jelleneth | Recent Entries

Torian Dawnsinger stood beside his sister at the ship’s wheel for lack of any useful of productive place to be and watched the orcish commander pace circles around them, squinting into the mists for any sign of their quarry and muttering angrily. Torian could almost sympathize with him. The journey, thus far, had been plagued by bad luck; unfavorable winds that delayed their progress south along the coast, a sudden storm that tossed the ship out to sea and away from the naval battle near Tanaris, a jam in, not one but several, cannons when they finally spotted a straggling survivor of that conflict limping along off their leeward side. And now there was this devilish mist, which had sprung up out of nowhere to hide the enemy ship from them just as they were close to catching it. The orc had definite cause for the foul language he was spewing. Of course, had he been as close to the Captain as Torian was, and able to hear the things she was whispering to her troll ‘navigator’, he might have had cause for murder.

( Cut because long story is long. )

    Bilgewater Port stretched like a reeking, infected sore across the coast of Azshara and Jelleneth Dawnsinger stood with her hands on the Sapphire’s wheel and tried not to breathe too deeply as she watched the last of the supplies for her final run being hauled aboard.

    Her final run. It was a bittersweet thought. This ship had been her home, her heart and her life since the first day she was brought aboard it. Memories choked the decks and flooded the galley and crowded so thick in the Captain’s Quarters she could sometimes barely stand to be alone in them. Everywhere she looked, ghosts lingered. It was time to put them to rest. One last job for Revilgaz to clear her debts and then she could walk away. The ship would go to Jessian, a man as badly in need of a home and a purpose as she had been when the Sapphire had passed into her hands. She could only hope that Jessian’s path to those things would be less painful that her own had been.

    From the deck below her future smiled up at her, brushing the dark memories of the past away. It was a quick moment, flash of a grin before he set back to carefully stowing the medical supplies and his own stock of alchemical necessities, but it was enough to solidify her resolve. The house in Feralas was still incomplete but it would keep the rain out and the warm in and that was enough for now. The rest of it; gardens, stables, the workshop for visiting magelets, the nursery and the smells of baking bread and fresh tilled earth, hippogryph dander and dragonhawk smoke, the laughter of children... all of that would come in its own time.

    “That’s the last of it Cap’n,” Ilthus announced as he tromped up the stairs to stand beside her, throwing in a mocking little salute for good measure. “Now can we put out to sea already? M’dying for a smoke but I don’t want to risk lightin’ the ship on fire with all these fumes in the-” His complaint cut off short and his ears rose suddenly on full alert as he looked out over the docks. Jelleneth followed his gaze and drew in a sharp breath. Orcs. A squad of them in formation, heading straight for the Sapphire, and walking beside the lead orc, dressed in his full battle armor, was an all too familiar elven knight.

    She vaulted the railing and was on the deck to meet them before they reached the ship, Ash falling in beside her a heartbeat later. She let her shoulder brush against his, drawing a bit of courage from the touch, as she pulled herself up to face the orcs, and Torian.

    Her brother did not look happy. There was anger in the set of his shoulders and the lines on his brow but, for once, it did not seem to be directed at her. His first words as the column came to halt before the ship made that clear. “I am sorry, Jelleneth. I tried to stop this.”

    “Enough from you, elf!” The orc beside him barked. Ilthus and Jessian stepped up to stand at her other side, both of them tense, hands resting on weapons. The orc’s eyes drifted across them, a cruel smile on his lips, daring them to draw. Jelleneth cleared her throat.

    “Well Torian, I’ll assume, based on the guests you’ve brought along, that you’re not here for a friendly family chat. So what are you here for?”

    It was the orc who answered. “By Hellscream’s orders. Every Horde ship is needed to engage the Alliance fleet. My men and I have been assigned to this vessel to bolster your numbers for the battle, Captain.” There was mockery in the title. The same patronizing tone she remembered from her earliest days in command, the word spat at her contemptuously by Varkaz’s trollish first mate. She’d let it get under her skin in those days, rattle her, make her doubt her choices. She’d learned.

    At her side Ilthus’ daggers scraped in their sheaths, just a grin of steel visible. Jessian’s hand slid a bit closer to the stock of his rifle. Ash showed nothing, his eyes on the orc, but his attention was on her, waiting for orders. The mental calculations were as easy as they were hopeless; too many orcs, too many more in the city beyond, too much time for them to arrive while anchor was weighed and the ship was creaking out of port, too many warships in the surrounding waters and no place to run to even if some miracle let them escape. She wanted to scream. Instead she threw her head back and laughed.

    “About time you boys invited us to the big party. I thought my brother was going to have us delivering tea sets and patrolling circles around perfectly secured islands for the whole of the war.” Uncertainty flashed across the orc’s eyes as he glanced over at Torian and then back to her, giving her a proper sizing up this time. She smirked down at him. “Glad to see someone in the upper ranks realizes that I’m not a child needing to be hidden behind my big brother’s skirts, hmm?”

    The orc’s face split in a grin and he joined her in laughing, a grating guffaw that made her want to bloody her fist on his teeth. She pushed the impulse down and used the aggression to feed her performance instead. “Welcome to the Sapphire, boys. Let’s go be a thorn in the Lion’s paw, eh?” This was met with a shout from the gathered orcs and another approving grin from the orc commander.

