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| Details |
| Author: | Luridel |
| Summary: | Warden Shaldira Oceansong seeks help for her sister, Commander Fyrdriel Oceansong, and finds an available priest willing to speak with her: Mordecai Aspenwood. ~2700 words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Arc: Wrathgate
Two night elf women walk across Wintergarde Keep. One is dressed in liveried Sentinel armor and the other in a Warden's plate. The Warden scans the comings and goings of the place as if she's looking for someone, but the Sentinel looks preoccupied and is barely aware of her surroundings. She holds onto the Warden's arm and follows her lead.
A young human man in white and gold priest robes stands by the mailbox outside the inn. As he feeds multiple letters to it, a wind catches the hood of his cloak and blows it back, exposing curly ginger hair. As Mordecai turns away from the inn to start walking back along the path, he makes the mistake of making eye contact.
The Warden flags him down and waves, "Excuse me. Priest. May I speak with you for a moment?" She starts walking quickly towards him with the Sentinel in tow.
Mordecai freezes in place for a moment before standing up a little straighter. "Yes, of course." He clasps his gloved hands in front of him, looking up. "How can I help you?"
"I hear that there is a human priest here that is offering counseling to those who need it. Would you be him." Her eyes shine at him from behind her helmet. Fyrdriel stands absently at her sister's side, looking off in the distance at nothing in particular.
Mordecai nods. "I don't know if I'm the only such one, but yes. I'm Chaplain Mordecai Aspenwood." He looks between the two of them.
The Warden nods, "Warden Shaldira Oceansong. A pleasure. And this is my sister, Commander Fyrdriel Oceansong." Fyrdriel turns her attention to Mordecai and nods, "She has been rather troubled as of late, so I have recommended her to speak to someone about it."
Mordecai nods. "It's nice to meet you. It's been a very troubling time for many here. I'd be happy to hear what troubles you, if you would care to discuss it with someone you don't know very well." He indicates himself with a hand pressed to his chest. That's him, he's the stranger.
"I've tried speaking with her about it myself, but I'm afraid that it's been millennia since I was a proper priestess." Shaldira nudges Fyrdriel forward, "And the subject is a bit sensitive for me as well…" Her voice catches a little, "I believe it may be easier to hear what she needs to from someone she does not know."
Mordecai nods. "Commander Fyrdriel?" he asks gently. "Is that all right with you?"
"Shai…" Fyrdirel responds in Darnassian.
Shaldira tugs on Fyrdriel's arm and whispers something else in Darnassian, seemingly chiding her for not speaking to Mordecai in common.
Fyrdriel sighs and finally meets Mordecai's gaze. Her eyes are tired and dim, "Thank you for your time, Chaplain."
"Of course." Mordecai smiles faintly at her. "Where would you like to speak…?"
"We can speak in my office." Fyrdriel turns to Shaldira and embraces her. The Warden squeezes back and stands there for a moment before giving her a few more words of encouragement and letting go. Fyrdriel takes a deep breath and addresses Mordecai once again, "Come." She motions to him with her head and starts walking.
Mordecai nods to Shaldira. "En'shu falah nah," he says politely to her. His accent isn't bad; he's clearly had practice. He follows after Fyrdriel, trailing slightly behind and to her left.
"Ande'thoras ethil." Shaldira bows and takes her leave.
Fyrdriel keeps a brisk pace and remains quiet while she walks towards the tent where her office is.
Mordecai pulls his hood back up.
Two steps later, the wind blows it down again, and he just gives up on that. He does not fall any further behind.
Before long, the two arrive at her tent. Fyrdriel holds open the flap for him, "After you." She motions inside.
"Thank you," Mordecai says quietly, and ducks inside first.
Upon entering Mordecai is greeted by a relatively spacious room filled with bows, arrows, glaives, and other various weapons as well as a mistsaber who raises up her head to look at him. Fyrdriel follows shortly after Mordecai, "Down girl. He's a friend." The saber lowers her head again and returns to her nap.
"Hello," Mordecai says politely to the mistsaber. He looks for somewhere to sit that is not within biting range.
Fyrdriel makes her way over to her desk and slumps down into her seat. She motions in front of her to the chair in front of the desk.
Mordecai moves the chair out just barely enough for him to slide in and sit down. "Is there something you would prefer I call you?"
"Simply Fyrdriel will do for the time being." She leans back in her seat and props up her head with one hand, "I did not call you here as your superior."
