(2023-11-10) A Little More Ambitious Now

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Author:	inkie
Summary:	Ladies Sintha Fallon and Dara Tennerow catch one another up on recent events in their lives.
Rating:	T for Teen

On the little stone terrace outside an upscale cafe in Stormwind's Park, Sintha Fallon sits alone at a table doing her homework. It certainly looks like she's doing homework, at least. She is dressed for the autumn weather in a trim tweed blazer over a dark turtleneck sweater, her hair pulled back in a neat chignon, and she is focused on a pair of open notebooks and a spread of schematics and papers around her. A cup of coffee has grown cold by her elbow.

Dara Tennerow walks by the cafe, an unusually pensive expression on her face, a little at odds with her slightly-flirty business dress in seasonal bronze and her carefully curled dark hair. She very nearly passes the table without noticing, but then stops and turns toward the busy Sintha. "Lady Sintha, I had not expected to run into you here," Dara says, ducking her head in a suggestion of a curtsey.

Sintha glances up, blinking big amber eyes; her air of distracted gravity is utterly unlike Socialite Sintha. But then she blinks again and voila: the air-kissing champ is back in the ring. "Lady Dara!" she cries delightedly, and springs to her feet. "Oh, gosh, darling, hasn't it been ages and ages? What have you been doing? Sit, oh, gosh, sit, will you have a coffee? Pastry? May I get you something?"

"Oh, I would not turn down a pastry," Dara giggles. "I would be happy to join you while you… what are you doing exactly?"

"Oh, this? This is hardly anything, just a little — here, do you like apricot? They do these things with an apricot filling that are just, gosh, or the tiniest butter cookies with raspberry jam and — here, sit down darling, gosh." As she effuses, Sintha flips both notebooks swiftly shut, stacks them and slides them to one side, and begins folding up schematics. A kaldorei waitress has emerged from the cafe and is gliding toward them.

Dara happily takes a seat, her gaze following the schematics curiously. However, what she says is, "Apricot? That sounds positively lovely, I'll have one of those." She nods at the approaching waitress, who accurately takes that as an order and heads back into the cafe. Settling her skirts, she continues to Sintha, "I've been terribly busy being a priestess, it is quite physically demanding in ways."

"Is it? I would not have expected that. For a priest of the Light? How funny!" Sintha settles again as well, arranging the folded schematics carefully atop the notebooks and then picking up her coffee cup. "What do you get up to, anyway, as a Light-priest? Are you still keeping company with Dame Sophiette?"

"Mm, yes, that's part of it. Sophiette is helping me build my stamina," Dara's cheeks color just faintly as she quickly amends, "It turns out that being a Light priestess in the field involves an awful lot of travel, on foot and on horseback, and we've been working out together so that I can keep up. Of course, as a paladin, she's just amazingly strong."

"Do you know, I was going to say you look rather blooming." Sintha pauses innocently, sips cold coffee, and then clarifies, "In a fitnessy, outdoorsy sort of way. And I wouldn't have guessed about the travel! I thought mostly they hung about at the Cathedral or the Abbey or what-have-you. How is Dame Sophiette? Apart from strong."

"I think she's doing well, considering everything. You know, the Third War being not so terribly long ago, and her father lost in Northrend," Dara sits back in her chair. "We're going to join the Argent Crusade eventually. At any rate, that's Sophiette's plan, and I'm hoping I can catch up. We'll need to have some heroic deeds by the time we apply, and so we're working on that now."

"The Argent Crusade, gosh! What does Lord Tennerow think of all of it?" Sintha looks round-eyed.

"Oh, I… may not have told him that part exactly," Dara grimaces, glancing toward the door to see if her pastry is coming soon. "As far as he knows, I've been spending time with an old friend and studying the Light. You know Devon, he gets a little protective sometimes. I wouldn't want to make him worry."

"Oh, gosh, well I know how that is. Shay practically threw me out of the house, if only that wouldn't have rendered his temper a touch hypocritical. Brothers." Sintha rolls her eyes. The waitress approaches, bearing a plate of oranais aux abricots except whatever they're called in Azeroth. This is more than the one Dara ordered, but perhaps the waitress is well-acquainted with Sintha, because sure enough, as soon as she sets the plate on the table, Sintha reaches for one herself. "And a fresh coffee, please," she tells the waitress, sounding a little apologetic.

Dara grabs one as well and takes a little nibble, but doesn't add to the coffee order. "That would rather defeat the purpose, if the goal is to keep a little sister safe. And at any rate, he's at least used to thinking of me as safe with the Valonforths — we've a long history. He might feel differently if I started talking about caves full of cultists, so I do hope you won't bring those sorts of things up if speak with him. I'll return the favor if I happen across the Vice Admiral."

"Caves full of cultists?" Sintha's eyes widen again in best gosh fashion, but something in her manner has sharpened slightly, is a little more alert and less breathless. "Darling, do tell."

