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| Details |
| Author: | Alli |
| Summary: | On returning to the Fallon estate after the wedding, Lena happens upon Shine. They make a visit to the family shrine for guidance, each for different reasons. ~9000 words. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
It's late evening when Lena descends from the carriage in front of the Fallon house, a touch of weariness in her step. She shivers a little as she considers the entrance, pulling her shawl a little more tightly over her bare shoulders. The light fabric of her dress seems intended more for a summer's day than a cool evening.
Instead of moving towards the warmth and light of the building, though, she turns away and begins to make her way towards the water. Maybe it's too soon after a long and crowded party to face the prospect of a large and crowded household.
It's a shorter walk, these days, to the coast.
Ahead of her, gazing out at the water, stands a dark-silhouetted male figure. He is dressed casually, his arms folded across his chest, and he seems entirely lost in some cloud of thought, his chin tipped down, unaware of his surroundings.
When Lena spots the figure, she pauses, her hands going quickly to smooth her loose, blonde hair, and to touch lightly below her eyes to make sure makeup isn't running. It's been a lot of hours at a wedding party, after all. Then she moves closer.
"Hello?" Lena calls gently, announcing her presence. And then she starts to make out more details in the moonlight. "Shine, is that you?"
He turns his head swiftly to look over his shoulder — over his right shoulder, his left being his blind side. His view of her approach is awkward from that angle, so he drops his arms and turns entirely to face her. "Miss Coit," he greets her, and then amends: "Lena. Good evening."
It has taken him a moment in the darkness to register her appearance. He takes it in now — the loose hair, the bare shoulders, the elegant flow of the blue gown — and shifts his weight a little before meeting her gaze again Respectfully. "You look very fine. I didn't see earlier; it's been my day off. How was the wedding?"
Lena takes in his appearance with a glance, though whatever assessment she might be making of it is locked carefully behind a polite smile.
"Good evening to you, and thank you," Lena says, and there's a touch of weariness that creeps into her smile as she considers his question. "The ceremony was lovely. It was obvious Priscilla and Bertrand were very much in love, so that made it all the sweeter. And then, well… it was a social event. How was your day off?"
Shine considers the question in his turn. "Tiring," he says at last, and smiles faintly. "And it had seemed to me that the lord and lady were very fond, so I'm glad for them. They certainly waited long enough." He gives another fleeting ghost of a smile, and then surveys her again.
"What brings you out here, still in your dress? Are ye warm?"
Lena pulls her shawl up over one shoulder, but then shrugs. "I'm warm enough. I've just spent the whole afternoon in a crowd, and the house is… often a crowd as well. I don't know." She turns to look out over the water. "Maybe it's just… that feeling sometimes, like I don't quite fit. I just… like to remember times when I feel like I do."
Shine laughs gently. "You're right about the house. But it's a big house, and it stood nearly empty for too long. It was a cold place for the pair of them growing up, and I suppose Fallon finds it a pleasant novelty now to have it full of people. Those of us who came up in noisier places ourselves may have wearied of it long since."
He steps to one side as though concerned he might be impeding Lena's view of the sea; he looks from her to the water and back again. "I remember the first times ye came to visit this house. You've grown into it. But the whole thing does feel sometimes like walking a maze with invisible walls, for an audience. Nice to step out of it now and again to where you can see and not be seen."
"That's a good way to put it," Lena says, with a faint smile. "And it is hard to imagine that place empty and echoing. It must have felt something surreal. Was it much noisier, where you grew up?"
Shine laughs. "Well it was much smaller, to start. Which does keep the noise in better. And there were four of us — children, that is — to run amok. And before I'd left the house myself, both my brothers were wed and I had a pair of nephews and a niece. So aye. Noisier."
"Four, really?" Lena laughs in response, and maybe it sounds like she's surprised at the idea of a large family, at least until she follows up with, "Me, as well, three older brothers. And yes, the house was smaller, too. That's a coincidence. Or just a good number for a family."
Shine smiles warmly at her. "Ah, ye were the last? The fourth of us is a girl as well, my sister Merryn." He turns his gaze toward the northwest. "I still think of her most of the time as a wild little foal with her hair in braids, but she'd be…." He tips his head back and counts. "Well, she must be thirty-one now. Married and a mother herself."
"Not so far off from me," Lena says, smiling at him and then turning to look out over the water as she continues. "I suppose we get spoiled, the youngest. Let to run wild a bit. I hope you'll get to see them again someday, and whatever new nieces and nephews you've got."
Shine nods at the distance. "I hope, aye. I've a nephew named for me, now. Three years old. I've not yet met the boy." His smile fades a little as he continues gazing outward.
After a moment, he glances sidelong at Lena. "I'm sorry," he says.
Lena shakes her head, dismissing the apology. "I'll see mine again too someday, I reckon. Just hopefully not for a long while yet." There's a few more breaths of silence, before she says, "I suppose we've both of us got things to worry about in the meantime. Any closer to deciding what you mean to do next?"
Shine puts his hands in his trousers-pockets and looks out at the water again. "I've been thinking on it all day. Well… for a time now. Coming to a decision today, I think. I was meaning to make my way out to the shrine tonight, and talk to Fallon in the morning." He looks sidelong at Lena again, wryly this time. "As ye can see, I've not quite made my way there yet."
