World of Warcraft®

It took a few minutes to adjust to all the sunlight and she had to blink at least a dozen times before she could see clearly. The air was heavy and rich with the tang of salt, tar, cooking breakfasts, and the unfamiliar but unmistakable fragrance of low tide. She tilted her head a little to familiarize herself with the bustle of Booty Bay, all accompanied by the persistent rhythm of water lapping at the pilings.

The rooms weren’t fancy- she couldn’t afford fancy. They were neat, tidy, and serviceable; which, besides the large window that allowed a goodly amount of natural light for her sewing, was all the mage required. She was peering out the window now, eyes wide. Brae would, perhaps, have been more comfortable back amongst the endless shelves of dusty, ancient tomes and even more archaic wisdom of writers long since dead in the libraries in Silvermoon but Ell and Saki had successfully persuaded her that it was time for a change. Ell had merely played on her natural curiosity and the huntress had played a far more difficult card to ignore. Her adoptive father would have been utterly disappointed if she’d chosen to remain locked up in the Sin’dorei capital.

She rubbed her arms a bit and reached to tug on the long, fingerless gloves she used when the weather was too warm for longer sleeves. In the end, she’d been forced to admit Saki had been right and had met with Miss Kezrin to interview to be a translator for the AAMS. It hardly made any sense at all to remain in Silvermoon if she could be closer to headquarters here.

She made absolutely sure the gloves covered any last hint of faint scars on her forearms before taking her basket and warding and locking her room behind her. She slipped down the stairs and made her way towards the tavern for breakfast, doing her best not to get run over by pedestrians on the way. It was almost refreshing, after so many years of tying her hair tightly back in buns that never stayed put, that the humidity here on the Southern Savage Coast was such that the only the she could do with her riotous dark red curls was throw a kerchief on to keep them from spilling into her face while the breeze tugged lightly at it.

She approached the door with some trepidation, remembering how utterly chaotic and noisy it had been. Hopefully it was too early for that, but she didn’t hold up much hope. Determined to make the best of things and live up to what her father would have wanted for her, Brae took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and stepped inside to find out how things worked around here.

Some idiot got it into his mind to swim out to Jaguero Isle with all the fixings for proper necromancy, and in a loud voice declare war upon all peace and love in the world. Ordinarily such persons are left to their dilusions and allowed to wander unmolested through the streets until good-natured pity transmuted into monetary gain in the form of hand outs and shaken heads and the occasional blessing from the priest that cannot help herself; this particular idiot had figured to tear open a blood-slick portal to who knows where and let the Twisting Nether itself pour out.

The perfect case for Inquisitor Leothindas Bloodwing to return to service after months of physical and mental recouperation. Something easy. Something quick and tidy.

Well, at least on paper.

Turns out the ranting lunatic was more prepared than any of the Dark Lady's Inquisitorial body could have prepared for, and what should have been a quick hiding escalated into a night-long bloodfest. Leo got himself a small vessel and, still aching and bitter from his earlier adventure, sailed to the island during high tide, thinking to move in swiftly and talk some sense into the dejected fellow. He drew the small craft single-handedly onto the jagged beach and limped his way to the Isle's center, where Mr Lunatic was busily attempting his best giant chicken impression to the steadfast indifference of onlooking palm trees.

Well, when the Inquisitor announced himself, Mr Lunatic smiled the smile of a snake, before screeching at the top of his stupid voice.

He had a spell prepared, a summoning that taxed his limits. He struck a pose, loosed it. It broke a hole in the fabric of everything. Sparks of ten thousand colors flew. Something huge and ugly and hungry started through, tearing the hole wider. Its snarls chilled the blood. It ripped itself out of the womb of elsewhere and flew for the Inquisitor, who uttered “HOLY F-” or something else unedifying and stumbled all over himself to draw steel.

It was a long, bitter night.

When the blood stopped flowing, the lunatic had scramboogied out of there, leaving Leothindas with only the wounds of the encounter and one very disbelievable Big Fish story.

With this failure sapping the final remainders of his will, Leo had stumbled his way into the closest haven, and settled himself in some dark corner to brood and change his banadages and try and sort out what to do next.

