World of Warcraft®

Cyaer knelt in the garden located just outside the kitchen where he had found the fresh red roses. He watched the dawning of the new day and hoped he would see the end of it with his lovely wife Kel'tira.

The Sin'dorei didn't try to understand the politics of the situation. He could not fathom the reasoning of Lord Firehawk other than the greed of wanting power. Pure and simple. And not just from House Sunblaze, but from the very same Fellowship his son had protected, lead, and had been a founding member. And the rogue shook his head, at the stupidity of it all.

A part of him wanted to fly away with Kel'tira to the furthest corner of Azeroth, and be away from this turmoil and conflict. But he knew better, running away did not accomplish anything, in the long or short run. So he told his wife he would stand by her side when they would come for House Sunblaze.

He had not been able to sleep, even with her warm inviting form laying beside him. He was taunted with dreams and nightmares of what could be, and it disturb him. He was not one to think in this frame of mind, however the two things he loved most in this world were being threatened, and he felt helpless.

The Rising Sun Fellowship, a handful of people had created a place for those with like minds and hearts could come and join together to help rebuild and strengthen the Sin'dorei nation. With a pure and noble basis of the four tenets that were the cornerstones of the Fellowship - Honor, Compassion, Valor, and Faith, he had taken them all into his heart, thought upon them, and lived them each day. And now someone wanted it for their own desires, for vengence of a son lost, for power.

And the most important person in his life, the one he loved more than he could express, his Kel'tira was threatened by this same House who wanted the Fellowship. For in threatening their House, they threatened his love too. She was weary from the meetings and decisions she had to attend and prepare the House. He could see the stress and tension in her eyes.

He pulled up the small box from the dirt and rock, and held it carefully in his hand. He looked upon it and felt its power. He would not allow it to fall into their hands. He had promised, and he kept his word, even if it meant...losing something he valued more than anything else in this world.

<Silently, the assassin reviewed the papers spread out before him. It wasn't really his job, handling paperwork. He had been trained in the art of assassination, going through vigorous training in every aspect of the field. From the good, to the bad. No, the fact was that he had to have his hands in everything. He had to know everything. It burned in him, the desire to understand and control a given situation. Why, he wasn't certain, but that morning, he felt as if his skin was on fire. Not something he would go out of his way to complain about to anyone, much less the priestess sitting in the room with him.

He turned his head slightly to view his new companion. Feminine, slender, she had gone through training as well, though far more recently. She sat with a sketch pad and was practicing some form of art. And, to his chagrin, he realized that she was drawing him. Approaching, he leaned over the hooded figure to study the restless man on the paper.

"Don't forget my scars," he commented flatly. "No one will ever be able to identify me otherwise."

The woman jerked slightly, her pencil dragging over the piece she had been working on. Shadowless couldn't help at grin as this woman, who simply went by Eve, shot him a dirty look.

"What's wrong?" he nearly shuddered with the desire to leave. Not to get away from the woman, but he felt nearly overwhelmed by his muse. On the outside, he was pleased to see that his control was good enough that she didn't outright seem to notice. That, or she was too busy looking at him with irritation.

"You're a bit paranoid, aren't you?" Eve spoke slowly, almost as if afraid to speak at all. He laughed at that, causing her to lean away from him.

"Paranoid keeps your flesh on your bones," he grabbed the sketch book and began to flip through it, despite Eve's protests. The priestess leapt and jumped about, trying to get it back as he ripped out every image she had created of him. And how many she had! Once he had them, he shoved the book back into her chest with a snarl. "Don't draw me. Ever again."

"Fine!" she snapped in response, holding her book close to herself. Taking care to not mix envelopes with the wrinkled pieces of art, Shadowless approached the fire blazing in the hearth and threw the carefully drawn pieces in. Eve uttered the most furious sound, and for a moment, Shadowless's vision blurred.

Suddenly, he felt a pain in his forehead, a tension all over his neck and shoulders as he instinctively fought her hold. Blood poured down his face from the open cut on his forehead. He realized, belatedly, that she had possessed his mind just long enough to slam his forehead into the brick fireplace. He roared furiously at her, but when he rounded on her, the female was already trembling. Still, he didn't hold back as he quickly closed the gap between himself and the priest.

"Listen, b*tch," his hand shot out to cover her mouth, to keep her silent. Her hands rose to grab his wrist, but he had no intentions of harming her. He simply needed to drill this into her mind, now. "If you ever do that again… I cannot promise your safety…" his body shook with the desire to lash out. Something trained into his mind. If he ever lost control of himself, he couldn't promise anyone's safety. The muse had grown silent, at least, drowned by his outrage.

"Ares?" came a soft, timid voice. Shadowless released the woman, donning a fake smile. Overly pleasant as he turned to meet their hostess. A young mage, untrained in the ways of the world, approached him. She wore a concerned frown as her eyes shifted between him and the woman. Eve said nothing, curling forward into herself as she trembled. Shadowless looked between the women before shrugging.

"We had a disagreement," he smiled. Suddenly, Risalyn closed the gap between them, and he braced himself for something. Anything. Except for when she grabbed at the collar of his tunic and began trying to clean the blood off of his face. For a moment, his expression hardened, and the woman flinched, but did not stop her actions, staining the sleeve of her own dress with his blood. Once finished, she blushed and slipped past him to go to Eve's side. The priestess would have nothing to do with her, however, simply turning away and saying nothing, quivering still.

"Just because you had a disagreement doesn't mean that you two should hurt each other," Risalyn frowned, only to sigh. She then went to the desk where Shadowless had taken the papers from and produced a small file. Gracefully, she turned and offered it to the assassin. "Besides, how else are you going to accomplish things if you don't protect each other?"

The assassin gave the mage a flat stare, wondering what idealistic world she believed she lived in. Certainly she wasn't so sheltered as to believe that neither he, nor Eve were put in danger because of each other's very existence? Despite this, he also knew that he had no knack for interrogations, and thus had been given the priestess, who was certainly apt enough at mental manipulation to cause the rogue to harm himself before he could even grasp the situation.

"Don't worry about it…" he found himself speaking in a softer tone than he had thought possible in that moment. Risa looked up at him, only to giggle at his words.

"I can't help at worry. You don't know how silly you look."

Silly? The man ran fingers through his hair, bound at the nape of his neck with a strip of leather, trying to figure his contractor's daughter out, and not for the first time. She made his head spin, though he couldn't say that he disliked it.

"No, not your hair," she smiled at him. A small, shy smile before she turned away. Her father, a tall, proud man, was walking into the room and she knew that she wasn't supposed to have any formal part of a Scryer hiring an assassin. It was too dangerous to be around a man like him.

His eyes chased after her a few moments longer than he would have liked to admit. Something which he couldn't hide. Not only was her father now staring at him, but Eve as well, as if she had shaken free of whatever fear he had held over her.

