Masquerade's End ((RP))

About 200 years ago, Murder Row, Silvermoon

The woman was desperate, frantic. Her body ached and she craved for a hit, for something. Her mind had been lost to the addiction for years now and she would do anything for that next hit, for that quick fix. Spreading her legs had been one of the easiest things she’d done, but even that was not working anymore. Maybe it was because of the burden she carried under her arm. No one wanted to pull a nursing mother in a dark alley for quickie. She glared at the silent bundle she held, her mind unable to accept it was hers, her son, her baby boy. Instead all she saw was something that kept her from getting her hit, from feeling good. And she never hesitated to tell him just that.

And for that reason, she was the perfect mark. And that boy, already unloved and shown the harshness of life, was the perfect candidate.

So when a masked man in dark clothes offered her gold and a supply of high quality bloodthistle in exchange for her son, she practically threw the boy at him.

And so it was that the boy who would one day be known as Alan Mask became the property of Lord Sunstrife.

The years crawled by slowly for the child. He was raised deep inside a cave on the Sunstrife Estate, him and dozens of other babies as Lord Sunstrife raised an empire of rogues and assassins to do his bidding. The man was equal parts genius and insane and knew that to condition the perfect army, he need them from the start.

And so, for almost 150 years, he raised them. Trained them. Put them through rigorous training. Broke their minds, over and over until all was left were cold and deadly husks with no concept of morality. He methodically taught them about all the good things in life before ripping them away. He punished their bodies with poisons and torture, teaching them all they needed to know to kill and not be killed. How to hurt but not feel pain. How to break others but not be broken. He made puppets, molded them just how he wanted and for a moment he thought himself invincible.

Until came the day one of them stood over him, death incarnate. And as Lord Sunstrife laid there, bleeding to death from the stumps that were once his arms and legs while waiting for the scourge to get to him… He felt nothing but pride. His creations would be unleashed on the world now. And this man, the child once called 16 and the Smiling Red Devil… was one of his greatest successes.

But not the only one. There were others like him. Maybe even… better than him.

Present Day, Zuldazar

Alan Mask stared out over the city, mulling over the information he had just learned. Someone had put out a hit for him, someone from his past. And while that first threat had been eliminated… he couldn’t shake the feeling that more would come.

More like him who had been created by Lord Sunstrife and carried the madman’s legacy.

And he knew they would not just target him, but all those he held close. All those that could be used as a weakness.

They would target her .

The rogue tugged his helm on tighter before jumping off the pyramid and into the shadows, dark thoughts swirling through his mind.

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There wasn’t really anything left of the garden. Just a few withered and burnt vines and badly scorched stone. The druid’s free hand ran through the ash and soil. How symbolic, she thought to herself. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes before scooping a small hole. A small, tattered piece of charred tabard went in first, followed soon after by a single pebble that nearly matched the Cathedral stairs. Murmuring softly in Darnassian, Lily re-covered the items. It had only taken an instant to bring everything to a crashing halt.

Everything that had tied her to walls of stone and cramped quarters was dissolved, now. A career. A marriage that she shouldn’t have promised herself to; Lily was acutely aware she had never been able to sit still long enough to be a good wife to Thaddius. Her nostrils flared slightly at the thought, although the papers had been signed and filed. It was time to go. Her business was concluded.

Clutching a small bag of chocolates close, she rose and dusted off her skirt. The druid turned her feet toward the mage quarter. Dalaran and breakfast were waiting. And so was someone with the most insatiable case of sweet tooth she’d ever met.

Alan knew this was a bad idea. Right down to his very core, every reflex hammered into him by years of training told him to stay out of sight. He knew he should stay in hiding, completely erase his presence for a couple years, decades if need be. Re-assume a new identity elsewhere, go further underground. He should not give anyone a chance to find them. But… He did not want to run away with her, stay endlessly hidden away in their home. He refused to put that burden on her as well. He wanted to be able to go do things with her, go to the Tavern, go to the Lounge. Live fully and freely.

