[[ An old story, recently finished off, with an ending different from the original inception. >_> ]]
"Are you ready, Elri?" I asked, as I buckled his last strap into place. He made a soft, twittering coo at me, nipping the edge of my robe with his beak. I ran a pale hand over his crest in appreciation of his affection, and moved to climb atop him.
He ruffled slightly at having a passenger again after so long, and shifted a bit under me, but seemed to settle after a moment. I leaned over to look him in his bright, violet eye. "You suuure you're ready, Elri? It's cold up there, and Dalaran is preeeetty far awaaay..." I teased, my hands burrying themselves in the thick feathers of his neck, scratching him just the way he liked. He enjoyed this for a moment, before suddenly puffing up and twittering loudly in reply to my question.
I smiled and nodded as he shifted again under me, his wings expanding and then folding again. He was ready to leave, and so was I. I nodded to the Valiance Keep flight master, who had helped me secure Elri's passage to Northrend, and nudged the gryphon in the flank lightly. I felt his body tense under me a moment before we shot into the air in a rush of white feather.
----
We'd been flying over the Tundra for what seemed like days before the Dragonblight border finally came into view. I let out a sigh of relief at our journey being a third over finally, but Elri just twittered yet again and increased his speed, eager to see different scenery below his taloned feet. I sighed softly, my breath a wash of white fog, and scratched his neck again.
"You are truley a credit to your species, Elri." I praised, glad to be up here on the gryphon, rather than down there, on foot. We'd passed so many... unfriendly looking creatures since we left Valiance Keep.
Elri heard it a moment before I did; a high, squeeling, clicking sort of sound. I peered cautiously over the side of the gryphon, as he too sought out its source, scanning the snow covered forest below us. A spot of black caught my eye, and I caught a flash of red and blonde as we flew over. Then I heard a man's voice, yelling, and the odd clicking sound echo after him.
I grabbed the gryphon's reins and slowed us suddenly. He didn't like that, and bobbed in the air wildly for just a moment, but I turned us around and he started to descend toward where we'd last heard the noise.
I saw them then, a blood elf flanked by two very large, very angry looking Nerubian gaurds. My breath caught in my throat as I realized the shock of red was a splatter of blood in the snow. The elf was shakey on his feet, and as I drew closer, I saw that he held a sword in one hand, and what looked like a match one in the other, only the last half of it was missing, broken off somewhere.
Elri puffed up, right down to the tuft on his tail, and stopped his descent, bobbing in the air, and hooting at me angrily. "Oh honestly Elrithion, sometimes you're as stubborn as a mule.." I snapped at him, plucking one of the feathers from his back and sliding off the side of the saddle, toward the ground, and the injured elf.
I whispered the incantation I knew so well, and the feather evaporated in my hand as I directed the cloud of white-ish violet toward my feet. I landed softly in the snow a few yards behind the man, and rushed forward, my hands already surrounded by the warm, glowing light of Elune.
I thrust Her energy at the Nerubian closest to me, and it squeeled in that eerily insectoid like fashion, casting its many rubicund eyes at me. I saw the Elf collapse out of the corner of my eye and moved to stand infront of him, my feet sinking so deep in the snow that I could no longer see the hem of my robe. I tried to steady myself as much as I could, erecting a protective barrier of light around the two of us.
The two Nerubians squinted at the shining of my form, and twisted away from it. Something glinted and caught my eye; the end half of the Elf's broken sword had been broken off in the first Nerubians thickly-armored chest, and something black and thick oozed from around it. That particular Nerubian stumbled in the snow, weakened it seemed, and I took the oppertunity to thrust another bolt of light at the damnable creature.
It fell the rest of the way to the snow, its body quivering as it rasped and lay still suddenly. I then turned my eyes toward the second gaurd. It hissed at me, and as I readied another attack, it sprang away, skittering back toward the darkness from whence it came.
I remained ready for a few very long moments, suspecting that perhaps it had fled to gather reinforcements, but that didnt seem the case. I relaxed finally, and turned to kneel next to the fallen Blood Elf.