Shadowless opened his eyes and stared up at the sun. It was rising high overhead. He questioned his nostalgia in that moment. It probably boded ill for him. Something was bound to come up. Something was closing in on him. The paranoia of it made him scratch at his neck, as if to pull free a noose which was slowly closing around his neck. Where was his muse to guide him, now?

Suddenly, he knew why he had held such a dream. Such a small fragment in his life where he had known stability. Risalyn was with her lover, nestled deep in the Rising Sun Fellowship, an organization highly under threat. Not only that, but Eve would soon be reuniting with the girl if she continued to follow Tyrael. They were somewhere he could not be. Without even his muse or his tracker, without his lover or his interrogator, what was he but a lone killer?

And how many enemies had he made?

He grinned viciously in that moment before rising and dusting himself off. Time to make his way to the Ghostlands. He had to scout the area himself, had to make certain that all was safe and he had the best vantage possible for the meeting he was going to drop in on.

Hands brushed against his face, and he froze, for he felt it. So real, so true, so deep. For a fragment, the world seemed to spin, and before him stood a dream. His frame shook as he was left to stare, blankly, at the woman who had left him. And yet, a mere sense of longing filled him, a sadness. Emptiness.

He jerked free of that moment violently, forcing himself back into reality. His eyes shot around, wondering if someone was watching him. If he had been drugged. Someone must be messing with his mind, for he didn't daydream. He didn't fall to illusions, to hallucinations. His blades were in his hands before he knew it as he turned, slowly, and observed the woodlands. But, no one was there.

He was alone.>

Tyrael opened his eyes and grinned, she was passed out asleep. It was all too easy he thought to himself as he pulled her sketchbook over to him and started flipping through the pages. He found odd pictures and then he stumbled upon the section she had done of him. All his different emotions and stages, it was hard to look at. The undeath was easy to see, yet even in death he looked like himself. The familiar hard edge in his eyes and the set of his shoulders. He would always be who he had become in life, now it would simply carry on into undeath.

Perhaps Eve was right, his past was showing, yet not in the way she meant it, but rather in the sense that he was returning to this world. Was it what he wanted? Hell he couldn't even figure out what he wanted. But as he looked at all her drawings of him, lingering over the ones of him holding her, comforting her. He knew that at this point it was too early to try and figure it out. What he wanted was simple, to keep living. He had glory yet to attain and he would do so, he would reach his ultimate goals and enjoy the glory and honor he could achieve.

Yet now he had all of eternity to do it. He had talents and skills far superior to those he possessed in his previous life. What more could he want? He shook his head as he ran a finger over Eve's face as she lay curled up against him in the picture. He then stopped staring at the pictures, putting her sketchbook back as he gazed down at the sleeping priestess. What he wouldn't give to know exactly why she was here doing what she was doing. He looked at her and a smile grew on his face as he did, why was he always enjoying her sight, her presence? What about her made it so important that he keep her around?

All she did was get on his nerves, annoy him and in a way attack him. Yet for some reason he liked it. He enjoyed the banter, the jokes the back and forth asides yet for some reason he felt comfortable with her. He barely even knew her, and yet he wanted to know more, it was odd for him. Even in life he had spent little time trying to understand the world around him; understand the people around him for he saw the attachments as a weakness. He saw them as a problem, a side effect of his upbringing he knew but it didn't matter the whys.

Tyrael sighed as he leaned back into the tree, there would be no answer for him tonight. Yet he was strangely excited for what lay ahead of him. The date, that is what he would call it. He chuckled as he closed his eyes again to relax and think. It would be his first date he mused as he drifted off into distant thoughts and memories.

(1/3)

Tychus looked down at the pieces set on the map, oh it was all coming together quite nicely. Targus was now working with his contacts within Silvermoon. The Fellowship was on the run, Aserius set to keel over any day now. It was all going according to plan, except his other pawn, Tyrael, had escaped. Yet he knew the Death Knight would be of use. He simply had to wait, wait long enough for the darkness already within his soul to destroy what was left of his honorable and noble nature. Oh it would take time, but what was time to him? He had all the time he needed. The war would happen, it was already being slowed by his cohorts.

Garrosh's corruption was seeping further and further into him and hte rest of the Horde loyal to the Warchief. Varian was gathering his forces, calling his armies and navies together for a war. It was all coming along perfect as the wolves circled and all that was left was for the fighting to start. He watched as Kel'tira Sunblaze gave orders and he smiled as she assigned the monk, Ratheron a heavy role in the plot. "Oh how I will enjoy your fall dear child. How I will enjoy watching you fall into Darkness... For it will embrace you quite well..." The sorcerer crooned it was a favorite past time of his, breaking noble and heroic people and dragging them into the mud with him.

Tychus turned his gaze to watch Ashok, the warrior slowly recovering and he smiled as he noticed another with the warrior, "Ah how your heart always sings dear child! But alas like those previous you will lose them. It is inevitable." Tychus laughed and shook his head, "Send word to Targus and Selethen. Our plans move forward on schedule." Tychus said to an underling who bowed and scurried out of the room.

Tychus sat with his fingers steepled, "All things will come to the Darkness. All things will serve the Masters." He intoned as he watched, a dark smile crossing his face.

(2/3)

Ratheron smiled as he looked down at Shadow, he kissed the top of her head and drew out his pad and began to draw her sleeping. To him it was a beautiful picture yet he knew it would be one of few in the next few days or weeks. Hardships were coming, he could see them on the horizon as a dark storm front. It was coming and it was moving faster than he wanted it to. He sighed as he continued to draw, stray strands of her hair falling into her face and it made him smile, the image becoming even more beautiful as he drew it.

He knew what he had to do, he would have to contact some of the smugglers within the city and use them to get the resources to the destination Kel wanted them taken first. He would then have to coordinate Fellowship forces to move them to their new base. It would take many days even many weeks to accomplish the task but Ratheron was confident they could do it. He continued to draw his lover as his mind worked through each of the possible problems.

What was Aserius doing with mercenaries? Why hadn't he used Selethen yet? Why had Tyrael been resurrected? That last question was the one that hit the hardest for it posed the greatest variable. Was it Aserius? Or was it someone else? It seemed he would need to talk to Tyrael to get even more answers, and hopefully no more question, but at that Ratheron chuckled there was no such thing as a simple answer and he knew that talking to his nephew would raise more questions than answers.

But it did not bother the monk, he would get to the answers of it all in time. It simply had to be done in time, not now.

(3/3)

Sol walked out of the Hall of legends....another boring three hours wasted, all they talked about was Politics and War strategies.....Sol new damned well that none of their ideas would work...He gave his ideas and they were just thrown out as if they weren't important...like always...what was the point of being a General if none of is plans would be consisdered?

Sol went twards the barracks and then came the call...