"The family shrine?" Lena asks, turning to him in obvious curiosity. "For guidance on your path, you mean? Does the Tidemother… do that?"
Shine considers the question, canting his head. "I wouldn't… say that, no. She doesn't tell you what to do or not. Ye set your own course and steer your own way. But any sailor can tell ye it's worth paying your respects and asking Her blessing for your journey before ye set out."
Lena bites her lip in thought, looking at Shine. Then she asks, "How do you… do that? Like, I know the Church of the Light has its prayers and songs and whatever else. Fallon talked a lot about like, the philosophy of it, the Tidemother worship, but not so much the practice."
Shine tips his chin down, his head still canted sideways so that he can watch her with his good eye. "We've our prayers and ceremonies just as the Light church does, I expect. But they're reserved for the most formal occasions: a ship's blessing, an immersion, a wedding. A funeral.
"There are lesser charms and prayers that sailors' wives and the like will use traditional — but for the most part, when ye deal with Her, ye deal direct. Say what ye will, offer what ye will, by the measure of your own respect. There's no fair dealing, no expectation of reward, no payment in kind. Only respect." He continues to watch her for a time. "Would ye come and see? Ye may not see much, but you're welcome."
Lena looks up at him with both of her own eyes, her gaze intent. There's a little of the manner of a student in her, like the focus she might hold while reading about the fel. She leans slightly toward him as he continues, not seeming completely aware she's doing it.
"That seems… more honest," Lena says finally. "It's what surprised me, when Fallon talked about it. More like how I've how to understand the world." She moves one hand to the crook of his arm. "I'd like to come see, if it won't harm your own blessing."
Shine tilts his head a little farther, briefly startled at the contact, and then offers his arm more securely to her grip. "It is, I think, honest. Nothing about the state of your heart or purity of intention. You tell her what ye mean to do, nothing hidden from the sea, and she'll favor your journey or not, but there's no point skulking about it and no —" He stops abruptly and lifts his head, looking out at the water again. "No bargains to be made," he says slowly, as if to himself.
Then he shakes the moment off and glances down at Lena again. He sweeps her outfit with a look. "It's a rocky walk, and a scramble in places. Will ye be all right like that? Would ye like to leave your shoes?"
Lena's brow creases briefly in concern as he looks out at the sea. Then she blushes faintly as he assesses her state of clothing.
"Oh, yes," Lena says, getting a firmer grip on his arm as she lifts one foot, starting to pull off her shoes with her other hand. It's a little awkward with the long skirt. "I can go barefoot - my feet aren't so delicate. As for the dress… well… it'll mend. I can't wear it to another event anyway, if I'm right about how these silly fashion rules work."
Shine laughs dryly. "I'm afraid you are. Strikes me a bit criminal these days, wi' the state of the world, to go burning money like that, but it's part of the game, aye? To show that ye can." He surveys her again. "If ye like, whatever state it's in, ye can give it to Moirin after and she'll take it apart and use the cloth for something else. So it's not all a waste."
Lena raises an eyebrow as she leans forward to pull off her second shoe. "Might that be a way around the waste?" She turns to look up at him with wide, guileless eyes, half-bent to the sand. "Goodness, this is another dress entirely, any similarity in fabric is surely only your imagination."
He laughs again, more warmly this time. "Exactly so. A lady like Her Grace couldn't do it, because her gowns… mean things, and are made to speak particularly. People would remember. But a lady not in Her Grace's position could get away with it. Moirin's no M. Latour or city tailor, I warn, but she's a fine hand with a needle and a fine eye. I've seen her turn out some elegant things when Lady Sintha's needed one on short notice."
"Mean things," Lena says with a chuckle, straightening. "I suppose my dresses don't mean anything beyond 'this is the shape of the woman underneath'. I'd appreciate it, if you don't mind. So long's I don't utterly destroy it on the rocks. Shall we?"
"We shall," Shine says gravely, a gleam of humor in his eye. He does not consider the shape of the woman underneath the dress, Respectfully. "This way, then. It's easy going at first, so only mind your hem if ye need to. The tide's not all the way out."
Lena pulls her skirt up a little with her free hand, revealing bare legs to the mid-calves. She follows Shine's lead, picking her way carefully so as not to slip. "What's immersion, can I ask? That is, I know what the word means," there's a touch of defensiveness there, "but in context. It's a… ceremony?"
"Aye," says Shine, and glances down to check her footing before looking ahead to their course again. "If you stay for a time longer, ye may see one. It's when a new baby is given to the sea, so the Tidemother will know her and she'll know the tides."
"Given to the sea. Immersion," Lena says, leaning her weight on Shine a little as they work their way forward. "I'd like to, if I'm welcome. I know I'm not family. Is it bad that I've not been immersed? I don't want to be, you know… the outsider." Something occurs to Lena then, and she glances over at Shine. "Am I meant to bring a gift of some sort to the shrine?"