By morning, here he sat, slumped misshapenly over a long-cooled mug of tea. His armor, rent in places and bloodied in many others, rose and fell with the gentle breath of the restless sleeper, the spined jawplate to complete the set sitting obliviously on the wooden table before him. All his familiar hardware, swords and axes and knives aplenty, occupied the nearest seat.

The bruisers had let him be, recognizing the Inquisitor by his slicked, short blonde hair and perpetual scowl. Some brave maiden had even gone far enough to try and tug the ruined, crimson napkins out from underneath the Sin'dorei, who presently grumbled as a single thread of sunlight shafted in through the opening door and pierced one poison green eye.

It took less time for her eyes to adjust to the gloom inside than it had to adjust to the bright morning sun. Brae took another deep breath as the door closed behind her and she took stock. It looked much less busy this morning, which gave her even greater encouragement. Well, she was encouraged until she smelled it.

Her nose wrinkled slightly as she took another deep breath. She could nearly taste the slight metallic tang in the back of her throat. It wasn’t so much that there was an excess of blood everywhere, but noting it at all had become second nature a long, long time ago. The coppery scent wove its way through most of her earliest memories like threads in a gown. Her eyes searched for the source while she discarded theories in her head; old instincts that had been buried for nearly a full century began to rise to he fore.

Some crazy deep into the Hakkari mess, maybe? She discarded the thought- the Gurubashi weren’t exactly going to come waltzing into Booty Bay any time soon and most folks had the sense to stay out of it. Finally, her eyes settled on the half-slumped figure and the….armory that accompanied it. Her curiosity warred with the shyness that had become as much a hindrance as it was armor.

It wasn’t as though she could offer much assistance other than some clean cloth for bandages- she wasn’t a healer. She glanced over at the bruisers, who looked unconcerned with anything that wasn’t coming through the doors. She couldn’t expect any help from that quarter, then. She rummaged through the ever-present basket on her arm, tugging out some clean linen and wool squares as she made her tentative way over.

“A-are you al-all right?” She ventured quietly. “II d-d-don’t mean t-to int-intrude. B-but you s-seem to ha-have used up all your b-bandages and I’ve g-got s-s-some c-clean ones, he-here… Or at least cl-cloth, a-anyway.” The mage hoped for several outcomes from this offer. The first was that she wouldn’t meet the armory in person on principle. The second was that she would not be promptly dismissed as slow, stupid, or useless based on the stutter than had haunted her for years. It was irregular and had given her enough grief that it had been one of the primary reasons she’d retreated to translating books. At least her new employers hadn’t seemed to mind it too much. The last…well, she had no idea, but she continued to follow the gut feeling to just go with things as they came.

Threat assessment.

Everyone does it, he supposed as the dim tide of dreamless slumber ebbed and coherant thought swept in its wake. One way or another, everybody judges in the first few seconds whether an outside force can cause harm or misery. As Leo rubbed the dryness from his mouth and sat upright to plant his appraising stare on the basket-holding elf before him, he assessed her.

Not tall, not short. Built in the willowy grace of their kind. Scarlet hair, pulled into a kerchief. Age, unknown. Older than his fourty something, no doubt. There was experience in those eyes. Strain. Concern.

Genuine concern. That's a first.

The Inquisitor imagined he must look like a mess. The rest had done him well, though his joints ached from the struggle, and his leg was still unstable. Refractured probably. Probably should have just stayed in Winterspring.

“It looks worse than it is,” he stated eventually, forcing some culture into his smooth tone. Metal-clad fingertips plucked a hastily tied bandage, shearing it from his half-armored bicep. It was reckless to just come in and leak on the floor like he had, but the Inquisitor simply had to admit that he was in no shape for adventuring, not so soon.

“And you do not mean to intrude? Mm, how -dare- you, come over and offer to fix a stranger's mess...”

Leo's lips straightened into a thin line, the closest to a not-frown he'd managed in some time.

The warrior tore further linens from himself, unstrapping the armor that he had slept in. Pauldrons slouched from strong shoulders, pointed digits slipped free from heavy gauntlets. Cuts and bruises, a gash here, toothmarks there. Fortunately for decency's sake, his breastplate had absorbed most of the punishment to his chest and back; even so, Leothindas was not the type to climb atop the table and strip for attention.

