World of Warcraft®

Rain pelted against the glass, although the mage hardly noticed it. Her attention was entirely focused on the long feather that sat lightly against the page of her book. Rich browns and golds ran through it, giving it a silky texture even to sight. Her fingers twitched involuntarily as she viciously repressed the urge to run her fingers across it. It had been the only clue left to her, and had proven as ephemeral as its original owner. Her fingers curled into her palms until her nails bit into the skin and her lips pressed into a thin white line. She had not spoken about it to anyone since her arrival here in Booty Bay. She would not speak of it- she shouldn’t even be allowing herself to think of it. Grief- heavy, familiar, oppressive- warred with a primal fury that she could barely control. Such a combination was dangerous in anyone, but perhaps even more so in someone skilled with the destructive power of fire.

Her breaths came in short, sharp bursts through her nose. Her nails bit harder into her palm as her fingers twitched again, aching at the remembered texture of the dozens of violently orange braids that had held the feather before. As though she were hearing it from a distance, a low moan registered in her ears long before she felt the sound tear itself loose from her chest and leave her vocal cords raw. She forced herself back to rigid control. Brae had searched as far as her resources could take her, and the only word she’d received was that he couldn’t be located and perhaps it was best to simply move on and let go. Her nostrils flared again, mind flitting over the images of their home, destroyed and in ruins. She’d taken it as a sign to retreat, because further down that road to madness lay only more heartbreak.

She gulped and slammed the book shut on the feather and everything it meant. She’d come here to hide, to rebuild yet again. He would have wanted that- for her to not wallow. To wallow was a sign of weakness and unworthy of either of them. Exiled though he had been, as she had been, in her own way- they both kept the ways of their upbringing, and the pride that had been drilled into them. It seemed to take forever to unclench her fists and relax her shoulders. Small drops of blood stained the linen she hastily wrapped the book in before shoving it into a drawer and out of her sight. Under her breath, eyes averted away from the drawer, a faint whisper slid through the room. The words had a melody all their own. The words were old and familiar- an Amani tribute to the dead.

Morning would arrive soon enough, and with it, all the translation work that entailed. These days, it kept them busy from dawn to dusk and beyond. Brae dragged herself into the bed, although she didn’t bother with the covers in the heat. Forgive me for giving up before I could even find out if I could give you a proper burial... The thoughts careened carelessly and against her will in the rain-soaked silence until darkness blessedly took them from her.

The heavy cloak was pulled tighter and the voluminous hood tugged down for what must have been the hundredth time. No longer needing to hide his features, for he had cleared the Grom’Gol Base camp some hours ago, the constant readjusting was due to the relentless rain and the necessity to make sure none of the infernal water leaked through. Even the raptor he had stolen was beginning to become irritated by his constant shifting and fussing. However, it was nowhere near his own aggravation and not even the foulest muttered curses helped lessen it. But he had to keep going. He couldn’t rest as long as there was even the slightest chance of finding her.

The thought elicited a sudden and vicious snarl; how he hated himself. If he hadn’t been so weak from saving a suicidal wretch he wouldn’t even have to be looking for her in the first place. He would be with her right now instead of riding on an overgrown lizard through a humid jungle in the middle of the night tormented by this incessant rain!

He couldn’t even teleport a distance that should have been no trouble at all. He was useless!

His mood darkening more and more with each passing moment, it was only a small relief when he finally reached Bambala.

“Hasanah!” he shouted into the quiet dark.

He was tired, hungry and angry and at this point didn’t care about subtlety. If the blasted troll wasn’t here then surely someone who recognized the name would be able to tell him where he could find her. Even if he had to shout them out of their beds.

“Hasanah!” he yelled louder.

If the Zulfi was ruffled at all by the shouting, she certainly gave no sign of it as she calmly finished her inscription and hung it to dry next to dozens of others. She snorted slightly. "Dunno what dat girl sees in 'im- he ain't got no manners, but least he be polite enough ta be on time. She shoulda picked a nice Darkspear boy." She shook her head slightly in faint wonder, pushing violently fuchsia and purple locks out of her eyes and tucking them behind one long, blue ear. The air rippled as though an unseen presence had been amused by the thought. "Oh, laugh all ya wants, you lot. I gots business to take care of."

