Post by Xelas Stormfeather on Oct 30, 2010 23:36:00 GMT -5
The woman across from me paced behind the table, offering me a sour glare. She was tall and slender, as any of the Kal'Dorei, with her up-swept eyebrows drawn down fiercely over her eyes. She was not pleased to find me in her study.
Looking at her, I could see the family resemblance, though in truth, my aunt was only half-sister to my mother, and an unfriendly half at that. So it was little wonder that Shandris tended to "forget" her blood-kinship with my mother. Kal'Dorei culture makes this easier. Most outsiders do not understand that Kal'Dorei often choose their kinsmen. Being such long-lived beings, we had little need to secure inheritance or passages of power. Most times, we simply outlived items that children of the Fleeting Races would carefully deed to generation after generation, and rulership was determined by competence rather than birth. So bloodlines count for far less among Kal'Dorei than humans or other races understand. While there were often many longstanding pairings among my people, it was not the least bit unusual for more casual pairings to result in offspring that were cared-for by any number of families. This explains my tentative connection with the Feathermoon clan. My mother was the result of such a dalliance, and since her mother chose not to reveal the other half of the pairing, she was raised simply as a Feathermoon.
So, why is it that I am not a Feathermoon? I will reiterate that for us, the concept of family is a fluid structure. Our names reflect this. A family name shows allegiance to a family group, and there are two types -- Blood Names and Clan Names.
Blood names were initially practiced by the Highborne more than any others, as they tended to believe that magical aptitude followed parent to child. However, Blood names became fashionable among most of the Kal'Dorei, combining a father and mother's family names to identify blood kinship. It is thus with my own name, Swiftfeather, taken from my father's Swiftwater and my mother's Feathermoon.
The some of the Kal'Dorei use Clan names, which often evolved from the Blood names of particularly beloved individuals. Any might take such names, blood kinship or no, simply to ally themselves with the family in question. This tradition later became codified and integral to Quel'Dorei and Sin'Dorei households, as they eventually fell prey to the same concerns that plague those of the Fleeting races -- inheritence, politics... power. This is not to say that those Kal'Dorei who use such names concern themselves with such petty matters. Then again, I'm not saying they don't, as my aunt's scowls of disapproval remind me.
Apparently, my affable silence outlasted Shandris' efforts to intimidate me. She seated herself behind a heavy desk with a scoff.
"It's nice to see you," I lied. I smiled, tightly, my eyebrows raised in inquiry. "However, I confess, I was surprised by your invitation to visit."
Shandris had made no invitation. It was nothing short of a curt summons, bordering on a threat-laden demand. I very nearly ignored it. The High-Priestess Laurena, my patron and sometimes teacher in Stormwind, urged me not to. There had been many disturbing changes in Azeroth, not the least of which were tremors which shook the earth with growing frequency. Laurena seemed to feel that my kinsmen might have some special sort of insight into the matter. I was reluctant to tell her my suspicions that the Kal'Dorei might soon end up looking to the Fleeting Races for answers to those same questions, having abandoned the magics used by the Highborne.
The sarcasm of my unctuous politeness was not lost on my aunt. Her expression shifted from disapproval to open disgust. "You dare?! I should have you thrown into the sea!" she spat. "I cannot believe that Tyrande thought bringing you here would be of any use at all, else I would!"
I made a moue of feigned disappointment. "Ah, Shandris... I should have thought we were past all this disagreeable fuss. But if it is any consolation, I am in full agreement with you. Surely there must be more likable and cooperative pawns for your schemes?" I expected to spark her anger further, but she surprised me with a humorless laugh.
"Likable and cooperative, yes. But none who have become so thoroughly...." her lips curved into a grimace, "human."
