#Pandarian

[nicopossum]

Red panda snoozin'.... Imma put a pillow under that branch juuuuuuust in case 💤

[scalecallerpeak]

I've been playing remix for those sweet event rewards and I'm really loving my new Pandarian Mistwalker Monk Màu

[lilenaart]

part 2 of a huge batch of headshots i did a while back.=D

[alystownart]

Drew my wife's WoW character!

[hereisfufu]

Anduin and Wrathion try to cook Pandarian food😋😋😋

It’s Kungfu ramen time!

And you can get this sticker from my Redbubble shop!

[safrona-shadowsun]

Daily Writing Challenge || May 2024

Day 1: Mysterious / Appearance (Gravekeeper)

Day 2: Agony/Embrace

Day 3: Shame/Favorite

Day 4: Drama

The Elysian Sojourn had grown in such a short amount of time, swelling with visitors especially since the discovery of the Dragon Isles. Even a few dragonkin had managed to make their way to the Sojourn, drawn by the offer of bathhouses and confessions, or to soar their way from the apex of the Veiled Stair’s mountainside retreat where the Sojourn was nestled in the Pandarian lands. Safrona had certainly made a home of it now. It was a point of pride for her, somewhere she could drop professional pretense and be comfortable in her skin.

Wraafenn even accompanied her openly here, the large hellhound sprawled out beside her signature booth like a most unusual canine, seemingly playing the slothful guardian. Despite the demon dog’s laid back demeanor, most visitors made sure to give Lady Shadowsun’s “pet” a wide berth out of sheer intimidation. Perhaps tonight, she had intended it that way. 

Waiting behind the red velvet curtains of the booth, she made sure to offer up the usual Highland Scotch and extended the invitation with a gentle pluck of the soul braided to her own: her Soulsinger. Going on 4 years as bonded, she weighed the confession she wanted to confide in her husband, but did not know how. Yet he was the only soul she could bare herself for so deeply.

Velvet notes echoed from steel wire as the final plucks creaked from his fingers, the usual performance ending for a much needed break. “Than’ ya’, we’re gonna take a lil’ break ta’ wet our palates an’ we’ll be back ta’ brin’ some music fa’ ya’ weary bones”, the man said before resting his ebony guitar on its pedestal, then walking slowly down the stairs into the darkness behind the stage. ”Take a breath’ lads, I need a smoke an’ a drin’.” After a few claps to his back, Orchid pulled a thin roll of parchment from a leather pouch, placing it to his lips before it began to burn a soft purple glow.

Sweet smoke smelling of wine slipped between his lips to his nostrils as if he was a dragon roiling a fire within his chest. The simplicity of music and the reverberation of joy that poured from the patrons of the Sojourn was intoxicating in a way Orchid’s soul needed in some dark way, like a spirit remaining so long as there were those that remembered it. As the sweet smoke enveloped his senses, he could feel the soft tugging of his soul, a beckoning longing for his attention. Four years, the longest relationship he held ever in his time on this planet; an irony that kept his intrusive thoughts from burgeoning his mind. Stealthing his way through the bar to the owner’s private booth, the smokey voice announced his presence before his silhouette did.

“ Wha’ can I do fa’ the finest lookin’ purveya’ of spirits I’ve eva’ seen? I ‘ope the music this evenin’ is ta’ ya’ likin’ as always.” His wide brimmed hat pushed past the curtain as he slid into the booth. A silver ashtray appeared beneath the slowly falling ash of his burning herb roll. Slowly taking the hat from his head, Orchid’s crimson hues slowly rose up the form of the woman before resting solely to meet his wife’s eyes. ”Don’ find ya’ hidin’ away ‘ere as often an’ definitely not wit’ ya’ puppy. Somethin’ wron’? Is there somethin’ I ‘ave ta’ ‘andle”, he asked with a cursory glance toward the patrons.

Safrona let a smile curl at the sound of his voice, her eyes glinting at him in the soft shadows of the booth with gentle humor. Words delivered on a warm air for him from a little tease of a smile: “You're always to my liking.” In consideration of his worry, a brief chuckle hummed between her lips. Her eyes lifted from him to settle on the pour of his scotch in the glass near her. “No need for your blades here, love. Wraa's mostly on display as a gentle reminder to not tempt the beastie into action, and that seems to work well enough, yes? People know the Sojourn is a place to relax. A place where they leave their violence at the gates.”