She shuffled down the stairs toward the cooking area in the back to make sure everything was ready. She'd been expecting this visit since he'd stepped foot in Stranglethorn- the loa gossiped more than anyone and to anyone with the ability to listen. A quick murmur and gesture to the front door sent out the welcome committee while she settled in to wait.

Outside, a pair of small fire elementals tugged on his robes and gestured inward, and a slight breeze gave him a push in the same direction. It set the branches full of small bone-and-feather fetishes to clinking softly in the rain. There was no sign of habitation as of yet, but all he could do was continue in at the insistence of the elements. Inside, the hut was well-lit and comfortable. The smell of drying herbs and inks was familiar and meant to set visitors at ease. It was the scent of food, however, that kept pulling him toward the back of the hut. The table was set with a fair selection- from shellfish to the little tarts the shaman was known for, and some kind of juice from the local flora. She didn't seem to notice his arrival, still working on etching the lines for something on parchment.

"Well, dun jus' stand dere drippin' on mah floors. Hang dat cloak up ovah dere an' eat. Den we'll talks 'bout what ya came for." She glanced up with a brow slightly raised over one amber eye. The words were somewhere between invitation and command. "An' dun ya gives me none o' dat angry look. Ain't gonna do ya no goods. Ya been waitin' dis long- da time it takes fo' a meal dat ya clearly needs ain't gonna make no real diff'rence." Besides, her look seemed to say, was there anyone else he could stomach asking for the information who would have it?

Yoresh growled at her tone, but carefully removed the heavy cloak nonetheless, making sure that none of the water touched him. He couldn’t deny the small joy of being out of the rain, but it wasn’t enough to wipe the scowl from his face. And the fact that the food smelled so good made him even angrier. He couldn’t think about food right now.

He grabbed a handful of messy red hair, giving it a sharp tug; it was obvious it hadn’t been properly cared for in some time, let alone braided.

“No eat,” he said, making a negating gesture with his hand. “Tell I—me,” he quickly corrected with a frustrated growl, touching his chest. “Where she be. You know?”

What he really wanted to do was grab the troll and shake her until she told him what he needed to know, but something told him that wouldn’t be a good idea right now. At the very least she would thrown him back out into the rain.

There was, perhaps, a flicker of amusement behind her gaze. Still she gestured to the food. "Eat first, then we'll talk. Then ya gonna groom yaself as ta be presentable. I ain't sendin' ya aftah her lookin' like dat." She snorted in faint disapproval and etched another line, shaking her head. "She's done had enough shocks ta her system lately. Might as well make dis a pleasant one."

She waited patiently, despite his scowl. "Ain't no good t'ing come of turnin' down a Zulfi's hospitality, no mattah what dey tells ya up in dem woods. Rain ain't gonna be ovah fo' hours yet. I don' suppose ya gonna want ta go out in again so soon. 'sides- who else ya gonna ask, Saki? She's hard ta find dese days, and probably less liable ta help." The barb was subtly and gently placed- not as a goad to his anger, but to remind him he'd come to her, not the other way around. Whatever had gone on in his absence, clearly the mage's friends had circled the wagons pretty tightly around her.

Yoresh clenched his fists at the mention of Sakinah and they would have burst into flames had his magic not been so depleted he couldn’t even summon more than a tiny flame. As it was, his yellow eyes shimmered like embers and he began ranting in amani when he suddenly faltered and narrowed his eyes. Something more important had finally penetrated his thick skull.

“Brae,” he growled. “Shock?” He frustratedly yanked his hair again. “Explain!”

And to his credit, he finally knelt down instead of looming over her like an angry vulture.

Hasa shoved a plate full of food at him to stuff in his face. "Well, you fallin' off da face o' da world, fo' starters." She gave him the kind of uncomfortable look so many practitioners of voodoo had perfected- as though she could see right through him and everything about him all at once. "Ya don' t'ink dat's shock enough?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, returning to her work. "Den dere was Theramore, an' gettin' them kids up ta Pandaria and outta Hellscream's way, an' dem crazy mages..." Her lips twitched faintly. "No offense meant, mind, but mages jus' ain't right in da head."

"Hellscream," he snarled the name. "His people--," he slapped his hand against his chest then closed it as though he had just trapped something and held it out to her as though asking if she understood what he was trying to say. He opened his other hand and tried to summon fire, but again, all that came was a tiny flame. "No magic then," he growled with self hatred. "No magic still."