In fact, he would usually have preffered to just grumble an apology and slither off into the morning, but the months of rest had left him lonesome. A random tavern in Booty Bay was not the place to recouperate, but the Inquisitor's work was not technically done; he would have to comb the Isle for some trace of his quarry.

“Poor way to meet someone. I'm Leo. Afraid I'm too clumsy to tie myself up. If you could spare some cloth, I will repay you.”

He ended lamely, letting the unspoken apology hang. Silver tongued charmer, this one.

She pushed a rebellious curl out of her eyes and fought, as he tugged on his armor, to repress the natural well of mirth that bubbled under her carefully cultivated librarian’s serenity. It wasn’t that she was incapable of being serious. She could be quite serious when she had to be. Still, her lips twitched upward and that good nature showed in her eyes, and the laugh lines around them.

She handed over the cloth squares and set her basket on one of the chairs opposite him. “M-my friend sa-said the s-same th-thing after a t-troll d-death knight tried t-to turn her in-into a ch-chew toy.” She gave him a quick once over and an irrepressible smile grew. “Y-you l-look b-better than sh-she did, th-though. A p-pleasure to me-meet you, Leo. I’m B-Brae.” Her mirth even ran as an undercurrent in her words, adding something like a lilt to it. “And n-no need to p-pay me for it. I t-tend to k-keep th-the scraps on h-hand for….e-emergencies.” He couldn’t quite tell if she were teasing him or referencing the aforementioned friend, but her smile deepened a bit more. Clearly she’d decided that if he was able to speak coherently, it couldn’t be terribly urgent.

A smiler. They were going to get on fantastically. The stutter? Just an identifying mark. It was no different to the warrior than if she had black hair, or happened to be male. It was not fascinating, or frightening, or a handicap. It was simply true, and nothing more.

“Chew toy sounds about accurate. But no, I made out well enough. I've got to return to the scene, though. Hopefully to find it deserted utterly. If not, well. I may have to relieve you of your emergency supply there.”

Giving away just enough to sate curiosity. Giving away just enough to excuse his condition and establish an alibi. Would there ever be a time when he could just -talk- to somebody again? Not 'Inquisit' at them? This girl, this woman, Brae. She deserved better than to be tugged along the usual threads. Sincerety deserved better.

Leothindas berated himself silently, though it never showed beneath his resumed pout. He grasped the fresh, warm cloth and proceeded to re-bandage himself, more careful and with far better expertise than the evening before, adding a clear, thick ointment of his own concoction to rid the air of his bloodstink. Instead, now he just smelled of sweat and trees. Musky.

It was a quick process. Following, he grunted up to his feet and made room for the woman upon the table's only adjacent seat, setting his myriad of weapons against the nearby wall. He gestured her for a moment of patience and limped to the proprieter, deftly passing him some silver for a 'nights stay in an exclusive suite', returning promptly with a tray full of sausage, cheese, and bread. Enough for two, a warrior's appetite included. This he set down with a 'help yourself!' gesture, collapsing in his demoralized and creaky chair and proceeding to follow his own advice.

“Well, what do you do, Brae? Besides share cloth with strange men. Are you staying in Booty Bay long? Where do you head today?”

Wait- Damn! Inquisiting again! Ease up on the questions, you fool.

She flushed a little at the polite gesture as she seated herself. Considering his contdition, it had hardly been necessary. She arranged her skirts a bit more comfortably while he was up and getting breakfast. While there were a few things Brae was quite adept at playing close to her vest, but her surprised and pleasure at being offered breakfast as a courtesy was not one of them.

She tugged a curl before smiling and ate a bit before answering, before her stomach swallowed them both. "I-if you want to b-be te-technical about it, it's M-Magistrix. Bu-but m-mostly I j-just translate bo-books for the other m-magisters." She popped a bit of cheese in her mouth with undisguised enjoyment. "A-although I've f-found my-myself recently emp-employed by the AAMS. So...I'll b-be in B-Booty Bay for the foreseeable future."

