed as the Pandaren wondered what that was about.

“Anyway, I better be getting back to work,” he bowed his head, “If you need anything, just wave me over.”

Ourrin on the other hand was conserving his energies, they had savagely beat him after they had brutalized him in being captured, but pain was nothing new to a Death Knight. He knew the bars would not respond to his glacial powers, so why waste them when he could use them at a more opportune time? Thus he bided his time, watching and waiting, silently learning more about his surroundings so hopefully he could use them to his advantage later. IF there was a later, he was no fool and if it was his time to finally be released of his curse, then so be it as was the Redeemed code, but he had hoped it wouldn’t have been as Legion soul fodder.

“It’s amazing how meek they are once they are captured, no?” a syllabant female voice asked as she stepped into view, some eredar witch with blood red skin and fel tattoos all over her body.

“Oh I wouldn’t get too close Sister,” another with a more gravelly voice replied, “He popped the head off of the last Felguard that did such with his hands.”

Again, the Twice-Born said nothing, just impassively observing the two females as they tittered on.

The first female just smirked, did all of the Legion come with the same smirk? They must practice it on their spare time or something. “Still, more the fool he for trying to sneak onto our Soul Engine. Thought you could do some damage with this meager little toy from those ‘mages’?” she said as she held up the small crystal device that had been given to him by the Kirin Tor.

The Redeemed had been in the Kirin Tor’s employ since shortly after the failed Broken Shore landing, doing missions that were little more than death sentences to any other group. These were the missions the Redeemed preferred, let them be sacrificed to spare the living, and currently the Kirin Tor had no end of such missions. Stupidly he had taken on this particular mission alone, his second-in-command Mayet had been mopping up from a previous mission and he thought he could pull this one off as a single entity (even though Serra always followed him no matter what), but sadly his plan didn’t work out as he had stumbled right into the biggest clutch of Fel Guards he had ever seen. He had put a major dent in their numbers before they finally could pin him down and keep him down.

The first female kept yammering, “-no one will be coming to your rescue Death Knight, and despite your current undead state you still have a soul to be put to a better use for our Lord!” she threatened as she violently crushed the Kirin Tor device, the pieces chiming a bit as they hit the floor.

“Oh, Yeedra,” the other one rolled her eyes, “Do stop trying to talk him into submission, we’re here to prep him for sacrifice, so let’s get going already.”

“You’re taking all the fun out of this,” the other one muttered as she snapped her fingers, more Felguards showing up, all their weapons ready to be used if Ourrin made one misstep.

The disinterested female also snapped her fingers, a flick of fel energy shot to his cage as the door swung open. Ourrin calmly stepped forth looking between them all as if he was in command here, not them as he made the air around him colder than winter in Northrend. He’d go quietly for now, but deep down he knew he was out of ideas, the Legion weren’t fools and he knew it would take a miracle for him to get out of this intact…

And this just may very well be his last moments, period.

After setting down the last of the buckets near the cooking pit she gave Huntress Ever-Tear a big smile and a more proper salute as she was busy cooking breakfast for them all. Iyora spied that there would be enough time for her to go do her morning meditations and prayers before breakfast was ready, which was just how she liked it. She walked back to her tent as Nightpurr popped his giant head out of it sniffing and snuffling, obviously looking for his breakfast. Ducking into her tent she pulled out a ‘Saber meal’ which was packaged meat and other things (such as vitamins hidden in the meat) that were issued for the Sentinel Sabers to eat. She unwrapped it as the giant cat practically danced around her and then she put it down for him to grab and devour. With that done she got dressed in her duty uniform, grabbed her staff and washed her hands outside before going to a visible spot to her Sisters under a tree in the camp to start her morning Priestess rituals. She pulled out a small bit of incense, lit it and just as she started to go through the motions…

“Your ‘Uncle’ would like a word with you,” a gruff and gravelly female voice said above her in a tone of snooty amusement.