I couldn't help but notice that he was quite beautiful, even half dead. I brushed a lock of thick, sunkissed hair from his neck, and lay two fingers to the soft flesh there. His heart beat under my touch, weak, but steady. I rolled him over gently to examine the rest of him, and found a sizeable fang embedded into the side of his thigh; poisoned, no doubt.
I reached a hand out to remove it, and gasped audibly as his hand found my wrist, squeezing enough that it hurt. He looked up at me with wild, emerald eyes, his chest heaving with his sudden return to consciousness as he sputtered a few quick words to me in Thalassian. My eyebrows furrowed as his grip tightened, but I let out a deep breath, and extended my free hand to caress his forehead, in an attempt to soothe him. He relaxed slowly, his grip loosening as my cool hand found his fevered cheek. I smiled down at him thoughtfully, and spoke the only words that came to mind.
"You're going to be all right." I told him, as he lay his head back down in the snow, his eyes half-lidded. He said something else in Thalassian, and then prompty passed out. I furrowed my brow again, in worry this time, before letting out a sharp whistle.
"Elri, you chicken! Get down here!" I called upwards, spying the grpyhon hovering several feet above where we were, and eying the Nerubian carcass warily. It took him several moments before he would finally touch the ground, and even then he watched the Nerubian body with great tension as I struggled to heave the man onto Elri's saddle.
His body looked lithe and fit, even a bit lanky, but he was male of course, and taller than me, and much much heavier.
I finally managed to get us both onto Elri, and once I was certain he wasnt going to slide off, I nudged the bird-creature in the side. He was all too happy to get off the ground.
"Dalaran, Elri, remember.. Hurry, please..." I said, rubbing the spot where I'd plucked the feather from him. He seemed irritated at me, and moreso that I'd added a passenger, but he let out an irritated twitter of compliance, and headed North.
-------
I had help carrying him to the infirmary when we arrived at Krasus' Landing, and he woke up briefly in the middle of it, panicking. I apologized profusely to the Dalarian guard, and promised I'd send a few gold coins his way for a replacement tooth.
I don't quite think he remembered any of it, but he was unconcious again by the time we got him to a bed. Miss Josie, one of the women attending the infirmary, said I'd gotten him there just in time. The fang was removed, and the anti-poison administered, but she informed me it could take a while for him to come around.
I had merely nodded in understanding and returned to my original duties.
-----
It was on day three that I began to wonder just why I was still here. I had completed my errand of retrieving some valuable texts, and still I lingered. I had made it an excuse to myself to linger in Dalaran, told myself that perhaps there were other texts here that might be valuable to the Priestess' of Darnassus, besides the ones I had already retrieved.
He was Horde, after all, and I had no obligation to stay here at his bedside to insure his survival. But wasn't that exactly the point of my being a Priestess of Elune? To insure the survival of, well, anyone? This man had done no wrong to me, and so I had no reason to turn him away. I suppose I just felt inclined to make sure he woke up.. some kind of mothering instinct, perhaps. Though, I had this nagging suspicion that I was just merely curious.
Curious as to who he was, why he was where he was when I found him.
Tomorrow, I told myself. I'd find him, check on his recovery, and be on my way.
______
I sighed softly, and stood to lean over his bed, tucking a lock of cerulean hair behind my elongated ear as I placed the back of my hand to his unusually warm forehead. His fever still hadn't broken, but atleast he had stopped mumbling in his sleep. I didn't know very much Thalassian, but it seemed as though he were talking about some woman. I felt an odd dismay at that, for some reason.
He had been moved to a bed at the inn, because the infirmary had filled up very quickly after his arrival, so I'd been sitting in his room alone for quite some time. It had given me a very long time to study him.
I now knew that his hair was not merely sunkissed, but that it held varying shades of golds and yellows, even a few faint tinges of red in places. Most of his armor had been removed when they'd treated him, and it now sat in a pile to one side of the bed. I had discovered that the parts of him that had seen sun were only a few shades darker than my own pale skin, and the parts of him that hadnt, were just as white as me. It was interesting how a pale blush bled into a creamy white around the edges where his armor had been, and I'd found myself pondering this quite too often.