"Sol?"
"Yes?"
"You and Auxi need to get out of Silvermoon....The fellowship is being hunted by firehawks.."
sol let out a drawn out sigh. "Well I haven't been to silvermoon in days....I've been in Orgimmar for Council meetings..And I haven't seen my wife In two days...."
there was a long pause...followed by conversations about Auxi...where she might be....what if the firehawks had gotten to her? Sol was upset.....and decided to go drinking....but...The voice lingerd in his head...."Sol love....Stop I wish you would stop drinking...its bad for your health."
So he decided other wise....

"Sol I need you to go to the Zepplins and pick up a package..adressed to Ms. Blazelit, Take it to Rath...make sure he does not open it yet...and tell him to lead you to me.. Im in Hiding."

So thats what It mostly came down to...

His wife was missing, Kel didn't trust him anymore...and He was most of all left out of the loop...at one point Kel and Sol were bestfriends...then what happened? Had they driffted apart? He didn't want to think about it too much...A part of him didn't want to handle it...No matter what He did no matter how many times he offered to help others..it would always back fire on him....His best freind became his Aqaintance, and his wife? Missing...Not to be seen or heard from in two days..

Sol made his way to the Zepplins and Picked up the package..it was a small little thing...a bit heavier than a normal Package.

On his way back to the barracks He was intercepted by two Blood Knights.

"Solorin Sunsorrow?"
"Yes?"
"You are under arrest!"
"Soldiers i am a General In the Horde Warmachine and your Superior Officer In the ranks of the Blood Knights, I demand that you stand down at once!"
"We take our orders from Aserius Firehawk, and you are underarrest now come with us!"
Sol shook His head and went willingly with the two men.

After they stepped past the front gates of orgrimmar Sol double tapped the family ring contacting Xal.

Before long They made it to razor hill,

"Gents do you mind if I get some water I am really thirsty.."
"You have 5 minutes Sunsorrow!"

Sol stepped into the tavern and contacted Xal again,
"Brother, where are you?"
"Step outside..."
Sol walked out side and looked up, seeing nothign he gave up hope, as they walked past the gate going further into Durotar, Both men sunk lifelessly to the floor, arrows in their backs.

Xal Untied Sol's bound hands and nodded at his brother, Sol said his thank yous and his goodbyes, and made his way back to Silvermoon...He had to find Rath.

Aranthil searched around from behind the large rock to make sure the coast was clear. The barren landscape. He signaled over to Nicias and they both kept moving. The desert like land scape reminded Aranthil of Hellfire peninsula, yet it was no where he knew of and was much much larger. Aranthil and Nicias had been wandering for months, trying to find out where they were. Thanks to Nicias' insane brother, Mal, who had used some sort of device to launch all three of them somewhere, they had no idea where they were. They both walked in silence, tired, hungry, and terribly thisty. It had been a day or two since they last came upon anything and the hell boar was barely edible.
They both froze as they heard something coming, something large. They hid behind a nearby rock and peeked out. They saw a large demon walking in the distance. Yet it wasn't the demon they stared at, but what it was going towards. It was a gateway. A portal.
"Do you think that maybe that portal leads to somewhere we may know? Perhaps hellfire?" Nicias asked in a weak tired voice.

"I know not, but where ever it leads, it sure as hell must be better than this light forsaken place. Come on! It looks like it may be closing!" Aranthil said as he got up and gripped his weapon. Nicias followed and they both ran towards the portal.
The demon entered the portal without even giving them a second glance. And as it did, the portal began to close slowly.
"Faster Nicias! Lest we be trapped in this hell even longer!" Aranthil said while running as fast as he could. Nicias reached the portal first, and without even a second thought as to what might be on the other side of the portal he jumped in, Aranthil followed him a few strides later.
Nicias Had always hated magical travel. It didn't feel right, and now was no different. His body felt weird and stretched. He felt like he was gonna throw up, and in an instant he was out, Aranthil falling to the floor next to him. They looked up and saw a dark room lit with candles. They heard panicked voices of goblins as they stood up and regained their senses.
They were in a dark room with candles and a demonic circle drawn on the floor. Goblins dressed in dark robes began to run out of the room, stumbling over eachother.
"Did we just get summoned by warlocks?!" Nicias asked in shock.
"Ha, I dont care how we got here, I am just glad we are alive!" Aranthil said in a rather happy mood. They looked at eachother and smiled. Nicias hugged Aranthil then, to Aran's surprise, and they both began laughing. It had been about 2 years there. 2 years stuck in hell. It was time to go back home.

Five days ago…

“You’re with the Rising Sun Fellowship, aren’t you?”

The woman with the brown hair looked at the bald orc. “You and your sources,” she muttered. “What about them?”

“Trouble… the kind that we don’t want you involved in.” He shifted slightly in his chair. “You, my dear, are about to be buried as about as deep as we can get you.”

“No! My husband will be worried sick and if there is trouble, I need to be there!”

“The Horde is your first priority. Remember our deal? You go behind the scenes with me and out of field. You can’t do that if the Firehawks have their way.”

“Firehawks?” She touched the scar at her throat with three fingers.

A memory surfaced, not one of her better ones. The memory of a knife sliding over her throat and nearly killing her. All because of a Firehawk: Tyrael, to be exact. He was supposed to be fighting the rogue with her that had been the plan going in but as soon as the fight started, he changed his mind and left her to fend on her own. Outmatch and outwitted by the more experienced assassin, she fell quickly.

“History, eh?” his keen gaze went to the scar across her throat. He remembered when she showed up with bandages wrapped around her neck. He would not rehash old memories. “You need to stay put and lay low. Leave finding your husband to us.”

Whoever said that 'Orc Intelligence' was an oxymoron, lied.

Tyrael walked down the familiar streets of Silvermoon, revelling in how much had changed in the city of his birth. The signs of war filled the area, Blood Knights travelling in groups, supplies being maneuvered to portals and prepared for transportation. The shouts of glee and hope that had once filled this great city were now silent as Tyrael stopped to listen. He stood in the middle of the boulevard of the Royal Exchange and he looked around. ‘It is different here,’ he thought mildly to himself as he checked his tux. It still fit well, the classic black pants and jacket offset by the white shirt he wore. Instead of the traditional bow-tie he went with a traditional width tie and vest, giving him a sleek look.

He got plenty of stares, it was odd to see a Death Knight so well dressed and not in their traditional dark colored armor, yet the look fit the young nobleman as if he had been born and bred to wear it, even in death. He grinned to himself, the left side of his mouth pulling up in a lopsided grin as he turned and walked down the steps into the Inn that Eve was staying in. He stepped into the dark interior and as his eyes adjusted he was immediately accosted by a barmaid. “Can I get you anything handsome?” She purred at him, taking in his look and the desire was obvious on her face. He laughed and it sent a shiver down his spine, though he was happy to see it put her even more on edge. “Scotch on the rocks please.” He said mildly as he gazed around the Inn, “And if you could find someone to alert the priestess Eveari that I am here I’d be thankful.” He said, his voice as charming as it could be considering the echoey chill that emanated from his throat.