So he forced himself to look at this like a job. His task was to flush out a hidden mark and eliminate them. First he needed to scope out the town, find out who had been making waves recently, which rooms were now being rented out. Then he would throw out bait, set up a trap, and prepare for the worse. He wasn’t even -sure- someone was after him but… his gut warned him he was not safe. And he had not survived this long by simply ignoring those gut instincts.

So, against common sense, the rogue went to Silvermoon. He had promised he would not parade around as Anthon Sunstrife today. Instead, drawing on all his abilities to blend and stay out of sight, he started with casing out the inns, watching, listening, gathering any information he could. He had many contacts in the city, and he knew which ones would not hesitate to double-cross him. It was time to rattle some branches, and see what fell out.

And pray no one found him until they were ready.

It took some searching but eventually he found the perfect mark. He had always kept a list, people who had wronged him one way or another, people to keep an eye on and one day pay back. His own kill list as it were. This particular one was a shifty dealer, unscrupulous and always cutting corners. The man was always selling polluted thistle and robbing people blind and on more than one occasion had tricked Alan’s clients into trying his merchandise and making them overdose. He was the perfect victim.

All he had to do was kill him. Leave the Smiling Red Devil’s calling card on him. It would be a warning. A message.

But was it the right thing to do? Would the others approve? Unaccustomed to working with others, the rogue found himself facing a moral dilemma, not at the act of killing but rather at whether his friends would approve of it.

But time was of the essence, and he only had a small window to act in. And so the rogue reached into his vest and pulled out an old white ceramic mask with a smiling red face on it. He had not worn this mask in many decades, a symbol of his old life. But now… now for the sake of the future he wanted, he would become that Smiling Red Devil once more, and he would not hesitate to do what was necessary.

Silent and deadly, he dropped down from his perch and approached his mark. He waited until the man was alone and without hesitation or remorse slit the man’s throat, a gloved hand over his mouth to keep him from making a sound. It was a quick death and he lingered only long enough to dip his fingers in the man’s blood and drawing a smiling face on the dead man’s cheek. He then left the body there, confident it would be discovered in the next day or two.

And he knew that those who recognized the symbol would see this as a warning.

And anyone who still dared pursue him… was at least his equal or better.

And that alone was already very telling.

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Alilyanna was not and would never be a warrior, at least in any sense most fighters might define the term. Her strength was flexible tenacity; the willowy tree that could bend in the harshest wind, relying that its deep roots would hold firm. She could soothe, cajole, reassure, and heal. Weapons that were often both underestimated and underutilized.

“Close your eyes and listen.” The sound of wind rushing past, the splash of water. Trapped in stone walls and he’d give her the wilds over a 'stone. She reached over and brushed an errant lock of hair off his forehead. No, she couldn’t fight this for him…but she could remind him what the goal was in surviving. This had been as sudden and abrupt as the explosion. He’d seen through every screen she put up, while she’d done the same. Nothing had prepared her for connecting with someone like this, except maybe the exquisite sensation of falling until her strong wings appeared and caught her.

She’d catch them both if she had to. Lily leaned in and kissed the sleeping rogue’s forehead, murmuring softly in Darnassian before curling up against him and returning to sleep herself.

The rogue was deep asleep, relaxed and comfortable. A rare combination that was becoming increasingly normal the more time he spent with her. And as surprising as it sounded, he knew he was getting used to this, that he craved this…

But sometimes, things just could not stay in his favor. And as he lay there with her asleep at his side, something in the back of his mind stirred.

At first the sound was gentle, a soft whisper, soothing and innocuous.

“How gently you sleep, as if the cares of the world mean nothing to you.”
“This is where you recharge. Your energy restored, your balance renewed.”
“But what is this? A dream you say, a lovely scene of tranquility?”

A sigh seems to come from everywhere and no where at once.

“It is not often I get a chance to wax philosophical. Indulge me, if you will.”
“Life is precious, a gift so worthy of care we fight for it.”
“Not only for ourselves, but for those we care about.”
“And yet what is its purpose? Is there a meaning to it?”
“I believe it is about choices. Those you make for yourself,”
“And those made for you. Some you can do nothing about.”
“Some are made in haste, others after great deliberation.”
“You must take care in your choices, for you must live with them.”

This dream was very strange, the voice so real, yet there seems no escape from it. The voice raised in its intensity, and grew ominous.