"Oh, it all sort of followed from the ghoul attack at the…" Dara trails off and looks apologetically at Sintha. "I'm getting ahead of myself — I really must start at the beginning. Did you hear about what that murderous death knight did?"

Sintha makes a disapproving moue. "The allegedly murderous death knight, darling. Shay has rather rallied to that miserable cause, as it happens — paying for the lawyer, and whatnot — so yes, I have heard all about it."

Dara blinks, dropping her pastry back on the tray. "Your brother is paying Win… Lady Alwynneria to defend the death knight? Whyever would he do that?”

"Because he is as stubborn as a bloody oyster, and legal citizenship for death knights happens to be the political cause he chained himself to mere moments before the murders, as it happens." Sintha picks a pastry apart into vicious crumbs. "He's terribly impressed with their martial power, you see, and dead certain — not to put a pun on it — in the aftermath of the Wrathgate that the Horde will certainly welcome death knights to their own ranks, and be none too scrupulous about it, either. Just look at how nicely they've managed the Forsaken. Shay thinks it to the Alliance's good if we can ensure the loyalty of some of our own, in a marginally more principled fashion at least. And of course no sooner does he decide this than a rather spectacular mass murder occurs on Stormwind's streets.

"So now he is putting his money where his principles are. Equal rights under the law and all that." Sintha rolls her eyes.

Dara's face visibly pales. "But he can't possibly…" He evidently can, so Dara tries again. "They aren't…" Citizens? That seems to be up for debate. "We haven't accepted the Forsaken back as citizens, why would we accept death knights? I suppose I see how they're useful enough on a battlefield, but why would we want to let such dangerous creatures mingle with civilians? We've seen what comes of that already." Dara pauses to pick her pastry back up, and then remembers to add, "Allegedly."

"The King has already declared them our allies — which he certainly never did for the Forsaken, and I credit him with that much, at least, and in fairness… Well, in fairness actually, I don't know why I'm defending his nonsense when the man has made perfectly clear he doesn't appreciate my thoughts on anything." Sintha glares balefully at the ruins of the pastry.

"If you'd like someone to commiserate with, I have a feeling your and my thoughts might align more closely," Dara says, raising and eyebrow and taking a little bite of apricot pastry. She chews and swallows before adding, "More to the matter at hand, the priests that the death knight allegedly killed — who are most certainly dead, however it happened — sprang out of their coffins as ghouls during their own funeral. They and some other woman who died the same night, so it may not be specific to the priests."

"Ghouls." Sintha leans forward a little, frowning and intent. "Well, that isn't the death knight's doing, I don't expect, that isn't how they — I mean, if they ghoul-ify someone, isn't it rather… on the spot? It's not a timed kind of thing. Who was the other woman, poor soul?"

"A Lady Ravendusk?" Dara offers, with a light shrug. "I don't believe I ever made her acquaintance before, nor do I know much of anything about a House Ravendusk. I heard later that she'd been assassinated."

"Ravendusk?" Sintha considers the name, her brows set skeptically. "Stars above, it's like an alias from a penny novel, isn't it? I certainly don't know any Ravendusk in the houses of Stormwind or Lordaeron. Assassinated, you say? This is curiouser by the moment."

"Assassinated and then en-ghouled," Dara nods. "I suppose it's possible the en-ghouling targeted her, and the priests were merely collateral damage. I do think someone was there on the spot doing the raising, though — it was not simply like, oh… ghoul bread rising with a kitchen timer. That's the one Sophiette and I went after, once the ghouls were handled. The person spotted fleeing the scene."

"You went after them? Gosh, how exciting! Where were the guards?"

"I don't suppose they thought a small funeral needed guards," Dara gestures with the pastry. "Who would think, really? But of course Sophiette sprang into action immediately to protect everyone. You should have seen her." For a moment, there's a touch of wistful dreaminess in Dara's eyes, but then she turns back to Sintha and adds, "The suspected culprit ran off in the direction of Westfall, so naturally we informed Marshal Lemontart and SI:7 of what we'd seen."

"Mm, naturally." Sintha is making a shrewd survey of Dara's facial expression. She sits up a little as the waitress returns to set a fresh cup of coffee beside her, and flashes the woman a smile before turning her attention back to Dara. "Have you had any word on the outcome?"

"Oh, yes, they found the cultist's camp, and we volunteered to go in after him," Dara says, taking another little nibble of pastry. "The necromancer, I mean. There was another agent sent along with us for safety, but I think everything went perfectly."

"Oh, so you were the outcome!" Sintha looks — just for a moment — genuinely startled, and then recovers with a breezy smile. "Gosh, that is rather more than just… a lot of travel, and working out. How brilliant for you!"