Looking up with alarm as she already had her staff in hand to fight she saw what at first looked like a wisp, a wisp that then turned into the familiar form of that small val’kyr that followed her Uncle around. The tiny winged woman smirked viciously at Iyora as Iyora just glared back, no one liked the creepy thing, including her own Uncle Ourrin Highblade. From what Iyora’s father had told her, the story was the little creature had to kill something to become a full val’kyr and had picked Ourrin for some reason. Iyora and her father Jartsam both surmised that since Ourrin was still walking around, that the creature had failed in her endeavors and now just followed their Twice-Born family member around due to some bit of twisted logic that only made sense to it. The val’kyr would do only what Ourrin told it (aside from ‘buzz off’, apparently when Ourrin told her that, she’d just do that creepy grin of hers and giggle and stay put) and if anyone else tried to talk to it, you’d be lucky if all you came away with was a series of painful gashes up an extremity or your face. Mostly he used her to send messages or be a spy/scout for his group of Twice-Born known as the Redeemed as if she kept insisting on hanging around, she might as well make herself useful.

When Iyora didn’t reply fast enough the little creature grinned wider trying to be as unnerving as possible, “He’s outside of camp waiting,” then she jumped off the branch she was perched on and sped off in the direction Ourrin probably was at.

Iyora’s irritated sigh came out more like a growl as she wondered what could her ‘Uncle’ could possibly want. She didn’t like him, he wasn’t her real Uncle Ourrin to her, as that man had died in the Third War. The Twice-born was just a walking, talking, unnerving abomination of his former self and she couldn’t stand being in his presence. Her brow furrowed, what under the Blue Child could he possibly want with her? All of his dealings with this Cadre has always been with the Commander only and thankfully he always left her out of it. He knew she didn’t like him even if her beloved An’da kept insisting his brother was still himself (despite being an ice-cold, no-pulse murder machine), and up until now Ourrin seemed to respect her wishes in giving her a wide berth. So what would…?

Then it hit her. Her last letter to her An’da… Oh. Ooh.

Getting up, she looked around for someone to tell, or go with her as she wasn’t about to walk out of camp proper alone. Finally she spied Guardian Nightbreeze getting out of her tent as she walked right up to her. Saluting her superior she let the Guardian know Ourrin wanted to speak with her. Bovira stood there for a moment digesting the news, looking around until finally she said she could spare some time to accompany her to where Ourrin was waiting. Iyora liked the Guardian the most out of all of her superior officers (if you could, could you do that? That may not be a proper thing to feel about your superiors) as she was the most… calm. Calm, unflappable, quiet and thoughtful, if Iyora needed help she knew out of anyone aside from the Commander, Bovira’s advice was usually the best to heed. Although, currently she hadn’t been exactly heeding Bovira’ advice of late, which made her feel rather guilty. The ursine-looking druidess followed Iyora to the edge of camp where the small val’kyr suddenly flared into existence again in front of them.

“You Sentinels sure are slow,” it chided, again with that smirk that made Iyora itch to slap it off of the thing’s face as then it regarded the Guardian, “But then bears are pretty slow and dumb, shouldn’t be too surprised I guess...”

Oo! Iyora wanted to rain down some holy fire on that smarmy little thing, but then she looked over to Bovira who didn’t even seem to notice it had said anything. The Guardian looked over to the Keeper with her usual serene gaze, a bit of humor dancing in the corner of her eye that somehow made Iyora’s anger just evaporate like morning mist on sunrise. The senior Sentinel wasn’t about to let the val’kyr get under her skin so, which made Iyora feel a bit sheepish that she was being rather thin skinned. The Guardian looked past the winged annoyance as there was Ourrin, mounted on something that almost made Iyora’s jaw drop right there and then.

“Sham’bala?” she choked out as it was indeed, she’d know that Moonsaber anywhere.