I blushed now, thinking about it once more, but grinned just the same. I felt as if I knew so much about this man already, and it made me eager for him to wake up, so that I might get to know more of him. The curiosity was a bit childish for someone in my place, a Priestess at that, but I couldn't help it.
I moved to the edge of the chair I sat in by his bed, and reached a hand to tentively caress the back of his. Another thing I found interesting about this man was how his hands managed to stay soft, even though he was clearly a fighter. No scars, no callouses, no rough edges. I sighed once more, and leaned on the bed, resting my head in my hand.
Curious. Very curious.
------
Something was tugging at my hair. What was tugging at my hair?
I woke up slowly, blinking a few times, as I raised my head to investigate the source of the annoyance. It was dark in his room, and it made his softly glowing emerald eyes stand out even more, like fine jewels set in infinitly black silk.
He held a thick lock of my dark cerulean hair in his nimble hand, running his thumb over it in a strangely affectionate gesture. I blinked at him a for a moment, and felt myself blush when he turned those intensely green eyes toward me. I cast my own silver-blue ones away in embarrassment, and as I leaned away from the bed, he released the lock of hair.
"Are you the one who saved me?" He asked after a moment, his voice clear and strong, very unlike when I'd heard him before. He had asked me the question in Common, and I raised one long eyebrow at him for a short moment, before replying.
"Yes, I am... How are you feeling?" I asked, watching him study me.
"Much better now..." He said, eying me oddly still. I cleared my throat a bit, and it brought his gaze to my face once more.
"How long have you been awake?" I asked. The city outside was mostly quiet, and very still, so it must have been a very late hour.
"A few hours..." He admitted, his eyes wandering curiously again; even in the dark I knew he could see me clearly.
"Why didn't you wake me up? You must be hungry, or thirsty atleast." I said, genuine concern in my voice.
He smiled at me. "I'm actually quite fine. My leg is a little sore, but nothing to concern yourself with anymore." He said. "And besides, you were asleep... you looked comfortable, and I didn't want to wake you."
"So you play with my hair instead?" I teased, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to keep his eyes near my face.
He grinned sheepishly at me, running a hand through his thick, golden hair. "Yes, well...." I would have bet anything he was blushing, by the tone of his voice, but my eyesight was apparently not as good as his.
I smiled at him, and moved to light the bedside candle, feeling well aware that he was watching me the whole time. I then stood and bowed awkwardly.
"Well, then, um... if.. You should probably get a bit more sleep." I said finally, nodding. "You know, before heading off again... Have to build up your strength and all." I laughed nervously and moved to head toward the door, but he caught my hand in his suddenly.
"Please... stay another night, Priestess?" His grip tightened just a fraction of an inch, as if to emphasize his request. I looked at him, startled for a moment, and then quickly looked away, feeling my cheeks flush.
I contemplated this request for a fraction of a heartbeat before moving to sit back in my chair, his hand leaving mine. I looked up at his face again, and he was smiling. I couldn't help but return it.
"Very well. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to oversee your recovery for one more night, then..." I said, smoothing out the layers of my skirt as I made myself comfortable.
"Wouldn't you like something with a bit more... cushion?" He offered tentively, scooting over in the oversized bed, grinning at me.
"Oh, no... No, I couldn't.. that'd be.. erm.. very improper of me, and.. " I stuttered, my cheeks flushing yet again as I trailed off. He merely looked at me, amusedly.
"You haven't slept much, I'm sure.. and a chair is hardly the same as a bed..." He coaxed, patting the empty space next to him. "Besides, it'd help me feel better..."
I stared at this pretty, injured man in the soft glow of candle-light, and became suspicious. I frowned at him, unamused, and canted my head just enough to be polite.
"No, thank you." was all I said, firm enough that he could pick up on my offense. The nerve, trying to coax a Priestess of Elune into bed, in only fifteen minutes of waking! Nevermind the impropriety of it all. Our people are known for thier 'love of love', but I was not that easy.
