Since receiving the card Sahir had not only memorized his role, but also come up with a number of head-cannons. Apparently, when the internet was down, he found it astoundingly easy to divert his focus to other such tasks. Not that he was terribly happy about the fact. 

Glass of red wine in hand he moved about the room, a five piece finely tailored suit replacing his normal three piece look. He was already tall and fairly well muscular, so the act of a bouncer wasn’t hard to pull off. Finding the name tag on the new Swedish heir wasn’t difficult either and he sauntered up with an easy smile. “Ah, Ms. Vanilla, enjoying the party I hope? I’ve already seen a number of your clients around.” 

Anza swatted at another fly, annoyed. Honestly, she thought. A frightening large insect flew near her. A stinger? It’s a stinger. Proboscis? Who cares. Anza’s eyes narrowed in resignation. She concentrated on her enemies: insects. Of all types.

 A golden radiance pulsed briefly outward and around the priest. Threatening, buzzing insects (and even assuredly those who weren’t so threatening) fell to the ground, dead. Anza floated on clouds through the swamp. It was rather convenient to levitate.

 The priest finally approached her goal: a charming home near the coast in the Swamp of Sorrows. Cannily tucked away. Almost deliberately so. But not so ostentatious as to scream: ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE. Still. Anza looked down at her notes, the goblin writing nigh unintelligible:

 Do not. & I repeat: DO NOT BO N3AR THa OKR4. It’l probebLy dill u.

 Nonsense. Their intelligence is probably as good as their penmanship.

 An invigorating breeze rustled by, cooled by the sea. The plants in the garden near the tidy little home rustled in luxurious happiness. Anza pointedly avoided what looked like the okra; no one could trust a plant that grew vegetal spikes, as flawed as the intelligence may be.

 Ignoring the (allegedly) killer vegetation, the home really was well blended into its surroundings. It didn’t so much disappear as simply deflect one’s eyes because it seemed so organically suited to its surroundings. And yet, there was a flaw.

 An almost imperceptible wisp of smoke curled from the narrow chimney. Cooking? The savory, sweet, ubiquitous scent of crocolisk gumbo simmering on a hearth permeated the air. Anza smiled. Reb’kah.

 The priest felt no need to be shy. She levitated down the path, noticing the trip wire: Reb. Peering down at the rune on the stone in front of her, she mused: this is really quite dangerous.

 I suppose I simply announce myself. Purple energy swirled around the blood elf, seeking out and negating magical effects.

 The thick wooden door immediately sprang open. Inside stood a fiery-haired orc, busy in her kitchen.  Her right hand continued to stir the gumbo, but her left rose with sharply bent fingers as dark magic gathered around it – then shot out toward the intruder.

 “Wai---"

 The priestess’ blue eyes widened as she reached for the Light – although her shimmering shield was instantly cancelled by an evil-looking skull smashing into it.

 “Hello, Rebkah.”

  The orc offered a sideways glance.

 “Thank you for not doing permanent damage.”

 “I heard you were coming, Anza. Come in.” The warlock lifted a spoon to her mouth for a taste, looking rather pleased. Anza lifted the hem of her robe and stepped inside the foyer. The cottage was tasteful and roomy, actually a bit less ostentatious than the elf had come to expect from the orc. Her glance took in subdued crimson walls, a magohany cabinet, clearly Pandaren-carved with clouds and wind serpents, delicate silken drapes in lilac, possibly of Nightborne make, and a curious collection of nautical instruments in brass – were they Kul’tiran?

 “I would have written well in advance but you know how unreliable it is to send messages of import quickly these days. I relied on other means.”

 A goblin with exceedingly blue curly hair and a tray of what looked like very cold beverages walked in and bowed. “Refreshments, Lady Reb’kah, Lady Anza.”

 With a thud, the small green woman shakily set the drinks down at a table in the living room, which had already been prepared with tropical fruits and exotic meats in expectation of a guest. Reb’kah glared at the servant.

 “Oh, Reb. Leave the poor dear alone.”

 The much taller orc narrowed her eyes at the goblin, who quietly yelped and ran, and the warlock went back to tending the gumbo. Contentedly.

 Anza smiled. “You look well.”

 Reb’kah smiled in turn. “I am.”

 “And your husband is a mercenary on the high seas?”

 “He’s an entrepreneur.”

 “In shipping?”

 “Yes. Also, cargo transport. Sometimes requisition.”

 “A pirate.”

 “A businessman, a captain and occasional privateer.” Reb’kah’s tone was final.

 Pirate. Anza thought. And takes a sip of the very cold and insanely refreshing beverage. Seafoam coconut water? With just a bit of rum, and something else.. If she poisoned me, it was worth it. And smiles again.

