#but like. still anduin. but not anduin. i took anduin. stole him. hes mine now and a cat boy.

[druidonity2]

Andu Tia (my FFXIV character)

[lothirielswan]

“Wanna Smell Books with Me?” [19]

Join the journey on AO3 too!

Quest Objective: Someone please hold Jaina's beer.

~Wrathion, the Violet Citadel~

“You have what was promised?”

The banners of lilac and cobalt churned at the top of the alabaster steps. Torches played games with shadows across the floor. Dalaran was known for its knowledge, and yet everything seemed hidden by a layer of smoke.

Grand Magister Rommath gestured with his hands, and a wooden crate settled on the cold ground.

Left and Right guarded the staircase at the bottom, so no one would interfere with our transaction. Anyone who came close was given a death stare along with a long rifle pointed at their nose. Such ferocity. Such power.

I lifted a talon. Two more agents descended from the shadows and cracked open the lid with their blades. Rommath raised a slender eyebrow, but gave no reply.

The artifact rested on cushions of silk. It's intricate golden design was uncanny, created by beings of much higher thinking. Certain parts of the strange machine gave off a soft glow. There was a subtle familiarity to it; it looked exactly like my visions from the Thunder King.

“Our archeologists scoured Northrend, the Badlands, Uldum. We found the pieces scattered throughout.” The Grand Magister explained. His features were bathed in twilight hues of gold, azure and violet that made up the room. The dark velvet of my robes were sun-kissed by the gleam of the artifact, like the first rays of dawn. A new beginning.

I hummed with satisfaction. No more hiding. No more shame. The Black Dragonflight will reclaim what is rightfully ours.  

“It was a pleasure doing business, Grand Magister,” His title rolled off my tongue. I snapped my fingers, and two more lackeys emerged from the darkness of the room to carry the crate out of sight. Rommath’s quirked eyebrow grew more rigid.

“You have an abundance of recruits.” He said.

I lightly shrugged my shoulders with a pinch of modesty. “I’m comfortable. I’m afraid you can't say the same.”

I heard of the plight of the sin’dorei. The filthy remains of the Scourge still ran across their homeland, and the elves’ numbers were few. It was a shame, such powerful sorcerers turned to arcane addicts. They did not wander ruins simply for the joy of finding lost artifacts.

Rommath did not appear pleased to bring up the state of his homeland. “That is not a Black dragon’s business.”

“But it could be.” I said.

The bare muscles of his arms stiffened. Rommath muttered, “In what way?”

“I have plans, Grand Magister. Plans that will change the course of Azeroth,” Said I. I was poised and proud, shoulders out as if I had my wings on display.

“Your people are near extinction; I can modify that. Your forces can join mine, and I will reward you.”

Rommath was silent for a moment. “You sound like the Betrayer.”

Illidan Stormrage. Another famous figure. I never had the luxury to meet the former Lord of Outland, but he surely lived up to his reputation during the Legion’s recent invasion.

I replied, “The Betrayer did what was necessary to achieve a higher goal; he opposed the Legion-–”

“And many died in that campaign.” Rommath took another step closer. His fists were clenched like two threatening boulders of marble. The bridge of his nose creased like cracked alabaster. “Many suffered. Many are still paying the price. I would caution you with whatever plot you have come up with.”

“...So that's a no on joining me?” I remarked, unfazed by his closeness and the pain laced within his voice.

The Grand Magister’s head cocked to the side. “The fate of my people is not for me to decide; that is the Regent Lord’s will, what little remains of it. I will inform him of your offer, and the costs.”

Rommath gave a curt nod with his scarf still covering his lips, a last mockery that I still did not know everything he did.

His back was to me when I called out one last time. “Grand Magister?”

His shoulders slumped from exhaustion, and faced me with his expression still disguised behind scarlet silk. “Yes, Black Prince?”

My lips curled into a smile, baring my teeth with sharp points to be persuasive. “I urge you to consider my proposal. I doubt your people would like to be on the wrong side of history a second time.”

Rommath’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you should follow your own advice.”

~Eona, the Purple Parlor~

“Jaina, please-–”

“No. Jaina’s not here right now. Jaina’s on vacation.” Jaina held up a cautionary finger as she slumped down into one of the padded chairs. Her interest moved to the bookshelf near her as I pleaded with her.

