World of Warcraft®

She grinned. "Ain't good business not ta apply it ta everyone outside them as actively threatens, yah? Ya'll be alright in here. An' at da offices. She says dey be real strict in dat neutral t'ing." Hasa waved airily at the bruisers on their way past, her walking stick making a quiet 'thud' against the wooden planking of the walkway.

Yoresh's nose scrunched up a moment when the scent of fish, seaweed and other smells assaulted him much stronger than he was used to. How did people stand it? It lessened just a tiny bit when they cleared the entrance tunnels and stepped out into open air again. The site of so much water made him absently tug on a braid and he turned his attention to the people going about their business. He couldn't help the slight tension from building up, his body getting ready to jump into action at a moments notice and he was especially aware of everyone who came a little too close.
It gave him an odd feeling, seeing so many different people mill about.

"Da office is over dat way." She gestured to one of the dilapidated buildings on the left. "She stays somewhere ovah dat way." Hasa gestured toward the tavern and the cluster of shacks. "We'll see if anyone's around in da office, an' den we goes ovah ta her place an' look around." Clearly, she had no qualms about poking her nose into this business by rooting around Brae's things.

Yoresh stared in the direction Hasa had indicated Brae was staying at, deaf to the rest of her words as accusations at himself screamed though his mind. It wasn't until his sharp nails cut into his palms, drawing little beads of blood that they quieted enough for him to think.

"Why she not just stay at guildhall," he asked, his voice oddly devoid of the anger he felt. "Or with you? Or that wretched Sakinah?"

Hasa started in the general direction of the mage's rooms. "I offered, she wanted ta do t'ings her way. Saki offered, too, but the farm's kinda close to dem woods, ya knows? Woulda hurt, I t'ink. And da hall?" She gave him a sidelong look and shook her head. "Ain't 'nuff left ta call much, t'anks ta Alliance. Da house, too." She offered the bad news as gently as she could. "An' sensible girl she is, she figured she work outta here, she should stay here."

The witch doctor looked to both sides before sliding a key out of her sleeve and unlocking the shoddy door. " 'mergencies only, she said. Figure dis counts." She winked at him and gestured him in. "Ya have a looks around. I'm gonna go down an' see who's in." Hasa disappeared from the doorway, closing it behind her with a faint 'click' before he could answer.

The room was tiny, but neat. Her sewing basket sat near a solitary chair, odds and ends dangling from its confines as usual. Stacks of translations sat neatly tied and ready to be returned to the office. The faint spicy-sweet smell of her soap permeated everything. Someone stayed here, but it wasn't remotely a home, nor had any effort been made to make it so.

One of the desk drawers was slightly ajar- as though it had been opened on a whim and something removed in a hurry. A corner of frayed linen stuck out of the drawer, its edges stained faintly with the distinct brown of blood- although it wasn't quite the dark brown of an old stain long since set- it was relatively new.

Yoresh didn't move for the longest time as though rooted to the spot, just inside the door. He had known about the house; how could he not? It had been the first place he had gone to look for her and the rest... he couldn't say he really cared. The hall had never really been his home and the people had been alright for the most part; his daughter hadn't even been anywhere near the place when the alliance attacked it or even since. Given the growing chaos of what the Horde was becoming, she was no doubt making good money in her area of expertise.

But that was neither here nor there and as much as he would like to deny it, this was where Brae had been staying. The smell of her soap brought an ache to his chest and his hands itched to touch her skin again, to hold her tightly in his arms. The desire swelled to such a degree it momentarily stole his breath and he finally moved further into her room, towards the bed to sit down; it creaked loudly in protest to his bulk. The scent of her skin, not the soap but her, clung to the sheets, increasing the ache tenfold. His arm braced on his knee, he buried his face in his hand, the other reaching stiffly to the side to grab the sheet and scrunch it in his fist.

The closer he came to her, it seemed, the more evidence he had to face of just how badly he had failed her.

