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| Details |
| Author: | Aly |
| Summary: | Field medic Jenzelle Halveris makes a decision regarding her future. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
It was after a particularly gruesome battle, one in which the Scourge had ambushed them on the way to Hearthglen, headed up by a skeletal sorcerer commanding an army of ghouls and a geist or two. Three lives fell into the hands of field medic Jenzelle Halveris, who rushed to their aid as soon as the fighting died down, armed with first aid and emergency supplies. Elsha Veris was the first, a girl known for her musical talent, always wearing a bright smile. Sometimes, during their downtime in the cities, she would play for them in the taverns, while Jothran Silvertone sang along.
But she wasn’t a fighter. Commander Mondragon had done the best she could, training her to use a bow, but the geists came at them from a side they weren’t expecting, and Elsha had been the first to fall. Jenzelle patched her up as well as she could, but even as she moved to help the next injured Scarlet, she knew Elsha wouldn’t make it, and their nights in the taverns would be quieter for it.
Rayan Wildcroft was the second, a fierce and angry young man who always had something nasty to say, and in battle, he was the first to charge in and the last to stop fighting, even after there was nothing left standing. The Scourge had taken everything from him, just as it had many others, but he would often speak of his silver tabby, Rain, and the last moments they had spent together. Rayan was dead before Jenzelle could even examine his wounds.
The third was another wild one, a girl with short black hair and dark eyes, whose anger burned cold and sharp. Taya Lynds, who favored daggers and darkness, and never talked about her past. She was already a skilled fighter when the squad was formed, but Commander Mondragon had trained her strengths, and because of that, she was only lightly injured. A scrape on her leg, a gash on her arm, nothing that wouldn’t heal with proper cleaning and time. She mumbled a thank you, as Jenzelle bound her wounds.
They made camp that night in an abandoned farmhouse, with Alver Lensfort and Ralaea Westwind on patrol. Jothran, too, kept an eye on doors and windows, probably to watch the patrol, in case they needed help. Jenzelle sat in the kitchen, her supplies laid out on the floor in front of her, checking, and organizing, and trying not to think of those who were lost. When a pair of boots entered her line of vision, she glanced up and found herself staring into the eyes of Commander Kaela Mondragon.
She was beautiful up close, like a sculpture carved in ice, fragile, ethereal, and cold. It was only during these fleeting moments of quiet that she didn’t wear her helmet. Jenzelle scrambled to her feet. “Commander.”
“Just Kaela tonight, Jenzelle. I am not here as your commander.” Her step was light as she approached the perfectly intact table that Jenzelle could have been using but opted to hide in a corner instead.
Jenzelle tried to find something to do with her hands, somewhere to put them that didn’t seem strange or awkward, but eventually she settled for clasping them in front of her, and turned her nervous attention to ‘Kaela.’ “Well. W-what can I do for you?”
“Today was difficult.” Kaela’s blue eyes, illuminated by the moonlight spilling through the kitchen window, searched her own. “I came to check on you.”
The reminder of loss stung her heart, and her hands gripped each other harder as she fought away the tears she knew were coming. “I’m alright,” she said, trying to hold the Commander’s eye contact, even though she desperately wished to look away. “It won’t affect my perform—”
But the Commander was already shaking her head. “I’m not here to assess you, Jenzelle.” Her voice was soft, and surprisingly warm. “And it’s alright to cry.”
“But…you don’t.” Jenzelle squeezed her hands together. She couldn’t show weakness, not here, not when people depended on her to patch them up when they got hurt. If smiling let them know everything would be okay, what would crying tell them?
“At the end of this war,” Kaela turned towards the window and her eyes grew distant. “I will cry for all of you. Those of you who make it, and those who do not. But right now, I am here for you. To support you, and to protect you. If you can cry today, it is because you are alive, and I have done my job. The failures…the loss…those are my burdens to bear.” She motioned her closer.
Jenzelle stepped around her supplies and hesitantly approached the table. Kaela produced two newly cleaned insignias from a satchel at her waist. Elsha Veris and Rayan Wildcroft. The names of the two who had fallen. Jenzelle stared at the insignias in confusion. “You’re keeping them?”
“I’m collecting them.” They were standing so close that Kaela’s shoulder could have touched hers, and for the first time, Jenzelle saw the sorrow through her icy mask. “It’s my hope that, whoever is left at the end of all this will bury them somewhere. Together.”
Though she tried to stop it, a tear slid down Jenzelle’s cheek, and she quickly scrubbed it away.
The ghost of a smile passed over Kaela’s lips, but even though it was faint and fleeting, it held affection. “You are a compassionate person. Have you ever considered becoming a priestess?”
“A priestess? Me? Is that…allowed?” Her eyes traveled to the floor, where her medical supplies were laid out. How many more could she save with the Light on her side?
“Training another priestess can only benefit the Scarlet Crusade,” Kaela said. “I can make the arrangements, if that is a path you’d like to walk.” She turned to leave. “Give it the consideration it is due. You can tell me what you’ve decided when we reach Hearthglen.” And then she was gone, disappearing from the room without even a creak of the floorboards.
From the other room, she could hear the sound of Mevlin snoring; he was always quick to sleep. There were others in that room, trying to do the same, though none could hope to be as successful, despite how easy he made it look. Jothran was still awake, staring out the window. He met her gaze, briefly, and followed up with a polite nod before returning his attention to the patrol outside.
Jenzelle brought her hands up to her chest and clasped them there. Everyone was fighting so hard. If there was any way she could protect them…
In the shimmering moonlight, she closed her eyes and whispered, “Elsha, Rayan, I’m sorry. I can do better. I will do better. We will reclaim Lordaeron with our own hands, and when we do, we’ll remember everyone who helped us come this far. Thank you for sharing your lives with us, and for being our friends and companions. We will not forget you. Thank you for your service.”
The tears flowed freely, as Jenzelle packed up her things. She would wait until Hearthglen as she was told, but her mind was already made up.