“I don't know where Khadgar is and I got a bad-omens vibe from Chromie! Please? I’ll pay you back for the danish.” I replied.

Jaina shot me a foul look at the mere mention of the pastry. But she didn't answer. Instead, Jaina pulled a random book from the shelves, opened it, and hid her face behind the cover.

“Oh,” She moaned into the ink-smothered parchment filled with knowledge. “I miss that smell. I miss books. I miss my youth.”

I lowered her book so I could meet her gaze. “You’re still incredibly young.”

“Ha!” Jaina settled back in her chair and propped her feet up on the nearest table. “Young. What is young? Innocence. Ambition. Love…”

Her fingers suddenly clenched the leather cover of the novel. “Arthas is dead.”

I flinched and felt a pang of guilt. I managed a breathy response, “Yes, he is.”

Jaina gently tugged at the bottom of her braid. So much of her blonde locks had been consumed by the frosty white arcane. Her eyes were black and blue, like ice in the dark. Her voice was melodic like a river, and it had been frozen over. She was still young. But she looked exhausted, like the years had feasted on her spirit.

“It's an odd thing to say, but...I feel like him now.” Jaina’s attention was lost to some illusion that I could not see. Her fingers twitched towards the brooch. “Arthas, he was such a contradiction. He loved his people. He fought undead. He opposed dreadlords. Then he changed. He killed his people. He lead the undead. He took orders from dreadlords.”

Jaina stroked the crest with her thumb. “And now here I am. I used to have faith that everything would work out alright. I used to have faith in myself. Now...”

She shook her head, not for long, but with intensity, as if she could banish the thoughts like one could wring blood out of a healer’s rag. “Now I'm young. And my youth is gone.”

I didn't know what to say. I stole a chair from the other side of the table and dragged it next to hers. At random I plucked a book from one of the shelves and glanced over at her.

I bit my lip as I held up the novel. “Wanna smell books with me…?”

Jaina’s eyes were glassy as she stared at the cover. She nodded, a small smile on her lips. She wiped at her eyes. “I thought you would never ask.”

Our arms brushed together as I opened the first page and started to read. Yes, Khadgar and Dalaran needed us. But Jaina needed this more.

“The girl’s fiance dies in that one.” Jaina remarked.

I looked up at her smirk. “This is what I get for stealing your danish?”

“You brought a bookworm along to smell books, Eona. You should’ve known that something would get spoiled.”

~*~

We were still reading in the Purple Parlor when the air thickened from a teleportation spell. Arcane crackled across my skin and light filled the chamber.

I blinked a few times, stunned by the new change in the atmosphere. Jaina was used to the way of magics and was already standing, staff in hand. Her expression turned grim.

“Khadgar!” I ran to him as I made out his form.

I caught his arm as he stumbled, feeling the coldness of his skin through his dark blue robes. He was pale, and his forehead glistened with sweat as he swayed on his feet.

Archmages Modera and Aethas materialized on his sides. They wore the same drained expressions. Jaina helped Modera down as Khadgar teetered in my grasp.

“Eona...you never told me you had sisters,” Khadgar gasped. I held onto his arms, trying to still him as best as I could.

“Huh?” I said.

“Yes,” Khadgar held up a finger, pointing to the air around me. “There’s three of you...am I counting right? Aethas! What do your elf eyes see?”

“Stars...so many stars...” Aethas groaned and yanked off his hood to massage his temples.

I lead Khadgar to a one-armed sofa as he spoke in his dreamy state of delirium. “You know, I bet if Sylvanas raised me from the dead...I’d be like Beetlejuice.”

I sat the Archmage down and frowned as I leaned over him. “Please don't give me that mental image, Khadgar.”

“No, it's perfect! You can be Lydia! IT’S SHOWTIME-–wee!” I urged Khadgar down to lie on the sofa, smoothing out his hair as I did so.

I glanced over at Jaina as she examined the other two mages.

“What happened to them?” I asked. I wonder if Anduin is still here. He’s a skilled healer, he might know.  

“You know, Eona, you smell really nice.” Khadgar rasped below me. “Kind of like strawberries. Which is funny, you look like a strawberry. You’re covered in seeds…”

I crossed my arms. My white linen shirt came down to my elbows, so the freckles drizzled across my arms were still visible.

“Where were you last, Modera?” I heard Jaina ask.