He pulled on the sheet, freeing the top end from the mattress and pulled it to his face, inhaling deeply. He wanted to scream, but grit his teeth instead, knowing he would probably turn violent if he did. Even now, he suddenly realized, the sheet was pulled taut between his hands and he quickly relaxed his grip, letting it fall to the side.

With a frustrated growl he pushed himself up and looked around the small room, forcing himself to focus on finding anything he could to tell him where she'd gone. His eyes fell on her desk, on the drawer and he pulled the linen out, to better examine the bloodstains. It wasn't a lot, she had probably cut herself on something, but it didn't look like she had used the cloth to clean it either; more like she had touched it after the fact without realizing her injury.

Keeping it in his hand, he shoved the drawer shut with somewhat excessive force. He didn't even know what he was looking for!

The linen hadn't come without resistance. In fact, a small ''thud' had come from the drawer as he'd pulled the cloth free- the unmistakable heft of bound pages against wood. If he'd opened the drawer to investigate further, he would have found a familiar volume, now slightly charred and with torn pages painstakingly restored, even if she hadn't been able to get the muddy boot stains off all the pages. It had clearly been pulled from the remains of the house, although how long the project might have taken was mind-boggling.

On her desk was a page of notes scribbled hastily in Amani runes rather than Thalassian. The ink had smudged in half a dozen spots, rendering her reasoning incoherent except two words:Caer Darrow.

While Yoresh hadn't registered the resistance when pulling out the linen, he'd heard the thump of something within the drawer hitting its edge when it had been slammed shut and he pulled it back out, hoping for perhaps a journal. Anything that would give him an idea.
What he found instead floored him and he braced both hands against the desk. He couldn't stop staring at the tome within the drawer, couldn't believe she had kept it all this time, let alone saved it from the broken remains of their home. A low, strangled sound escaped his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Yoresh was on his way to the library when he ran into the very elf he had been looking for. Why he didn't look there first was beyond him, but he found her in the end so it didn't really matter. He slipped his right hand behind his back and stopped, taking up more than half of the hallway. "I was looking for you elf... Brae- Braedori," he said in his native tongue. He'd never admit it but he really liked the fact he could speak his own tongue and be understood. She blinked. And then she flushed.

"Y-y-y-you.." Her ears turned red at the tips and the flush crept down from there. She gulped and took a breath. Then, instead of even attempting to continue in Orcish, she switched to Amani. "You were?"

"I just said I was," he answered watching her color change like a chameleon. "There was... something... are you alright? You're turning the color of my hair. And why are you looking so depressed?" And why was he even asking? Yoresh shifted on his feet a little, his face giving nothing away.

She bit her lip for a moment. "I didn't mean to change colors?" Her ears drooped a little. "It's just...I stuttered. Normally- I stutter all the time. I can't help it...it's embarrassing. I feel like half the Rottens think I'm a simpleton because the only time I don't stutter is when I'm speaking troll and then it's just so overwhelming. Most of these people are insane. Or brave. Or maybe you have to be both and last night was really long with this crazy druid asking me why I was here over and over and over and I told her but she just kept asking why like there was some big reason I'm missing and the night before that some little rogue was throwing geist limbs at me and you really were right, there's no way I'm going to last five minutes out here and..."

She paused for a breath, wide-eyed. That was the most he’d ever heard her say all at once in all the time she had been here. Her fingers twitched, no doubt looking for a book to hold. She didn't have one. But it told him she'd at least made an effort not to live in the library, even if she'd failed miserably at it.

"But." She let out a breath. "That's not what brought you down." She smiled a little. Or tried to. "What did?"

He glanced to the side as though he really wanted to look behind him but caught himself in time, his right hand still out of sight. His eyes seemed to bore into her a moment. "I also told you I'd make sure you saw more of the world in exchange for you teaching me orc tongue." He frowned. "The way you cry about your experience in the guild hall makes me think you no longer want to go out there." His words sounded harsh but he wasn't trying to hurt her feelings, even if that's what it came across as. "Well?"

