#silvendiel

  He slid from the bed and moved to stare out one of the several large, silk draped windows. Once again, a shadow caught his eye. This time not one, but two shadows moved across the yard. One of the shadows, the smallest of the two, was nearing the house, and he smiled knowingly. 

Neeva had already been on the move and tomorrow he would no doubt sense more wards around the home, along with the strange rune-like symbols that had been somehow burned into the grass along the edges of the property, and the questionable lines of pungent herbal powder  around the home and dusted along the windowsills. He had even found it lining the inner edges of his personal balcony and outside of doors to several of the rooms, including Viex'ha's. 

His father had always claimed that she was a witch, something she had denied with a click of her tongue and a smile - but her ability to know things that she had no way of knowing had always made the men in the family wary - mostly because they were afraid she would find out about something Lady Dath'anar might scold them for. 

His gaze moved to the second shadow, one that he had lost track of. Catching sight of it again, this time closer, he knew that the luminous icy eyes were staring up at him and he imagined he saw a small nod before it moved away again. 

Dath'anar manor now had another security system - one that never sleeps.

He was officially on a small vacation of sorts, and had only a handful of meetings to attend until the week's end was over. He pondered what to do with all that time on his hands, and was intrigued that for once he looked forward to time away from the battlefield. Perhaps it had something to do with less battle, more paperwork in recent weeks. The Reliquary was wrapping up their excavations in Ashran and the Alliance forces were retreating more and more, which meant everything was wrapping up.

After the mess that had become of the Order's recruitment office since the time that many were deployed to Draenor, he had settled into the grueling task of finding out just why so many Blood Knight recruits had been allowed past their application to the Order. Many were not fit to be knights, and had no interest in fulfilling the tasks necessary - this meant pouring over paperwork to find discrepancies, and he abhorred paperwork.

 He gave a small shake of his head as he rounded the bend of the beaten, stone lined path that led to the stables, his gaze shifting to some of the windows set high on the second story of the large manor house.

The morning sun was glaring against one particular set of windows, windows that belonged to a room that his guest was supposed to be resting in. The knight dismounted with a small greeting to the stablehand and smirked as Isis bumped her head against the young elf's chest, rubbing against him affectionately and nearly knocking the boy over.

He gave a sigh as he pushed through the heavy wooden door and immediately headed for the stairs. He didn't know if Ria had returned to the manor or not, and the thought brought on another bout of irritation, though he knew it was pointless and irrational. However, he held firmly to the opinion that if asked by someone for medical attention and that person is given medical advice, they should follow it-- and now everyone who had a part in her little trip had gained his ire.

As he passed one of the many guest rooms, the scent of spicy herbal tea hit his nose.

Perhaps he needed this vacation more than he realized, he thought as he pushed a set of double doors open, allowing him entrance to his bedroom. He went about stripping out of his armor and under-armor before walking into the large shower in the adjoining bathing room. Having scrubbed the blood and grime from his skin and hair, he redressed in casual clothing and made his way down the hall, his soft leather boots nearly silent against the hardwood floor.

He listened at the door of the guest room before slowly pushing it open and poking his head inside; the view he was given was of a woman sitting still, in what appeared to be meditation or sleep, he wasn't positive which. Either way, he made his way into the room as quietly as possible, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her, his head tipping slightly to one side. She moved then, the slightest shift in breathing pattern that both his keen eyesight and hearing caught.

"So you did return." he said simply, his gaze falling onto the teapot of what he recognized as one of Neeva's many medicinal teas, his nose wrinkling slightly at the memory of drinking more than his fair share of similar brews.

The pain abruptly stopped.

The knight gasped, one hand clutching his chest as he caught his breath, his pale skin flushed and slick with sweat. After a short time, he had managed to calm himself, but his relief was short-lived. Frozen, he stared at a spot on the ground, his normally impassive gaze replaced with wide-eyed panic.

The light was gone.

He reached out to draw on it only to find nothing there, not from the inside, nor the outside...there was simply a void. His gaze dropped to his outstretched hands, the subtle glow that his pale skin normally held was now dull, ordinary. He remembered the searing pain, the violent scorching and tugging against his flesh and spirit, and the paladin realized then what had transpired.