I joined the two mages across the parlor. Modera seemed less hysterical than Khadgar, but just as exhausted.

“Violet Hold,” She gasped. “the prisoners escaped...we went to track them...they trapped us there. Kalecgos is still with them-–”

My eyes flew open. Jaina and I exchanged a look.

“–-then we faced the Vampyr…” Modera’s head tipped back as she gulped in air.

Jaina nudged my arm. She didn't need to. The two red dots on Modera’s neck said it all. I sprinted back to Khadgar. His skin was branded with the same two marks.

“Aethas too,” Jaina said quietly, smoothing her robes as she stood upright.

We backed away from the three limp mages, watching as their movements seemed to slow.

“If they…” I swallowed. “does that mean they’re stuck that way?”

“No. We have spells to remove it, and it's usually temporary. I can ask Anduin or Malfurion to tend to them.” Jaina glanced up at her own staff, then quickly retrieved the long weapons from where the mages lay.

I nodded, moving my hair away from the front of my face. As I did so, Khadgar leaned up slightly, sniffing the air.

“What about Kalec?” I said.

Jaina returned to my side with their staffs and her eyes flickered over the sleeping bodies. “We’ll get him together. I’ll meet you at Violet Hold. Let’s clean up the Kirin Tor’s mess before the summit has the chance to notice.”

We stepped back into the shimmering portal and our feet echoed as we appeared at the staircase of the Violet Citadel. Jaina raced towards the Anduin; I took the steps two at a time with my thoughts on Kalec.

I squinted as a familiar face lingered at the bottom of the steps. Grand Magister Rommath looked to my coming, his eyes analyzing me like a spellbook.

“Eona, I must speak with you.” He said as I was halfway down the mountain of steps. My calves were burning and I didn't care. Kalec’s face kept flashing before my eyes.

“I'm sorry, now is not a good time.” I remarked.

“It’s important-–”

“Then we’ll discuss it later.” I finally reached the bottom of the stairs and sped past him.

“You are going to slip if you move too swiftly, Lady Sunstrider.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I love cliffhangers :3

Chromie: Me too! Although, I usually see them coming with my powers, but they're still entertaining--but that's not why I'm here. Author, you're messing with the timestreams!

Author: Don't worry, I have a permit.

Chromie: I'm sorry, Author. That bowl of edible cookie dough that you offered the Bronze Dragonflight was delicious, but it does not allow you to go willy-nilly with the past. The Dark Portal was closed for twenty years, making Eona's existence impossible!

*Awesome freaky lightshow happens. Nozdormu, Lord of Time, appears*

Nozdormu: Author, well met. I must say, your work with this new future for Azeroth is...entertaining, but Chronomu is correct.

Author: Jeez, Marvel didn't have these kinds of laws set up--then again, Deadpool was my co-writer. Protectors of Time, please hear me out! I have a loophole!

Nozdormu: Very well, Author. Do as you must. We will be watching...and if you can spare me a cameo, it would touch this old dragon's heart. You even let Kalecgos have a minor role in this story, and he's practically invisible!

Kalec: ...Thanks.

Author: Will do, Lord Nozdormu! Thanks for stopping by, Chromie! As for you Awesome Adventurers, you can actually witness the first time Eona's parents met now, in the recently updated "Protectors of the Present"! Hope you enjoyed c: love, fortune and glory to you!!

[merinnan]

A Court of Azeroth and Prythian - Chapter Five

Chapter One   *   Chapter Two   *   Chapter Three   *   Chapter Four   *   AO3

Tiffin.

Varian was frozen in place, unable to do anything except stare at the woman who’d just entered the room.

Tiffin.

It couldn’t be, of course, the rational part of his mind whispered. For one, this woman had silver eyes and obsidian-black hair rather than Tiffin’s sapphire and gold, as well as pointed ears and eyes, but other than that…her face. That was Tiffin’s face. Even her voice, for all that her tone was far sterner than Tiffin’s had ever been, was the voice he still heard in his dreams.

He was dimly aware of the fae Varian growling at the attention that he was paying to this woman, but he still didn’t look away as she prowled closer. Tiffin, his heart whispered. Not Tiffin, his mind countered. She paused just before his chair, her eyes level with his even though he was seated. She must be a full foot shorter than him at the very least. He held his breath as she leaned forward and sniffed him.

“Amren,” Rhysand was saying.

