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| Details |
| Author: | Luridel |
| Summary: | Bertrand stops by to visit Zath at his apartment in Stormwind and hear about what actually happened in Gilneas. Worgen. Worgen happened. ~3300 words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Bertrand knocks briskly. He's dressed in casual clothes, no weapons in sight.
Tyrrell comes to the door after a moment; he is dressed severely all in black, as per usual. He inclines his head solemnly. "Thank you for coming," he says, and steps aside so Bertrand can enter.
[Tyrrell]: Can I get you some tea?
Bertrand closes the door behind him. "Hey, Captain. Sure, sounds good."
Tyrrell moves to the tiny little kitchenette in the one-room apartment and pours from an already-warmed kettle.
Bertrand takes a seat, looking around curiously.
Tyrrell brings over a tray after a few moments with milk, sugar cubes, and a few plain biscuits. The room is small, scrupulously clean, and absent almost any personal decoration.
[Tyrrell]: Here you are. I'll let you prepare it as you prefer.
Tyrrell takes his own cup of straight black tea and sits.
[Bertrand]: Thanks.
Bertrand drops a sugar cube into his tea and stirs it.
[Tyrrell]: First let me say how honored I am that you allowed me to attend your wedding.
[Bertrand]: Allowed? I'm lucky you could make it! I wasn't sure if I'd be able to reach your unit or my own, but everyone pulled through in time.
[Tyrrell]: Yes, well, in my case it was more that… my deployment was cut tragically short. I am certain you've heard by now about the 7th's disastrous defeat in Gilneas.
Bertrand shakes his head. "I heard it was lost to the Forsaken. Were you there?"
[Tyrrell]: Yes. My unit was part of the 7th's initiative there. It… did not go well.
[Bertrand]: Did you lose anyone?
Tyrrell considers for a moment.
[Tyrrell]: We had no permanent deaths, but… there was… an incident.
Bertrand exhales, looking relieved. "Small mercies. What happened?"
[Tyrrell]: That is why I wanted to meet with you. You were… perhaps the first person outside my unit I dared call a friend, and I did not want you to hear from someone other than me.
[Tyrrell]: I am at present no longer Captain of the 6th E.U. I may or may not be reinstated, pending a… review of events.
[Bertrand]: Ah, hell.
[Tyrrell]: During some down time while we were awaiting further intelligence, I took a brief side trip to address a personal matter. I was searching for the sister of the late Master Sergeant Boles.
Bertrand braces his elbows on the table and folds his arms.
[Tyrrell]: I did not find her - I was to discover later that she had already evacuated - but while I was traveling alone I ran afoul of a pack of feral worgen.
[Tyrrell]: I killed them, but not before one of them managed to … *He hesitates, searching Bertrand's face for signs of understanding.*
Bertrand nods slowly. "The curse?"
Tyrrell nods. He laces his hands together on the table and waits.
[Bertrand]: The kaldorei have something for it, I've heard. You've been?
Tyrrell nods, still not quite meeting Bertrand's eye. "Once I told my unit what had befallen me, they hastened me to Darnassus. I… changed not long after we arrived, and was… restrained and treated."
[Tyrrell]: There were, unfortunately, a number of witnesses to my struggle, and my superiors in the 7th were given… detailed reports.
[Tyrrell]: They are in the process of gathering evidence, character references, and so on in order to make a final decision as to my future place in the 7th… or lack thereof.
Tyrrell looks very bleak at this last.
[Bertrand]: I'll write you one.
Tyrrell exhales. "I would never have presumed to ask, but I know your word would have weight."
[Bertrand]: You've been treated. Good. What - are they trying to - but they've let worgen into the Alliance by now. They're still giving you trouble?
[Tyrrell]: There are no worgen in the 7th. Wyrmbane is… he had enough trouble letting in warlocks.
[Tyrrell]: Wyrmbane is a stubborn, narrowminded man in some ways.
