(2024-04-30) Tomorrow (The Shattering)

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Author:	inkie
Summary:	Ben and Ismene are reunited amid the hectic events of the Shattering. They have both got terrible news. They have both, it turns out, got different terrible news. There's plenty of terrible news to go around!
Rating:	M for Mature 17+

It's a terrified gryphon that kites into Ironforge, taking turns too tight and creeling its distress. Wingtips brush walls, a near catastrophic pivot averts an even more catastrophic collision into a building. Its passenger clings tight, face buried in feathers until all four paws slam into the ground. For once, Ismene doesn't have far to go to get to the ground; the poor gryphon is flat on its belly, still chattering and qwauking. "Ben," Mizzy sobs, though he is nowhere near. She stumbles away, bumping into people heading toward the gryphons as she heads away. "Ben!"

Ben isn't that far, as it happens; he's standing near the forge in a close-bunched knot of dwarves and humans all talking urgently over one another. There is a great deal of angry arm-waving going on, and both Common and Dwarven expletives salt the heat-stifled air. Everyone in the group is armed and armored. Something about them suggests that if they didn't have swords and hammers, they would have pitchforks and torches.

Ben is standing a little aside from the main discussion — "discussion" — watching the gryphon aerie, his jaw tight and his expression bleak. When he sees Mizzy land, he lights up entirely, a flare of fervent relief, and then he takes in her manner and goes grim again. He begins shoving his way through the throng of people toward her at once.

"Mizzy!" he calls toward her. "MIZMAINY."

Of course he's there. He's always near, always there for her. Her sobs don't abate and tears make her semi-blind as she tries to slip through the throng. There's rather more bumping than slipping going on and frustration joins with devastation. She stops trying and just buries her face in her hands, waiting for him to come save her.

"Ben," she says again. And again. And again.

He is there, then; there may be some angry exclamations in the people moving urgently around them, but Ben is there and he has wrapped her up tight in his arms to crush her against his armored chest. "Oh, shit, Mizmainy. Thank the Holy Light, shit. I was hopin' you still was in Darkshire, I was not sure — thank the Light." He rocks her against him.

She flings her arms around his neck, clinging to him no matter how tightly he's holding her. "Ben," she says, still sobbing. She's trying for more words, but all she can say is his name. "I went back," she finally manages to gasp out, "I went back and the dragon— We almost crashed but I went back and— Everyone's dead, they're all dead! It's my fault they're all dead!"

Ben's eyes widen. "The — you went to Stormwind? Mizmainy, I thought — everyone's dead? They ain't said — how is it your fault? Mizmainy, kitten, it can't be your fault a fucken dragon — hey, c'mon, shhhh." He rocks her again.

"No, Southshore!" She forces herself away so she can look up at him, dark eyes wild and shimmering with tears. "The orchards are gone, they're all dead, everyone!"

Ben stars at her, blankly uncomprehending. "Southsh- the orchards? But the — you was — I mean, Stormwind?" He exhales and straightens slowly, as though there is a weight on his shoulders that pains him. "It come to Southshore, too? I don't think… I don't think anyone here is got that news yet. Shit."

He looks away from Mizzy, staring.

Nor does she understand him. "They attacked Stormwind? How? We have to — I have to help! I can't —" She looks around, left then right, hair swinging with the rapid motion of her head. "There's no cure for the plague, are they evac- My mother! We have to go!" She untangles herself from Ben, turning toward the gryphons.

"The plague?" Ben seizes her by the arm to bring her up short before she can dart away. "Hold up, what — the plague? Wait — in — Southshore? Mizmainy, I do not think we are talkin' about the same thing at all." Ben looks staggered. "What the fuck, a plague? You were not there when the dragon landed on Stormwind?"

Dragon. The dragon. That, she understands. "No, one flew overhead as we were landing in D-darkshire, the gryphons just… panicked. By the time I got one to fly again…" Her expression collapses back into sorrow and grief. "The Horde," she explains through renewed tears. "They p-plague bombed Southshore. Everyone's dead, the orchards are wiped out."

Ben literally staggers this time. He reaches out his other hand to take Mizzy by both her shoulders as though he needs her to keep him upright. "They — what. No. No, they —"

It takes him a moment to find his breath. He pulls Mizzy against him again. "I can't — oh, shit, Mizzy. The — those fucken — after Wrathgate, we said. We said it! And she — aw, fuck."

He lifts his head and looks around. "We got to tell someone. I do not think they got that news here yet. Everyone is all — Mizmainy." He drops his gaze to her again, dark and pained. "Mizmainy, the dragon went to Stormwind. He… it was bad. I do not know what all he done there, but it was bad, they are sayin'. And they are talkin' about… tidal waves, an' shit? I do not even know?"

It's too much. The words bounce around inside her head and she just stares at him, jaw slightly dropped, eyes wide with incomprehension and heartbreak. "I don't…" She shakes her head a little. "I don't know what to do," she says, lost and bewildered. "I don't know what to do."

She shudders, then shakes herself like a dog shedding water. "We tell people," she says. "We… we send messages, from Cobalt Company so they'll listen. To the palace, and the ki- The leaders here. People have to know." Tears continue to roll down her cheeks, but she looks to Ben to confirm her plan. That's a good idea, right? To send messages?