Amren. The woman who had been mentioned several times previously. The woman who… He broke his gaze from her face, and looked up at the fae Varian, whose features had taken on a kind of feral possessiveness as he glared back. Mates, Feyre had called them. Varian had the sudden distinct feeling that in this place, ‘mates’ held a far greater meaning than it did among the orcs.

Those silver eyes flicked from his face over to Rhysand as Amren withdrew, walking past him to take the seat on Feyre’s other side. “Yes,” she said simply as she sat.

Varian blinked. “Yes what?” He’d obviously missed something while he’d been so caught up in the shock of seeing Tiffin’s double. Nothing had prepared him from that, not even meeting his own doppelganger, or how familiar all the others had looked.

“Yes, you’re not of this world,” Amren replied coolly. Pay attention seemed to hover behind her tone.

She could tell that just by sniffing him. Light.

“So how did he get here?” Tarquin was asking.

“There isn’t a record of anyone coming here from another realm since before we starting keeping records,” Helion added. “Since before there were even High Fae. We only know it even happened because…” he coughed slightly, “because of, uh, the existence of beings like the Weaver of the Wood.”

“You don’t have to dance around it, Helion,” Amren snapped. “You mean me.” Those unsettling silver eyes regarded Varian again, and he wondered just what this tiny woman who radiated power actually was, then she flicked her gaze to Feyre and Rhysand. “At a guess – a guess, mind you – what you two did with the Cauldron possibly frayed things enough for rifts to open again.”

Feyre’s eyes widened, and Rhysand’s narrowed. “Does that mean that there’s other rifts?” he asked. “Other visitors from other realms?”

“How should I know?” Amren returned. “Nothing like that had ever happened before.”

“How do I get home?” Varian asked. Right now, that was what he was most interested in. Amren shrugged again.

“Find the rift you came through and go back through it,” she said. “If it hasn’t already closed and trapped you here.” He winced, and her eyes softened slightly. “Or, if there’s other rifts, one of them might also lead back to your world. Might.”

Varian wasn’t willing to settle for might. Not when he had so much to return to – Anduin, his people, his kingdom. His world. He wasn’t going to abandon them, or have his return hinge on ‘might’. Not now, with reports of demon incursions. Not ever.

“Can’t you make portals?” he asked. “I know it’s difficult to make them between worlds, but it’s possible.” He didn’t want to think about how much time and power it had taken for the Dark Portal to be built, and then rebuilt. Or what it had taken for it to be redirected through time as well as space. All that mattered was that it was possible. There was a chance to get home, no matter how long it took.

With that comment, he drew the attention of the entire room back to him. He’d had it before, and that hadn’t bothered him, but before had been when Amren wasn’t there. And having the full attention of those eerie silver eyes in Tiffin’s face was unnerving. He flexed his fingers absently, resting the heel of his hands on his knees.

“Explain,” Amren said, her voice – Tiffin’s voice – clipped.

He glanced between them all, his eyes coming back to rest on Amren. “The magic users of my world, and the other worlds that I know of,” he began. Amren’s brows raised in interest at the mention of other worlds. “They have the ability to teleport, like you do.” He paused at the puzzled looks. “Teleport? When you move instantly from one place to a completely different place?”

“Oh. You mean winnowing,” Tarquin said.

“Winnowing, then. Well, as well as being able to tele…winnow themselves or one or two others, they can also transport much larger groups.”

Amren was nodding. “We can do that. How many you can take depends on how strong you are.”

At least they were also familiar with that concept. “In addition to creating portals to, ah, winnow larger groups of people from place to place, magic users on our worlds have also been able to create portals to allow people to winnow between worlds.” He spread his hands with a slight shrug. “I don’t know how they did it, I’m not a magic user myself. I know it was difficult, and took many of them working together, but it is possible. It’s been done several times that I know of.”

Amren continued to study him, and he found that he couldn’t look away. “You’re talking about stable, directed rifts,” she said. He nodded.

“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose.”

Once she looked away, Varian found that he was able to, as well. Looking around, he saw that the expressions of the others in the room were a mixture of incredulity, amazement, and thoughtfulness.

“Before you even ask,” Amren told them, “I have no idea how to do such a thing. If I did, I’m not sure I’d still be here. I know that many of those in the Prison certainly would not.”

