Heresy

(to be read after Emotional Rescue and The Atonement - this part is also not yet complete.)
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Selwan spent the next night restless, uneasy despite her confession to Ledgic. As she tossed and turned, in a state of half-sleep, the full moon glowed up above, stars glittered in the sky, partially obscured by the gentle misty fog that blanketed Terrokar Forest most evenings. She wasn't sure how much she'd actually gotten - if any.

So it was a somewhat tired Draenei that greeted Narm later that morning, the mage resplendent as usual in brilliant robes of red and gold, crackling and glittering quietly with arcane magic. His hair, the colour of a bronze coin, glinted in the morning light. He was somewhat hard to miss, unlike his reclusive rogue brother.

In fact, Narm wasn't like Aeron much at all- though they shared some facial resemblance, the similarities ended there. If Narm was an open book, Aeron was the locked diary. At least that's how Selwan had percieved them to be.

The elder rogue was somewhat elusive and mysterious, radiating a kind of subtle electric energy. By contrast, Narm seemed grounded, even mellow most of the time, a man that spoke calmly, and with reason even in dire circumstances.

So when Selwan blinked sleepily and rubbed her eyes before greeting her oft-time companion on the steps of the inn, it didn't register at first that anything was wrong.

"Lady Selwan.." he bowed his head politely, standing just before her.

"Narm, good morning.." she dipped her own head and smiled before reaching for her weapons to strap to her sides.

Selwan laughed softly to herself. So there was one thing the brothers had in common - they were exceedingly polite. Always.

Her laugh was cut short by a sentence she didn't expect to hear.

"I...heard my brother was the one that purchased you at the Guard auction..."

She paused, looking up from her axe a moment, hands still resting at her waist. She knew she was blushing; she hoped he hadn't noticed.

"Yes...yes, that's right. It was exceptionally good of him to do so, though I fear he nearly bankrupt himself in the process. I'll do what I must to ensure that doesn't happen."

The weapons firmly attached, she lifted her pauldrons and began strapping them onto her shoudlers, looking at Narm curiously. "News travels fast.." she mused, slightly surprised that Narm had already found out.

"Word spreads fast in Stormwind, milady."

"I'm beginning to see that quite clearly."

Narm hadn't smiled this entire time - it suddenly struck Selwan that his face seemed slightly strained, something she rarely saw in his youthful features.

"Narm..are you alright? You seem a bit.." she was cut off then by his words.

"Mila...Selwan.." he stopped and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You think a lot of my brother, don't you. I can tell."

Selwan blanched, blinking in surprise. "Yes..well yes, Narm, I always have, he is ...a good friend, I care a great deal for him."

"Then I think you should know...well..perhaps this says it better than I can."

The mage reached into his cloak then, his velvet-gloved fingertips dissapearing into folds of satin a moment before extracting what she knew immediately was a letter.

Something made her feel dizzy a moment; a foreboding feeling, a lightning bolt of fear that left her as swiftly as it came.

She extended her hand to his own, and pulled the paper slowly from it, and began to unfold it.

As she did, Narm began to speak, in calm but careful tones that hardly matched the gravity of what he was actually telling her.

Selwan began to read, halfway hearing him as she tried to make sense of a correspondence never meant for her eyes.



Sir Narm Morieth,

Tonight has been a grand night, don't you agree? Of course it is..for us at least. Its taken us months, but
tonight our order succeeded. Oh, the sweet taste of victory.

However as the only remaining Morieth, you know too much about what's going on. I suggest you either
travel far, far away, or suffer a similar fate. I assure you, your bloodline is a tough nut to crack.

Make your choice fast, Mr. Morieth.

-VS



...the only remaining Morieth...
...the only remaining Morieth...

She barely heard Narm's words through the sinking, sick fog that her mind was becoming as the reality of that phrase began to dwell upon her.

"Aeron.." she mumbled dully, her hand falling to her side, partially crushing the paper within it. "They're talking about ..Aeron.."

Narm nodded, finally letting his hand fall. "Milady, he is skilled. I know if anyone can get out of such a situation, I know my brother can."

She merely blinked, leaning against the wall weakly a moment before she looked up at him in alarm.

"You...you're in danger too then.."

"Somewhat, yes, but I can handle myself."

"That's what Aeron would say."

She slumped down to the steps, tears welling in her eyes. "I can't believe he's dead, I won't believe it. We must hope, Narm - for ourselves, for him..