Shine casts her a startled look. "Now? Ye don't have to." He is silent a moment. "But I can give ye something to give Her, if ye like." He looks ahead again. "Careful here; step up this rock and over to that one, then down again. No one would expect you've been immersed. If ye tell Fallon or Her Grace that you're interested in the immersion, it would be up to them to allow ye. I expect whether they agree or not, just the asking would earn ye some favor. From him, at least. The Fallons are —" He stops, amends. "The Stormsong Fallons are known for fanatics. Our Fallon isn't quite, but he's… devout. Ye may have noticed."
Lena nods, maybe a little relieved that she and the Tidemother won't start off on the wrong foot. She steps where he directs, up and then over and then down. The hem of her skirt catches briefly on the rock, but it comes loose without tearing.
"I know he's got his… special connection," Lena says, smoothing her skirt. Then she turns again to Shine. "But you, are you devout? You seem to follow, still, one way or the other."
"I suppose I am," says Shine. "You'd be hard-pressed, in truth, to find a Kul Tiran sailor who isn't. You're in Her hands every time ye set foot on a deck, and there's no denying Her power. But my family's belonged to the water for generations, as well. Ferrymen, fishermen, and so on."
"I don't know that I could say my family ever belonged to anything," Lena says. "It must be comforting, in a way, to belong to something. Even if it is something as merciless as the sea."
Shine ruminates on this as they walk; he pauses at a jumble of rocks to offer his other hand in support so that Lena can scramble up and over. "Do mainlanders not feel the same way of… the Light? Or the land they work?"
Lena reaches one hand to take his for balance and bunches her skirt to the knee with the other, calculating how to scramble up without catching the fabric. "I imagine some do, of the Light. Some who are particularly devout. Or fanatic. I was raised to respect the Light and people chosen by it, because it's clearly a real thing. It's a thing folk can use to heal people. But I've never felt I belonged to it." She laughs, a little dryly. "I don't imagine I'd have picked up warlocking if I'd been fanatic about the Light."
Then Lena falls silent as she scrambles up, and she lets her skirt fall as they move over to the other side. It's a little rumpled now, and there's a few dark streaks where the bunched part of it brushed against the rocks. "As for the land, well. It's not… I can't say I… maybe my parents felt that way. Or their parents. Sure, it was our land, and we'd had it for generations. But that's over now, and I'm still here. It's not our land, and I'm not its person. It's nothing. And I'm not nothing."
"No," Shine agrees. "You're not. I don't believe anyone could say you were."
He moves surefooted among the rocks in silence for a time. "I wouldn't say any of us doubt the Light is real. But it's… a power, aye? It's a power that can do great good, which I think draws reverence, but so can others. A thornspeaker or druid can heal without the Light. So can some of the sages. I'm of the impression that even warlocks can do something to heal, and to raise the dead. The Light's a beautiful power, perhaps, but it's one of many, and it's wielded by men. No man can wield the sea, even if there are those few gifted in charming her. She can be coaxed or even instructed, but not used."
He cranes his neck to look ahead of them. "But I've never been of the Church of the Light, so it's fair that I might misunderstand it. And I don't like to trample on someone else's reverence. There are plenty of mainlanders who'd call us as pagan as the trolls, and scoff at us for not comprehending the Light properly."
Less familiar with the path, but seeming unbothered by the stone against her bare feet, Lena follows. The exertion at the end of a long day is starting to catch up with her - she's breathing a little deeper, her cheeks flushing. "When it comes to healing, the fel is about… transfer. I don't always describe it as such, because it makes people uneasy. Since we're talking powers we serve, though, I'll be candid. I can't just heal a person, not without taking it from somewhere else. It's not beautiful, but it is power. And it's one you've got to be strong enough to bend to your will, at least to the extent you use it. Maybe the Light also invites reverence by not being any of that, by being something that gives without asking in return."
Lena pulls off her shawl, knotting it around her waist, leaving her shoulders bare above her dress. "I imagine that fits for some people, seems to describe the world they know. Or maybe it doesn't, but it's how they feel the world ought to be. World of Respect, Tenacity and Compassion. I can see the beauty in that. But there's other beauty in the world. And I'd rather try to understand it than scoff or look down on."
Shine stops walking and simply watches Lena for a moment.
"Aye," he says at last, mildly, and resumes walking. "Power doesn't have to be beautiful. But beauty doesn't have to be soft, either."
They have arrived at a jumble of rocks stacked like a lunatic's staircase, uneven and tilted in all directions; beside these, a massive boulder looms above their heads.
"That's a scramble," Shine says. "Can ye manage it, or will I lift ye?" He indicates the giant rock. "We want to get up to that."
Lena considers the boulder, the man, and then glances down at her unsuitable attire. There's a calculation to be made here, and the factors are not only the ones that are immediately evident. She draws in a breath and gestures at the jumble of rocks.
"Up that, and then to the boulder from the top of it?" Lena asks. "I think I can manage on my own. The dress was already condemned, anyway." She pauses, and then asks in a smaller voice, "How's the way down, on the other side?"
Shine smiles reassurance. "Not to be considered. That's our destination." He tips his chin up at the massive boulder again.
Lena smiles back at him briefly, and then looks up again at the boulder. "Do you think She'd mind a bit of the fel nearby, to make the return simpler? Or would that be an affront?"
He considers the question seriously. "I can't speak for Her. But a willingness to face Her with all the tools and cunning at your disposal are the respect She demands, aye? And She's not yet objected to the fel in service of the fleet."