A soft inhale, and her fingers drifted back to the base of her flute of wine - deep, dark red, like the prominent hue of her long braid. “I'm here for confession. And like any soul with a tangle of words needing to be unwound from them, I desire that touch of privacy.” Safrona gestured to the booth seating beside or across from her invitingly. “I'd hope you'd help me untangle some secrets, find the right way through.”

A smile was offered in return as his hand moved toward the glass, caressing her fingertips before dragging the glass towards him. Despite wanting to sit beside her in the booth, the air of the word ‘Confession’ kept him in an unusual state, not one to get confessions from the living as Safrona was. Silently he swirled the scotch before bringing it to his lips, taking a subtle sip, running his tongue gently against his lips to enjoy the taste. “ It isn’ like ya’ ta’ be so tangled, physically an’ emotionally; least not when our garments linga’ on us.”

A knowing chuckle pulled from his lips as he sat forward, clasping his hands before him as he gazed at her softly. “ I accept ya’ offa’ of confession an’ will seek ta’ offa’ wha’ advice I can give or I can simply be an ear fa’ ya’. Whicheva’ this confession requires of me. But first, please, take a sip an’ calm ya’ nerves. No sense gettin’ worked up an’ frustrated befa’ the words even come, my heart.” Nudging his glass of scotch toward her, Orchid snapped his fingers and his garb shifted into more darkened priestly garments, his own unique style on the holy raiment.

“ So tell me; wha’ is it tha’ troubles ya’ so? I assume since ya’ askin’ me, it’s nothin’ b’tween us since ya’ wouldn’ seek confession wit’ me, simply seek me in our chambers an’ speak from the heart. Is it somethin’ wit’ the Couriers or otha’ business? Don’ know much about it but maybe I can offa’ an outside perspective.” Placing his clasped hands against hers to ultimately stroke the back of her hand with a finger, Orchid did his best to ease the tension he felt emanating from her.

Safrona gave an elegant tilt of her head for her lovely Shadow, both in acknowledgement and acceptance of his words and the offer back of the glass of scotch. Even as her fingers slipped around the cool glass, her eyes swept down his form as his clothing shifted, quietly enchanted by his trick. The man had always been a certain secret magic to her in voice, presence and deed. She found herself hiding her little adoring smile with the press of the glass as she sipped, weak smiles she had for him long before he claimed her heart as his own.

While drink was usually the catalyst for easing a confession from a burdened soul, it was the sweet smoke of his consideration that gradually settled her nerves, the simple touch of his hands. Though the curtain of anxiety that had been gathering over the past months still remained, somehow it felt drawn back, the flood beginning to start to drain. Allowing herself another exhale, her hand abandoned the glass for the comfort of the worship of his calloused fingertips.

“It’s all…a very fine drama buried. I try to cover it up with business.” A wry smile emerged now in admittance, murmuring. “You know I always do. Business is always, heh, easier, yes?” The wry chuckle escaped her smile, shaking her head as she continued carefully. Uncertainty gripped her, unsure of how much it felt right to reveal, even to her closest confidant. “You have not met my “sister” officially, and she has only heard the whispers of you. But she has tangled into my life very stubbornly since she found me. Enough to take my name, like you. She would say she is family now. And since the last summer passed, she has been…difficult. Childishly avoidant.” A dismay cooled the warmth of her murmur for him. “I did not bend when she pushed too far. But I am the one left with some pang of guilt, for it, somehow.”

A deep breath filled his chest as her fingers joined in the worship of his, lacing gently against the weathered calluses that lined his palms and fingertips. This subtle worship of theirs was some of the most intimate they shared, a gift of offering as tithe to the confession. Orchid kept his face stoic yet attentive, as to not project false intentions or understandings.

“I believe there is more to be said but I won’ condemn a name yet. So I’ll simply focus on ya’ instead of the situation first as I feel I’ve not all the information.” His hands clasped hers reassuringly in hopes of keeping her emotions calm.

