Our World, Our Times
There's people fishing in the fountain. The waters are crystal and clear, but the lines come back with scraps of cloth or ancient wishes. Tokens are taken, sold or thrown away, and the lines go back in the water, dredging up the past from nothing.
~*~
She's standing in the middle of the Undercity and there are scourge everywhere. Rhan'jin is fighting with the other grunts and she keeps her focus on him, forcing the disobedient light to answer, to help him stay whole.
It's not the first time she's fought for the safety of this forsaken city, but before it was just something they did. Sitting around at Phials when the alarms were sounded, patrons and shopkeeps answering the call, and why not volunteer with them?
She looks out at the uniforms around her, whispers another prayer, and tries to figure out when it was she became a soldier.
~*~
Open mic night, and the Zhevra is crowded. She's late, misses the first story, but creeps close enough to hear the ones that follow.
When the dark-coloured troll calls her up, she goes without worry. He's saying words she can't understand, but they're somehow comforting. She sits down again when he nods at her, and answers Rhan's look with a shrug and a smile.
~*~
Runes flash on the ground, bright red before the dirt bubbles and bleeds and the ghouls drop whatever they're eating in favour of the armoured troll.
She's noticed that he tends to piss off more than he could rightfully handle on his own. A part of her hopes it's extra confidence granted by her presence, but she's pretty sure he'd do the same without her. He fights, and she heals the scratches, bites, rends, tears that get around the armour, and ignores the decayed body parts that pile at his feet.
~*~
There are hammocks upstairs in the Filthy Animal. With the glitz and stone of the city she'd expected beds, even Silvermoon loungers.
The ropes creek as she lies down, kicking her foot at the last minute to start it swinging. If she closes her eyes, it's almost like being back in Grom'gol. Right before she falls asleep, she imagines she can hear the ocean.
~*~
The charge slams into her back, knocks her senseless. She can't think, and her shadows have been cleansed. There is no easy response to save her, and the axe digging into her leg drops her to the ground.
It's a felguard looming above her, but it's the warlock behind that captures her attention. Scars on his face, that too-familiar face, where the bindings have been torn off.
Her shadows are gone. Oh light, she hadn't imagined this result.
He smirks, throws something at her. Metal bands bounce off the arms she raises in weak defence. The shackles lie broken on the ground, and the meaning sinks in as her mind fills in arms and claws of clouded blue.
"You should have killed me," he says, angry and smug, motioning to the felguard with a lazy wave.
The sword that juts through his chest is frozen, shining, and unexpected by them both. The felguard changes targets in an instant, leaves her bleeding on the ground as it attacks the plated figure attempting to cut its master's head off.
She sees the tusks and starts to laugh. Her knights in shining armour have always been trolls.
~*~
The Zhevra again, this time they're planning Hakkajin and Zy's future. Their suggestions get everything on the table thrown at them, and it's only her shield that keeps her from getting knocked out on the floor next to Xiuh.
She's laughing with the rest, but honestly hoping she does get to babysit one day, and iddily wonders if troll babies are born with tusks.
~*~
She's sitting beside the body, her hand in red fur, feeling the hound's last warmth drain away. They weren't close, she just played hunter after all, but she's crying. It's for the loss of her poor stolen puppy, but also for the family Inanna represented, one of her few connections to the ones that left.
It doesn't seem right, to hand Inanna over to the well-meaning stable master to do away with, but she can't figure out where to leave her. Tirisfal was where Inanna came from, but she cannot leave her in that sick earth. Grom'gol was her first thought, but that'd be like burying that family for good, and she can't quite do it.
In the end, she goes to Eversong, where they learned to listen to each other, and buries Inanna not far from Leiral's tree.
~*~
They're standing on a cliff, looking down at dead little dragons flying on frozen wings, shambling undead vrykul, and insane cultists. It's the same cliff they stood on yesterday, and the day before, each time going down to try and thin the numbers.
Each day coming back to find them thick as ever.
He starts walking, and turns around when he realises she's not following. Ice blue eyes ask the question, and she shakes her head.
"It never ends."
He chuckles, motions over to the tournament tents can just be seen. "Given this is our life now, meybe that ain' a bad thing, eh?"
She laughs, hearing the sound reflected back from the snow, covering her mouth when it attracts one of the vrykul. He snags it with a flash of purple, and they leave it crumpled on the ground behind them.
This is their life.