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| Details |
| Author: | Mishell |
| Summary: | Sidhanei Ambersong receives a peculiar invitation. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Chain: To Paint a Picture
"Get this." Sidhanei recited aloud in elven from a recently acquired tome from a local library—if that meager collection of books could be called such. She strolled beside a great and saddled Frostsaber down the cobbled Stormwind streets, glancing up periodically to avoid running into others on the road. "This ancient Kaldorei magister theorized magic never left its moldable state and could therefore be altered post-casting with the right means. She posited, erroneously—wait, erroneously?! Unbelievable—that it was humanoid shortcomings of more precise movement and observation which checked the manipulation of magical capabilities beyond physical reach and hindered the efficiency of working invocations, creating the false precept of a 'finalized spell.'" She shook her head. "Unbelievable. It is astonishing they ever discovered arcane party tricks, much less practical sorcery."
The large frostsaber beside her made a noise somewhere between a chuckle or coughing up a hairball.
"Still going on about that? Those pages of THE GREEN HILLS OF STRANGLETHORN were already missing from their copy." The kaldorei closed the tome she held and reached out to scratch the saber behind the ears. "I know better than to believe any saber of mine would ever harm a book. It was an unjust accusation, do not let it get to you."
Jinx yawned, stretching her feline paws out in delighted bliss in the middle of the street.
The elven woman laughed, "I wish my problems could vanish that easily."
An armored Sentinel, looking slightly out of place on the Stormwind streets, was just on the point of passing by Sidhanei and Jinx when she doubled back, falling in step alongside them at a polite distance. Her pale violet face was marked by strangely gory-looking trails beneath her eyes, her deeper violet hair pulled back in a neat tail. She stared openly at Sidhanei, but in a strange, abstracted way that suggested that she wasn’t fully aware she was staring.
One hand lifted into the air, almost as though she were on the point of casting a spell, but nothing happened; she seemed instead to be absently framing the sight of the woman and cat, analyzing it in some complex, detached fashion.
Sid caught a glimpse of the out-of-place, staring sentinel in the corner of her eye. She blinked, trying to size the woman up discreetly. "Jinx, I believe we are clogging up the street here." The elf ushered the large Frostsaber along as quickly as the big cat was willing to move, down a side road.
The Hunter schooled her features, and with an apologetic look back, "Apologies for the roadblock."
The Sentinel startled slightly, as though aware for the first time that she’d fallen into the other woman’s orbit. Her hand lifted minutely away from the handle of the sword at her hip, a nonverbal I am not on duty gesture. As if her presence on the streets of a foreign city with its own guards were not indication enough.
“You’re not in my way,” she said. Her voice was clipped, terse, but not unkind. “You caught my eye.” Judging by her slight grimace, she seemed immediately to see how this might be misinterpreted. “I paint,” she clarified. “Sometimes I am distracted by faces.”
"I see," Sidhanei said through a wide, friendly smile, but her hand was resting on the hilt of her spellblade. "And what is it about my face that caught your eye?"
The Sentinel seemed to take a moment to consider this, as though she weren’t quite certain herself.
“The scars,” she said at last bluntly. “The faded markings. Both suggest… history. And something in the way you carry yourself.” The Sentinel tilted her head slightly, her luminous silver eyes taking Sidhanei in with that same cool, distant satisfaction. “I would very much like to hire you as a model.”
It was not expressed as an offer, exactly. Her words held the same detached quality as her expression, as though she were simply stating a fact and didn’t expect any results.
Sidhanei lofted an eyebrow. "A…a model?" She took a breath and blinked a few times as she attempted to process the offer. Her amber eyes still scrutinizing the off-duty Sentinel for signs of deception.
After a long moment, Ambersong sighed. "Not my typical line of work but," she scratched at the back of her neck, "I—I suppose I could."
The Sentinel’s violet brows lifted in surprise, the corners of her mouth quirking briefly upward. Something of the raw, unfiltered quality of youth lingered in her expression; here was someone who’d likely not yet seen her first millennium.
“I’m Lara,” she said. “Larawen Rivenbark. I live in Astranaar.” She rummaged through the bag slung over her shoulder for paper and pen, and carefully wrote down an address. She approached then, cautiously respectful of the cat, to offer the paper to Sidhanei. “I’m at home in the mornings and early afternoons.”
Sidhanei accepted the parchment and looked it over closely. She flipped it over and back a few times. "Thank you, sister. You may call me Sidhanei."
"We will be sure to stop by," Sid folded the note into a pocket. "Won't we, Jinx?" The giant frostsaber yawned in response. "She says 'we will be there.'"
The Sentinel — Lara — laughed softly, a sound that seemed to surprise her. “Thank you,” she said. And then after a moment’s hesitation, she added, “Inspiration has been in short supply.” With that, she gave a strangely formal bow, palms pressed together. “Elune light your path.”
She turned to go, her eyes distant, as though already composing the picture in her mind.