#syrielle

Ruthar watches her uncork the wine bottle, enjoying the sight of someone else kick off the drinking for a change. He rubs the back of his neck. "Oh, a while ago, for sure. But the tables in Fairbreeze aren't going anywhere and I'm a patient elf." He picks up a crystal glass and slides it in Ina'thia's direction.

Ina'thia is quick to pour into Ruthar's glass, then into her own. "I ran into Li-Mei last night. What's her status, these days? Still a traitor... probationary... questionable...?" 

Ruthar chuckles dryly, taking up the glass. He lofts it, somewhat dismissively. "Before we slide directly into that sort of business, to fond memories in a fond locale. I do appreciate the invitation, whatever the circumstances may be." He holds the glass aloft for a soft clink.

Ina'thia raises her own glass to toast with Ruthar, "You're right, you're right. My mind and entire life have been going entirely too fast. I planned to slow down, but here I am. Talking business." 

Ruthar clinks it, sipping the Thalassian red softly, cherishing the taste before popping a small fruit into his mouth. "Commander Dawnblade," he quips. "I don't believe you have ever had a reputation for slowing down."

Ina'thia takes a sip of her own wine, following it with a small wedge of cheese. "And that's where I'd say 'Lt. Commander Ronaestrider, I'll slow down when I'm dead!', right?" She laughs into her wine glass. 

Ruthar smirks at that. "Truly, the memories come swirling back on this beach. A lifetime ago, it feels..." He allows the moment to slip, taking another gentle sip before returning to the present. "Interesting that you would mention Li-Mei first and foremost - I only just today received an unprompted missive from her."

Ina'thia 's gaze trails past Ruthar to the beach itself as she relives her own memories. "She's looking for... something. Work? Assignment? Belonging? I'm not sure what to do about her." 

Ruthar nods, his expression somewhat quizzical. "Precisely," he admits. "That was nearly verbatim what was in her note."

Ina'thia lazily plucks a grape off of the picnic spread and pops it into her mouth. She rests her elbow on the table, chin in hand, thoughtfully chewing. "Part of this is an apology for not letting you know of my current assignment sooner. I'm sure you've heard about it, from the Magistry. Runestones. It's... not a strictly military affair. Li-Mei needs structure and I'm not sure if I can provide that." 

Ruthar nods slowly, his eyes shifting down toward the spread a moment. "I heard whispers, certainly. Of course, I don't have the strongest of ties to the Magistry these days, so I know precious little. I would assume, as always, it is a need-to-know situation."

Ina'thia watches Ruthar, "I wanted to tell you, but things moved quickly. I would welcome your involvement, however much you can provide. I know the Farstriders keep you busy." 

Syrielle smiles brightly as she silently approaches the familiar faces.

Ruthar nods. "Busy is certainly one way to..." His eyes shift over to his left and widen as he catches sight of Syrielle. "Goodness, I wasn't aware this would be such an occasion," he leans back, raising his glass toward Syrielle.

Syrielle brings her hand around over Ina's eyes, "Guess who!" She giggles playfully.

Ina'thia 's ears flick as she feels a presence behind her. Before she can turn around, hands cover the top half of her face! Her first reaction is to snarl, but her expression turns into a bright smile when she realizes who it is. "Syrie! I -just- sent that letter before I came out here. Are you that anxious to get out of the big fancy house?" 

Ruthar lifts himself up partially to pour a glass of red, sliding it across the table toward the empty seat next to Ina'thia.

Syrielle wraps her arms around Ina in a hug, "Just got out of a boring meeting actually. It was perfect timing! Oooh! We drinking?”

Ruthar smirks, pushing the glass even further. "Always."

Ina'thia leans in to Syrie's hug, then pats the seat next to her. "Eversong Red, the best and only! Come, come. This is hardly boring." 

Ruthar cants his head to the side at Ina'thia curiously. "You are quite...different than the last we spoke. Dare I say, happy? Content? This must be some project you've got."

Ina'thia raises a brow to Ruthar as she sips at her wine, holding the glass to her lips longer than normal as she measures her response. "Having a new project helps. Settling some personal issues also helps." 

Syrielle takes a seat next to Ina. Her gloved hand reaches for the drink, "That the new project Bey's got his eye on?"

Ruthar narrows his eyes curiously as he takes another sip, listening for the moment though curiosity radiates from his features.

“Must be quite a project!” Syrielle exclaims. “I haven't seen him in this good of a mood ever since…”

Ina'thia sets her glass down, "He's quite involved." She mutters under her breath, forgetting for a moment that she's in the company of elves. "We're quite involved. ANYWAY. This project is to restore some of the runestones that made Ban'dinoriel!"

Syrielle gasps at Ina'thia. “Ohmygoshreally?!” Her ears perk all the way up and her eyes glow with excitement, "You're together again?! AHHHHHHH!" She hugs Ina, again.

“Ban'dinoriel is long gone,” Ruthar states matter-of-factly. “The only restoration of note here is between you and the Magister, it seems.”

Ina'thia lifts an arm so that Syrie can go in for all of the hugs, but also so she can pat the top of Syrie's head. "Shan'dor still functions, and there are other, smaller runestones. If we can piece those back together, imagine what could be done for the others. Plus, I've gained a reputation as actually accomplishing the impossible. It's far from surviving suicide missions through the Dark Portal... but it gives me purpose." 

Ina'thia is, pointedly, not discussing Bey'ron.

Syrielle is focused solely on the Bey’ron and Ina thing, but is content to just keep hugging Ina happily, allowing she and Ruthar to continue their conversation.

Ruthar considers that, taking another sip before sampling a piece of Sunsail Gouda. "Knight-Lord Dawnblade has a new venture surrounded by magic-oriented folks? That seems like an...interesting choice."

Ruthar smirks as he takes another sip. "No offense, of course. Clearly, there is a little magic in you now."

Syrielle grins wickedly at Ina'thia. “Yeah there is!”

