#c: Sandellis

[solautumn]

🎬

@amdoggo-willbite

[solautumn]

8. [ Bastion ]

 “Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.”                                          ― Shel Silverstein  

A lot had happened between the initial wave of Scourge invasions, and Solarian struggled to make sense of it all. The shadow magic within him was experiencing an awakening of the likes he’d never felt before, and news quickly spread that the veil between the mortal realm and that of the beyond had been breached. Mawsworn appeared and plucked faction leaders and vanished. Those who remained made a stand in Ice Crown and found a way through the veil, through the Maw of death itself, and a way had been opened back home.

The afterlife realms of the Shadowlands were in danger. Their anima-- the essence of mortal souls resulting from their experiences and actions in life-- were being poured directly into the Maw instead of going to the realms in which they rightfully belonged. Treachery and deceit abounded, and where once a perfect harmony existed to grant souls rest in infinite afterlives, now there was only despair as they plummeted to eternal suffering.

It was a lot for a young priest to process. Worse yet came when his beloved Sandellis was deployed with a troop of Illidari to the realm of Maldraxxus. What was supposed to be an in and out mission turned into a blood bath. Solarian wasn’t privy to all the details, but the troop returned with injuries and short a few men. Solarian trekked out to Orgrimmar to find the lists of the deceased and missing, and found Sandellis Emberstrider among the missing. His heart dropped to his stomach, and he felt sick. Weeks of waiting and trying not to think of the worst were useless. He was missing, and left behind someplace he couldn’t follow. Solarian felt helpless at first, staring at the list through misty eyes, as others shoved him aside to get to the same lists. The shadows within him surged as he rubbed the mist from his eyes and clenched his lower jaw.

How could they leave him? How could they lose him? He’s NOT dead. You have to find him.

Mortals were never meant to cross beyond the veil. In fact, many of those who had gone would not come back. Solarian refused to believe that Sandellis would be one of those who were doomed to perish there. He would go into the depths of whatever hell to drag him back out, but as he stood there shoved aside, he knew he couldn’t do it alone.

Solarian took a few days to get ready, leaving his work at the Dalaran hospital to cross the portal into Oribos, which was bustling full of people. Mortal people. Once there, those mortals who entered were given a choice to align with one of four covenants. The Necrolords of Maldraxxus were militant, unyielding and ruthless. Above all, they valued strength and power, testing those to a melee of survival of the fittest. Solarian would be eaten alive. The vampiric Venthyr of Revendreth were eternal punishers of irredeemable souls. Despite his growing hunger for justice, he didn’t want to risk becoming lost in a lust for blood and retribution against those deemed unworthy. The Night Fae of Ardenweald were servants of powerful nature souls as they went through the autumnal and winter stages of eternal rest, but were under the threat of Drust invasion. Solarian could see himself there, but it was the Kyrian who caught his attention the most.

Known on Azeroth by few as spirit healers, the Kyrian lived lives of eternal service, serving as angelic guides that ferried lost souls from the land of the living to the Arbiter in Oribos who would send them off to their rightful place in the afterlife. They were ordered and purposeful, and valued humility, righteousness, virtue, and above all service. While there were nuances Solarian still couldn’t wrap his head around as well as much to learn yet, he could build rapport with them and gain access to other parts of the Shadowlands with the help he needed.

Bastion was unlike any place he’d ever seen before. The skies were ever blue with portals to other realms and rushing conduits of cloud-like energy from where the Kyrians swooped across the skies. He wondered what it would be like to have wings, to fly as they did and see infinite realms of existence.  Water ran clearer than any he’d ever seen, and brimmed with life. The golden grass the color of his hair glimmered in the sun, softer than any grass he’d ever seen on Azeroth, and tall with plants and groves sprawling beautifully across the landscape. Animals grazed freely, and he was ever mesmerized by the swift runners with their singular gleaming horns proudly pointed skyward. Everything was very much alive. It was temperate, sunny, and perfect. So perfect that he struggled with the idea of this being only temporary.

I’m not supposed to be here. But I want to be.

It was enough to almost make him forget about the desperate need to find his beloved. This was, after all, where souls came to shed their mortal burdens to be reborn as proud Kyrians. But he was no such thing.

He was even assigned a steward on a daily basis. The fluffy owl-like beings came in all sizes. Some days, his steward was taller and broader than him, other days, his steward as no bigger than a gnome. As he understood it, they were beings born from Death’s magic, and served the Kyrians as aides, fixer-uppers of machinery, and general companions.

