(2023-03-21) Wind, Weather, and Gravity

Details

Author:	Athena
Summary:	In the Howling Fjord, Oranna continues to try to figure out logistics about where people wash up on shores, Lireen learns how much hair Oranna is hiding in that braid, and Jenzelle and Bran bring up an interesting point about the Light as a moral guidance and a force of nature.
Rating:	T for Teen

Westguard Keep doesn't have much to offer for a dwarf who wants more aerial views to effectively scout, but suffers from a fear of falling, which may be why Oranna looks a little pale, and green around the edges of her jaw and forehead as she steps off the zeppelin.

Harrowmeiser yells out, as ineffectively as always, that he is, in fact a prisoner of war and operating this zeppelin under duress. Weirdly, no one seems to be paying any attention to him, or doing much to hold him captive.

Oranna steadies herself, Befound, two times her usual size in pure indignant cat bristled fluff, pads forward off the docking area as though she's also been held captive for HOURS AND HOURS.

"It was five minutes, lass," Oranna mutters.

The Lady Lug, Harrowmeiser helpfully yells, will leave again in TWO MINUTES.

Oranna is approached by a windblown Wildhammer matriarch, her familiar lined face and welcoming smile framed picturesquely by the brass-touched silver of her hair.

"I canna be sure which of you had a worse time up there," she says tranquilly, reaching out to squeeze Oranna's upper arm lightly in greeting. "See anythin' tha' made it worth the trouble, dear?"

Befound plops down on the ground near the forge with a feline huff. IT WAS HER, LIREEN. SHE HAD IT THE WORST.

Oranna gives Lireen a wobbly smile, brushing a few more stray hairs off her face still damp from a cold sweat. "Aye, actually, I think I did. There's a pull of water up the coast, where it looks like the currents would take ye, if ye had to drift, and what looks like a lot of salvage. I'll have to take a closer look on foot ta see where ye'd go from there."

Befound settles down aggressively as if in protest.

"Happy t'come with," Lireen says amiably. "Already gettin' tired o' these bleak human walls. No sense o' beauty at all, the poor dears, though I suppose up here they're not buildin' homes anyhow, just shelters. Dinna matter wha' they look like. All the same, my eyes are itchin' fer beauty, an' there's plenty of it t'be found in the wilds. Oh, I said yer name, didn'i, lass…"

Lireen looks down at Befound and makes a low purring sort of sound, but doesn't attempt physical contact. Then she raises her tranquil gray eyes to Oranna's again.

Befound lifts her head regally. All she got out of that is that she's obviously the beauty of the wilds, which is correct.

Oranna rolls her eyes at Befound, but nods at Lireen with a small smile. "Aye, I could stand to get away from the… the walls," Oranna says and there's something in the tone that's a little shakier. She blows out a breath. "Ye been out much at all south?" Oranna asks as she nods east.

"Nae yet. I spent most o' the trip here yakkin with Stillwall about his crazy cousin and some Titan tomfoolery, an' wasna mindin my surroundins too much. Then I got here an' found a wee human lass needed some trainin' urgently before she ran off an' got herself killed, an' so I got stuck inside the walls fer a bit. Ready fer adventure now t'be sure."

She takes a moment to gently rearrange Oranna's braid so that it hangs more comfortably, then checks her over, scrutinizing her face.

Oranna's clearly not a fan of Bran's cousin, and it shows on her face at the mention, as she shakes her head at the mention of the Titan tomfoolery. There's a look of deep concern at the mention of training, and a deeper, smaller flinch still in her eyes. "Oh, aye? Not one of Cobalt's was it? The lass that was…well, ah, not prepared for the whole…" She sounds concerned, as she gestures vaguely around them.

"Oh nae, Cobalt only sent their best. This was a wee lass from the Valgarde contingent whose squad decided t'follow us here in hopes nothin' would eat them on our watch. She's real eager t'impress her superiors but she hadna been shown some important basics; I wasna just gonna let her run out there usin her shield like somethin t' hide behind."

Oranna sighs deeply, a heavy sound, as she raises a hand to rub at her face. "Ach. Well. She's doin' better now, aye? Did she…it's only been a few weeks, but was she…" That look of discomfort grows, some deep pain rising to the surface. "She good enough ta pick it up that fast?"

"Aye, I think so. Once I showed 'er what she was doin' wrong her eyes lit up an' she caught on fast. Strong an' nimble that one, just poor trained. An' she'll have a squad with her, a priest among ‘em, she said."

Oranna looks away, old pain tracking a path across her lips, but she looks back to Lireen, forcing them back up into a smile. "Aye, that's good," she says sincerely. "They were talkin' about it out in the yard by the turkeys," she adds with a glance over to the birds. "That there's no' quite enough folks here, an' no' quite enough back in Valgarde either. I thought there'd be…well. More."

"Well they still have t'keep forces back a' home, or the Horde an the Twiligh' Hammer an' the Dark Irons'll sweep in an' make sure we"ve nowhere t'go home to when the Lich King falls. Even Cobalt Company left most a' home. But those here are the best o' the best, they got Argent Crisade an' Seventh Legion an' those ferocious dead fellas too, remember - but largely they've all pushed ahead. Yer only seein' a part o' the picture, aye, dear?"

She gives Oranna's braid a very gentle tug, then ghosts a hand beneath her chin with a warm gloved hand. Chin up, lassie.

Oranna gives Lireen a warmer smile, lifting her chin a little. "Reminds me a bit o' the Stormwind kingdom though, being out here again. Goldshire and Westfall, right under the largest city, an' things fallin' apart left an' right, with Alliance forces spread like too thin butter over bread. S'why Elo was out there ta start with. I think I was jus' picturing that this is the sort of place where they must have all been all that time. Now I'm starting to wonder if the problem is that there's never enough…ah…butter."