    “I have heard your name before, Jelleneth Dawnsinger. Heard you were a hard elf. And one with honor. I admit I had my doubts when I saw this dainty little boat you sail. But so far, I like what I’ve seen of its Captain.” The patronizing tone was gone from the title. A start, at least.

    “She’s like an elf herself,” the Captain replied, stepping aside to let the orcs begin to file aboard. “Her strength is in her speed and ability to slip in between an enemy’s attacks. To sting without getting swatted. We’re a scout ship. Let us play to our strengths and I guarantee you we’ll lay those doubts to rest.” She eyed the orc up and down. “You say you’ve heard my name before. Why don’t you tell me yours?”

    “Duruk Stonecrush.” He thumped his chest with his fist. The name hit hers with equal force.

    “Adrak’s brother.” She nodded. “He mentioned you. Is he?” Her eyes moved to scan the faces of the orcs passing by, but Duruk shook his head.

    “Cultists.” That one, flatly stated word was all the explanation needed. She turned her attention back to her own brother, still standing on the docks.

    “Well Torian, thanks for the delivery. And send my love to Dori when you get back home, eh?”

    “He’s coming with us.” The orc said with a bit of that old cruel enjoyment creeping back into his voice. “General’s orders. He was so very concerned with the fate of this vessel, the General thought it best he take a personal hand in seeing she completes her mission.”

    “And remind me to thank the General for weighing us down with a bureaucrat who doesn’t know the capstan from the mizzen. That’s sure to be handy.” She sighed theatrically and then turned to shout over her shoulder. “Quel’wythar! Show His Lordship to his cot, if ya please.” Jessian looked for a moment as if he might protest, but a glance at her face silenced him and he simply nodded curtly and started for the galley, not even glancing behind to see if Torian was following.

    “And my men?” Duruk asked.

    “We’re a bit bunk shy, I fear. They’ll have to hang hammocks in the cargo hold.”

    The orc nodded and then shouted the order over her head at the company milling about on the deck. “I’ll trust you to get us out of port, Captain. Then we can discuss strategy.” And with that he moved toward the hold, barking more orders at his men and he went.

    “Torian...” Ilthus growled under his breath but she cut him off with a sharp, chopping gesture.

    “Enough. This isn’t his fault.”

    A sigh. “I know. But can I blame him anyway?”

    “Frankly? No. You can’t.” She leaned in a bit, voice dropping. “We’ve all just been press-ganged onto our own ship. My time in command here is limited to how long I can continue to amuse Duruk. Hopefully I can keep it long enough to keep us all alive, but this ship just became enemy territory and we are going to need all the allies we can get. Tor is one. Whether you like that or not. So keep civil or keep quiet.”

    His eyes narrowed a bit, and the bow he gave her was mocking. “I’ll just go set the sails then, shall I, Captain?”

    “Please.” Whether he heard the plea in her voice or not, Ilthus made no further comment, just swung up into the rigging. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly and then coughing a bit from the noxious burn of the air. Ash’s hand fell on her shoulder and she found a smile to give him. “M’ok. Thank you.” She brought her hand up to squeeze his before stepping away. “Could you go down and give our new ‘recruits’ a quick looking over? Make sure none of em are carrying some sick that might spread. ” A nod, and he was moving but paused again at her call. “And Ash? Apologize to Torian for me?”

    He hesitated for just a flicker and then nodded again, expression slipping into an inscrutable mask. “As you wish, captain.” He, too, offered her a salute but there was no mockery in it. Then he was off, quick and silent, to do her bidding.

Current Mood: anxious

Jelleneth sat on the grass at the edge of the river with one bare foot trailing into the water and watched Lord Jessian Quel'wythar holding a one sided conversation with a tree and a large rock. An outside observer would probably have found the scene comical, but Jelleneth sat studying him; his stance, his tone, his expressions, as solemnly and intently as if he were engaged in a duel to the death. When the odd scene was done, he turned to look at her expectantly and she nodded.

"It was closer that time. But you're still too confident. Too comfortable."

Jessian frowned and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "But he is confident, Netha. Gratingly so, at times. And I'm hard pressed to think of a situation in which he would not be at ease. Or seem to be, at least."

A nod from Jelleneth and she pulled her foot out of the water and shifted to face him fully. "Hold that last bit. That's the key, right there."

He sank onto the grass beside her, the movement so graceful, even in the cumbersome and unfamiliar armor, that she couldn’t help but smile. “You’re saying it’s all a seeming?” The skepticism was clear in his tone and she laughed.

“No. Of course not. That’s another thing you need to understand about Ash. There is no ‘all’ there. There are layers on top of layers.” His expression made her stop, and chuckle again. “Though I think, for our purposes, just getting the first few down will be sufficient.”

A sigh and a shake of the head from the nobleman. “Fine. Explain then. And I will do my best to comply.”

She pulled her knees up to rest her chin on them, thinking on her words for a moment before speaking. “It’s like... being in the woods. No matter how much time you spend there, how much like home it begins to feel, it’s never really safe. Not completely. There’s a guard you have up, all the time. A wariness that never goes away. Start there. Be in the woods.”

His eyes held a question for a moment, but it went unvoiced as he closed them and took in a few deep breaths. The air here helped, wild and untamed as all of this land was. He called up the woods; nights spent only vaguely sleeping, days spent on edge, ears and eyes straining for traces of trolls. Then he thought of the cold, the reek of death, the crushing weight of fear and he almost shrank away from it.

