#variken

Variken fucking Evans. He of the loud mouth and even louder robes. Seriously, neon green ought to be outlawed, it doesn’t even look good on me so it damn sure doesn’t look good on someone with the same skin tone as milk. His eyes are green, too, and they kinda glow a little when he’s casting. Damned warlocks. If it just wasn’t for the robes, though, he actually would be sort of decent-looking. Long brown hair, good smile.

...Of course, then he opens his mouth and it all goes straight to hell. He’s just...so...ugh. Snarky and irreverent and he absolutely delights in being a pain in my ass. Unfortunately, he’s also really smart when it comes to arcane and fel magic, so I am forced to interact with him on a regular basis when I can’t bug Percy. At least he gives straight answers.

Oh, Variken Evans! Let’s see, it’s been a while...skinny guy, longish brown hair, green eyes? Regular green, not glowy, he’s just a human. Pale? Which just isn’t helped at all by his robes, I’m sorry. Nobody with that skin tone should be wearing neon, take it from someone who knows. (gestures at his own skin, which is decidedly on the ‘things found under rocks’ end of the scale) And those giant goggles! Is he an engineer or something? He’s pretty good-lookin’ aside from the fashion disaster, at least. Nice taste in ritual daggers and staffs.

Oh, she didn’t want to do this. She’d never wanted to do this, not really, no matter how insufferable Variken was. But here he was with the Burning Legion at his back and a cruel smile on his face, and she wanted to cry with impotent fury.

“It doesn’t have to be like this! Stop all–all the magic, the curses, everything–come back with me!”

He lifted one hand, an indolent gesture. “I think not.”

Baalbereth was gone.

Baalbereth was gone, and there’d only been a trace of fel energy left behind in the spot where she’d been tied up for the night—but that trace had been just enough for Reeta to follow it.

She’d been expecting a warlock to be responsible. What she hadn’t expected, though, was to be greeted just outside the portal drop-off in Dalaran by a human girl in a pale blue dress clutching a mug of hot cider, with Baalbereth stiff-legged and growling by her side. When she met the girl’s gaze, the human almost dropped her mug. “Eep. Um.”

She let ice swirl around her, frost glittering in the air as she approached. She couldn’t keep the growl from her voice. “That felstalker is mine.” And you’ll give her back or I’ll tear you limb from limb and drink the mana from your blood, little girl…okay, ew. No. That would be gross. But I might just freeze her to the floor.

To her surprise, the girl held eye contact steadily. “What’s its name, then?”

Braver than I thought. “Baalbereth.” The felstalker was already relaxing, and as Reeta reached out, she butted her huge skull into her palm. Reeta couldn’t help but smile at her, switching to Thalassian to murmur, “Yeah, you know me. Your baby’s nice and safe at home with Ann’da, don’t you worry.”

As Bereth crooned and nuzzled her, the human started to grin. “She is yours. Sorry, I didn’t wanna just let her go to just anyone; she’s clearly been trained really well. I have her armor in my room at the Legerdemain. I can—um. Tea? My treat, for the inconvenience.”

Huh. Reeta felt her ears relax, but took a moment to study the human critically. She’s clearly good at summoning, if she got Berry here so easily. Warlocks like her are usually arrogant dicks, but…she seems…nice. And clearly not interested in fighting, though I’m gonna pour my own tea just to be sure. “…Okay.”

The girl squinted at her before hesitantly offering her free hand. “Sorry, I just realized your voice is familiar—I’m Persicaria. Are you part of the Convocation too?”

The…oh. Fuck. Those stupid communication crystals. Good thing I didn’t have to fight her; that would be an unnecessary complication. Somewhat belatedly, she shook Persicaria’s hand and noted that the warlock had a remarkably firm handshake. “I am, for now. Reeta Sunflare, mage.”

Persicaria’s smile was shy, now. “I wish we’d met under better circumstances. Hang on, let me just…”

As she gestured, the sudden surge of fel magic was enough to make Reeta shiver and grit her teeth. What is she—

And then Bereth shook herself all over and leaned in to lick Reeta’s face, and she was giggling too hard to complain about warlocks and their pushy magic.

The tea was good, too. Even though the Legerdemain didn’t let demons in, that just meant they could sit on a bench outside where nobody would scold them for being too loud. For a human warlock, Reeta eventually decided, Percy wasn’t too bad. Like she had been, before the Fall.

She was definitely going to have the anti-summoning charm Percy offered her examined by the Den’s warlocks before she used it on Berry, though. And see if Variken could vouch for her.

“His absence improves the room.”

“Occasionally, he can be useful.”

“...Okay, for a warlock, he’s really not that bad.”

“His hair is...acceptable.”

Pa’una socks Variken in the arm probably harder than she intended.