She was careful to avoid contact, even in such cramped quarters. The gloves concealed the scarring from sight, but not from touch. Brae tilted her head and studied him, smile still teasing the corners of her mouth, but not quite so girlishly grinning as earlier. "An-and y-yourself? I-I-I'd be happy t-to assist, if you n-need he-help on th-that island." The offer wasn't ventured with any real hope he'd take her up on it, but was just another of those things she just did instinctively without thinking- as she had with the cloth before.

Leothindas was cautious not to let his eyes flicker, keeping them planted firmly but not impolitely on her own. But you just never shake what's become natural, mechanical. Those were some pretty long gloves for jungle humidity. The fabric didn't seem to settle quite right. Another identifier.

Chewing thoughtfully on a bite of spicy sausage, he considered what she'd said both about the AAMS and the island. Leo looked away, thinking on it, swallowing and dabbing the corner of his lips with a napkin. How dainty.

"No. I'm certain you've heard this before, Magistrix, but it is too dangerous. There may be something foul at work, something -strong- foul and I've already done well enough a job feeding it myself."

Course he had slaughtered the Thing the night before, severed its limbs, set them to flame. But that didn't mean it was gone. With all his luck, it was probably just made even -more- horrible, eagerly awaiting round two. A more recovered Inquisitor would have been able to handle the Thing properly, that was the worst of it. He would have been just fine were it not for the leg. As he thought of it, the limb started to throb, lances of searing agony snaking around his kneecap and hammie. Leo shifted his leg with a muted grunt, frowning at the table.

One more thing Chachoregarde took.

"It wouldn't sit in my conscience well if you got hurt. And, best case scenario, there's nothing adventurous about limping about an empty, sand-ridden rock heap under a southern sun."

There was something in her expression that was both more amused and it looked almost like she'd taken that as a dare. "Oh, I-I've s-seen some pr-pretty in-interesting things in my t-time." She unconsciously rubbed her arm through the glove. "And th-then some."

She shook her head and tugged a curl, pulling back out of whatever path her mind had led her down and smiled faintly. "B-but th-the offer st-stands in g-general, an-anyway. And pl-plenty of e-emergency b-bandages." She popped a piece of bread in her mouth. "And j-just B-Brae, pl-please."

The warrior considered her a moment, working a bite of spiced meat into something remotely digestive. The standard frown tugged at his lips, before with a swallow Leo responded.

"Tell you what. Meet me here this evening, high tide. Ill see what I can scratch up and if its something you can assist with, we'll see. Might even have some work for you. Or probably just two handfuls of sand."

He was pouting again, determined. Mind miles away. She'd know the look. The distant, longing stare of someone too occupied with their goal to ever enjoy the present. Or even the gift of pleasant company. Which has always been the very worst of sins.

Leo stretched out his bum leg, energised by breakfast and rest. Babbling about his nonsense. Warm and full. He 'd smile if he still could.

Looking Brae directly in her eyes, after a few minutes of companionable silence during which more and more of the platters tarnished surface became revealed, the frowning elf began the miserable process of redressing his armor. A long process with aching joints and fresh wounds, but he did his very best to make conversation.

"Why a Magistrix, if I may be so intrusive? Not a fan of blood and sweat?"

Tease tease.

(( Edited for typos. Written with ps3 controller. l..l, ))

One brow ached slightly while she finished her own bite of bread and cheese. Her lips turned up slightly but the amusement rang a little false, her sidelong look a little more shuttered. It was clear that she was trying to judge his suggestion that she meet him that evening was serious or not. She was also weighing why in the world she felt liike it would be the right idea.

Brae decided to take the easier bait good-naturedly while her mind worked a thousand miles a minute in the background. She waggled her fingers at him with a faint smile. “N-not m-much of a ch-choice, really- nat-natural aptitude. I couldn’t st-stop p-playing with the f-fire in the he-hearth as a t-tot.” It was close enough to the truth and the line she’d fed everyone for years spilled forth quite naturally. It was likely the answer wouldn’t encourage more questions. “And it has th-the ad-added benefit of…w-well…” She eyed him in a way that spoke volumes. “D-don’t find many m-mages sl-slumped in p-puddles of their o-own bl-blood, do you? Li-little m-more elegant.” She teased right back.

