(2021-06-12) Day 12

Details

Author:	Jessa
Summary:	Dinner with the Daffodils. Tragg proves unexpectedly poetic when talking about Lordaeron. A fight breaks out.
Rating:	T for Teen

Chain: The Re-education of Miss Ivrianna Barlowe

They sat at dinner. At least, three of them did. Judah sat still against the far wall, practicing a knife flip that Tragg had showed them earlier.

"The balance will be entirely different with real daggers, you realize," Llastra told him.

"thEN I WiLL leARn iT agAiN," Judah rasped.

Ivri stole a roasted potato wedge off Tragg's plate, a quick stab of her fork.

"Stop that," he growled at her, glowering.

She grinned at him as she ate it. "Half day in two days," she said. "What's everyone got planned?"

"We ALl knOw WHaT yoU WiLl bE doINg, BArLowE," Judah said, teeth exposed in what passed for a smile from him.

"Perhaps you should say who," Llastra said.

Tragg laughed and slammed a meaty fist on the table.

Ivri's fork flashed out again, spearing another potato off his plate.

"Stop that!" he snarled.

"Sorry," she apologized around the mouthful of food. "Llastra made a joke. I got all giddy and my high spirits got the better of me."

"I wiLL bE goINg to The UNdeRciTY," Judah said. "buT tHIs tiMe I wilL nOt TrY anY nEw muSHrooMs."

The Undercity. That stole her smile. Ivri took a drink from her mug, then stared at the water. The others were making replies, talking about their plans for their time off, but she didn't really hear them. She waited for the conversation to stop. "What's it like?" she asked, soft and low.

"It?" Judah asked.

"Lordaeron," she said, not taking her eyes off her mug. "What's it like now?"

"Ruined," Tragg grunted, taking a necessary second helping of potatoes.

She looked over at Judah. "All of it?"

The Forsaken man nodded.

"I remember some of it," she said, looking back at her mug. "I was born there, raised there. I remember sledding in the winter down a hill in the center of town. Everyone was so excited for the snow. I remember fishing with my family off the docks. I remember the smell of Winter Veil cookies from the bakery down the street. And how everyone would hang baskets of flowers in the spring so that our whole street seemed to bloom."

In the silence, she took another drink and wished for something stronger than water.

Tragg broke that silence first. "If you are quiet," he said, his voice a deep rumble, "and you approach the throne room, you can hear spirits."

All attention swung to the orc. "Spirits?" Ivri asked.

He nodded, ate a chunk of meat, then continued with his mouth full. "Spirits," he said. "They say that the city remembers Arthas returning. I have heard the bells and the cheers. In the throne room itself, you hear whispers. The city remembers his betrayal and it tells itself the story over and over."

Ivri pushed her plate away.

Llastra leaned against her, offering warmth and sympathy.

This, Ivri knew, was something she would never tell her family. Some secrets had to be kept. Some things, when shared, only increased in weight.

She looked at Judah again, but he looked down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes.

The only sound in the room was Tragg's steady chewing, the clatter of knife against plate as he ate.

This time when Ivri's fork stretched out, he was ready and his knife slammed down. She yanked her fork free, the potato on its tines flicked upward.

It fell.

It landed on Llastra's head.

Tragg barked out a laugh and pounded the table again. Against the wall, Judah hissed in shared hilarity.

Ivri slapped a hand over her mouth, blue eyes wide. "I'm sorry!" she said, choking on the effort to keep from joining in with the laughter.

Llastra blinked. The potato rolled off her head and into her lap, setting the two males off again. Even Ivri couldn't hold back.

Without looking at any of them, Llastra reached out to the bowl of potatoes and took a handful. Shouted warnings and yipes were not much help as the elf hurled her new missiles with her signature accuracy.

Ivri was off the bench the moment the barrage stopped, snatching up a plate as a shield, and returned fire with a fistful of steamed greens. Tragg, who had lunged to attack Llastra with a roll, took some of them to the side of his face.

In moments, the dining room became a free-for-all of flying food and condiments. Alliances were born and died under a hail of carrots. Betrayals were dealt and returned with slabs of butter and banana pudding. Friendships meant nothing when berries were in the air.

Master Aurelius opened the door just in time to take a chestful of radishes.

Everyone froze.

Aurelius drew in a breath, letting it out slowly. "Clean it up, Daffodils," he said. "I will be back in thirty minutes. It will be spotless. If you are very lucky, I may then consider letting you sleep tonight."

He took one step back and shut the door.

Their muffled laughter could be heard even in the hall.

On the other side of the closed door, Aurelius smiled a little and went to report that the individuals had finally become a team.