Post by Aelflaed on Nov 6, 2008 17:10:44 GMT -5
Aelflaed stood outside Light’s Hope Chapel, long braid blowing in the stiff fall wind. Over her buzzbox she could hear an assortment of people – Skyborne and Bricu were chattering about something, and she thought maybe that was Ulthanon’s voice, she couldn’t be sure.
Phileas’ voice though, was unmistakable. She’d come to listen for it, hoping he’d be around in the evenings and not off taking care of what needed taking care of. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know exactly what he was doing for the Riders during the day, but she figured it was Scourge-related and left it at that.
“Are tha awreet?”
“Aye, jus’ finishin’ up a bi’ here for th’ Dawn – where are ye?”
“Upstairs in th’ Pig – only place in this whole fecking town I can fin’ a moment’s peace. Tried half th’ damn city an’ kep’ runnin’ intae folk.”
“Ye wan’ comp’ny?”
She paid her toll and took off on a gryphon, enjoying the change in the air as it soared across the upper reaches of the Eastern Kingdoms.
“Damn gryphon – ye daft? ‘bout crashed me into th’ flying dead castle.”
“Aye – they were gone yes’tdy, back t’day.”
“I canna help bu’ think th’ Scourge are holdin’ somethin’ back – like I’m waitin’ for th’ other shoe t’ drop.”
There was a long pause, as though the rogue was lost in thought. Then, quietly, his voice crackled back over the buzzbox channel.
“…’s about how I’m feelin’ too.”
Aelflaed looked down at the buzzbox, concern crinkling across her eyebrows. It seemed a simple enough thing to say…but his tone implied there was something else going on.
“Ye are no’ talkin’ bout th’ Scourge…”
“Nae, no’ t’day.”
Landing in Stormwind was something of a tricky task with the Necropolis – it made her nervous, like something great was looming over the city. Still, she landed, tipping the Gryphonmaster and summoning Maera for the trip over into Old Town. The gray haze of the undead had settled back on the streets, but at least the sun had come out for one day.
She found Phileas upstairs in a corner of the Pig and Whistle, staring into a mug of ale.
“Ye a’right?”
Phileas shrugged. “Dinna ken.”
“Ye wan’ t’ talk it through?”
“I… well… I dinnae think it’d be proper.”
Aelflaed raised an eyebrow.
“Proper, aye? Well, ye wan’ me t’ leave ye be then?”
Phileas shook his head. “Nah, even if tha left, tha’d still be here.” Before she could ask him to clarify, he was speaking again. “Jus’ my thoughts are runnin’ round, an’ by th’ time I catch up wi’ em, they’re off again.”
Sitting down and taking a swig of her own ale, Aely peered over at the rogue, conflict raging like a storm in his grey eyes.
“Well, ‘f ye thoughts are runnin’ like tha’, best figure out wha’ their runnin’ round, or wha’ they’re runnin’ from. Then ye can pin down th’ problem.”
The rogue took a drink of his ale, an agitated growl escaping as he stretched his long-fingered hands flat on the table. “Och, I ken well enow wha’ th’ problem is. I cannae get thee from my thoughts. Nae matter what I start thinkin’ abou’, soon’s I turn aroun’ me min’s back on thee. Take this mornin’. I’m thinkin’ ‘bout th’ Scourge, an’ how it were nice t’ not have the Necropolis there outside th’ city, ‘f only fer one day. An’ then how nice it was t’ be in the sunlight. An’ then how nice tha’d look standin’ in it, hair all on fire. An’…then… other things. Things that ain’ gentleman-like. Or proper.”
“Oh aye, an’ ye’ think tha… after all this, tha I… dinna feel...” Aelflaed buried her face in her hands, flustered.
Phileas cut a guilty glance towards the paladin. Nice work. Managed tae bollocks it up, didn’t tha, Lynch? “I’m… I apologize – I willnae bring it up again.”
“Apologize? For wha?”
