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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | Celaven meets with Mordecai and Colson to discuss the fate of Syarra Sunstrike, and what to do about the things the living leave behind, as well as the fate of M'uru and the nature of the blood knights being created in Silvermoon. 3300-ish words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Arc: Sunstrike Story
There is no one in Ironforge HQ on this Tuesday evening. There is a light step on the stairs, and a slender Kaldorei man comes down into the room. He's wearing white robes with a complex embroidered pattern in lavender on the sleeves, accentuating his long, flowing purple hair. He moves quietly to a chair and sits, setting his worried, silver gaze on the entrance stairwell.
At close to the exact minute he said they would be there, Colson knocks politely but firmly on the Headquarters door before opening it. He's wearing his official dark gold and orange field plate — although his gauntlets are off and stowed away — the crystals in the shoulder pauldrons glowing steadily. He seems as mild as always as he makes his way down to the lower level with Mordecai.
Mordecai releases Colson's hand as they step inside headquarters. He is wearing a brown checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled up past the elbows, and brown pants tucked into his boots. As he descends the stairs, he looks at Celaven with a very faint smile.
Celaven raises a hand in greeting. In smooth Common, he says, "Good evening! I apologize for my earliness. I confess your letter left me somewhat concerned."
"Good evening, Celaven," Mordecai says politely. He looks at Colson as Celaven mentions the letter.
"Thank you for meeting with us. I apologize for the distress. I did not want you to be caught unaware," Colson says, as he makes his way to a chair near Celaven, sitting gracefully, his posture as straight as always. "I am afraid I may have particularly bad news of someone you may know. May I ask, are you acquainted with a Sin'dorei woman by the name of Syarra?"
Mordecai takes a seat next to Colson, twisting his hands together in his lap.
The concern on Celaven's face turns to confusion. "Syarra? Yes, of course, but I was unaware she was known to any other in the company." Celaven sits back in the chair, crossing his hands and resting them on his lap. "If you thought to bring me news of her death, I am aware. She went missing in the Eastern Plaguelands months ago. But why would you think that I knew her?"
"I am sorry for your loss," Colson says gently. "I will explain in a moment why, but first — the Syarra you knew, was her surname Sunstrike?"
Mordecai chews on his lower lip, not saying anything.
"Yes, that was her name," he nods. "Syarra Sunstrike. I met her first by chance. She was a blood knight working alongside the Argent Dawn."
Mordecai winces faintly. "Well. It's her, then. I'm sorry. Were the two of you close?"
Colson exhales slowly, glancing at Mordecai before returning his attention to Celaven. "That is most unfortunate. I do not know your feelings on the Ebon Blade to know how unwelcome this knowledge may be, but the Syarra you knew is one of their ranks. She was raised as a Death Knight, and is acquainted with…one of the knights that I know who mentioned a 'Syarra' of unknown surname who recalled someone from our company – you. I have been attempting to locate her, on behalf of her sister, Aszera, and you have confirmed that they are unfortunately the same person."
"Not very close, but perhaps closer than most who knew her and are still alive," Celaven looks down, blinking, confusion still on his face as he takes in all this new information. "I… suspected as much. I thought I saw her, in the battle, but it was so fast. But her sister still lives? I was looking for her… Velrin was helping me."
Colson's brows raise slightly. "Ah. I see. Yes. Aszera is still alive, although…ah. Altered, perhaps, from what you might be expecting. She has been deliberately difficult to find, as she has been recovering from certain circumstances. Was Syarra looking for her?"
"Why were you looking for Aze — Aszera?" Mordecai asks quietly.
"Altered," Celaven says, as though confused as to the meaning of the word. "No, Syarra was not looking for her. She and her team were presumed dead — their horses made it back to Light's Hope Chapel. Some small items of Syarra's were recovered, but there was no one to collect them. I offered to try to bring them to the only living family I was aware of. The sister in Outland."
