Relar tugged his helm down snug as he arrived in Silvermoon, the city feeling almost foreign to him now. Half a year had passed since he’d really make his presence known in this town as Mr. Mask. Half a year since he waltzed into Lellith’s bar and she named him. And now? She was married. And he was married. Funny how these things went…
But today was not a day for reminiscing. Today was a day for action and trickery, conniving and cunning. He wasted no time heading straight for the Inn, finding it empty save for one lone priestess in a corner and a hunter boasting about his latest hunt. He managed not to snort as the man bragged about his bravery and instead went to the bartender, greeting him by name and having some idle chatter about his wife and kids and what they’d accomplish since his last stay in Silvermoon, many many months ago now.
Finally he ordered himself a meal and drinks before heading to an open table. From here he had a view of both entrances, and more importantly a clear shot to the rafters for a quick escape. It would be a good place to wait. He took out his porcelain mask, the red smile bright and visible, and simply set it on the table as a greeting. And then he waited.
A woman with braided, rust-colored hair and wire-frame glasses slipped quietly inside. The satchel she wore bore the sigil of the Reliquary stamped on flap. She offered a polite if quiet greeting to the bartender as she took a seat on the stool, pulling a thick journal from the satchel and setting it out on the bar. She smiled, sliding a few coins to the man as he set a drink down in front of her. The journal opened with the light creak of the leather-bound cover as she perused it, seemingly uninterested in anything else going on in the inn.
At long last, the server arrived, tray balanced on one hand as she slid the plate of food in front of him, then the drink. "Are you expecting someone sir?" The voice was familiar to him, full of barely restrained amusement.
"I would not say no to some lovely company actually." He answered charmingly as he looked up at the server. She did not look like he recalled, but then again, neither did he.
The woman smiled sharply, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. "That is sweet of you." She slipped into the chair opposite of him, adopting a lazy, boneless pose.
"Why thank you. But truly, how could I possibly resist the opportunity for a chat." He inclined his head at her, meeting pleasantries with his own, "So rare these days to find someone who speaks the same language as you."
She lifted her glass, taking a small sip before replying. “How very true. Though, I have found that if one merely,” she flicked a finger, “stirs the nest, so to speak, it isn’t as rare as one might think.”
Relar leaned back into his chair, seeming just as relaxed even in the presence of the woman he knew poisoned Lily. “I suppose that’s true. But I find… everyone has found a certain sense of… lethargy lately. A certain… disinterest in such conversation.” Oh how this conversation felt familiar. Had he not shared a similar one in Dalaran with another dangerous fellow?
She set her glass down, taking the time to set it in exactly the right spot before replying. "It is a shame really. I lived for those conversations."
“Times changed it seems, almost made us obsolete.” He tapped his fingers on the table and sighed, “But there are some… who share those thoughts. They offer very… fascinating and engaging conversations. The kind where you’re just dancing on a wire.”
“Those are the best kinds of conversations, I think. They make one feel…" she shivered. "Alive." She gave him an amused look. "But I am sure you know that."
“Indeed. We’re quite often misunderstood for that… but it’s always a pleasure when you find someone who can give you that little thrill.” His hood fully hid his gaze and expression but she could hear the amusement and grin in his tone. Fel help him, he did live for this once. That rush of saying one thing, meaning another, and all the time waiting to see who struck first.
She snapped her fingers suddenly, leaning forward. “I am suddenly reminded.” Her eyes glittered. “Did you enjoy my little wedding present? It wasn’t much, which I am sorry for, but I only had so much time to prepare after all.”
"Well first, do allow us to extend our apologies. You see, the ceremony itself was very private, and no one attended it. But we did plan to host a celebration later, so I am happy to say you have not missed the party." He inclined his head, "As for your timely wedding gift, I was impressed by how well crafted it was. Obviously you put much thought and care into it."
She smiles, satisfied. “It wasn’t much, I do apologize for that. And your wife? How did she find my sister’s gift?”
“A smidge painful at first cut I admit, but then again, these simple mundane things always are.” He chuckled, hiding the urge to reach over and rip her throat out for hurting Lily, “Ask any scribe right? All those paper cuts…” He gave a little shrug, “The note was an especially nice touch but I do feel like we didn’t quite get the full effect.” A lie, a bold one, but he had to know how much she knew, if she’d witnessed Lily’s pain.
"Well that IS unfortunate. We will have to try again I suppose."