Tyrael then moved towards the small bar and accepted his drink, setting down a few silver for payment and the drink as he waited, enjoying the taste. One thing that the human seemed to have done is given him all his feeling back, not just what was necessary, something Tyrael was quite thankful for; even if he would end up killing the man.

“I didn’t know that a Death Knight could enjoy his drink still,” Eve mused from the balcony above him. With the inns in Silvermoon favoring a more open concept between ground level and first floor, she was given plenty of space to gaze down at him, to observe the entire inn. Though, behind the silver-lined black mask she wore, it wasn’t obvious yet if she was amused or disturbed. Like her dress, small embery-colored patterns rose and fell in chaotic waves over the dark material. Slowly, she began her approach, unhindered by stairs as her outfit was revealed to him.

Her pale golden hair was drawn up, exposing and emphasizing a delicate neck. The piercings in her ears were far more flavorful, golden chains dangling shining rubies to match with her fiery theme. A gown, low cut to display her shoulders, back, and even a hint of her chest, all in the same matching chaos as her mask. It was carefully fit to her form, adjusted by the dark red threads set at the front of her dress, not unlike a corset. Formal black shoes, crafted of some fine leather, flashed from beneath the silver hem of her dark dress with each step, the smile that she offered the man once she had reached him formal, almost cold.

“My lord,” she curtsied before him, her head lowering as her eyes broke away from his face. Exactly what background and training she had would remain a mystery, but whatever was on her mind was even further from the surface, the woman wearing the regal air of an ice queen, despite the fiery attire she wore. Perhaps she was of noble breed herself.

Tyrael smiles, taking in all of her form and enjoying it immensely, his smile turning predatory, wolfish and then devilish; finally settling for looking like a debonair nobleman meeting his mistress for the night. “Well well you clean up rather nicely.” He said quietly, “The lady, I think, would like some nice Eversong Red the best you have please. As for the ‘my lord’ bits I am simply Tyrael to you Eve.” He said quietly, the smile still tugging at his face as he leaned on the bar casually. They had about thirty minutes till their reservations and they were in no rush to head over to the Court of the Sun yet. Besides his surprise was still en route and would need a bit more time to get here.

“I love the dress, fiery suits you, except when you are trying to kill me with a stare.” He murmured to her with a chuckle, taking a sip of his scotch again. “As to my drink, it seems the human resurrected me with all my senses intact. A blessing hidden in a curse.” The last bit he murmured into his glass as he took another small sip. Anyone experienced would notice that Tyrael barely ever took a full sized sip, he was skilled at the art, he made it look like he was drinking more than he was but was barely touching his drink. Always a step ahead of the competition as his father taught him.

((1/Many))

If his companion noticed, she gave no sign. Instead, quietly accepting the glass with a smile and polite nod to the barmaid. Holding the wine glass’s spine delicately, she turned her full attention to Tyrael, choosing to speak flatly and straightforward in her usual manner, rather than dance around in a duel of wits.

“I do not need to clean up to look nice,” she keeps her tone soft, yet harsh like a winter storm. Chilling, unforgiving, as if he had insulted her deeply. Yet, he knew how she reacted when she was truly upset, and that wasn’t the case here. “I am clean at all times...” her lips twitched with some amusement at his words. “It is nice to see that you’re finally starting to understand what a miracle you are...”

Lifting the glass to her lips, she took a sip, sampling the drink. Very little remains given away, though a small, almost sorrowful sigh escapes her as she looks away from him, around the inn. It was a good thing that she had dressed sooner rather than later. Still, she takes a step closer to him, a subtle move as she nearly seems to want to flaunt the small hint of perfume, a flowery fragrance.

“And. Your background is most definitely showing...” a hint of amusement finally crept into her voice.

Tyrael chuckles at her words and the fact she moved closer, inhaling and smelling the light fragrance of flowers around her. He let his grin widen as he too moved closer his lips resting near her ear as he whispered, “I know, I have to play the part well else all will be lost hm? Besides you can’t get mad at me for enjoying this.” He stepped back a bit, she would have had enough time to get the soft hint of cologne, just a light scent that seemed to combine with his natural odor and create an almost musky scent of a wood fire. While not the most appealing smell to some of the “fancier” types it was still far better than the scent of the dead, Tyrael was pleased with the concoction that had been created.

“Now Eve I’m no miracle, after all I’m a Death Knight. I simply have come to accept my lot in life as my uncles taught me a long time ago.” He said, raising his glass slightly in a toast to her before taking a small sip, “You can’t honestly tell me you aren’t enjoying yourself hm?” He asked curiously, how is it that such an elegant woman could hate this stuff? It baffled him.

“Tyrael,” his name rolled off of her tongue, her lips showing a full smile, now. A small, almost flirtatious expression, yet it didn’t reach the eyes peering at him from behind that mask. She drew a hand up, soft fingers touching his cheek, as if to caress his skin, to try to lure him in. Yet, it was a memory she gave, not a kiss that she stole.

Dancing, her form moved, flowing flawlessly. A masked man swept her across the floor, his movements practiced, predatory. A familiar red-headed man grinned, looking honorable, even noble, his scars only adding to his rugged appearance, not detracting from his form in the least. Eve and Shadowless, in this moment, moved in perfect unison. Yet her mind was elsewhere as he guided her, her movements far more mechanical, a memorized response as he moved her about the room.

Drunken, hazy minds answered her own thoughts. With a spin and a twirl, without contact, she stole information from anyone in the room she could reach. As long as they had their guard down, and oh how gatherings do such a thing to these men. Mental barriers lowering as they drank, flirted, distracted by their own ambitions. Eve caring nothing for anyone around her as she simply searched until she found the one key piece of information she needed. Usually within three dances. Shadowless hardly had to lift a finger, for information retrieval was all she was useful for as part of his group in such situations.

“This is business,” she spoke softly, as if to tear him away from that memory. It had all occurred in a flawless instant, and she seemed to know it. The power she had, though she didn’t disclose the drawbacks of what she was forced to do, what she had been trained to do. That was for another night. All she needed to demonstrate to him was not her prowess, but that this, too, was simply business to her. She had no intention of enjoying herself.

Tyrael sighs at her and shakes his head as the memory fades from his mind’s eye. “You know there are something’s a Death Knight might teach you. Death has a funny way of... Re-arranging one’s priorities.” He said with a grin and a wink, taking another small sip of his scotch as he gazed around the room. There were lovers and romantics, drunkards and innocents all around the Inn’s common areas and yet he envied each and every one of them. “Life is short and then you die my lady, you can’t simply go about it as if it were all business. Enjoyment, pleasure...” He trails off as he turns back to look at her, a longing in his eyes that broke this his carefully created mask.