“Good.” Her whisper cut in, a line of light in the darkness, an anchor that let him face the memory, pull it around him like a cloak. “Hold that,” she said. “And now, you put the rest on top of it. The confidence. The ease. It’s not a mask. It’s real. But it never forgets the woods.”

“I... I don’t know if I can do this,” he whispered.

“You’re Jessian Quel’wythar.” Her hand slid into his. “There’s nothing you can’t do.” His eyes snapped open, searching her face for traces of mockery. He found none. Just a small, sad smile as she squeezed his hand. “At least, that’s what my fifty year old self would have told you. And she was honest to a fault.”

“I remember.” He pulled his hand back. “Things change.”

“Not as much as you think. I still believe it.” Silence was the only answer; Jessian staring out at the ancient trees and lush hills without seeing them at all. She reached out to cup his chin in her hand and he started, then laughed and took her hand again.

“It was never true. I’ve never succeeded at anything I set out to do. Always... slips away. If I don’t drop it on my own like a clumsy fool.” He gave her a sidelong smirk and would have let her fingers slip from his for emphasis if she hadn’t chased after his hand and recaptured it. “ I’m not the man you thought I was back then, Netha. Fel... I wasn’t that man even then.”

“No one could have been.” Her voice was soft and a touch wistful. “I built you up so high in my head you really had no other option than to disappoint. I resented that for a long while. But what happened between us... I was as much to blame as you were. In the end, it was inevitable. If it hadn’t happened that night it would have been the next, or the next... I needed you to be perfect. Infallible. And you’re not. No one is.”

He snorted. “Not even Ash?” The tone was teasing, but there was a dark cloud behind his eyes.

She laughed. “You’re lucky I don’t have Ilthy’s sense of humor or I might tell him you asked that.”

“So tell me what you’re seeing, then. When you look at him the way you used to look at me.”

That brought a long pause, her fingers falling slack in his, foot brushing along the grass. “It’s different,” she said finally. “Might look the same to you, but... the feeling isn’t the same. Nothing like.”

“No expectations of perfection?” Bitterness there? Oh yes. And not a scrap of effort spent to mask it.

“I think I’ve outgrown it.” This time she was the one to pull away and he made no effort to hold her. “There are times though...” A shake of the head and she reached for her boots.

Jessian rose a bit awkwardly, struggling with the unfamiliar weight. “Have to work on that,” he muttered. Then he walked over to Jell to offer her a hand up, keeping that hand trapped in his once she was on her feet. “Times when what?”

She met his eyes and saw a smile there, faint and wistful, but there. “Times when I think that if the Titans themselves had set out to create a husband for me, they couldn’t have done better than Ash.”

A smirk. “Well. They might have managed younger.”

She jabbed a finger at his ribs then pulled it back sharply with a wince. “I am going t tell him you said that.”

Jessian brought the bruised digit up to his lips for a soft kiss, then released her hand with a wink. “I am bound to the truth. Ranger code and suchnot.”

“Yes. Well. From what I’ve heard he wasn’t much of a catch at my age. A looker, I’m sure. But as for the rest?” She shook her head. “That took time. More time and experience than a younger elf’s had access too. And whatever this mask is youve slipped on now it’s closer to Ilthus than Ash.”

“Seemed safer.” He took a step back and offered her his arm. “I’ll work on it. Watch him a bit more closely over the next few days. Will you both be staying closer to the ship?”

Jelleneth took his arm and nodded. “Should be, yes. He’ll have potions to prepare and Ilthus and I will have research to do. We may hop up to Dalaran with Chry. Scout the townhouse and the street around it out a bit. Set up a few subtle defenses in advance if Chry feels up to it and thinks we can sneak them past the Kirin Tor.”

“Want company for that?” he asked, eyes eager.

“I can’t imagine anyone would object. And I’m sure I wouldn’t mind having someone to roll my eyes along with when Ilthy and Chry vanish off to do... “ She cleared her throat. “Forward reconnaissance.”

They reached the tree where Tyr was dozing, coiled along a branch. The dragonhawk lifted his head and gave Jessian’s hair a friendly little nip before uncoiling and stretching his wings. It had been a nice nap. And though he would have to carry two elves back to the ship, this time at least there would be no ear nibbling on the way.

    It wasn’t a trap. In spite of her stated worries (and Ash’s unstated ones) the job had been just that. A job. And an unexpectedly smooth one. No sudden storms. No brawling below decks, despite the cramped quarters. No inconvenient recognition of certain ship’s medics or dragging out of past deeds best left buried. No ambush waiting for them when they arrived on Quel’danas. Just coin, which the Captain happily accepted, and an invitation to dine with Lord Dawnstar that evening, which she politely declined. She did, after all, have another appointment.

    There was very little talking on the ride into the city. Jelleneth snuck a glance every now and again at Ash, but whatever the medic was thinking, it didn’t show up on his face. Only the alert twitching of his ears gave any sign that he might be having the same worries she was. She told herself she would feel better when the met up with Chry and Ilthus. The familiar road into the city felt too exposed. The rush of homesickness and regret that followed that thought tightened in her stomach as a hard little knot of anger that made her want to hunt. She pushed the urge aside. It would help nothing. And that was not the purpose of today’s excursion.