She bit her lip and tugged a curl before expelling a quick breath. “H-high t-tide, then. H-here? I c-can d-do th-that.” It sounded like she wasn’t sure which of them she was trying to assure- him or herself. She caught the note, frowned at herself and straightened her shoulders in a way that would make any professor in Dalaran proud. “I-I’ll b-be here.” She spoke more firmly with a nod.

It was insightful for the Inquisitor, who all through his career advanced by having an eye for liars, cheats and the squirming guilty, to watch the shades of change pass over the woman. It was in the interest of making slight conversation that he had asked a more personal question, but it seemed one could not simply shut off the Inquisit function in the twisted channels of his demented and neurotic brain. Brae responded perfectly, of course. But a trained ear could hear the underlying hesitation, the practiced repetition of words stitched together and fabricated to ward away the curious.

Leothindas adjusted his boot and huffed back up to his feet, shifting his balance to his functioning limb. The Magistrix was pleasant and openly kind enough to deserve the grace of white lies. Hell, had SHE been the one to ask HIM about his histories, he'd probably tell her to sod off. He's the one who asks the questions around here. Has to be; his own answers were too horrid.

"You'd be amazed at the sheer variety of puddles I used to find Raoul slumped in."

Unsmiling, the Inquisitor dragged his jawplate from the table and latched it over his face. His voice came through with a metallic purr, amplified by some mechanical means.

"I will admit I could use help, especially if my quarry has vanished as completely as it seems. Without arcane assistance, I might spend the next week invading privacy and making enemies of good folk and still find nothing out. If I can scrape something tangible up, we might have ourselves a clue, and your abilities may just save me a pit lord's weight in frustration."

A metal sigh, and he started to adhere his 'armory' to his physical frame, soon covered in enough weapons to arm a small militia.

"...or I may have two handfuls of sand. You're naturally under no compulsion to help. If you've elsewhere to be, I promise not to come hunting you down."

That seemed to suffice for a 'thank you' and 'don't worry this won't be wierd'. Inquisitor Bloodwing nodded abruptly, murmured a 'thanks for the linens', and stalked out the door, a riot of metal clanking noisily about his armored form.

Telirra wandered out of the office and headed to the Inn. Her black hair was a mess, her mouth felt fuzzy and the feeling in her right hand was slowly coming back. She couldn’t remember what time she had gone to sleep, or even what the time was at this glorious moment. Her eyes blinked at the sudden light, and she bit back a groan. It was later than she had hoped, but when you are up until long after the party goblins have crashed you’re allowed to sleep in. She passed a rather angry looking warrior with a slight limp as she walked through the front door.
The rogue was far too tired to notice her coworker sitting on the room, but after she had some coffee and got breakfast she quickly noticed the new hire. Brae…something, a mage, stutter, wore long gloves in hot humid weather, redhead, Braedori! Telirra cautiously made her way through the room, noticing a few things all at once. Braedori seemed to be preoccupied with something, there was a second plate at her table, and there was something under the gloves. The courier wondered briefly if the warrior had been her breakfast companion. The redhead only looked up after Telirra had said her name a couple time.
“This seat taken?”

Brae tugged her bemused gaze back from the retreating warrior's path and smiled at....ah, Telirra, she thought the name was. She popped one of the last pieces of sausage in her mouth and grinned. "N-not anymore, n-no. P-please, make yo-yourself comfortable."

She nudged her basket out of the way with a foot and pushed the second plate back to make space for Telirra's own breakfast. Her lips twitched upward and a curl sprang back down over one of her eyes of its own volition. "L-looks like you h-had an in-interesting n-night." She sized up her new colleague with a practiced glance. Librarian she might be, and she might come off as shy or a little naive, but she wasn't all that unfamiliar with long nights and their aftermath.

The rogue returned what she hoped was a smile, she wasn’t good with smiling especially when she was this tired. She dropped her plate unceremoniously on the table and sat the try and jolt life back into her body. After she gulped down another half a cup of coffee she answered the question.

“Interesting is one way to put it, more like never-ending and dull.” Telirra snorted and took a bite of sausage before turning an observant eye on the mage. Her hair looked like it didn’t want to cooperate, the gloves kept giving her trouble it seemed. Telirra thought she saw something there but decided to leave it alone, breakfast first, investigation later. The rogue was still thinking about why she had been awake until fel knows what time. The order that they finally got all the items for was turning out to be a bigger pain than they anticipated. Not to mention the space one of the items took up.