I remained stiff and offended, and moved around the bed to reposition the chair back into it's original corner. I had just reached out to grab the book I had brought with me when his hand found my wrist again. My eyes flicked up to him, partially alarmed, but I remained still, unsure of his intentions at this moment.
His eyes softened, and seemed to grow a few shades paler green. They were apologetic, and under the apology of his eyes, there was a soft hint of sadness too. His hand remained around my wrist and his expression changed. He let out of a puff of breath and spoke to me, in Darnassian this time.
"I am truley sorry for any inappropriateness you may have inferred from my previous question. I wished only to offer you something in return for saving my life, and I had nothing else to offer but a soft corner of my bed, Priestess. I assure you, there was nothing deviant in my intention."
I blinked at him a few times, half in shock that he knew my language, and so fluently. He spoke it so beautifully out of the golden mouth that I had a hard time concentrating on his words. I had known that rogue-types, if employed for espionage, or information gathering, were often taught many languages, but it had never crossed my mind that he would have ever had a use for Darnassian. Our peoples did not mix except in battle; no deals would have ever been made, and so no words were nescessary.
I said nothing for a long moment, but relaxed, my own expression softening. I sat on the edge of his bed, my book nestled in my lap as I met his eyes, searching one last time for any hint of deception. I found nothing but the ambient, verdant glow of his eyes.
"Excuse my offense. I had only assumed, what with your line of work and all, that you were attempting to..." I trailed off, trying to find a clean way to describe what I had presumed.
He chuckled softly, nodding in understanding. "I know what you presumed, and while you are quite ravishing, my intentions were indeed honorable." He took my hand in his, his other coming to pat the top of them.
I smiled then. Something about the patting of my hand made him seem so much more endearing, so much more likeable, like an old friend, somehow. He seemed wiser than the other men of his race that I had encountered. At the very least, much more well mannered.
My smiled persisted as I looked up from his hands encircling mine. He smiled back, genuine, if but a bit tired.
"How are you feeling?" I inquired, motioning to the bandage wrapped around his bare leg, though I could tell from the heat in his hands, his fever hadn't quite broken yet.
He shifted his leg a bit, in exploration and winced, hissing through his teeth, before making an uncomfortable groan, and lowering it back to the bed. "Still quite sore..."
I frowned at his discomfort, that mothering instinct raising up again inside me. I sat my book down on the empty space of his bed and rose, stepping over to the basin of water at the far end of the room. I retrieved my hankerchief and dipped it in the cool water, wringing it out before moving to his bedside again.
He had picked up the book I had laid down and was flipping through its yellowed pages. He didn't look up as I touched his cheek with my wet hand, but he seemed to lean into the touch ever so slightly. I layed the cool cloth across his forehead, and heard him audibly sigh with relief, pausing in his flipping for a moment.
I was drying my hands on a bit of my robe when he spoke, paused at a particular page.
"Will you read this to me?" He asked in earnest, flipping the book toward me to present it's page. It was a very old story, in a very old book, and I touched the page fondly for a moment, noticing the graying ink illustrations on paper that had once been as white and stark as snow.
I nodded without saying a word, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed with him, the book in my lap so that both of us could see it. Strange how only a day or so ago, I had regarded him simply as 'Horde' or Blood Elf. Now it seemed he was just another person, an injured young man whom I had grown fond of in some strange new way. I have never been good with making friends, and I had not expected this at all; that my first would be a man, a Sin'dorei, and a member of the Horde at that. These strange realizations did not take away from the comfort and contentment I felt reading my sick ward his story, however.
I began the story as I had always began the story, even when reading it alone; this story always began with the woosh of wings, a flurry of action. It was a story about an owl, and a hawk, meant for younglings I think, and as I read him the words, the moral of it came back to me. Something in the last lines, which we were still far from, had said something about two birds of a same feather, both fierce, both hungry (the main happening of this story is the owl and the hawk arguing over a choice field of snow-mice, as I recall), had settled thier differences.
The owl had said this to the hawk, after she had agreed to share her field with him:
"Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same."