“I haven’t heard of it, either,” Helion added. “I can have my people check our libraries, but…,” he grimaced. “We’re still recovering from Amarantha’s plunder of them. We’re decades away from replacing even a fraction of what she stole or destroyed.”

Tarquin was also shaking his head. “You know that I don’t have anything like that, either, Feyre,” he said. A look of guilt and shames flashed across the High Lady’s face, and Varian wondered just what was actually being said between the two of them. “And the Summer Court was hit the hardest by Amarantha, as you know,” he added to Rhysand, who nodded.

“Even if Tamlin were inclined to help, the Spring Court was hit almost as hard by the end of that  whole mess with her and Hybern,” Rhysand said, “and I doubt we’d get any joy from Beron.” He turned to look up at the silent winged figure behind him. “What about Dawn and Winter, Az?”

The shadows around Azriel lessened slightly. “The Dawn Court, possibly, but it’s never been the kind of knowledge they recorded. As for Winter, if any library has that information, it’ll be in the city that Viviane guarded. The other Winter cities…” He shrugged, and Rhysand nodded.

Varian listened closely to the discussion, taking note of the information that they revealed. A war had been mentioned earlier – this Amarantha and Hybern, whoever they were, were evidently who that war had been against. A war harsh enough that it seemed that at least four of their territories had been plundered and devastated. He could sympathise.

“I’ll send word to Kallias,” Tarquin said. “And what about the Night Court, Rhys?”

Rhysand ran his free hand through his hair. “We’ll look in the library at Velaris. Az...”

“I’ll tell the others.” With a rustle of wings, Azriel vanished, leaving only shadows swirling where he’d been standing.

“While you’re looking in the libraries,” Tarquin said, standing, “we’ll go back to where we found Varian, and see if we can find the rift he came through – if it’s still there.”

As if that were a signal, the others began standing and exchanging quiet words of farewell, and promises to pass on any information found as soon as possible. Varian found himself watching Amren again, and hadn’t even realised that the fae Varian had come over to him until he heard his voice growling in his ear. “Stop looking at my mate like that.”

Varian turned to look at him. Regardless of world or race, some things never changed, and jealousy was evidently one of them. “I don’t want your mate,” he assured him. “It’s just that she looks so much like my mate did.” Given that none of them had used the term ‘wife’, he wasn’t sure that they’d understand what he meant if he had said it. “It’s…it’s hard not to look when…”

“Did?” A soft voice asked on his other side. Varian turned from the fae male to look up into Feyre’s storm-grey eyes.

“She died,” he said. Even after all this time, it hurt. “A long time ago. Amren,” he glanced over at the tiny woman again, “Amren could be as much Tiffin’s twin as you,” he looked at the other Varian and nodded to him, “could be mine.”

“I’m sorry,” Feyre said sincerely, then looked past him to the other Varian. “And Varian, if I were you, I’d quit it with the territorial male bullshit before Amren rips off your balls and nails them to the wall for acting like she’s your possession. It’s not like your bond is that new.”

The fae had the good grace to look somewhat chagrined at her words. “I’m sorry,” he muttered to Varian. “That must be difficult. I don’t know how,” he also looked over at Amren. “If I lost her and then met someone who looked just like her? I’d stare, too.”

Feyre nodded, then placed a hand on Varian’s shoulder. “They take a bit of getting used to,” she said. “The fae, I mean.” He shot her a quizzical look, and she smiled. “I wasn’t always a fae – it’s a long story. But Tarquin’s a good one. You’ll be alright with him.” She patted his shoulder, then went to take Rhysand’s hand, the two of them and Amren vanishing a moment later, shortly followed by Helion.

[lothirielswan]

“This Is What I Get for Eating Too Many Doughnuts.” [1]

Quest Objective: Recall backstory from long ago…

~Eona Strider, Pandaria~

This is the worst! I think I left the stove on...and I'm being hunted in the jungle on an uncharted continent.

My gasps for air could barely be heard over the buzz of insect wings and cricket squeals. The sound of angry orcs, however, could trample any noise.

“Find the elf! The Warchief wants her back alive!” I sidestepped and slammed against the back of a tree and glanced back at the speaker. General Nazgrim’s green skin almost blended in with the jaded forest, but the plated crimson armor was unmistakable.

