I'm getting too old for this

[norcumi]

I can't recall the last time I sat down and wrote almost 5 pages in a day. That's the unformatted version, with no paragraph spaces and the like. lynati_1, haikujaguar, y'all are bad influences on me. -_-

So! There's not quite fic, but there's about 5 pages worth of Mass O' Writing, over use of dialogue and not nearly enough action, and I'm calling it a day. I'm not going to try to cram the last of this in so as to post on wow_fanart this week. This is still the unfinished, unpolished, haven't-gone-through-and-edited seriously-to-make-sure-it-works-rather-than-being-stuck-together-with-bubblegum-and-baling-wire version, though hopefully the final won't be too different. Oh, also, warnings for abuse of lore, which I suspect has very little to do with whatall I'm writing.


{} indicates spoken darnassian

The Gnome Who Cried Wolf

She couldn't help it, really. She'd helped destroy this land, and that after months of struggling to save it from the plague -

Truth be told, Kharisa couldn't quite bring herself to believe that the Lich King was gone. The Plaguelands still held too much of his mark, and even with the Argent Crusade and its new branches, the successes of the Cenarion Circle, and the enthusiasm of the human settlers, a small part of her soul couldn't help but to shiver. Perhaps it was truly touched by some hint of Arthas, perhaps it was just the memory of her death and undeath, but as they ventured away from Andoral the death knight spent more and more time on the alert.

Twas foolish of me,she sighed in her mind. It was, perhaps, inevitable. When several guild members had gathered under some excuse to drink, Hepzibet had declared her intent to go artifact hunting in the Eastern Plaguelands. Obyon and Sanjiyan had immediately jumped in and begged for an escort into the area – each in their quite differing and unique styles, one involving puppy dog eyes and the other demons and potential bodily harm. Given Hepzibet's easy distraction by any insect that wandered across her path, Kharisa had felt obligated to offer her assistance, though she felt needled by Prudance's immediate offer to "join in the fun."

It was not that she felt offended by the gnome's implication that she could not handle trouble, nor the alternate implication that she might lose her mind and will once again to the Lich King or any remnant of him. In the former case, if she could not withstand an attack, the rogue's combat skills would be welcome. In the latter case, she did not quite expect Pru to be able to handle a deranged death knight. Perhaps underestimating the gnome would be worthwhile in that situation, but nonetheless, she could come to appreciate the gnome's presence.

The constant watchfulness, on the other hand, grated. From the moment they left Hillsbrad the rogue had gone from casual and joking as was her norm to constantly scanning their surroundings, her head swiveling back and forth until the stiff pigtails standing up over her head more resembled the swaying horns of Hepzibet's ravager. The deep green eyes never settled on anything for more than a moment – aside from the death knight. Over and over again, Kharisa found herself glancing over – if nothing else, the black pigtails, each a bristle of at least six inches, were eye-catching – and almost every time the gnome's eyes were on her.

One would think my allies did not trust me, she thought with bitter wryness. Every time she thought she had gotten used to the distrust, such events tugged at her heart.

No matter. They accept me within reason, that should be enough. Taking a deep breath, she urged her nightsaber forward.

Throughout the day, she tried to ease into a more relaxed journey. She and Sanji discussed the effects of fel magic on the land, and Obyon chipping in with the occasional comment about the impact on the beasts around them.

Never Pru, though. It made Kharisa's skin crawl, given how she had always seen the gnome cheerful and laughing during the guild's revels and bar crawls. The grim, almost angry silence was made almost uncanny by the rogue's tendency to slip off into the woods only to return minutes later, uncaring and without comment about her errands.

Looking for a better vantage point to remove... threats? Searching for ore? Picking our pockets clean so we have nothing on hand for a last defense when – Oh Elune give me strength.

By dark, in the comfort of a reasonable camp, Kharisa's nerves were totally shot. She sighed as she looked around once again. Sanji had finally cornered Obyon, and was interrogating the poor worgen about the nature of his curse. Hepzibet was on first guard duty, so she and her mad ravager were patrolling the camp's borders. Prudance – Thank Elune. Prudance's bedding was spread out near the fire, and rose and fell with the gentle rhythms of one who knew how to grab whatever rest could be gained under any circumstances.

