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| Details |
| Author: | Disknight |
| Summary: | Celaven and Atley go on a frantic search for Velrin after the Lich King is defeated. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Chain: Icecrown Citadel
There is a great hustle and bustle on the ground at the base of Icecrown Citadel. With the Arthas defeated, the remaining Scourge forces became scattered and disorganized, making them easy targets for the Argent forces who remained on the battlefield to ensure the Alliance could withdraw safely. Celaven and Atley remain behind for now, however, searching for Velrin having last seen her plummeting from the pinnacle of the citadel.
"There is still hope," Celaven says to Dane, but it sounds like he's trying to convince himself. "I tried to get close enough to slow her fall, but it all happened so fast…"
Atley looks weary, and frankly, filthy as he overlooks the battlefield, shaking his head. He sets his jaw and looks back to Celaven, sternly nodding. “There is hope,” he decides with a growl as he approaches the base of the citadel, starting to overturn bodies of the former living and former undead both. “She’s a tough sort.”
They both find countless slain bodies. Among them are several night elf women, but none of them appear to be Velrin. Eventually the Argent forces begin to catch up with them, recovering the dead to be handled in a more respectful manner away from the battlefield.
Atley grunts with surprise upon seeing the first slain night elf woman, gently lowering to turn her face before he grunts a second time, more solemnly, and keeps looking.
Celaven nods at the Argent Crusaders, as they pass, and says to Dane, "I wish I could try to resurrect these people, but… the Argent Crusade has experts for that. And if she were here, injured, somewhere, and I delayed… we can't allow that to happen."
After things slowly start to settle down, a dwarf paladin approaches the pair, "Oi there. Are ye lookin fer someone? We've got medics in the rear who're keepin track of that sort of thing."
"Yes, Velrin Silverbloom," Celaven says immediately. "Long violet hair, markings just here…" he gestures on his own face, over his eyes. "Kaldorei, obviously."
Atley listens to Celaven and nods without taking his eyes off of the corpses. When the dwarven Argent approaches, he turns and faintly knits his brow, merely nodding along with a grunt as he takes an impatient break from the search.
The dwarf tries his best to hide that he has no idea who Ven is talking about, "I can't say I've seen her." He scratches his beard nervously. He's probably told enough bad news for one lifetime today alone, "Do ye know where ye last saw her?"
"Yes, she was… falling," Celaven's ears droop. "Off of Icecrown Citadel. I know how that sounds, but there's plenty of reason to think she might have survived. There are so many ways to slow a fall."
"Of course." The dwarf says unconvincingly, "Well… I'll let you know if she turns up, but… a nasty fall like that. If she didn't manage to save herself I'm not sure how much there will be left to find."
By this time, Atley had already started looking around at the fallen bodies, keeping on ear on the conversation. As the dwarf mentions his skepticism, Atley turns toward him with a glare, and visibly restrains himself. “Then we’ll discover wot’ we can.” He clasps Celaven on the shoulder.
"She can't be dead, I would kn…" Celaven pauses, a little flicker of pain on his face. "Her… friend… Nylarria would know. I'm certain she would be here by now, if Velrin were gone."
Atley pauses at that, forming a faint frown. He eyes Celaven before turning to fece him, shaking his head. “How do you mean?”
"It's a… soul connection thing. We call it shalan. You worked with Caspis for a time, yes?" Celaven asks, though he knows the answer. He continues, "Caspis has that bond with my mother. And Velrin has it with Nylarria."
Atley sharply nods once he understands. “Aye. Aye, shalan.” He squints and looks around at the ruinous setting. “So, she may live yet,” he growls thoughtfully. “P’raps Velrin’s traveled to one of the garrisons by now, then. Limped.”
"That could be it," Celaven brightens, his ears lifting slightly. "If she could move at all, she wouldn't give up. She would try to make her way back."
Atley grunts. “Let’s go have a look at the infirmaries. I warrant if she’s not dead, she’s there.” He looks to Celaven and nods slowly, a slight gentleness apparent in his eyes. “You’ll be joined either way her sooner than any of us know, I warrant.”
"Yes, and in this life," Celaven says quietly, still scanning the battlefield. "I'm not ready to be parted from her yet."
Celaven walks with Dane over towards where the living have been gathering, where injured have begun trickling in on foot and, in the worst cases, on makeshift stretchers.
At the infirmary they are greeted by a forsaken woman clad in Argent Crusade regalia. A priestess by the look of her, “Yes, do you have any injured for us? Or perhaps you’re injured yourselves. Poison perhaps? Don’t worry. Whatever it is we can patch you up as soon as possible.”
"We're unharmed," Celaven says, and looks for a moment like he wants to offer assistance, but then he says instead, "Do you have a list of those who've been recovered? We're looking for someone we lost on the battlefield."