“I was doing paperwork for an order that need to be delivered,” she took another large bite of food, chewed, and then continued her thought. “You might actually be able to help with that. If you want.” She looked at Braedori out of the corner of her eye, gauging her response, all while keeping an eye on the gloves.

The mage nodded with another of her customary smiles. "I w-would l-love to help. I-I have a p-pre....err, I h-have s-something t-to d-do later thi-this evening, b-but c-consider m-me av-available all d-day."

It wasn't as thought the gloves were special- they were even fingerless, although the calloused fingertips spoke of long hours with a needle. That was a fair enough explanation. Brae lifted a dark red brow, about to ask something but was interrupted by the sudden movement of her basket under the table. A white paw had emerged to bat at her skirts. She leaned down and murmured quietly in....troll, maybe, and tipped back one half of the lid so the white cub could stick her head out and take al ook around.

Brae shrugged with a faint smile at Telirra and gestured to the many-times patched hem of her skirt. "Th-that's S-Siame. I di-didn't f-feel ri-right leaving her som-someplace n-new al-alone wh-while she was sl-sleeping." The cub had turned her enormous blue gaze on the rogue. Wisely, Brae slipped her a piece of sausage before she made a nuisance of herself.

There was a living thing in a basket. Telirra had come to expect this sort of thing working with the AAMS, but it still amazed her. The elf had had a cat when she still lived in Silvermoon, she had no idea where the creature was now, she didn't like to dwell on the thought.

Telirra looked at the blue eyed creature with trepidation, there was a reason she avoided the 'live' deliveries as much as possible. Over the years she had forgotten what it was like to have something under your care that you provided for. Her Hawkstrider could take care of himself, it was more of a companion than an animal she cared for.

"Siame? Cute." She slowly put some more food in her mouth, completely loosing track of the previous conversation for a moment.

"Oh, I wouldn't need your help today," her mind had started to work again. "I would need help making the delivery later this week." Telirra studied to Braeadori, gauging her reaction to question. Telirra knew what Mages were capable of, her brother had been a Mage, she just wondered how this new one would feel about being 'used' as manual labor.

Brae gave her a slight grin and a shrug. "S-sure. Wh-whenever you n-need. Pa-part of the j-job. Just lle-let me know wh-when you n-need me."

The idea of physical work didn't seem to faze the mage. Judging by the callouses on her fingers, at some point she'd been used to a little more than just sewing and reading. She tossed the last bit of cheese in her mouth and chewed, still smiling slightly and taking the chance to do some quick observation of her own.

Telirra looked a bit paler than usual, lack of sleep and sunlight can do that to a girl. She was sure her hair was a mess and didn't even want to think about the ink stains on her fingers. There had been many a night where she had fallen asleep at her desk and a word had smudged on her cheek or forehead.

She assumed she had dark circles under her eyes and her normal pristine uniform was wrinkled and had an odd stain on the left shoulder. Probably from a delivery.

The rogue was impressed with Brae's acceptance of physical labor. She had noticed the callouses on the hands and fingers but was still impressed nonetheless.

"Right then, there is a rather large item. My brother had a spell to make things smaller. If you know something like that it would help." Telirra noticed the slight choke in her voice when she mentioned her brother. It had taken some time but she had gotten used to speaking of her family, after so many years of -not- talking about them it started to feel...nice.

Telirra looked a bit paler than usual, lack of sleep and sunlight can do that to a girl. She was sure her hair was a mess and didn't even want to think about the ink stains on her fingers. There had been many a night where she had fallen asleep at her desk and a word had smudged on her cheek or forehead.

She assumed she had dark circles under her eyes and her normal pristine uniform was wrinkled and had an odd stain on the left shoulder. Probably from a delivery.

The rogue was impressed with Brae's acceptance of physical labor. She had noticed the callouses on the hands and fingers but was still impressed nonetheless.

"Right then, there is a rather large item. My brother had a spell to make things smaller. If you know something like that it would help." Telirra noticed the slight choke in her voice when she mentioned her brother. It had taken some time but she had gotten used to speaking of her family, after so many years of -not- talking about them it started to feel...nice.