 “Family is difficult - even they spirits when they come ta’ see ya’; one of the many joys of life eternal. Neitha’ of us ‘ave ‘ad much luck in the way of handlin’ family when people attempt ta’ get close. We see the negative,  ‘ow they could ‘arm us. It’s taken time fa’ me but no, not e’eryone is out ta’ get me. Doesn’ mean I’m not still vigilant against it. I’m not sure wha’ ‘appened m’love, but just from the first bits of information, could the guilt ya’ feel be tha’ given she is ya’ family, ya’ ‘ave a desire ta’ be close ta’ ‘er but the fear of ya’ supposed wickedness forces ya’ ta’ push ‘er away? Could it be in fact, despite ya’ constant shovin’ away an’ she truly wishes ta’ connect wit’ ya’, wants ta’ be a part of ya’ family as much as ya’ spirit wishes fa’ it, even if it believes it will brin’ nothin’ but ‘arm?”

An incisor bit the inside of his lip slightly, not for fear of pushing too hard or fearing reprisal but more of concern other beings would attempt to interject into the conversation, ones he had every desire of ending permanently. A hand of shadow made corporeal gently embraced a blade hidden in his jacket, waiting for the moment Safrona’s more intolerable servants decided to put her nose where it didn't belong. He stared at her with subtle worry, watching the etchings of muscles in her face for any movement, any twitch as to what thoughts swirled within her mind.

There was no interruption; outside the booth, few patrons carried on with the buzz of background conversations and laughter, most that visited the Sojourn sought to make use of private rooms and baths where they could relax singularly or with friends or lovers in the same privacy Safrona sought now. Wraafenn remained unmoving from his sprawled post just outside the booth, calm and satisfied to a point of lethargy. Even the Ethereal knew better than to disturb the Confession booth unless personally called upon. Saraj assured no wandering guest would bumble by and be a bother, enticing onlookers with the particularly magical expertise of his mixology with the interest of an order. 

The shadow of certain particular monsters of malice did not haunt the Sojourn or her mistress tonight either, thankfully. Just as his ever-aware instinct would lead him to his hidden blade, his wife’s fingers tightened into his own.

“Yes…” Safrona answered in quiet return behind a culpable smile, “every day is a challenge to cool the darker instinct in me and the hunger that follows in those tethered to me.” The nebulous light of her eyes watched his own for a long moment, and slowly fell to his chest. “You know it, in moments, yes? Sweet as it is for you to share it, the life I gave you comes with its acidic price, its increments of madness.” Her eyes remained fixed at his chest. “We are family in that way, bound to our little sin against nature. More than any other has been for me.”

The smile for him waned once more, drawing back up from the exposure of that thread of truth, now loose. “Wenne is…a story, a tale I let her tell me as I pretend to fill a role. I carefully digest it, and, yes, I do grow to care for the story, for the role she gives me. But the chapters of truth I hold? I accept she can never know them. Giving her those truths might as well be subjecting her to the ugly end of her sister all over again. And nothing would be the same. So I silently build and mend with her, let her build this story of family as she will. In time, maybe it can be. Everything else, it can be water under the bridge, yes?”

The anxiety began to bubble to the surface in Safrona again as she arrived at the crux of her confession, “At least, that is what I thought before…” her lips trembled with what she could not finish. Her fingers left his and slipped into her lap, pressing into the letter she had read a thousand times since she had been given it. The precious letter was lifted carefully, and pressed into her Orchid’s hands. Wet-eyed, his wife gripped his fingers intensely, allowing her whispered confession to travel along his bonded soul rather than the dry throat the words could not break through. “There is a daughter. And I am terrified to cross that bridge.” 

@daily-writing-challenge

Written with @thefirstperished

[cocolacola]

on the topic of wrathion i want to go over something that really gets overlooked which is that he has eyes EVERYWHERE. hes actively in everybody's business, and while that's funny on the surface (ex. his really strong desire to learn every single ancient pandarian secret from a young age, & him essentially sneaking dracthyr around stormwind like he owns the place because he really just knows it that well) i really do think it's a consequence of the burden he holds. as a direct descendant of neltharion everyone is always looking towards him, waiting for him to either become a hero so they can praise him or for him to fuck up so they can say "told you so, those dragons cant be trusted after all".

what im saying is that he's deflecting this overwhelming pressure by returning it back to everyone, and his hunger for intel on literally everything ever gives him a sense of power over the people that judge his every move

[wowtalesofadventurers]

WoW Sea Monster Hunter

A World of Warcraft mermaid AU featuring my Pandarian hunter Min-Ki Stoutbloom and my Night Elf Druid Elodraen, as well @iruthomlogs Tauren priest Choviohoya Dawncutter. The story is a entry for Martaceccanti2000 at Deviantart day 27 hunt.