“Every choice you make, no matter how innocuous it seems, has consequences.”
“They affect more than yourself. They affect those you care about and even your enemies.”
“Think of them like ripples on a pond. The smallest of choices only make small ripples.”
“Some choices make larger ripples, and some make waves.”
“The choices you make will decide your fate, and that of those who love you, and hate you.”

There is silence for a time, and for the briefest moment, he thought the dream was done, the voice gone. Relief briefly eased his concerns.

Then the voice gave one final whisper.

“Someone will die because of your choices. Who will it be?”

Alan Mask startled awake, his body covered in a cold sweat and his breathing ragged. A wild look in his eyes as he instantly looked down to the sleeping form next to him.

Her chest rose with a breath and he felt a rush of relief. But the ominous whispers in his mind had hit it on the mark. Someone would die.

Suddenly this place felt confining and he needed air. He needed to move. He needed… something. As silent as the night around them, he slipped out of their little home and ran through the trees, further into the wilds where he knew none would hear him and just let loose a roar of frustration.

Only then, standing out overlooking the ocean, did he realize there was a very distinct ache on his arm. Only then did he have the icy realization that the void corruption he had been hiding… was no longer hidden.

Raising his arm to look at it under the moonlight he could see the faint dark and twisted outline of the void taint creeping up his arm from his hand.

“Goddess…” He said flatly as he looked to the moon, “You really are trying to test us.”

For the most part, it had probably been one of the best nights Lily could remember having in a long time. Friends and drinks and…zero responsibility beyond enjoying herself. Which had been easy, because Relar had been there with her. Out, in front of…everyone. So the poisoning had been terrible and concerning and she’d almost reverted to full Sergeant mode before remembering that she’d resigned and Simi wasn’t there to hear her, anyway.

Once they’d been sure Wolfgaar was back up and seemingly fine things had gone back to enjoyable. Provided one found racing through Booty Bay and the jungle shifting between two feet, four feet, and wings trying to outmaneuver a grapple-hook bearing rogue enjoyable. Honestly, the night had been everything they’d been hoping for (minus poisoned friends, naturally) and everything they wanted.

Her smile was more than content as her head hit the pillow for sleep. Things would be alright. They’d get their answers about his whispers, arm, and whoever was after him…and then they could have…this. Everything would be fine.

After the events of Tavern and their wild run through the jungle, their home had been a welcome haven, a peaceful one. And as always, her presence had warmed and comforted him. The night was calm, she was curled up against him, limbs tangled as they slept in a lover’s embrace. The rogue was a peace and blissfully happy.

And then they returned. Whispers. Quiet but forceful. Ever present. Reaching deep within him.

So peaceful and deep you sleep. It’s a wonder no one has found you yet.
For shame, letting all your weaknesses show for all to see.
So many who see will seem happy for you. After all you deserve happiness.
Those who are not happy are jealous, for they see you having something they do not.
Little do they know the one thing, the only thing that kept you safe is no more.
How many years have you stayed silent and alone? Never letting anyone in.
Your strength lay in your ability to see things coming that could hurt you.
Now you are vulnerable, and all those who see you as a threat to their very being are well aware.
They say love is blind, and it may seem as if you are stronger together
But what you do not see, what you cannot predict, will get you.
One way or another. There is no fool greater than one in love.
The danger is not only in the enemies who seek you, but those you see as friends as well. For they do not do so willingly or even carelessly.
Simply by befriendling you, they become liabilities.

The voice paused, and it seemed as if it has finished. But the rogue was learning. Even with this Dream he stiffened and held her tighter as he waited.

And then one final message:

You will lose one soon. The die has been cast and the Wheel turns.

As the word faded he felt them sear into him and nothing could stop him from jumping awake, feeling a soul-deep pain cut through him as he instinctively moved away from her, fearing he would taint her somehow, hurt her.

Scrambling out of bed he moved to the far end of the room and perched on the highest thing he could find. Golden eyes simply watched her as he sought refuge in the familiar darkness.

They had announced themselves as a couple. He had been happy. They had fun. He had shown the entire world his weakness, the one person that he would do anything to protect.