The female saber had been a gift between brothers, one of the first litters her Father had ever helped birth, he gave the biggest cub to Ourrin to train and ride as a battle partner and she did not disappoint either brother. She was a huge female and seemed to have just as much an appetite for battle as her rider did back in the day, she was also a proud mother several times over herself, putting off many fine kittens that were quite sought over as battle mounts themselves. Her bloodline is still the pride and joy of her Father, and well known amongst most Kaldorei saber-breeders. However the longer she looked at that Moonsaber, her shock faded into revulsion as she sensed something seriously off about her. As the large saber swung its head around to look at her, she gasped and almost staggered back, Sham’bala’s eyes were dead white and the more she looked the more she realized that Sham’bala was not of this world anymore, at least, not entirely; as one’s eyes traveled down the massive cat’s legs the paws seemed to disappear into vague, misty outlines. She had indeed died during the Third War with her rider and now, somehow she was back once more to follow Ourrin into whatever battle he chose to fight.

“Keeper? Are you alright?” Bovira asked quietly.

Iyora shook her head no, “Sham’bala… it’s a shock to see her like this. I don’t know if her coming back to Ourrin’s side is a blessing or a curse from Elune.”

The Guardian merely pursed her lips and said nothing to that as they saw Ourrin stiffen in his saddle a bit, probably over the fact he sensed Iyora’s discomfort as his jaw tightened under his seemingly paper-thin skin. He dismounted Sham’bala with a pat to the now undead cat’s great flank (a gesture he used to always do when they were alive too, which made the hairs on the back of Iyora’s neck prickle like a fiend) and walked down to meet them both. As he walked, the cat sat down and oddly enough started to clean one of her there-not-there ghostly paws (apparently even death couldn’t stave off feline habits!) as the val’kyr flew up and cackled at the Twice-Born Commander.

“Great job Commander Ourrin! You unsettled her more with your dumb cat than I could have ever hoped to achieve!” she called, very much loud enough to be overheard by Iyora and Bovira.

Suddenly a great paw shot through the air and SLAM! Sham’bala had neatly swatted the annoying val’kyr thing under her giant front paws in another display that alive or dead, a cat was a cat no matter what. The saber opened her translucent paws a bit to see if her prey was still trapped within as a faint groan could be heard accompanied by a small flash of light that meant the val’kyr had teleported herself somewhere. Sham’bala grunted in disappointment and returned to her position and to grooming her ghostly form waiting on her master.

It was Iyora’s turn to smirk now as it did have a satisfactory feel of karma striking the cruel creature, but it didn’t last long as she saw another mounted from behind the familiar Moonsaber as there sat Ourrin’s second-in-command, the only Twice-Born Iyora found even more disturbing than her Uncle, Mayet. Mayet was Ourrin’s shadow in every way as wherever Ourrin was, Mayet wasn’t far behind. The female worgen sat there, her unwavering undead stare seemed to lock into Iyora’s gaze as the Keeper had to turn away, she couldn’t handle the intensity of that woman’s stare for too long. Elune help her, she had stared down a demon once during a mission, but she couldn’t hold Mayet’s eyes for more than a moment without her skin crawling.

In the meantime Ourrin had stopped a few paces away from them and bowed perfectly in greetings to them both, “Guardian Nightbreeze, a pleasure,” his unnatural voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a deep well despite him keeping his tone mellow with the two Sentinels.

“Commander Highblade,” Bovira bowed back in kind as Iyora followed suit, but a tad more stiffly.

“I have been sent to speak with my Niece on behalf of my Brother if I may,” his own unnerving gaze landed on Iyora as she wished she could pull her hood up over not only her head, but her face as well. Although she had to admit, Ourrin’s gaze wasn’t as harsh as Mayet’s, but then maybe Ourrin was modulating his somehow unlike Mayet. Ourrin always seemed more… considerate of the living than Mayet.

Bovira nodded at this, “Very well, I see this is of a personal nature. I will go give my respects to your Second then while you speak,” and with that she clasped her hands behind her back as she walked over to where Mayet was sitting on her mount.

“That’s going to be a very one-sided conversation,” Iyora muttered under her breath as Mayet brought new meaning to ‘silent as the grave’ when it came to trying to talk with her. She wondered if the worgen was in reality mute, but she also had heard her respond to Ourrin once or twice in the past.