    They found the mage and the scout just outside the city proper. Ilthus had brought along a blanket and a basket of goodies and laid a small spread for them under a particularly shady tree. He was stretched out now with his back resting against the trunk, watching the road through half closed eyes and running a lazy hand through the hair of the mage dozing beside him, head resting on his shoulder. Netha watched them for a moment, trying to sort through the conflicted jumble of emotions the peaceful scene elicited, then a streak of brilliant orange and red zipped across the grass toward them trailing smoke and trilling triumphantly, and tried to place a legless and dewinged grasshopper into Ilthus’ mouth and she found herself laughing. After a week of wearing her Captain’s mask, laughing felt good. She urged Tyr downwards.

    Ilthus glanced up at the rustle of wings and grinned. “Figured you two wouldn’t have had time to eat yet. And I imagine this bit of business might take a while. Help yourselves.” The grin widened as he cast his gaze towards Ash. “‘Less, o’course you’re watching your girlish figure for the big day, Dawnforged?”

    Ash scoffed lightly and whatever response he might have made was interrupted by the phoenix turning its enthusiasm to Netha for a greeting and its master waking to leap up for a hug as soon as Netha had one of her feet on the ground. Caught off balance, she toppled backwards, carrying the mage down onto the grass with her,Tyr’s agitated squawk lost in a renewed burst of laughter.

    “Sorry, Tyr,” Chryseth said from the grass. Sooty darted over, grasshopper still in mouth, to sit on his master’s shoulder and peer down at Netha.

    “S’pose you missed us,” Ash drawled as he swung off Verity. “Not like we were gone all that long even. Should I feel loved?”

    They ate that way, after the important business of hatchy petting and hippogryph preening had been attended to; Jelleneth leaning back against Ash, Ilthus resting his back on the tree, and Chry bouncing between them to lean on first one shoulder and then another. The conversation bounced around as well; skipping lightly over the Sapphire’s most recent mission complete with a fairly accurate, if unflattering, impersonation of their stuffy client by Ash; lingering for a while on Chry’s most recent exploits in service to the Bronze flight. Drawings were produced and studied. Sooty flitted from elf to elf, begging tidbits and affection and attention; finally, when stuffed, he settled in Ilthy’s hair to preen himself and doze. Through it all, sliding past the childish jealousy she was fighting so hard to quash, came an old familiar feeling that nonetheless took her some time to identify if only from lack of recent experience. Family. This little gathering of misfits laughing and cuddling in the fading light of the afternoon felt like a family and the pristine woods of Eversong felt, once again, like home.

    The realization made her quiet and introspective as they packed up the basket and blanket for the ride into the city. She turned Tyr loose to chase after the younger wild hawks roaming the woods and rode double with Ash on Verity’s back. Ilthus, his hair twined with flowers and sprinkled with bug bits, took up a seat behind Chry, leaning forward to nip playfully at the younger elf’s ear as he started the engine on the bike.

    “They really are cute together. Aren’t they?” Jell murmured softly, resting her back against Ash.

    Ash murmured softly in non-reply, his attention shifting from her to the youngsters for a moment. “Got their moments,” he said finally. “You still bothered by it?”

    She chuckled and turned a bit to look up at him. “Not for the same reasons. And not nearly so much as I was.” She let out a soft sigh and shifted in the saddle, turning her attention back to the road. “I think I can cope with it.”

    “That’s good, I s’pose. Hate for em to feel pressured to stop on account of your disapproval. Still -- we best catch up with em if we don’t want your brother to waylay the kid in some alley on the way to the shops, hm?”

Another chuckle, accompanied by a teasing earflick. “Yes. I suppose we’d best. Not proper for a young couple to be seen out roaming together without a proper escort hmm? People might talk.”

    “Yes, thank the Light we have the two of em to keep us honest.” He leaned forward to almost-nip at her ear, drawing back before she could move away. “Gotta save your brother from House scandal... while you’re still in it.”

    Her mumbled reply was lost in the rush of wind as Verity took to the air to chase after the bike. She closed her eyes to savor the feeling and did not open them again until the sounds of the city pulled her back to watchfulness. Somewhere, among the lovely gilded buildings and carefully swept streets was a Magister who wished them ill. Until that problem was resolved, Silvermoon was a place to be ever on guard. That knowledge made the elves who passed them seem sinister, the Arcane Guardians threatening. She was tense and frowning by the time they reached the tailor’s.

    Her smile was not difficult to find again once they got inside. The Master Tailor was occupied with an important client and so they were greeted by one of his younger apprentices; an infectiously enthusiastic youth, perhaps a decade or so younger than Chryseth. He bounced about the shop, chattering brightly all the while, and fetching samples of fabric for them to feel, pausing only to hold a swatch of colored cloth up beside the mage’s hair or Ash’s cheek with a critical frown before moving to the next. He seemed entirely enthusiastic about the ‘unique challenges’ presented by Chryseth and Ilthus. The mage would need robes that could give his stick thin frame the sort of regal and imposing air appropriate to a House Lord (while leaving ample room in the chest for a hatchling to nest) and the scout insisted that robes, in his case, were out of the question because he would hate for the guests to be confused as to who the bride was. As for the groom... well, Jelleneth could only smile at the young apprentice’s enthusiasm. It must be a delight, she thought, to have the chance to paint wedding colors on a canvas as lovely as Ash.