Lena nods, and turns back to face Shine. "Yes, and she hasn't objected, even when I used it to pluck men out of the water's grasp. Would it bother you?"
Shine tilts his head again, his brow drawn down. "No. Should it?"
He pauses and then shakes his head. "That's a disingenuous question, I suppose. I know mainlanders seem to. And their fear might be justified after what we saw of the Legion in the Third War — though I couldn't tell ye myself, we weren't at Hyjal — but my understanding is that warlocks mean to master that power for our own ends. To use the enemy's weapons for our own. It seems to me a reasonable strategy, and perhaps again that's the Tidemother speaking. As I say: whatever skill and power at your disposal. Only the bold stand in the face of Her."
He glances up at the looming rock and then back to Lena. "And I realize there are those who want the power only for their own ends, or might be corrupted by it. But that's true of any number of powers, is it not? The Scarlets abused even the Light."
"Maybe a certain sort of person, not a certain sort of power," Lena says, bringing her hands together. "Though I admit particular sorts of power do tend to attract those who aim for abuse. And the fel corrupts. That's not debatable. But that's not why or how I started out, and I don't mean it to be my future either. Not that I'm just so strong-willed - though I am, and whether that's a good thing or a bad might depend on your point of view - but I've got a network set up. Me, Lord Tyrrell, Lord and Lady Ference, Luu, May, and the others. We don't mean it to be any of our future."
Without waiting for any further permission, Lena closes her eyes and murmurs something under her breath, and darkness grows beneath her clasped hands. It drops from them and drifts, slowly as a feather, down to the ground at her feet. Where it absorbs into the rocky ground, a tracery of complex symbols within a circle of runic markings gleams into existence, shining in a fel green circle around Lena's feet.
Then she opens her eyes and looks up at Shine, and despite all his words there's a touch of something like fear mixed with defiance in her gaze. She steps towards him, out of the circle. The air shimmers above it, fel energy slowly drifting upward to gather in a little orb of darkness, near head level.
Shine watches, his expression intent. He watches the drift and fall of the shadows, the runes around her feet. When she steps forward, he lifts his gaze to her face again.
He smiles faintly. "I confess, I've not had occasion to see magic of many sorts. When ye see it day in and day out, it must not seem such a marvel to ye."
Lena's lips part slightly in surprise at the smile, and for the briefest moment there's a flicker of something in her gaze as she looks at him, something vulnerable and hungry for approval. Then it passes and she smiles, gesturing towards the circle.
"This one's still something of a marvel to me," she admits. "I learned how to do it in Dalaran, after all that mess with teleportation and the ley lines being unstable. This will hold for a little while, so I can use it as an anchor point. The fel doesn't like to be held in order, though, so eventually it'll just… fade away."
Shine laughs. "Aye, well, I'm accustomed to things that don't like to be held in order. The sea. Fallon." He gives her a lopsided smile, and indicates with a gesture that she should lead the way up the rocks.
Lena chuckles in response, and then turns to the jumble of stones. She makes her way carefully, bare feet against the wet stones, and her hands out forward for balance against the higher rock.
It's about midway to the top of the boulder when one foothold doesn't take, the now-slick bottom of her foot slipping on the wet surface. She mutters, "Oh, shit," as she falls, reaching forward to try to catch herself, and this time the fall is accompanied by the sound of ripping fabric.
Shine has followed her up, surer-footed on familiar stones, and Lena doesn't fall far; he reaches out swiftly to catch her around the waist and pull her back against himself, his own feet planted. He does not release her immediately. "Are ye well?" he asks mildly near her ear. "It sounds as though your gown is not."
Lena takes a breath, and then another, before she answers, "The gown is fabric. Moirin will make it something else. I'm… I'm fine." She rests against him for a moment, drying her foot against the calf of her other leg, and then she finds her footing again, pulling away from him. "I can do this."
"Aye," agrees Shine, and his hands drop lightly away. He waits for her to resume her climb.
Lena continues to make her way up, not minding her increasingly dirty and ragged skirt. She makes it to the top with no further significant incident, though she's breathing hard by the time she steps over to the boulder. She turns to Shine, behind her.
He's quietly close behind — perhaps in case of a second slip — and steps up onto the rock and to one side immediately, giving her space. "Here," he says, gazing across the broad, flat surface of the stone behind her. "The shrine."
At the center of the stone's tabletop surface is a tide pool; untouched by the sea's withdrawal from around and among the rocks, a spare few inches of water stand. The breeze makes moonlight ripples across it, and small objects in the pool gleam or drift in lazy eddies. There are a few flowers floating on the surface; at the bottom of the clear water, coins and a brass button glint. Pieces of sea glass are milky fragments, their soft colors washed out by the darkness, and a few seashells rock gently back and forth with the shift of the water. The sun-bleached skull of a seagull is a watchful ghost.
Standing at the head of the pool is a stone stele. At some point, it wore the carved design of a kraken, its tentacles clinging to stone. It has been broken, though: the top of the pillar is sheared away at an angle, the jagged diagonal face not yet softened by wind and weather, and the kraken holds desperately by only four arms now. There is something defiant about it.
