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| Details |
| Author: | Aly |
| Summary: | Brendol and Jenzelle call Ralaea to Stormwind to celebrate the holidays and take a break from the horrors of the Plaguelands. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
(Timey, occurs at roughly the same(ish) time as The Briefing RP )
They met her at the gryphon roost, a weary-eyed, stumbling mess of a sister. It was the worst Bren had ever seen her, and he’d seen her sick with fevers, and drenched in mud and pond water, and after missions with her squad. It looked like she had given up on something, some drive that had kept her moving forward all this time. All her anger, impatience, and action was replaced by dull, slow, exhaustion.
Jenzelle was the first to move, plucking a gryphon feather out of Rae’s hair and gently squeezing her shoulders. “Goodness, you’re a mess.”
Rae mumbled a greeting, and gave Bren a nod. It was strange, seeing her with so little energy. Had she even fought it, when Tabiana suggested she return to Stormwind for the holiday?
Bren gave his sister a smile. “Rae. I’m happy you could come. Jenzelle was excited to spend the new year with you, and…” He trailed off as Rae’s eyes shifted towards something distant. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s here,” she replied, skirting them both and heading for the ramp to exit the roost. “He’s always here.”
Jenzelle frowned in concern, and she looked to Bren. “Does she mean…?”
“Yeah…” He followed his sister, staying a few paces behind to watch her. Since when had she started referring to the Death Knight as ‘he?’
Jenzelle hovered close to him, looking around in every direction as they walked. “I don’t see him. Is he really here, or…?”
“I’m not sure how she caught on, but…yeah, he’s most likely nearby. Don’t worry, though. He’s not like he was the last time you saw him, and I don’t think he’s going to make himself readily visible.” Bren found her looking up at him with an uncomfortable mix of concern and doubt. “It’s…alright if you don’t believe me. You’ll see, eventually.”
After a bit of a hesitation, her eyes searching his face for something, she looked back towards Rae. “…I trust you, Bren.”
His heart felt lighter somehow, hearing those words, and he smiled.
The winter cold did not deter the bustling crowds of midday Stormwind, made even more lively by the street magician, shooting off tiny fireworks for a group of children, while his associate passed out sparklers. They paused beside a well, mostly because Rae realized she had no idea where they were going and stopped so they could catch up. Jenzelle took the lead from there, beaming her bright and beautiful smile and praising a little cafe she found right near the park.
Bren hung back, letting the two girls walk ahead while he watched over them, hands in his pockets. It was milder than the Lordaeron winters they were used to, but still cold, and he thought about offering Jenzelle his jacket. Rae was still wearing her armor, and all things considered they would probably have to peel her out of it by force.
As if their minds connected, Jenzelle’s voice drifted back to him, “You were in a squad with Lady Cressidha. Did she ever make you any clothes?”
Rae shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”
“Well, she is a wonderful tailor. I was lucky enough to watch her work, and it was like a performance!” Jenzelle studied Rae for a moment. “Have you gotten any new clothes since the Crusade? I know you preferred to wear what was issued, but it’s been…a while, since then.”
“There’s no need.” Rae turned her gaze back to the street in front of them as they passed through the tunnel separating Trade District from the canals, and Bren felt something tighten in his chest. They had all changed since Lordaeron, there wasn’t a person who could say otherwise, but it felt like Rae had changed the most. A change that was uncomfortable at times.
“You used to care.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. This wasn’t the time or place for an argument, but the words kept spilling, like a cup of soup filled too full. “Remember? Before you went out, you’d ask me what I thought of your clothes, and…even though I wasn’t very helpful, you’d always ask.” And on those days she knew Harvey was coming into town, she’d wear the tighter clothes, along with a mischievous smile that had always made Bren feel bad for him.
“She was self-conscious about it?” Jenzelle asked, looking back at him in surprise. Self-conscious? No. She was bold. She was confident and comfortable, and knew exactly what she was doing. She’d only come to him to show off, it didn’t matter what he said. But how could he begin to explain that to someone who’d never seen it?
“It was a different time,” Rae said dismissively. She didn’t even correct them.
As if sensing something between them, Jenzelle quieted, and an awkward silence settled.
The walk along the canals would have been peaceful, if not for the tension. The sun was out, reflecting off the blue of the water, and the scent of fir trees carried on the breeze, left over from Winter’s Veil celebrations. One such tree had somehow found its way behind a pile of crates, where a young man with bright orange hair, probably not far off from Bren’s own age, sat eating a loaf of bread. Their eyes met, and the man gave a cheerful wave, like one would greet a friend.