"I-" Her ears twitched slightly and she signed. She did seem relieved to see him. "I don't think so-I mean, about.. going back. It's just...odd. I'm not used to being noticed and I feel so out of place when there's only one person I can converse with without having to take fifteen minutes to be able to say three words." Not-and he could read the thought on her face plain as day- that there was anyone at all she could do so with back in Silvermoon.

She shifted her shoulders a bit. "And I remember what you promised- I may stutter and blush but I'm not forgetful." She frowned at him slightly and bit her lip again. "Or are you going to frown at me like that after you told me to remember I don't live in the library and tried the hall and was...disconcerted by all of it at once?"

((continued in next post))

He gave a brisk nod. "You tried it and you'll try it again and again and again until you're comfortable here." His face never changed. "And there are worse things than stuttering. You're being foolish. If I turned tail every time someone looked at me funny for not being able to talk plain orcish I'd never get anything accomplished." He tapped his temple with his left hand. "It's all in your head. You're already thinking you're going to mess it up before even opening your mouth! Once you're comfortable in the hall I bet my soul you won't stutter half as much."

He was talking way to much and frowned at himself this time. Then he finally revealed his right hand, holding out a rather thick and old spell book, all but shoving it into her hands. "I have no more use for this," he said. "It's all in here now-" he tapped his head again. "So might as well see if you could use it."

Brae watched him as he spoke with a hint of bemusement. Her ears twitched slightly. She nearly had to take a step when he pushed the spell book in her hands.

"I...th-thank you. I'm sure I can f-find something.." She flushed, blinking. That was the first time the stutter had ever crept into her Amani that he knew of. She cleared her throat slightly and fought back a laugh.

"An interesting gift from someone who insists I not shut myself away with yet more books, isn't it?" Her mirth was as plain to read as anything else she felt, setting her green eyes to dancing.

The smile was seen only in his eyes and he cleared his throat. "The nice thing about books is you can take them anywhere." And with that notion he turned and started walking down the hall. When he vanished around the corner she could hear his quiet chuckle finally surface.

Opening his eyes, he carefully reached down and brushed his fingers over the tome before laying his hand on it's surface. His other hand clenched into a fist, a piece of paper crumpling in his palm as it was caught up in his hand.

To think she had saved this when he couldn't even hang on to a single feather. Yoresh wanted to take the tome, but knew without knowing what lay ahead, it would be safest here in her room; so instead he raised it up and lightly kissed the cover, gently placing it back in the drawer and closing it with more care. He lifted his other hand to wipe over his eyes when he noticed the crumpled paper sticking to his skin. He would have just peeled it off and tossed it back on the desk, but a familiar rune caught his eye and he flattened it out against the wooden surface. It was written in Amani. Most of it had become illegible but the words Caer Darrow were recognizable enough.

His heart thumped against his chest as the possibility of finding her there presented itself. He hoped that when he showed it to Hasa, she would be able to verify it when she returned. Or perhaps he should go look for her instead; who knew when she would get back?

Hasa hurried along the wooden walkways, returning to Brae's room. She very nearly collided with the other troll as he opened the door. "Find anyt'in? All I could gets was she was lookin' fo' some old books out in da Plaguelands somewhere." Hasa frowned and shook her head. Dat's what I gets fo' dealin' wit' gnomes... She pointed to the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. "Don't suppose she left a note sayin' oh, if ya be alives, here's a map ta where I'm at', huh?"

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Brae tugged a curl in frustration. She really should have seen if they'd still had the original troublesome volume in the vault before she'd left. She couldn't shake the feeling something big was coming. Her hand wandered to her pocket and the feather again. She felt frustration with her fruitless search melt into hot anger.