“I’m tryin’ tae court thee proper…an’ th’ times I’ve done summat like that afore kin be counted on th’ fingers o’ a man wi’ nae han’s. ‘Cause this be important. I’m tryin’ tae do right by thee – tha’ deserves more than a tumble where I don’ care if I’m leavin’ thee before tha wakes up, like some tavern wench, like I dinnae care. Because I do care.”
Aelflaed stood up, thumping her mug on the table, the color rising in her face, her green eyes flashing.
“Oh aye, ye damn right I deserve better. Bu’ wha’ makes ye think I’m a’righ’ sittin’, jus’ lookin’ a’ ye, ne’er gettin’ t’ touch ye, wi’ out passion. An’ I ken tha’ ye care, Phileas, or I’d no’ still be here.”
He stood up in turn, backing slowly away from her – unsure whether or not things were about to get dangerous. She noticed the movement and cracked a crooked grin, red splotches still on her cheeks and fire behind her eyes.
“Wha? I’m no’ going t’ hit ye. Kiss ye, maybe. Bu’ no’ hit ye.”
Phileas blinked at her, looking completely and utterly nonplussed.
She crossed her arms, looking back at him.
“Oh, aye – ye canna say tha’ ye havena’ thought it?”
“Well, I … well, yer…but…”
“But what?”
“Nothin’…”
“Nothin’ my arse. Ye wouldn’a let me get away with it, so out with it.”
Phileas stood for a moment, staring at the paladin standing across the table from him, trying to form a jumble of thoughts into something marginally coherent. After a painful silence, he gave up.
“I’m tryin’, but I cannae make th’ words go where I want – they jus’ vanish.”
Aelflaed peered over at him, noticing the slight twitch in his hands – street-sharp rogue that he was, he was nervous and perhaps inclined to bolt – and she didn’t want him disappearing on her now. She held her own hands out towards him, slowly.
“Dinna fright on me, a’righ’?”
Phileas nodded.
Three smooth deliberate strides and she’d walked around the table to stand in front of him, stopping just short of running into his nose.
She looked him square in the face.
“Phileas Lynch, ye are a fecking great fool, an’ somehow I love ye for it anyway.”
And taking his face into her hands, she kissed him soundly.
Phileas’ voice though, was unmistakable. She’d come to listen for it, hoping he’d be around in the evenings and not off taking care of what needed taking care of. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know exactly what he was doing for the Riders during the day, but she figured it was Scourge-related and left it at that.
“Are tha awreet?”
“Aye, jus’ finishin’ up a bi’ here for th’ Dawn – where are ye?”
“Upstairs in th’ Pig – only place in this whole fecking town I can fin’ a moment’s peace. Tried half th’ damn city an’ kep’ runnin’ intae folk.”
“Ye wan’ comp’ny?”
She paid her toll and took off on a gryphon, enjoying the change in the air as it soared across the upper reaches of the Eastern Kingdoms.
“Damn gryphon – ye daft? ‘bout crashed me into th’ flying dead castle.”
“Aye – they were gone yes’tdy, back t’day.”
“I canna help bu’ think th’ Scourge are holdin’ somethin’ back – like I’m waitin’ for th’ other shoe t’ drop.”
There was a long pause, as though the rogue was lost in thought. Then, quietly, his voice crackled back over the buzzbox channel.
“…’s about how I’m feelin’ too.”
Aelflaed looked down at the buzzbox, concern crinkling across her eyebrows. It seemed a simple enough thing to say…but his tone implied there was something else going on.
“Ye are no’ talkin’ bout th’ Scourge…”
“Nae, no’ t’day.”
Landing in Stormwind was something of a tricky task with the Necropolis – it made her nervous, like something great was looming over the city. Still, she landed, tipping the Gryphonmaster and summoning Maera for the trip over into Old Town. The gray haze of the undead had settled back on the streets, but at least the sun had come out for one day.
She found Phileas upstairs in a corner of the Pig and Whistle, staring into a mug of ale.
“Ye a’right?”
Phileas shrugged. “Dinna ken.”