Ina'thia playfully messes up Syrie's tiara, "Plenty of other familiar faces in the group. Hawkcrest, Dawnreaer, Ravenscar, Bloodwrath, Tiderunner..." 

Syrielle chuckles, releasing Ina so that she can fix up her tiara.

Ruthar snaps up a little at that. "Ranger Captain Hawkcrest? Goodness, it sounds like you plan to beat the stones back into service."

Ina'thia snickers at Ruthar, "Well, has anyone tried that yet? It just might work."

Ruthar shakes his head with a smirk, reaching to pour another glass. "Fair enough, I suppose, though I was unaware the Knights had such a vested interest in magical defenses. A sign of collectivism that we should all aspire to, certainly."

“You getting the Guard back together?” Syrielle asks.

Ina'thia shakes her head, "No. The Guard is long gone... this is something new. Magistrix Silverspell is calling us the Runesworn." She shrugs a little bit. "The Blood Knights and the Magistry have always had a close relationship..." 

Syrielle grins at Ina, "Yeah, they have."

“Sometimes fraught,” Ina’thia continues, “but one nonetheless. It hearkens back to old times for our Order, but far more pleasant circumstances." 

Syrielle waggles her eyebrows at Ina.

Ina'thia holds the driest possible cracker up to Syrie's mouth, hoping she'll be too occupied with chewing and swallowing a desert than talking about Bey'ron.

Ruthar snorts into the wine glass at Syri before resting it down to sample some Falthrien Fontina. "Doesn't seem to me that there is much need for us old, non-magical defenders."

"There's magic around us everywhere in Quel'Thalas,” Ina’thia offers. “The leylines, the Light, even the land itself. Even if I don't understand it, I can protect those that do." 

Syrielle smirks as she chews the cracker, taking a sip of wine to help with it.

Ruthar nods, taking a long sip. "So, Li-Mei is interested in this as well? I take it that such a desire is the catalyst for her note."

Ina'thia drums her fingers on the edge of the table. She seems a little frustrated, and not quite sure how to articulate it. "I don't know if she's interested in this particularly, or just... -anything-. I don't know if I can trust her to keep the magical secrets we are already discovering." 

Ruthar considers that. "It is that very betrayal of magical secrets that exposed Ban'dinoriel in the first place, but I wouldn't say Li-Mei is the next Drathir..."

Syrielle finally swallows down that cracker, "She would never do it out of malice or on purpose, for sure."

Ina'thia nods slowly, "...I know, but the fact that I wonder about it gives me pause. And as I said; this isn't a military operation. It's not the Guard. There's no rank or role for her to be neatly boxed into." 

“How has she been doing?” Syrielle inquires. “I haven't seen her since the trial.”

Ruthar munches on a grape before replying. "Fairly well, from what I understand. In fact, I worked alongside her and Lord Everblaze in apprehending a traitor to the Kingdom along the southern border recently. Certainly, the Magister would vouch for her given those circumstances in addition to all his other efforts in her favour."

“Oh! You helped bring Sunwhisper in?” Syrielle asks. “That’s great!”

Ina'thia shifts on her half of the bench, quirking a brow. "Traitor? ...Sunwhisper? Why does that sound so familiar..." 

Ruthar nods. "It was mostly a trivial affair, to be honest. One of the betrayers who orchestrated Suncrown near the end of the Guard's tenure."

Syrielle looks up. “Really? No trouble bringing her in?”

Ina'thia nearly chokes on a grape, "That's -not- a mostly trivial affair. I thought those fuckers were D E A D. They should be, after what they did!"

“Not that I doubt you, Rosi and Bey's abilities, but isn't she like... super strong?” Syrielle offers as a follow-up.

Ruthar nods. "Turns out, she is, in fact, dead. She's still in Everblaze's custody, I believe. He had intended to find answers to quite a few questions."

Syrielle nods to Ruthar's words, "Events are recent and it's not very talked about."

Ina'thia exhales sharply into her wine glass and takes a big gulp -- the rest of the contents, in fact. She's stewing about a great many things. "I hate everything about this. But it's out of my hands." 

“The important thing is that she's in custody,” offers Syrielle.

Ruthar looks to Ina'thia curiously. "They are in Thalassian custody, I could think of no better place." He nods to Syri. "I am certain there are many answers to come. Regardless, Li-Mei was part of the collecting party, no questions asked. A good omen about her trustworthiness, perhaps."

Ina'thia lets out a sigh as she consciously wills the tension from her body. "You're right. Maybe I'm being too hard on her. I don't have a whole lot of room to talk." 

“Only you can decide who is best suited for your venture, of course,” Ruthar states plainly. “I only offer that I do believe she can be trusted, despite her momentary slip. She is certainly under the Magister's ever-watchful eye, at the very least.”

Syrielle takes another drink of wine, "She ever let anything slip when she was in the Guard?"

Ina'thia makes a funny face at the mention of the Magister's ever-watchful eye. She decides to take another wedge of cheese. "Not that I'm aware of. I'll... keep it under advisement." 

Ruthar looks over to Syrielle. "And you, Lady Starfrost? Are you also involved in this rune-venture?"

Syrielle shakes her head, picking out a piece of cheese, "Unfortunately not. Since I usually end up with Bey's work when he gets busy with other business. I can probably pitch in and help from time to time, but I don't think it's something I could fully commit to. It does sound interesting, though.”

Ina'thia offers a smile at Syrie, "I'd welcome any help you'd be able to give us. Same for you, Ruthar. I know the project seems far fetched -- impossible, even -- but the Phoenix Guard was successful against far greater odds and dangers." 

Syrielle smiles at Ina, "Definitely call if you need anything. I can usually pop in pretty quickly, as you saw." Syrielle mumbles as she goes to take a sip of wine, "I thought it was a booty call."

Ina'thia nearly chokes on her own spit.