There was no true night time in Bastion, but a comfortable shade would blanket the land on occasion, and during that time, he would lay down to sleep. Despite the quiet desperation he felt to find Sandellis, Solarian had to be patient. It would not do to rush things and get himself lost or worse. So he began by doing what he did best, healing those that needed it in places of rest, aiding in the collection of herbs. Cataloging their uses and making use of them. It had only been a few days when he was studying the delicate Death Blossom with its petals like wings. If picked incorrectly, the bloom’s essence would wither away.

That’s when he heard the priestess Emilia reach out to him through his mind, just as she had back home. It was a welcome surprise to find someone he knew, someone who could help. There was no training session to be had, but the reassurance that he wasn’t alone, and that she could help him try to locate Sandellis felt like he had been walking in the right direction after all.

Here, he could hear his shadows more clearly. He could pay attention to the whispers that yet lingered within him. Solarian needed to remain alert. He needed to continue building rapport, and taking advantage of this opportunity to learn about the Kyrian history, how they located and ferried souls, and how they trained. He would work with his assigned steward, tag along with trainees as they ventured out beyond Bastion and learn as much as he could about the other realms and build rapport with them, too. Perhaps it would even do him good to work on his physical strength and meditate to find his center again. Learning how to properly use a weapon wouldn’t be such a bad idea, if he could lift one.

                                                  🌱🌱🌱

[solautumn]

🎶

Sandellis is a very special character. He gives Solarian so many feelings, and there’s a few songs that make me think of him:

I See You by Missio: Sandellis is blind, but was the first person to really notice Solarian is much more than he seems and “see” him in a metaphorical sense.

Wax Simulacra by Mars Volta: There’s a duality in Sandellis between the person he used to be pre-Illidari and who he is now. Some of those things still shake him “by the roots” as it were, but he’s doing his best.

Every Other Freckle by Alt-J: " Yes, I'm gonna roll around you, like a cat rolls around the chrysanthemums.” a;slkdfjek  🔥💦💦

Bonus Track:

Shadows by Sabrina Carpenter: “I don't mind your shadows, cause they look a lot like mine.”

[solautumn]

3. [ Hopeful ]

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”   ― Ralph Waldo Emerson  

Solarian’s future loomed closer, and it looked brighter than ever. It had been well over a year since he’d completed his apprenticeship with the Dalaran hospital and made his way to Zandalar as a researcher. Now, the war was over, and the whisperings of N’Zoth in his head had been quelled. The nightmares that occasionally haunted him were a scar that remained, but as someone who walked the fine lines between Light and Shadow, he was fully aware that they were not real. To know Light was to know Shadow, and the delicate balance would forever be tested between them. Most who knew him would say that Solarian wouldn’t hurt a fly-- and in fact was known for his healing!-- but he most certainly knew that shadow magic could bring a threat to its knees, should he be inclined to weaponize it.

Despite being of diminutive size physically, Solarian’s mind was ever growing with its doors and windows wide open to learning new things. He was certainly in his prime. The past year had been one of discovery and growth. Working as a volunteer researcher with the Reliquary granted him access to studies on ancient plants and lichen, as well as having first hand experience with new herbs catalogued from all across Zandalar from the muddy swamps of Nazmir to the arid deserts of Vol’dun and everything in between. With his alchemical studies taking off, and he found himself concocting new versions of old tried and true potions he’d learned to make in the past. Healing through natural means was easier for him than ever before.

Increasingly, he thought about how he would apply these findings to his own future. As the youngest of the Autumnsong brood, he was paving his way in ways his siblings hadn’t, and ways he was chided for from time to time, but was nevertheless supported. Part of the perks of being the youngest was getting away with having a little more leeway than his siblings had, and he took full advantage of it. Lately, he’d been traveling to Silvermoon City more often, both to run errands for his research team and to visit his family. It was nothing out of the ordinary for him until somehow, he began to meet new people he’d never really known before. Introducing himself to others made him feel seen. It was as if speaking his aspirations out loud set the wheels of possibility into motion.

The thoughts of opening up his own clinic had lingered in his mind since his days at Dalaran, but he’d never really given it serious thought until recently. When he voiced it, one of his new friends, Abel, was there to offer up an investment if he decided to open it.