She gave a quick nod to Hepzibet as she snuck out of the camp, circling away from the small grove and partway up a hillock – still easily in shouting distance, but far away enough to gain some privacy.

After almost 20 minutes, the strange serenity of the renewed land saw her pacing in a wide circle around the camp. She wasn't exactly restless; she simply needed the evidence to believe this was the land she had seen dead and poisoned years ago. Perhaps a few rounds of patrol would settle her.

It was at the far end of the circuit when she saw the small figure seated on a large rock, staring off to the north. A quick glitter of those too judging green eyes, and then Prudance went back to her vigil.

I wonder if she's been here the whole time – could one of her engineering toys make for a suitable dummy in the bedding? - or was she waiting for me? She shrugged it off as she came in easy speaking distance, then gave a polite nod. "Prudance."

"I've told you before, I prefer just Pru. {And greetings to you too, Revered Lady,}" she added with a wry grin and flawless Darnassian.

Kharisa blinked, oddly struck by pangs at the sound of her mother tongue. "Ishnu-alah," she returned softly. "Though while I must compliment you on your language skills, your esteemed tutor mistranslated. You just called me by the title usually reserved for a powerful or favored priestess."

Pru gave an amused snort before going back to scanning their surroundings. "{I didn't misspeak. You were a priestess in life, were you not?}"

"{I no longer live, and thus do not deserve such titles. Even when I breathed for more than words, I would not hope to aspire-}"

"{Foolishness. You do not claim the title, I am granting it to you. It is quite reasonable for one who believes the other is worthy of such a title to call her such, and thus, Revered Lady, I shall address you so. 'Is not the value of the teacher found in the results of the student?' By the words of Myrinan, and basic logic, I win.}"

She couldn't stifle the startled laugh when in the midst of a classic logical proof, the gnome ended with a child's simplicity. "{Very well,}" Kharisa chuckled with a nod of acknowledgement, "{you do indeed win. Who taught you to speak so elegantly? You have an archaic flair to my language, though I did not think it was commonly taught to gnomes.}"

"{It is not,}" Pru answered softly, and her eyes went momentarily distant. "{I was very good friends with a kaldorei once. She taught me many things, as I hope I taught her.}"

Sensing a troubled topic, Kharisa looked away. The two sat in silence for long moments, but as the time stretched out the night elf found her dissatisfaction growing. Why? Was it sarcasm? Truth? Why would she call me that? The silence continued until she could contain herself no longer. "{Why call me Revered Lady when you distrust me so? Mockery?}"

"What?! {What gave you the ridiculous notion that I distrusted you?}"

Kharisa turned away from the gnome's baffled gaze. "{Why else would you watch me as you do? The entire time we have traveled here, you have been staring at me, watching me as if merely relishing the possibility that I will embark on a bloodthirsty rampa-}"

"{No! That was never – why on - } Oh, rusted gear teeth!" Pru sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face. "{Goddess bless, I was hoping to not have to explain this. No, Revered Lady, I have not been watching you maliciously, but I have been watching your back instead.}" She looked away and sighed again. "{A few questions, if you will. It will make this matter easier if I... know all that I am dealing with.}"

Watching my back? From or for what? "Ah?"

"{Your... memories. Tayranar has mentioned that you do not recall all that happened to you... before.}"

Though the gnome was still not looking at her, Kharisa had to look away. "Death... did more than change me," she admitted, unwilling to use Darnassian to speak of the Lich King's evils. It was perhaps not wrong, but certainly broken. "I do not clearly recall all of my life as I think I used to when I lived. Some fragments of my life and experiences are... hazy, unclear. I sometimes find prompts from outside sources enable me to recollect events, but there are still large chunks missing from my life. I do not even honestly know where they all are, or what they might contain."

"{Ah. Very well, then. Tell me, do you recall a kaldorei hunter who took the name Insolent Wolf?}"

Insolent – wait. She held up a hand as old recollections shifted, bringing muddied memories to the surface. It had been several years before she'd gone to the Plaguelands – before she had died. An older Sentinel – tradition bound in all the worst possible ways – had approached her with a strange request. The Sentinel had known Kharisa's mother, and the two had been if not friends, at least comfortable acquaintances. The woman's daughter was "rebelling in an awful, dishonorable fashion, telling the most obscene lies!"and she had wanted a priestess to talk to the "child" in confidence, presumably bringing her back to more reasonable behavior.

