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| Details |
| Author: | Alli |
| Summary: | A week or so after Voldrune, Syarra seeks out an Argent Crusader she knows, Tabiana. Bad news is shared, as is family history. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
A lone figure approaches the small Argent Crusade camp of Light's Breach, nestled in the ruins of Drakkari stonework in Zul'drak. The dark saronite armor marks her as a death knight, but she's taken steps to ensure she's perceived as a visitor, not an attacker. She's on foot, with no sign of any deathly charger, and her runeblade is in its sheath. She isn't wearing her helm, so it's clear that she's a dark-haired sin'dorei woman, though it is still just as clear from the pallor that she's not alive. Finally, she wears an Ebon Blade tabard over her breastplate, her arms at her sides to keep it clearly visible.
Still, she pauses beyond the edge of the camp, not attempting to trespass into the area of tents and campfires and camaraderie. Her eyes scan the perimeter, looking for whoever is keeping the sentry post.
The sentry, a young man with dark hair, gives a start when he realizes suddenly he's looking at a death knight. He glances nervously behind him, but he doesn't reach for any weapons. For a moment he simply stares at her, but her apparent lack of hostility allows him time to recover his nerve.
"Um," he calls. "Are you…Ebon Blade? Can… Can I help you with something?"
"Yes, I'm Ebon Blade," Syarra answers calmly, at a volume to make absolutely certain there's no confusion on this point. "I'm looking for someone's… next of kin. May I enter your camp?"
The sentry seems to have an internal debate, before giving her a nod. "If you are Ebon Blade, then…we've got a truce, so it should be fine. Just, um. Maybe don't reach for your weapon at any point?"
"We are allies, so I should not have a need, unless the camp is attacked," Syarra says, staring at him with a flat expression. Then she walks into the camp, making certain to pass a few paces away from the sentry, not to spook him by proximity. Then she pauses, turning to face him again, and adds, "Just in case, do you know anyone by the name of Taya?"
"Taya…" the sentry pauses to think. "I don't think so, but, do you know her last name? O-oh, and…in the interest of being allies, my name's Jorin Henderson. What's…yours?" He makes an obvious effort to keep his own hands clear of his weapons.
"I never got her last name," Syarra shakes her head. "That's the… deceased. I was looking for her sister, and I don't know that name either. I'm Syarra Sunstrike." Syarra scans over the camp as she speaks, looking for any familiar faces.
"That's going to be a bit difficult," Jorin says, following her gaze. "But if her sister's Argent, maybe someone will recognize it."
Just within the edges of the camp, Tabiana is seated, sorting through her bags and checking her supplies. She may be preparing to head out again. She is definitely out of earshot, and hasn't even noticed Syarra yet.
Syarra's gaze freezes on Tabiana, and she stops in her tracks. She turns back to Jorin.
"Maybe someone will," Syarra nods, her expression as animated as a mannequin's. "May I speak to some of the people here, Jorin? I see at least one person I know."
Jorin glances between Tabiana and Syarra, then does a double take. "Her?" he asks. "You know her? Uh, yeah, just. Be gentle. Her Lord was one of us, but I heard he died and came back as a…" He suddenly remembers who he's talking to. "She hasn't been the same since, is all."
"I didn't know her before that," Syarra says, raising one hand in a kind of armored shrug. "So I wouldn't be able to see the difference. And I know her Lord as well, but in the same way. Only in the after. I'll try to be…" Syarra frowns slightly, considering her words, "…better to her than last time. Thank you, Jorin."
Syarra turns and heads in Tabiana's direction, making no effort towards hiding her approach.
Tabiana hears her approach and glances up from her bag. There is recognition in her gaze, but not surprise. "Are you here to help, or is there another reason?" she asks, sliding a brush out of her bag and letting loose her hair.
"Perhaps both," Syarra says, stopping several paces away. She falls still, looking down at Tabiana. "It's been a year, and I've kept the truce. Ralaea Westwind has been safe. Is there… something you need help with, beyond the general and obvious?"
"The obvious will do." Tabiana's expression remains unreadable, but complex emotions mix beneath the surface, almost audible in her pause. "Do you know… how he's doing? Mourn, or whatever he calls himself now." She slowly drags the brush through her hair, smoothing away the traces of sleep and combat, and riding.