He distractedly took one of the tarts from the plate she had shoved at him, although when he looked at it he had half a mind to throw it against the wall. His stomach, however, rumbled it's protest and he finally took a bite, shoving the rest of it into his mouth and swallowing with a great gulp before he even knew what he was doing.

"Who mages do?" he asked then, confusing his words again.

She nodded at the first bit. "We had some hunches, but nothin' came of lookin'." She poured him some of the juice absent-mindedly. "As for the mages, the short story is that some elf decided to steal somethin' that Hellscream wanted from the Alliance. Right out from Darnassus, even. Some Sunreaver, I t'ink. Anyways, it set off dat time-bonb dat been tickin' between dem and da high elves fo'evah. Some got killed, some got captured, some people still haven't heard from."

Hasa smiled faintly and shook her head. "Dat girl always did have ta timin' of a half-broken steam tonk. Went ta take a book back, I guess, got caught up in da mess. She just wandered back, herself."

Yoresh choked on the juice and had to brace on one hand as he tried to talk while coughing out a lung. "Brae hurt?" he spluttered, his eyes tearing up as he forced the words out. "Was hurt?"

He barely managed to set the cup aside and thumped his chest as more coughing ensued.

"I kill dem! I tear dem apart!"

Hasa lifted an eyebrow slightly. "I dun t'ink ya could kill yaself, even if ya tried ri' now. She's fine. No bumps, no bruises, just spent some time locked up. " She wisely chose not to mention the broken hand suffered helping Saki get her kids to Pandaria. That was already a button she'd pushed too hard already.

"So ya see why ya should eat some an' groom. Mebbe rest a lil? She's fine and safe where she's at."

Sitting back on his knees, he sneered at the other troll, not wanting to admit she was right. His frustration was building with every moment he remained here and it made him yank his hair hard enough to tear a few strands. He stared at the hair in his hand a moment before slamming it down on the table with a snarl.

Then all at once his shoulders seemed to sag a little and he angrily took a piece of bread, tearing a mouthful from it as though it was to blame for everything that's been happening. He refused to look at her while he decimated it and grabbed some of the shellfish.

Hasa returned quietly to her work, only pausing to refill empty plates without comment. The evening continued to pass without comment. Things would settle out soon enough.

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Sleep had been brief and then entirely escaped the mage. She'd wandered from her small, rented room to the office. The rain dragged at her riotous curls, but she didn't seem to mind it much. In fact, Brae was rather enjoying the thorough soaking she was getting. It felt like she was washing a nightmare away. A quick spell or two dried her off before she decided to go digging through some of the older logs that pre-dated her arrival in the AAMS. Something, anything, to occupy her mind.

The rain was beginning to taper off and the sky turning to pearly pre-dawn gray when something caught her eye. Apparently they were still seeking the remainders of a set of old journals written by some kind of necromancer, as far as she could tell. There'd even been a possession in the destruction of the first of the set. Her lips pursed slightly and she tugged a curl. If it started at Caer Darrow, the only logical place to start would be there. Brae dashed off a quick note to Kezrin and Derscha before hurrying back to her room with the log book clutched close. She could be on her way within the hour.

After eating his fill and being shown where he could rest, Yoresh had focused his attention on tending to his hair. Anything to stop his mind from running around in circles and worrying about Brae. Hassanah had made it perfectly clear she wasn't going to tell him anything about her current location until he'd rested and made himself more presentable.

His hands worked with practiced swiftness, working one small braid after the other along both sides of his head. The thick braid in back took a little longer and when he was finished he automatically went back to the first on his right side, letting it slip through his fingers. He didn't mind the missing bits of bones and beads, but the loss of his feather was something else entirely.

It had been her gift to him during those very early days. Something he had cherished very much.

And now it was gone. He couldn't even remember when he had lost it. The thought of it being crushed under the boots of those bastards that had taken him captive filled him renewed hatred.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he laid back on the sleeping mat and stared up at the ceiling until the last days worth of fatigue caught up with him and he was dragged under into a fitful sleep.

Voices filtered up the stairs, three of them. One was distinctly Hasa, the male one her mate, Roska'jin, and the third...a melodic alto with crisp pronunciation and the long practice of giving orders. It was unmistakable.