((2/Many))

In that instant she could see that everything about the tuxedo and the face she saw, an act. It was something he had mastered at a young age, something trained and beaten into him so that one day he could be the master of his House and go even higher than that. “If you forget to enjoy the small things you lose them.” He murmured very quietly, it was at this point that an elven attendant showed up and Tyrael turned to smile at him, the facade back in place instantly. “Ah excellent! Our ride is here my dear, shall we?” He asked as he extended an arm to her, courteous even in death.

He set his glass down and paid for Eve’s wine as he waited to escort her out of the Inn and into the small carriage he had arranged to pick them up.

Wearing that smile, still, she set her hand upon his forearm, allowing him to lead her outside. Her mind turned at his words, however. Though he had shown her that vulnerability before, she wasn’t certain how to respond to it. Something in her feared it as much as she sought to cover it up for him. Perhaps it was instinct born from years of working with professional killers. A moment of weakness from anyone within the group meant that they would all die. Perfection was a requirement. To go above and beyond being mortal. She felt her skin crawl as she mentally chastised Shadowless for drilling that phrase into her mind.

“Perhaps... Perhaps we simply seek to protect that which we can still hold dear, despite how black our souls have been stained,” she murmured to him in a soft voice. Perhaps to anyone else, it would look like idle chatter, a woman reciting something tragic and poetic. But it was neither to Eve. Her facade forced her to speak eloquently when she had no words. Her free hand reached for a sketch book which wasn’t there, and she felt far more naked and vulnerable without that crutch than she would ever let on. The gesture alone might only begin to tell that tale, however as she softly laughed off her own words.

“There are a lot of things still outside of my reach, Tyrael,” she matched his strides perfectly, long legged steps complimenting his strides. An automatic thing, not unlike the dancing she had shown him that she could perform. “Maybe they’re still in your hands, you just haven’t realized it, yet.”

He smiles as he walks with her out of the inn and up the steps to the carriage, he opens the door and then helps her inside with his hand as he thinks over her words. He had noticed her action to grab at where she normally kept her sketchbook and he smiled at it, there was something more to this woman than she let on. Tyrael had always been able to judge people, at least on the surface to know whether they were honest or not. He might not be as talented as others of his family at reading people but he at least could tell if they face they showed was real or not and he could see Eve was hiding something, what it was drove him mad with curiosity.

He wanted to know, he wanted to peel the layers back on this woman and open up the floodgates and truly see her. Why he wanted to do that he was still trying to find out, “Ah never say never my dear. They will always be within reach you simply have to reach out and take it. Many think that, ‘Oh I can’t get it anymore,’ when that is simply an excuse for a fear they feel.” He said, the words were true yet he didn’t let on to the fact that he himself had felt that fear more times than he would like to admit.

Eve settled down before waiting to carry on that conversation, sitting upright, looking almost regal. Still, she listened to his words, and couldn’t help at let that small drop into a smaller, sadder expression as she gazed at him. A small part of her did want to confide in him in that moment. To tell him what her life had been like, why she was the way that she was. And yet, she remained silent, her mouth unwilling to cooperate. Silence had been drilled into her as deeply as enduring torture had been to their group’s assassin. Instead, she simply turned her head away to gaze out at Silvermoon as the carriage began to move. Observing the scenary, the elves living, trying to push forward with their lives in the best way that they knew how.

She wondered, then, how many of them looked towards their carriage, either outright or from the corner of their eye, and felt naught but resentment. Nobles could enjoy such luxuries. Many a mouth would go unfed while they dined as if they had been born for this role.

((3/Many))

Tyrael watched Eve, he could see there was something she wanted to say yet she stayed silent. He mentally sighed to himself, what else did he expect? He was a Death Knight and even worse he had struck out at her and her friend more than once. It would take time he thought for her to thaw out to him, yet he knew it went deeper than that. She was much more a glacier than a simply icy lake. It gave her depth, it made him want to crack up the glacier and get inside so that he could see it all and understand it right then and there. He smiled as he looked out as well, “Sometimes I asked and ask myself why I was given this life. This wealth and prestige while others were given nought but cold and empty stomachs. My father told me it was because I was destined for greatness, that the great always were given the best.” He paused then as he flicked his eyes to look at her, the change of subject something he thought they needed though still divulging about himself.

“He believed that the strong would survive, something I share with him yet I don’t discount those who do not have what I had. They were given less to work with but the rise to glory and honor is one even they can take. I had a friend, Varus, a Blood Knight who built himself up on his own sweat and blood. He lost everything when the Scourge came. Now he is a Blood Knight commander and wed to a lovely woman.” Tyrael paused as he laughed at the memories of Wyndsong and her husband. “Wealth, fame, prestige. They are merely benefits of having generations of smart parents and ancestors. Yet how does my father use ours?” Tyrael now sounds bitter, they had just passed a small contingent of Firehawk soldiers and as Tyrael watched they were interrogating a man about something, pushing him around.

It was obvious that Tyrael wanted to act but he could not, as he watched he saw the basket of food the man held knocked out of his hands and scattered on the ground. “He uses it to gain more. A fool chooses to take it by force. A smart man builds the strength of his people. Makes them stronger...” Tyrael trailed off as his gazed out towards where Firehawk Spire resided, the indistinct point of the Tower all that was visible as they sped through the city towards their destination.

It was obvious that Tyrael had a great abiding love for the Sin’dorei, that he wanted to see them grow stronger and reclaim what they lost. Yet what wasn’t so obvious was that at heart that care was because of how he was raised. He resented his father, hated him even, and as such he had vowed he would never use strength and force to bend someone to his needs. He would give them strength, show them the path of strength and form them into an iron fist that he could have at his side.

Eve’s own eyes set upon the men. For a moment, she leaned forward, betraying her intentions. The distance was far too great for her, however. She could do nothing, especially at their speed, and watched as life passed them by. How very like her life, she thought morbidly to herself, even as she returned her full attention to Tyrael and his tale. Still, she let a silence fall between them, once again. Silently at war with herself, her smile wiped from her lips as she gazed at him.

“I, too, know someone...” she spoke each word carefully. “But she had nothing. It was all taken from her. Everything she has become, to this very day, was set upon her back. All of the sins of life, the weight of killing, the despair... The last time I saw her, she laughed at nothing, very much like a child. And yet, more often than not, I would notice fragments of her past still rising. The sheer starvation and desperation just beneath the surface. I never pitied her. She always had a talent for tracking, hunting. Killing. She could strike a foe long before any of us knew it was there. Sometimes even be halfway to skinning and cooking it...”

An amused smile pulled at her lips as she thought of this particular woman. A strange creature. Only Shadowless would know how to find her again, if she still lived, for she had departed their company a while back without a word and without a trace. Not unnatural for their line of duty, for those who hid bet lived the longest.