[Tyrrell]: And I believe he is taking it very personally that I am "testing" him a second time.
[Bertrand]: I've been working with a worgen, Lady Kenelly, out in Westfall. She's trying to prove herself to Cobalt Company. I imagine they'll let her in soon.
[Tyrrell]: I met her. Remarkable woman.
[Tyrrell]: I am going to assist her in forming something akin to the W.E.B., but for worgen.
[Tyrrell]: It will be her project, not mine, but I thought she could use my counsel.
Bertrand smiles. "She's a hard-working sort. There's really no madness to her. She transforms when she's in danger whether she wants to or not, but I've never once seen her lose her priorities or harm an ally."
[Tyrrell]: The ritual that the elves perform… it is surprisingly potent.
[Tyrrell]: My mind, for the most part, feels exactly as it was before I was cursed. I do have some… sensory differences now, even in my human form. But I feel like the same man, more or less.
Bertrand nods. He drinks some tea, having remembered that it exists.
Tyrrell is also reminded that it exists, and takes a sip.
[Bertrand]: Why were you traveling alone?
[Tyrrell]: I did not feel that my unit should take responsibility for any knowledge of my… side project.
[Tyrrell]: Whatever consequences would befall me, I wanted to be mine alone. And so they are.
[Bertrand]: Risky, but I guess it wasn't official work, you had the right.
[Tyrrell]: As much as I am trying to build a case that I should be reinstated with the 6th E.U… I will confess that in my heart of hearts, I have my own concerns.
[Bertrand]: Why?
Bertrand eats a tea biscuit.
[Tyrrell]: My ironclad control over the fel is something that I worked at very hard, and the level of control I exerted extended to nearly all areas of my life. Now there is… an element to my being that I cannot fully control. I fear how that might affect my magic.
[Tyrrell]: I have been… experimenting, carefully, but I have been afraid to call on some of the more powerful spells that were once second nature to me.
[Tyrrell]: The most alarming aspect to me is that any time I call upon the fel, even the smallest incantation, the worgen form comes to me, and I cannot stop it.
[Tyrrell]: I do not like to think about what that may mean.
[Bertrand]: Hmm. I suppose you know yourself best. No harm in being cautious. I wonder if there are other worgen warlocks out there you could speak to.
Tyrrell takes another careful sip of tea.
[Tyrrell]: I have not met any, at least not yet.
[Bertrand]: Me neither. I'll keep an ear out.
[Tyrrell]: But I hope you will keep my doubts and concerns between us. I must present a veneer of absolute confidence until my fate is decided.
[Bertrand]: Of course. If I meet another worgen warlock, I'll ask if they'd be willing to compare notes with a colleague, not go into all the details.
Tyrrell nods, then exhales slowly, as though he has laid down something he was carrying. "Now," he says then, picking up his teacup. "How are things in Westfall?"
[Bertrand]: Truly depressing. Homelessness, starvation. I'd like to think Cobalt's made something of an impact helping out with the latter.
Tyrrell frowns slightly, but then nods.
[Tyrrell]: True to the company's roots.
[Bertrand]: It's really disheartening.
[Tyrrell]: It's the sort of thing Cobalt Company was founded to address, hm? Although they have risen in the world, they began as an effort to fill in where Stormwind's armies could not help.
[Tyrrell]: I think you will do well there. You will be able to have the family life you had hoped for, but without giving up the chance to use your skills to serve a good cause.
Bertrand nods. "It's been working out well so far."
[Tyrrell]: And you're finding the balance you seek?
[Bertrand]: Yeah. Say, when did you get married?
[Tyrrell]: January first.
[Bertrand]: Congratulations, Captain. Didn't want to make a big deal out of it?
[Tyrrell]: I am not a man given to … making my affairs widely known. *He smiles wryly.*
[Tyrrell]: But I am told she is happy, by someone I trust. That is all that matters to me.