Ruthar polishes off his second glass, clicking it down upon the table. "I swore an oath to the Guard, an oath that cost me dearly on more than one occasion. If you need my help, you need only..." his voice trails off for a moment as he glances between the pair. "I...I, ah. Well, I can certainly leave you to it..."

“Nah, I like being on Bey's good side,” Syrielle replies.

Ina'thia rests her hands on the table as she finishes sputtering. "...and I don't need to have -another- fight with Gattius." 

“Has he apologized to you yet? I told him he needs to apologize.” Syrielle pours herself another glass.

Ruthar shakes his head as other memories slip through his mind. "I commend your collective strength. I'm not sure I have many skills in this personal arena. The last ones...well, best to let those remain unreminded."

Ina'thia holds out her wine glass as Syrie pours herself more. "I don't think there will ever be apologies. But... it is what it is." 

Syrielle refills Ina's glass, her ears lowering some.

Ina'thia falls into silence as she nurses her wine. "Well, happier topics. The three of us are here, now, which hasn't happened in years! New projects... new things... it'll all be okay." 

Ruthar dusts off his tabard, standing from the table. "Sadly, I should retire back to the City before the night falls fully, as much as I'd love to watch the darkness kiss the shoreline once more." He sighs, looking out over the water as he shifts around. "It is truly good to see you both. New things, new projects - all indeed worth celebrating. A happy Ina'thia, too - a rare sight, indeed," he offers, turning around as he looks upon the pair with perhaps a hint of quashed underlying sadness. "But, a sight truly worth celebrating." He smiles at the pair. "As always, Sunwell guide. Send my best to both Sir Starfrost and Magister Everblaze."

Syrielle quickly gets up and walks over to Ruthar, pulling him into a hug, "It's always so good to see you, Ruthar."

Ruthar chuckles as he accepts the hug, holding tightly. "You as well, Syrie, should I still be permitted to call you that. A lovely surprise this evening, to be sure."

Ina'thia stands up as well. She doesn't rush in for a hug like Syrie does, but instead, stands awkwardly with her rigid postures and hands at her sides. "It was good to see you. And I hope to see you more. Remember... defying the impossible is what we used to do every day, and we did it well. Come help us build a runestone or four." 

Syrielle smiles. “You can always call me Syrie. In fact, I prefer it.” She reaches over and pulls Ina into the hug.

Ruthar smiles at that, accepting the hug that Syrie continues, holding his dear friends close for a prolonged moment. After pulling back, his fingers instinctively brush upon his marred eye scars.

"Some were better at defying said impossibilities than others, to be sure. Though, perhaps this old soul still has something to offer to this Runesworn." He flashes a small grin. "Just as with Li-Mei, I suppose I will take it under advisement."

Syrielle smiles, finally releasing the two, "We need to meet like this more often."

Ruthar smiles and nods. "Indeed! Ina'thia still owes me a dinner in Fairbreeze - certainly another chair wouldn't hurt."

Ina'thia allows a much wider smile to cross her lips, and she finds herself in the middle of this group hug somehow. For once, she doesn't freeze up or complain. Instead, she pulls her two friends in closer. "Dinner in Fairbreeze it is. With more wine!"

“Yay!” Syrielle cheers.

Ruthar smiles at that, offering one final squeeze before slipping away. "I have some special selections from my vintner to share, I very much look forward to that. But, Sunwell guide and all that for real this time." He begins to walk toward the pavilion before turning to offer one final smile to the pair before trekking back to the City.

“Sunwell Guide, Ruthar,” Syrelle replies with a smile.

Ina'thia gives Ruthar a little wave, "Sunwell guide, my friend. Rest well." 

Ruthar chuckles at that, always having wondered what it felt like to be sunwell guide-d. He takes another glimpse from his now helmet-adorned head before truly departing, his mind moving far faster than his feet.

He sighed as he slipped through the woodlands southward, returning to the walls of Silvermoon. He had truly received much more than he bargained for, for good or ill. Upon receiving a letter of invitation from In'athia for this evening, he had expected some basic updates about goings-on in regards to the Knights or movements in Quel'Thalas - standard points of their regular discussions. The focus on personal matters was not something he had anticipated.

There was never an opportunity, don't dwell on it, his mind whispered the reminder to himself as he walked along. The Knights and Magistry have always had a special sort of relationship - you chose your path long ago when you first lifted a bow.

He instinctively reached for Ana'dal upon his back, running his fingers along the ornate golden wood. No sense focusing on what could have been, he reminded himself.

Focus on what is.

--------------------

And now, finally, his relationship with Ina’thia was publicized. They’d been seeing one another in secret for so long, following some impulse decisions. His ploy to earn her trust and favor had gone exceptionally well once intimacy became a factor. Though, it didn’t start as anything intended to build on their relationship. Bey’ron knew that well enough, as he remembered the drunken night they simply skipped the play and ventured back to his city loft for a show all of their own...

“Fucking… dresses…” Ina’thia cursed under her breath as they left the restaurant.

Bey’ron walked with her out of the restaurant, nodding appreciatively to the staff as the two of them stepped outside into the cool night air. He sighed, contently, as he turned to Ina’thia.

“If you’d like, we can return to your home, and afford you time to change into something more comfortable for our walk?” He smirked. “Let’s get you out of that dress.”

“I’d rather not go to my home. It is a dusty, horrible mess after being gone for so long.” she side-eyed Bey’ron. “...Your place?”

“That… would be just fine.” he smiled, nodding. “I daresay you might actually like my home. It’s not far, either. A decent distance to get a walk in, certainly. But we’ll have plenty of the evening left after we arrive. Wine is stocked, shelves lined with books, comfortable divans… We’ll have a good time, I’m certain.”

“I am certain we will have a good time,” she repeated, walking contentedly alongside Bey’ron.