Mordecai nods. "Um, Aze is a friend of mine. I can help, um, if you wanted to meet her? Or - or we could take her sister's things to her for you if that's what you'd prefer?"
"It is also not impossible that Syarra may wish for her personal effects returned to her, as she is no longer as…unable to claim them as she was before," Colson says, his voice softer. "Although, it seems to be the general case that Death Knights do not return as they were, and she may not have any particular interest in her past items. Aszera may find some comfort in them, in that case."
Celaven looks between the two of them, and then decides to answer Mordecai first. "May I ask how you came to be friends? Velrin and I found records with the Sunfury that she had been reassigned to follow Illidan Stormrage, and I confess I had no clear idea of how to find her among the enemy. I had hoped Velrin might find some clue while working in Shadowmoon Valley, but that seems to have been a dead end as well." Turning to Colson, he continues, "As for the other suggestion… I am not certain it would be meaningful to a death knight. Whatever evil has been done to her corpse, the Syarra I knew is likely gone."
Colson inclines his head in acknowledgement. "You knew Syarra best of anyone here, and I shall default to your judgment for her wishes. As for Aszera, there have been many changes in alliances, as Illidan's leadership leaves many unfortunately personally aware why he is known as 'The Betrayer.' But, I believe Aszera herself may be the best one to share her story of how she came to where she is. Suffice to say, to reassure you of her allegiance and ours, that she is no longer following Illidan, and has sought shelter among those who oppose the Legion."
Mordecai nods. "She, um, came to see me for a medical consultation," he mumbles, waving a hand like he's trying to brush the subject off. "She didn't feel comfortable coming to the infirmary in Shattrath."
Celaven rests against the back of the chair, letting out a long sigh. "I'm not even sure what my judgment should be. It is so much to learn, all at once. Syarra dead, but not. Her sister alive, but unwell. And you… have befriended both defectors and death knights?"
Colson's expression goes even more neutral, but his tone remains unchanged; he might as well be speaking of the weather. "No. We have not befriended a death knight. We have coordinated with the Ebon Blade on the recovery of one our own who was captured after the Battle of Light's Hope by a Death Knight who continues to serve the Lich King. I knew two of them in life, but they are not as they were. I am not certain friendship is even possible with one of their kind. As you know from the newsletter," Colson says with excessive confidence in the level of how widely read the newsletter is, "They are dangerous to every living person, with the Hunger they feel. Time will tell if they are capable of anything more than a wary, temporary alliance. At the moment, it was necessity more than preference that played a factor in the outcome. I will admit that they did as they were asked, and as far as I can tell, remained within the bounds of the Alliance."
"Aze is my friend though," Mordecai says firmly. "She regrets following Illidan, and…" Whatever the and might be, he trails off regardless.
"Then maybe I should meet this Aze. There is a journal, her sister's. I don't read the language, but I feel it should pass through as few hands as possible. As for Syarra…" he also has trouble finishing his sentences, it seems.
Colson nods slowly. "Of course. I shall bring the news of her sister's fate to Aszera. I could pass along your contact information, if you would like. I expect she would want to meet with you for that purpose. It is likely she will wish to set the terms of the meeting, and if you have any reason to feel discomfort about it, I am certain we could arrange for one of her acquaintances or friends in the Company that you trust to accompany you."
Mordecai nods. "She's been staying in Shattrath, I believe." A small pause. "Have you been well…?" he asks in that awkward, shy sort of mumble, quiet enough for Celaven to ignore the question if he doesn't want to answer it.
"Thank you," Celaven says, and then turns to Mordecai. "I… am as well as can be expected, I suppose. I meant to bring her terrible news, and now I see the news is worse than I thought. Yet another person I have utterly failed, but then, this is not about me in the slightest."
Colson's voice softens and gentles. "That is always difficult, to feel as though there must have been something more one could have done. In this case though, I believe you have succeeded at the very least in ensuring that Syarra's fate is known, and her life valued and preserved. It may not feel like a victory in the face of such grief, but I expect your part will aid very much in the healing of it with time."