Stop doing that, idiot girl. There's no one to return it to. She clenched her fist and pulled it out of her pocket. He was gone. She had to accept that. He had to be gone. The alternative was utterly unthinkable and would shatter her to pieces. They'd found the feather without any sign of disturbance or altercation. It lay on the ground as though it had been left deliberately as a message. He was gone- knew he was dying and left it for her, or....or....

A small pile of debris exploded into splinters and smoldering embers. Brae blinked and stared at her outstretched hand, curling the fingers closed and carefully pulling it back to her side. No- that was impossible. Something had happened to him and he was gone, because if he'd been alive, he would have come already. She wouldn't have wound up in the Violet Hold during the blood-letting between the factions of the Kirin Tor. He wouldn't have let her stay there. He wouldn't have left her on his own. ...would he?

Another creepy-crawly thing found its demise in the heat of the mage's discomfort and she started looking for anything that looked like old paper, trying to shut the taunting voice in her head up.

Yoresh stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him, holding out the piece of paper. He caught himself moving his other hand over the lock and closed his hand, dropping it back to his side.

"Caer Darrow in Plaguelands, yah?" he gave the paper a little waves. "Written on dis. Most of it been--" he frowned and mimed the act of smudging the paper. "Bad ta read. I..." again his words failed him and he crumpled the paper in his hand again. "Made it worse."

It became obvious just what a mess his mind was currently in that he had reverted to the most basic speech pattern, not even pronouncing the words correctly the way she had taught him to and forgetting others.

He let out a long breath in a soft growl, pinched the bridge of his nose and then rubbed his eyes in a very tired gesture. For a short moment he just looked old and worn.

"If she be dere it take days to travel," he rumbled in frustration. "She be gone before I even get--" he gestured wildly with his hand a moment, "halfway dere!"

Hasa shrugged. "Seems like kinda like a long project ta me. Sure it's not just that ya'd have ta take a boat?" It felt like she had to push him into it- if not now, then it was going to be never, even if he'd sat around Brae's rooms like a lump until she got back.

Yoresh absently rubbed at his chest as he stared past the smaller troll and out across the ocean. So much water. But a boat would be much faster than going by land. Not if you get caught up in a storm. You have no magic to teleport to safety or save yourself should the boat sink. The mage tensed up, fighting against the urge to retreat a step. He was not a coward! It's the ocean. You could end up in the middle of nowhere with nothing but water all around you. Boats arrived at their destinations all the time! Boats get attacked or sink or disappear as well. Especially during times of war. The Horde isn't even safe from itself.

Yoresh became aware that he was clutching his robe and quickly let go, giving Hasa a somewhat lost look.

"A boat..." he said a little dazed.

She nodded, frowning a little. "I know it ain't da preferred way ta go. But it is fast, 'specially from here. An'..." She shrugged. "She been keepin' ta herself, but ya nevah can knows how long dat'll be, ya?" She shifted uncomfortably, hating to be the one to bring the subject up like that.

Yoresh stared at her incredulously, caught off-guard by the sudden change in topic, but he quickly recovered and his face crumpled into something vicious as he stepped into her personal space, bringing his face to her level and close enough that his long sloping tusks prodded her. "She is my mate," he snarled in his native tongue, eyes shimmering like embers.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him to back off; she wasn't the one trying to steal his mate from him.

Hasa lifted a brow and poked his nose fearlessly. "An' she t'inks ya been dead fo' almost a year. Get ya Amani backside on a boat an' go finds her, 'fore someone else notices her, ya?" Hasa poked him one more time in the chest with an indignant huff. "An' try ta have enough manners ta remember who ya friends is." With that, she promptly spun on her heel and headed back toward the town limits and home, muttering under her breath to the unseen presences that kept her company.

His breath came in angry huffs as he watched the gurubashi zulfi leave, his heart still pounding in his chest. Once again, his anger had gotten the better of him and he knew Brae would be very disappointed in him. He took one step towards her retreating form, but he didn’t call out. He didn’t apologize or thank her for all she had done. If it weren’t for her, he’d still be running around without a clue as to where to go.