I bit my lip as I thought of being dragged back to the mainland and at Garrosh’s nonexistent mercy. I betrayed the Horde–that’s one crime. But then I found out something I wasn't supposed to, and now I'm being hunted by death itself–

“There!”

I yelped and clutched my hood closer to my face as I left my hiding place. Orc boots trampled the lush emerald grass and hacked at the shrubs in their way like they were nothing.

The trees parted into a clearing as two statues approached. I cursed as two towering guards wearing red tabards guarded the entrance.

My hood nearly fell off as I looked back and forth between two impending dooms: the guards or the bloodthirsty general and his hunting party. My mind raced for a solution–

I jumped as something brushed against my shoulder. I sighed when I saw it was a vine and my adrenaline bubbled underneath my skin.

Yes! Use it!

I tugged on it with my fist, and when the rubbery rope held, I hoisted myself up. I gathered the end with my as I climbed and heard the hunting party approach.

My fingers were inches away from the safety of branches. Calls from below made my arms shake.

“Where did the rogue sneak off too?”

“This is a new continent–everything is uncharted. We’ll never find her!”

“We will, or Hellscream will make this new land the least of your idle frets…” General Nazgrim’s threat made my skin tingle, but not in the nice butterflies-and-compliments kind of way.

I bit back a grunt as I hauled myself onto the branch and sunk into the safety of the shadows. I needed a map, a way out of here–and a crystal to contact home and make sure my house wasn't a pile of embers.

As Nazgrim approached the two guards and questioned them, the branches rustled around me. The leaves sniffled and growled around me.

My eyes widened as a monkey’s claws whacked my green cover away. I yelped as I swung to the next branch.

My blood froze in my veins as I felt stares wander up the tree. I ducked down as the monkey clambered down the tree bark and perched on Nazgrim’s shoulders.

I blew red bangs out of my face with a little more force than necessary. That's no fair! How come the jungle likes him? He's mean and loud and has “grim” in the name.

I abandoned my branch and started to navigate the jungle from above. The two statues I spotted below stood at the entrance of a small village in the center of the jungle. The Horde probably controls it, but I have to go in anyway...there might be a map or some sort of way off this island of false hope.

I teetered from branch to branch, watching over the village from overhead. Rows of bamboo steps lead up to tiny huts occupied with orcs and evil monkeys alike. Guards traveled dark earthen paths that wove through the small town.

I didn't have a choice; I had to go down there. It was either evil monkeys or the wrath of the jungle–and I didn't want to explore the new land by myself.

As I maneuvered to the next branch, I heard a sickening snap. And then my green surroundings blurred as I fell backwards.

“EEEEEEEEP–!”

This is what I get for eating too many doughnuts.

My back erupted with pain as I hit the dirt. I bit down hard on my lip to keep from making anymore sounds. The small village came into focus around me with irritated monkey screeches. No one seemed to witness my fall, so I still had a chance to escape. General Nazgrim’s voice mustered me up from the ground and I sped off for cover.

“–Plant spikes on every tree you can find, and send out snipers. Garrosh will get his prize...but I'm sure he won't mind if it's in mint condition.” I scowled at Nazgrim’s back from behind one of the huts as he passed. That's just rude.

I felt my hood rest heavily on my shoulders–it must’ve fallen off in my accident. I gathered the dark fabric in my hands and was about to thrust it over my head when I felt another pair of eyes fall on me.

My gaze traveled across the road and I felt my eyes grow wide. His hands were bound to the nearest tree. He wore once golden-blue robes, now tainted green from the jungle. Those were Alliance colors.

And a human was wearing them.

I didn't know Nazgrim was holding a prisoner of war captive, but who he was didn't matter. He had seen me–and probably my embarrassing fall from the sky–and my cover was blown.

Out of desperation, a finger flew to my lips in an effort to tell him to shush, but I knew it wouldn't make a difference. He would yell for the guards, I would be arrested, and my neck would be severed by Garrosh Hellscream’s axe to bury his dark secret–

But none of these things happened. The guards didn't come. My demise hadn't arrived.

The human didn't make a sound. He simply raised his bound hands to his lips, zipping them, and throwing away the key.

I did what I shouldn't have and chuckled at the gesture. I couldn't help it–I went from running for my life to silently making friends with a stranger.

With a human stranger. Wearing Alliance colors.