    Rapt as she was in watching the fitting, she failed to notice the pair of voices from below growing louder and closer until the men were already walking into the room behind her and the conversation stopped dead in mid sentence. She turned to see her eldest brother standing in the doorway beside the master tailor and staring at the three elves, all draped in cloth and being fussed over by the young apprentice, with an expression that was not at all friendly.

It was Ashrien who reacted first, all smiles and friendliness perfectly masking whatever true sentiments he might have held. “Ah, Lord Dawnsinger. Was hopin’ to run into you before we made our final choices here. What a lucky day, eh?”

    The eldest Dawnsinger shifted his gaze from his brother to his future brother-in-law and some of the iciness left it, the genial (if patronizing) mask falling into place instead. “Dawnforged.” He said with a curt nod, then he turned to the tailor again. “I shall leave the finer details to your discretion but expect the matter to be resolved before the Lunar Festival.”

    The man’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he simply bowed. “As you would have it, Lord Dawnsinger.” His eyes fell on his apprentice as he rose and he moved the the younger elf’s side to inspect his work. His ears, however, remained quirked toward the conversation.

    Jelleneth rose from her seat and stepped in to offer her brother a hug which he accepted stiffly, though more from surprise than distaste. “Sorry for the lack of notice,” she said softly. “I should have written. I just wasn’t sure if we would be staying in the city long enough for a visit when this was through.” She gestured back toward the fitting. Every word was true, though Torian did not necessarily need to know why the visit might have been, might still be, truncated.

And he did not ask. Simply nodded, brushing her hair back and pressing his lips to her forehead. “I would appreciate notice in the future. I could have arranged for a dinner to be prepared.” The moment of pleasantness was spoiled by a derisive snort from Ilthus that caused Torian’s head to shoot back up and his eyes to lock coldly on his brother yet again. “You have something to contribute, Ilthus?”

“I never have anything to contribute, Tor. Haven’t you made that clear enough?” There was no rancor in the words, the tone almost teasing, but the young apprentice still cleared his throat and moved off to busy himself with cloth samples again.

“Next time,” Chry said, his gaze flicking from elf to elf and finally settling uneasily on the apprentice, “we could go out to dinner, Wren? So Netha and Dori if we bring him and Torian can...” His voice wavered and he looked again to Torian, not quite meeting the older elf’s eyes. “Family stuff. Without barroom brawls.”

Torian, oblivious as ever, shook his head with a sigh. “One would hope that the appeal of such antics would begin to fade with maturity.” His eyes sought out the mage’s and failed to capture them. A small frown tugged at his lips before they set again into a thin line. “You are, of course, always welcome to join us at any time, Lord Keenblaze. Though if you and my brother have other plans for this evening there is a matter I wished to discuss with Sir Dawnforged. In private.”

The mage looked to the knight before replying -- the merest of glances was enough. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. We have a prior engagement,” Chry said quietly. “Expecting us back for dinner, you know how it is.” He flicked his fingers at the group to indicate a rather inclusive us. “B-but your hospitality is noted, Lord Dawnsinger, and I regret that I c-cannot reciprocate.”

Another frown. “I see.” He straightened a bit and took a step back from Jelleneth, whose gaze was now quite firmly on Ash; watching and weighing his reactions. “It seems that I must be the one to... make an appointment, as it were. When it best suits your, understandably strained...” and he gestured at the robes the older elf was, even now, being fitted for. “...schedule.”

Ash nodded, that pleasant smile still firmly in place. “Hard to say where we’ll be for the next weeks. Work to finish up in Kalimdor, arrangements to be made. Perhaps...” And he looked to Jelleneth, one brow arched questioningly. “Perhaps you’d be able to come by the Sapphire some night? That’d be much more convenient for me than a trip to Quel’thalas, I’m afraid.”

Torian turned his gaze to the Sapphire’s captain. “I can free an evening in the next few days. Where is she docked?” The flash of near panic that crossed Jell’s face was not missed by her brother.

“Uh...” Her eyes flicked over to Ash, just for a moment. Torian didn’t miss that either.

    “Quel’danas for now -- had business there, but the kid’s slingshotting us back westwards for a few days for work and then back thisaway to talk to the fellow performing the ceremony. Things to discuss with him and all. Perhaps we could hook up with you then?” This was all, of course, pulled out of thin air. There were no such plans; before they’d stepped into the store, they hadn’t even gotten so far as to decide what they were doing for dinner. But here it was, Mister Rien in full steam all earnest and flying free. He kept half an eye on Netha, keen to notice any unease or displeasure at these it’s what we were planning all along, honest plans.

    Torian’s attention was also rather firmly riveted on Jelleneth and her reactions, and for the most part, she took the improvised ‘plan’ in stride, though a bit of relief leaked into her eyes and the set of her shoulders. Torian’s expression hardened back into the placid nobleman’s mask. “Yes. I think that would suit. Will you come here or shall I meet with you in the south.” His voice was neutral, but still he managed to give the word ‘south’ a mountain of unpleasant implications.

    Ash earquirked and a bit of coldness seeped into his eyes. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to inflict disagreeable company on anyone. I think it had be best for us to return here, if we don’t end up sailing back to Kalimdor.”

    Ilthus stretched and shrugged off the loosely pinned cloth that had been draped over him. “I’ll stay a few days even if they don’t. Have a few things I need to do here in the city before we sail west again. Business.” The tone was casual, but his eyes stayed locked on Torian and seemed to be asking a question. Whatever it was, he got no answer.

