Unto the Lady Maniae Lahrohnshah Alah'dorei
Court of the Sun, Silvermoon City, Eversong Woods
My dear Lady,
Parting, as the minstrels sing, is a bittersweet gem. One that sparkles in one's memory, of what is past and held cherished, of hopeful possibilities of paths crossing again and the unavoidable emptiness of the time between that so definite then and some indefinable future when.
To walk beneath jewel stitched tapestries, through veils as fine as azure moonlight. To smile and nod, eyes bright as the sun, at the pleasantries of wine flavored conversation. A tidbit here, a tidbit there and it of course it really didn't matter what you were saying as much as who you were saying it to.
How can there be shadows in such splendor? When a paladin's polished armor sends rainbows skittering across the grand concourse? How can there be but promise, when whispered conversations over the ritual draining of a mana eel grant alliances and set betrayals far deeper reaching than any garrison chess game?
Oh remember it so well, how can one not? The ballroom floor, the light from untold crystals arcane. The three beat rhythm matching the pace of one's heart as in a grand orchestrated pavane across the polished stone one twirled. Skirts flaring dramatically, hands held formal, chaste, yet still, bound together with chains unspoken as biting as the coldest dark iron.
And knowing that, upon that brilliant waltz, the brightest gem, that, that was how they saw you.
The minstrels, my dear lady, are wrong.
I am no one’s gem.
We shall not meet again.
I am through with glitter and whimsy, my patience for affections finally as empty and dry as the dust which blows through the Thousand Needles.
The world I want to know is real. I want to live in a place where steel cuts and there is blood, and it hurts. It hurts because it is actual, and it can be felt not just in the mind and heart but right to the bone.
I want to be a real person and not an actor in somebody else's play.
I don't want to be you anymore.
Signed,
Maniae Lahrohnshah Alah'dorei
Setting down her pen, she looked at her missive. She held the finely illuminated parchment in her fingers.
And slowly, and studiously, and carefully she watched it shimmer, heard the oh so faint crackling as it became engulfed in a dance of orange, yellow and ash when she held it to the candle.
"Good bye Lady Alah'dorei."
The slender woman turned, arms clasp at the small of her back as she slowly sashayed towards the door. It was a bright rectangle of light saffron, the plains sunlight blurring its jamb, a portrait of possibilities that only needed stepping through. Outside, outside she looked to the side, a smile crossing her contenance as she reached down to pat her patient felhunter between its long and deadly horns. She crouched, skritching the scales of the crimson demon, down across the line of his sharp fanged jaw. The fel beast's tail swished back and forth, scattering through the dandelions to send sparkles of all gray all about in gay abandon.
"... and hello Kree ..
Melor,
We know the Earthmother holds patience as a virtue, something we should learn and cultivate within ourselves, to maintain both inner and outer peace, to truly understand the harmony of earth, wind, storm and fire.
We also know that the Earthmother does put trials before us, to test out heart and hooves of her teachings. These trials allow us to seek the answers to resolve the strife and discourse found not only in the plains as they reach across the worlds but within our own very hearths.
And then there are times when you just try my patience!
Now, as I consider crossing the camps to beat some sense into that tiny brain of yours with multiple pummelings of my skillet, can I ask you just what in all the rivers and stream just what were you thinking?
No, don't answer that.
You weren't thinking.
Again.
Reach out to our brothers and sisters in the Horde. Just because they don't have horns doesn't mean they can't learn the serenity of our teachings.
That blood elf girl was back.
Dragging the carcass of a big bear behind her.
Now, we all know that's fine. Circle of life and all that, and the bear did need to be put down. That's not the problem.
Of course she rested in my shelter. Bright sparkling drinking water, cool nectar to revive her from her travels. She was quiet, contemplative and even serene. Until she reached into her pack and brought out her midday meal. You would not believe the stampede, the ground slamming, the horn posturing and the earsplitting bellows that exploded when she carefully unwrapped and took a big, healthy bite out of her roasted beast sandwich.
"What?"
She said.
She then looked down to her meal and you could see the dominoes of logic fall into place.
So what was her reply?
"... oh don't be silly ...
" ... it's nobody you know ... "
Melor.
This is all your fault.
In the Earthmother's path,
Paha
Later that afternoon a different sort of bellows was heard in Thunder Bluff.
That of someone running away from an angry innkeeper and her blackened frying pan.
Very fast.
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