Had it been a mistake?

Maybe.

Maybe not…

For now he knew one thing for sure. He needed to remove the growing void corruption on his arm. These maddening whispers were only adding to his own fears and worries, and a distracted rogue was a dead rogue.

“Dalah’Relar,” she murmured, “I wouldn’t change anything. There might be…interruptions. Let me handle them and let Anya tend to you, please.”

He stiffened at that and frowned at her, but eventually gave a small nod. "Just know… depending what happens… I will interfere. And if not today… then later."

“…first we’ll see if I’m even worth that much of a damn to her to require it.” Not bitter, totally not bitter. She thickened the container, now a sphere than can be opened and closed as needed, weaving containment spells around the wood and vine.

Of all the times for her mother to decide to reappear after Teldrassil’s burning unannounced, she could not have chosen more poorly. The trip to Val’sharah had been uneventful enough, except that their purpose was to stop the whispers and void corruption creeping up his arm. By arrangement, Anya had already been there waiting to help. The first unexpected blow had been catching a glimpse of her cousin’s face in the shadowed halls studying them.

“They are coming for you aren’t they.” His arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he used his grappling hook to yank them forward.

Her nostrils flared. "I think my mother is alive and well and as full of opinions as ever. Let me handle her. Please."

For the briefest of moments, the faint, misty shape of a familiar stag could be seen, pacing them.

“…is that E’lir?” He glanced to the stag and then to Lily, “…cause I was totally going to try to call him to help. And… I’ll… try. But Lils. I can’t promise I won’t step in if it gets bad. Together remember.”

Along with all the other changes Lily was awash in, she’d found herself with two new teachers: E’lir, Druid of the Antler and dedicated to Malorne and his mysteries, and the shu’halo Ahurs. She should have assumed E’lir might appear once they set foot on his home territory and so close to the Dreamgrove. It had helped her relax and feel more confident. Her mother would have strong opinions about borrowing a moonwell to remove void from a sin’dorei, of a certainty. And opinions about Lily’s own life path. Lily blessed Elune under her breath as they hit the moonwell and gave Relar into Anya’s care.

She leaned in to murmur softly. “Dalah’surfal, dalah’Re’lara…you can do this. And I can do what I need, too. I love you.”

He smiled softly at that and leaned in to kiss her tenderly. “Dalah’surfal. I have no regrets. And yes, we can both do this. Good luck love.”

She had turned, then, to face the inevitable maternal onslaught next to her teacher. In retrospect, she was pleased with how well she’d handled things.

“If anything goes south with those two, elder brother…I can handle my mother. So please.” The request made of E’lir, Lily looked back to her mother and past her, to the younger elf with a deep blue butterfly mark and bright purple hair. “Go on home, Della. You’ve tattled like a good girl.”

The younger elf spluttered. “I didn’t tattle, Alilyanna, I just thought Shal’nar Yahael should know you were here with—”

The elder one cut her off, looking disgusted that Lily insisted on Common. “With…those? The flea-ridden mongrel wasn’t enough? The slumming around in human cities?”

Lily’s jaw clenched, having had quite enough of this. “T’lara.” She spat back at her mother in Darnassian—a warrior armed only with words. “You know, Priestess Riversong…you come swinging with some mighty big words and nobody else to back it up. Elune’s home is open to all of her children. And those two…” She gestured behind her to Relar and Anya. “Those two are hers as much as you or I am.”

The muscles in Yahael’s neck nearly stood out in fury. "I will not be spoken to like this by you, child."

“You mean, how you speak to her?” E’lir cocked his head, eyes hardening a bit.

"Certainly not your child, Yahael. Not anymore. And you will address me properly.” Lily felt the last knots of grief that she would never be the daughter her mother had wanted untangle and come free. “Archdruid.” It meant, in a single word, that she had surpassed both parents in power and status, although her father would have likely also worn the rank if he’d survived the Nightmare. "Leave, Yahael. You have no daughter and thus no reason to be here. Go now, never come back." She planted her staff firmly between them to grow a barrier of thorns.