"Aye, some o' that fer sure." Lireen nods solemnly. "Northern kingdoms an' night elves took heavy losses in the Third War, an' there's just too many fronts t'fight on ever since. But dinna fret over it, lass. Our job is t'do our job. We canna help all Azeroth a' once." She hooks her gloved thumbs into her weapon belt. "So what's next fer us, then? What's our job?"

It doesn't seem to be a rhetorical question; she is giving off a real "up for whatever" vibe.

"I've got ta figure out a way north," Oranna says, gesturing…north, actually. "Ye heard about tha' Whisperin' Place?"

Lireen raises a brow. "Only from the newsletter tellin' us t'steer clear o' the place. What is it ye want up there?"

"That's where th' currents seem ta be pulling, up along th' coast there. I jus'…we'll have ta go around the gulch, on account of th' hearin' things," Oranna says with a vague wave. You know. Things. "I could see some kind o' block of things up that way. Salvage, an' ships that'd run aground."

"All righ' then," says Lireen tranquilly. She smiles and checks over the fit and wear of Oranna's armor with her gaze. "Need a bit of a rest before we head up there, or are ye lookin' t'go right away?"

Upon asking the question she pulls up a fur hood up over her own silver mane, as though even tough dwarven ears must protest against the unnatural Northrend cold.

Oranna looks at Befound with a rueful expression, and runs her hand over her own braid self consciously. Oranna does look pretty wind blown. "Maybe could get into the inn for a wee bit, check in with the others. Make sure they know where we'll be."

Befound looks as though it might take her several fish to be convinced to do anything more today. She went on the infernal sky beast already! The snow leopard stands and pads over on silent feet to Oranna. Feed her fish. She is starving, actually.

"Maybe ye'll let me rebraid yer hair while we're inside?" Lireen suggests amiably. "I miss havin' all that long thick hair - mine's got so thin these days I just saw it off at the shoulder or it looks a fright. But I've still got the fastest braidin' fingers in the Hinterlands. Maybe in Azeroth."

She rummages in her pack as she speaks, and oops, a bit of dried fish happens to fall right in Befound's path.

"Oh, ach, it's…it's long, an'…" Oranna says, color blooming in her cheeks. "It takes forever ta put back up, but if ye…well, I suppose if Befound was wanting a rest afore we go…"

Befound stares at the fish! She looks up at Oranna. Is this what could await her if she had not one but two hunters feeding her? And since Oranna never feeds her, ever, shouldn't she be able to have this sacred offering?

Oranna rolls her eyes. "Ach, lass, dinna give me that. Ye had seven fish on the ship…flying thing. But, aye, ye can have this one, too," the hunter mutters.

Befound springs onto it like it was alive and about to scuttle away. Success. She has been fed.

The fish is gone. She looks up at Oranna. She has never been fed before in her entire life. Feed her.

"Yer furry lass there reminds me o' me youngest daughter when she was small. Like someone cut a hole in the bottom of 'er belly."

Lireen grins at Oranna and then reaches out to give a brief, gentle tug of the younger woman's hand toward the inn. She drops the hand quickly enough, more of an affectionate than a coercive gesture.

"Let's get ourselves all settled an' braided an' maybe eat an' drink a little, fortify ourselves, before we start up there. Maybe even pack a few things, if there's a chance we might spend the night out there, aye?"

Befound huffs at Lireen. She's a growing girl. Pay no attention to the fact that she's fully grown.

Oranna eyes the inn with a bit of nervousness, nibbling at her bottom lip, but she nods. "Right. Some food maybe. I…I dinna drink. Alcohol, I mean. Of course I drink other things. Water, usually, I…I don't just mean anything. That seal whey is…I'm sure some people, I mean, if ye like it!" Oranna cuts herself off with a mumble, and starts walking for the inn to forestall anything worse.

"Well I'm sure they've go' water," Lireen muses, unbothered. "Plenty of ice an' snow around here fer the meltin'."

She follows after Oranna, overtaking her gradually in just enough time to get the heavy inn door for her. Not that Oranna couldn't, but Lireen has slightly ridiculous arms and handles the hardwood slab as though it were a sheer curtain. Not bad for a lady who's had a bicentennial.

Oranna takes a deep breath of fresh air before she steps — almost on a turkey that made a break for the door. "Ach! Off with ye," Oranna says with no real rancor in her voice, shooing the bird away.

For whatever reason or another, either the words or the giant snow leopard looking at the bird like it's free range dinner time, it's a total mystery, the turkey turns and high tails it out of there.

Oranna gets into the inn, and it may not be immediately apparent, but she's taking shallower breaths in here, like she's trying not to get the smell too deep in her nose.

"Looks like a nice spot over there, out o' the way o' the draft from the door." Lireen points to a small table in the room's center. "Though I reckon it's bad manners t'do yer hair where everyone's eatin' - maybe we grab a bite an' some water t'go, an' head upstairs? I can fix yer hair while ye eat."

She looks to Oranna for confirmation, her manner and expression as serene as always.

"Oh, ah, aye." Oranna makes her way towards the kitchens, directing Befound to the stairs with a flick of her wrist. "They've cheese an' berries an' bread, if ye've a mind fer anything," she offers Lireen. "An', well, they do have some o' the meat cooked usually. Shoveltusk soup, if ye want anything that ways."

"Cheese and berries and bread sound less likely to cause disaster while doin' hair. Speakin' from decades' experience braidin' wee squirmy lasses. An' some water fer us both. I'll go find me good brush; meet me up there wi' some refreshments, aye?"

She sets off up the stairs at an unhurried pace and takes a seat in the chair by the bookshelf, gazing out the window calmly until Oranna arrives upstairs.

Oranna balances the tray very carefully, with the awkwardness of someone who has never worked in the food industry, as she tries to carry it with both hands at hip level.

“Ye can just put that on th'floor here by us. No need t'be formal or anythin',” Lireen says.

Oranna sets the tray down on the floor with a small clatter and a wince. It's pretty full. "It's probably more than we need, but I think they're used ta loading it up fer soldiers."