They were right - he recalled the night fondly, reminiscing on all the ‘good times’ they had… even if it was merely alcohol that had brought them about. But even so, the best part of the night for him came after; he had something to lord over her, now. A secret she’d desperately want kept from public knowledge. He leveraged it carefully and subtly, nosing into Phoenix Guard business here and there, confident she wouldn’t dismiss him so coldly anymore. In fact… it reached a point that she called on him for help. Lucky she did… or the Guard would have been disintegrated much sooner… and much more literally.

Inathia leaned back in her horse's saddle as she peered up at the sky... she felt the change in magic, and saw the void blast from where she was. Her lips curved into a sharp frown.

“...Were you able to retrieve them?” she asked. “Alive, I hope?”

Bey’ron nodded once, as his fel-wrought steed pulled up beside hers

"All but those damned traitors.” he replied. “I'm sure you understand my decision to leave them to their fates, hmm?"

“Let us hope it is their true end, this time. I…” Inathia trailed off, struggling to find the right words. “I owe you a great debt, Magister, for saving them.”

The Magister smirked beneath his hood, eyes straight ahead.

"Consider this one a free sample, Commander. A taste of what someone of my immense talent can do, were I a formally-inducted member of your Phoenix Guard..."

He turned to look the Knight-Lord over, sidelong. Grim as his words were, he did little to veil his smirk. He had her at his mercy, now.

“I shudder to think what fates may befall them if I'm excluded again... don't you?”

-------

“... Thank you.” Ina’thia muttered, as Bey’ron turned to depart.

“My absolute pleasure, Knight-Lord.” came his grinning reply.

“I know what you're trying to do.” she scolded, brow furrowing as her singular eye narrowed on the Magister. “Can you not put your politicking aside until the dust has settled?”

"Of course, of course... I should know better than to preen so, around you." Beyron exhaled sharply through his nose. “I am sincere when I say it - this one's free. You owe me nothing, Knight-Lord.”

Inathia flicked her cigarette to the ground and gave Bey'ron a pointed look.

"Nothing's free with you."

"... Relatively speaking, then.” Beyron smirked a bit wider.  “You don't owe me quite as much..."

Bey’ron shuddered, shaking off the memory as his eyes focused once more on the fireplace. He took a swig of his wine, thoughtfully. At the time… that was all it was about. Leverage. Then why, looking back at what he always considered the best part of their sordid affair, did it seem so abhorrent? He got what he wanted, after all. He’d never felt remorse for getting what he desired. The ends would justify his means, every time.

Except this time.

The only explanation he could think of was one he had denied so many times before; his feelings for Ina’thia had changed. Twisting her arm to get what he wanted out of her seemed wrong now, especially considering how close they’d become over the course of their secretive relationship. They’d shared a lot with one another. Secrets, fears, things no one else knew about them. He couldn’t deny what started as a power play had warped into, if nothing else, a friendship. A kinship, even. Or dare he say… a romance?

Ina’thia kissed his chest, and allowed her lips to linger over his scarred skin, “I’ve told you my greatest fear, but I didn’t tell you my greatest hope. I fear abandonment, but I always hope for love. I believe in it. For a long time, I doubted that, but… love doesn’t blind.”

Bey’ron’s face conveyed plainly his feelings - he was skeptical of Ina’thia’s words… at first. But he watched her, turning over his hands into hers as he watched her speak. Listened to the passion, the sincerity of her words. He stared; something about her telling him all this, explaining and edifying such a rudimentary and childish topic as love…

“... You truly believe that, don’t you?” he asked, captivated. “After all the pain it’s caused you? After being abandoned, rejecting it for your career… everything you’ve endured… the same things I’ve endured… and you found hope in love nonetheless?”

His eyes were fixated on hers, expression one of wonder and… confusion. How could it be? How could she have such a firm faith in love, after being so hurt by it?

“... How?”

“If I don’t believe in something, what purpose do I have as a knight? I love my nation… I love her forests, her rivers, valleys, her people, their struggles, their triumphs…I found it others again. I didn’t think it was possible, but it happened…”

Her nose pressed against his.

“You have been betrayed, a deeper betrayal than most experience… but if you truly want it, you will find it. Where you least expect it,” she chuckled lightly, and let her lips linger over his for a brief moment. “I know it sounds cheesy as hell, so don’t smirk at me.”

“You’re right about that; cheesy as hell.” Bey’ron grinned, rather than smirked. “If anyone else tried to tell me such things, I’d laugh them away. But you…”

“--No.”

Bey’ron shook his head, pushing the memory from his mind. He recognized the feelings brewing. Feelings he’d shelved long ago - and he intended for them to remain so. He took another swig of his wine, turning from the fireplace. A subtle hand gesture, and the fire was extinguished at his will, as he made his way upstairs to his bedchambers.

He couldn’t deny the friendship as easily as he dismissed his budding feelings. Admittedly, he respected Ina’thia quite a bit. She had a lot to offer him, by way of wisdom, insight, experience… but that was all secondary to his goals.

Everything was.

No, this wasn’t romance. This was business. Politics. Their relationship was publicized for both their benefits now, in this transitional phase. A powerful Magister and a well-respected Knight-Lord made for a formidable pairing. There was no better political stake in times of war than a significant other on the front lines. And no one protected the political interests of a warfront than a partner back home petitioning for what was best for them. It was mutually beneficial, and that’s why they stepped out of the shadows of their clandestine trysts into the public stage.

He paused at the top of the stairs, looking left into the washroom. The tub in which he’d shared that intimate, vulnerable moment almost seemed to look back at him - and for a split second, he could’ve sworn he saw the silhouette of the Knight-Lord relaxing within it. The illusions of both seemed to challenge the notion that this was strictly political. Was that true, though? Was there something more to his relationship with Ina’thia?

Bey’ron sighed, swallowing down the last of his wine. Clearly… he was just tired, right? His fatigued mind was overthinking all this. Yes, that was it. He turned right, and stepped into his lavish bedroom to sleep off the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing his mind. Whatever this was, he planned to make the most of it.