"There is always hope, Lady Selwan. But I should be careful if I were you. Chances are they've seen you with him too."

Selwan's head snapped up, looking at the mage curiously, her mouth open. "I've nothing they could want."

"I don't know. But its best I find to err on the side of caution in these matters."

A part of Selwan suddenly was frustrated with her old friend for his relentless..calm..how could he be this way when it was apparent that his own brother might be dead? Then again, the letter had gone to Narm....how much did Narm know about Aeron's fate - why he'd even be in danger? Did it have anything to do with their long-standing feud?

For a sickening moment Selwan stepped back and gazed at the tawny-haired mage with a mixture of confusion and fear. Surely not...Narm was many things but she had no reason to believe he was dangerous.

"How can you be so damned CALM?" she finally snapped, eyes blazing, her arms raised before him.

Narm looked shocked at her outburst; Selwan was not one to yell, particularly at a friend. "Milady..because it does me no good to be otherwise. Nothing more. I can only hope he has managed to survive somehow."

His eyes flickered; a shadow of sorrow crossed his features, then was gone. As private as Selwan was, Narm seemed even more so. Not even grief was allowed to escape.

She swallowed and stood, looking at him, her jaw firm even as she still fought back tears.

"There's something I must do." she stated before slipping into ghostwolf form, howling mournfully, a ragged low animal sound she would never dare make in her normal form...

...and bounding out of the Conclave towards the nearby river, dissapeared into the trees.

Narm mounted up and followed the shaman, confused by her sudden actions.

__________________
"I wrote the story myself. It's about a girl who lost her reputation and never missed it." - Mae West
Fireflower's Words of Wisdom: http://i200.photobucket.com/albums/a...ompilation.jpg

Heresy

The river that flows thru Terrokar forest is chilly and clear; flowing swiftly through the dark and emerald woods.

Selwan had paused, still in her ghostwolf form, near its banks. Nearby a totem pulsed softly; a healing one, its gentle sea blue aura radiating around it.

Narm arrived at her side and dismounted; His horse snorted and began grazing idly nearby as he approached her. Romathis had been tethered to the stallion and he had obediently followed.

The mage noticed that the fur of her legs was wet, as if she had been in the river itself. He could smell it, a faint smell - not quite like that of a living wolf so much as the shadow of one, as if one had passed by some moments ago.

Other than briefly glancing up at him, she was lying still, nose on her paws, whining mournfully but strangely..as if she were speaking, but it was intelligible to the human standing near her. To him her sounds were small grunts and whimpers.

"Lady Selwan?"

At first she didn't respond; her tail thumped twice in response, knowing his voice without turning.

A few seconds passed before her form began to change, a delicate sparkle of light as the shade of the wolf's form faded and was replaced by the Draenei, sitting in the grass with her legs tucked beneath her, her tail partially hidden by the grass.

She stood, and turned to Narm and smiled slightly, weakly, before nodding at the totem and calling it back to the elements.

"Adare buran lok mannor ruk, re aman, re aman.." she whispered, and pulled a small leaf from her pocket.

Narm wouldn't know what fadeleaf was, but Selwan knew it by its shape and faint acrid scent.

She bent forward over the water and laid the fadeleaf upon it. She could feel the tears welling up again.

"Now..I have done all I can.", she murmured, watching the fragile leaf become caught up in the currents, floating swiftly away and finally out of sight.

"Have hope, Selwan." Narm spoke quietly and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Hope is all there is." She responded, still watching the rushing waters flow out into the wilderness.

"Come on..let's go. I've found us some work. It'll..take your mind off things for awhile, perhaps?" he patted her then; her chainmail clinking softly beneath the sound of his palm. She drew a deep breath and finally turned her back to the river and made her way towards their waiting mounts.

"Perhaps. Yes."

And then, more firmly. "Yes, you're right. Of course."

Resigned and shaken, it had been two days of pure emotion. An evening with Aeron, a confession to Ledgic with a promise that it was over.

She never imagined that this would be why.

She mounted up and as she did, her hand brushed against the flask, still swinging from her saddle. She blinked at it a moment, its silvery surface reflecting in the sun, before uncapping it and lifting it to her lips, drinking two generous swallows of the searing golden bourbon.

Narm watched her, but made no comment.

She wiped her mouth and with a grim, bleak scowl, clamped her helmet down on her head and nodded at him.

"Let's get out of here."