One of the guards strode past, and my cheek pressed against the bamboo hut as I tried to stay unseen. The prisoner’s gaze left mine and absentmindedly stared up at the sky. When the orc carried on, I pressed my hands together like I was praying and mutely thanked the stranger.

The prisoner nodded his head, blond tufts of his hair bouncing as he did so. He raised his captive hands and pointed at me. He gestured back at himself, and his blue eyes flickered somewhere behind me. Towards the exit. He knew how to get out of this village–and possibly a way off this continent.

Another guard passed, and we edged away from the road. It gave me another second to consider his offer.

Should I really partner up with a stranger? I barely know him. I might have better odds getting out of here myself–

But he spared my life: he kept my cover. And the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Another sentry passed without a word. The prisoner’s eyes flitted back to mine. I could hear Nazgrim’s faint laugh in the distance. It was now or never.

I stole my dagger from its sheath and raced across the dirt road to the prisoner’s side. The rope that encased his hands was like the same rubbery vine that saved my life earlier. I broke the bindings with a small snap, and the rope fell away from his hands.

“IT’S HER!”

“Crap,” I muttered, and when I looked up, I yelped at the dozens of orcs and monkeys sprinting to us.

“Come on!” I snatched the stranger’s hand and tugged him away from an angry mob of demolishers. The once eerie village came to life around us, sprouting up with furry foes.

One of the monkeys was clever and skipped the charge on the ground. It swung forward on a vine, claws outstretched to seized his prey–

He fell to the ground with a thud as my dagger glinted off his chest. In the end, I knew it didn't make much of a difference–there were many more to replace him.

My arm jerked back and dirt flew up in specs as my feet came to a stop. I looked back at Blondie.

“Wait–over there!” He pointed down a different trail. He knew his Common well, I’d give him that. He knows the way out of here–I think. His guess is better than mine.

I nodded and changed directions. His hand had moved to wrap around mine. His fingers clasped mine tight like he was holding his freedom. I know how that feels.

Blondie weaved in between squatting huts and rows of military spikes. Arrows dug themselves into every surface as we passed. One managed to graze my knuckles, but I didn't have time to worry about it. I was running for my life next to a person I barely knew.

The ground dipped before us and lead towards the bank of a thrashing river. For the first time that day, my adrenaline peaked from happiness. Yes! I made it! I survived!

Blondie pointed to one of the bamboo boats tied up and I slipped inside. The mob trailed from the village towards the docks with spears raised. General Nazgrim lived up to his name with a grim-set look.

I dug into a pouch tied to my waist and held up a handful of powder. As the blond stranger climbed in, I softly blew the pink dust off my palm.

The pink dots crackled and popped as they left my hand and filled the air with gray smoke. The current pushed us away from the village, and off towards a new destination.

I turned back to my blond companion, who stared at me in wonder. We were trapped in the small space together and his knees constantly brushed against mine.

“So...you like to make unforgettable first impressions, don't you?” I mused with a smirk.

“Says the woman who fell from the sky,” He replied. My cheeks burned at the mention of the incident as he continued, “Are you alright?”

“Yes–thank you. I just got nicked by one of the arrows on my hand,” I held up my bleeding knuckles, “I'm okay, really.”

The stranger held out his hand. “May I?”

Once again, I hesitated. He was a stranger that saved my life twice, but he was still a stranger.

I took another chance and offered him my hand. I watched with awe as he guided it to his lips, and when he kissed my skin, light flashed. My skin felt warm and tingly as he lowered my hand and said, “I'm Anduin.”

Oh. That’s a pretty mouthful.

“Eona Strider,” I said my name shyly as I tucked my hair back behind one of my long, pointed ears. His name sounded faintly familiar, but I wasn't up to speed on human affairs–nor any other race, really.

Anduin smiled as the water lapped at the sides of the boat, “That is a lovely name, Ms. Strider.”

I laughed for the second time today. “We’re in the middle of a jungle, going who knows where. There’s no need for formalities.”

“I suppose not.” There was a twinkle in Anduin’s eyes when he said that. “Did you have a destination in mind?”

My previous goal was to leave this new continent, but that was just to escape the Horde. No matter what continent I landed on, they would be there–perhaps I had more of a chance here after all.

I hummed as I considered the possibilities, and smiled up at the not-so stranger. “Somewhere interesting.”

“As you wish,” Anduin said as the boat continued on towards the next adventure.

Continue the journey to the next chapter here!

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