Did he know this man? Bren looked to the girls for help, but neither of them was paying attention, one lost in her thoughts, the other too tired to do more than put one foot in front of the other. But it would be rude not to wave back… Hesitantly, and with a smile more timid than he intended, Bren raised a hand in greeting. The other man seemed satisfied with this, his face breaking into a wide grin that washed Bren’s worries right out of him. It reminded him, somehow, of a priestess with a smile like the sun, who’d visited the school in Lordaeron from time to time. He couldn’t help his own smile, even after they’d passed by.
They crossed a stone bridge, and the water of the canals glittered beneath them. From somewhere within the nearby Cathedral District, the sounds of children laughing came to meet them, and for a few seconds, Bren closed his eyes to listen. “Jenzelle? Did you ever meet a priestess with orange hair back in Lordaeron? She traveled sometimes, to teach. I know that’s not very specific, but…”
“Sister Kairese?” Jenzelle perked up instantly.
“Yeah!” he said, surprised. “That’s the one. You knew her?”
Jenzelle’s beaming smile returned. “Oh, yes. She often came by to teach a group of us from a patch of farms close together. All kinds of things, too. Reading, writing, math, and all about the Light. We didn’t have a school close to where we lived, so our parents, or mine at least, really appreciated her making the time to do that. I know many of the girls, myself included, really admired her. I always thought if I wasn’t a farmer, I’d be a priestess like her, but I didn’t imagine it would happen quite like this. Did you know her too, Rae?”
They both looked over at her, to find that her expression had gone murky. She nodded once, and that was all.
“She came to the capitol sometimes,” Bren offered. “That’s how I know her. She always had a gentle approach to teaching, and even the guys who’d normally misbehave were calm when she was around. But it sounds like you saw her more often. I think she mentioned living somewhere outside the city.”
“Hmm…I don’t think she ever told us exactly where.” As they crossed the second bridge, a biting wind blew, rippling the water and drawing a shiver from Jenzelle. Bren practically threw off his jacket to wrap her in it, turning the sleeves inside-out in the process, and making the whole thing actually very awkward.
“Y-you didn’t need to do this,” Jenzelle murmured as he held the jacket over her shoulders while she attempted to correct the sleeves. “Won’t you be cold, now?”
“Nah, this is nothing.” Bren put on a brave grin to hide his true feeling that maybe he should have brought two jackets. He glanced away just in time to catch an appraising look from Rae that he was certain turned his cheeks pink. Thankfully it was cold, so they were most likely that color anyway.
Jenzelle slid her arms into the too-big sleeves and smiled up at him, her own cheeks pink. From the cold, probably. “Well… thank you,” she said.
Rae waited for them on the other side of the bridge, her arms folded across her chest. It was a bit relieving to see something other than exhaustion from her, even if it was mild impatience.
Bren was grateful when they reached the cafe not long after crossing, and were welcomed into its warm, cheerful embrace. It had an open layout and large windows with airy curtains to let the light in. Families young and old sat at the tables dotted around, both on the first floor, and the loft.
They were seated at one of the middle tables, a modest square surrounded by four wooden chairs. But not uncomfortable wooden chairs, Bren noticed as he sat down. The kind made of softer wood, that felt like it was molded to your shape. He stole a glance at Jenzelle as she sat down across from him, still tucked up in his jacket, and smiled.
The scraping of wood on stone interrupted his thoughts, as Rae pulled her chair out and sat down next to them. She did get a few curious looks from the wait staff and customers, probably for showing up in her battle worn armor, but it was normal enough here that no one objected. They ordered their food, Bren and Jenzelle deciding on the pulled pork sandwich, while Rae chose a salad, muttering something about the lack of vegetables in the Plaguelands.
“What was her family name?” Jenzelle suddenly asked, in between bites. “Sister Kairese. I don’t think she ever told us. She…may not still be alive, but her family might.”
“Oh, uh…” Bren searched through his memory, but came up blank. “Good question. I only ever knew her as Sister Kairese.”
“Mondragon,” Rae said, drawing their eyes to her. “Kairese Mondragon.” Her expression had darkened considerably.
“Oh…” Jenzelle’s face froze in something close to panic.
“Mondragon? But that’s…” The cause of all his sister’s recent problems, wrapped up in one name. The infecter of her arms. Her fallen Commander. The cause of Harvey’s death. It was no wonder Jenzelle reacted as she did.
A stretch of cold silence dragged on, until finally Jenzelle spoke again. “Rae, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
Rae stood up, the chair scraping against the stone floor again. “…Going to use the restroom,” she mumbled, dismissing herself from the table.
Jenzelle stood as well, but didn’t follow her.