~*~

“Sloppy, lad. That shield’s meant to take beatin’s like that wrathguard was givin’ yah. Not your chest.”

Alteris strolled up behind him, twirling his dagger between his fingers per usual. Gattius turned, shot him a look, and wiped the sweat and blood from his face. 

“Remind me again which one of us is dead, and which one’s managed to survive this long.” he returned, coldly.

Alteris was taken aback, nearly dropping his dagger. He let out a light gasp, eyes wide.

“--Well, fuck you too, lad!”

“I’m... I’m sorry, Alt.” Gattius sighed, shaking his head. “That was way out of line. I’m all stressed out and worried, is all. Didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“Worried about this mystery shooter, aye?” Alteris resumed his knife twirling as if nothing had happened.

“You know I am. That was intentional, not a stray. And wasn’t a Legion shooter, either. If that’s not reason to be worried, I don’t know what is.”

Gattius kept his guard up, surveying the area where just the night before, Syrielle was shot in the abdomen. Thankfully, the damage was minimal and he was able to treat her, extract the bullet, and mend her just like new again. But he was still gravely concerned - what if that bullet had hit something vital, like her heart, or her head? He was also very concerned by Rositsa’s analysis of the bullet itself...

Rositsa continued to stare at the bloody bullet and if glares could kill, well, the one she was giving that projectile quite likely would have sent most running in the other direction in a hurry. Finally prying her gaze away from the forsaken bullet she scowled and crinkled her nose, holding it up so that it could easily be seen. "So, this may come as a shock to you both."

Gattius looked at Rositsa. "--What is it, Li-Mei?"

Syrielle took a moment to sit up, and looked over to Rosi.

“However, this bullet didn't come from a weapon of the Legion. It's from a long-barrel sniper rifle. Goblin engineering. Pirates and outlaws favor it.” she explained.

“--What? Why would...” Gattius staggered over his words, shocked by the revelation. “How's that possible? You're saying it wasn't the Legion who shot her?”

“--wait, what?” Syrielle asked, also surprised.

“Not if we go off this bullet, no.” Rositsa explained.

“Well, I mean, that's the bullet. You saw me pull it out of her.” Gattius nodded.

“Well, yes, but the Legion doesn't use anything like it.”

"...friendly fire, maybe?” Syrielle suggested.

Gattius shrugged. "A stray shot? I guess it's possible..."

“Doubtful.” Rositsa interjected.

“Did you see anyone else out there besides us, Li-Mei?”

"No sir.”

“I didn't either...” Gattius frowned. “Long barrel... that means at great range, right? Way far out?”

“And a sniper, a well trained one normally doesn't miss their mark, so the possiblity of this being a stray bullet is slim to none.” Rositsa nodded. “ So yes, you're right.”

Gattius frowned. "... That's..."

"That was NOT friendly fire.” Rositsa declared. “She was targeted.”

The thought chilled Gattius to his core. Who would target Syrielle? Why? It didn’t make sense. He continued to scan the battlefield, looking specifically for a vantage point a sniper could’ve used to make that shot. They were rather close to Destiny Point - another cause for concern.

“Bah... I’m such an idiot. She followed me down here.” Gattius grumbled to himself. “If I wasn’t so petty and jealous...”

“Almost got her killed, aye.” Alteris agreed, nodding.

“--That’s not helping. You’re supposed to make me feel better about this.” Gattius frowned.

“Oh, am I, lad? I’m a projection of your feelings. If you felt better about this, I’d probably say somethin’ to cheer you up about it.” Alteris shrugged. “But you don’t.”

Gattius grumbled, shaking his head and kicking the dirt beneath his feet. What a fool he’d been! And it almost cost him dearly. He shook his head, and turned back to depart the scene... when something in the dirt caught his eye. He knelt down, and pulled it from the dust; a light sapphire gem pendant, glowing a soft blue and white, attached to a silver chain. It was Syrielle’s pendant - the one Caedius gave her. The one she threw off the cliff. The one he’d jumped down to retrieve, before Syrielle followed him, and...

“--Best leave that be, aye lad?” Alteris peered at the Blood Knight, brow askew.

Gattius didn’t reply. He closed his hand around the pendant, and tucked it away in his satchel. He stood, still wordless, and hurried his way back up to Destiny Point.

“--Lad, I...” 

Alteris fell silent, before fading away...

Ruthar makes his way into the office, the memories flooding back as he moves from the main meeting room into her office. "Perhaps a touch," he offers. He places the bottles and the glasses down on the desk, pushing a document out of the way. He lifts it up in his fingers, eyeing the red ink at the top. -Classified: Decommissioning Notice-

Ina'thia turns the decommissioning notice upside down, lest it sour her mood and make her become completely overzealous. "We spent a lot of time up here, didn't we? I remember planning our mission to Draenor and telling the others to get their affairs in order and make peace with the Light, or whatever they prayed to." 

Ruthar nods, allowing a pause to settle as he moves to uncork one of the bottles. "I remember it very clearly. When I was captured in Tanaan, it was one of the things that truly kept me alive. Remembering the faces of all of you who accepted the suicidal portal mission." He pours the liquid into the glasses.

"Feels simultaenously like a lifetime ago and only yesterday."

Ina'thia pulls her gaze away from the harbor to Ruthar as he pours the wine. The pop of a cork seems to calm her heightened frustrations. "I really did think we were all going to die. Part of me thought you were dead already, and we were only going to recover your body. Gruesome times. I'm glad none of it came to pass." 

Ruthar hoists the now-filled glasses and offers one to Ina'thia. He leans upon the edge of the desk, raising his up for a small toast. "Here's to being not as dead as we should be."

Ina'thia leans on the other edge of the desk and accepts the glass, eagerly toasting. "Here's to being too stubborn to die, no matter what is thrown in our paths." 