"Yes, I felt rather like a heroine, even with that agent insisting that Soph and I needed babysitters," Dara's smile is genuine, with a touch of pride. "It was dangerous, yes, but it's rather better than being the girl at the ball people speak to to pass the time until someone more interesting comes along. And anyway, it's sort of like what we talked about before, what goals to accomplish before thirty? Maybe mine are a little more ambitious now."

Sintha smiles her sly, cat's smile. "Darling. I am so glad to hear you say that. I think it's lovely for young ladies to have loftier goals than… marrying men like my brother or yours. No offense to either of those gentlemen, but really."

Dara giggles, looking very pleased with herself. "Working with SI:7, however loosely, was hardly even on my list, but it does make a nice addition, doesn't it?"

Sintha's smile widens, for some reason. "Mmm. I'm sure SI:7 must look awfully impressive on a résumé. I hope you're very proud."

"Oh, certainly, even if I then did talk Sophie into…" Dara trails off and focuses on Sintha suddenly. "What have you been up to, then, that the Vice Admiral might be all wroth about your safety?"

"Oh, I joined the 7th Legion," says Sintha airily, and takes up her fresh coffee for a sip. "He was away at sea — in Icecrown, no less — and enlistment and training and so on was rather a fait accompli by the time he got home again. Absolutely towering rage."

Dara drops her pastry onto the plate again — an excitable young lady's hand is no safe place for a pastry. "You… what? The 7th Legion? But… but why?"

"After what happened at the Wrathgate, I thought it was time I lent my aid more directly to the Alliance effort. All hands on deck, and so on, yes?"

"But are you…" Dara trails off, clearly realizing you don't simply ask someone if they're qualified to join the 7th Legion, just because you've only ever seen them dance and not engage in combat. Instead, she continues, "…are you going to Icecrown? Because otherwise, that seems like a terrible double standard, doesn't it?"

"The unit to which I've been assigned is currently on leave, which is to say drilling and whatnot here in Stormwind, because they lost over half their number at the Wrathgate. By the time we deploy to the warzone, I have no idea where that will be. But we will be rather ahead of the main force, I expect, as it's an Expeditionary Unit. You know Count Tyrrell, naturally?"

"Count Tyrrell, yes! My darling neighbor, with whom I have rarely spoken," Dara says brightly, and then pales. "Oh, is it his unit lost? The poor dear. I'm afraid I was not paying attention to such things. You'll be with him, then? He does seem a dedicated sort."

"It was, so tragically, and yes, I am serving under him now. I am so pleased. He's really a formidable officer." Sintha herself does not, for once, use the word 'darling'.

"Well," Dara says, and then goes for another bite of pastry. Afterward, she repeats again, "Well, if you are up around Icecrown, or wherever else up in Northrend, will you keep an open eye and ear for any news about Lord Luc Valonforth? He vanished years ago up there, with the first expedition."

"Lord Luc Valonforth? I certainly will. Would you like me to ask Shay about it now? I mean, he may be entirely furious at me, but he wouldn't refuse you a favor like that, and I'm sure he at least knows people who might know something?"

"Do you think he might?" Dara brightens. "If you would ask, I'd be ever in your debt. I'm sure it would mean so much to Sophiette. That's one of the reasons we're planning to join the Argent Crusade, as it happens, and go there ourselves someday. But Northrend is a whole continent so if there are any leads to start with, you know…"

"Well I can certainly at least ask. I will let you know if he learns anything! Or he will, I suppose, directly. Is it all right to tell him he can contact you directly?"

"Yes, by all means! Or Sophiette, of course, if he'll be gentle about it. It's her father, after all."

Sintha nods solemnly. "Of course," she says, lowering her voice to a near-whisper as if to demonstrate how gently Fallons can handle stuff.

Dara takes her last bite of pastry, and then smiles her gratitude at Sintha. "Well, I shan't keep you all day, but I do hope we'll see more of each other before you disappear off to a… a battlefield somewhere. And do tell me if House Fallon finds need of a priestess or a paladin for anything, will you?"

"Oh, we very much will not, Shay would like desperately to be rid of the one we have now, but I wish you the best of luck with the Argents! You must keep me informed, now that we're both to be action sorts."

Dara blinks. "Is there something dreadfully wrong with your priest?"

"Not at all, I adore him. Shay is just — hm. He has strong views on religion, is all." Sintha laughs merrily.

Dara laughs, a little uncertainly. "Well, I didn't realize… perhaps you can just not mention it to him then, and let him believe I'm aiming to become a knife fighter in the Argent Crusade or some such."

"Oh, gosh, I couldn't possibly. Shay would be too terribly intrigued to hear it." Sintha's smile is slyly knowing.

Dara giggles. "Well, then, tell him whatever will make him think well of me, should he think of me at all."

"I'm sure he does," says Sintha, and arches a brow. "Do give Dame Sophiette my best, and I will let you know if Shay hears anything about Lord Valonforth."

"Thank you," Dara says with a bright smile, and bobs another suggestion of a curtsey before she turns to hurry off, a happy lift in her step.