The light had been forcefully taken from him.

Silvendiel's eyes snapped open to stare up at the ceiling of his darkened bedroom, just a faint flicker from an arcane lantern to provide any real light in the large, opulent room. Black silk sheets pooled at his waist, his silver hair tousled and damp with sweat. He hesitantly reached for the power that dwelled within him and gave a small sigh as it immediately reacted, the radiating light calming his somewhat shaken nerves.

Nightmares usually did not bother him, nor was he often plagued by them, but this one had felt odd, different. He had just begun to turn over when he froze, hearing a soft cry from down the hall. The knight's senses keenly alert at this point, he could make out a very faint tune being sung, her voice recanting the tale of a nursery rhyme. Perhaps he had not been the only one to have less-than-stellar dreams that evening. He slipped from his bed and made his way down the hall dressed in nothing but black form fitting undershorts, his bare feet padding almost silently against the hardwood floor.

He paused at her door, his head cocked slightly as he listened for movement inside, but heard none. His hand moved to grip the door handle, quietly pushing the door open to reveal the interior of the room Viex'ha had chosen for herself. Swiftly and silently he closed the door behind him and moved toward the bed where two sleeping figures lay, and he paused there, silently watching mother and son sleeping peacefully amongst the soft, luxurious bedding. He reached down to draw a finger over Da'leniel's cheek before the memory of the dream came back to him.

A small frown marred his brow as he puzzled over it, and what it could possibly mean, if it meant anything at all. Something inside him bristled at not having that power to draw on in order to protect the little unconventional family they had created and after standing there thinking on it, he finally lifted the edge of the silken bedding and climbed in, pressing himself against the woman's back and draping an arm over her, his hand resting lightly on their son's stomach. 

Encircling them protectively the best he could and satisfied with their safety and comfort for the time being, he allowed his eyes to close and settled into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

The Sin'dorei were not known for their celebration of the seasons, as they saw very little of them in their somewhat sheltered, magically sustained lands; however, there were a few lingering traditions, and with the influence of the humans, and then the races of the Horde, many Sin'dorei families had taken up the celebration of the seasons. Dath'anar manor was currently decorated with festive Winter’s Veil flair, albeit modestly so. As the Blood Knight looked around the room, he smiled softly at the small touches that his housekeeper, Neeva, had made for the holidays. This one was extra special, she had stated to him the week before; after all, there were now two elflings under the roof.

He turned his attention to his mother’s piano, the black polished wood gleaming in the candlelight. Neeva had gone and bought a small potted tree, it seemed, and it was currently perched on the center of the piano, surrounded by a red tree skirt embroidered with silver branches and white snowflakes. A box sat next to the tree, and it was this that he stepped closer to see; within the box sat many different colorful baubles with hooks – decorations for the tree, he assumed. Some were small bells, others frosted orbs, delicate leaves or diamond shaped crystals that created tiny prism rainbows on the surrounding surfaces.

Neeva had made sure that he would be home this evening and the next day; he had been working long hours, though he had requested, much to his horror, a temporary “agreement” with his superiors to keep him on paperwork duty a few days a week, something he loathed; however, with his own elfling at home, and now Pheletes’ young sister living at the manor, he felt he needed to be closer to home.  After enduring a three-day covert recovery mission in Ashran, he had come back to find that he was the only one who had returned from missions that week.

Viex'ha, the mother of his child, had left on an important mission and had not come back.

Pheletes, his lover,  had been sent on a mission and had not come back.

To say that he wasn’t worried, would not be truthful in the least bit. He trusted them both, in skill and intelligence, but their absence bothered him greatly. He was used to Viex'ha’s spontaneous, sometimes lengthy disappearances…it came with the territory of her work, after all. Secret this and secret that. Pheletes, however… The knight frowned, his gaze flicking upward as Anica entered the room with Neeva. Neeva bore a plate of what appeared to be cookies and Silvendiel could easily catch the scent of ginger and molasses wafting through the air. Anica, he had noticed, was taking her brother’s absence hard and was trying not to show it. He had spoken to her a few times, assuring her that her brother would return when he could, but her obvious fear and doubts were beginning to affect him. He himself was beginning to worry.

