What makes a place holy?
Vesthi pondered the idea. Her feet at a wide stance, the snow around them receded from her presence. The fel, while not emanating from her, burned warm within. A useful feature when finding herself within colder climes. A terrible feature when she desired to make a snow ball. Her steady breath carried in the air. Her arms folded, Vesthi peered down at the stumpy stone in the snow some distance away. The dwarven script upon it’s flattened surface was clear and distinct. Ages ago she’d forced herself to learn the hairy-halfling’s crude lettering. A necessity required to study the few magical texts she was able to obtain back before… But the other script written below it…
Vesthi’s ear twitched at the soft crunching of snow. She didn’t need to turn her head, but it was a normalizing convention she was relearning. A subtle contrition with society to appear more… human. In exchange they bear the burden of her demonic presence. Speaking of presence, the being at Vesthi’s back smoothly changed shape from a creature approaching on all fours to a bipedal figure. Vesthi knew who it was without actually “seeing” her. Nanaai slipped her arms around Vesthi’s waist and pressed herself against Vesthi’s back, nestling her chin on the Demon Hunter’s shoulder. The pair stood silent for a long peaceful moment.
Nanaai broke the silence, softly intonating the name etched in dwarven script upon the small stone. “Ducky.” Her soft tone carried with it a hint of familiarity. Vesthi murmured, “You knew him?” Nanaai shook her head, her chin digging slightly into Vesthi’s shoulder as she did. “No. No really. I knew of him. Only met him a few times. Seemed well liked among Lady Stoneheardt’s Conclave.” A quiet moment passed. “Why?” Nanaai asked softly. “Did you know him?”
Vesthi nodded. “Quite well. I didn’t know what to make of him at first, but the little man had such a heart, even with all the darkness that shrouded it.” Vesthi breathed. “He tried, earnestly tried, to be better. To do something good and worth while with the dark curse he’d been dealt. He wasn’t angry. He didn’t let bitterness hollow his core. He was incredibly resilient. I respected him for it, even envied him for it.” Vesthi’s tone darkened. “For all our talk and our posturing, the Illidari do not possess such strength. Not really. Not that I’ve seen. We’ve embraced our curses, made them our own. We own our power and the choices we’ve made to attain it along the dark path we’ve tread. I am at the other end of the spectrum, and I was content with my own damnation.” Vesthi peered longingly out at the small standing stone. “Before I’d realized what had happened I found that Cailean had given me a precious gift. Hope.”
Nanaai slipped around to Vesthi’s side. She intertwined their fingers as she cradled Vesthi’s arm. Vesthi’s gaze dropped to the snow and Nanaai could see the grimace she wore. “I think I understand.” Nanaai spoke softly. A cool gentle breeze wafted freshly fallen snow around their feet, bringing with it a calming aroma of fresh pine.
Vesthi muttered down at the softly drifting snow. “I was only able to do the things I’ve done because I had no hope. It never mattered what happened to me. My life was inconsequential to the greater goal, ending the Legion. My only aspiration was that when my end came it would bear meaning. That I was remembered for my deeds was irrelevant. I would be remembered for the moment then forgotten the next as the war raged ever onward. And then, it ended. The war itself was over. The great devil had been vanquished. I’d fooled myself into believing that there was still a vigil to be held, and that is true in part, but the larger goal had been completed. My purpose was gone. Suddenly, I became irrelevant.”
“I understand.” Nanaai responded. Vesthi knew that she did, but she had to let it out. She had to keep talking, and so Vesthi continued. “It was only when I’d hit the utter depths of my loathsome state that Cailean came to me. He made a simple request of me, to help him on a personal quest. I thought him a damned fool and his quest a bunch of nonsense, but for some reason I agreed. He and I had wandered the Broken Shore together. We’d battled demon hordes and thwarted the Legion’s devilish machinations as best we could, where we could. As so many others were doing at the time. I’d grown fond of him then, but he was little more than a colleague. Now, for the first time in a very long while he came to me as a friend. Sure, I had a skill set that could serve his purpose, but I soon came to find that I wasn’t really needed. That old Gnome really just wanted me around because he enjoyed my company. My friendship.”
Nanaai could see then that it wasn’t a grimace of anger or confusion, or regret that Vesthi wore. It was an expression of a different much deeper emotion that was far more difficult for a Demon Hunter such as she to express. Nanaai said softly. “Sounds like you loved him.”
Vesthi’s voice cracked. “I did.” Nanaai smiled, forcing back a tear. She slipped underneath one of Vesthi’s arms and rested her head back on the Demon Hunter’s shoulder. A curious question came to mind and she asked it without a thought to it’s implication. “Why are you standing so far away from his marker?”
“This is holy ground.” Vesthi spoke flatly. An iron resolve in tone. “I’ll not allow my fel presence to befoul the peace of this clearing any more than I already have.” With a gentle hand Nanaai pulled Vesthi’s gaze to her own. “I may not have known him well, but it sounds to me that you two were close. I’m certain he would be delighted that you’d visited his marker and paid your respects. You needn’t worry about anything else.”
Vesthi repaid her words with a smile that somehow softened her demonic features. “Thank you, Nai. I think the old Doctor would understand. He’d appreciate my visit regardless the distance I keep.” Nanaai softly patted Vesthi’s cheek. “Stubborn to the last.” She slipped out of Vesthi’s arm and softly padded her way toward the stone. Lowering herself down she rested her palm upon the snow. A gentle flow of energy suffused the ground immediately around the small stone marker. Raising to her feet she then made her way back to Vesthi’s waiting embrace.
“What did you do?” Vesthi asked curiously. Nanaai answered. “I paid our respects, for the both of us. Come spring these mountain reaches seldom thaw completely from snow, but that won’t hold true for the earth just around Ducky’s tombstone. The snow will recede. Green grass will grow. Flowers will bloom and remain in blossom into fall. Nature’s cycle will turn and snow will cover the stone again until spring’s return, and the flowers return.”
“Orchids.” Vesthi muttered. “He had a fondness for Orchids. He cultivated them at one time, during an extended stay on Draenor.” Nanaai squinted down at the earth a moment, then slowly nodded. “Yes. I think that can be arranged.” She glanced back at Vesthi. “Though, it’ll take a bit special tending on your part. Orchids require very particular conditions to grow properly.”
Vesthi cast her a curious glare. “Isn’t altering nature what you powerful Druids do? Can’t you just wiggle your fingers and make them grow?” Nanaai chuckled. “Yes, but also no. It would take far too much work and too many alterations to create the precise conditions. I wouldn’t dare alter this ecosystem so drastically. And besides, where’s the fun in that? This way, you have to return here, at least periodically, to tend to them. If, that is, you want them to grow.”
Vesthi wrapped her arms snugly around Nanaai. “Clever Druid.” To which Nanaai smiled. The pair turned hand in hand and made their way back to the large ancient fort. Vesthi muttered as they left. “I hope that, one day, I will be thought of so highly and remembered so fondly that such a stone would be placed for me.”
“One will, Ves.” Nanaai spoke softly. “One will.”
((Apologies for posting again, and so soon after my initial post above. This little bit was just scratching at the back of my mind, so I thought I’d let it out. -Cail))