A rouge sea monster is said to be threating Atlantis as it attacked nearby settlements and the skilled hunter Min-Ki is call to hunt the monster.

As Min-Ki swim to where the sea monster was sighted, he feel that he is followed and take out his bow, aiming at a mermaid with a white scale fish tail, which means that she is a priestess of the goddess Salacia, as she said while holding her hand up as a sign to not shoot, "You don't have to fire at me. My name is Choviohoya, and I'm here to tell you that what you are going to do is wrong. This sea monster may not want to hurt anyone." Min-Ki said to Choviohoya as he lower his bow, "I know that I don't like this too myself, but have you think about the danger that monster will do if it is let loose longer?" Min-Ki then swim to his mission, with Choviohoya following him.

When they arrive at where the sea monster is seen the most, both Min-Ki and Choviohoya see that the sea monster, one of the last remaining members of the Plesiosauria, is hurt with a big metal arrow in its chest and the merman realized, "This creature was in pain, and blind by its injuries. That is why it was attacking the settlements." Choviohoya swim over to the sea monster and try calming the beast as Min-Ki work to remove the strange metal arrow from the monster chest, which made it roar at feeling the pain again. Fortune was on the merfolks side as Min-Ki managed to take the metal arrow out and Choviohoya used some healing magic to heal the sea monster and she said to it once the sea monster has calmed down, "You are alright, big one. You may go swim free." and the sea monster did just that. Min-Ki look at the metal arrow and said, "Whoever fire this at that poor sea monster doesn't seem to care about the creatures blessed by Netpune." and then said to Choviohoya, "Thank you for helping me find a different way."

When Min-Ki show the metal arrow to the Temple of Neptune high priest Elodraen, he said with a upset look on his face, "I know what this arrow is. This type of arrow is used by those that live above the waves and we called them Two-Legs. These Two-Legs only hunt for greed, and the rare sea monster seem like a perfect hunt."

[maltacus]

My Dread Lady Total War II

The game has evidently read the script and no later than turn 3 announced this:

Ha! Indeed! Onward to Khaz Modan, Runar and Halvdan! Dark Ranger Alina is totally not staring at any bare-chested dwarf rowing all day along the way. Do not forget to stop by at Dalaran and eat Pandarian red curry with Rhonin at the Thundering Brewmaster of Flaming Righteousness.

When conventional-ish diplomatic efforts do not pay off the Dark Lady herself needs to set sail. The movement points for characters can not be altered to balance between marching an army on land and sailing in person in a reasonable way, or I have forgotten how to mod it, but at least a ship can be sent. The Banshee's Wail class frigate. Note that Jaina has not yet approved the building plans for the new harbour and Theramoore has only a paltry little port.

It is a long journey across the open seas. There is time for much conjuring of maritime currents and sleeping in the Dark Lady's hammock.

After 12 chapters Jaina has landed with Sylvanas and they continue on foot towards the capital city while the rangers (assassins in-game) scout ahead. As we can all see the blighted and ruined landscape would surely have unnerved the stoutest archmage... Well, Malfurion visited Lordaeron not too long ago, perhaps he dabbled a little with the nature?

There is no rest for the foreign guests. Barely has Jaina gotten a good night's sleep in her newly furnished dungeon when she learns that Cyndia Hawkspear is missing and presumably, or possibly, captured by the Scarlet Crusade. Onward to Hearthglen where Jaina hopes to negotiate on the Forsaken's behalf.

The helpful chancellor Varimathras supplies a pair of fel-infested shackles to keep the distrusted archmage suitably under control. They are sure to smooth things over in the coming negotiations.