“They say... that which you build with your own hands means the most...” she focused on Tyrael once again, drawing herself from those distant memories. “To know your limits, your strengths, and your weaknesses most intimately...” she merely shrugged her shoulders at that, as if she wouldn’t be one to know of such things. Her head began to ache painfully, and she silently prayed for more drink to come sooner rather than later this evening. She looked away from him quickly, least some part of her betray the debt already beginning to pile up.

“I know nothing of either world, and I’m extremely intimate with both sides,” she breathed the phrase tiredly, doubting that he would understand.

((4/Many))

Tyrael nods at her but he had a hard time understanding exactly what her last statement meant, “My uncle Ratheron once told me, ‘Tyrael, you must know when to fight and when to not fight. The difference between a smart man and a fool is the knowing when to be the fighter and when to be the philosopher.’ I always had a hard time understanding him until after the Scourge came. Long after he had left to go to Pandaria...” Tyrael trails off his mind in a faraway place as he pulls himself back to the present, their destination within sight, “Ah perfect, with time to spare!” He said quietly as the carriage pulled them up to the doors and they were greeted by two valets who opened the door and offered to help them out.

Tyrael pulled something out of his jacket and slipped it on his face, it was his mask and it was a good choice for him. It was a mixture of colors, red clashing with blue yet it flowed gracefully together to form the image of a rising phoenix as if the phoenix had yet to decide if it prefered the color red or blue for its fire. Tyrael smiled, hard to see now with the mask on, yet it pulled his face and the mask shifted slightly and it made the phoenix almost move as he stepped out of the carriage. “Lord Tyr it is a pleasure to see you again. Master Haelius is inside, he has reserved a table for you in the VIP section as well as prepared a bottle of our best stock of champagne.” The valet said as he bowed slightly to the man. Tyrael smiled at how useful the alias, ‘Tyr,’ was; it seemed he might have to take the guise more often now with the way current events were going. “Thank you.” Tyrael almost purred as he turned to offer Eve his hand, “My lady shall we begin our enjoyable night?” He asked quietly, his voice showing he knew she was doing this for business yet he was still trying to convince her to have at least a little bit of fun.

“It would be my pleasure, Tyr...”

Her coloring almost dark and brooding in contrast to the mask, the woman offered that cold smile once again as she set her hand within his, allowing herself to be guided into the restaurant. Such fancy things, such a gathering, she kept her mouth shut and felt the pressure easing in her head. Pointedly, she stopped trying to look at Tyr’s face, for even his mask caused sharp pains to begin stabbing just behind her eyes. But, at long last, relief. She let the atmosphere wash over her, a welcome distraction, though she did nothing to sample on the thoughts of those around her. Tongues moved, a soft murmur of voices drawn to her with absolutely no effort on her part. It was the closest thing she had to a sanctuary in that point in time, considering herself far from safe in Tyrael’s more than capable hands.

“Beautiful,” she murmured the word, praise almost too quiet for others to hear, and yet it was there. Almost as if she were impassive to it all. And, perhaps she was, yet the word needed to be uttered nonetheless. Drawing in the finest that the Sin’dorei had to offer, she didn’t let her thoughts stray to anywhere else but that moment. It was business to her, even if it wasn’t to him. And there was a reason for that formula. One which she might divulge after they had been shown to their seats.

Tyrael smiled as they entered the restaurant and club, the dancefloor off to their left where they could hear the sound of magical instruments as they produced harmonious chords of music to entice the guests to dance and drink. Tyrael let the atmosphere wash over him and he sunk into himself, into his element his guard still up. “Ah! My lord Tyr! Always a pleasure to serve one such as yourself! And my my, what a beautiful lady you have with you!” Haelius Sunfury cried, his voice rather feminine but that was all part of who the man was. He was a purveyor of the finer side of life.

He was the man to know if you wanted information or a secret getaway for you and a mistress, the man to talk to if you wanted to know what the other houses were doing and where their troops might or might not be stationed. It was the game he played and he was very good at it. He was wearing a flamboyant green suit, an open fronted button down showed off a smooth hairless chest that had no definitive muscles yet he looked fit. Tyrael smiled at the man warmly as he used his free hand to shake Haelius’ hand. “Ah Hael it is a pleasure as always to see you. Tell me, are you still playing with that boy from House Sunsworn?” Tyrael asked enthusiastically as if his very life depended upon the answer. Eve would know he was faking it and Hael let his smile grow wider as he laughed, “Oh Tyr you have been gone too long! I have missed your rather manly presence around this place, as have the ladies. I am always sad to see you never wanting to explore...” The owner winks at Tyrael and then motions for Eve and Tyrael to follow him up the stairs to their table, overlooking the dance floor.

(5/Many)

“Tonight is a special occasion several nobles from the Houses loyal to House Firehawk have joined us tonight! As has Aserius himself, he looks rather ill of late...” Hael trails off, he knew who Tyrael was and knew what he was here for. It had been part of the bargain Tyrael gave him some information that he could use and Hael would return the favor. Tyrael nodded at the news, not at all surprised. “Excellent! Now what do we have for dinner tonight?” He asked quietly, a grin spreading across his face.

“Well besides you enjoying the lovely lady,” Hael laughs quietly a wink at both Tyrael and Eve, “We have a lovely lovely Pandaren chef and brewmaster in tonight! So we have some exotic fare, a Viceclaw stew as well as a side of Yak for specials tonight. Both come with Pandaren herbs. If you are interested the special brew for tonight is Four Seasons, a rather lovely blend of tastes unique to each season: Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring, uniquely mixed together to form a lovely and delicious taste to die for!” Hael explained with passion, Tyrael smiled and looked to Eve to let her order first.

A soft chuckle escaped Eve. Forced or not, it seemed to almost break her icy exterior. If only for a moment, though she thought that information rather curious. Tyrael himself didn’t look as if he was about to run off and do anything stupid, though she couldn’t help at find a few more curiosities whispering in her mind. Focus. She continued to observe their surroundings, as if she had never been to this particular place before.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to trying the stew myself,” she mused, as if there was an option for her. She smiled politely back at Tyrael, allowing him the choice of drinks. “It all sounds so lovely...” she repeats a word that the man had uttered multiple times, driving the point home, in her mind at least. She then smiled politely back to Hael, not unlike a trophy for Tyr’s arm. A woman of few words, and perhaps a small wit to match. Nothing in her frame could even begin to suggest anything else, though she doubted that a man such as him would have his eye on other men’s women. Or women in general. Maintaining an almost delicate posture, she returns complete control of the conversation to her partner, though now she can’t help at wonder, no longer looking at the decorations or the sheer luxury such a place could afford, but for the ailing lord that had been mentioned. She knew the trick was to never let her eyes linger on the people, but to study their features while fixated on something impressive within the room. The woman almost seemed enthralled in that moment, though she kept careful track on what else might come up in conversation between the two men.