Bertrand looks at him, clearly puzzled.
[Tyrrell]: I do not need to ask if your bride is happy. It was extremely evident.
[Bertrand]: Can you not tell? Whether Lady Tyrrell is happy?
[Tyrrell]: She is not an easy woman to read, in some ways. But I do not begrudge her that. I would be a hypocrite to do so.
[Bertrand]: Was this a political marriage for you two?
[Tyrrell]: It was… *he considers*
[Tyrrell]: It was the best way for each of us to attain the life we desired.
[Tyrrell]: Also, we know and trust one another well enough. I was her tutor for some time, in Dalaran.
[Bertrand]: Is it working as intended?
[Tyrrell]: I… believe it is working as intended, yes.
[Tyrrell]: There are a few matters still to settle, but on the whole, I think we are satisfied.
[Bertrand]: Well, then I'm happy for you, Captain.
Bertrand raises his teacup in a salute.
Tyrrell raises his cup as well, and takes a sip.
Bertrand drinks more tea.
[Tyrrell]: What are your immediate plans, both at home and at work? That you can divulge at least.
[Bertrand]: I think I'll be working in Westfall for a time yet. There's some sort of murder-conspiracy we're trying to get to the bottom of. Might be Defias remnants involved.
Tyrrell's eyes light with interest, but he doesn't press.
[Bertrand]: At home… Scilla and I are staying at the Vineyard for the time being, but we've hired people and our future house is being built.
[Tyrrell]: Ah? Where will you reside?
[Bertrand]: We're getting a cottage on the southern portion of the Aspenwood lands. Truth be told, it's a bit of a test run to see if we like the lifestyle, or if Scilla would rather move somewhere more populated.
[Tyrrell]: Does she generally prefer city life?
[Bertrand]: I don't think so. She's been a lot happier since she moved out of her apartment - she was staying with the Fallons for a while. She likes painting natural landscapes more than urban ones.
Tyrrell nods.
[Tyrrell]: She is welcome to come and take a look at Drakewatch sometime. A truly unique and breathtaking landscape.
[Tyrrell]: There is a small lake - or perhaps a large pond - on the property, and at a certain time of day, it reflects the blue of the sky and the jagged shapes of the evergreens, surrounded by red rocks - it seems it would be a painter's dream.
Bertrand smiles. "She'll love it. I'll pass it on."
[Bertrand]: And you and your wife are of course welcome to visit the Vineyard again. There aren't usually hundreds of people milling about.
Tyrrell smiles wryly. "Yes, I think I would feel more comfortable under those circumstances."
[Tyrrell]: I think my wife might like to have more friends to ask advice on managing a household and such. It's all rather new to her.
[Tyrrell]: We have our Seneschal who does most of the work, but I think Lady Tyrrell would enjoy having more to do.
[Tyrrell]: I have been unmarried for so long, that I think the Seneschal has presumed herself the lady of the estate. I've had to threaten her direly about her treatment of the actual lady thereof.
Bertrand snags another tea biscuit and crunches on it. "Ah. Hm."
[Tyrrell]: Did you have the chance to meet my wife?
[Bertrand]: At the wedding? Yes, you introduced us.
Tyrrell blinks, then sighs and rubs at his eyes. "I beg your pardon. I think most of that day has erased itself from my memory. I was in rather a state."
Tyrrell takes another sip of tea, then sets down his cup. "Well, you saw then, how agreeable the Lady Tyrrell is. How inconceivable it is that anyone should wish to mistreat her."
Bertrand nods. "She made me think of my little sister, though that might just be because they're both mages."
[Tyrrell]: Ah, the Lady Cressidha? *Zath says, with no discernable facial expression or tone of voice*
[Bertrand]: Yeah, Cress has a similar… like…
Bertrand waves a hand vaguely. "She knows how to sit quietly and look pretty and then all sorts of genius things are going on in her mind and you'd never know until she starts talking about them."