So, there it was. My suspicions were bearing fruit. The only race more horrifying to the Kal'Dorei than orcs were humans. Humans, who loved to dabble, and squabble, and change things. Humans, who could at times be so terrifyingly visionary, and yet so forgetful, as their own tiny lifetimes rendered even recent history into twisted myth and legend. I loved them for it, good and bad. And it made me outcast among my own blood. Still, even as I embraced their rashness and immediacy, I lived far more slowly. Generations spent among them could not erase the thousands of years I had spent, steeped in the Kal'Dorei ways. In light of that, I could see why I might have been sought as an intermediary with them. I had lived among the humans for nearly two thousand years, and yet had been connected to my homeland enough to have been protected by Nordrassil in my darkest hours of the Third War.
Still, it was well-known that I had little love for Tyrande or her cronies. It was a bitter cup we shared, making me all the more suspicious of Tyrande's plans for me.
"Ah," I replied, steepling my fingers to punctuate an arched glance at my aunt. "Should I brace myself to see the grand High Priestess, or have you been given the task of negotiating with me?"
"Negotiating?" Shandris' confusion was deep enough to nearly erase the look of contempt that had been a permanent fixture on her features since my arrival.
I allowed myself a chuckle. "Surely you don't think I am wholly at Darnassus' beck and call?" I leaned forward, fixing Shandris with a pointed stare. "I am a citizen of Stormwind, and as such -- whether you like it or not -- my service to Tyrande is purely voluntary." I sat back, inspecting my fingernails. "If the tasks you have called me to perform don't seem meritorious on their own, I will expect the deal to be sweetened until I can bring myself to serve that murderous trollop without gagging."
I glanced back up at Shandris' sharp exhalation to see her stand up, trembling with fury. I didn't often misjudge how far I could press my sly insults, but the air crackled. In another few seconds, I could be fighting for my life. Once again, Shandris surprised me. She closed her eyes and drew a deep, shuddering breath. As she slowly released it, she opened her eyes. Within them, her disdain and anger had congealed into an oily hatred that smoldered, but no longer burned. I had succeeded in goading her beyond irrational flashes of temper. She would stay her hand now, but she would not forget this. If I gauged her expression correctly, I had just made a mortal enemy of my aunt. Loyalty to Tyrande and whatever plots she was trying to ensnare me were the only things preventing the whole of Feathermoon Hold being called down to imprison me. To be sure, I was beloved in Stormwind by most, but my king and High Priestess were far, far way. Shandris would harbor little fear of retaliation should something unfortunate befall me under her roof. I did my best to keep my expression bland. It was a weak bluff at best. Both she and I knew that my best chance of leaving the island where my aunt's fortress stood was in agreeing to whatever tasks Tyrande had sought me to perform.
I had played into their hands. To Shandris' credit, she didn't even smirk.
Instead, she seated herself slowly at her desk. "As you know, we have been approached by emissaries of The Highborne." Her cold gazed flicked over me. "As it stands, Tyrande can ill-afford being seen in open, diplomatic dialog with them. However, the growing disturbances felt all over Azeroth are driving us to seek someone already out of favor with Darnassus to be our liaison. Quietly. That's where you come in." She bared her sharp teeth at me in another humorless smile. "It will be easy to shed any blame that might be leveled our way if you manage to bungle this." I got the uncomfortable feeling that Shandris rather hoped I would do just that. It would be a tidy way to be rid of me. I sighed.
"When? Where?" I had been threatened, but far from cowed. Shandris had the upper hand for now. I knew as well as any how quickly that could change.
"The ruins of Eldre'Thalas," Shandris replied. "Find the Shen'dralar who dwell there." She feigned interest in a report on her desk. "Don't be surprised if they're not friendly."
I snorted. "From the sound of it, it seems risky to be pinning all your hopes on me."
"Who said we were?" answered my aunt, Without taking her eyes off the report. The silence stretched between us for several seconds before she broke it. "You know, the sooner you go, the sooner I can forget about you.' She made a small, dismissing wave with her hand. "Report back in a month if you make it that far."