"I think I have one somewhere…" She rummages through her bag to pull out a messy looking ledger, "Who are you looking for?"
"Velrin Silverbloom," Celven says promptly. "She would had the same tabard as Sir Atley and I?"
“Silverbloom hmmm…” she flips through to a particular page and traces a finger down, “Mmmmm not seeing her. Is there a chance she was a hippogryph rider? Many of them left straight for their own camps after the battle.”
Atley gives the Forsaken priestess a flat, but tolerant look, and lets Celaven speak for a moment as he peers over nearby heads in the crowd, scanning gurneys. "She fell from the peak of Icecrown Citadel," he growls towards the priestess without looking. "During battle with the Lich King himself. We've reason to believe she's still alive, and among your injured."
Atley spots a few kaldorei in the rows of patients, but none appear to be Velrin. “I understand that you have faith in your friend, but I’m afraid she isn’t here.” She taps her ledger, “We keep careful track of these things.”
"She does ride a hippogryph," Celaven says quietly to Atley. "She wasn't, at the time, but… perhaps it came to her, in a time of need? Animals can be more perceptive than we think."
The forsaken gives Ven a blank look and then slides her gaze to Atley.
Atley grunts and gives Celaven a nod before he frowns in thought. "It may have. We ought to split up, cover more ground. I'll make for the Argent Vanguard and search out any sign of her. You ought to stick 'round the Ashen Verdict lot, see wot' they know, if any." he proposes.
Celaven nods. "Should we say we'll meet back here in two hours time? And I hope one of us will have met with success."
Atley grunts. “Aye. A sound plan. Stay in touch, then.” He scans the sky overhead, spotting Thoras among the flock, letting loose a sharp whistle.
Celaven whistles for his own gryphon and climbs up gracefully, the gryphon rising into the air and bearing him in the direction of the mixed paladin and death knight camp of the Ashen Verdict. Celaven keeps his eye out along the way, looking for any sign of a lone, injured, kaldorei woman.
Similarly, Atley mounts his gryphon and makes for directly east to ascertain to Velrin's whereabouts in the Argent Vanguard.
They both investigate their respective areas and see many injured gathered about, but none matching Velrin's description.
Celaven comes back to meet Dane at the infirmary, his ears lowered and his hair hanging a little limply by now. Still, there's a determined set to his jaw. He has not found a body.
Atley doesn't need to ask to get an answer. He examines Celaven's dark expression and nods wth a grunt. "Nylarria. Can she be found? Contacted?" he growls at Celaven.
"I… could try arcane courier," Celaven says, uncertain. "I do not know her well, yet, and she seems to appear when she wants to be found. It was… after the Nightmare, when I first met Nylarria. She and Velrin were ensnared together. You might have seen them among the phantoms, when you and I fought in the Dream."
Atley squints. His mind drifts over to Crim, to the literal dozens, and hundreds of other faces, and he shakes his head with a growl. "I cannot think of her face." he growls, before he looks over to Celaven. "I'll make for the Skybreaker. You ought to make for the base of Icecrown Citadel, the portion nearly into Winterspring. See if she's limping about somewhere out there."
Celaven nods. "I'll check by the Kaldorei camp as well. If Nylarria did feel pulled here, she might look there."
Atley works his jaw, lowering a hand to firmly pat Thoras a few times. "I'll meet you at the launch pad in Dalaran in three hours. Mm?"
"I will see you there," Celaven nods, and climbs back onto his gryphon's back. "I hope one of us will have better news. But even if not, I thank you for helping me in the search - I know you have your own loved ones to return to as well. And whatever has happened to Velrin, she has always thought very highly of you. We did everything that we could, and she would know that."
Atley meets Celaven's gaze before he lowers it and grunts. "I'll not forsake a comrade … or a friend. She's fortunate to have you." He inclines his head before he spurs Thoras onwards and upwards with a "yah!" to fly off towards the Skybreaker, which just so happens to be hovering nearby.
Celaven watches Dane go for a moment, and then turns his own gryphon to fly to the kaldorei encampment.
When Celaven arrives at the kaldorei camp everything is bustling. Sentinels pour in and out, both preparing to return home and helping with the aftermath and relief efforts at the same time. Most of the women seem too busy to help him, but one archer with rich green hair approaches him, “Elune adore, priest. What brings you to our camp?”
"Elune adore," Celaven answers automatically, his eyes still scanning around. "I'm looking for… well, potentially for several people who may have come in after the battle."
“I see. Were you separated from your group perhaps? The Argent Crusade has been handling most of our casualties.” She responds.
"Yes, we were separated, but I have hope she is still alive," Celaven says, a touch of desperation in her eyes. "Velrin Silverbloom, she was a sentinel once. Or possibly another woman, who I could describe, if you haven't seen Silverbloom."