“I'm a bit like yer furry lass when it comes t'food, so dinna worry tha' et'll go t'waste.”

Befound looks profoundly uninterested in the tray, as she settles comfortably under the table, setting her head on her own tail.

“You get yer fill now, an' I'll polish off th'rest. My hands are gonna be busy fer a bit anyhow,” Lireen says.

Oranna sits next to the tray, fidgeting with the end of her braid a bit. "I've got…pins all in it ta hold it in place, an'…" She digs through a bag and pulls out a tin that rattles a little. Inside are a bunch of more bobby pins. She opens it carefully. “Ye can just put 'em in here fer now.” Oranna sets the tin aside.

“Great! Ye want me t'just do it up the same? Or try somethin' a li'l different?”

“Jus' the same as always. Can't have it catchin' in the gun. The braid's the best way fer it,” Oranna says.

“As ye like it, then.”

“I've tried a bun a few times, but I've too much hair fer it. Feels like I'm wearing a weight on me head.”

Lireen starts undoing the pins and such, plinking them into the tin neatly. There sure are a lot of them in there. The length of her hair is getting more obvious as the pins come out, where she's carefully kept the braid in place. That's several feet of hair in there.

“One thing ye might try sometime es, what ef ye did two weave-braids, ye know, flat against yer head startin' a' the crown, t'distribute the weight… an' then join 'em t'gether in the back?”

Jenzelle wanders up the stairs, peering around at everything as if taking it in for the first time. Which she probably is.

“But probably not best t'try a new hairstyle when yer otherwise doin' a lot o' new things,” Lireen says.

Oranna starts to nod and stops. "Oh, aye, I've tried it. There's jus'…a wee bit too much fer it."

Lireen glances up and smiles at the new arrival, her eyes tranquil. Lireen is in the process of unbraiding Oranna's astonishing quantities of hair.

Oranna looks up as Jenzelle comes into view, her eyes going to the tabard. "Oh! Is tha'…oh, hullo." Oranna looks at Jenzelle without moving her head, as she tries to see the human's face.

[Jenzelle]: “Oh, um. Hello. Don't mind me, I'm just…exploring a bit.”

[Lireen]: “Just arrived here recently did ye? Ye come up from Valgarde, or…?”

There's just so much hair. Hair for days. You could fit three Oranna's in this hair.

[Jenzelle]: “Yes, Valgarde. I was helping the medics there with some of the wounded…it was quite a scene for a while.”

Lireen smiles at the young human, creating wrinkles around her eyes that were almost invisible before despite her silver hair. "Oh aye, thanks fer yer service then. I'm one o' those needin' patched up more often than no'."

[Oranna]: “Oh, aye. They're…are they, tha' is, they're doin' okay back there? No' hurtin' fer the lack of us on the bulwarks?” Oranna seems nervous that maybe, just maybe, with Cobalt gone it's all fallen apart in Valgarde.

Bran's deep rumbly hum comes floating up the stairs before he arrives. He's humming a cheerful dwarven dance tune.

[Jenzelle]: “Things have calmed down quite a bit once the harpoons stopped raining down on us. There's still the vrykul attacks on occasion, but it's not like it was.”

[Bran]: “Well, no one told me there was a party upstairs!”

Oranna starts to look over, and stops herself. "Bran!" She gives him a little cheerful wave.

[Bran]: “Snacks an' all!”

Jenzelle squeaks at the sudden arrival and nearly trips on herself to step to one side.

Bran goes for a handful of berries, but Lireen smacks his hand.

Oranna laughs, and wiggles her fingers at the tray of Goat Cheese, Berries, and Bread. There's no meat.

[Lireen]: “Those are fer Oranna.”

[Oranna]: “I dinna mind sharin' a few. It's more than I can eat.”

Bran smiles genially at everyone, including the woman who just smacked him.

[Lireen]: “I said, you eat ferst.” Stern Mom Voice. “Then Bran an' I can go fer what's left.”

[Bran]: “Evenin' Oranna, Lireen, Befound, an' … human lass, hullo!”

[Oranna]: “That's good ta hear, lass,” she says to Jenzelle. “Yer ah, yer one o' Cobalt, but I dinna know ye by face.” Oranna obediently eats some of the cheese, stretching her fingers out to snag it.

Jenzelle glances down at her tabard and smiles. "Oh, yes, I…I am. My name is Jenzelle."

[Oranna]: “Oh! Jenzelle…Halveris? Aye, the priestess?”

[Jenzelle]: “Yes, that's me!”

[Bran]: “Pleased t'meet ye Jenzelle! I'm Prospector Brannagen Stillwall, better known as Bran.”

[Oranna]: “I'm Oranna, Oranna Stormbreaker. I was the one sending ye the payroll an' requisitions an' such, afore.”

Lireen lifts a hand. "Lireen." She goes back to unbraiding and unpinning.

Bran turns his eyes with interest to the Hair Situation that's going on. Clearly, to him it is as mystifying as some sort of arcane ritual. The state of his own hair supports this theory.

[Jenzelle]: “Oh, well. It's good to meet you all. And, thank you, Oranna.”

[Oranna]: “Oh, ach, no, it was jus'…well, it was me job, fer a bit, that's…that's all, I wasn't…I didn't mean ta imply I was, ah, bankrollin' it or anythin',” she says with a faint flush.

[Bran]: “So yer a priestess too? Er, well, not tha' I'm a priestESS. If the beard didna give it away.”

Oranna looks over at Bran with a warm smile. "My aunt woulda loved ta have had her beard grow out tha' full."

[Jenzelle]: “Can…can lady dwarves…is that possible? To have a beard like that?”

[Oranna]: “Oh aye. Only if we're lucky.”

[Bran]: “Me ma was smooth as a babe, but me grandma had a nice beard goin'.” Brannagen laughs and looks down at his windblown ginger beard. "Lireen, ye might need t'have a go a' me next."

[Lireen]: “Stop flirtin', ye cad, I've sworn off Bronzebeards.”