At first, Lena stands silent, giving the shrine its due reverence. She steps closer, her gaze traveling over the remaining offerings in the small pool, the broken kraken. Her fingers twitch, once, like she's supressing the impulse to reach out and touch it. And then, there's a hint of a smile on her lips as she turns back to Shine.
"It still stands," Lena says, her voice hushed so as not to disturb whatever might linger here. The Tidemother, perhaps. "What are we meant to do?"
"Nothing, if ye don't want. But if ye do —" Shine fishes in his pocket, and produces a small silver coin, embossed with an anchor: a Kul Tiran penny. "Ye can leave that for her, in the water. A token of respect. When the tide comes back in, She claims them, aye?" He offers the coin out. "And it's not to bribe Her or buy favor with offerings. Ye can't. She's the mother of the world; it's all Hers to claim. Ye recognize the gifts she gives us, and show respect, is all."
"I've rested my life in Her hands enough times already, I probably ought to make better acquaintance." Lena reaches out to take the silver coin, and then she holds it in her palm, turning it back to front, as if to better know the thing she'll offer.
Then, kneeling carefully by the little tide pool, she reaches her hand into the water, and sets it carefully on the stone bottom. Very quietly, more to the pool of water than to anyone present, Lena murmurs, "I see you. Please, know me."
Then she rises and steps back to Shine's side. Her eyes still on the water, she says, "Thank you. Should I leave, for you?"
Shine raises his brow and then shakes his head. "That's all right. And I won't be long, if ye don't mind a minute or so."
"I don't mind," Lena says, gesturing towards the shrine. "I'll wait for you."
He nods and turns his attention back to the tide pool.
From his pocket, he takes a battered brass compass, its case dented and deeply tarnished. He opens it and gazes at the dial for a moment, looks up at the sky, down at the compass again. "A new course," he says under his breath. "I mean to steer it true."
He clicks the compass-case shut again, and kneels to lay it in the pool. He remains there for a moment, watching the water shiver and settle where his hand had disturbed it.
When he rises to his feet again, he turns to where Lena is standing, and looks from her out to the water. He is still for a moment, and then he moves past her, toward the edge of the rock. "Have ye seen the jellyfish before?" he asks. Presumably of Lena, though he doesn't look back.
"Jellyfish?" Lena asks, following him. "No, I haven't. Is there a special meaning to them?"
"Apart from that they're a sight to see? I don't know. They've always gathered here at the Fallon coast, though. They're not so many in the winter, and then wi'the great wave we thought they might be gone for good, but they've bloomed again. Ye see the light in the water?" He points.
Out in the black water, ribbons of soft blue luminescence are coalescing, twining together into a bank of light.
Lena steps up next to him, reaching out by habit to touch his arm as she looks down at the jellyfish.
"It looks almost arcane," Lena murmurs, smiling in wonder. "But there's no feel of anything beyond the natural. It feels like it must mean something, them gathering here, even after the wave."
"It does," Shine agrees, still gazing out at them. "I know it's brought Fallon comfort, that they've come back." He glances down at Lena and then back out at the shimmering underwater lights. "This is a little farther south than where they used to gather before, but I think the old breakwater contained them. They'd all come to the little beach at night, and ye could go wading among them."
"That must feel magical," Lena says, her gaze still on the jellyfish. "Maybe they'll return there too, with time. It doesn't heal all, but it does heal some things."
Shine is silent for a little while. He puts his hands in his pockets and nods. "Aye," he agrees. "Some things it does."
He glances down again at Lena, at the bare shoulders and the shawl tied around her waist. "Are ye warm enough?" he asks her. "We can go back, if ye like."
"I'm alright, at least for now," Lena says, glancing up at him from the luminous water. "All the hiking and the climbing, don't feel the night chill so much." She considers him in silence, and then asks, "Did it help?"
"It…." He considers. "It settled it, I suppose. I've chosen a change. I've given it to Her. It's sealed; I won't turn back on it now." Shine lifts his head to take a deep breath of the night sea air. "I'm not much looking forward to the morning, but I'm settled, at least."
He looks at Lena again. "And yourself? Do ye feel ye may be seen?"
"I'm not sure I know what that's supposed to feel like," Lena says, turning away from the jellyfish to look up at him fully. As she stands there in her ruined ballgown, shoulders bare under the moonlight, there's no artifice in her expression - nothing intended to entice or persuade or warn away. "You know more than I. Do you think She might see me now?"
Shine surveys her for a long moment occupied only by the sighing of the water. At length he says, "If I'm honest, I expect She's seen ye from the very first. She could hardly have missed ye. - With all you've done for the fleet, I mean.
"I think it matters more that ye decided ye wanted to be seen, and told Her so. Do ye feel that, at all?"
Lena takes a breath and then slowly lets it out. She nods. "Not by just anyone. But by Her."
Then there's a sudden distance in her gaze, as something else catches her attention. She winces. "I should probably head back, or I'll need to climb back down. The Sea, I respect, but the fel, I have to control."
Shine nods courteously and turns at once. He gestures toward the rock's edge, where her rune-circle waits below. "I'll meet ye in the more mundane way. Unless ye wish to walk back alone? I'd be concerned for your finding the path among the rocks, but if ye believe ye have it, then I wouldn't like to press company on ye, if ye mean to be alone wi' your thoughts."