Ourrin nodded as Bovira walked by as he pulled a letter out from his belt-pouch and held it out for Iyora to take. Trying not to make a face at him she took it rather hastily and saw her An’da’s handwriting on it addressing her. She didn’t open it yet, instead she finally raised her eyes to meet her Uncle’s otherworldly ones.

After a moment Ourrin finally spoke, “Your Father is concerned about you,” his echoing voice low, soft.

She eyed him for another awkward moment, did this creature just sound concerned for her as well?

“So he told you to come talk to me?” she winced as that came out far more accusatory than she had meant it too.

The Twice-Born didn’t even seem to notice her irritation with him or the situation, “He recieved your letter and spoke with me. He would come himself to see you, but I reminded him he had duties in Darnassus and that the Isles are an open warzone. No place for a family reunion.”

“Yet you’re here,” Iyora muttered again as she rubbed her thumb over the paper of the letter.

He didn’t rise to her childish baiting at all, “You can read the letter now if you wish.”

Ourrin didn’t have to tell her twice as she opened it and started reading.

Dearest Iyora,

I hope this letter finds you in a better place than the last letter you sent me seemed to have you at. I do not think you a fool my daughter, far from it, but at the same time, I do know love can make fools of us all. While it does sound like you have yourself in something of a pickle, it sounds like you already know the answer to the issue with your first friend there, you just need to do it. Soon rather than later would probably be the best bet, while I know you wish to do it in person, I do not think your lifestyle will give you such a chance and it’s better to just get it over with and make your intentions crystal clear to her. As long as you are firm and clear she should back off and I am sorry it came to this between you as it’s never easy to let someone go. If she persists, well, lets just hope she doesn’t and burn that bridge if and when we get there, eh?

As for your other issues… Oh Iyora, you’ve always had such a big heart. Watching you grow up, you’d love every saber you’d meet and it would always break your heart if we lost one. You’d always be out with me tending to wounds and illnesses when other girls your age would rather be out hunting with a bow and arrow. I knew one day you’d fall in love, and you’re somewhat right I was making that face while reading your letter, but your heart is your biggest asset and your biggest weakness. I know, because I have the same big heart and so does your Min’da, you are so our child. We just worry about you as we know you have a good head on your shoulders, but hearts can and will get people into trouble.

All in all, I just want you to be happy and I know you want to heal this boy, but are you sure he’s worth it? I am not criticizing you, just asking questions you should be asking yourself is all. Like you said, being a Sentinel is what you want right now and that is what you should be focusing on, yes?

I know I don’t talk about it much, but I have seen the devastation of using fel energy can bring, and I’m pretty sure with your second deployment in the Isles that you’ve probably seen it too. I don’t quite agree with the ‘Illidari’ stance of fighting fire with fire as in my experience that just gets your and everything around you burned. Your Mother, your Uncle and I, we all survived the War of the Ancients and the Sundering, it is hard for those as old as we are to trust these ‘Illidari’ (Couldn’t they have come up with a better name for themselves? Bah), but please Iyora, if he is using such powers willingly, I fear it cannot end well even if this path was forced upon him.

However I digress, again, I just want you to be happy my Kitten. If he makes you happy, then so be it, just be careful. But, as a concerned An’da I’m sending Ourrin to get a sense of the boy. Don’t get mad at him, he’s doing this on my request to make your old man feel better.

Next time you come home though, I’d love to meet your Heart-Sister Liall! Please bring her by, she sounds very nice.

Know I love you too and always will no matter what.

Love,

Your An’da

P.S. - You’re using protection, yes?

A hot tear escaped her watering eyes and splashed on the letter, blurring the ink in one spot as she quickly wiped her eyes (as well as the postscript making her suddenly blush furiously - An’da!!). Looking up through her moist lashes she noticed Ourrin had turned a bit to give her some privacy and was either not or pretending not to notice her reaction to reading her letter as he was looking off into the distance absent-mindedly stroking his chin stubble. The familiar gesture made her hair stand back on end again as she quickly folded up the letter and put it away in her own belt pouch. Elune, why did he do those things and freak her out? She remembered him doing that all the time when he was thinking, back when he actually had a fuller beard and would get out his long pipe to smoke a bit as well. Was it as An’da said and his former self was still there, just buried?