    “Your room is as you left it.” Lord Dawnsinger replied, stone faced. “I will be out most evenings. Business.”

    Jelleneth slipped over to stand nearer to Ash, not bothering to mask her anxiety or her discomfort. Her hand sought his, though her eyes stayed on her brothers.

    “Oh sure, invite them over for dinner and then be out all night,” Chry mumbled. It was more than loud enough to carry, however, and Ash looked over at him again. There wasn’t much of a rebuke on the paladin’s face -- more tired amusement than anything else -- and Chryseth went on. “Maybe if they’d known you wouldn’t be there, they would have regretted not being able to say yes.”

    Ilthus smirked and Torian stiffened, bearing himself up to his full height, stiff backed and haughty. “I have words for Lord Quel’wythar as well. Do pass that message along when next you see him. For the moment, I have duties elsewhere. Safe travels.” With a curt nod to the group and a meaningful look directed at the tailor he turned towards the door.

    “Light guide you, Dawnsinger,” Ash said. That at least was sincere, though sincerity was perhaps indistinguishable from the rest of him. “I hope the company you keep the rest of the night is pleasanter than the kid here.” And that was spoken fondly enough, but there was still a slight edge of rebuke buried inside.

    Torian paused for a moment in the doorway, head turning slightly toward Ash, though his eyes locked, instead, on Ilthus. “There is a party this evening. At Brightwren Manor. The company promises to be amicable.” And now it was Ilthus’ turn to stiffen, ears suddenly pressing back. Torian noticed, and a ghost of a smile danced across his lips. He turned his eyes to Ash. “Light keep you, Dawnforged.” Somehow, from the Blood Knight, the words sounded very little like a blessing.

    “Oh, it is ever with me. We sort of keep each other.” The words were a bare murmur, though, and might not have reached Torian before he left.

    Whether he heard or not, Torian made no reply and Jelleneth managed to keep the growled obscenity behind her teeth until he was well away.

    “Ain’t it always nice to run into family?” Ash said, still in that quiet thoughtful voice.

    “How would you know?” Chry asked. “You haven’t got any.”

    “Neither have you, kid. Anyhow, each and every day I am ever so thankful to not run into the family I ain’t got. You have no idea how heartfelt I mean that.” Ashrien reached over to ruffle the mage’s hair, a wry smile on his lips. “Imagine the awkward if we were to encounter Torian and my aunties in the same place at the same time? Though it’d raise some questions about what he was doin’ there, I suppose.”

    Ilthus had fallen into a brooding silence, leaning his back against the wall, facing the door and waving away the apprentice’s offer to resume the fitting. Jelleneth did not move closer to him, but her eyes asked a question and his answered it, even if that answer was just, “Later.” It was enough. She turned her attention back to the fitting, watching Ash’s eyes bounce from the mirror to her face with each addition or alteration to his garment. She smiled back at him each time he glanced over, making no attempts to mask the pleasure she took in watching him.

    They left the shop with two new robes and a promise from Ilthus that he would return to be fitted for his own in the next few days. The stars were out by the time they reached the city gates and Jelleneth stopped to smile up at them and breathe in the sweet smell of the grass and the trees. Then she turned to the group with her Captain’s mask on. “I think we should move the ship. Take her around the horn, anchor her off the coast of the Eastern Plaguelands. Near Acherus. Unless you think that would get us shot at or boarded?” This last she directed at Chryseth.

    The mage fidgeted a bit, eyes and ears going uneasy. “I can’t speak for them, you know.” Then he sighed and ran a hand back through his hair, let down for the fittings. “I don’t think they’d have any reason to be hostile. Course, there are some crazy Scarlets in the area but I don’t believe they have ships to board with. I’ll swing by and set up some wards -- I think I owe you a dinner now, might as well make a night of it if you want.” He smiled but it was wavering .

    The smile she gave him in return was warm, if a touch sad. “Love to have you, of course, but I don’t want to hold you if you’re expected at home.”

    “I think -- it is getting a bit late, I can go have dinner and tell him I’m going out for a bit. Even invite him along?” He plowed on without waiting for an answer. “I think it’ll be okay. We can go somewhere safe if you’re of a mind to leave the Sapphire for a bit.”

    “She should be safe enough in those waters, I should think. One small ship probably won’t be seen as a threat. And it’s not like we’ll be firing towards the shore.” Her eyes drifted over to Ilthus for a moment, still distant and frowning. “Come back as far as the ship with us?” The request was quiet but there was a note of urgency to it.

    “Sure,” Chry said, surprised. He followed her gaze and stepped a bit closer to the rogue, reaching out to almost touch his hand. “Til you’re in open water if you want.”

    A ghost of a smile flickered across the rogue’s face as he flexed his fingers, letting them brush softly against Chry’s. Then he turned to head for the rocket without a word.

    Back on the ship there was work to be done, sails to trim, crew to rouse and fees to be paid before the Sapphire could get underway again. Once she was sailing steady the Captain called her brother down from the tops and the four of them clustered near the wheel. Ilthus was quiet for a moment, staring out to sea, ears quirked to be sure that the rest of the crew were safely below decks or too far up in the rigging to overhear. After a moment he said, quite softly. “He knows.”