Mordecai nods. "Mordecai is fine, then, if you'd like. Everything you tell me here shall be kept in confidence, unless you say otherwise. Your sister seemed worried about you. Would you tell me why?"
“Yes, please. I don’t need my worries getting back to my sisters and demoralizing them.” She sighs, “Shaldira has been worried about me for a few years now. It’s just that now I… things have… this has been a very trying time for me…” She struggles to find the right words.
Mordecai goes, "Mm," to let her know he's listening, but he seems like he's going to give her a little bit longer to formulate her thoughts on her own before he starts asking prompting questions.
“I… It feels as though my life is slipping through my fingers.” She brings up her hands and looks at them, “And there’s nothing I can do to stop it. It has been so long since I last felt so… powerless…”
Mordecai nods. "Have you felt this way for several years, or is this more recent than that?"
Fyrdriel nods, “It’s been a few years, yes. Ever since Hyjal.”
"Ah." Mordecai nods. "Might I ask how old you are? Approximately."
She thinks about it for a minute, “About… ten thousand eight hundred or so.”
Mordecai blinks several times. Right, yes, elves can be old. He nods. "I suppose I have a human's perspective on aging. And I'm young, among humans. I'm twenty-six."
Fyrdriel smiles a little like as she might to a child, "Well in this case perhaps a human perspective could help. I… did not think I would ever encounter this problem…"
"Do you feel like you're running out of time to accomplish something in particular?" Mordecai asks.
Fyrdriel nods again. Her eyes go distant and she gets a grave look in her face, "I… I wanted to have a child…"
"Ah." Mordecai's expression goes serious. "I don't want to assume anything, but if you're comfortable telling me… why did you not have one?"
Fyrdriel sighs in exasperation, "I tried! For so long…" She puts her head in her hands and does her best to keep it together, "We Kaldorei are not like you mortals er…" She catches herself, "We… our bodies are not so fertile as yours. Having a child is a gift bestowed upon someone by Elune."
"I understand," Mordecai says. "A rare miracle among your people. And now… you speak as if it is no longer possible?"
"I had been trying for ten thousand years!" Her eyes well up a little but she maintains her composure for now, "In all that time the goddess never saw fit to bless me. Why would she now? And besides…" she trails off and doesn't finish.
Mordecai's expression is soft. He gives her a moment before prompting, "And besides?"
She takes in a shaky breath, "My mate… was slain at the Wrathgate…"
"I am so sorry for your loss," Mordecai says. It's a very common phrase, but Mordecai genuinely sounds as though he really means it.
Fyrdriel scoffs and shakes her head, "That's all? All you have to offer me? Your condolences?" she asks with tears now streaming down her face.
Mordecai shakes his head and reaches into his bag. "I cannot return your mate to you. I am trained in the in-the-field cleansing rites and prayers, when no moonwell is accessible, and I know some of the mourning songs. I am no priest of Elune, but I have sung for Her people before when none of Her clergy were at hand. If this would bring you any consolation or closure, I would be happy to do so. But I cannot solve your loss, Fyrdriel."
She wipes her eyes, "I know… I just… He was everything to me… Without him I would have lost my sister during the War of the Ancients and now he's… gone…" The tears keep coming, "Just like that. The millennia we spent together wiped out."
Mordecai finds what he's looking for. It is not a handkerchief. It is actually a bottle of conjured water, made by his sister-in-law earlier in the day. He sets it down on the desk in front of her.
“Do you understand me?” She pleads with him, “I felt him dying… Before I even heard the news I could feel that he was gone… that he still is.” She sobs.
"I understand." Mordecai's expression is soft. "I am sure you have experienced loss many times over, with your age and experience, but this is something even more devastating than that, isn't it? The loss of your shalan?"
Fyrdriel nods through her tears, "It's as if a part of me died along with him. How can I keep going as half a woman? How can I be anyone to those I want to care for?"
"One day at a time," Mordecai says quietly. "Find what is left." He looks down at his hands. "Mourn his loss, but remember and celebrate what he brought to your life. The millennia you spent together - cut short too soon, perhaps, but still important. Not gone."
Fyrdriel sniffles and tries to take in what he said, "H-he always supported me when I tried to take this young orphan girl under my wing… Since we had no child of our own and he knew how worried I became after the Third War."
Mordecai nods. Now he finally digs out a handkerchief and offers it out to her. "You have an adopted daughter?"
Fyrdriel raises a hand to say she doesn't need the handkerchief and simply wipes her eyes on her sleeve, "Not exactly no. I… like to think of her as a daughter, but… I don't know. I was familiar with her mother, and she was cut from a different cloth than I. I could never replace her."