“Ye wan’ t’ talk it through?”
“I… well… I dinnae think it’d be proper.”
Aelflaed raised an eyebrow.
“Proper, aye? Well, ye wan’ me t’ leave ye be then?”
Phileas shook his head. “Nah, even if tha left, tha’d still be here.” Before she could ask him to clarify, he was speaking again. “Jus’ my thoughts are runnin’ round, an’ by th’ time I catch up wi’ em, they’re off again.”
Sitting down and taking a swig of her own ale, Aely peered over at the rogue, conflict raging like a storm in his grey eyes.
“Well, ‘f ye thoughts are runnin’ like tha’, best figure out wha’ their runnin’ round, or wha’ they’re runnin’ from. Then ye can pin down th’ problem.”
The rogue took a drink of his ale, an agitated growl escaping as he stretched his long-fingered hands flat on the table. “Och, I ken well enow wha’ th’ problem is. I cannae get thee from my thoughts. Nae matter what I start thinkin’ abou’, soon’s I turn aroun’ me min’s back on thee. Take this mornin’. I’m thinkin’ ‘bout th’ Scourge, an’ how it were nice t’ not have the Necropolis there outside th’ city, ‘f only fer one day. An’ then how nice it was t’ be in the sunlight. An’ then how nice tha’d look standin’ in it, hair all on fire. An’…then… other things. Things that ain’ gentleman-like. Or proper.”
“Oh aye, an’ ye’ think tha… after all this, tha I… dinna feel...” Aelflaed buried her face in her hands, flustered.
Phileas cut a guilty glance towards the paladin. Nice work. Managed tae bollocks it up, didn’t tha, Lynch? “I’m… I apologize – I willnae bring it up again.”
“Apologize? For wha?”
“I’m tryin’ tae court thee proper…an’ th’ times I’ve done summat like that afore kin be counted on th’ fingers o’ a man wi’ nae han’s. ‘Cause this be important. I’m tryin’ tae do right by thee – tha’ deserves more than a tumble where I don’ care if I’m leavin’ thee before tha wakes up, like some tavern wench, like I dinnae care. Because I do care.”
Aelflaed stood up, thumping her mug on the table, the color rising in her face, her green eyes flashing.
“Oh aye, ye damn right I deserve better. Bu’ wha’ makes ye think I’m a’righ’ sittin’, jus’ lookin’ a’ ye, ne’er gettin’ t’ touch ye, wi’ out passion. An’ I ken tha’ ye care, Phileas, or I’d no’ still be here.”
He stood up in turn, backing slowly away from her – unsure whether or not things were about to get dangerous. She noticed the movement and cracked a crooked grin, red splotches still on her cheeks and fire behind her eyes.
“Wha? I’m no’ going t’ hit ye. Kiss ye, maybe. Bu’ no’ hit ye.”
Phileas blinked at her, looking completely and utterly nonplussed.
She crossed her arms, looking back at him.
“Oh, aye – ye canna say tha’ ye havena’ thought it?”
“Well, I … well, yer…but…”
“But what?”
“Nothin’…”
“Nothin’ my arse. Ye wouldn’a let me get away with it, so out with it.”
Phileas stood for a moment, staring at the paladin standing across the table from him, trying to form a jumble of thoughts into something marginally coherent. After a painful silence, he gave up.
“I’m tryin’, but I cannae make th’ words go where I want – they jus’ vanish.”
Aelflaed peered over at him, noticing the slight twitch in his hands – street-sharp rogue that he was, he was nervous and perhaps inclined to bolt – and she didn’t want him disappearing on her now. She held her own hands out towards him, slowly.
“Dinna fright on me, a’righ’?”
Phileas nodded.
Three smooth deliberate strides and she’d walked around the table to stand in front of him, stopping just short of running into his nose.
She looked him square in the face.
“Phileas Lynch, ye are a fecking great fool, an’ somehow I love ye for it anyway.”
And taking his face into her hands, she kissed him soundly.