__________________
"I wrote the story myself. It's about a girl who lost her reputation and never missed it." - Mae West
Fireflower's Words of Wisdom: http://i200.photobucket.com/albums/a...ompilation.jpg

Heresy

(continued)..

A full's days fighting in the dusty barren land that was the Bone Wastes had managed to preoccupy her mind for some time. Fighting with the mage was a simple pleasure, half art and half battle, where his masterful control of one particular element - water - never ceased to amaze her.

The unassuming mage in the jarringly flashy gown was better at wielding water as an element than she was, and she knew it. Most of her water powers were honed to simply cleanse or rejuvenate. But water for a shaman was merely one element of four. Narm had abandoned fire to learn this quieter art..one not of raging obvious power but of a deadly, careful sort of control that at first seemed quite underpowered until the opponent, frozen at some distance and unable to move their limbs well at all, crumpled in an icy, lifeless heap.

Well..it was okay for some. Selwan had never been subtle. A fire totem blasting at her side, she extended her hands and cast a bolt of electrical energy at an approaching skeleton with a smirk.

Selwan thought about lightning, and how it really wasn't an element in itself at all, and yet it had become such a part of her repertoire. Though in some ways Selwan had eschewed elemental arts in favour of a simple axe-swing, she couldn't deny that the feeling of the raw natural power leaving her hands and rocketing through the torsos of her targets was somehow thrilling.

The mage and shaman continued their strange death-dance well into the evening hours, until coated with dust and sweat, exhausted and thirsty, they finally reported back to the Sha'tar and agreed to rest.

It was there that they parted company; Narm retired back to his temporary home in Allerian; Selwan's evening had just begun.

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Selwan had taken to bourbon because she liked the taste of it, the vaguely dangerous, golden promise of it as it slipped down her white throat and warmed her chest from the inside. Once upon a time, it had carried a certain forbidden appeal - It wasn't so much that her parents had been strict - both Tordal and Naala enjoyed a drink at festivals or celebrations, or evening at dinner. Memories of them now, though faint, occasionally came back to Selwan's young mind and she would smile, reflecting on her shaman father and warrior mother with fond remembrance, a bittersweet sort of longing to know them again now, as she had grown somewhat older.

That wouldn't happen, and she knew that too. The crash of the Exodar had ensured that her parents would be a memory, and her childhood a handful of torn-away pages from a book she would never write. In the blink of an eye, Selwan had gone from a relatively young and innocent girl into a bourbon-drinking, violent, passionate young Draenei with very little to guide her other than Nobundo's teachings and an inner voice that demanded relentless honesty from her when it came to everyone else but herself. She made choices on a whim, what felt right "that moment" and had only just now begun to understand the price that is - and always is - paid when choices are made.

She was - in some ways - still a child, despite her wisdom and intelligence, with no mother to guide her, and no father to protect her, Selwan was on a crash course with herself.

So maybe it was all of this, coupled with Aeron's dissapearance, her guilt over Ledgic, the lingering restlesness she felt among the Guard about being treated like a soldier, and the loss of her family still lingering deep within her psyche that caused it to begin - that caused her to drink just that little bit too much, for the wrong reasons.

Maybe.

Not that she thought about it as she ordered a double in World's End Tavern and sitting down on a bearskin rug near the wall, unconsciously began to drink away everything - the aching muscles, the aching conscience and the aching heart.

Inevitably in the calm atmosphere of a partially-filled Inn, a crackling fire nearby, her mind wandered to the truths that bourbon could not drown.

He cannot be gone....but if he was..

With a sick twist of her gut, disgusted with her own reasoning, Selwan had a flash of thought that Aeron's death would make her "decision" easier, that Ledgic would no longer fear the influence of the elder rogue and that Selwan would in turn go back to Ledgic and never have to worry about it again.

How can you think such things? Is your conscience so precious? Shame upon you, Selwan, and upon your house for such beliefs!

No, the reality would bring no relief. She knew that.

Aeron.

Dead.

She felt as if she had been punched in the stomach.

The tears begin to form and with an angry, frustrated little snarl she emptied her glass and gestured to the waitress for another.

"Rinse and repeat" she muttered, remembering something she'd heard in Stormwind once.

Ten bourbons later, a young shaman slept fitfully in the corner of a pub, whimpering in her sleep like a puppy.

__________________
"I wrote the story myself. It's about a girl who lost her reputation and never missed it." - Mae West
Fireflower's Words of Wisdom: http://i200.photobucket.com/albums/a...ompilation.jpg