Bren watched his sister until she was out of sight. “Ah…she’ll be back. …Hopefully.” He smiled, trying to reassure Jenzelle, but it probably wasn’t convincing. Harvey was better at dealing with Rae, if only he could ask him for advice somehow…
Jenzelle lowered herself back into her seat. The spoiled mood had gotten to her. She stared quietly down at the table like there was some kind of hidden code etched into the wood. He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault, and that Rae was just like that sometimes, and to not let the name sour her memories of the priestess. But it wouldn’t help. She probably knew all that, anyway.
So Bren took a deep breath, shook his head, and did his very best murloc impression. “Glrglrglrglrglr!”
He saw the heads of nearby diners and wait staff turn to look in his direction, but he ignored them, focusing instead on Jenzelle, who looked up from the table with wide eyes.
“Grlgrlrglrglrgrl!” echoed an excited young girl at a table nearby, until her mother shushed her.
All at once, like water breaking through a dam, Jenzelle began to laugh. She laughed until tears came to her eyes and she had to wipe them away with a napkin. “Bren,” she said, her face alight in a joyful smile. “I can’t believe you did that! Was that supposed to be a murloc?”
There was no doubt that his face had gone red, and his hands fumbled nervously with his napkin under the table, but seeing her smile again made the embarrassment worth it. “Yeah.” He ducked his head. “How was I? Did I sound like one?”
“Maybe if one was choking!” Jenzelle settled her napkin back neatly into her lap and cleared her throat. “They sound more like… Mrglgrlgrlrgl!”
“Mrglrg—” The young girl quieted under the blistering gaze of her mother.
Bren couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at Jenzelle’s valiant attempt. “You didn’t need to do it too!”
“Of course I did. You did it to cheer me up, and I couldn’t let you be embarrassed all by yourself.” She waved at one of the waitresses to summon her over.
The waitress, an enthusiastic young woman with dark hair, practically bounced over to them, notepad at the ready. “What can I do for you?” Her eager eyes darted from face to face. Even her hair was perky, pulled up into a playful tail, somehow different from how Tabiana wore hers. The particulars of hair and how it worked eluded Bren, and that was probably for the best.
“We would like some pumpkin pie, please. Three slices.” Jenzelle smiled at Rae’s empty seat. “I would hate for her to feel left out when she comes back.”
Lowering her notepad a little, the waitress followed Jenzelle’s gaze, her smile dimming just a little. “That mercenary girl who was with you earlier? I saw her go outside. She’s coming back?”
Jenzelle’s warm smile didn’t falter. “Oh, then can we get those to-go? I still want to eat them together.”
The brightness returned to the waitress’s own smile, and she scribbled the order down. “Sure thing! I’ll be right back with those!” and then she bounced away again.
Disappointment swelled in Bren’s heart. He had hoped some time away from the Plaguelands would help his sister recover, even a little bit, but instead he’d managed to ruin it. “Jenzelle, I’m sorry about—”
Jenzelle shook her head. “Bren, you have nothing to apologize for. And Rae won’t have gone far. She used to do this sort of thing when Mevlin asked about something that made her sad. At that time we had Jothran to coax her back, or sometimes even Commander Mondragon herself. This time, it’ll be us.”
True to Jenzelle’s words, after paying for and boxing up their pies, they found Rae sitting just outside the cafe, leaning against the wall, sleeping. Wait, sleeping? Bren scanned the city streets. A carriage passed by, stopping on the corner to pick up a blonde woman with way too many groceries. Across the street, a gnome was teaching another gnome how to operate a mechanostrider. By the canals a young mage was practicing fireworks, but her spells were too strong and a Stormwind guard was approaching her, probably to ask her to stop. Just normal city noise and activity. No sign of a certain Death Knight, not that Bren had ever managed to spot him anyway.
“He must have…gone somewhere,” he concluded, turning back to the girls, only to find Jenzelle crouched beside Rae, carefully weaving a sprig of holly into her hair. On closer inspection, it appeared to be some sort of hair clip. “Is that…?”
“We didn’t get to celebrate holidays in the Scarlet Crusade. All the days sort of blurred together, and we were so busy, besides.” Jenzelle stood up and straightened her clothes, the clip now secure in Rae’s hair. It was cute, and festive. “But even during wars and hardship, girls shouldn’t have to forget to be girls. Right?”
Bren thought again of Tabiana, who always took time in the mornings to clean up properly, brush her hair and put it up. Was that why she did it? To remember who she was, even through all of the fighting? “I bet she’ll like it,” he said. “The hair clip.”
“I hope so,” Jenzelle said, smiling and sliding a matching clip into her own hair. “I wanted to wish her a happy holly day!”