Thanks to rangers Clea and Kitala's language lessons in chapter 14 Jaina knows how to speak Thalassian from her heart, and what ancillary did she acquire if not a...translator! Once again, spot on, lol! The little mage is now an irresistible bookworm that all but the most stuffy fanatics would disregard.

Jaina does her best but…chapter 15 ends on a sour note regardless.

Not nearly as sour as Sylvanas in chapter 16, not to mention Anya Eversong. The spoils of the Scarlet stronghold is a boon for the Forsaken economy as well as Anya's supply of ceremonial sashes.

After many chapters of rest, being fed fish soup by Dark Ranger Lyana, being inducted into the dark ranger corps and allowed to cast pells again, Jaina can follow the Forsaken army into the field to begin the offensive. Sadly the Scourge did not oblige and failed to siege the capital in turn 10 as theys hould have. The fact that the garrison was monstrous is no excuse for deviating from the script in such a scandalous manner.

Pyrewood has been scouted out by a banshee spy who really knows how to blend in with the locals. Or possess one of them?

A small Scourge outpost somewhere in the Silverpine highlands make for a convenient first target even though the epic field battles that should have been here are not.

I will have to edit the descr_strat.txt for more next time...

The Scourge smaller settlements are certainly thematic but their defensibility is somewhat...lesser. A gatehouse might have been a sound investment.

The Forsaken army starts out fairly battle-ready but hard to replace so you must take every precaution to keep casualties low.

Sylvanas and Areiel commands the elite rangers that shot accurately at key targets (group 1).

Banshees wail and cast chaotically and hideously effective at large masses of troops but needs to be protected from melee and foused enemy fire (group 2).

Abominations are literal meat walls and a good reserve force to deal with rampaging knights but not worth it to waste on densely packed enemy infantry where they are hacked apart from many directions (group 3).

The deathguard and readguard is the Forsaken elite infantry and an area in which they shine (group 4).

Basic animated skeletons make up a paltry but fast cavalry that can at least chase down fleeing enemies and harass archers. The lack of heavy cavalry and any artillery are the greatest weaknesses of the Forsaken. Only the elite death knights are cut out for the job - and probably VERY expendable if need be in the eyes of their queen - but they are rare.

Regular Forsaken soldiers are stronger than human counterparts with fewer mushy ogans to protect but lack the offensive power to win the battle (group 6 and ungrouped ones).

[knightphobeus]

"We chafed under the idleness of 'peace',"

Genn Greymane looks at Varian as he lets out a deep sigh. On the board, the White Pawn has been removed.

"If there is a chance to fight, why not take it?"

At the bank of the river, a blue-skinned troll lays, the Pandarians racing over as the Brewmaster quickly rushes to his side.

"Still, I will not seek out unnecessary battles..."

Nathanos takes and opens the box for Sylvannas, the black stone and strange crystal with a black moon symbol in the packaging.

"Quiet as a Candle."

"Genn, do you remember Adariall?"

"Your sister...didn't she die?"

"...there's been a sign...she's alive."

[frog-in-bog]

your local Pandarian tank

[howliteart]

Curious but are you accepting waitlist slots at this moment? You're one of the best Pandarian artists out there and I was hoping to grab a slot, but you didn't have DM's open on Twitter and I dont know what FA is

Ah, thank you! ^^

I do not keep a waitlist for commissions - I open for applications every few months and the slots are artist's choice. They are split into two batches which I guess is sort of a waitlist but not in the sense you're asking. At a rough ballpark I'd expect to be open again around late June, but I haven't started batch 2 yet so that's an approximation right now.

And FA is FurAffinity :)

[simplysoriya]

FFAF: What’s your most recent fantasy?

Sighing wistfully Soriya replied, “It involved Pandarian style tacos and a beach at sunset. Also some scantly clad hula dancers but we’re not going to get into that right now.”

After a moment, “They may or may not have been feeding me the tacos.”

{❤️ @chothulu }

[lilenaart]

Chibi Commissions =D

[kaytrawrites]

Black Feathers and White Fur

Summary In which Phil and Trixtin meet

Notes This short contains an alternate Origin of Mumza/MissTrixtin. She is a Pandarian Origin rather than an Elyrian, as I have written her prevously. This idea was prompted by Phil requesting that the skin artists of the MCYT community make Mumza/MissTrixtin a new skin; the only requirement was that it still have the Panda onesie of her original skin, due to her love of Pandas. I may or may not reuse the Pandarian Mumza at some point. We shall see.