Ruthar clinks the glass and takes a long sip, the bite of the old wine both a comfort and a memory. He looks out to the sea, holding his glass. "There is so much to discuss, even some recent things that are worth mentioning. I don't quite know where to begin - so many questions spring to mind."

Ina'thia takes a long sip of the wine as well. It's everything in her power not to drink it all in one go, but instead, savor the flavor. Just as she intended to savor the company and the locale.  - 

Ina'thia turns to face Ruthar. "You know you can ask me anything, Ruthar. You're my best friend, and always have been. A brother, even. No secrets." 

Ruthar smiles against his glass as he takes another sip. "I know," he says softly, looking down into the wine itself. "And you have no idea how good that feels to hear," he offers, thinking of recent events. "I don't think I saw you at all since the decommissioning, then the next moment I hear you've departed entirely. So what's your story? You absolutely must have had a reason."

Ina'thia can't help herself; she takes that next long drink, and soon enough, the glass is empty. She holds it out for Ruthar to refill, because this story requires alcohol. And lots of it. "Well, it's a long one... I went directly back to Kul Tiras under the Horde's banner, in and around Stormsong Valley. Bloody battles. I retired from active duty not long after, and fooled myself into thinking I could do diplomacy and politics on a Magister's arm. Or was he on my arm? Hard to tell, really." 

Ruthar gingerly takes the empty glass from her digits and just passes her the bottle. He doesn't interrupt the tale.

Ina'thia takes the glass back, but doesn't drink just yet. "I lived in Magister Everblaze's manor for some time... and I thought the monotony was getting to me. I started hearing things, at first. Then I began seeing them. Just little shadows from the corner of my eye. Then I couldn't see or hear or dream of anything but -him- and -his- Empire. I was losing it, Ruthar. Fuck. I had to leave. What if I attacked him? Retired Knight-Lord murders esteemed Magister! Or worse, Syrie and Gatto or their kid?" 

 “I -had- to leave.”

Ruthar considers that for a moment. "Did you find the source of such thoughts and whispers?"

Ina'thia gives Ruthar an odd look over her wine glass, "...It was the old god N'zoth. Shortly after I left, spires and faceless ones started appearing everywhere." 

Ruthar blinks at that. "You...you're serious? I expected some sort of trick of the Magister, not the efforts of an Old God."

Ina'thia nods once, "Bey'ron is an absolutely insufferable asshole, but I know he would never do that to me. He was actually very kind to me while we were together. No... I was vulnerable, emotionally, after the Guard was decommissioned. Easy prey for an old god."

Ruthar looks at her with a truly concerned expression. "I'm sorry to hear that. I can only imagine how difficult those whispers were to silence. I heard so many stories from Kul Tiras, but I think you are the first I've spoken to with direct experience."

Ina'thia takes another long drink of wine, "It was a bloodbath, Ruthar. We've seen our share of combat with the Guard, but it was always for the good of Quel'Thalas or the world. We killed everyone. Farmers in their fields, their wives, their children. Even the cattle. No survivors. No resources. Burnt it all to the ground on the Warchief's order.”

Ruthar sighs, looking down into his wine. "I would have done anything for her," he admits. "She was my Ranger-General. I swore an oath that I held so firmly." He looks to her, his gaze supportive. "I would have done the very same."

Ina'thia watches Ruthar closely, "...She was -our- Ranger-General. Farstrider or not, we all loved and admired her. Either way... I left, and I went to Kun-Lai. It's a place that has brought me peace in tumultuous times past." 

Ruthar nods. "Of course. Our. Hard to tell who still sees it that way after everything." He finishes his glass and slowly pours another. "And how was the Summit? I haven't been to Pandaria since I had a nasty incident with the mantid so many years back."

Ina'thia looks out over the harbor. "Still steep and cold as fuck. I climbed on foot, fell face-down in the snow and was dragged the rest of the way on a sled pulled by grummles." 

Ruthar raises an eybrow at that. "And yet here you stand. I assume the mission was a success?"

Ina'thia looks down at her fingertips, "Had to recover from the frostbite and exposure, first. Stayed at the temple for a few months. I was in a bad way, Ruthar. Bad. I snapped out of it when the temple was attacked and I got punched in the face by another sin'dorei who was there. We fought back the faceless ones, and I chose to continue the fight. I've been everywhere hunting them. Tanaris. Silithus. Uldum. Un'goro. All of Kalimdor, and then some." 

Ruthar nods slowly, his eyebrows still raised. "I will fully admit that this was not the story I was expecting in the least. Amazing that you could face N'Zoth's agents directly and live to tell the tale. For how long did you fight the n'raqi?"

Ina'thia purses her lips thoughtfully, then takes another sip of wine. "...Years, I think. I lost time for parts of it. Don't you fucking repeat that, either, or I'll never get reinstated." 

Ruthar nods. "Duly noted," he says quickly. "So when did you return from it, then?"

Ina'thia rolls one shoulder, "...When I set foot back in Quel'Thalas. I took the longest route possible. Boats and zeppelins and mountain and forest trails. Gave myself every opportunity to turn around, and I kept walking. Figured I'd made it this far... it was really time to come home. Last week.”

Ruthar blinks, lowering his wineglass. "That is the kind of tale I would tell younglings at the Retreat. But here you are," he gestures to her form with his wineglass. "Alive to tell it yourself. I...don't know what to say." He lowers his glass, looking her

Ruthar over for signs of the experience. "Your return is that much more pleasing after hearing what you were up against."

Ina'thia seems to be in remarkably good health at a glance, all things considered. "Mm. And here I am, after I survived all of that, too afraid to talk to my exes. I'd rather take the years of solitude and fighting literal monsters." 

Ruthar manages a smirk at that. "You can go to the very end of the world and fight monsters of untold power, and yet you are still you." He takes a sip of wine. "Speaking of, I've had interactions with said exes it seems."

Ina'thia 's ears droop a little bit in absolute embarrassment. "For fuck's sake. I need more wine." With that, she knocked back the rest of her second glass.