"I don't prefer to be alone," Lena says immediately, and then shifts slightly away from him. "I'll wait below, and I'd be happy of the company back."
She doesn't wait for him to respond, and instead simply vanishes. There's a spurt of fel flame from the rock where she was just standing, and then Lena is below, in the shimmering circle of fel energy, looking up at him.
There is the patient scrape and shift of boots on rock, and then Shine is making his careful way down the uneven step-scramble.
"It is, I concede," he says as he arrives, "a dramatic way to make an exit, as well as convenient. Well. For a given definition of 'convenient'." He smiles wryly.
Lena laughs, stepping out of the circle, which is already beginning to fade behind her. "I've got to think ahead, to use it properly. It's not like a mage can - how they just skip through the air." She tilts her head, turning back towards the house. "But then, maybe there's nothing so wrong about having to plan for the future."
"No," agrees Shine, following a pace behind her. "More of us could stand to do more of it, I should think. I'm out of practice. Mind that step there — foot on that rock, to the right."
Lena gives a quick hum of acknowledgment, taking the indicated step safely, and continues. "But you know what they say about plans, and contact with the enemy - or um, maybe the world. I try to think just a step or two ahead, where I'm going, where I might go. And still there's always surprises - you've got to be flexible to make the best of them." Lena glances over her shoulder with a quick, playful grin that might imply she's very flexible. "Never would've thought I'd end up going to all these noble weddings, for one."
Shine laughs comfortably. "Oh, aye, I agree. Adaptable. Ye move with the ship, and ye may have a course in mind but the wind can change at any time." He pauses and then adds dryly, "I should endeavor to use fewer nautical metaphors. Plays to the stereotype, doesn't it? And just how many noble weddings have ye been to?
"Oh, I don't know, I think the nautical stuff's pretty charming - no reason not to remind folk who you are," Lena says, and then follows up quickly with, "Three, so far. There was Lord Mordecai and Lord Colson, then Lord and Lady Fallon, and now Lord Bertrand and Lady Priscilla. So many, it's starting to become a pattern, wouldn't you say?"
"What would the pattern be?" Shine wonders. "That people keep getting married? That you keep receiving invitations? That the food and drink are usually pretty fine, and worth going for those alone?" He flashes a lopsided grin.
Lena laughs. "Maybe all of the above, but I was sort of meaning the middle one. It's starting to feel less like a fluke and more like I'm… I don't know… accepted? As someone noble people associate with socially, on purpose? The first time, I was definitely just one of the mercenaries, come for a nice party. But then the Fallons' one was more exclusive, and I… I don't know that I have the right lines down yet, for the role I seem to be moving into. And Lady Fallon's being a great help, but it's easier to play the amusing outsider than it is to fit."
Shine's smile fades, his expression turning serious. "I think by now it's plain that you're accepted. That is — ye may not always feel it, I do know, and it may not be by everyone because some of them are a bloody high-nosed lot, but you've met enough of the right sort and appealed to them the right way. In the Fallons' case, I don't know if ye came in with Fallon via Cobalt or Captain Tyrrell or both, but once ye'd proved such a value to the fleet, that's the key to his respect. And you're a lady, so he'll treat ye like one.
"And all ye need for the Duchess' respect is to have Fallon's, and hers as a currency is worth twice as much as his in the loftier circles. By 'loftier circles' I do mean people like the Aspenwoods, but ye were in with them before even the Fallons, because of your Cobalt connections, I expect. So however ye chose your path, ye seem to have made smart choices, and shouldn't be surprised when they take ye smart places. Lady Fallon, in particular, can open a lot of doors for ye."
His lone eye scans the path ahead. "Cobalt, in short, seems to have been a fine choice at the first, if ye meant to make your way." He glances at her again. "As to fitting, that I'd guess is subjective. Some of them fit like they were stamped from a mold. Some of them are oddities themselves — Fallon, for one. Lady Alaisa. Captain Tyrrell. The trick is to get to a point where ye look like one of those: an 'eccentric' rather than an outsider." His smile slants back to life. "It helps if, as in Fallon and Tyrrell's case, ye don't give a shit about talk. But that's harder for one of us. Especially when you're still making your way. Must be nice, aye?"
"Must be nice," Lena agrees, and then follows with, "I've not been made to feel unwelcome. I mean, not at any of the parties, and not at this last one. It's more a thing in me, I think, looking at myself and seeing the others and… how can I explain. It's easy to learn what fork to use at a fancy plate. It's harder to learn what exact level of amiable is acceptable, and what's too much or too little. What sorts of things you can say and what you can't, or maybe you can, but only if you've got the right tone and know the right people." Lena smiles. "At the end of it, I might have just had a little touch of 'to hell with it all' and went with Halliday Bris… um, Tyrrell's idea of social niceties. She's wonderful, by the way, nothing against her. But she's the sort who doesn't see why you can't just tell a person a thing, if you want them to know it. Maybe all it comes to is I'm just establishing what sort of oddity I am."