"I haven't seen him recently," Syarra says, moving a step closer, her gaze fixed on Tabiana's face. "The last I've heard, he must be well enough. He and Ralaea seem to have reconciled, and they're likely in Stormwind together. I call him Mourn, but… part of who he was, I assure you that it's still there. Only part, though. We are none of us whole."
"If he's whole enough that Ralaea can stand him, he must be doing well enough," Tabiana murmurs. "Thank you. I doubt you have come all this way to prove yourself to me. What else brings you here?" Her green eyes peer up at Syarra with curiosity.
"I am helping in Zul'drak, of course," Syarra says, moving to sit next to Tabiana. "But my coming here proves nothing to you. Only time and loyalty can do that, though I hope that the past year makes a good start. We were all learning to cope, back then. Most of us have either learned how or have already failed by now." She settles on the frosty ground and continues, "As for the other reason, I'm looking for someone. I don't have much to go on, but there's a person who has kin among the Argent Crusade."
"You do look less…hollow, than you did then," Tabiana agrees. "What can you tell me about the person you are searching for? I will help if I can."
"The information I have is only about this Argent Crusade person's sister," Syarra says, turning toward Tabiana. "A woman with short dark hair. Her name is Taya."
The reaction is only visible in Tabiana's eyes. She finishes brushing her hair in silence, before returning the brush to her bag. "Where did you hear that name?"
Syarra sits patiently, a subtle lowering of her brow the only indication she noticed anything in Tabiana. "Is it familiar to you? I have news of her that I thought I would bring to her family, if I could."
Tabiana sighs deeply, running a hand across her face. She looks tired, suddenly. "There's only one piece of news you could possibly be bringing," she says. "Taya died. I heard about that from Jenzelle. Which means you're about to tell me that my sister is a death knight." Her voice is laced with pain.
Syarra's careful posture loosens, her expression softening in a way that might read as sympathy if it weren't for the obvious hunger in her eyes.
"I…" Syarra stops and swallows once, carefully clasping her armored hands together. "I didn't know it was you. I'm not doing this on purpose."
Tabiana takes a moment to compose herself, her mask of calm returning. The pain remains, a dim echo in the background. "I believe you," she says at last. "So. Which side is she on?"
"Not ours," Syarra says with a faint shiver, her gaze intent and focused on Tabiana. "I should tell you that we mean to end her. We… the Ebon Blade, but also the others. Your colleagues."
"She always was a rebel. Alright." Tabiana checks her sword in its sheath. "Well if it takes any pressure off, you can leave that to me. And before you object, I am not Ralaea, and do not plan on charging off alone. It's only that… The last time we spoke, she and I, it did not…end well. She will probably come to me."
"Pressure is not a concern for me," Syarra says, taking in a deliberate breath and closing her eyes. When she opens them, she looks a little more composed as well. "I haven't spoken to her myself - I've only seen her at a distance. Vond Satterly and Etone Greennote fought her, if you want to know more what to expect when you eventually face her. Can I ask… what makes you think she'll come to you?"
"She will come, because I failed." Tabiana ties her hair back into a tail. "For you to truly understand, I would need to go into a bit of history, but the condensed version is, I failed to keep Lord Harvey Morningdew alive, and she will come to gloat."
"I would like to understand," Syarra drops her gaze to her clasped hands. "I sought out my sister as well, after I found out she was still alive. It was not to gloat, but… it still did not go well. She's with the Argent Crusade now. If you're willing to tell me, I would like to listen."
"I have no reason not to tell you," Tabiana says with a shrug. "To the beginning, then. The Lynds family line is one that has always served and protected House Morningdew. We were proud to be their shield. Normally, whenever a Morningdew child was born, a Lynds child would follow, and the two would be paired for life. But… Lord Harvey's mother was…weak, in that regard, and I was born without a counterpart. It was actually my sister, Taya, who was born closer. The honor should have been hers."
Syarra listens attentively. At the pause in the story, she says, "I see… I know little of human fertility, but I have known women of my own kind who struggled to conceive. So the younger child was assigned to you, and your sister was the one left over?"
"There was more to it. Both of us trained, even from a young age. Our parents decided that, even if one was to be without a counterpart, the other could still honor our name as a guard for some other important work. We had all expected that Taya would be for House Morningdew, as it had always been. But," Tabiana glanced towards the sky. "As the years went on, Taya…stopped growing. People started calling her the Runt of the Lynds. And when the day came for the partnership to be declared, we were lined up to demonstrate our ability. That day, Lord Harvey's father chose me. Taya…did not take it well."