“Oh, little Velrin? Yes I believe the commander found her not long ago.” She says. Judging from her tone, she clearly is familiar with her, “Her condition isn’t good, though. The druids have had trouble tending to her wounds. The poor thing…”
Celaven's mouth falls open. He stares at the archer in surprise, struck speechless for a long moment. For all his words, he clearly had begun to grudgingly accept that his love was dead. And now…
"Velrin Silverbloom," Celaven repeats, hope rising in his expression, his ears lifting. "We are talking about the same woman? Violet hair, gorgeous and deadly?" Probably not how other sentinels describe her, but Celaven doesn't seem to notice or care. "She's alive? And hurt… where? Can you take me to her?"
The sentinel notes his reaction and smiles softly, “I can’t say I’ve ever known any other Velrins. I’ll take you to her.” She turns on her heel and motions with her head for Ven to follow, “You’re Celaven Evensong aren’t you.” It’s more of a statement than a question.
"I am, yes," Celaven says, falling in behind the sentinel and blinking away what might be the start of tears of relief. "I suppose there are not so many men in the service of Elune, that perhaps I am known."
“I’m Kanuriel Shadetalon, Velrin’s former commanding officer. Since coming back to this company I’ve heard quite a bit of gossip from other sisters about you and her.” Kanuriel explains.
"Gossip, really?" Celaven's ear twitches. "Only good things, I hope. I did not intend to steal her away from the Sentinels, if that is what you're implying, but… also yes, we belong to one another. How badly is she hurt? I saw her fall…"
Kanuriel looks back with a strained expression, “Let’s just say that after I heard them I could tell you were doing her a lot of good.” She continues weaving through the camp quickly, “The fall itself didn’t do much. The commander caught her in the air. However, it seems to have shaken her up quite a bit. Her leg was frozen solid and… well I suppose the druids will be able to tell you better than I.”
"Frozen?" Celaven asks, his brow creasing. "Yes, I will need to speak with them. It is possible my style of healing may complement whatever it is they're doing for her. Though… the critical window for the most effective healing is likely past."
Kanuriel frowns at that last part, “Well I hope there’s still some chance you can help her…” She stops in front of a small tent and pulls the flap open. “In here.”
Celaven moves into the tent, looking for Velrin.
The inside of the tent is sparsely furnished it contains little more than a cabinet stocked with medical supplies and a low bed in the center. A tall white haired druid stands on one side of the bed while Fyrdriel Oceansong sits at the other side holding the hand of the patient inside. Velrin’s expression is fairly cheerful, strangely enough, but her face is deathly pale.
Fyrdriel and the druid look over at Celaven as he enters, “Who is it?” Fyrdriel asks him.
"Celaven," He answers automatically, but his eyes are only on Velrin. For a moment, the others in the tent may as well no longer exist. He rushes over to side the bed in front of Fyrdriel, reaching out hands that are already faintly shining with light. "Velrin, my love, you're alive! We looked almost everywhere, and I was starting to think…"
Fyrdriel bristles on instinct when Ven rushes over but it quickly subsides, “Oh, good.” She says with a sigh of relief.
Velrin looks up at Ven and her face lights up, “Ven… you found me.” She’s clearly happy but there’s a vacant look in her eyes that Ven might recognize from when Velrin was in her room in Dolanaar surrounded by poison and knives.
Celaven's expression melts from joy to concern, and he reaches down to gently cup her face in his hands. "Velrin, I was so worried. Sir Atley and I looked everywhere we could think to look. I'll need to let people know as soon as I can - we are certainly not the only ones worried for you."
“You were looking for me?” Velrin says sweetly, “And Sir Dane too? You’re so good to me, darling.” She wiggles her ears.
Fyrdriel squeezes Velrin’s hand, “See Velrin, people miss you.”
"Of course we were looking for you," Celaven leans forward to kiss her on the forehead. "I saw you fall, when you were fighting the Val'kyr… you were just out of reach. I thought, if I could get close enough, I could do something, but I was too far away. I'm so sorry, Velrin."
Velrin closes her eyes and wiggles at Ven’s kiss, “No, I’m sorry. I was too slow and I made you all worry.”
"I worry because I love you," Celaven says, completely unselfconsciously. "Not because you've done anything wrong. Now, your leg…" he seems to notice the other three people in the room suddenly. He turns to the druid. "…it was frozen, they said?"
“Yes. The whole thing was frost bitten.” He responds, “I was able to stave off the worst, but…” he peels the blanket from Vel’s legs to reveal one of them still fleshy looking enough, but nearly black, “It wasn’t enough. If she doesn’t improve soon we’ll have to amputate it.”