It had been curiosity, not old family favors, that had led to Kharisa agreeing. Said child had taken the use name of Insolent Wolf, clearly to tweak any elder she ran across let alone her tradition bound and inflexible mother. She flouted tradition and cultural heritage in the most flagrant ways she could find, protested against every cultural norm at her disposal, and was clearly trying to find any new way to scandalize Darnassus that would not get her dragged from the city itself.

The two women had started meeting regularly for a sedate meal and conversation – Wolf under clear protest and more than once at the points of her mother's war glaive. Kharisa had listened as the sullen woman had grumbled about corruption and cultural stagnation, given a few soft words of advice, and gone about her life. She had not believed much of what Wolf had preached, though after becoming a death knight she had begun to wonder how right the other had been.

"{Vaguely – not all of our conversations are clear to me. We... talked. Often. It satisfied her need to try to restructure kaldorei culture by force, and I think I gained a friend.}"

The silence was long, and painful. When Pru took a breath, it wavered loudly in the night air. "{Yes, Revered Lady, it did. She spoke highly of you. She – admired you greatly. I think she would consider it a great honor to be counted amongst your friends.}"

"{She is the one who taught you this language, then. I'm surprised; I would have expected her to demand you teach her yours instead!}"

The rogue didn't answer for quite some time. She spent it looking down at her hands. "{Do you recall her talking to you of the twain-souled?}" she asked softly.

"{It is a legend we have, since twins are so rare. It is a common element of story-telling, where- wait.}" The death knight held up her hand again, staring off at the starts. It had been the last time they had talked, shortly before Wolf had let Darnassus for Darkshore, Ashenvale, and Elune knew where else – and shortly before the Plague had struck the Eastern Kingdoms. Kharisa had finally asked in a moment of frustration just what Wolf had done to irk her mother so, and Wolf had gone silent. Sitting in the temple gardens, safe from any eavesdroppers, the priestess had expected the younger woman to tell her to take it to the Nether, assuming it was not curiosity but the intent to meddle in her life that led to the question. By the time Wolf had opened her mouth, Kharisa was more than ready to apologize. Once again, the hunter took her by surprise.

"I told her I was twain-souled."

"What?!" All the stunned priestess could do was stare. "That is just a legend, an excuse for young lovers to insist they are meant to be, or for old grudges to be carried out - "

"I know." Insolent Wolf had looked away, her eyes distant even as a smirk crept across her face. "Either you're an old fuddy-duddy and you need proof that you have only part of a soul, and the rest is out there inhabiting another body – not to mention how d'you prove that, since the old stories don't exactly go into the methods? - or you're reasonably modern and you think a person is a person is separate from anybody else out there. One soul, two bodies, eternally pushing or pulling the other, destined to leave a huge impact on the other's life, either as a lover or a foe or maybe both in the real epics – it's fertilizer of the worst sort, right? But what if." Wolf had turned back to her, eyes blazing with emotion. "What if you could feel it, could close your eyes and dream what your other half is doing? What if you knew things you couldn't possibly know, news that the fastest mage relays haven't delivered yet, or skills that you couldn't ever possibly learn? Either you're mad, meddling in the arcane, or truly touched. Right?"

"I - well - "

Thankfully, Wolf didn't seem to need an answer. "I know which Mother thinks it is. 'Insolence! Hubris of the worst sort!'" she thundered, before breaking into chuckles. "She thinks it's just lies for attention. As if I didn't know perfectly legitimate other ways of doing that."

"Then – why?"

The sharp featured hunter had turned to stare at her, and Kharisa had been shocked at the wisdom in her eyes. Wolf was centuries younger than she, but the silver eyes staring at her had held hints of patience, pain, and experience that she'd been certain Wolf had not had in Darnassus, and the hunter had not yet been allowed to leave the World Tree. "I will not subject my soul's twin to my mother's scrutiny. In the end, Mother would never believe it, and all that does matter is that I and my other half know what we are."