"Okay," Ben says, and smooths a hand over her hair. "Okay. That is what we will do. We will go to — we will go to HQ, and put 'em official on Cobalt paper, have the mages next door send 'em fast. Yeah? We will — I will find a guard here, someone official. To tell the —" He pauses. "To tell Moira, I guess? I don't even know who — I dunno who is in charge here of shit like —"

He takes a deep breath. "I will tell… maybe you should tell High Priest Rohan? He will know. Tell about the plague, I mean. Everyone knows about —" He lifts his head again, sweeps a look across the commotion all around them. "Everyone here has got the news about the dragon. I don't think… the other thing yet."

Ismene nods and nods again just in case the first one wasn't noddy enough. "All right," she says. "Let's…" She takes Ben's hand. "Tell me about the dragon, I don't want to th— I can't talk about the or— Tell me about the dragon." She gulps, eyes focused on the path in front of her. Just look at the path, Ismene. Don't think, just look and walk and hear about the dragon.

He squeezes her hand. "I don't — I mean, I have — I know what the people here know, which is what we been hearing — I did not want to leave here because then you would not know where I went if you come back here, and then it looks like no one is gettin' out of here to there because it's all a big clusterfuck with people tryin' to get there all piled up at the gryphon master and people tryin' to get here from there and some fellows started sayin' they was just gonna take gryphons themselfs an' go, an' fuck the flight master, an' then some —" He stops to take a breath.

"That ain't here nor there. What I have heard is there was some kind of… wave or somethin' hit Stormwind? Tidal wave? Out of the harbor. An' while everyone was panickin' about that, out of nowhere come this… huge fucken black dragon, just come and tore up the city. People are sayin' it is gone now, but I do not get whether someone fought it, like if the King and soldiers… or if it just… decided to go away, or what the fuck. An' I don't know who we have got in the city apart from my dad an' your ma, there's the Aspenwoods and maybe Rae, maybe Sil, maybe Lena — I don't know where the fuck anyone's at."

"A black dragon. That's what flew past us, what made the gryphons panic," Ismene says. "So I don't think it's still there, either. Unless it flew over us to Stormwind. But no, it was flying away. Past us." She's repeating herself a lot. "I'm repeating myself a lot," she says. "I'm sorry, I can't thi— I just don't under— What is happening, Ben? I thought with Arthas dead…" But clearly not.

She shakes her head again, rapidly. "Get to HQ," she says. "Write messages. Take them to the mages and to the High Priest. Then… then everything else."

He lets go of her hand so that he can wrap an arm around her instead. "Get to HQ, write messages. Then pancakes. Then everything else."

She manages to stay silent for six or seven steps. "Ben… the orchards are gone."

He stops walking, pulls her against him again, is silent for a moment. He shudders once, but when he speaks, his voice is low and steady, a forced, deliberate calm. "Yeah. Ismene. I can't — I am — it is hard to get your head around… any of this. Anywhere. But that was… I know, kitten. I know. We will — I do not know what to do about that right now. I really don't. I will, an' when I do, I will do it. Right now, I got to —"

A long exhale. "How many did you get out ahead?" he asks her.

"Eight," she says, resting her forehead against his chest. "Eight. Three women, five children. I got all the children out, but none of their fathers. Just eight. If only…" But there is no if only. Just her. Her slender shoulders slump. She turns to walk again.

"Hey." He pulls her back again roughly. "That's… Mizmainy, that is eight people safe an' alive on family land because of you. That is three children and their mamas who will grow up knowing you come for them an' kept them safe, when even their own papas could not. That is not no one, Mizmainy. That is not no one. I reckon you saved more lifes today than… most anyone. An' we will… think of somethin'. We will start over an' we will build it again. It will not be your orchards, Mizmainy, I am sorry. But today you saved people, an' we will get these messages out an' maybe save more, who knows? An' tomorrow we will… make some plans."

"We have to tell them. The ones I saved." She doesn't seem to mind having been pulled back, no matter how roughly. Her hands flutter at his waist, unable to settle, thwarted by armor. "We can tell them tomorrow. Let them have tonight." She looks up. "Do you think that's all right? If we tell them tomorrow?"

"I think it is all right. It is not like we are gonna turn time back for anyone right now. Let 'em have a night." He stoops to kiss her forehead, draws back to study her intently. "Fucken hell, Mizmainy. I was — pretty scared there when I did not know where you was for sure."

"I had to try to make them listen," she says. "One of the houses had collapsed in an earthquake. Mason died, and I tried to make everyone else evacuate." She reaches up (and up) to cup his face in her hand. "I'm sorry I frightened you. But I had to try."

He shakes his head a little, not enough to dislodge her hand. "'Course you did. You was lookin' after our people. 'Course you did. It is what you do, 'cos you are a sweet soul. I am —" He looks away for a moment, and then drags his gaze back to her. "Shit. I can't believe — I just don't know what, you know? I don't. Maybe I will know what tomorrow."

"I'm too sweet," she says, frowning sharply. "No one listens to me because I'm too… little and sweet." She drops her hand to take his and gives him a tug. "We have to send messages," she says. "We should check at the clinic; if Niris is there and has heard about the dragon, she'll be frantic. Tomorrow we'll…"

You'll what, Ismene?

"We'll know what tomorrow."