Ruthar laughs at that fully, knocking back his own and taking the empty glasses. He begins to uncork the second bottle. "But, before -that-," he begins, pausing his uncorking of the wine. "I'm...sorry for all of that. Truly." He sighs. "But what I am sorry about most is not being there to help. I'm not sure what I would have done if I had heard you were truly lost, but I know that I did not do anything to mitigate any of that. You deserve better from your friends." He finishes uncorking the wine and pours a fresh pair of very full glasses.

Ina'thia finally looks at Ruthar directly, with the unmistakable intensity of the Blood Knight he's known for years and years. Emboldened by the wine, of course. "Stop it, Ruthar. Don't pity me and don't blame yourself. I didn't -want- to be found. Sometimes, we have to do things on our own. Get lost. Be shattered. Put back the pieces. When I was ready to be found, I came back. And you were the first to find me... and I'm forever grateful for that." 

Ruthar looks out across the sea once more. "It's not that I pity you, and I entirely agree - such a pilgrimage can be important for self-reflection and soul recrafting. It's more about what you said earlier, something that seems to be a common theme." He takes a quick sip as he conjures the direct quote. "Your vulnerability after the decommissioning. That's where I feel the most guilty. I should have been there in that aftermath - for you, for everyone." He shakes his head. "It may not have actually changed anything, but the guilt feels very real. I suppose I'm just trying to do my own soul-rebuilding.”

Ina'thia sips at her refilled glass of wine. She's quiet for a long while, listening to Ruthar as she thinks on his words. "...We all lost something precious that day. Some more than most. We both should have been there. For each other, for the others." 

“I ran away, thinking I wasn't wanted.”

Ruthar looks down into his glass and then far across the sea. "Wasn't wanted," he repeated quietly. "I suppose therein lies the issue then, hmm?" He sighs. "Nothing could be further from the truth, Ina'thia." He looks to her directly. "Nothing. I may not have been the best to show it, but you are wanted. You are cared about. You are loved." His eyes glisten slightly with the sun of Quel'Danas through the balcony. "And it really is so- damn- good to have you back."

Ina'thia watches Ruthar quietly. Her remaining eye seems to shimmer just a little bit, but the ever-stalwart Blood Knight is skilled at hiding all emotions other than her frustration, anger or exasperation. "The mind plays tricks on us, Ruthar, especially when under influence of something as terrible as an old god. I know in my heart of hearts that you're speaking the truth, and have only spoken truths. But the me of seven years ago still wouldn't have believed you. That's over, though... in the past." 

“I'm looking to the future.”

Ruthar nods, his fingers tapping against the wineglass. "And the only reason it is in the past is because you pushed onward. I truly hope you never forget that." He lifts his glass again with a gentle smile. "To the future, then."

Ina'thia reaches her glass over to touch it against Ruthar's, smirking a bit as they make a little 'clink!' noise. "What are -your- plans for the future?"

Ruthar chuckles. "I haven't given much thought to -my- future, to be perfectly honest. I can only assume that I will continue to serve the Kingdom in whatever capacity I am able." He takes a sip, seemingly more relaxed after releasing the weight from his chest. "I can, however, speak to the immediate future. There are some things in motion that are worth mentioning."

Ina'thia quirks a brow at Ruthar. "Things in motion? Go on..." 

Ruthar places his glass down, refilling it. He raises an inquisitive eyebrow to Ina'thia as he holds the bottle toward her glass.

Ina'thia finishes the rest of her wine, holding out her empty glass for another refill. A gentle dusting of red is starting to form over her cheeks. She would undoubtedly be sleeping in this office once again. "Seriously. What's going on?" 

Ruthar finishes filling the glasses and sets the wine bottle down. "Unexpectedly, quite a bit," he begins. "I had a meeting with Farstrider leadership in the Farstriders' Square not more than week ago at this point. As I began to depart to return to Valdrakken, I found myself face to face with Magister Everblaze. He had pressing information, it turns out."

Ina'thia does her best to not visibly flinch at the mention of Bey'ron. Now that she's three glasses of wine deep, it's harder to temper and hide her emotions. "Bey'ron -always- has pressing information, and it usually involves him climbing over someone else for-

Ina'thia - power." She rolls her eye, ever annoyed by the politics of Magisters.

Ruthar nods. "I would assume the same, naturally. But this was different." Ruthar sighs, looking down into the wine as his expression turns downward. "It seems that Li-Mei is a deserter in a very real sense."

Ina'thia 's other brow raises to match her inquisitive look, shifting it to genuine surprise. "...Truly? I never would have expected... she was always so loyal. Like a weird little hatchling, at times, but still loyal." 

Ruthar nods. "Truly. Admitted by her own mouth, as it turns out." He shakes his head. "Her tale is not dissimilar to your own, to be quite honest. After the decommissioning, it appears that she was a bit lost and became disenfranchised with leadership. She departed without a trace after the Fourth War. We thought her dead and updated her record accordingly, but that seems to have been in error. She reached out to Bey'ron for help returning to Quel'Thalas. He obliged, for a price."

Ina'thia furrows her brow, "Well... I had the sense to retire from active duty, at least. I was never marked AWOL." Still, she frowns. "What is Bey'ron having her do to earn her place back here?" 

Ruthar shrugs. "Something about 16 years of service or what have you. Honestly, I'm not even sure what entails." He takes another sip. "Regardless, Magistrix Starfrost is involved as well. It was really great to see her, despite the circumstances. She will be doing a magical investigation into Li-Mei's whereabouts. That particular data will help the Farstriders determine what her next moves are."

Ina'thia can't help but smile over her glass of wine, "Shit, Syrie's a full Magistrix now? I'm happy for her..." her thoughts then trail back to Li-Mei, and she sighs again. "Probably ironing his dresses and other mundane nonsense. Still, though... I hadn't thought of what would become of everyone else after the Guard was decommissioned. I'm saddened to hear that Li-Mei struggled so much."