Tyrael laughs at her words and as he is about to speak Hael snaps his fingers and a very nice bottle of champagne arrives and he pops it, waiting a moment before pouring two glasses and setting them in front of Eve and Tyrael, “Compliments of the house my friend.” Hael said with a smile, he knew there was more to the woman than she was letting on. Tyrael wasn’t the type to hang around just any sort of beautiful woman and therefore he expected her to be something special, on top of the fact that she was to die for. He already saw several lords looking her way hungrily. “Hael I think we will get one stew and one side of lamb then we shall also have a nice pint of that brew.” Tyrael said with a grin at the owner, “For dessert I think we shall have that lovely fluffy cake you do, lots of cream please.” He adds with a light chuckle.

Hael laughs and places a hand on both of them, “My friends enjoy a fabulous night and your order will be with you shortly!” He said as he clapped and left, he had other clients to see and besides, he could tell these two needed some alone time, even if they didn’t know it themselves. Tyrael shook his head and smiled at Eve, “What do you think?” He asked quietly, knowing she had been doing what he had, sampling the room eying the people in it and taking a read on the lords that support his father.

(6/Many)

Tyrael had even looked at his father and could see he was dying, it was obvious in his posture and his eyes that he was dying. It was probably why the Firehawks were on the move, and why he was out tonight. He was brooding and looking to “let out” some of his anger. Tyrael sighed as he remembered many nights he had done so on his son.

Seating herself comfortably, Eve turned to offer Tyrael a very amused, very polite smile, though her words were far from the eloquent spiel she had been allowing to roll off of her tongue all evening, “I feel that if you were to auction me on the floor, you would be walking away with full pockets...” it made her uneasy, something she wouldn’t show Tyrael on a good day, and certainly not in that moment.

Tyrael laughed at her words, “Well luckily I want you all to myself so that won’t be happening. Besides if any grubby lord decides to try to take you I’ll cut them into pieces.” He said offhandedly, winking at her with some humor as he turned to regard the room. “So what do you think of the information Hael gave us?” He asked lightly as he strained to hear the gossip from other tables, listening in to the tidbits he got and hearing a few useful things but mostly drivel.

“It works to our advantage,” she didn’t specify which detail did, for they both did. The fact that his father was dying meant that there would be one less person to run charging in after Tyrael at the first sight of his being alive. And yet, it posed a problem. “I wonder, though. If he put that preservation magic on you, then maybe he would be far more desperate to see you...” and those who were desperate were the most easy to manipulate. She wore a pleasant smile as she spoke on such matters. The idea of him protecting her wasn’t something she let sink in.

Tyrael grinned at her words, enjoying this idle banter, “Ah but I don’t intend to use or manipulate my father. I want to know what he’s doing, what he has his allies doing and where the Fellowship might be. Information on where best I might strike and then we find the necromancer.” Tyrael murmured conversationally, making it look like they were enjoying a quiet joke between the two of them as he raised his champagne glass, “What shall we toast to my lady?” He asks formally, continuing to try to tease her into having at least somewhat of a good time.

“If your father knows where the Fellowship is, or any of its members in specific...” that would be good information to know, even if it meant that they might well be in danger. She lets a small smile twist her lips, though she knew that she couldn’t be of much help, other than another ear to listen to the gossip. The fortunate thing was that, being who and what she was, she was more than trained for this position. Who would glean the most from idle topics would have to be determined in a face off, however. She brought her glass up to toast him, that smile growing, if only by a fraction, yet it remained as cold as ever.

“To a wonderful night out,” she spoke just a bit louder, then, in case anyone was listening to them, as well. “With a very handsome man...” her words were soft as velvet, far from sounding rehearsed, as if she honestly meant it. Betraying nothing as their glasses touched, she simply drew it back to enjoy a sip of her drink while directing her attention to the Firehawks subtly.

(7/Many)

Tyrael grins at her toast and takes his own sip as he looks around the VIP area and then down into the common area. He watched as several couples moved out to the dance floor and began to dance, sensually for some and more formal for others. He laughed as he thought about the memory that Eve had given him of her dancing with her rogue. He turned to look at her and smiled, “I’m surprised you complimented me, normally you are so icey.” He winked at her, “An excellent evening with a beautiful woman.” He murmured quietly in toast to her as he drank a sip of his champagne as they waited for their appetizers and salads to arrive.

“Tell me Miss Eve, how did you come to join the company of such a fine assassin?” He asks offhandedly, as if it was common knowledge what Shadowless did for a living. Tyrael had grown up around their type, had learned to deal with them and use them and he even knew one, Selethen, who was probably the greatest assassin he knew. The master killer had a knack for doing the impossible.

“Well...” she looked down into her glass, a shy smile crossing her lips as if he had just said something she liked. “We were assigned to each other, really. It wasn’t either of our idea. He had been a loner for a long time. Why this is, I do not know to this day. He wasn’t accepting of me, and I did not accept him. But, out of necessity, we did not kill each other and found a way to make our talents work. He is the one who leads the unit, and I have come to respect him for that self-appointed position...” a smile crossed her lips, though something in her eyes was awakened. Distaste. She wasn’t a ‘follower’ type exactly.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle that things fell into place as they did. But, you soon learn that, around that man, everything falls into his favor. It’s...” she trailed off for a moment. “Frightening. He is the only man whose mind I will not look into... I did, once. I don’t even remember what I saw, but...” she looked away at that, only to shake her head. “I know that there are only two outcomes. And that depends on which version of Shadowless you meet. The one who will always win, or the one who only sometimes wins...”

She then smiled to him, enjoying another sip of her drink, feeling the pain returning to her head. Attempting to be natural, to remain natural, and to speak of such dark matters as if they discussed the fine drink they had been given while making it appear natural, she even managed to offer him a fairly warm smile, as if their conversation was putting her at ease.

“How did you come to know the Fellowship?” she returned the ball to his court.

He smiled at her words and took another sip, Shadowless sounded a lot like Selethen, except for the fact he had yet to see a side of Selethen that ever made him lose. It would be interested to watch Shadowless, perhaps he should tell the man of Selethen; what it might do to the rogue was unknown but it would be interesting to see if Shadowless could come out on top against such a master. “I heard of it from a woman, I met her while fighting in the Ghostlands against the remnants of the Scourge there and she was in trouble. I helped save her from a group of ghouls and she spoke to me about her Fellowship.” Tyrael chuckled at the memory.

"It was an interesting concept and I thought I would see how it went, I was on a journey for glory and so I felt it necessary to at least try it out, there was no harm in it. She wanted it to be about bonds of friendship and love; I laughed at her for if it was to survive in the cold harsh world it would need more than just that to survive...” He trailed off as he remembered what happened later, “She later died and the mantle of leadership fell to me... I built the Fellowship around four principles... Loyalty, Valor, Honor and Love...” Tyrael sighed as he shook his head, “The last was not mine but that of Kel’tira’s and a few others. They felt it was needed, I felt it would create weakness but I relented and gave in. When it was decided upon I took the task upon myself of appointing leaders, those capable of protecting the Fellowship. Masters of their craft they would hold it together against all things...” Tyrael trailed off and drew in on himself as he remembered these things, “It was a good thing I made it strong. It thrived and then I died.” He murmured quietly, it was a painful memory and he winced at it.

