Worrying Over Nothin’

Zaliron wasn’t mad ’bout me seeing his mother, wasn’t mad ’bout the potion, wasn’t even mad that I kissed Kaste. He told me that he didn’t blame me for it, that I couldn’t be held ‘ccountable for the effects of a potion, and then said something with “ain’t” and everything. I don’t even think he’s gonna smear Achates ‘cross a wall or nothin’!

I helped pick up his house after the recent mess, and I realize that I’m seein’ it like a… home. It’s scary and dizzyin’, really. This ain’t something that I can… leave at any time, not anymore. I can’t just get up and walk away.

He said he loved me.

I want to know that I love him too. I think I’m broken, ’cause every time I think ’bout what love means, all I can think of is loyalty. I’m loyal ’nuff to put even some’ve those Blood Knights and Priests to shame, so that ain’t the problem. Is that what love is? Loyalty so strong I’d drown in my own blood rather’n see him like he was when Arathael hurt him?

I think…

I think things are gonna work.

Love Potion?

There are times when I think Achates gets run down a little too much, that he’s well meaning enough, even if it backfires.

Other times I think I’d like to string him up and light a fire under his feet.

I’m not even so angry as I am just… kind’ve shamed. It ain’t gonna be pretty explaining things to Zaliron. ‘Oh yes, you see, while you were hurtin’ and alone at the Inn, I was in your house… making rather obscene advances on Kaste. Sorry ’bout that, no harm done?’

I don’t see it goin’ over well, love potion excuses or not.

Events are cowards. Can’t ever fight alone.

Mazikeen sits in the corner of a small inn room, exhausted and slumped in her chair. The journal is open on her lap, and it seems to take a great force of will for her to move the quill tip across the pages. A little further off a figure sleeps fitfully on the bed, tossing and mumbling.

It started a few nights ago. Alkaiser said he wanted to speak with Zaliron, and I s’pose I just figured it’d be a few harsh words. Guilt ain’t anything new to me, but I should’ve done something. My luck though, interfering then would’ve just made the situation worse.

He didn’t show up at his house that night, and I guess I didn’t think much of it. I know what it’s like to have business that runs over-long. The next day I found a note in my mail from Verrin, the new mage, askin’ me to meet him. It was as vague as that, and curiosity ain’t something that can be easily denied.

He wants me to teach him how to fight dirty. I don’t know what to make of him, only that something ’bout him makes me feel uncomfortable–not because he don’t understand what I am, but because he does. I… well, to make short of it, ’cause it ain’t my primary concern right now, I said yes.

A voice rose from the corner–murmuring something incoherent about demons and fear. Mazikeen roughly brushed a tear from the corner of her eyes, which fell and smudged the ink on the paper.

I can’t believe what they did to him. It ain’t right, you can’t… Gods. I talked to Alkaiser even, and I’ve never imagined myself as someone to do anything like the sort (I might not be the most ardent follower, but I try to keep my peace, ’specially under leaders).

A leader doesn’t break someone that pledges their life to him–or allow a second-in-command like Arathael to do it. It’s… it’s pathetic and wrong and the worst kind’ve betrayal. And I know what it looks like–I go to Alkaiser and he assumes that it’s just ’cause me and Zaliron take our nights together. I ain’t stupid. I know that Zaliron is arrogant, and I know it’s gotta be fixed.

But they didn’t do that. He’s… he can’t even go near demons. He’s been staying in an inn.

Damn them both.

Damn myself for not being more forceful when I talked to Alkaiser. I shouldn’t've settled for what he thought were rational words. He made a mistake. Nobody ever deserves to be hurt like that by someone they’re s’posed to trust. My faith in the leadership of the Guard suffered s’first blow, and I guess for that it stings even more.

I got Zaliron to come out here to Farstrider Retreat, away from Silvermoon. Fetched a few pillows and robes for him, tryin’ to help him get comfortable. Looked like something had ripped through the house, and his demons weren’t happy that I didn’t leave ‘em with any answers. I ain’t much’ve one for conversing with demons, and the only thing I could tell ‘em was to wait some more. And at least get the damned door back on its hinges.