Finally his eye swung down as he turned to look at her, the moment of seeing her old Uncle again broken and lost as he said nothing, waiting for her to make the first move.

She cleared her throat, “Did you read it?”

“No,” the way he denied it rang like the noise of a hammer hitting a nail home, “It wasn’t addressed to me.”

This shade of her Uncle was a brutally honest one; Iyora relaxed a bit, “Now what?”

“I speak with your Vilaxian Dawnstorm,” his tone slightly more casual now, “Where can I find him?”

She wanted to squirm but restrained herself, “I don’t know. He could be anywhere…”

He could be watching us right now, she thought as she refused to let herself look up into the nearby treeline, however she was being honest, Vilaxian could be anywhere.

The Death Knight studied her carefully for a time, then his gaze rose up, over her head as he scanned the Sentinel camp behind her.

“Dawnstorm…” he muttered as icy shivers ran down her spine, “There’s a Sentinel of that name in your cadre.”

“Lieutenant Dawnstorm, his sister,” she replied quietly.

“Ah,” was all he said, whatever his intentions he wasn’t going to give anything away, least of all to her it seemed.

“D-d-don’t go and talk with her, s-s-she probably w-w-wouldn’t know where he is either,” her studder finally reared its head as she winced.

Again, those cold, cold eyes regarded her, “I wouldn’t, I’d just speak with Commander Wintershade.”

“No!” she yelped then flushed, how under the Blue Child did this man get under her skin so? She’d damn him, but he was already damned!

“So your Commander doesn’t know…”

“She also wouldn’t know where he is, he’s not welcome in camp,” she rapidly tried to change the direction that the conversation was going in, “And if you must know, it’s not exactly a secret, two of my senior officers know… about him and… me…” she flicked her eyes towards where Guardian Nightbreeze was with Mayet and started to envy her and her probable non-conversation with the other Twice-Born.

Ourrin didn’t follow her gaze, “What is the Sentinel policy on dealing with Illidari then?”

Physically deflating she told him, “We are not to go after them unless they attack us first, but we’re not supposed to associate with them unless the circumstances are dire.”

Silence descended between them as finally his gaze lifted off of her again and scanned around. He didn’t have to say anything her guilty conscious was doing enough damage inside of her as it was, this just brought it all back up for her.

Finally she whispered, “H-h-he’s not really an Illidari… just like you’re not really my Uncle.”

She saw the impact of the words hit Ourrin as his cool gaze, dimmed, the skin around his eyes crinkling up a touch, the air around them suddenly getting colder. She bit her lip as her heart leapt into her throat.

Sadness, bottomless sadness sprang up in those dead eyes, “Iyora… I…” he started, and for that split second, he didn’t sound like a Death Knight with their hollow, echoing voices, he sounded like how he used to sound, like the living, breathing Ourrin Highblade of yore that had saved her life once - the man that was her personal hero - and she just lost it.

“No! I am Keeper Silverhawk to you! I don’t know what you are, and you may have my An’da fooled, but you won’t fool me! My Uncle Ourrin is dead! You’re just some poor facsimile!”

Whatever the Twice-Born was going to say, it died on his frozen lips as they just pressed back together and his eyes renewed their chilly, still gaze. Turning crisply on his heel he said nothing more to her as he walked away, leaving her shaking with anger and remorse in his wake.

Bovira and Mayet had already been looking over as they both probably heard her last outburst as the Guardian nodded at Mayet and amazingly enough Mayet briefly nodded back as the Druidess left to return to Iyora’s side. In passing Ourrin, they both bowed again and said their polite farewells as Ourrin swung up into Sham’bala’s saddle as he urged her into a walk, Mayet’s mount instantly falling into stride next to them as they left.

