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Meh
He turned the ring over slowly in his hands, quietly admiring his work. It was his favourite piece to date; a slender band of gleaming mithril, the outer side of the band etched deeply with a flowing script, the words themselves set with a fine, sparkling powder taken from the Oshu’gun crystal.
It glowed with a light all it’s own, even in the darkness.
“What are you making?”
Faolyn’s voice was strangely pleasant for once, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he dropped into the bench across from Jayrian.
He was suspicious, unused to the elf being so polite to him, even when he dropped by to commission a piece of jewelry, or to browse his few wares. But he too was in a pleasant enough mood, and so he wordlessly held the ring out to his commander. Faolyn was careful as he took the ring, knowing how much it would be worth if Jayrian ever tried to sell it. “It’s beautiful,” the man said softly, watching the ring as it glimmered in his hands, peering at the inscription, “What does it say?”
Jayrian faltered for a moment, frowning slightly, “It…does not translate well,” he finally said, “My heart. Heart of my heart…it is close to that, I think.” He took the ring back, tucking it safely back into one of the small compartments of his jeweler’s kit. The paladin glanced up again, slightly startled by the thoughtful, and slightly suspicious look that had crept across Faolyn’s face. “Who is it for?” The elf’s voice was mild, but it was a loaded question, one that Jayrian could not answer without straying into dangerous territory. But he could not lie. So he simply shrugged, glancing away, avoiding the question.
“I see,” Faolyn was not a fool, though he may choose to play one at times. He knew the answer, that much was obvious from the harsh edge to his voice, and the veiled threat to his words as he stood, “Good night, Jayrian, watch your step when you return to camp.”
Innocuous enough, the paths had been bombed, the heavy pavement cracked and pitted, but that was not what the rogue meant.
But he simply nodded, saluting Faolyn’s back.
It would be many hours before he would finally stand, gathering up his work and returning to the main camp, to the tent that he had commandeered to get away from the noise of the barracks.
She joined him on the path, slipping silently out of the shadows that lined the roadway, her bow ready and strung in her hands, still brimming with the restless energy of battle, her smile wide and somewhat wicked.
But she didn’t say anything, simply brushing against him as they walked. He could tell she was thinking, even though her smile stayed in place…something was bothering her.
“Come with me, to Northrend.”
Her words startled him, and he stopped in the middle of the path, looking down at her in confusion.
“Come with me, away from this place and the madness of the Leigon,” she touched his arm gently, looking up at him, her smile gone now, “They need more fighters, the fight here can go on without us.”
“Tanithra…” he reached up, grasping her hand where it still lay on his arm, “You know I cannot go with you.” He shook his head, silencing her interruption, “No. The Prophet states that it is here that we will finally know our fate. We have spent lifetimes fleeing the madness that is the Burning Legion…here is where we must make our stand. No more running. This is where I belong.”
She looked frustrated with him, with the passive way he accepted his fate, “Then this is where you die.” She replied, sounding annoyed, “An unknown, unremembered nothing, another number erased by the daemons. Come with me! Northrend is where you belong.”
Jayrian sighed, releasing her hand and turning away from her, taking a few steps down the path before replying. “I am tired of running from these daemons. And I…I am ready to die.”
The sharp intake of breath behind him was enough to make him pause and look over his shoulder, but she was already gone.
He would not see her for the rest of the night, or even in the morning.
Waking up alone was strange now.
Not that he had time to dwell on the cold space in his bed, or the fact that he suddenly missed the way she would steal his blankets and huddle beneath them, trying to will the day away while he laughed and pried the pillow out from under her head.
No time to think, there were things to do; armor to put on, a fast to be broken and orders to be received and carried out in addition to the air raid he was to be taking part of later in the day.
By now, many of the commanders had begun to put them together on missions, more than just sentry duty. Apparently they worked well together; the paladin holding the attention of the target, and the hunter riddling them with arrows from a safe distance. He could even function as a healer should one of them become injured in the battle…although…as of late he felt his connection to the Light grow tenuous, as though the guilt and confusion he felt were causing it to slip away from him.
They received their orders together, everyone did. But she didn’t say a word to him as they walked to the stables and mounted up, heading towards the Magister’s Terrace in an angry silence.
He didn’t try to break it, as tempting as it was. Let her be angry, let her pout, it would not change a thing.
But that wouldn’t keep him from glancing over at her occasionally, wondering if he would find her looking back, but he never did, she stared forward resolutely, her bow readied and resting across the pommel of her saddle, ever vigilant.
Or so she appeared, for no one saw the motley group of daemons just on the other side of the bridge. The group had little time to react, dismounting or being pulled from the saddle by the ered’ruin, the first few seconds of the skirmish were pure chaos, and they were swiftly overrun.
Two fell in as many minutes; a warrior and a priest, and though just as many of the fiends fell, they were still sorely outnumbered.
This was supposed to be a simple scouting mission, a small handful of warriors sent into the Terrace to investigate the forces held there. They were prepared to meet resistance, but often the first few minutes of a battle can determine the overall outcome.
He moved on auto-pilot now, his shield to the front, smashing aside anything that happened to get within reach of his mace even as he shoved the less armored fighters behind him, unmindful of the hateful eyes that began to turn his away, changing targets as he moved.
He had only one thing on his mind, everything else could wait until he was sure that she was safe.
Her arrow wobbled, knocked off course as he grabbed her, pulling her safely behind his shield, and the frustrated sound she made cut off as the arrow managed to hit it’s mark, neatly dropping one of the fiends.
“You must go back, keep the others safe,” he blurted the words out, rushed and tangled, hard to make out over the sudden ringing of metal on metal as a sword crashed against his upraised shield.
She popped out from behind the shield, loosing another arrow before ducking back to safety, “No, Jayrian…” She looked up at him for a moment as she readied an arrow, the shaft glimmering a bright blue as the enchantment upon it activated. Her eyes were bright as she let the arrow fly. “How can I? How can I leave you here?”
He shook his head, turning swiftly to face the remaining mages and shaman, “Return to camp, tell them that the ered’ruin are massing here. Go swiftly and do not falter…I will remain here and purchase your escape.”
Their expressions were tight with strain and regret, but already they finished casting their spells and began their retreat, looking for whatever mounts that had not already fled the battlefield.
Already the last mage was loosing focus, her spells weaker now as she held the enemy at bay, giving him time to speak to Tanithra. “Do not weep for me, and remember me with kindness…I do what I must.”
The mages spells finally failed, and he pushed the elf away, not watching as she grabbed the woman by the arm and ran, pushing her along.
She glanced back once, and only once as she found her Talbuk, pushing the mage up into the saddle. She looked back long enough to see him vanish beneath the group of ered’ruin, and then, when they finally turned their eyes to her, she fled.
I am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam
And no emotion that's worth having could call my heart its home
My heart's an autoclave
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