She’d turned all of her attention back to what was in front of her. Relar was unconscious, Anya was hissing at the corruption, pulling it away… E’lir had moved to ensure that no matter what happened, Relar survived. Including having the kill switch in the runes on his arm activated by accident. There was nothing Lily could do but wait, breathless. Motionless. She was a thrumming cord of anxiety and optimism. And for the first time in far too long, Lily dropped to her knees and prayed.

Pain radiated through his body. He had expected it. He knew it was necessary. But by fel… it hurt. He felt the void clinging to him, refusing to be ripped out of him. And always more pain, deep bone wrenching excruciating pain. Years of training had taught him how to handle pain, but that also meant he knew what his limit was. And when every muscle in his arm suddenly contracted and clenched, the pain that shot through him was so much he just passed out.

Looking back he knew without a doubt his heart had given out. Only Elir’s constant magic had kept him alive. He also knew that Anya did… something. Something they would have to talk about later.

By the time he finally came to, the void was fully removed from his arm. He didn’t even need to look to be sure, he could just feel the absence of the corruption, that taint that had been haunting him. And even if it felt like he had just been run over by a massive herd of kodos, he felt relief and hope.

Hope that turned into pure pride as he watched Lily denounce her mother and retake full control of her life. That single act, those words he still could hear echoing in the back of his mind, only cemented his feelings for this amazing woman.

“I, Alilyanna Kaylaii Riversong, daughter of Yahael Riversong and Cethidan Moonwind renounce Yahael as mother and any claim to the Riversong legacy with it and declare her daughterless, known only now as my father’s daughter, Alilyanna Moonwind.”

And in that same moment, in that same breath, he came to a realization even more shocking maybe for himself. Him, the man who had spent the better part of his life shunning people, hiding away his true self so much he even forgot who he was.

Suddenly his life took on a whole new meaning, a whole new purpose. He had watched her bloom, find herself, find her true strength. And along the way she had held his hand, never letting him revert back to his ways, always reminding him he was not alone. She had asked for nothing, and given him everything without question. She had trusted him unconditionally, and offered him a safe haven, a place hidden away from all prying eyes where he could simply heal.

Oh yes. He knew. And he knew what he not only wanted, but needed, to do. With newfound determination and purpose, the rogue found his way to the moonwell and brushed his fingers to the sacred waters as he spoke his truth, the truth he had been keeping hidden from all for so many years.

“I, Re’lara of House Shadethorn, son of Ja’lara and child of Shadra, do so declare before Elune herself that my life and heart now belong to Alilyanna Moonwind, daughter of Cethidan Moonwind.”

And so it was that the elf bound his life and heart. And he found that not even the threats looming over both their necks could take away from his happiness. And he enjoyed a day of true bliss with her, happy and relaxed, silly and content.

But the Fates were cruel and not done with him yet. And when he fell asleep after that first day tangled up in bed with her, he did not expect them to return. He did not build up any defensive walls in his mind. Instead… he took the full brunt of their effect.

The peace and tranquility of sleep was shattered by a soft voice that caressed his very soul, nowhere and everywhere at once.

Did you think that would help? The ripples spread now, a bit faster maybe because now more are affected by your choices. With a friend like you, who needs enemies? But don’t worry, the more who share your burden, the faster it will happen. Too bad you lost something important that might have helped. Your friends are well meaning, but clueless.

It is said the more you live, the more you learn. What have you learned over the centuries? Or has it been so much you cannot find the diamond of truth in the grains of sand on the beach?

The pause is slight…

You have made an enemy of someone you once called friend.

A wordless scream tore from the rogue as he found he suddenly could not wake.

Kelirin Sundancer had no idea why she felt compelled to follow the nice kaldorei woman. She’d been following her for more than a week from an unobtrusive distance, observing. In the evenings, she would return to the small rented room in Stormwind and…write about it. Maybe the whispers were telling her she could help. It would be good to have help with the vast empty gaps the void had wiped clean in her memory.

Yes, that had to be it. So Kelirin wrote a brief note describing her symptoms like the whispers told her to do. She folded it carefully, leaving one edge oddly sharp, just sharp enough for a paper cut. She dusted the paper lightly after donning her gloves. This was as easy as that little package the whispers had told her to put together as a gift. She’d hoped they’d liked it. It was always nice when people decided to spend lives together.