Ruthar nods. "It weighs heavily," he admits, taking another sip. "I promoted her myself, even trained her a bit. She was...is quite talented. I don't know how this will shake out, but here we are."

Ina'thia sets her glass of wine down on the table, atop the turned over decommissioning notice. "Give her a proper hearing, let her serve consequences and earn her place back. Just as I have to earn mine. Part of picking up our shattered pieces is facing the consequences, isn't it?" 

Ruthar nods. "Indeed it is. Sadly, this one isn't up to me. Due to our professional history, I would need to recuse myself from any such proceedings. Nothing to do at this point but to wait, really."

“The silver lining here, however, is that I got the chance to reconnect with both Starfrosts.”

Ina'thia also can't help but cringe at the mention of the Starfrosts. "And both of those things are why we have wine, Ruthar. Lots and lots of wine." 

Ruthar smirks. "You know I have it in spades. But, do tell. From how he speaks of you, it seems like there is a story."

Ina'thia 's lip curls at the idea of telling that particular story. "It was stupid, embarrassing, and wildly inappropriate bullshit that happened after the Guard was decommissioned. Gattius was jealous and I was angry. I don't know if we'll ever be able to speak to each other civilly ever again." 

“It seems that you both harbor a similar sentiment, then,” Ruthar offers.

In’athia offers a sigh. “Yeah... I imagine we probably do. It's fucked up, Ruthar. -I- fucked up. And him being mad at me is a consequence. I've endured worse. I'll live.”

Ruthar looks at her for a moment, but doesn't press the subject. "Syrie, on the other hand, sends her best. I told them both that I was following a lead to find you, so she asked me to relay her regards should I be successful."

Ina'thia smiles warmly at that, but it's a small sort of smile. "Thanks for covering for me. I don't know if I could handle seeing her anytime soon, either. She's got a kid now, it's all weird. I'm bad at this, okay? Give me a sword and an entire legion of enemies to fight, and I'll be fine." 

Ruthar scoffs. "Perhaps you are bad at it, but at least you make an effort for better or worse, speaks to a strength I falter with." He takes a sip. "That said, one final piece of new information. After Syrie and Gattius departed last evening, I happened upon Raynell A'laria in the woods of all people."

“The cosmos work in mysterious ways, really.”

Ina'thia 's mouth actually hangs open at that, "A'laria? Truly? Holy shit... everyone's coming back. All at once. The cosmos is right. Next thing you know, we'll see Calthos and Hylaudius and the world will have truly ended." 

Ruthar laughs out loud at that. "Now that would be...something," he says tactfully. “I didn't get much time with A'laria, sadly, but yes - she is returned. I do look forward to speaking with her further. By the look of her, there is quite a story to be had.”

“If they were to truly appear,” Ina’thia replies, “I think I'd die on the spot. Die dead. Cease to exist. Now, A'laria... hers is a story I would like to hear.

Ruthar chuckles as he finishes another glass. "Indeed. Though, I suspect you will hear it before I do. She was sporting the Blood Knight colours, afterall."

Ina'thia actually smiles at that, "...Good. I'm glad she still wears them. Hopefully I'm reinstated soon and can speak with her more easily." 

Ruthar nods. "If I can be of any assistance with all that, do let me know. Speaking of," he says as he picks up the now-empty bottles. "Where are you staying?"

Ina'thia puzzles out Ruthar's question, to which the answer seemed quite obvious. "...Tonight? Here. I can't be fucked to travel anywhere else right now. Tomorrow, I'll be laying in the years of dust in my apartment in the city." 

Ruthar looks around the dusty office, noting the distinct lack of comfort. "To Argus with that, you're not staying here." He gathers the bottles and takes the glasses. "Come on, I'll put you up in the inn across the way. They've got some nice beds."

Ina'thia had already started leaning on the table like she was going to curl up and sleep there. She groans loudly, but ultimately follows Ruthar. "Fine, if you insist... I guess it'd be nice to not be stiff in the morning..." 

Ruthar gathers the bottles and glassware and throws them in his pack before assisting the inebriated Ina'thia out of the former Guard headquarters. Fortunately, none of the Shattered Sun pay them any mind, most likely due to the tabard Ruthar still sports as they move toward the inn. After a quick discussion with Inaara, a nice room overlooking the Isle’s scenery is prepared for Ina’thia for some well-deserved rest.

Ruthar departed once Ina’thia was settled, returning to the former Phoenix Guard headquarters, his head beginning to throb in the wine’s aftermath. He climbed the stairs once more, making his way to the top of the building to look upon the meeting room where so much happened. As he walked around, faces and images danced through his mind, memories, both fond and painful, swirling around his head as he recalled his many companions within the Guard.

He moved over to the broken office door, the latch cracked by Ina’thia’s gusto. With the security of the office compromised, Ruthar rummaged for a dusty box to collect the paperwork left behind. He overturned the decommissioning notice with a sigh, placing it in the box first as he stared down upon it. So much had changed with one simple parchment.

After the contents of the office were collected, he scribbled a note that he left with Innkeeper Inaara for when Ina’thia rose the next morning.

Ina’thia, With the lock and latch of your former office broken, I gathered the Guard documents and will place them in a secure location for the time being, most likely with the other high-level Farstrider records in Silvermoon. Do let me know if you need them. I do find it difficult to put in words how great it is to see you returned, so I’ll leave it there. Looking forward to more enjoyable evenings. Thank you for the opportunity to speak freely - it is an unfortunate rarity of late. Rest well, you know where to find me. Ruthar

Ruthar thanked Inaara once more for her efforts and informed her of the broken door - he didn’t want anyone thinking that the office was ransacked. He left a sum of gold with her to ensure that it was taken care of, as well as a few pieces for her troubles. With a nod of appreciation, the Ranger Captain departed Quel’Danas to return to Silvermoon.

@inathia