The Guardian looked on Iyora with concerned eyes and asked for the second time this evening, “Are you okay Keeper?”

Just shook her head no, but didn’t elaborate further to her superior. Already she felt and inch tall, she shouldn’t have said that, she shouldn’t have said that… Oh Elune, I am horrible, terrible...

“Come on, let’s go get some breakfast,” Bovira said with reassuring smile and a hand on Iyora’s shoulder as she nudged the Keeper into starting to walk back to the camp proper.

As they walked back, she finally found her voice to reply, “I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

“You know why she yelled at you, don’t you?” the male voice died giving way to the hissing and crackling that let one know the Gnomish device was actually working (and not about to blow up, that was when it started whining as they had learned the hard way once… or twice).

Ourrin stood there for a long moment, not hitting the button so he could speak back to his Brother through the Gnomecorder. Mayet looked up at him briefly from her mapping something out on the papers spread out before her and gave him a knowing look, but didn’t say a word. They didn’t need to, theirs was a relationship where words weren’t always needed.

Mulling it over, he finally hit the button, “I pushed her too far.”

Jartsam’s voice came back over the speaker, “No, it wasn’t entirely that.”

Rubbing an eyebrow with a finger he was finding communication with the living tedious as usual, moreso today as he knew he shouldn’t have gotten involved in this. Why did he feel such loyalty towards this male?

It was a rhetorical question as he knew the answer, they were brothers, but moreso that Jartsam was still one of the very few to accept him as he was currently. Also one of the very few that he could go to for answers when his fractured memories decided to act up. The other was his daughter Sharina Sylversword, but she had her own mountain of issues, so he didn’t like imposing his problems on top of hers.

“You probably don’t remember, but you saved her life once. She used to idolize you,” Jartsam paused for a moment to let that sink in and then chuckled, “Heh, I remember she once came home from Temple with a bloody nose from a fight with another acolyte that had been bad mouthing your good name and our usually docile Iyora apparently stomped her.”

“She’s not all that docile,” he replied dryly thinking back to earlier this evening, “And I don’t believe I ever had a ‘good name’,” a bodiless cackle followed that from the ever present val’kyr annoyance hiding somewhere in the room.

Mayet got up to get something from across the room next to him as she put a hand on Ourrin’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. He gently lifted her hand to his lips for a moment before releasing it as she walked back to the desk.

Ourrin heard Jartsam sigh, “The point is, I feel with you she is still not over your death. It felt like betrayal to her for you to go off and die and now that you’re, well…”

“‘A poor facsimile of my former self?’” he quoted, banal.

“Elune, is that what she said?”

The Death Knight was not one to a) repeat himself or b) answer seemingly rhetorical questions so he just didn’t say anything as something of a grumbling noise could be heard over the line from Jartsam’s end.

“Aw, his little precious baby girl is just a big brat!” Serra cat-called from above them now, as he could pinpoint her location to be somewhere in the rafters above.

Mayet eyed the rafters of their room for a long moment, but then turned back to her papers, the worgen female had a propensity for attacking the val’kyr with her blood magics just on principle. His Second was also very good at biding her time.

The static broke to give way to Jartsam’s voice again, “She’s young… it’s probably just Kitten-love...”

“Don’t,” Ourrin stopped him dead, “She said her piece, the reasons aren’t important to the matter at hand. I will still go speak with this Vilaxian and get back with you.”

“Thank you Brother,” Jartsam signed off with a weary voice as Ourrin shut off the crackling machine back into stark silence.

Ourrin steeped his long fingers before him as he leaned back into his seat asking himself again why exactly he was doing this. However before he thought himself into a spiraling dark mood he felt Mayet slide up and press her body against his as he wrapped his arms around her. Her presence brought a measure of calm as the two just lay there, not saying anything as again, words were not required.

“By Odyn, you two are disgusting,” the val’kyr spat destroying the stillness which was promptly followed up by Mayet shooting a blood boil bolt, nailing Serra as the thing yelped and teleported off somewhere.