[Bertrand]: That was the impression I got from Lady Tyrrell.
Tyrrell nods thoughtfully.
[Tyrrell]: I do not know your sister well, but she seems to me to be … much less concerned with others' opinions. And she is more careful in her speech. But they are both quite intelligent and independent, to be sure.
[Tyrrell]: Interesting, that the one who is less likely to speak out of turn is also less likely to be mortified by the consequences… *Zath smiles faintly.*
Bertrand laughs. "They might get along. I'll tell Cress. She's been… having a hard time of it lately."
Tyrrell's brows draw together sharply. "She has? Why?" His tone, also, has a sharp edge to it.
Bertrand swallows. "Our brother Amadeus died. He was at the harbor when the tidal wave came in."
Tyrrell sits very still. He was pale before, but now he looks almost ghoulish, transparent.
[Tyrrell]: By the Light… Bertrand. I did not know.
[Bertrand]: Cress asked for some time off of Company work. I don't know that she's ever done that before.
Tyrrell is speechless for quite some time.
Bertrand reaches over and pats Zath's hand. "It was a long obituary that week."
Tyrrell looks at Bertrand's hand as he pats, his expression somewhere between bewildered and stricken.
[Tyrrell]: All this time I've been nattering on about— forgive me, friend.
[Bertrand]: Running a household?
[Tyrrell]: I didn't realize. I've been unforgivably insensitive.
[Bertrand]: No harm done at all. It's - really, we're hardly unique, having lost someone.
[Tyrrell]: Please let me know if there is anything whatsoever I can do for your family. I'm certain there are better people to — do whatever would — Light, I'm so sorry.
[Bertrand]: Scilla's sister Lucy died fighting the Lich King. So we were both… missing a sibling. At the wedding.
[Tyrrell]: Light. Gods. It doesn't matter how many are lost when one of them is yours.
Bertrand looks into his teacup. "That's true," he says.
[Tyrrell]: I hope you know that I am always and forever at your service. For anything you may need.
[Bertrand]: That's very kind of you, Captain. I appreciate it. Are your people well?
[Tyrrell]: As far as I know, yes. I have… been keeping myself somewhat removed. One or two of them have insisted upon hunting me down, however.
[Tyrrell]: They still seem… very much themselves.
Tyrrell blinks. "I'm sorry, did you mean the 6th E.U.?"
[Tyrrell]: I assumed that was what you meant.
Bertrand nods. "Your people."
Tyrrell nods.
[Tyrrell]: I must get used to the idea of having… other people, now, I suppose, as well.
[Bertrand]: You said they were your family, mm? I met your new healer at the wedding. Celaven.
[Tyrrell]: He is doing remarkably well, for being our newest member.
[Tyrrell]: Or… their newest member, as the case may be.
[Tyrrell]: They're already calling Lt. Hall "Captain."
[Bertrand]: Well, I imagine they're obligated to. You'll get your unit back, I'm sure.
Bertrand sounds confident in that.
[Tyrrell]: But they are well enough, despite the recent loss. And Drakewatch itself has remained untouched thus far by Deathwing's rampage, despite its name.
[Tyrrell]: It was, ironically, established as an outpost to watch for black dragons.
[Tyrrell]: Apparently we were looking in the wrong place. *Very dry*
Bertrand laughs. "Not your fault he flew the other way."
Tyrrell smiles a little, seeming warmed by Bertrand's laugh.
[Bertrand]: Can I ask about being a worgen? You said there were sensory changes?
Tyrrell nods. "My sense of smell and hearing seem a bit sharper, even in this form. Not as much as when I… change, but… it's unmistakably different."
[Tyrrell]: Also I can… if I stand close enough to another worgen, I can… tell. Even if we're both in human form.
[Bertrand]: Oh, that's interesting. Like the curse has a scent?
Tyrrell nods.
[Tyrrell]: It's almost subliminal. Not even something I could describe. But it's definitely entering through olfactory channels.