Story

The Elytrian Platoon leader tapped the parchment scroll in his hand. “I’ve got your patrol assignments here.” He scanned across the new recruits.

“Special Ranged Force Craft.” He snapped, looking at the only Elytrian in the platoon who had black feathered wings. “Jungle Patrol One.”

Special Ranged Force Philza Craft nodded at hearing his assignment.

The leader went down the list for the rest of the assignments. “Alright. Now get going. Written reports are due on my desk after your patrols are complete.”

Phil spread his wings and kicked off. The sun was just going down as he left. The stars above illuminated the world, allowing him to see everything below.

It was just over a quarter through his patrol when he spotted the scuffle down below between a Pandarian and a band of Wild Dryads. He flew lower and the Pandarian’s head snapped up toward him. “Could use some help here, Feathers!” They snapped.

Phil back winged and drew his bow. He snapped off a few arrows, startling the Wild Dryads, and heavily injuring one. Realizing that their opponent had backup, the Dryads choose to retreat, leaving their fallen comrade behind.

Seeing the dryads gone, the Pandarian relaxed from their combat stance and approached the dying dryad. With a single swift stab, they put it out of its misery.

Phil landed and grabbed the limp wooden body and flung it into the woods after the dryads who fled. He glanced at the armored Pandarian, who was starting to clumsily dress a rather nasty looking wound on their arm. Phil reached out and took the bundle of cloth. “Let me.” He said, stepping closer and quickly covering the wound.

The Pandarian had already packed the wound with moss and clotting salve, so all Phil needed to do was finish wrapping.

The Pandarian nodded. “Thanks.” They glanced around and huffed. “Damn it. Got turned around while I was fighting.” They glanced at Phil. “Mind flying up and looking for my place, Feathers?” They asked. “It isn’t hidden.”

Phil nodded and launched into the air. He quickly looked around and spotted a cottage. He dove down. “I think I found it.” He eyed the Pandarian. “You look just light enough for me to carry you up so you can double check…” He started.

The Pandarian shook their head. “My place is literally the only house around. Just lead the way, Feathers.” Phil nodded and leapt up and turned toward the cottage.

“It’s that way!” He called down, pointing.

The crashing sound of a Pandarian running through brush followed his call, and Phil flew toward the cottage, occasionally pausing and checking on the Pandarian.

It was a quick trip and they waved Phil down when they arrived. They held up a paw and quickly ducked into their cottage. They emerged with a small pouch and held it out.

Phil shook his head. “Nah mate.” He drawled. “No need to pay me. I was nearby. You would have handled them eventually.” He turned on his heel quickly and flew off.

The Pandarian sighed, and tucked the pouch into their bag.

The next morning, Phil winged overhead of the cottage. The Pandarian was outside and their head snapped up at hearing him. They frantically waved up at him. “Hold up, Feathers!” They called out.

Phil dropped down, curious. The Pandarian shoved a leaf wrapped bundle at him. “Dried meat.” They said. “Keep it for later.”

Phil cocked his head. But didn’t give the bundle back. “Thanks mate.” He replied, and put the bundle into his bag.

He took off before the Pandarian could say another word.

Over the next few days, they managed to catch Phil at least once a day. They also finally managed to introduce themselves. Trixtin, they said their name was.

A few days before Phil’s next day off, he stopped by Trixtin’s place. They had become a good conversation companion for Phil.

“Could you get me some goods next time you are near a settlement?” Trixtin asked straight off.

“Not even a greeting, mate?” Phil drawled, amused.

Trixtin let out a slow breath. “Sorry. Hello Phil. Could you get me some things next time you are near a settlement? I’m running a bit low on a few things that I can’t make replacements for.”

Phil shrugged. “Sure.” he smirked. “Usual compensation?” He joked.

“Diamonds.” Trixtin replied.

Phil chuckled, but when he realized that Trixtin wasn’t laughing with, he stopped. “Wait, you’re not joking.”

Trixtin nodded, and held out a small scroll. “Everything I need is on this list.”