Oranna almost looks over at Lireen again, but keeps her head steady. "All o' them?"

[Lireen]: “Well, that one fer sure.” She winks at Bran, somehow antagonistically.

[Bran]: “Ach!” Brannagen turns back to Jenzelle. “So how long ye been servin' the Light, lass? And how'd ye come by it?”

Lireen manages to get the last of the pins out, and carefully loosens the whole woven mess, starting at the bottom. GOSH that's a lot of hair.

Oranna laughs good naturedly, almost shaking her head at Lireen, looking back to Jenzelle. "Yer paperwork, if ye dinna mind me sayin', had some bits o' oddities ta it tha', ah, if ye didna wish ta speak of…ye dinna hafta lass," she says gently.

Jenzelle reaches up to her neck, as if to hide something that isn't there. "Oh, that's…a bit of a story…"

[Bran]: “I love stories!”

[Jenzelle]: “Well…do you know what happened in…Lordaeron?”

[Bran]: “Oh aye… I was up there a' the time.”

[Oranna]: “Ye mean fair recently, aye. Th' Scourge.”

It was like seven, eight years ago, but okay.

[Bran]: “When a human asks that question, ye ken guess wha' they mean, aye. Dreadful time, tha'.” Bran is appropriately solemn on the subject, but there's something about his bright blue-green eyes that suggests they're just waiting for another opportunity to sparkle with laughter.

Oranna starts to nod and stops herself again. "Aye. Although, if there's been anythin' new in the past few months, I've missed some of it. At least, well, up close. I heard the reports."

Lireen takes out a large, beautifully hand-carved hairbrush that looks well loved and slightly aged. Much like herself. She begins to work out any tangles in Oranna's thick dark hair, starting at the bottom once again.

[Jenzelle]: “The Scourge. Yes. I definitely meant the Scourge. Sorry. Um, anyway…I was a medic for a while, before someone offered me training in the Light. So I suppose it was pretty recent that I became a priestess.”

[Bran]: “So we came to et about th'same time then! Tha's when I converted, meself.”

Oranna holds still, although she seems to keep wanting to look from Bran to Jenzelle. She eats food from the tray without moving her head, pushing her hair out of the way.

[Bran]: “Once I saw what them elven priests were doin' in the war I said t'meself, Bran, I said, that en't some wishin' an' prayin' goin' on there, tha's real.”

Jenzelle smiles warmly. "The Light has helped me through so much…"

[Oranna]: “Oh, aye. First time I saw a priest workin', felt like a miracle. I'd never seen it afore. We…we didna talk much ta humans, my…my family, afore the second war.”

[Bran]: “Same! I knew there was tradin' goin' on between us but it was all just hearsay; I was holed up with me books.”

Lireen brushes Oranna's hair more than is strictly necessary. Long, soothing strokes.

[Oranna]: “Aye. My brothers worked time ta time with mercenaries, but, I…I didn't. I was…at home.”

[Lireen]: “Ach, jest look a' all this hair… even a' me best I never had the like…”

[Oranna]: “Oh, ach….” Oranna flushes so bright a pink, she might be casting a small glow as she self-consciously pats down more of the hair. “I…I should…well, I dinna cut it an' it's jus' been growin' a spell. Two decades or so.”

[Bran]: “But ye've always been of a healin' sort o' mind then, Miss? Medic even before the Light touched ye? Tha's commendable, et es.”

[Oranna]: “With, ah, yer…I mean, I've known a few of the Light with some kinda barmy ideas o' what…ah…humans are compared ta reg — er, other people.”

Jenzelle reaches for the absent thing around her neck again. "I'm…not like that. I'm trying to learn, I promise."

[Oranna]: “Oh, aye. It's been, ah, jus'…with th'…” Oranna flaps a hand awkwardly. “Um. Th' Scarlet Crusaders an' such, ah, here.”

[Bran]: “Humans do seem t'have a special connection t'the Light, but damn near anyone can wield it if they set their mind right. I'm curious though… as a human… does it feel kinda… natural to ye? Like ye were born to it, or…?”

[Oranna]: “Oh.” Oranna is still very pink and she looks over at Jenzelle with interest. “Is tha' some of it, maybe? Does it?”

Lireen reluctantly stops brushing Oranna's hair and starts in on the braiding and pinning. She lets out a sigh, as though she were putting a happy bird into a cage.

Oranna keeps eating, as promised. It lends an unfortunate sense that she's snacking on something while watching Jenzelle like a show, but her face is all open, honest earnestness and curiosity, without a stare to it.

[Jenzelle]: “Oh, goodness…born to it? I don't know…it feels kind of like it's too good. Too pure for the likes of me. I'm honored that I can call on it.”

[Bran]: “Tha's a real innerestin' comment, tha' is. Er, do ye mind if I write tha' down?” Bran has already pulled out a journal and pen.

[Jenzelle]: “Oh, um. Okay?”

Oranna frowns at that. "Too pure? But…I thought th' Light was, well. It's jus' a thing, isn't it? Like sayin' gravity is too pure."

[Bran]: “Is it all right if I credit ye, or should I just leave it anonymous? I'm doin' a bit of a study, ye see. Yer both right, in a sense, I think. Both ye lasses. From what I've been gatherin'.”

[Jenzelle]: “I-I don't think I'm much of a source, but if it helps…”

[Oranna]: “A study?” Oranna's eyes narrow a little. “Fer th' League? Or fer th'…Church?”

Lireen seems to find braiding much more interesting than the Light.

[Bran]: “Fer me! An' I suppose if it comes t'anythin' I'll share with the League, since they're the only ones seem interested in most o' me ramblin's.”

[Oranna]: “I've only ever been healed by the Light. It's always jus' seemed like…well, like if ye were sinkin' inta a warm bath with a nice bit o' cheese. Nothin'…well, I dinna if ye could call a warm bath holy but…maybe it depends on how long ye havena had one.”