I wasn't sure if she intended that I leave for Dire Maul that moment, but I was eager to be quit of her. As I hastily purchased provisions for my journey, it began to rain. It was an inauspicious start to an ill-fated venture.
And it was just my luck.
Looking at her, I could see the family resemblance, though in truth, my aunt was only half-sister to my mother, and an unfriendly half at that. So it was little wonder that Shandris tended to "forget" her blood-kinship with my mother. Kal'Dorei culture makes this easier. Most outsiders do not understand that Kal'Dorei often choose their kinsmen. Being such long-lived beings, we had little need to secure inheritance or passages of power. Most times, we simply outlived items that children of the Fleeting Races would carefully deed to generation after generation, and rulership was determined by competence rather than birth. So bloodlines count for far less among Kal'Dorei than humans or other races understand. While there were often many longstanding pairings among my people, it was not the least bit unusual for more casual pairings to result in offspring that were cared-for by any number of families. This explains my tentative connection with the Feathermoon clan. My mother was the result of such a dalliance, and since her mother chose not to reveal the other half of the pairing, she was raised simply as a Feathermoon.
So, why is it that I am not a Feathermoon? I will reiterate that for us, the concept of family is a fluid structure. Our names reflect this. A family name shows allegiance to a family group, and there are two types -- Blood Names and Clan Names.
Blood names were initially practiced by the Highborne more than any others, as they tended to believe that magical aptitude followed parent to child. However, Blood names became fashionable among most of the Kal'Dorei, combining a father and mother's family names to identify blood kinship. It is thus with my own name, Swiftfeather, taken from my father's Swiftwater and my mother's Feathermoon.
The some of the Kal'Dorei use Clan names, which often evolved from the Blood names of particularly beloved individuals. Any might take such names, blood kinship or no, simply to ally themselves with the family in question. This tradition later became codified and integral to Quel'Dorei and Sin'Dorei households, as they eventually fell prey to the same concerns that plague those of the Fleeting races -- inheritence, politics... power. This is not to say that those Kal'Dorei who use such names concern themselves with such petty matters. Then again, I'm not saying they don't, as my aunt's scowls of disapproval remind me.
Apparently, my affable silence outlasted Shandris' efforts to intimidate me. She seated herself behind a heavy desk with a scoff.
"It's nice to see you," I lied. I smiled, tightly, my eyebrows raised in inquiry. "However, I confess, I was surprised by your invitation to visit."
Shandris had made no invitation. It was nothing short of a curt summons, bordering on a threat-laden demand. I very nearly ignored it. The High-Priestess Laurena, my patron and sometimes teacher in Stormwind, urged me not to. There had been many disturbing changes in Azeroth, not the least of which were tremors which shook the earth with growing frequency. Laurena seemed to feel that my kinsmen might have some special sort of insight into the matter. I was reluctant to tell her my suspicions that the Kal'Dorei might soon end up looking to the Fleeting Races for answers to those same questions, having abandoned the magics used by the Highborne.
The sarcasm of my unctuous politeness was not lost on my aunt. Her expression shifted from disapproval to open disgust. "You dare?! I should have you thrown into the sea!" she spat. "I cannot believe that Tyrande thought bringing you here would be of any use at all, else I would!"
I made a moue of feigned disappointment. "Ah, Shandris... I should have thought we were past all this disagreeable fuss. But if it is any consolation, I am in full agreement with you. Surely there must be more likable and cooperative pawns for your schemes?" I expected to spark her anger further, but she surprised me with a humorless laugh.
"Likable and cooperative, yes. But none who have become so thoroughly...." her lips curved into a grimace, "human."