"You're right, I'm sure," Celaven tries to smile, but it isn't very convincing. "I suppose I am one of at least two living people who carry memories of her, and perhaps that will have to be enough."
"I'm sure she'll be grateful to get her sister's journal," Mordecai says softly. He looks faintly concerned, still.
"I hope so," Celaven looks down at his hands for a moment, and then back up at the priest and paladin. "In any case, I think it's the right thing to do. Is there anything you would like to know from me, about Syarra? To carry to Aze, or if you need… in case any information might be useful to safeguard yourselves against what she is now?"
Mordecai looks at Colson and tilts his head.
Colson glances down at his hands, running his right thumb along his forefinger slowly. "Do you believe, given who she was before, that it is possible that she might pose a true danger to Aszera now? I recognize that it may be impossible to say for certain, given what she is, but I would very much like to know your opinion, if you are willing to give it."
"I have not spoken with any of these Ebon Blade knights myself," Celaven says slowly. "But if there is any part of her left, or any part that believes itself to be Syarra… then I do not think so. She was not an unkind person, and she spoke of her sister with affection." A faint smile flickers on his face as he remembers. "And how I met her… I had gone into the Plaguelands alone, for business that seems irrelevant now. She was patrolling the area, alone due to an ill companion, when our paths crossed. There was no reason she could not have simply passed by, but she was concerned that I was in danger alone. She insisted we travel together until I was safely back at Light's Hope Chapel."
Colson inclines his head, and there's a twitch in his hand that he halts before it becomes a gesture. His voice remains as calm and even as it has been, although there's something stilted about the cadence of it, as though this calm is more forced. "It sounds as though she had a noble heart. You called her a 'blood knight,' a term I have only heard used a few times. What do you know of it? Did she…share with you any details of what precisely that entails?"
"When she mentioned it, I assumed it was another paladin order," Celaven looks up at Colson, his brow creasing gently. "But… she struggled to call the Light. I could see that it hurt her, when she tried. I asked her about it and… there was some bitterness there. An unhealed wound."
Mordecai frowns very faintly. He starts to reach towards Colson's chair, catches himself, and folds his hands in his lap again.
There's a flicker on Colson's face, of some fleeting movement rapidly smoothed out. "No, they are not an order of paladins. It is possible that if what I have heard is true, then perhaps the difficulty she faced was due to the method by which she obtained her power."
"I am not intending to cause you distress, speaking of this,"Celaven says, perhaps more to Mordecai's reaction than the calmly-controlled paladin. "Tell me if I should stop. I do not know what method they used, only that it was not meant to require faith. She… claimed they were abandoned by the Light, in the Fall. She saw it as fickle, untrustworthy. I do not, of course, and I tried to speak to her of Elune, but…" Celaven shakes his head, "If only I'd had more time."
Colson's eyes go hard, but he exhales slowly. His voice is colder than it was before, but it's still relentlessly polite and calm. "I see. What I have been told is that they have one of the naaru that they captured when the Draenei were forced to flee Draenor, who they have been forcing to grant a blessing sufficient to attempt to bring forth a paladin's powers, and it seems as though they are doing so even for those who lack the faith to wield it. It is a monstrous twisting of the gift of the Light, that is causing one of the Light's children great pain, potentially bringing about its death."
Mordecai says gently to Celaven, "You deserve to know." He inches his chair a tiny bit closer to Colson's, and there's an audible scraping sound. Mordecai stops moving immediately.
Celaven's eyes widen with horror, and his mouth drops open slightly. "A naaru? That cannot be allowed to continue. But as for the individuals…" he shakes his head. "I do not know if it is worse to try to build good from an act of evil, or to take a genuine blessing and twist it to evil ends. Faith is not always synonymous with goodness, and the Light itself does not seem to judge."