[Bran]: “Okay, so. Yer gonna have t'spell yer name fer me…” He's writing in his little book now. “…too pure… honored tha' I can call…” he mutters in Dwarvish, translating into it.

[Jenzelle]: “It's… J-e-n-z-e-l-l-e…do you need my last name too?”

[Bran]: “Please, aye.”

[Jenzelle]: “H-a-l-v-e-r-i-s.”

Bran dutifully copies that down. “I can tell ye me own theories if yer interested.”

[Lireen]: “Is this a vote? 'Cause I know how I'd vote.”

Bran ignores Lireen.

Lireen and Bran would appear to have a slight friendly mutual annoyance going on.

Oranna still likes them both. A unifying force. “On th' Light? What's th' hypothesis yer tryin' ta prove? or…or disprove?”

[Bran]: “Let's see…. how t'sum up briefly.”

Oranna eats more cheese while trying to get Bran in her field of vision. It makes her look like she's suspiciously side-eyeing him, but again there's nothing on her face but open curiosity.

[Bran]: “Basically et's about the whole idea of good an' holy, an' how it is in an' of itself not unlike an element.”

Lireen makes a pffft sound and keeps braiding. There's a lot to braid.

[Oranna]: “Oh, aye? I remember ye an' were talkin' on it some time ago, th' way some folks seem ta think there's some sort o'…judgment with it. Watchin' their language, for example.”

[Bran]: “Right! But I suspect it dinna work like tha'. Well… except in a sense.”

[Oranna]: “Oh?”

[Bran]: “Okay, so it's like… please stop me if I'm borin' ye.”

Lireen opens her mouth — then shuts it.

Jenzelle listens intently.

[Oranna]: “Tha's a bit like a fortune teller so far, so aye, keep on. It's both?”

[Bran]: “It's like the Light has… two handles. One on each end of it, an' ye can come at it either way. Ye can treat it like any other element… grab onto it by its… nature as a… theng. A force, like gravity or the arcane or the fel. But because of what kind o' theng it es, what element… ye can also attract it by jus'… bein' like it. Bein'… a force o' healin' and mercy an' love. In the same way water flows more easily through a theng tha's already wet.”

Oranna frowns as she follows along. It looks like a thinking frown, but it deepens the furrow in the middle of her brows.

Lireen lifts a hand from Oranna's hair to make a "bla bla bla" hand behind Oranna's head.

[Jenzelle]: “Well, it…is true that I've seen some people use it for…scary things.”

[Oranna]: “So, like a magnet o' somethin'…like metal, where it's either jus' metal, or somethin' ye feel like ye have ta pick up?”

[Bran]: “Aye! An' if it were just some kind o' good but judgy Presence, it wouldna allow tha', right?” Bran nods toward Oranna. "An' some people might have natural… magnetism in them, inborn. Others jus'… use magnets.”

[Oranna]: “It'd be right odd if metal started pickin' an' choosin' what people used it for, aye. Imagine if some just refused ta become a sword or somewhat.”

Bran laughs.

[Jenzelle]: “Goodness. I never thought of it that way.”

[Bran]: “So the Light can be manipulated like any other force, but also… it has a natural flow toward its like, meanin' yes, it will tend t' "bless" those who reflect its qualities. That make any sense?”

[Jenzelle]: “Yes, I think I understand.”

[Bran]: “I reflect a couple of its qualities but not… the whole lot, really, so I do a fair bit o' manipulatin'.”

[Oranna]: “Ye think that's where some folk started thinkin' there was….a…a sort o' purity ta it? Or judgey? Because some o' those who could use more like it naturally, were a certain sort?”

[Bran]: “Exac'ly!” Bran taps his nose and points to Oranna.

Lireen hunts around for a pin she dropped on the floor.

[Jenzelle]: “Does that mean I'm…a natural?”

[Bran]: “I bet ye are! Think o' how ye “were drawn to healin' even before ye started usin' that particular force, aye?

Oranna starts to nod and stops, because braiding. "An' once it started seemin' like it, then if people started makin' rules about it, an' there was still enough magnets…'If I can use then, then than means I'm such-an-such like.' Or fearin' if they weren' like that, then it'd go away again. Self-reinforcin' along th' way.”

Bran beams a smile at Oranna. "Interestin' corollaries to the whole line o' thought aye? Tha's what I love about et."

[Lireen]: “Only forces I care about are wind, weather, an' gravity. Not that ye asked.”

[Bran]: “I gave up on askin' ye questions weeks ago, Cloudskimmer! Never met such an ornery mind.” Bran laughs.

Oranna laughs good naturedly. "Well, aye. I'm afraid it's jus' interestin' thought exercises fer me."

[Lireen]: “I've never been much of a thinker. Mostly thinkin' just gets me inta trouble.”

[Oranna]: “The Light is nice, but I'd think th' same of jus' about any tool someone else migh' be wielding in the field or elsewhere tha' I canna.”

[Jenzelle]: “I'm glad I came here. Ralaea said I shouldn't, because of some gulch close by?”

[Bran]: “Ohhhh, aye, dinna head up that way.”

[Oranna]: “Ralaea…Westwind, aye? She's one o' the forward squad folk. An' aye, that's forbidden.”

[Bran]: “That's clearly some Old God nonsense.”

[Oranna]: “Ben sent around a notice of it.”

[Jenzelle]: “O-Old God?”

[Oranna]: “An Old God?” Oranna starts to turn at that, only stopping after she feels the small resistance to her hair.

[Bran]: “Did ye learn about 'em in yer priest trainin? One o' me favorite subjects. Er… not favorite in the sense o', I want t'have tea with one. But really fascinatin'.”

[Lireen]: “All I know of 'em is that they use elementals sometimes t'do their biddin'.”

[Oranna]: “Elementals?”

[Bran]: “Aye, that's true! There were four Old Gods, y'see, an' each of em controlled an elemental lord! Back in the day, when Azeroth was one big land.”