Mordecai tucks the handkerchief away. "I see. I… don't know if it's something you're in the right place for right now, mentally or logistically, but… there are always children in need of homes and loving parents. If you wanted to look towards the future… one day, perhaps?" He shakes his head. "For now, you have family to lean on. You were worried about demoralizing your sisters, you said?"
Fyrdriel takes a big swig of the water, "If not now then when?!" she snaps, "The poor girl… I don't know what to do for her anymore. I've tried giving her purpose and responsibility, but it's no use!" She runs her hands through her hair, "None of it seems to do her any good."
Mordecai cannot suppress the flinch at her tone this time. He shrinks back a little in his chair for a moment before sitting up a little straighter. "Parenting advice is a little out of my area of expertise," he says apologetically. "Is she also kaldorei? How old is she?"
Fyrdriel gives Mordecai an apologetic look when she sees him flinch, "She is. She was just a little girl when I first took her under my wing but she's about two hundred by now. It's a bit of a long story, but that's not important right now. Either way, she's still very young."
Mordecai mouths 'two hundred' silently to himself. He waits to see if Fyrdriel has more to say.
"Well what more do you want me to say?" She asks, "I feel like I've tried everything. I've given her a command, special assignments, even practically forced her to leave some damned leave for once when I thought she needed it, but it's like it's only made things worse!"
Mordecai asks carefully, "Are you looking for advice in this situation or do you just want to talk about it to someone who will listen?"
Fyrdriel buries her head in her hands again, “I’m not sure… I just wish I knew what to do…” she sniffles and looks back up, “It’s as though news of the Wrathgate struck her harder than even I, then she ran off and now Forsaken alchemists have been mysteriously disappearing and I don’t have the stomach to tell her to stop… I want to watch as all those worms rot.” She growls.
"I doubt she's alone in that particular hunt." Mordecai frowns slightly. "Did she abandon her post?"
"Officially? No. Thus far I have explained her absence by saying I sent her out to gather reconnaissance after the incident." Fyrdriel throws her head back and closes her eyes, "But should I just let her have free reign? I know she is smart enough to not cause an incident, but still…"
"What of the soldiers under her command? She left them and went out alone?"
"She commands a joint company with a group of highborne. Her regiment does not want for capable command in her absence."
Mordecai nods. "I see. I don't think I'm qualified to give you advice on this particular situation, Fyrdriel. Is there someone - another kaldorei, a parent, perhaps, that you would feel comfortable discussing this with? I could help you find someone, if you need."
Fyrdriel groans and shakes her head, "My parents died in the Sundering. Normally I would have confided in my mate, but…" She swallows and manages to keep a brave face for now, "Can't you see this is why Shaldira made me come to you?" she reaches her hands out across the table, "I don't know who to turn to anymore!"
Mordecai nods and sets his hands down on the desk. "A friend of mine, Caspis Silvershade, is father to a young daughter - and his shalan, Anareline Evensong, I know she has two children grown. They are both kind people. Anareline in particular might be able to offer you some advice, I think."
Fyrdriel sighs and looks off to the side, "Perhaps…"
"I could ask if she would be willing to speak to you, if you'd like." Mordecai smiles faintly. "She's in Northrend, she would not be difficult for me to reach."
Fyrdriel closes her eyes and remains still for a minute, "Do it."
Mordecai nods. "I'll write to her today. Now, even, if you don't mind me borrowing your desk to write on. How much information are you comfortable with me disclosing to her?"
"Just leave out any details concerning the military."
Mordecai nods. "Of course." He removes a clipboard and pencil from his bag. Maybe having the desk to write on wasn't necessary, but he does still seem to appreciate it. "I intend to give her your name and rank, if that is all right, and tell her that you are seeking advice in regards to someone you consider almost like a daughter to you. Is that all right?"
"Yes. That's fine."
Mordecai nods. He takes a few minutes drafting up the letter, reads it over, and nods again. "Is there anything else you would like to speak to me about before I go and mail this?"
“You may go.” Fyrdriel waves a hand. The saber on the floor gets up and sets her head in Fyrdriel’s lap. Fyrdriel pulls the cat closer and starts stroking under her chin.
Mordecai nods and stands, putting his clipboard away for the time being. He leaves the bottle of water on the desk - that may have been a gift. "Ande'thoras ethil," he says politely, his accent decent but not perfect, and makes his exit from the tent.