Lena follows in silence for another stretch, and then says, "Actually, not all of that is true. There were some there who definitely had no welcome for me. But that sort of thing - I'm used to it. I just sidestep, don't engage. Sometimes that's a price you pay for being who you are, you know? It's not a thing to fight or change, just… set aside. I don't think it's exactly the same as Fallon or Tyrrell not giving a shit. It's just recognizing what to… choose not to feel about."
"Who made ye unwelcome?" Shine asks, indignation and suspicion both in his tone. Was it anyone he knows? Should he have it addressed? Or would he simply have Thoughts to offer on the guilty parties?
"No one, because I knew who to avoid," Lena says with a faint smile. "It's only a problem if I don't figure it out in time. But if you really want to know… for instance, there was a group of kaldorei attending. It's not something to fix, though. When you make certain choices, you've got to deal with the consequences. There are people in the world who'd just see what I showed you tonight, with the fel, and say I ought not exist. And I have to be alright with that, because it's a valid view. The fel is dangerous."
Shine studies her for a time. "I do not see," he says finally, "that the one follows from the other. Choices bring consequences, of course. But that seems a vicious leap to make." He shrugs. "But I can't say I know many kaldorei beyond Sentinel Nightvine. Here, step left, between those two." He points to indicate the sandy gap between two stones. "And knowing when not to engage is a skill more people could stand to learn."
"That's the truth," Lena says, moving in between the two stones and turning to watch Shine follow. "Reckon we'd have a bit less war, if that were so. Nightvine… she was at the Onslaught mission, I think, but I don't know her well. She is Cobalt, though, if I remember right."
"She might have been," Shine agrees. "At the Onslaught mission, that is. I'm fair certain she's Cobalt, aye. She came to us with Miss Westwind. Additional security sent by… Morningdew, I believe." He crosses between the stones as well, his gaze on the ground now rather than Lena. "I am told she was invaluable during… the Nightmare crisis." His voice has dropped entirely back into his smooth, unperturbable footman's register, no emotion attached whatsoever.
"Morningdew," Lena says, and Shine doesn't need to be looking at her to hear the disapproval in her voice. She does not elaborate. Instead, she says, "I'm afraid I didn't contribute much, for the Nightmare. Just helped keep the sleepers in place. I have… a sort of policy. I don't trust things talking at me in my own head that I can't see. I've heard a lot of Cobalt answered, though, so I don't doubt it. How were things, here?"
Shine is silent for several paces. He points out a next step to Lena without speaking, still gazing at the ground, and then says, "An ugly business, from what I know. I wasn't privy to it, myself. I was — they had to shut us away in empty rooms. To be sure we wouldn't harm anyone."
Lena takes the next step as directed, but then stops to turn back to him. "Happened to a lot of people. Not a power one could fight."
Shine nods at his feet. "Fallon said the same. Still, it might've been — I frightened one of the housemaids badly. I don't like to think of it." After another two paces, though, he casts a slight, sly glance up at Lena and says dryly, "At least I didn't bite Fallon, though."
Lena laughs, and then looks at him in a kind of horrified amazement. "Was that a risk?"
He arches his brow at her. "Ye didn't hear? Miss Westwind did it. They were trying to bundle her into a blanket to get her into a safe room, and from what I hear she just… latched into his arm like a lamprey." He can't keep a straight face at the image.
"Really. I can just imagine. Wrapped up in a blanket and snapping like an angry cat," Lena giggles. "I'll not bring it up to her, for sure. For her dignity's sake."
"Or for fear of being bitten," Shine observes solemnly, and then cants another smile at Lena. "She's a good girl. The pair of you are friends, aye? From Cobalt, or before then?"
"Cobalt," Lena nods. "I didn't really know her till the Northrend campaign, and then we fought together… cross the whole continent, I suppose. The Fjord to the citadel in Icecrown. Biting aside, and prickly as she is sometimes, she's somebody you can trust." Lena smiles fondly, with a touch of sadness in it. "One thing I'll miss from Cobalt, though I reckon I'll see her around Fallon House, regardless."
"I imagine you will. They've taken a fondness — himself and Her Grace — and I don't believe either of them lets go lightly. I know he doesn't, at least. Step up, just there, mind the edge." He tilts his head again to watch her with his lone eye. "Will ye miss Cobalt a great deal, do you think?"
Lena steps up and holds back a hand, as if to help him up after. He probably doesn't need any help, particularly not from an weary woman in a disheveled formal dress, but it's a gesture. "Yeah. I expect I will. I've met a lot of people there I don't mean to lose track of. Not just Ralaea, but Ben and Cressidha and Colson and a number of others. They're a good group of people, by and large." Lena looks at him more carefully. "You mentioned thinking on it, joining up. Still thinking on that part?"
Shine does actually take her hand; he does not seem to need any help, let alone from a weary woman in a disheveled formal dress, but perhaps the gesture is a courteous acknowledgment of her offer. He lets go as soon as he's made the step. "Not thinking, no." He glances back in the direction of the shrine. "I mean to give my notice in the morning."
Lena follows his gaze, and then makes a quiet sound of realization. "Well. I'm glad, then. Fleet'll be tied that much closer to Cobalt, and maybe I won't have to miss them." She tilts her head, looking at Shine. "Should I tell you what to expect? I could answer any questions you might have in advance, I reckon. I was with them for over two years."