Oranna can't turn her head but she clearly wants to.

Befound seems uninterested in this. Old Gods, Smold gods. The only goddess anyone should be thinking about is the feline one under the table pretending to take a nap.

[Bran]: “So the stories go, anyhow, an' the evidence supports it t'this day.”

[Jenzelle]: “Azeroth was one land? And…there are four Old Gods? Goodness, I never got any proper schooling. It was all…combat training.”

[Oranna]: “An' tha's what's makin' the land all wrong, then?”

[Bran]: “Well ye can come t'me with any questions abou' hist'ry, I have read every book there is on the subject. Well, Azeroth has a lot o' problems, but Old Gods were maybe the ferst.”

[Jenzelle]: “That must be a lot of books.”

[Oranna]: “Been worried somewhat about what they were sayin' afore, about how th' dig sites here are drawin' attention from things. An' old god would fit that bill, if that's what they've been nudging.”

[Bran]: “Aye, well, I'm a hundred forty three years old, an' I read abou' fifty books a year sooooo. Aye, yer dead on, Oranna. An' talkin' of whispers an' people goin' mad… that's in every story about Old Gods there es.”

Oranna does not look comforted about being right. The distress is obvious on her face as she stuffs half a loaf of a roll into her mouth. "Buff if they're diffing?"

[Bran]: “I would not be diggin' aroun' here, no. Anyway, the good news is there's only three left now, on account o' some huge army killed one of 'em in Silithus a year and change ago.”

Oranna swallows hastily. "If they're digging, an' gettin' corrupted…tha's wha' the old gods do, aye. Whisper an' strange."

[Bran]: “Up until then we didna even know they could be killed! Aye, so… stay away from those areas. No cure is known, once an Old God twists yer mind.”

[Oranna]: “Are we sure it's really, really, really dead?” Oranna doesn't look convinced, as she drinks water.

[Bran]: “Well… nae.”

[Oranna]: “Did th' ones who'd been corrupted when th' god died change after at all? Did anyone, well, I mean…if there were any……..left.”

[Bran]: “Alas no.”

Oranna looks moderately horrified.

[Bran]: “Killin' the god didn't seem t'fix what it did to 'em. But we en't heard a whisper from it since, an' it's been more'n a year.”

Jenzelle frowns herself. "No wonder Ralaea was so concerned…"

[Bran]: “Well whoever Ralaea is, ye'd best listen t'her, Old Gods are a theng to take serious. No bein' exists too powerful t'get driven mad by an Old God. They are more or less Pure Void. So the very opposite of everythin' the Light stands for.”

[Oranna]: “Aye. Ben's caution is right ta be so extreme. I've never seen a single good thing come of th' old gods.”

[Oranna]: “Maybe…then…it'd be better ta no' take a straight ride north,” Oranna says looking up as though she could roll her eyes back to look at Lireen. “We'd want ta go around somehow.”

Lireen nods.

[Jenzelle]: “You said some people killed one? What did it…look like?”

Bran rubs his hands together gleefully, clearly glad Jenzelle asked.

[Oranna]: “I was thinkin' we could just skirt around it, but…maybe…” Oranna mumbles as she tries to think about the logistics of travel.

[Lireen]: “We'll give it a wide berth, an' still get where we're goin', never ye fret.”

[Bran]: “Imagine an EYEBALL the size of a house!”

[Jenzelle]: “The size of a house?!”

[Bran]: “Great big an' purple, with a slit pupil like a cat's!”

[Oranna]: “I wonder if we could go around…on th' water. If someone had a wee row boat or somewhat….” Oranna mutters to herself as she eats several berries, frowning heavily at nothing in particular as she thinks.

Lireen is just staring at Bran, her hands full of Oranna's hair.

[Oranna]: “Jus'…” Oranna glances over at Bran with the deep side-eye. “Jus' the ONE eyeball?”

[Bran]: “Oh if ONLY just the one. I en't finished.”

Oranna makes a sound like yeeshch. "I'm no' sure tha's gonna get any better addin' in more eyeballs or such.”

[Bran]: “Imagine, comin' doon from tha' house-sized purple cat eyeball are tentacles.”

[Oranna]: “The….the tentacles had eyeballs or ….or did th'…eyeballs have tentacles? No, wait wait, wait, no. I…I dinna think I need any of those answered.”

[Bran]: “DOZENS o' tentacles. An' at the end o' some o those… YOOOU GUESSED IT! MORE EYEBALLS!!” Bran is strangely jubilant about all of this.

[Jenzelle]: “T-tentacles? MORE eyeballs? W-why?”

[Bran]: “That is a question fer the ages, lass.” Bran rummages through his bag, then curses in Dwarven. "Drat! Left the book wi' the picture of et in me other bag."

[Jenzelle]: “At least I think we'd know one if we saw it…”

[Lireen]: “That is… that is fine, Bran.”

Oranna has already pictured it. It's too late. She's seeing an eyeball with tentacles with more eyeballs with more tentacles. It's horrible.

[Lireen]: “No need t'go look fer yer other bag. I have a nice clear picture.”

Bran beams!

Oranna also has this clear picture. She clearly wishes she did not. It's going to haunt her…well, actually she sleeps fine, but maybe her thoughts if not her dreams.

[Bran]: “But aye, Miss H-a-l-v-e-r-i-s.” He spells it rather than says it. “Ye would definitely know an Old God if ye saw one. You more than most, perhaps! So lass, once ye channel the Light enough, even if ye dinna also use Void as I sometimes do, Void is so opposite Light tha' ye can feel it in yer ba — er, yer bones when ye run up against it. It will feel like the most not-Light thing ye ever felt in yer life, an' on a scale so huuuuge ye'll know it's a god.”

[Jenzelle]: “Do they all look so horrible? I bet they do. Oh, it's as bad as Ralaea's Mushroom Lord stories…”

[Oranna]: “Mushroom Lord? There's a…there's a Mushroom Lord?” Oranna looks very skeptical about a lord of mushrooms, but also…intrigued.