Taking a very deep breath, he exhaled on a growl, trying to release the tension and let go of the anger, but neither left him completely. Turning away, he headed in the opposite direction and to his great discomfort, closer to the water.

First things first… he needed a map.

* * *

Yoresh felt sick as he sat hidden away amongst the cargo of the Alliance vessel headed for Stormwind. Every creak and pop made him flinch a little and he had lost all notion of time down here. He tried to get his mind off the fact that water surrounded him on all sides and instead focus on what lay ahead of him once they made port. Getting on the ship had been relatively easy – a bribe given to a goblin dockworker, however getting off unseen and then finding a second ship to take him towards Gilneas was going to prove to be somewhat harder. There would be no goblins to bribe in Stormwind; he was heading right into Alliance territory and he wasn’t exactly a small person to easily sneak around or blend in.

A couple hours later found him crammed into a crate of mashed bananas; he’d had to stomp most of them to make room for him and his pack. While very disgusting, it did help cushion the blow when the crane unceremoniously dropped the crate on the pier. Finally, after much jostling about, a very short drop and more thumping, the voices outside faded away.

Yoresh waited a little longer before pushing his shoulder against the lid. It didn’t budge and no matter how shifted and tried, he was still trapped. No doubt something was stacked on his crate. Growling in frustration, he pulled his knees up as best he could- which wasn’t very much- and started to press his back against the other side. The mess of mashed banana’s was making it hard to keep the purchase with his knees, but after long moments, the wood finally began to creak and give under the pressure until it broke. It took a lot of effort, but he had finally managed to pull himself out onto the coble stones, dragging the pack out after him.

And that was just the easy part…

She stared up at him from under her lashes, faking sleep in case the troll woke. He'd stayed, despite his declarations that she'd be on her own once he'd made sure she was all right. He really wasn't all that bad, once you got past the grumpy bit. In fact, he was pretty nice- in his own way, even when she could tell he didn't want to be. He'd stayed when he hardly knew her; he certainly hadn't been beholden by any responsibility towards her save that of pupil to tutor.

The last vestiges of foggy remembrances had cleared, leaving her shaken and uncertain. Everything she'd thought she'd known had been predicated on....well, on mostly fairy tales and blood thistle in her tea, apparently. She idly wondered what kind of effect that had over the term of so many years. So many things were starting to make sense.

He was coming to, himself. She quickly pressed her eyes shut, lest he catch her looking. He hadn't had to help, hadn't had to stay....but there he was, waking up where he'd fallen asleep sitting. There would be time enough later to ask herself why it mattered so much, or why she'd been so...happy to see him there.

Brae pinched her nose and tugged a curl. She should have expected a place with this many ghosts would likely raise a few of her own. She just hadn't anticipated this one. The mage let out a slow breath. The books. She was here for the books, not a bloody trip down memory lane on a chapter of her life she'd been trying to bury for sanity's sake. Her throat and eyes ached with tears she refused to allow since he'd disappeared.

She stuck her hand in a pile of debris and tugged on whatever parchment was there, only to be disappointed that it was a random list of supplies and not a clue. The sun sank lower on another day of her search, the heads in the garden continued their incessant screaming, and her own ghost refused to leave her in peace.

Yoresh clung to the railing, his claws digging into the wood, his knuckles pale with the force behind his grip. He was staring at the small lifeboat as it floated further and further away with his pack. Stared at the way the waves from the ship jostled it to and fro. His heart was hammering and he felt like it was trying to escape up his throat; a fine tremor went through his whole body.

“Hey you!” the words were barked in common and he glanced down at the unconscious sailor at his feet. The human was likely going to notice very soon if he hadn’t already spotted his hands or tusks.

Move.
Yoresh didn’t move.