    Ash mmfed quietly and turned to rest his arms on the rails. “I still wouldn’ be surprised if he was partly behind it,” he said. “Not that I have reason to think he is, but -- fel. I don’t think I’d be wise to trust him. Correct me f’ I’m wrong, please.”

    A frown from Ilthus, a shrug. “Could be the little private chat he suddenly wants to have with you is on some unrelated topic. But I wouldn’t bet on that strider to place.”

    “Just because he wants to talk to me about it don’t mean he’s waiting to sell me out. Still. Can’t help but feel he might think this is a golden opportunity, nice little way to do right by his people an’ get a nuisance out of the way in one smooth cut. Can’t marry his baby sister if, I dunno, I’m bein’ held as a pet or worse by some magister, can I?” Ash laughed, an unhappy bark. “I doubt him knowin’ I’m in some sort of trouble makes him want to give charity an’ be helpful. Helpful to me that is.”

    “Still..” Jelleneth cut in, voice soft and uncertain. “He gave us the name, didn’t he?”

    lthus snorted. “He gave us a name. No promises it was the right one. Could be he just picked one to throw at me to prove a point.”

    Ash nodded. “Or to throw us off the scent, or to see how we react -- almost certainly that, since gettin’ more information is a boon to him no matter his plans. An’ the way you reacted to it tells him more than a little. Mnf. Where do you want to go from here?” He looked between the two Dawnsingers, his expression slipping into a thoughtful but indifferent mask.

    Jelleneth nibbled at her lower lip for a moment, frowning. “We talk. On our own terms. In a place of our choosing. But we talk. I...” She shook her head, turning her face away from the group and toward the sea. “I’m not going to write him off as an enemy until I know for sure. Tor’s a jerk. But he’s still family. I’m willing to take the risk of trusting that that still means something to him.”

    Ash let out a soft breath and looked away too, tilting his head back to watch the darkening sky. “As you will,” he murmured. He started to go on but cut it off, shaking his head a little. “As you will.”

    She took a long, slow, deep breath. “You asked what I wanted. It wasn’t an order, just a preference. Open to contrary opinions if you have some to voice.” She looked over at Chry and Ilthus. “Any of you.”

    Chry mumbled something entirely incoherent, cleared his throat, and tried again. “All I know is, if you end up wanting security for whatever it is, I’ll do my best to help provide it. And you don’t need to worry about me doing things outside Magistry law, considering I’m not really bound by it.”

    Mmmf again from Ash. His gaze slid from the stars to Jelleneth, and he gave her a sad smile. “I never once doubt that Torian is family, Netha. Thing is...” And he hesitated, looking from her to Ilthy and back. “Thing is, he’s your family. I got every faith he’ll do what he thinks is best for you, and I admit that’s what worries me.”

    There. It was out in the open.

    “He has a point, Netha.” Ilthus said, moving up to place a hand on her shoulder. “And Tor’s record doesn’t speak to him having learned any lessons about trusting family to make their own choices.”

    “So, what then?” There was frustration in her voice now. And pain. “What do we do? How do we handle this? You tell me.” Her eyes flicked from her brother to Ash and back again.

    “I think you had the right idea but -- but optimistic reasons, Netha. We do talk to him, we do it on our terms. With security an’ my offhand there. I got no faith he means to be good to me, but I do think we can get some useful information from him still. I know you might want to trust him -- but Netha, love, if he’d wanted to keep true to me he would have considered takin’ me into his House. That was off the table from the start.”

    Ilthus’ eyes widened slightly, but then his face slipped into a pleased grin. Netha’s, however, was still pained. “I...” she began, then shook her head and turned away again. “Alright.” A sigh and she straightened, mask back in place. “We have a few days wiggle room. We’ll use that to make sure we’re not going into this little chat blind. Find out as much as we can about how much he knows and who he’s been talking to about it, if anyone. I suppose that task has to fall to you, Ilthus.”

    “No. It doesn’t.” The soft voice from the stairs made her start and spin to face the source, hand falling instinctively to the gun at her hip. She relaxed again immediately though, when she realized it was only Jessian. He managed a lopsided, weary smile. “No offense, Ilthus... Ash, but that sort of digging is best done a bit higher up. Might as well use that access while I still have it, hmm?”

    “Netha, that wasn’t orders neither. If it makes you uneasy, I’m open to discussion.” Ash nodded to Jess, a more-than-polite incline of the head. “Quel’wythar, his nibs wanted to speak to you too. As for me, well. If you choose to offer aid, I’d be most grateful. I just wish I knew how to do the same for you.”

    Jessian waved that off with a shrug. “Nothing to be done for it. And no call to blame yourself. If this Magister hadn’t found that noose to tighten round my neck to watch me flail and turn my attention away from his plotting, some other would have done it just to line his own pockets.” He moved to stand beside the Captain, one arm held wide, an invitation she accepted without hesitation, slipping into his embrace and hiding her face against his chest.

    Chryseth watched this, shifting again from foot to foot and finally stepping toward Jess and Netha. He kept his eyes on the ranger’s face -- another step, and then he diverted himself to Ilthus, reaching out to give him an entirely unasked-for hug. The rogue chuckled and ruffled his hair though his eyes stayed on Jessian. “Planning to join us for dinner Quel’wythar?”

    “If I’m welcome,” the ranger murmured, lips brushing along Jelleneth’s hair, eyes closed. “Don’t want to intrude.”