The two shifted to a different topic, and when Phil got back from his patrol, he skimmed through the list. It was just the absolute basics: spices, soap, cloth, knives, stuff like that.

Phil headed off on his patrol a bit earlier, his bag filled with bundles of the items Trixtin requested.

When he arrived, Trixtin didn’t come out to greet him, so he started emptying the bundles onto their porch. His ears caught the sound of water splashing behind the house, so when he finished emptying his bag, he headed around back to say hello.

What greeted him took him completely by surprise and immediately made him question just how birdbrained he actually was. “Um.” He called out, which made Trixtin freeze. “I left everything on the porch. I'm gonna go now.”

He turned on his heel, and took off, the knowledge that his good friend, the Pandarian Trixtin , was most definitely a female, now firmly stuck in his head.

The next day was his day off, so he spent it in his bunk, processing. He got up before his superior office turned in and requested a few more days off.

He got them.

The next day was also spent in his bunk, processing. His time was spent going over every single interaction that he and Trixtin had. As the sun crested the horizon, Phil had come to a conclusion: He was gonna ask Trixtin out.

She was a good friend. He honestly really liked hanging out with her. He looked forward to meeting up with her. A few times during his patrols, he had walked with her a bit. He told her about his family back home. About his travels.

And she had told him about her family, too. About her friends. About her travels. About her desire to see more.

He had offered, for after his deployment was done, to travel together. She had agreed.

And well, if it didn’t work out, well. He was honestly okay with staying as friends.

The third day, Phil dragged himself out of his bunk, got on some comfortable traveling clothes and headed out toward Trixtin's cottage.

Trixtin was pacing back and forth outside the cottage when Phil arrived. Her head snapped up upon his arrival.

She wasn’t wearing her usual leather armor, and her hair wasn’t tied up as it usually was. “Phil-” She started.

“Trixt-” Phil started at the same time. They both paused, and Trixtin chuckled while Phil giggled. “You first.” Phil started.

Trixtin smiled. “Phil, um. Would you like to travel the world with me?” She asked.

Phil blinked. “Well, sure.”

Trixtin waved her hands. “As, more than friends.” She blurted out.

Phil opened and closed his mouth, lost for words. “Uh. I was uh. I was gonna ask you the same thing.” He chuckled.

Trixtin clasped her hands over her mouth, a happy sound squeaking out. She nodded, excitedly.

The pair dissolved into discussing where they would go and what they would do and what they would see. Then the realization dawned on Phil.

“Wait.” He said. “I’ve never been around without my uniform.”

Trixtin smirked and tapped her nose. “Us Pandarians have a fantastic sense of smell.”

-oOo-

“And, that’s how me and Trixtin got together.” Phil summed up.

Tommy scoffed. “No way.”

“Oh yes way, Tommy.” Trixtin chuckled.

[safrona-shadowsun]

Mar looked down to the tacup in her freckled hands that was warm, even hot, a piece f cole in her freezing hands. "I don´t think tht I will return to the Arathihighlands. In my mind that man who calls himnself a Trollbane is still a Usurpátor and not chosen by the Ting." She looked up, a frown drawing a long line between her thick eyebrows: "My apologize. I drink your tea and only talk about my own problems. You sure have your own thoughts more important, Milady."

Teatime Tuesday

Eyes fixed on the half orc's hands as she struggled to warm them with the tiny, clay-sculpted cup of tea, Safrona let a wry smile take her lips in understanding of the confession. Fingers toying with the lid of the sugar vessel, the void elf returned it gently to the accompanying teaset that dominated the booth table between them.

"I think home is best when you are carving it out on your own, and not at the whim of someone's war. Of course, someone somewhere likes to lay a claim to every piece of land." Safrona shrugged as she let her eyes light around her Sojourn, the well-loved Pandarian establishment that housed them now. "But I think I have done well for myself. Though it has taken some years to find my own place, and have it feel that it is mine."

Safrona smirked at the little teacup that Mar tried to evoke heat from. "But I also think that there are better ways to heat yourself than with flavored water. You might take a room here, yes? You can steep yourself in a private bath here for an hour or so, if you like."

{ @shuuhuu / @halforc-mercenary }