"The sentiment was very much appreciated though, and you should know you two are the first to give us any type of wedding gift. So we are grateful for that."
"Most excellent. It is always nice being the first to know."
"Well you know, technically, my wife was the first to know." He chuckled pleasantly before adding, "I do apologize that she could not come join us here today. Silvermoon is not quite as… accommodating as it used to be."
"Yes, I do look forward to meeting your esteemed wife, as does my sister." She smiled apologetically. "I am sorry. Perhaps next time will find a more suitable venue."
“To be fair, it’s so hard to find a good neutral location these days. Always people listening in, barging in. And well, people just don’t feel safe anymore wherever they go.” He shrugged a little. How easy it was to play this game, every word heavy with meaning and double entendre, and she easily kept up with him. This is why she was so dangerous to him and his new life.
“It keeps one on their toes, to be sure. Never knowing when someone has a knife aimed at their back. Or their loved ones’.” A thinly veiled threat there, but it was expected. And so far, they had proven that they could reach them at any time, even deep within Ironforge.
"I suppose so, yes, but it does make having simple conversations a tad more cumbersome. I was never a big fan of all the cleanup needed when too many overheard."
"You should look at it as more of…an insurance policy against any rash action taken in the heat of the moment."
He considered her a moment and inclined his head in acknowledgement, "I suppose I should, though it has me at a slight disadvantage I am not accustomed to having. I mean… have you met my friends. They all tend to be quite… rash."
“I am afraid I haven’t had the pleasure as of yet. I am certain that we will meet them soon enough.”
"Well I assure you, they are very eager to meet you." He chuckled. Oh yes, all of them were eager to meet, and none would nearly as patient or conversational as he was being.
“Oh, I can only imagine the things you’ve told them.”
“Associate Professor Blightblighter is not here!” His voice sounded like it flew by overhead at a high speed and vanished into the distance. The red-haired scholar looked up, murmuring something along the lines of ‘…what the fu…’ before shaking her head, ordering another drink, and returning to her journal.
Relar also looked up at the voice and just chuckled before returning his attention to his guest. "Now you have me curious, what do you think I would be telling them?"
She did not look away at the voice, taking a small sip before leaning forward to murmur, "Secrets that should have stayed in the tunnels." She smiled, her eyes hard.
Sunstrife secrets then. Those tunnels had been the catalyst to so much, but he was finding that not all of it was bad. Still. He sighed, "I should have never gone back to those damn tunnels." With a tilt of his head he looked at his arm and reached out with the other to rub it, almost like it was hurting him just by talking about Sunstrife. "And yes, I shared more than I ever thought I would."
"You should have left it alone. We thought you were dead with the rest." She stood up, leaving a small vial at her side of the table. "Say hello to your wife Alan." Alan. So she had not learned his real name yet. He still had some secrets.
"Before you go. Two questions for you. The first being painfully obvious and predictable, but necessary to simply ask. What do you want from me?" He looked at her arm, knowing she also wore the same hidden runes he did. "And if that could be removed… would you like to know how?"
She smiled gently. “Come now Alan. That is like the mouse asking the cat what they want.” Her eyes flicked down to her arm, before looking back to him. “Unlike you, we aren’t ashamed of who we are. It stays.”
"You wound me. I am not ashamed. But I have evolved beyond his teachings."
"We are tools Alan. Nothing more, nothing less." She reached over to gently pat his cheek. "Give your wife our best, will you?"
"Tools need someone to wield them. Who wields you now?"
She simply smiled. "Good night Alan." She turned to walk away, before pausing. "You really should see to your wife. Leaving her in the care of a mute half-breed? Tsk tsk. Very sloppy."
Icy dread course through him. That… she should not know. No one but the Feathers knew where Lily was, and who was sitting with her in that room. But he hid his fear well, simply rising to pay for his untouched meal and drink, “Don’t you worry, I will take very good care of her. Send my regards to your sister. We will see you both again very soon.”
"I look forward to it." She inclined her head, before turning to slip out through the door.
The scholar murmured to herself, then quietly finished her drink and tucked the journal away.
Relar watched her go before finally moving away from the table, his body tense as he walked out the opposite door. He had barely sets foot outside that he vanished from sight completely. He had learned much, and none of it was good. The only chance he had is that there was no one controlling the sisters. And tools without a master, without a purpose… were inherently weaker.
The scholar murmured again and snorted. She spent enough time to eat a sandwich before standing and leaving through the opposite door.