Abel was different from most Sin’dorei Solarian had met in person. They were introduced through Taedalan, a very kind paladin who seemed to enjoy baking, and who seemed like one of the most supportive people Solarian had ever met. Abel was a mage, and yet he wasn’t like other mages. There was a beautiful, unfettered femininity to him that seemed to balance in harmony with his masculinity, and it made Solarian feel as though perhaps he could learn about himself through him. He wasn’t sure how to ask, or how to even broach the subject without feeling as though he were out of line. Oh to have that kind of confidence in being oneself! In a world where most men were broad, muscled, and armored, Solarian felt like a slender reed in the wind, invisible to those whom he felt attraction toward.

There was much still to learn, but the redhead and his boyfriend Maztheric were already offering up financial and emotional support that made Solarian feel less like a tumbleweed and more like a skyward fern, suddenly watered with the sweet downpour of support from people he barely knew. Even Sandellis had been there to express his support as well, and brought up the conversation they’d had just the night before about him guarding Solarian-- something that he’d gone to bed later thinking about in a blush, to be honest.

It seemed much like a busy night, and Rennsley the mule seemed to happily eat kiwi fruit from Vokunaku’s hand. The mage seemed a little eccentric at times, but weren’t all traveling magi that way? Solarian certainly liked him! Quietly, he beamed at the new friends that surrounded him. They seemed like a mixed bag of different and yet like-minded individuals whose paths seemed to cross more frequently these days, until time eventually pulled everyone off in different directions.

Once more, he was left with just the company of Sandellis, whom he’d only known for about a week’s time. They got along in ways Solarian hadn’t expected, and he looked forward to finding any excuse to be sent back into the city just to see him and the others again. As much as he tried not to think about the Illidari during the day, he often found himself wondering about where he was, what he was probably doing, and what he’d bring him the next time they met. It seemed to be a little ritual now for Solarian to bear gifts of fruit, or little vials of mana potions.

They were beginning to get to know one another a bit more through their unexpected friendship. Solarian hinted at the way that the Light and Shadow grappled in his mind from time to time, and in turn, he learned more of the other’s abilities as an Illidari. He also learned of San’s dislike of him having left without saying goodbye. Night after night, the two would linger around Silvermoon City, or venture out into the woods for a walk, not noticing as time flew past them.

Tonight, they ventured out because... well. Sandellis was admittedly smelling a bit ripe, and he needed to get dunked into a river as soon as possible. Solarian teased him a bit, though he certainly offered him his own soap to use. For once, it seemed as though the pharmacy that was his bag was being put to good use, and he happily laid back on the grass, watching the evergold leaves of Eversong’s canopy swaying above. That’s not to say he didn’t occasionally steal glances in the bathing Illidari’s direction, however.

Conversation drifted in and out between them as it always did, but this time, it seemed as though the bond they’d been unwittingly creating pulled them even closer. Sandellis had a certain magnetism that drew Solarian like a moth to the warmth of the other’s flame, and before he knew it, his slender hands were in that thick mane of raven locks. His fingers gently raked through it, detangling it and braiding half of it loosely. Solarian wanted to feel him, especially as his lips craved to feel the other’s. Boldness overtook him in a way it never really had before when he reached out to hold San’s face and turn it in his direction.

“May I kiss you?”

His heart pounded in his chest and in his red ears as he waited with bated breath for the other’s quiet reply. Solarian simply couldn’t take a kiss. He was much too disciplined. Sol had to ask and let his intention be known, lest he be rebuffed and rebuked for it. He didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good thing with a thoughtless act, after all. But it seemed as though Sandellis was of a like mind.

“Yes.”

Solarian felt his heart soaring when Sandellis pulled him into his lap. Their lips met in a soft, chaste kiss at first, but Solarian hungered for more. The more they kissed, the more his body reacted to it, and the less shy he felt about letting his lips explore the Illidari’s face until Sandellis paused them with a confession that seemed to be weighing deeply on his heart. It was a confession that was certainly unexpected, but not one that was at all as dreadful as Solarian had been imagining in his mind. San wasn’t leaving to go off on some Illidari adventure that flirted with danger, and he wasn’t secretly betrothed to someone else. His confession was still important, however, and Sol held his face tenderly, kissing him afterward. His body was different, an obvious fact upon first look, but San meant it in ways others could not see.

Solarian offered a warm smile and brought his fingers up to trail along the ridged horns that curved up menacingly, and he placed a gentle kiss beneath each of his eyes. “You weren’t born with horns or felfire eyes, either,” he said in acceptance of every part of him. He had quite a lot of feelings about the subject that suddenly made themselves known. Solarian didn’t reduce what made a man down to his reproductive organs. A man was so much more nuanced than that, and despite his own inexperience in the bedroom, he knew that his attraction to men was more than a base attraction to said parts.