The human came closer and cursed when he saw his comrade. He cursed even louder when he noticed the hands clinging to the railing and the long, sloping tusks poking out of the hood.

“Horde scum!” he snarled, drawing his saber and rushing him.

Move!

The lifeboat had nearly drifted out of sight, the large vessel speeding away from it on favorable winds. The human shouted his hatred as he swung the saber at the mage’s head, but a split second before making contact the mage simply vanished.

Yoresh cried out in panic as the small lifeboat tilted under his sudden weight and he threw himself down in the middle, desperately wanting something solid to cling to. All he had was the pack and he crushed it to his chest as though it could save him.
The boat settled into gentle, natural rocking, but he still couldn’t move, couldn’t even open his eyes. He didn’t know what he was thinking. The boat was much to small. The second he moved it would capsize and dump him into the ocean. The deep, dark ocean.

The troll felt sick to his stomach and completely humiliated by his fear.

The more he dwelled on it, the more it angered him. He wasn’t a coward damnit! Fear would not rule him!

He forced himself to release his death grip on the pack and opened his eyes, planting his hands flat against the wood. Taking a deep breath, he slowly pushed up until he was kneeling and looked out over the waters. The alliance vessel was long gone and he wondered if perhaps he should have waited until they’d gotten closer to land than this to release the lifeboat. Too late now in any case.

The mage licked his lips and swallowed hard as the taste of banana made him want to retch. He stank of them too. Growling in frustration, he gave his braid a hard yank and carefully moved to sit in the boat properly. He still tensed whenever the boat moved too suddenly but at least he wasn’t curled up like a baby. Progress was a wonderful thing and if he didn’t get the oars set and started rowing soon, he would drift too far out to make it back to land.

* * *

It felt like forever until the boat finally bumped against the rocks. The beach to North Tide’s Run was a little ways further north, but going there would require him to jump into the water to get to land so he had opted the cliffs further south. This way he could just climb out of the boat and make his way to the Forsaken Rear Guard on foot.

Not much longer. Loa, let her still be there when I get there…

Brae rubbed the back of her neck and looked up through the ruined roof at whatever night sky there was to see. Part of her wished it would rain, so she could wash her turbulent thoughts away with it. She'd thought they'd still been all right, still been happy together even though the aftermath of Saki's disaster was rough going for everyone who'd been involved.

She tugged a curl and let out a breath. The bad blood between her mate and oldest friend went back beyond the personal to the instinctive conflict between two incompatible races that called the same territory home. She couldn't blame either of them for that. Nor could she blame either of them for feeling trapped between them. Neither had ever asked her to choose one over the other. Guilt and doubt still plagued her. If she hadn't asked him to help, he wouldn't have been stuck drained and angry. If she hadn't asked, Saki would be deader than a door nail.

There was no getting around the strain in everything, those days. She'd worked so very hard to convince herself he had to be dead- because his disappearance not long after the incident- only let itself to the most unthinkable of solutions. The conclusion that he couldn't stand looking at her, another elf despite her quirks, and had simply left without even so much as a goodbye. Hadn't she chosen without reservation, though? She'd asked him to help, knowing that it would put him at as great a risk as her friend. It was her fault, all of it.

Her fingers traced idly over her forearm, fingers tracing pale pink scars in the shape of runes that had held meaning and power even before Azeroth had been called as much by its earliest inhabitants. Had she finished it to prove that she was who she'd always been, stuck between two worlds? Some attempt to bring him back from wherever he'd gone? She threw a rock at the crumbling wall with a snarl.

WHY would this not stay buried any longer? What in the hells was this over-riding sense that something was coming that made her uneasy? She was angry and dirty and tired and sorely wished she hadn't just run off from Booty Bay without any company. Her thoughts were hardly suitable companions, especially in these ruins. Why did it matter anymore, why he'd left, or how? One way or another, he was gone and she was on her own.