"I'd be grateful," he says. "I know Ference and Hazan are both officers, and I know of Captain Sparkwire, but not the lady personally. Is there anything I ought to know about any of them before I meet with them? Anyone I ought to be wary of?"
"Hm. Sparkwire's not someone to worry over - she's the sort who wants to like everybody. If you want to win her over, probably talk about engineering or something. It sounds a stereotype, but it'd work. And the other one's Paluuva, a draenei anchorite. I can't imagine her making a barrier to somebody like you." Lena smiles. "She's a WEB priestess, even, so connected to me and Lord Tyrrell even out of Cobalt. As for wariness… I'd be a bit careful of the draenei and the kaldorei in general? The draenei tend to be really into the Light, for instance, and a lot of the kaldorei are pretty set in their ways."
Shine nods thoughtfully, clasping his hands behind his back. "I can manage not to insult a Light-follower, I believe," he says dryly. "Are there any of the kaldorei in particular who might be troublesome? Is there anyone you recommend I should know?"
"Who I recommend to know… well, you know Nightvine already. Probably Auralind Mistwalker. She's a bit stern, but fair, and she used to be one of the lieutenants. And… Lode Fire-Eyes. She's odd, but reliable. Iphindra, maybe, but keep an eye on her. She's kind, but kind of… I don't know how to describe. Child-like? I never did figure out what her deal was." Lena pauses, then continues, "I've mostly steered clear of the rest. I don't like to spread bad tales of anyone."
Shine nods. "And anyone else apart from the kaldorei I should know? Fallon's spoken of… Silentstep? The scout? I've not met the man, but I know he's worked wi' the fleet as well."
"Sil?" Lena asks, and then chuckles. "Yes, sure, he'd be a good person to know - been with Cobalt since the very beginning. I think he is just about as well-intentioned as he acts, which is maybe rarer than he'd believe in the world. Oh, and Mayellen Hazan as well. She's a dear friend of mine, a warlock - she and a cluster of her own friends have joined up not so long ago. They've made an investigative team, if that's something you might be interested in."
Shine raises his eyebrow. "An investigative team? I didn't know Cobalt ran such a thing." He muses for a moment. "I may be better-suited just as muscle, at least until I have the lie of the land," he says at last, a little wryly.
After another moment, he asks, "Are they all young people? Cobalt's humans? I know Sir Atley's of an age wi' Fallon, and there's Ference of course but he's not active duty. As to the rest…?"
"Twenties and early thirties, mostly?" Lena says, tilting her head in thought. "I'm twenty-seven, myself, and there's a fair few older and younger. Hm, there's the musician I think's considerably older, too, Silversong. But you're not… thirty-five is still kind of early thirties, I'd say. I don't think you'd stick out."
He nods and flashes her a smile. "I didn't mean to claim advanced age, I beg your pardon. But aye, good." He checks their route again, then gives her a curious sidelong look.
Lena catches the look and raises an eyebrow. "What? Something else in mind?"
He shakes his head and looks away again. "We go up the slope there," he says, and indicates. "Your shoes await." Another faint smile.
Lena smiles back, with maybe a hint of a question in it, before she moves up the slope, gathering her skirt in one hand. "I suppose one of the things I liked about Cobalt was the freedom. They do assign folk sometimes, like for squads, but otherwise one can take or not take work as you like. Work with many or few or alone. They have faith in their people, to manage their own selves."
He nods thoughtfully, climbing behind her. "I like to work with a group, but I may as well prove myself where I can. There's plenty of work, I assume?"
"Never found a lack of it myself," Lena nods. "Once they'd made their reputation, more requests come in than a single company can handle. Especially now, with all the disasters and the fighting with the Horde."
Shine's expression darkens and he gazes straight ahead at nothing. "Aye," he says. "Well. Past time I got back to that, I suppose."
Lena moves on ahead, reclaiming her shoes where they rest by the shore, before she looks back at him. "Not everyone needs to fight all the time. But yes. The fight's still there."
"I agree," he says, stopping to wait with his hands in his pockets. "I daresay most people should be spared the fight. But for that to be so, those of us who can, should."
"Those of us who can," Lena echoes as she straightens, reaching for his arm again as she settles the shoes on her feet. "Back to the house? Or will you stay out a while longer?"
He gives his arm readily for her balance, and looks up at the sky. "I believe I might stay a while longer. But I can walk ye back to the house, if ye like."
Lena considers the offer, and then shakes her head. "I've taken enough of your time, when you meant to be alone. There's no danger between here and the door - and even if there were, I could handle it."
Shine smiles at her. "I have no doubt but that you could. Still, the gentlemanly thing, to offer. And you didn't take any of my time I wasn't willing to give." He steps back courteously. "I'm sorry about your dress. Give it to Moirin in the morning and she'll see what she can make of it, aye?"
"Nothing damaged I wasn't willing to lose," Lena says with an answering smile, taking a step back toward the house. "I'll do that, and see what new thing she might make of it. I'll see you around?"
He nods, a polite inclination of head and shoulders not quite a bow. "Ye will. For a time, at least. Good night."
"Good night," Lena makes a slight curtsey in response, a touch of amusement in her smile, and then she turns to make her way back to Fallon House.