 Reb’kah’s eyes focus on Anza. “I have heard that a certain faction of elves visited the Sunwell some time ago.”

 “Yes.” Anza grabbed a bit of Zeb’ahari kiwi, known for its pale green shade, and a thinly sliced piece of meat and popped it into her mouth.

 “And?”

 Anza, annoyed, replied: “They came, they did not destroy our entire civilization, and, thankfully, they are gone.”

 “But they remain. In the Eastern Kingdoms, that is.”

 Anza, looking more anxious than perhaps Reb has seen her before, waved her hand in dismissal.

 “Yes, but Reb, and I am sorry for barging in on you like this, but you’ve heard what has happened.”

 Reb’kah looked down at the gumbo, then reflexively added a dried herb from a basin at her side. She stirred in the tiny green pieces, and leaned forward to smell the effect.

 “I’ve heard. And while I’ve helped save Azeroth before, you must know that I have new responsibilities.” Though she’d been cooking with her left hand; her right hand held the subtle outline of her growing child, strong yellow fingers against a black embersilk gown, subtly embroidered.

 “I’m so happy for you, Reb.” Anza stood up, and gazed out of the window, facing the seashore. She closed her eyes, breathing the clean, though slightly salty air in. “You know what Sylvanas has done.”

 “I do.” Rebkah turns to Anza. “But I don’t know what it means for the future..yet.”

 “Neither do I. But I know you can help.”

 Reb’kah retrieved bowls and scooped rice into them, leaving plenty of space to ladle gumbo atop. She placed a bowl of crocolisk gumbo in front of Anza.

 “How? I’ve had to cut back on chaos magic due to this pregnancy. So I’m really not interested in stepping into the realms of the dead at all. Nor chasing down someone who never should have been made Warchief to begin with.”

 Anza leaned forward, using delicate fingers to waft in the smell of the hot gumbo. She smiled, taking a big bite of the stew with her spoon.

 “DERR ARE COFENANFS.”

 Reb’kah delayed her first bite from her own bowl, frustrated because this meal had taken hours. “What?”

 Anza swallowed. “This really is good. What I mean to say is, in the Shadowlands, apparently there are factions at play.”

 “And how do you know this?” said Reb’kah, taking a conservative bite of the gumbo in front of her.

 “The same as you.” Anza said. Reb’kah grunted. “You’ve heard the same from your informants as I have.”

 The orc nodded to herself in contemplation, it really is deliciou…

 “Yes, Reb, it is really fantastic gumbo. I’m going to finish it. I’m shoving my face full right now.” Anza was sincerely eating very quickly and not as elegantly as Reb’kah was accustomed to. “What resources can you supply for this effort?” Anza masticated.

 The warlock leaned back in her chair, further testing the strength of the fabric cushion, one of those slightly ridiculous Goblin pineapple prints. “I think that there is more than enough work to be done right here in Azeroth, right now.”

 “I agree, Reb. But we must address this new threat. There are entirely new possibilities.” Anza swallowed, looking guilty. “You know the value of souls, Reb. There are entire factions ebbing and flowing in the world that Sylvanas has unleashed. And regardless of your view of Sylvanas, we must prevent the destruction of reality.” Anza looked down at her food. “It really may be that dire.”

 The priestess sat up straight, shoulders back, looking directly at her orc friend of many years. “I will infiltrate Bastion. I know that I will have influence; I will aim for prestige. I will have to prove myself to them first, but then I will have much more information. I only ask that you provide me with information of whatever faction that you decide to join… and I will reciprocate.”

 Reb’kah’s eyebrow raised as she took a delicate bite. “I’m not sure that I have time for any of this.”

 Anza nods. “That’s fine. But you have other resources. Other minions.” She coughed delicately. “Employees. At your command. Competent people. Send them to the Shadowlands. I will share what information that I have with you. If you do the same, we may have influence in this newly discovered reality that Sylvanas has thrust upon us. Please.”

 The warlock took another, larger bite of gumbo. “Fine.” She decided, after a few moments. “I’ll help. But don’t hold me accountable for any souls that are lost along the way.” Reb’kah looked both serious and dismissive as she continued to eat.

 Anza, pragmatic and with only a distant air of distaste, said, “Deal.”

 A seabreeze rustled the drapes, bringing an unexpected chill to the air.  Though it was still much warmer than the icy winds currently blowing through Northrend – that frozen continent where the realm of death itself had began to seep into Azeroth through a shattered sky.

Me: *Creepily & conspicuously staring at my crush*

Beckah: Coleeeetttee, what are you staring at?

Hui: Yeaaaaah Coleeeeettee WHAT are you staring at?

Me: NO ONE!

Beckah: No one? You're staring at SOMEONE?

Hui: Yeah we asked WHAT are you staring at not WHO.