I want to protect Zaliron, and I want to see him better, but I’m sore over some of Alkaiser’s words. He told me that I was a good influence on Zaliron, and I wanted to spit something hard and mean back in his face, but I was too busy cowering and being ’sensible’. I wish people weren’t so damned sure that I’m a good person–well, I mean, it ain’t my job to fix anyone. I don’t want that responsibility. I can’t bear that responisibility.

‘Sides, why in the Nether should it be MY job, or ANYone’s job, to fix the messes of our humble, righteous leaders?

And now? Now I’m angry. All I can do is sit and seethe while the rest’ve the Guard take their digs at Zaliron, and if I speak he looks weaker, or I look over-protective.

Part of me doesn’t care. Part of me wants to say to the Nether with ‘em all, and the next one with a snide comment about Zaliron will get their tongue skewered to the roof of their mouth.

I want to see him strong again.

I will see him strong again. The rest’ve ‘em can choke on dynamite. I’d even be so kind as to light the fuse.

Mazikeen sighs, the momentary rush of anger fading and leaving her with less energy than before. She closes the journal, tosses it back into a bag near her feet. Looking around, it is still very dark inside of the room, save for a few small candles near the bed (she didn’t want Zaliron to wake up in darkness in the middle of the night)–it won’t be morning for a few more hours.

And, from her seat, she knows they will be long hours. Thinking hours. She leans her head back to the wall behind the chair, and watches over the troubled Warlock.

She does not sleep.

The Drag, Concussions, and Ice Deflectors

I was on my way through Orgrimmar earlier tonight when I came across the body of another Sin’dorei lying on the ground. She was sprawled out in the Drag, not too far before where I woulda turned to restock my poisons. I didn’t know what to think–well, I could tell she wasn’t dead, mostly because that’s a habit you get when you’ve seen enough corpses, but I didn’t know if it was just some woman stone drunk, or if she was hurt.

Turns out it was the latter.

Also turns out that she weren’t a stranger: the woman’s name is Cable, and I knew her from the deliveries from House Esteri. I didn’t realize this till I’d already seen and felt the blood on her, but I guess it wouldn’t've changed things anyhow. I couldn’t leave no one bleedin’ to death in the middle of a city street.

Mazikeen realizes that she doesn’t actually know how to feel about that last statement–doesn’t know whether or not it’s actually true. For safety’s sake, she crosses it out.

I bandaged her up, checked her eyes. Pretty sure she had a concussion, so I did what I needed to. Had to smash up one’ve my ice deflectors (a nifty device that engineering has granted me skill with) to get at the frost oil inside. Worked out better than I had planned: froze a strip’ve wool solid in seconds! I wrapped that up a bit in some more cloth, and I think it helped keep the swelling down.

Her arm was pretty banged up, even more’n the rest’ve her body. When she was coherent again, she told me that it’d been a Tauren that’d done a number on her. I believe that much’ve it, though I’m sure she was trying to downplay any provokin’ that might’ve been done on her part. I don’t know enough ’bout any of it to make no conclusions, but none of it sits well with me.

When I got her to her feet, we went up to the local Orgrimmar doctor. She weren’t none too happy to be treated by an Orc, but that’s her own problem–I ain’t gonna coddle no one’s prejudice, ’specially when it’s impractical. After all, when all was said and done, the Orc fixed her up a good one. She’ll be able to hold a sword again, at least.

I s’pose I’ll send her something to help make her feel better. I sent Achates some tea a while back, and that seemed to help him with his cold. Maybe it’ll do something for Miss Cable.

Mostly though, I’m expectin’ her to turn around and bite the hand that helped her. I won’t take it none too personally, of course. I guess if I was from a fancy House that maybe I’d resent being helped by one’ve the lower, workin’ folk. All I know is that I did my duty as a Blood Elf, and as a member of the Silverguard.

Dunno. Maybe it just felt good to be helping instead of hurting for a time.

Just Passin’ Time

The Faire, even if it wasn’t all set up, was a welcome break from the rest’ve the world.  We tossed a few balls back and forth, and acted like people that ain’t in the business of violence for a living.

Zaliron got hammered, and much as maybe I should’ve warned him off drinking anymore, I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. Whenever someone gets drunker than hell and falls all over himself, I dunno, there’s something ’bout it that takes the evil out’ve him. I mean, he was there lying in the dirt and rambling! Maybe I’ve been worrying over nothin’, right?

And damn, I’m fine with that, even if it’s got the taste of denial to it.