They kissed again, this time holding one another tightly. The young priest didn’t want the moment between them to end, and he didn’t quite know what this meant for them going forward, but the one thing he knew was that despite his best efforts, he was growing quite fond of Sandellis. That night, he decided to stay at the Wayfarer’s Rest in Silvermoon City once more with him, rather than go all the way back to Zandalar and nurse portal sickness. Consequences of having to get up earlier than usual be damned! He wanted to fall asleep in the other’s strong embrace where he felt safe and happy for once.

Just as before, he would succumb to sleep mere moments after his head touched the pillow, but upon waking, he remembered to keep his promise not to simply leave without saying anything. This time, he gently roused Sandellis from sleep in the early hours of morning with hands that curved along the other’s beard gently and a sweet kiss to bid him farewell once more. It would be a few nights before he was to come back, but he promised to return, and even promised to bring him something new to try the next time they met.

Even though he couldn’t foresee what the future had in store for him in several fronts, Solarian had more reason than ever before to look forward to returning to Silvermoon City.

                                                                🌱🌱🌱

[solautumn]

2. [ Fine Lines ]

“For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” -Sir Isaac Newton "For every light, there is a shadow." - Anathema

From the first time Solarian had used Light magic to heal a wound his brother earned while mishandling a mana wyrm in their youth, an equal and opposite force tugged within him. It was during his training that began at the tender age of five that he learned of the feelings inside of himself were perfectly normal when one was to be a conduit of the Light. It was different for everyone, ofcourse. Some felt only the Light, while others rejected it, drawn only to Shadow. Most had a balance ranging from delicate to strong between both forces. The first time Solarian felt it, he wept. Never before had he felt such a transformative power come over him. Later he would understand that the Light used him as a conduit, filling him with feelings of hope and righteousness, as well as a sense of belonging to the fabric of all creation. The warmth had flowed through his body, and he felt a great sense of joy unlike anything he’d ever felt before. But once it was gone, it felt as though it had been ripped away and replaced with an emptiness that couldn’t be filled. His brother had wondered whether the younger had somehow absorbed the wound, but it was not physical pain he’d felt.

Over time, he learned to understand that Shadow magic also lurked within him with just as much power to destroy, as the Light dwelling within him that healed. One could not be had with complete absence of the other. After all, it was the two that had ruptured the fabric of  creation and birthed the physical realm in which they lived. Solarian thus feared that he could bring harm to others, and feared the snare that could draw him to the shadows with everything that worked against him.

He’d fallen to the shadow’s influence once before, after all. And more recently, he’d even heard the whispers of N’zoth in his head that laid bare his every insecurity. Embrace the truth of shadow. Let them see your beauty in terror. Let them bear witness to your true power. Let them see what you are capable of, young one.

All lies nothing but the whispers of a desperate old god attempting to tether his hold on the young priest. His true power was that of mental fortitude, and he broke free of the hold that threatened to make him buckle. But even a non-physical attack such as that could leave scars.

Solarian’s time in Quel’Thalas for the week was drawing to a close before he had to return to Zandalar, but it had been a rather productive couple of days. He’d spent time with his family at their estate near Sunsail Anchorage, and even with new Illidari friend in the city. He’d found a large tome that detailed the story of Illidan Stormrage and his Illidari, and was excited to show it to Sandellis that night when they suddenly found themselves at the center of conversation with a drunk elf, and some sort of battle veteran who’d been minding his own business. With how much time the younger elf spent running menial tasks for the senior researchers, it was nice to talk to others as an equal, and not viewed as an inferior due to his youth.

When asked what his research was used for, Solarian found himself embarrassed to admit the true purpose of it. He cited that being able to heal using the properties of nature magic and herbs would allow him to heal those such as the Forsaken who had adverse reactions to the Light, or those so deeply touched by the Void that Light could harm them. The truth of it was simple. If he could heal without using the Light, he would. With how much the Light gave him and subsequently took away, he hated the emptiness he felt afterward, especially if his healing was in vain. The Sin’dorei had felt life slip between his fingers when he trained at the Dalaran hospital during the Legion’s last invasion, and it was his descent into darkness following it that had him shipped back to Quel’Thalas, because he wasn’t ready. Solarian watched the world change, and watched each wave of attack on their world with a renewed hate for himself and his inability to control his emotions. It took nearly a year of strict devotion to his studies to snap out of it, and emerge ready to dust himself off and try again.