Mordecai looks down and he hums a very brief fragment of song to himself. The melody could very well be a naaru's song, with a bit of imagination.
Colson's head turns slightly, as he glances at Mordecai. When he returns his attention to Celaven, Colson's voice is incredibly mild, and his face looks almost mask-like in its neutrality. "I am very well aware of the complicated nature of faith. I was a disciple of Sir Dathrohan's, before the rise of the Scarlet Crusade. I know how the Light can be twisted even by those who believe in it deeply enough to wield it. But, just as writing can not be said to be inherently evil or good, when one imprisons another to draw their blood as ink, it taints the writing beyond any saving — no intent, no matter how noble, and no deed, no matter how good, can undo the stain of that abomination."
"It must have been difficult, seeing the path his followers chose," Celaven nods with sympathy, the only giveaway to tension a slight tightening of one hand on the other. "Each of us has a line beyond which we cannot consider offering forgiveness. I respect yours."
"The Scarlet Crusade was orchestrated by The Legion, deliberately intended to sow chaos and discord among the followers of the Light. Perhaps we will find, in the end, they are behind this monstrosity as well," Colson says, his voice even and mild as though reporting the weather. "Regardless, what will be done about the blood knights shall be determined by the Draenei Prophet Velen, who has foreseen something, and will guide that path forward. In the meantime, we must act with what we can, small as it may seem in scale compared to such stakes."
Mordecai nods to Celaven. He doesn't seem to feel the need to say anything, but he's definitely listening.
"Well, who can say. I do not pretend that my opinion or lack thereof has bearing on what should be done about any human or sin'dorei organization, or even any among my own people," Celaven shifts his weight, as if to stand. "I can only do what is within my range — to care for those I meet and attempt to tend their wounds, ineffectual as I may be." He smiles, though there seems to be only sadness in the expression. "A sentiment that brings to mind an argument I've had with Velrin. In any case, I would appreciate if you would give Aze my contact information. Have I answered your questions satisfactorily?"
"Yes, thank you." Colson hesitates and then says, his voice very neutral, "I am sorry to hear that you argued. We recently went to visit her in Dolanaar, and I am afraid it did not go particularly well. Her grief appears to be very…influential in her behavior. Do you know if she has considered, perhaps, taking a leave of absence from work? I understand her mission is very important to her, but her health should be prioritized."
"I think we all know what it's like," Mordecai says quietly, "to do what we can that is within our range, ineffectual as we may be, sometimes. But other times… it makes all the difference in the world." It's the most Mordecai's spoken this entire conversation thus far, and he doesn't quite look at Celaven as he says it.
Celaven looks at Mordecai and nods once, his expression softening. "And that is why it is always worth it to try."
To Colson, he sighs and adds, "I am not surprised to hear it. I'm starting to think that while she cares very much about people in the abstract, she cares very little about them in specific. She has said nothing to me about her plans, but then… she has not been around, at all, lately."
"It is always worth it to try," Colson agrees in echo. He inclines his head to Celaven. "I hope she finds some peace, soon. Thank you for meeting with us. I wish it were for happier purpose, but…" Colson makes an elegant gesture with a roll of his wrist. "I shall let Aszera know to contact you. Will you pass along my regards to your mother, next you speak with her? I do hope she is well."
Mordecai stands up. He starts to hold a hand out to Colson, seems to realize something, and clasps his hands together behind his back. "Ande'thoras ethil, Celaven," he says. His accent is decent, or at least not glaring, and his pronunciation is correct.
"I will be sure to. She is such a social butterfly these days," Celaven says, with a touch of humor returning to his eyes. He rises and bows gently to Mordecai. "You speak well. Ande'thoras ethil."
Mordecai smiles, shy, and ducks his head. "Thank you."
"Light be with you," Colson says, holding up a hand in offer of a Blessing of Wisdom.
"And with the both of you as well," Celaven says, moving towards the stairs. "I expect I'll see you in Shattrath."