    “Oh, well, if you’re gonna be there I’m afraid I have urgent business I must attend to. Directly. All night.” Ash grinned and winked, more at Ilthus than Jessian. “Don’t be silly. Least, you won’t be intrudin’ on me, Ilthy asked if you wanted to come, Netha hardly looks as if you could do anythin’ to intrude on her at the moment, and the kid...”

    “The kid,” Chry said, voice slightly muffled in Ilthy’s hair, “likes having you around. Actually both kids do. I might see if Dori wants to come too, unless we’ve got sensitive things to talk about over food.”

    Jell picked her head up, though she didn’t step away just yet. “Dori can hear whatever we have to say.” Firm voiced. No questioning it. That was an order. “We can trust him. And he doesn’t need to be sheltered from anything.” She stepped back now and Jessian let her go. She smoothed out her hair and took a deep breath before turning to look at Chry. “Invite him. Levh too, if he’s willing. It’s been too long since we’ve all been around a table together.” Like a family. She didn’t say it. Didn’t have to. The words were in her voice and in her eyes, all but painted across her face.

    “I’ll ask him,” Chry agreed. “He probably won’t come -- this time of night he’s usually... ready to wind down for the day.” He gave Ilthy’s hair another nuzzle and stepped away. “I’ll go see about that and meet you guys -- down by the coast off Acherus? And I will bring Dori, I promise.”

    Ilthus chased after an ear for a nibble as the mage stepped away, flashing him a predatory grin before turning his attention to Jess, nodding toward the stairs and the warm glow coming from the galley as soon as he’d caught the nobleman’s eye. Jessian nodded and followed.

    Chry was gone in a flash. The scent of ozone hung in the air for a few brief moments before the sea-smells swept it away, but the arcane tingle lingered longer. Ash’s nostrils flared and he took it in for a few heartbeats before turning to Jelleneth, offering her his arms as Jess had before. “I’m sorry, love,” he murmured. “I would things were different.”

    “You’re right,” she said softly as she stepped into him. “I hate that you’re right. But you’re right. This is how things are. But this...” She reaches a hand up to trace along his cheek. “This I wouldn’t change. Not for anything in all the world. I just wish...” A sigh, and she snuggled back in against him.

    “I wish it too, Netha. An’ if I turn out to be wrong, I’ll be rejoicin’.” He kissed her fingers softly and gave her a smile. “Now, captain, any aid I can give in puttin’ us safe to sea?”

    She closed her eyes and pulled him close for a moment. “Just stay with me.”

    “You hardly need to ask that,” he said. “Course I will.”

Mostly I apologize to my current roommate. But also to anyone who has ever or might ever have to live with me in the future ever.

I.. uh.. I'm very very sorry. For just. Well.. this is a thing. It's an inevitable part of cohabitation with me, I think. Sometimes, you will have to endure me in the early stages of my learning something. And I am very unpleasant in those times. I know this. I just have a very unhealthy learning process. It involves a great deal of stress and self-loathing. And I blame my litle brother for this.

Because I have this stupid, childish, annoying part of my brain that thinks that I should just be able to DO things. The way my brother has always seemed to be able to. Musical instrument he's never touched before and sheet music he has no idea how to read? Give him six hours and he'll be playing better than the guy who took it up eight years before. Swing dancing? Sure! He'll show up for two nights of the come-as-you-are freestyle dancing and walk away with moves it took most of his dance partners months to learn. Video games? ahahahahaasfdahfdsh.. yeah.

And I can't do this. I KNOW that I can't do this. I have to learn things like a normal person. But still.. I got left with this annoying little voice in the back of my head screaming how horribly fucking UNFAIR that is. And it does. Loudly. Every single time I start trying to learn something new.

So.. my learning process usually goes something like this:
1.)Try new thing.
2.)Fail utterly at new thing.
3.)Hate self for failing because it should be so lolez.
4.)Go look up guides and strats and various helpful things other people have written on HOW 2 THING.
5.)Still fail because muscle memory is not there yet and practice is required and also I am bad and fail at EVERYTHING and I hate myself so very very much.
6.)Flail and hate self more and consider abandoning thing and also everything remotely connected to thing and maybe just killing myself because am worthless and always will be.
7.)Get angry at thing and stubbornly refuse to be beaten by it.
8.)Invest far too much of my own self worth in getting competent at thing. (Seriously. There was a 4 week period of my life where my entire value as a human being completely hung on my ability to master buffering Calamity Symphony on Ivy in SC2.)
9.)Obsessively keep doing thing over and over and over and over and over again while continuing to hate self and flail and cry and sometimes throw things.
10.)Eventually achieve enough competence at thing that I feel I can stop caring quite so much about it and just settle into feeling that I am not and never will be actually any good at thing and hate myself just a tiny bit for that forever.
11.)Discover new thing to try.

This cycle has been going on pretty much my entire life. I have no idea how to actually break it. Once or twice (like with the Ivy thing) I have let myself quit because there was no one else I knew personally at the time who had mastered that combo yet either. But mostly, no. I cannot quit a thing just because it is making me hate myself. Because that just proves... something. I don't know. Maybe that my brother is just better than me. And that idea has always pissed me off no matter how very true I have always known it to be. Maybe because of that. Anyway. Yeah. Really sorry. Try not to smother me with a pillow while I sleep.