Humming, she locked the flimsy door and made her way to the tram. She would give the nice kaldorei the note and be able to remember things. If Kelirin remembered correctly, she’d be in Ironforge. It wasn’t hard to find the nice lady and her sin’dorei…they were about as obvious as bricks to the face when they were together.

As she stepped onto the tram, Kelirin wondered what would be good for lunch, whistling to herself and looking as harmless as a kitten in the crowd.

Whispers and threats, dangers and nightmares. Their lives were in constant shifts, constant changes. And yet the rogue was happy. He was finding a haven with Lily, with their friends. He was going against all his basic instincts and trusting them, and found that he was stronger for it. He was even having fun, spending relaxing nights out with friends in various quiet parts, or just hiding away in their home. And yes, maybe they were not as cautious as they should be, but they refused to let threats and worry keep them from being themselves. They would not hide away.

And so each night he knew the whispers would plague him. Taunting, putting into words the worries they did not voice, shoving to the forefront all the dangers they did face, hinting at betrayals from even his closest friends and always of a looming threat. The whispers spent their breath throwing at him every conspiracy and theory they could conjure, forcing him each time to re-center, refocus on what truly mattered. On what they were aiming for.

Until one night, the whispers offered up something different.

"If you wish, I can grant you answers to well thought out questions. Look for the one called Madam Lillideth. She is my conduit to this world. She lives in Dalaran, over the Broken Isles. She will tell you what you must do to seek my wisdom. It will cost you."

That night the rogue didn’t startle awake but instead smoothly woke up, hard golden eyes peering into the darkness as he held Lily even tighter to him. The growl that rumbled through him was no sexy growl, but instead the one of a predator finally picking up a trail.

A trail that precipitated events. The whispers had a name now. The Oracle. And they knew the price they would need to pay to seek out this Oracle, this all-knowing trickster with words that gnawed at his very core.

The rogue was now faced with a very different dilemma now. Did he truly want to bargain with this Oracle? What could it offer him that he could not gain through normal means? Was it worth the cost?

The answer came a few days later in the shape of a gift box. An answer to the message he had left in Silvermoon. A greeting from a former colleague, a warning from one that was never a friend, a dangerous message from one who knew too much. Someone he knew from a past he wished dead and buried. Someone born and raised through the same atrocities he suffered at the hand of Sunstrife was after him and everything that made his happiness.

The Oracle took great delight in taunting him about this new development.

“The ones who are actively seeking you will close in soon. What will you do when you have no hiding place left? You cannot hide in the Shadows forever and have a happy life, now, can you? Wasn’t the point of freedom for both of you to be able to walk about together in the open?”

A mad chuckle echoed into his mind, churning through his mind like a river of insanity. The parting words that night left a bitter taste in the rogue’s mouth, a feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that things were about to get much worse for them.

“Good luck with that!”

Cleansing poisons was supposed to make a person feel better, not worse. Whoever had developed this nasty piece of work deserved to rot in the lowest pits of fel possible. The contact poison on the mysterious letter that had come out of her pocket had first robbed her of the ability to cast any spells. And then it had mimicked all the symptoms of something deadly until Andi and Thel had tried to cleanse it. Being hit in an explosion had somehow hurt less. This… this was ground glass poured between every fiber of muscle and tissue in her body and agonizing spasms.

Lily curled tightly in the corner of the bed, tucked against the wall. At least they knew who was hunting Relar, now. She fiddled with the ear cuff linked to a small device that was tucked into her ear. Tricky to design, the little thing was hardly larger than the tip of her finger and not only compensated for the total loss of hearing in her left ear, but gave her a more private way to talk to him across long distances.

The distance tonight felt almost immeasurable as they sat in silence together, listening, waiting… One of the hunters would see him tonight in Silvermoon to swap whatever pleasantries assassins used to acknowledge the hunt was on. Everything in her wanted to ask him to leave and come back. Instead, Lily had found a way to mute her end so that he wouldn’t be distracted by the sound of this damned poison getting to be too much to bear.

Things would be fine. Everything would be fine. They had to be fine.

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.