"Better to lose a leg than a life," Celaven says, but he leans towards the leg. "Can I have a look? It may be too late for the Light to help, and I'm sure you've already done all that was possible, but… I have to try."
“Please do.” Fyrdriel looks at Ven pleadingly.
“I’m so sorry…” Velrin tears up, “I’m just going to be a burden on you…”
The druid keeps a grim expression and watches Celaven.
"If you are a burden it is one I choose to bear willingly and happily," Celaven says, running his hands above the blackened leg. Light gathers in him palms, and he channels it into Velrin. His expression is intent as he tries to find the harm and coax it back to the way it should be.
Velrin pouts and tugs at Celaven’s sleeve, “S-so you’ll come back with me? A-and introduce me to Caspis? And build a home with me and give me lots and lots of beautiful children?”
"I'll always find you and bring you home, no matter where you go," Celaven murmurs, focusing on the wound, his ears drooping as he realizes the extent of the injury. "The home we'll make in Stonetalon. And yes, we can visit Caspis in the Plaguelands… maybe we won't call them that anymore, I hear they're alive and growing again. And children, as many children as Elune will grant us…"
Velrin closes her eyes and a few tears roll down the sides of her face, “Bring me home…” she echoes. She takes a deep breath and relaxes. It’s hard to tell but she might have fallen asleep.
In any case, however, after a couple minutes and perhaps not a small amount of worrying, Velrin’s leg slowly starts to shift from a blackish purple to a chapped, swollen indigo.
Celaven breathes a low sigh of relief at the signs of improvement, and then he smiles gently for a long moment as he simply watches her sleeping face.
Then he looks up to the druid healer, and says very quietly, "I can keep working for a while, but it may already be too late for the injury to heal fully. Did she… not want to be healed?"
The druid puts on a strained expression and holds a hand over Velrin’s leg to help Ven, “I’m optimistic that she’ll regain full function but… it will probably give her some trouble from now on.” He shakes his head, “I’ve never seen someone so stubborn before. It’s like she was resisting being healed.”
"Some people do that entirely unconsciously," Celaven nods. "It is terribly frustrating for all involved. But Velrin… I worry it may not have been unconscious. Either way, she is willing to be healed now, and that's what matters."
Fyrdriel nods, “It’s true. Velrin is a strong girl. Her body springs back quickly, but when it comes to healing… this has always been an issue.” She reaches over and places a hand on Ven’s arm to get his attention, “Celaven. Thank you for finding her.” She says desperately.
Celaven's attention is caught by her tone, and he turns to look at Fydriel in concern. "I would not have gotten to her quickly enough. Thank you and your sisters for preserving her life. But… are you well?"
“I… I’ll be fine…” Fyrdriel takes a deep breath, “Velrin is very precious to me. When I caught her there it was like… she had already come to terms with her own death in just those few short moments. When she looked up at me at first she thought I was her mother.”
"You caught her," Celaven's eyebrows raise. "She could not have expected such a rescue - perhaps she thought herself already in the shadow lands. One day death will come, and I hope we will all be able to meet it at peace. Still, I am more relieved than I can say that this was not her day."
“On that we agree.” Fyrdriel tightens her grip on Ven’s arm, “But I still cannot thank you enough for coming here. If Velrin were to lose a limb… I’m not sure her heart could recover from such a loss. I need you to understand how much this means to me and to her.” She finally catches herself and lets go of Ven, returning instead to stroke Velrin’s hair, “Velrin was never a talkative one as a Sentinel. Try as I might, I could never find a place for her to fit in here. But whenever she did talk toward the end it was almost always about you.”
"At least, it seems that fear will not be tested. These days, I think she is learning to find her place," Celaven says, returning his gaze to Velrin. "And I can only be happy that part of it is with me."
He pauses again, and then says,"I've a little time before I need to report back to my unit. They were all well and the hostilities ended when I left to look for her. And I'm to meet her friend, Dane Atley, in Dalaran soon. I don't think she'll be well enough to be moved just yet.'
“More than part, I should say.” Fyrdriel regards Celaven seriously, “All the magic in the world wouldn’t have been enough to help her as she was. It was you that cured her. Never forget that.”
Celaven's ears twitch in surprise. Then he smiles, and some of the worry in his expression melts away with this realization. "Thank you. I will carry that knowledge in my heart."
“Good.” Fyrdriel’s expression warms, “I can rest easier knowing you will be with her.”
"I will," Celaven says, and then he moves to rise. "But I should get to Dalaran, to let people know she's been found. Dane is concerned, and I expect others are as well."
Velrin stirs from her rest and opens her eyes. When she sees Ven making to leave she starts to whimper and reaches out her arms, opening and closing her hands at him.
"Ah, or perhaps…" Celaven stops, and reaches out to take her hands in his, smiling gently down at her. "I can write a letter."