"What do ya means ya *lost* her?" Hasa sounded more than mildly irritated.

"I thought she'd come to see you two! She'd promised she would, and how in the bloody hells was I supposed to know she was going to go haring off on some research project?" Saki snapped back. "Besides, I don't see why it's so important- it's not like anyone's looking for her but-" The words were stopped by a sharp hand motion from Hasa.

A dark brow lifted incredulously. "No. You can't tell me that-"

Roska interjected quietly. "Oh, she can, mon. She can."

"You mean to tell me that after all this bloody time he's just going to go waltzing in on..." Whatever the huntress said next was likely highly uncomplimentary and lost amid a new torrent of rain pounding on the roof. "I ought to just go up there and.." The words trailed off again, although there were distinct sounds of protest. There was more muffled argument before a sharp click of boot heels registered across the lower floor, marking the huntress's exit.

Hasa sighed heavily. "Well, den. Dis jus' got lots more complicated."

Yoresh was in that comfortable state between wakefulness and sleep and at first his muddled mind didn't recognize the words being spoken. Little by little more information filtered through as he shifted more towards wakefulness when he suddenly became fully alert and sat up, eyes wide.

He knew that voice! She was here. His lips curled back into a sneer. What was she doing here. Unless...

Brae... no!

No no no. They couldn't possible be saying... Yoresh pushed himself up and hurried down the stairs, ready to pin that wretched little elf to the wall. He rushed right past the two trolls and just barely caught himself on the door frame before barreling right out into the pouring rain. He scanned the outside but she was already gone and he slapped his hand against the frame with a snarl, turning on the other two.

"What was she doing here?!" he demanded in his native tongue.

While some would argue that Zandali was Zandali, most trolls could tell you that one dialect was as distinct as a foreign language from another. So all Yoresh earned from his question was a blank stare for a moment from the witch doctor before she guessed at what he might have been asking.

"She jus' wanted ta let me know it looks like Brae's work has taken her outta da office. I'm sure we'll be able ta figure where she went, though. Dey keep track o t'ings like dat. Usually. I t'ink." She cleared her throat slightly and gave him an assessing look. "I ain't got 'nough draughts ta knock ya back out, so ya might was well get some more food in ya and we'll go over when it's light."

Yoresh clenched his fists and advanced on the smaller troll, but instead of striking out he jabbed her in the shoulder with a sharp finger. "You spent-- waist time," he started in a low growl that became louder with each word. "Not tell me where she is. Say I eat first. Sleep. Do me hair! Now she gone an' you don' knowing where?!"

He grabbed both her shoulders tightly. "Now you want me eat more food when me should be out dere lookin' for her!" The last words came out in a shout and he glowered down at her, trying hard not to shake her like a toy.

He had finally pushed Hasa past her point of tolerance. It was one thing for him to glower and growl, another thing entirely to lay hands on someone trying to help him. Perhaps he needed a reminder that she wasn't just another annoyance.

Her palm landed flat square on his chest and cold crept up through his limbs and into his lungs, slowing even his heart as her expression darkened. Pressure built, a slow, subtle squeezing that drove the air from him. It remained steady, holding him still, but not harming him. The power she held back was obvious. "Dere's some t'ings we should get straight ri' now." She nearly growled the words. "I'd recommend ya takes ya hands offa me, now." It was an order he couldn't refuse. Hasa rarely resorted to some of the darker tricks of her trade, but they were useful enough when necessary. It was necessary now. "Brae has been perfectly capable o' takin' care o' herself wit'out ya glarin' at everyt'in' dat blinks at her. Ya'd best remember dat when ya sees her again. Girl knows she can takes care of herself, now. Ain't like it was. And ain't nobody willin' ta help ya but me. Ya sure ya wanna push dat line, exile? She already t'inks ya met Bwonsamedi- keeps it up and I can make it happen."

She stared him down, a faint darkness lurking in her eyes, hand still on his chest keeping him frozen. He had clearly pushed her well beyond what she was willing to tolerate and it was no idle threat.

Yoresh was unable to fight against her power as it invaded his body and he knew her threat was by no stretch of the imagination an idle one. The thrill of fear thrumming through him was only visible in his eyes as he was unable to move his own body. And try as he might, he couldn't hide it.

How foolish he felt then; how weak and utterly useless.