[Jenzelle]: “No, well…I don't know. I didn't think so. It was a story that went around.”

Oranna raises both brows in a clear indication of interest. "Around here? I've no' actually seen any mushrooms here, come ta think on it. I dinna know if they can grow in this kind o' cold…"

[Bran]: “Ach, no, mushrooms need damp an' warm.”

[Jenzelle]: “Oh, no, back in Lordaeron. There were supposedly some boys who ran off to join a mushroom colony and were never seen again… I'm not even sure it's real, but she seemed to think so.”

[Bran]: “I've heard about some mushrooms with real peculiar properties, but that en't me area of expertise.”

[Oranna]: “Well, aye. I've no'…I've no' read up on mushrooms, but I'd be ye tha' Niris could tell ye one way or another how real that'd be like ta be.”

Lireen finishes rebraiding Oranna's hair and ties it neatly at the end. It's quite a neat braid, and pretty, and was done remarkably fast, considering the volume.

[Oranna]: “She's the Company's Alchemist. Knows jus' about everything about everything ta do with plants o' Azeroth. An', well, it's been a few months so, I'd expect Outland too.”

[Bran]: “I'm tryin' t'learn from her — or I was, 'fore I came up here — but I keep fergettin' t'go fer lessons. We definitely did not get to any mushrooms tha' lead cults.”

[Jenzelle]: “Either way…I probably won't be sleeping here. I thought I'd stop by, since I was on my way to Fort Wildevar to help out there.”

[Oranna]: “Oh, aye, the bulletin?”

[Jenzelle]: “Yeah.”

[Oranna]: “I'd like ta help. I jus…I need ta see ta somethin' first, on th' coast here. But, I figure we could maybe stagger it a bit, fer the helpin'. I'm not much good with the buildin' things. No' a craftswoman, really.”

[Lireen]: “Aye, et's fine, lass.”

Oranna smiles warmly up at Lireen as the braid completes,

Lireen pats her cheek.

Oranna fidgets her braid over her shoulder, patting it.

[Jenzelle]: “Tabiana is, maybe I'll write her and see if she's getting transferred up there soon.”

Oranna frowns in thought. "Tabiana……she's no' one of Cobalt is she? I dinna recognize the name."

[Jenzelle]: “No, she's a friend in the Argent Crusade.”

[Bran]: “Good folks, good folk!”

[Oranna]: “Oh, aye. The Argents are good folk.” Oranna agrees, but she looks a little less sure than she sounds. "They're comin' up then, with the Alliance?"

[Bran]: “Some of 'em need t'loosen up a bit, though.”

[Jenzelle]: “Oh, yes. Of course. Their main target is the Lich King as well, so it makes sense they'd want to push forward with the rest of us.”

[Bran]: “We need every one of Azeroth's best up here righ' now, ye ask me. Glad t'hear the 7th Legion an' even those dead fellas are pitchin' in, though I wish they'd all pull t'gether a bit better.”

[Oranna]: “I'm no' sure how we're all supposed ta even pull together at this rate though. The Alliance has been doin' the thing of putting down the forts fer a longer campaign. Some folk seem ta have gone on ahead. I'm no' military lass.”

[Lireen]: “I'm frankly surprised they're gettin' along as well as they are.”

[Oranna]: “Well, a common enemy does do that fair well.”

[Bran]: “That an' snacks. On that note… are ye done eatin' lass?”

[Lireen]: “BRAN! Dinna rush the lass.”

Oranna laughs, as she slides over the tray. "Aye, I think I'm done, Bran."

Lireen glares at Bran.

Bran beams and grabs some cheese.

Oranna smiles warmly at Bran.

[Bran]: “…Did ye do somethin with yer hair since I walked in…?”

Lireen SIGHS.

[Oranna]: “Oh, ah.” Oranna looks at her braid, and shrugs. "Jus' put it back how it should be like?"

Lireen grabs a handful of berries, and tosses one of them at Bran. It plonks right between his eyes.

Bran blinks. “Oh, aye, 'twas a bit of a fright when I came in. I thought maybe ye were takin' a page from me own stylebook. But now it looks like usual!”

Oranna laughs again, covering her mouth to try to catch the laugh.

[Lireen]: “That was the goal.”

[Oranna]: “Ach, no, it's jus'…aye. Jus' back ta it's usual. It takes a lot ta get it all out an' back again.”

Bran turns toward Jenzelle as though he may be expecting that her hair, also, changed while he looked away.

[Oranna]: “It was real kind o' Lireen ta fix it fer me,” Oranna says, turning her warm beam up to Lireen.

[Bran]: “Ach, ye let Lireen touch yer hair? With those big meaty hands?”

[Lireen]: “Yer about t'catch one of 'em.”

Oranna frowns at Bran. "They're good, sturdy ones, Bran." She smiles back at Lireen. "An' goodness knows my hair needs someone with grip."

[Jenzelle]: “It's really very lovely hair you have, Oranna. I could never grow mine that long.”

[Bran]: “Oh, is there a limit on human hair?” Bran peers at Jenzelle searchingly.

[Oranna]: “Oh, aye, it's…well. I've been growing it out since the Second War. Twenty…three? years now. It was…it was always short afore. My mother..” Oranna looks away to the right, her face paling slightly. “Never allowed it longer.”

[Jenzelle]: “A limit? Oh, I don't think so? I just meant that I don't take care of mine as well as I should.”

[Lireen]: “Mine gets real stringy if I grow it past me shoulders these days, but back when I was o' childbearin' years it was much thicker an' quite pretty. Sorta red-gold.” She gives her head a little toss.

[Bran]: “Well, who has time?” Bran clearly does not have time to uh, comb his.

[Oranna]: “It's a lot, aye. Mine lives in a braid most of the time fer tha' reason. Got ta be real careful when it's down. A tangle can set me up fer an hour or two.”

[Jenzelle]: “Goodness!”