For a few breaths, the two had locked eyes. Kharia was the one to look away first. "Who?" she had dared to ask softly, and Wolf had laughed.

"Oh no," she'd chided with a wag of a finger, "no secrets are escaping me that easily! Ask me some other time. When it's more – prudent."

At the time, the pause had seemed almost natural, an only slightly longer than normal hesitation to find the proper word.

In the present, the memory had Kharisa's head snapping around to stare at Prudance. The gnome sat quietly, head titled to the side and one brow raised.

"You?" Kharsia gasped in disbelief. "But – you're not - "

And Prudance laughed, low and bitter and strangely, painfully familiar. "{Not kaldorei?}" she asked in the same archaic dialect Insolent Wolf's mother had always used, and Wolf so flagrantly mangled. "{Yes, that was a minor problem to the theory. Wolf loved the idea when she realized what was probably going on. More proof that the old ways were not sustainable. If tradition could not account for a kaldorei with the impatience and fiery temperament of a truly impetuous young gnome, then how would it take to a gnome with a kaldorei's interest in nature, or patience, or - }" She broke off with a weary sigh. "{In short, it was too impossible. We knew that. We – or I, at least – had come to accept it. What else could we do, for that matter?}"

After a pause, Kharisa forced herself to ask that which she'd never had the courage to approach Wolf with. "{What is it like? What made you decide you shared a soul?}"

"{The dreams, mostly. I'd dream of forest and trees, all the wonders of Teldrassil. She knew of Gnomeregan, engineering, the way 'Azeroth's younger races hurry through too much of their short lives'. She understood that drive in ways most kaldorei could never grasp. And really, how could a young gnome who'd spent her life in Gnomeregan know what it is like to tame a night saber?}"

"{Oh, Elune. Maybe you can tell me why she called it 'Thing'?}"

Pru's chuckle was wry. "{Not only did it make her mother irate, the damn beast is dumber than a post. Without her, he would probably have trouble catching an somewhat intelligent bunny.}"

"{Then what does it say that he was the first beast she tamed?}"

When all Kharisa got in response was a faintly amused snort, she sighed. This did not bode well. "{How has Insolent Wolf fared? Where is she now?}"

Elune's light was kind enough to show only the wrinkles edging Pru's eyes, while shading the sorrow within. "{Being insolent to the Goddess, as far as I can tell.}"

The death knight bowed her head. "{May your troubles be relieved, Wolf,}" she whispered. "{How?}"

There was another snort from the gnome, this time disgusted. She glared around, clearly not seeing the forest they sat in. "The damned Scarlet Crusade. Bastards." At Kharisa's look, she sighed. "{She joined the Argent Dawn, after – after.}"

Sweet Goddess. Am I responsible for yet another death? "{After?}"

Prudance refused to meet her eyes. "{She heard, Revered Lady, that you fell here. It was not the only factor in her decision, but – anyway. She joined the Dawn, and it was not something she regretted. She was happy here, Revered Lady. Her last months-}"

"{That is all she had? Months?}"

~end post~

Comments

[haikujaguar.livejournal.com]

Wait! You stopped!! Where's the rest?? 8o

[norcumi.livejournal.com]

Galloping around in my head, screaming to be let out. :-/ I'm expecting Monday or Tuesday for the rest.

[haikujaguar.livejournal.com]

*haunts your journal until it arrives*

[lynati-1.livejournal.com]

I can't read this until April 23rd, but I do want to comment and say it is totally AWESOME that you wrote! And promise to give me feedback after Easter, although you may have to poke me a reminder for this specific post.

[norcumi.livejournal.com]

Hee. Yes'm!

.... I forgot you were giving up fanfic for lent. Hmm. Does that mean talking to you about fanfic and ideas and the like are prohibited as well when you visit? I'm going to use my slash icon just to tease you in the mean time....

[lynati-1.livejournal.com]

No no, I specified "reading" fanfic, and dis-included my own work because it is hard to write something that you cannot read. Discussing it is, of course, always in; the idea was in part to lessen by one the number of things distracting me from working on my own projects. ^_^

[lynati-1.livejournal.com]

WOW. ...no pun intended, honest; that was my first reaction. *rushes to part 2*

[norcumi.livejournal.com]

Eee!