The evening’s affairs took an interesting turn when a fascinating goblin appeared, snapping him out of those thoughts and bringing more lighthearted conversation to their small gathering. The goblin’s vernacular was amusing, and her antics in a bear costume were worthy of applause, although some of her puns and innuendos went right over his head, until those around him hinted at their true meaning. It made him blush with realization, and he only realized he was more inexperienced with certain facets of personal and interpersonal relationships that he didn’t quite know how to address.

Solarian wasn’t necessarily a beacon purity, despite what he appeared. Inexperience did not equate to innocence. He’d had fleeting thoughts and desires that had yet to be acted upon, but he’d led such a reclused life that the only experiences came from a brief entaglement with a mage during his time in Dalaran. Even then, their kisses had been considered tame and chaste by most, but his thoughts still tread the fine line of dark desire that he had no outlet for, and thus internalized it all and sealed it tightly in a jar deep down inside. It wasn’t for polite conversation, and even then among strangers joking about it, he felt no desire to reach down into himself to retrieve it.

At last, then night drew to an end when the goblin left, just as a vulpera joined in. Her drunken antics led her straight to the ground where she seemed to find no solace in the fact that the goblin had left them, and in the end, Solarian and Sandellis wound up placing her in a room at the Silvermoon City Inn between the Royal Exchange and Murder Row. Unfortunately, it earned Sandellis a few deep bites. After dropping her off, the two continued onward to the Wayfarer’s Rest, where Solarian decided to get a room for the night rather than have to take a dragonhawk flight and walk so late toward Sunsail Anchorage.

It was there that he began to dress San’s wounds, although the gashes were deeper than he’d imagined. He hated to see his friend suffer in pain, and it was the second time he’d had to heal him. Rather than make him try to rest with such fresh wounds on his shoulders, Sol decided to offer healing it with the Light. Once it was finished, Solarian flopped back onto the bed, feeling the weariness of the day, but also the hollow feeling of emptiness that followed when using the Light. It was something he understood more deeply now. It was his burden alone to carry, and he would be reluctant to reveal its weight to anyone, even those closest to him, including family. Thus, he pushed it away from his mind, focusing instead on the rest he needed to get after such a long day.

Rather than making the Illidari seek refuge elsewhere for the night, Solarian insisted that he stay with him. Having the company would do wonders for that hollowness that curved its ache in his chest, although he knew better than to allow himself to form a deeper attachment than was appropriate. And he wouldn’t make the other go out and find some tree, when there was ample room and safety for him to lay his head down to rest here.

The other’s face was the last thing Sol saw before drifting off quietly to sleep. In the morning, Solarian wouldn’t remember the nightmares that made his face scrunch and his ears pin back. He wouldn’t remember the groaned complaints, or the gently hummed cries in the night that fell from his sleepy lips. He also wouldn’t remember the calm that took over when a pair of strong arms pulled him closer, or the way he snuggled into the warm safety of the chest beside him. Solarian would awaken with his limbs tangled with the other, and a little drool at the corner of his lips, and would gently pull away in slight embarrassment of himself, wondering if he’d been the culprit of their close proximity. It was nice, but Solarian needed to remind himself that accidentally becoming too attached to someone whose path was so wildly different from his own would only bring disappointment to one, the other, or both. He had too much to learn, and the other’s calling was yet an unknown variable. They barely knew one another, after all. Perhaps they were only two ephemeral ships passing in the night. His whole life seemed to consist of treading fine lines, and he was good at it.

This too, shall pass.

He smiled to himself, wanting to hold on to the image of San sleeping for a moment. He looked peaceful, despite the nature of his horns and the runes upon his body that held the Illidari’s inner demon captive. Then, he quietly gathered his things, leaving behind the last of the fruit he’d brought with him that evening: a sunfruit, two kiwi, and even the last of the crackers. Leaving a note was certainly out of the question, regarding the other’s blindness, but he was certain they would see one another again before he headed back to Zandalar.

I’ll see you around, my friend.

                                                             🌱🌱🌱

[solautumn]

1. [ Nice ]

“You’re too nice for your own good, you know.”