As the battle had begun to slow, he had the chance to observe the hunter more intimately; he watched as the man’s arm pulled back the nocked arrow, one of his green eyes squinting closed before he let the arrow fly. This was something Silvendiel was quite familiar with, being an accomplished archer himself, and he could not help but admire the woodsman’s form. He watched as the hunter’s gaze moved smoothly between targets, and watched as an arm lifted to snag an arrow from his back before nocking it, aiming and releasing. Pheletes darted forward, slightly crouched as he found a better position, and the Blood Knight’s lips twitched upward on one side as their eyes met, albeit briefly.

There were no specific details about the hunter’s appearance that made him attractive to the knight. He was rather plain when Silvendiel thought about it, lacking the ultra-fine, angular features of the majority of their kin and rather simply garbed in average, unadorned clothing while not suited in his chainmail armor. Perhaps it was the unassuming display that he found attractive…a sort of handsome elven ruggedness unhindered by pretentious ideals.

Whatever it was, the knight had become quite enamored with studying the man while he was dutifully focused on the battle.

It was not the man’s appearance that had originally attracted him, but rather his mind. He thought that perhaps they were somewhat similar in that they both had an easy nature about them, but both also heavily guarded with their emotions in most things. Their connection had been instant, he thought; they fell into easy conversation that was laced with teasing jabs and whimsical fables…something the Blood Knight had thoroughly enjoyed, though it also reminded him of the beginnings of a previous relationship that had also begun on the very rock he and Pheletes had met upon.

As he continued to watch the hunter move, taking note of every small detail, every quirk, every subtle expression, he pondered where this  liaison might lead. The knight was hesitant as he always was; while his general thoughts on the matter of relationships had shifted -for the better, he supposed- he still felt the need to step back, to keep those walls firmly in place. However, curiously, the instinct to go forward was far stronger and this puzzled him greatly.

His eyes strayed over the strong jaw and fell to the hunter’s lips, now held in a flat line as he watched the moving throng of soldiers; lips that Silvendiel had tasted and teased and bitten until they had bled.

His Light works much the way any other magic or energy work, in which it can be controlled precisely for intricate jobs. In this case, allowing careful strands of Light to quest through a body, he could use it to sense when something was not right.  As he allowed his power to flow through her, the first pass found nothing amiss – with the exception of a disruption somewhere below her core.

With females, this could be a number of things, but given his suspicions, one of two things would have to be done: he would either have to directly filter the light through the area, or give her a physical examination, something he was not all that comfortable with, nor did they have an appropriate area to conduct it, given they were standing in Farstrider Square.

She was becoming restless, frustrated, he knew, and so he lowered his hand over her abdomen and gently quested forward with his powers. It was not long before he found what he was looking for; all he could describe it as was a “disturbance”. The life energy felt very different here and he felt as if light was bouncing back, echoing off of his own. It was not Viex'ha’s life energy.

He had quested further, his light gently embracing the tiny area when he felt it again, stronger this time; no, it was not Viex'ha’s life energy he felt, but it was definitely life. He had smiled then, feeling a trill of joy. “There you are…” he said softly, his power still curling gently around the tiny ball of energy. He had come back to himself then, remembering with a certain shock that they were still standing in Farstrider Square and Viex'ha’s gaze upon him was something like a mixture of irritation, bafflement and shock.

She knew.

He had not done such an examination in many years, far more than two decades, he was sure, but even as she was displaying her shock vocally, he was quickly calculating the possible age of the fetus. Repeatedly his mind went over the data collected and when he came to the conclusion, he felt several emotions bubble up at once: Hope, joy and trepidation. He could almost feel the blood drain from his face as he pondered the consequences. He had watched her closely these several seconds that had passed before he became concerned for her well-being. She appeared to be in shock, and despite his own previous suspicions, he too found himself feeling overwhelmed and dumbstruck.