"Stopped… physically growing?" Syarra asks, puzzled. "She did seem short, but is that a serious problem among your people? I suppose if it were based on ability… but if it was anything like my home, my memory tells me that contests of these kind are rarely tests of pure merit. I assume she must have seen it that way as well?"
"We are to be the shield to our lords," Tabiana says. "I cannot speak for Lord Morningdew, only guess at his thoughts. Taya looked small and weak. How could she shield a man twice her size? And yes, I was more capable, but I was six years older. Given the time, I am certain our ability would have been a closer match. After that, Taya chose a different path. She abandoned our parents' ideas of becoming a guard and started to turn to mischief. Our…final conversation was just before Lordaeron fell. We both behaved immaturely, but… she told me she would prove she was the one to protect Lord Harvey, however she had to do it. I never saw her again, after."
"Mm," Syarra sits in silence for a moment, thinking. "Do you think she would still seek to prove it to you now, with Mourn as he is?"
"A contest of might, perhaps. Anything further, I cannot guess," Tabiana replies. "I heard some few stories from Jenzelle. It seems while she was alive, Kaela Mondragon brought out Taya's skills as a scout. I am grateful to her, for that. For giving her purpose. The truth is, I… When I was chosen by Lord Morningdew, I was…relieved." She smiles bitterly. "I must be a terrible sister."
"I don't think it is un-sisterly to be proud of doing well, of being chosen," Syarra says, meeting her eyes. "Though perhaps you would not trust my word on that. It was the opposite, with my little sister. She always took up more space, more attention. She was often chosen when I was not. But still… I never turned away from her. Maybe the flaw was in Taya, whatever it was that made her unable to live in the shadow you cast."
"Everyone involved shares blame for how things turned out." Tabiana's voice is firm, almost protective. "Our family, and myself included. When you are raised to do something, to be someone, having that suddenly taken away from you is…" She pauses, making eye contact with Syarra. "A little like becoming a death knight, isn't it? Perhaps I can understand that much about your situation, though I know there is far more to it, for you."
"What I lost… is more than a position," Syarra says quietly, as if in thought. "But then, the same is true for her now. I would advise you not to rely on her having the same reactions, same impulses, as she did before. There might be… surprises. Still, if this contest was so central to her identity - either it will have been wiped out deliberately or it will linger. It depends, perhaps, on whether it could be used to motivate violence and cruelty. It sounds as though it could."
"If you find her first, I will not ask you to spare her for me," Tabiana says, looking away again. "This is war. I understand that much. But I suspect that she will come for me. Death knights…find pleasure in suffering, after all. If you have any advice for survival, I would hear it."
Syarra slowly loosens her clasped hands, and if her attention is still a little too fixed on Tabiana, maybe that's only to be expected in the circumstances. After a short stretch of silence, she offers, "Physically, she'll be stronger than you now. Be prepared for that, as it might change how she engages. And don't let her drag things out. She'll want to. It's to her advantage. You'll suffer, she'll enjoy it. You'll tire, she won't. The faster you can end it, the better for you. I could go over specific abilities she might use, but… that's the core of it." Syarra pauses, and then adds, with a touch of reluctance, "The suffering, it's a need, not a want. It can be both, but… if she were on our side, I would have different advice."
Tabiana takes a moment to absorb the information, then gets to her feet and brushes herself off. "Quick and decisive is not my strong point, but I will keep it in mind. Your Hunger is something inflicted on you by the Lich King to encourage obedience. You are not his anymore, so I will not take it personally." She offers a hand to Syarra. A handshake? A hand up? It could be either, or both.
Syarra hesitates for only a moment before taking it carefully and rising to her feet. "One other thing." She seems uncertain if she's meant to shake Tabiana's hand, so she simply releases it. "If you make survival your goal, that can be a trap. If things go very poorly, a skilled death knight will use that desire to control you. I'm not sure how to advise you to avoid it. My solution had… mixed results."
"I will give it some thought." Tabiana shoulders her pack. "For what it's worth, I hope your kind is able to find a new purpose, once this war is won. And not only for the sake of the living. No one deserves what you are forced to endure, and the road will always be a difficult one."
"We'll endure," Syarra says, taking a step back. "And we won't be the only ones seeking a new purpose. Take care, Tabiana."