"Anar’alah! Are they even feeding you out there?! You’re not going back out without provisions,” he remembered his mother asking. The words echoed in his head, and Solarian Autumnsong knew he ought to put on some weight, and perhaps go for more runs when his nose wasn’t buried in tomes of plant research. Every time he returned home for a few days of respite from his research partnered with the Reliquary, it was always the same. She would fuss over his torn clothing, small, lanky frame-- it was genetics, really!-- and the damp smells of the Jungle that clung to him as though nature herself had embraced him. But he supposed that came with being the youngest of four, and the last one to leave the nest to find his own destiny. He was no longer a youngling, for light’s sake! What would it take for people to understand?

Solarian was born at the tail end of the second war. His elder brothers were blood knights, like their father before them, and he’d been expected to become the same. But Solarian shared the disposition of his sisters. One was an arcane magistrix teaching at the Sunfury Spire, while the other found her calling doing research with the Kirin Tor, only to sadly perish at their hands during the purge of Dalaran. When he seemed not to crave the glory of battle like his brothers, Solarian’s mother secretly sighed in relief, although once she realized the possibility of him being eaten by a raptor or getting speared by blood ritualist trolls was real, the worry came back.

Having studied extensively in Silvermoon and Shattrath City for most of his somewhat sheltered life, the young elf had a boundless thirst for knowledge when it came to studying medicine, herbalism, and alchemy. The three went hand in hand, and with all of the fighting and strife that was quite literally tearing Azeroth asunder, Solarian wanted to be a light. He didn’t want to lurk in the shadows of his siblings’ achievements, or under the protective, controlling hand of his mother. It was during the Legion’s invasion to Azeroth that he really pulled himself away from home, unable to sit by and wait for others to lay down their lives. Maybe he wasn’t a warrior, but he could do something.

His lack of battle prowess was replaced by a gnawing curiosity to understand the world around him, and a desire to develop his gifts for wielding light magic, creating protective barriers. Not to mention an innate ability to learn and adapt quickly. Not to mention his still-developing but already advanced alchemical skills.

Every four to five days, Solarian was given time off to return to the city and tend to personal business. He took the time to pay for a portal to Silvermoon in order to bring home a few samples for his own laboratory at home, and bring back provisions or supplies that he couldn’t easily find in Zandalar. It was just another such visit when he met Sandellis.

As he began to make his way back and out of the city, he hadn’t counted on his packmule, Rennsley, being so stubborn that he stopped him in the middle of the city, but perhaps it had been serendipity at work. He wouldn’t have noticed the lone Illidari otherwise, after all. Solarian saw the blood first, then the bright, crimson tattoos over his broad, dark shoulders. Apparently, he’d been injured in a scrap at the unsavory Row (that Sol typically avoided like the plague!), but the story of his opponent hanging by the pants over a lamp post made Solarian laugh. He’d been in scraps before, but had no such stories to tell that would be of remote interest to an Illidari. Thankfully, the other allowed him to bandage the bloodied wound, and an unlikely conversation sprang up between them, tucked away into a corner of the city unbothered by any odd stares or murmured whispers.

Solarian told him of his love for the jungle and the world outside of the crystaline spires of the Sin’dorei, and of how he wished he could have been born a druid. The Illidari seemed to have no one to come home to, and nothing to his name. How was it possible that people who’d done so much to save the world come home to nothing? All the blond elf could offer were a few ripe sunfruits, and a blanket, along with a promise that he would return in a few days to tell him more of his adventures.

“You’re too nice for your own good,” Sandellis said, sightless face turned in the herbalist’s direction.

Solarian’s brows furrowed in thought and in bristling defense. He was always having to justify his deep-seated desire to help. Don’t feed that cat! Don’t feed those compys or saurid hatchlings! Don’t give your gold to those performers, they’re scammers! Solarian wasn’t completely daft, or someone to be taken advantage of, but he did wear his heart on his sleeve a little more than he probably should have. Perhaps he was still young and not yet jaded by the ways of the world. Nevertheless, it wasn’t pity, and it wasn’t a sense of self-righteousness that drove him, he believed. He wasn’t trying to persuade anyone of anything, but rather wanted to make it easier for people to exist in a world so plentiful of resources. If he had plenty, why would he not want to give? Magic may have been the birthright of all Sin’dorei, but not everyone could conjure the basic necessities required for living. Was that not what those on the front lines fought for? To live?

He made up his mind that he would return to the city in a few days with more sunfruit. He would also experiment with combining starlight rose, river bud, and Akunda’s bite with whistlebloom juicy fruit for a paste that would help quell the ravenous mana thirst inside the Illidari. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t, but it wouldn't hurt to try, would it? What if it could help others?

                                                🌱🌱🌱