#tiragarde sound pasties are absolutely cornish pasties and those things are lush

[tess-grey-maned]

still here to drink alone

me? continuing this prompt? it's more likely than you think

with thanks to @blue-eyed-banshee for the prompt!

  “What do you mean, you’ve never had a Tiragarde pasty before? You told me you’d lived in Dalaran for months!”

  For a moment, Sylvanas can do nothing but stare blankly at the fury incarnate beside her, at the bright blue eyes that look fit to bulge out of her skull and Jaina’s mouth hanging open in soundless, wordless indignation at this perceived slight to her heritage. Belore take me, she’s hot when she’s angry, comes unbidden to her thoughts. “Jaina, I hail from Quel’Thalas,” she says, slowly, letting every syllable come out dripping in her Thalassian accent. “I was never in Tiragarde Sound.”

  “You mean, I’ve never been to Tiragarde Sound, we use the past- oh for the love of the Tides, you know how it’s meant to be said, you’re just making a point.”

  Sylvanas tries to wink at her, but it comes out as a tipsy blink.

  Throwing her arms up in frustration, Jaina turns back to the woman behind the counter. “Two Tiragarde pasties, please. I need to educate this heathen.” And, to Sylvanas: “Why’s your accent so different to the other elves I’ve met here?”

  “I come from southern Eversong. They probably come from Silvermoon. Did you really drag me away from Valtrois’ bar to talk about Thalassian dialects?”

  “Well, no, not as such, but forgive my curiosity, I don’t know many high elves, and I love languages.” And, so quietly that Sylvanas only catches it for her elven hearing: “Your accent is much sexier.”

  “I know,” she replies, just as subtly, and Jaina’s cheeks flush red.

  Pasties in hand, they emerge back out onto the street.

  “One of my colleagues at the University is married to a high elf,” Jaina says as they amble down a street, round the corner, feet taking them nowhere in particular. Sylvanas tries to nod at her to continue but it diverts her concentration from walking and she nearly topples face-first into the pavement. Belore thrice damn you, Valtrois, that wine was stronger than I thought- “But his wife’s been here for years, you’d hardly know she was from Quel’Thalas. Why’d you come here?”

  “I move around a lot.” The street lights make Jaina’s hair shine a beautiful flaxen blonde. Even Lady Sun would be outshone by this human. “Not Kul Tiras, yet, but I’ve lived in Orgrimmar and Lordaeron, learned Orcish and Common there, even a couple of weeks in Northrend, hated it by the way. Then I got sick in Northrend and came home early. My sister and her husband live here, so I’ve moved into their spare room until she has her twins.”

  “Oh, so you’re going to be- twins? Wait. Hold on. Is your sister called Vereesa?”

  “Yes- Belore take me, you work with Rhonin, don’t you. I should have guessed.”

  Jaina bursts out laughing. “Damn the Tides. I finally find someone as gorgeous as you, and she’s the sister of my boss’ wife. Just my luck.”

  “Rhonin wouldn’t care- gorgeous?”

  Jaina splutters. “Do you own a mirror, Sylvanas Windrunner?”

  “No, it’s not- more that- I wasn’t expecting-”

  “Full sentences now.”

  Sylvanas turns. Focuses fully on Jaina. “Jaina,” she says, ensuring to enunciate every word in her thickest Thalassian accent, “if you wanted to take me home, you had but to ask, in that delectable Kul Tiran accent of yours.” Jaina swallows hard, her face bright red. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “The answer would have been-”

  One moment she’s upright, and the next Jaina’s bracing her a few inches from the floor.

  Sylvanas hiccups miserably. “-yes,” she finishes, and suppresses the urge to be very un-sexily sick. “I’m going to kill Valtrois.”

  “I’m calling us a cab,” Jaina says, already fiddling with her phone. “Told you you’d give yourself alcohol poisoning.”

  “’S not the worst poisoning ‘ve had,” Sylvanas slurs. Jaina’s so warm. So soft. “Pro… pro tip, never eat bread from Andorhal Baking Company.”

  “Is that why you had to come back from Northrend?”

  What was left of me, she thinks but doesn’t say-

  Wait. Jaina said she knew Vereesa. “Can you call Reesa for me? Tell her… tell her I’m safe with you? She… worries.”

  Jaina pauses, just for a moment. A smile broadens over her face. “I will,” she says, and wraps her arm fully around Sylvanas. “You are. Safe with me, I mean.”

  Sylvanas hiccups again. “’M sorry to have ruined our plans,” she mumbles. “Don’t usually drink this much.”

  “You’re allowed to let go. Vereesa said you were always the sensible one growing up, first to learn to drive, first to go to university, the whole shebang, so you get to make stupid decisions. You’ve earned it.” Jaina’s phone pings. “Just not within earshot of Arthas.”

  “Who?”

  “My ex. Big guy at the bar. You’d hate him. His family is a majority shareholder in Andorhal Baking Company.”

  “Oh, I wish you’d told me that while we were there. I would’ve pulled his teeth out one by one with a-”

  “Vereesa says to make sure you drink lots of water, and Rhonin will come pick you up in the morning.” Jaina angles her phone screen so Sylvanas, going slightly cross-eyed in the process, can read it. “And I think that’s our cab pulling up. Think you can get yourself upright?”

  “Yeah- yeah, I can.” And she does, holding onto Jaina all the while. “Hey, I get to see your bed one way or the other tonight, so I’m happy.”

  “Depending on what you’re doing tomorrow night,” Jaina says, walking with her towards the car waiting patiently for them, “you can see it again, but let’s talk about that in the morning. Hi there- Proudmoore?”

  The cab driver motions her in.

  It takes Sylvanas a moment, as she fumbles with her seatbelt, to remember where she knows that name from. “Proudmoore Shipping Company, right?” she mumbles as they pull off. “Why in the name of all that’s touched by Belore would you be working at the university in Dalaran when your family owns most of the ships on Azeroth?”

  “Why are you not working at the military headquarters in Silvermoon?”

  Sylvanas blinks. “Ah, so we’re both disappointments. Got it.”

  Jaina’s smile is tinged with sadness when she turns towards her. “For what it’s worth, Vereesa worships the ground you walk upon. Never a bad word to say about you.”

  “That’s because Minn’da was too busy raising an army to raise her children. And I have had far too much wine to talk about that.”

  “Home, water, warm pasties back up, eat pasties, sleep. In that order.” Jaina’s fingers intertwine with hers. “Hope you like cats, by the way.”

  “Ah, yes, I must try this- you have a cat?!”

  “Erm, two actually.”

  “Jaina,” Sylvanas says, fixing her bleary gaze on Jaina, who bursts out laughing. “You have so much to learn about flirting with an elf. This should have been the second thing I found out about you, after your name. How dare you hold out on me like this.”

  “I promise to make it up to you tomorrow night.”

  Sylvanas hiccups, nods sagely. “Promise accepted. I would pinky promise, but I’m not sure I could find which one’s my pinky right now.”

  And Jaina starts laughing again. It’s a beautiful laugh, Sylvanas thinks. Very beautiful.

  Like Jaina.

-0-0-

  Jaina wakes in the morning to the sight of Sylvanas lying flat on her back, hands folded over her chest like some cartoon vampire, and both of Jaina’s cats splayed snoring on top of her.

  “Yes,” she mumbles, easing out from beneath the covers, “you were right, Sylvanas. I should have started with the cats.”

-0-0-

(this chapter inspired by the time i had two surprisingly potent cocktails at a voice acting conference and stood up too quickly and would've gone face first into the pool had a lovely casting director not caught me. one way to make an impression ig)