[Lireen]: “If ye ever get one tha's hard t'reach ye let me know. I just love playin' with others' hair.”

[Jenzelle]: “Well, it's lovely all the same.”

Oranna laughs, turning a bright red that almost casts a glow as she looks down. "Oh, ach, thank ye. Bargrimm's been the — " She stops, as sudden grief passes over her face, her cheer falling instantly. "The…he's been…he's the one who's been combing it out."

Lireen pats Oranna gently.

Jenzelle may not understand why, but she does catch the sudden mood shift and murmurs a blessing. "Light, share your Fortitude…"

Oranna blinks at the prayer, but she doesn't seem to have any change at the blessing, as she gives Jenzelle a small smile.

Bran studies Jenzelle, "Ye do seem t'use the Light real natural-like. Hmmm. I hardly notice hair much, but I've seen Oranna's so much I guess I got used t'how it's supposed t'look, an' when I walked in here it was in a bit o' disarray, which struck me as out o' place.”

Oranna tries to recover, sending a wobbly smile over at Bran. "Oh, aye. I look different with it down these days." She swallows hard.

[Bran]: “Yer hair was just as it is right now the day you an' I met Befound, aye? Jus' that sort o' braid?”

[Oranna]: “Aye. Th' same.”

[Lireen]: “I didn't realize ye two knew each other tha' long.” She seems to reconsider Bran, softening slightly toward him.

[Oranna]: “Oh, aye, Bran was one o' the folks I met when I started livin' in Ironforge.”

Befound purrs loudly at Bran, stretching out a clawed front paw. Maybe playfully.

Bran eyes Befound suspiciously. "I know yer tricks, lassie."

Befound just slow blinks at Bran, turning over slightly, almost exposing her stomach. It's not a trap.

It's totally a trap.

[Bran]: “Yer just waitin' t'remind me yer an apex predator. I am too smart fer yer soft, warm belly trap.”

Befound purrs louder. It sounds like the inn might be almost under attack from a motor.

[Lireen]: “Ach, sounds like an earthquake…”

Oranna stretches out a boot to Befound's paw. "Oh, lass, hush. Ye'll scare th' innkeeper again."

Befound takes it down only one (1) notch.

[Oranna]: “Dinna pay her any mind, Jenzelle. She's no' a house cat, no matter what she likes ta pretend at.”

[Jenzelle]: “Yes, I…she's rather big, isn't she?”

[Oranna]: “Oh, aye. She's full grown now. When ye met her, Bran, she was still jus' an adolescent. Teenager, really. She's as big as she'll get now though, lass, dinna worry.”

[Bran]: “So it's not me imagination she's gotten bigger? Or I haven't shrunk. So Miss H, ye said yer headed t'Fort Wildevar soonish?” Bran peers at Jenzelle searchingly.

[Jenzelle]: “Yes, Fort Wildevar.”

[Bran]: “I saw the notice, but I may be delayed meself, as I've got t'make sure we don't lose any more Explorers to their own Void-blasted shortsightedness. The survival rate for the Explorers' League up here has been dismal I tell ye. DISMAL.”

Oranna's expression grows serious and pinched at the mention of the League. "Oh, aye, the way they've been tossin' folk inta things out here, of course it's been DISMAL."

[Jenzelle]: “I've heard some things about that…I hope you can keep them safe, Mister Bran.”

[Bran]: “Now tha' is not how I run a dig site, but no one asked me. Tha' mess was already done when I go' here. I'll straighten 'em out. I hope.”

Oranna's voice is almost vicious for her. "They'll need ta be keepin' themselves safe, aye! Like a fever they have, no sense of priorities in th' right place. Ye get them ta see better then, Bran."

[Bran]: “I will, dear heart, dinna worry.”

[Oranna]: “It's like they've forgotten they're sending people ta these places an' not jus' earthen or machines.”

[Bran]: “I can be right stern when I need t'be.”

Oranna nods, equally sternly.

Lireen has returned to her default state of serenity, having apparently decided she is no longer annoyed by Bran. “Ye refreshed now lass? About ready t'head back out?”

[Bran]: “Oh, where ye goin'?”

Oranna nods. "I should…I should maybe go see about…if there's someone who knows another route up north. Um. North. We're headed up north."

[Bran]: “What fer?”

[Lireen]: “Fer our own affairs, Stillwall.” But she says it serenely, this time.

[Oranna]: “There's some pull of wreckage up that way tha' might be where…currents…would take someone. If they…” Oranna's breathing speeds up like she's approaching panic. “If they fell overboard on a ship.”

[Lireen]: “It's not his concern, lass.” She pets Oranna soothingly.

[Oranna]: “An'…an' needed ta surface somewhere. So that's…if that's where…my…Bargrimm. If that's what happened ta Bargrimm. It's…it's fine. He knows me, an' they…they met afore.”

Bran folds his arms. He seems like a man who thinks everything is his concern. Bran nods at Oranna's clarification.

[Lireen]: “Well all righ' dear. I just hate t'see ye upset.”

[Jenzelle]: “Oh, goodness… I do hope everything's okay. If you ever should need any help, I would be more than willing.”

Oranna fidgets with her hands in her lap before she stands, almost abruptly. "I should go ask. It's…it's fine. I'm fin…" She's obviously not fine. "I'm gonna be fine. Jus'…should go an'…do some askin'. Thank ye, lass. I'll uh. If there's…well.”

[Lireen]: “Ye want me to come with? Or do ye need a minute on yer own?”

Bran studies Oranna.

Oranna waves awkwardly at Bran and Jenzelle. "Oh, if ye'd like ta, it's…we can jus' go ask. It was, uh, nice meetin' ye in person, Jenzelle. Um. Light go? be? with ye?"

Bran murmurs quietly to Jenzelle.

Jenzelle nods at Brannagen. “It was lovely meeting you both…”

Oranna walks off blinking a little too rapidly.

Jenzelle frowns after her in concern.