So, there it was. My suspicions were bearing fruit. The only race more horrifying to the Kal'Dorei than orcs were humans. Humans, who loved to dabble, and squabble, and change things. Humans, who could at times be so terrifyingly visionary, and yet so forgetful, as their own tiny lifetimes rendered even recent history into twisted myth and legend. I loved them for it, good and bad. And it made me outcast among my own blood. Still, even as I embraced their rashness and immediacy, I lived far more slowly. Generations spent among them could not erase the thousands of years I had spent, steeped in the Kal'Dorei ways. In light of that, I could see why I might have been sought as an intermediary with them. I had lived among the humans for nearly two thousand years, and yet had been connected to my homeland enough to have been protected by Nordrassil in my darkest hours of the Third War.
Still, it was well-known that I had little love for Tyrande or her cronies. It was a bitter cup we shared, making me all the more suspicious of Tyrande's plans for me.
"Ah," I replied, steepling my fingers to punctuate an arched glance at my aunt. "Should I brace myself to see the grand High Priestess, or have you been given the task of negotiating with me?"
"Negotiating?" Shandris' confusion was deep enough to nearly erase the look of contempt that had been a permanent fixture on her features since my arrival.
I allowed myself a chuckle. "Surely you don't think I am wholly at Darnassus' beck and call?" I leaned forward, fixing Shandris with a pointed stare. "I am a citizen of Stormwind, and as such -- whether you like it or not -- my service to Tyrande is purely voluntary." I sat back, inspecting my fingernails. "If the tasks you have called me to perform don't seem meritorious on their own, I will expect the deal to be sweetened until I can bring myself to serve that murderous trollop without gagging."
I glanced back up at Shandris' sharp exhalation to see her stand up, trembling with fury. I didn't often misjudge how far I could press my sly insults, but the air crackled. In another few seconds, I could be fighting for my life. Once again, Shandris surprised me. She closed her eyes and drew a deep, shuddering breath. As she slowly released it, she opened her eyes. Within them, her disdain and anger had congealed into an oily hatred that smoldered, but no longer burned. I had succeeded in goading her beyond irrational flashes of temper. She would stay her hand now, but she would not forget this. If I gauged her expression correctly, I had just made a mortal enemy of my aunt. Loyalty to Tyrande and whatever plots she was trying to ensnare me were the only things preventing the whole of Feathermoon Hold being called down to imprison me. To be sure, I was beloved in Stormwind by most, but my king and High Priestess were far, far way. Shandris would harbor little fear of retaliation should something unfortunate befall me under her roof. I did my best to keep my expression bland. It was a weak bluff at best. Both she and I knew that my best chance of leaving the island where my aunt's fortress stood was in agreeing to whatever tasks Tyrande had sought me to perform.
I had played into their hands. To Shandris' credit, she didn't even smirk.
Instead, she seated herself slowly at her desk. "As you know, we have been approached by emissaries of The Highborne." Her cold gazed flicked over me. "As it stands, Tyrande can ill-afford being seen in open, diplomatic dialog with them. However, the growing disturbances felt all over Azeroth are driving us to seek someone already out of favor with Darnassus to be our liaison. Quietly. That's where you come in." She bared her sharp teeth at me in another humorless smile. "It will be easy to shed any blame that might be leveled our way if you manage to bungle this." I got the uncomfortable feeling that Shandris rather hoped I would do just that. It would be a tidy way to be rid of me. I sighed.
"When? Where?" I had been threatened, but far from cowed. Shandris had the upper hand for now. I knew as well as any how quickly that could change.
"The ruins of Eldre'Thalas," Shandris replied. "Find the Shen'dralar who dwell there." She feigned interest in a report on her desk. "Don't be surprised if they're not friendly."
I snorted. "From the sound of it, it seems risky to be pinning all your hopes on me."
"Who said we were?" answered my aunt, Without taking her eyes off the report. The silence stretched between us for several seconds before she broke it. "You know, the sooner you go, the sooner I can forget about you.' She made a small, dismissing wave with her hand. "Report back in a month if you make it that far."
I wasn't sure if she intended that I leave for Dire Maul that moment, but I was eager to be quit of her. As I hastily purchased provisions for my journey, it began to rain. It was an inauspicious start to an ill-fated venture.
And it was just my luck.