[Bertrand]: Huh.
[Tyrrell]: Also, my appetite has increased. Unfortunately my comfort with public eating has not.
[Tyrrell]: But I used to get by on three small meals a day - now I am forever sneaking off to eat.
Tyrrell doesn't look like he's been eating a lot.
[Tyrrell]: Has Lady Kenelly shared her own experiences? Are they similar?
[Bertrand]: I've not asked her yet.
[Bertrand]: I guess worgen are larger - there's more body mass to sustain. Except you aren't… currently in that shape. Hmm.
Tyrrell nods.
[Tyrrell]: I definitely feel that the form is… there, somehow. Even when I am not using it.
[Tyrrell]: Changing to this form feels like… climbing. Into the other, like falling.
[Bertrand]: Hmm.
[Tyrrell]: It's a bit of a climb, but then I can sit comfortably on the perch. Until something knocks me from it.
[Bertrand]: And that's… feeling threatened, being very upset, and in your case use of the Fel?
Tyrrell nods.
[Tyrrell]: I am better than most at controlling my passions, so I believe I change less due to uncontrolled emotion than some might. But I can see how that would happen. And yes, the fel is so chaotic… it topples me.
[Tyrrell]: If you are curious to see the other form, I could show you. But I also understand if you prefer to see me as you know me.
Bertrand nods. "Do you mind - if I'm going to write something convincing for Wyrmbane, would it be reasonable to ask you to cast something? Just a healthstone, or something small."
[Tyrrell]: Oh, certainly.
Tyrrell stands.
[Bertrand]: Thanks.
Zath conjures a healthstone. He remains in his human form.
[Tyrrell]: Ah. Well, that wasn't enough to trigger it this time. That's heartening.
Bertrand sets his teacup down and looks over at Zath.
Tyrrell tries a few more small incantations.
[Tyrrell]: Hmmm. I do seem to be getting better at this…
Bertrand grins at him. "So it isn't every time."
[Tyrrell]: Would it be all right if I attempted a summoning? Now I'm very curious. It's as though you've calmed me. Or perhaps it's just all the practice…
[Bertrand]: Sure, go ahead.
Tyrrell gets all the way through the summoning without changing, but the moment the imp appears…
Tyrrell changes form.
Tyrrell snarls in frustration.
Bertrand looks between the imp and worgen-Tyrrell.
Tyrrell's imp laughs its little head off. What a cackle it has. Zath dismisses it with a snarl.
[Bertrand]: Ah. That makes sense, honestly.
[Tyrrell]: Does it? *Zath's voice has a deep growl to it, now.*
Tyrrell studies Bertrand carefully for signs of alarm.
Bertrand doesn't look alarmed. He looks thoughtful. "It's a self-defense mechanism."
Tyrrell sits back down. He tries to pick up his teacup, but it doesn't work so great.
[Tyrrell]: Mm. And the sight of a demon puts me on guard.
[Bertrand]: Exactly.
Tyrrell takes a few deep breaths, his luminous blue eyes slitting closed.
[Bertrand]: Even if it's under your control, that takes concentration.
Tyrrell returns to human form.
[Tyrrell]: This was actually quite a useful experiment. Thank you for allowing that.
[Bertrand]: Yeah, of course.
Tyrrell studies him again. "You are holding up very well, it seems. Perhaps you are one of those rare souls who can choose the proper time and place to experience grief?"
[Bertrand]: I can compartmentalize it a fair bit, and Scilla helps. It sneaks up on me sometimes, though.
[Tyrrell]: Compartmentalization is very useful. But I understand. It has been the same for me.
[Tyrrell]: I am glad you have a loving partner to share your sorrows.
[Tyrrell]: I am… trying to accustom myself to that idea.
Bertrand chuckles. "I recommend it."
Tyrrell's mouth turns up at one corner.
Tyrrell settles in for more tea and conversation.