(8/Many)

She brought a hand forward to rest over his, something in her expression truly softening. The pain he had experienced was obvious, even behind his mask, she could almost feel it. Silently, she reprimanded herself for getting too close, but when she spoke, it was in a low, soft tone. It would still look as if all she was doing was flirting, yet she hoped that she was communicating something deeper to him.

“It survived because of you. To this day, it did, because of you. That is why Kel’tira wants you back...” she frowned, thinking about all that she had heard. All that was happening, all that she predicted might happen. But, predictions meant nothing if one didn’t have the mind to maneuver through such things. She didn’t. That was what made Shadowless the leader. His muse never failed him. Not when it mattered.

“What love is...” she mused for a moment over that. “It causes weakness, you are right...” her own gaze dropped to the dance floor below, towards those who laughed and enjoyed it. “But it also creates a bond stronger than sanity, moral, logic, reason, and vow... It is not without its place in this world.”

Tyrael looked at her and smiled, a true smile for the first time during their evening, “Yes between those two who feel it but it makes them weak to exploitation and it is a dangerous world we live in... Even if it is what we want most...” He murmured the last bit quietly his own gaze sliding away from her as he said it, unable to face what he was thinking while looking at her. He looked around and noticed that the Firehawk entourage had begun to move about, gossiping and several went to the dance floor and a few others to the bar. Tyrael shook his head and told himself to wait, patience was their friend here.

They would have plenty of time to delve into the gossip soon, after they ate. He regained control of himself and turned to look at Eve again, the lighting giving her a very good complexion and look, the patterns of the dress being altered slightly and making them all the more inviting. “You really are beautiful tonight.” He said quietly with a smile at her, it was a genuine statement and smile as if he felt they needed a bit of honesty in a night like this.

A smile met his compliment, though she returned to her icy cold state almost the same moment that the words left his lips. Now was not the time for a retort, though it formed in her mind. How wonderful that he thought her beautiful when she wore a mask, when she exposed herself to a world she despised, showing skin but none of herself. His words were horrible to her as she continued to watch the distant figures twirl, little wheels in a cog of a machine far too vast for them to begin to understand. Even if a noble sought to control each other, they were spinning events far out of their control more often than not.

“Thank you,” was the only return she could offer. She had noticed the Firehawks moving, but made no move to get up, to go after them. This waiting game was one she had played so many times over, she would have stopped Tyrael if he had even attempted to move. Dinner would be arriving soon.

“I do not always think it has to be that way, either,” she mused, returning to their former topic. “There are ways to make yourself impervious to that exploitation. None of them pleasant, of course...” she let her eyes return to his, still wearing that cold smile. “But necessary, in some cases. But, what would I know. None of us in our unit have ever managed to maintain a relationship. Apparently even Shadowless’s fiance, a sweet little doe-eyed girl, ran off and cheated on him...” she shrugged, as if it had been inevitable. And yet, she didn’t speak of her own experiences, instead falling back on her so-called leader for an example.

He sighed, he knew that face, it was one he had come to recognize over the course of the evening. It pained him to know that she didn’t accept his compliments, it bothered him to know she was shutting him out purposefully. ‘Give it time...’ He thought quietly to himself as he turned to see waiters arriving with their food. He smiled quietly as a salad was set to his left and the rack of Yak was set in front of him, the stew being placed in front of Eve with a salad on her left as well. He nodded at the waiters and then put his napkin in his lap and took some dressing out for the salad.

“Relationships are difficult, sometimes the people we want to hold closest aren’t the ones we are meant to hold. Sometimes we have to let them go for them to be happy.” He said quietly, it was hard to judge if he was simply being conversational or if he really thought that and was making a pointed reply to her.

(10/Many)

“Sometimes,” she replied with a smile. “And sometimes, we just have to accept the fact that some of us aren’t meant to hold anyone because all we do is hurt them. Luckily for you, I think you aren’t one of the latter,” she waited politely for use of the dressing before setting a napkin in her own lap as well. Once she was set, she began to enjoy her salad, silently thinking of another topic to get on. This one was growing unpleasant enough that she hardly tasted what was going into her mouth.

“Mmm...” she swallowed her bite, only to frown at the dishes. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. When we leave, I need for you to not panic. Alright?” she smiled and offered nothing more, attempting to sample her stew next. It was one of those things which was far easier to eat, and far more acceptable when on a date. Certainly, it wouldn’t be the handful that the ribs were. That, and it would be less of a pain on herself later on.

Tyrael laughed at her as she spoke, “I don’t think you are either and what might you have planned hm?” He asked, curious now to know what she was thinking. He looked at the meat with avid interest as he ate the salad. It was bland to him, sadly he never had enjoyed salads in life and in death it seemed to only magnify it. Setting the salad aside he began to cut off small strips of the meat, eating it slowly and enjoying the taste of the succulent meat. “The one thing Pandaren know how to do is cook.” He murmured with appreciation, as he said it the waiters returned with a pint of the Four Seasons drink, the aroma coming off the pitcher was intoxicating and Tyrael smiled, “As well as good drink.” He said, taking a few more bites before pouring himself a small cup of the brew and sipping at it, enjoying the way it burned and chilled his through on the way down.

“My my, this is something I might have to drink more often.” He murmured appreciatively, the taste was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, the chill of winter combined with the fire of summer and yet he could still taste hints of fall and spring. It was a glorious concoction.

“Seems to make that two things,” she mused, refusing to comment on what he had said. She was one of those people. He just had to learn that for himself. Keeping to her champagne for now, she found herself enjoying the stew. Truly, Tyrael was right on that count, but she didn’t eat much. Almost as soon as they had begun, she seemed to have lost interest in the food. “I also wouldn’t count them out of a good fight, myself. But, that is simply my experience.”

Her attention returned fully to her companion, and she couldn’t help at smile at him once again. He seemed to be coming around to his unlife well enough. But she hadn’t forgotten her promise to give him true life, if at all possible. And, she didn’t see why it wouldn’t be. With the corruption gone, she had no reason to worry that the strain of both would take his existence fully from this world. But first, they had to kill a certain sorcerer. At least, that’s what she thought, at first.

Then, another worry struck her, something she had been too busy to consider up until that point.

“We have a limited time frame,” she murmured softly. “Potentially, at least...”

“Related to my ability to return to the land of the living.” He said, it was a guess but a good one knowing what she might have been thinking about. There were only a few things that they had limited time on and it was probably the biggest one. He had expected that it might be such but what could he do? There wasn’t something out there that would magically make it come to them on how to give him his life back.

(11/Many)