(2024-10-05) News from the Mailbox

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Author:	inkie
Summary:	Sintha Fallon and Silvestre Silentstep run into one another in Stormwind, and catch up on all the latest hot gossip. Well, Sintha catches up, as Silvestre obligingly dishes. You never know when Milady Moth is listening.
Rating:	T for Teen

The persistent, acrid smell of char that has hung like a veil over Stormwind City for the last months seems finally to be lifting — or perhaps it's only been driven back temporarily by the west wind that comes tumbling out of the Harbor and racing through the streets, carrying with it an illusory promise of summer's long-vanished warmth. That ghost of the brighter season seems to have lured people out into the autumn sunlight today, and the streets are fuller than they have been in over a month. Vendors hawk food on every streetcorner in the Trade District, and a pair of dwarves standing on crates wave Brewfest fliers and souvenirs and cajole passers-by loudly.

A dark-haired young woman in a high-necked navy blue jacket with gold buttons — vaguely reminiscent of a naval uniform — and slim navy blue trousers tucked into riding boots gives the noisy dwarves a wide berth and weaves her way across the square to an ice cream seller's cart. It hasn't been ice cream weather in a while; might as well take advantage.

She's not the only one with that notion, and a little queue has formed before the cart. As she waits, she turns to survey the crowds around her with a sharp, golden-eyed gaze, and tucks her windblown hair impatiently behind one ear.

In the crowd and on the approach, there is a young man with light brown hair who Sintha might find familiar, though they haven't spoken in some time. He's dressed fairly casually himself, in boots, trousers and a loose linen shirt — there is no uniform or uniform-likeness on display today. He makes for the ice cream line, seeming lost in thought, and doesn't notice her until he is standing just behind her.

"Sintha?" Sil says in surprise, glancing over her smart dress. "Didn't expect to see you out here."

Sintha turns a dazzling smile on him as though she is not at all surprised to see him. (Maybe she isn't; maybe she is.) "Of course not, no one ever expects me. It's part of my mystique. What flavor will you get? And oughtn't you be on a ship right now? My brother will be awfully surprised to learn you nipped back to Stormwind for ice cream."

Sil laughs. "Northrend campaign's over, and I was just contracted for that through Cobalt. I have been spending time out there to help, but there's been things I need to see to back in Stormwind, too. Anyway, Lena's out on your brother's ship, so folks can nip back and forth for ice cream if they want."

(As long as Lena keeps killing naga so she doesn't run out of shards, that is.)

"What flavor… I hadn't decided yet," Sil considers seriously. "Maybe lemon? What are you picking?"

"You haven't decided yet? Gosh. Getting in line without a strategy in place?" Sintha shakes her head with faux disapproval, and then brushes her hair out of her face again a little irritably. "I am going to get ginger. What things?"

"I decided already for ice cream," Sil says with a grin. "So I've got a strategy, just not all the details worked out. And anyway, it's good to be flexible. What if they're out of ginger and you didn't have a backup plan?" He raises a hand. "No, don't tell me, I bet you've already scouted all the options out and have a ranking system. And you know, seeing… people, keeping an eye on the murder case… why're you here? Is the 6th on leave?"

"My backup is black cherry, and if they're out of that, strawberry." Sintha smiles sweetly at him. "And yes, as a matter of fact, we are. After the Gilnean debacle, the powers-that-be decided we deserved a lovely vacation in scenic Stormwind City, and all the ice cream we can eat."

"Debacle?" Sil says, looking at her in concern. "I know it didn't go as planned blight and all that. But if you look at the bright side, we got Gilneas back in the Alliance out of it. Or, well, Gilneans. But really the kingdom is the people, don't you think?"

"Oh, my gosh, aren't you just the most earnest?" Sintha says, breathy and wide-eyed. "Honestly a marvel in this day and age, I wonder how you —"

"NEXT," repeats the ice cream vendor, eyeing her direly.

"Oh!" Sintha wheels around. "My gosh, I'm so sorry, I would like two scoops of the ginger please, in one of those… what are they called, the sort of waffly-looking cones there?"

"… Waffle cones?" The vendor looks dubious.

"Yes, please and thank you!" Sintha beams at him and begins counting coins in the palm of her hand.

Sil holds his peace until Sintha has her ice cream and the vendor turns to him.

"NEXT," repeats the ice cream vendor, daring Sil to hold up the line.

"The lemon, one scoop?" Sil says, almost like he's asking permission. Then he adds, "In a waffle cone, that sounded good."

Once ice cream is acquired and paid for, Sil steps aside from the line and looks to Sintha. "Want to wander a bit while you're eating? Or have you got somewhere urgent to get to?"

"Really, Silvestre," Sintha says, and tosses her hair, which wasn't really a necessary gesture as the wind was already doing it for her. "Have you forgotten I'm on vacation?" She angles her cone for Maximum Ice Cream access and immediately gets a dab of it on her nose. She is unsuccessful in licking it off, though she makes the effort, and at last she just wipes the back of her hand across it and sniffs disdainfully. "Anyway — what are you and all your Cobalt friends up to, hm? Well, and I suppose your other friends, as well, if you have friends outside of Cobalt."

"I have a lot of friends, in a lot of places," Sil says cheerfully, taking a lick of his own ice cream. "Though a lot of them do end up joining Cobalt Company. Let's see, who do we know in common… do you know Ivrianna Atley?"

"Do I?" Sintha laughs. "I was her cousin one summer."

"You… were?" Sil raises an eyebrow. "How does that work?"

"Oh," says Sintha airily, and eats some ice cream. "I'm afraid she wasn't feeling quite herself."

Sil stares at Sintha for a moment, and then says, "Oh. I see. It was an SI… uh, exciting summer, I gather. Anyway, she's having another baby, so that's the news there. I've been spending a fair amount of time over at their place in Eastvale since the Cataclysm. A little less lately, due to other things."

"Another one?" exclaims Sintha, and rolls her eyes. "Stars above, who does the poor girl think she is, the Duchess Esprit? How some women manage…." She shudders expressively, and then turns her bright attention to Sil again over her ice cream cone. "What other things? Don't be cryptic at me, Silvestre, you are awful at it."

"Well, you know I never did try to join an exciting group," Sil says with a grin. "There've been a few other things. I've been sort of popping over to the middle of the ocean on the regular, to help with the naga situation. I'm doing what I can to help out with the Graufowl murder case. And I'm courting Cressidha Aspenwood."

Sintha makes a dramatic show of nearly dropping her ice cream cone in astonishment. (She does not actually drop it. Sintha would never drop an ice cream cone.)

"Silvestre Aidan Parrish Westry Silentstep! How very something of you! Cressidha Aspenwood? Tides ha'mercy." Her impression of her brother would be spot-on if not for the italics.

She fans herself theatrically with her free hand. "Cressidha Aspenwood," she repeats. "Stars above, I cannot wait to tell Shay." She pauses for a lick of ice cream and looks Sil over. "Are you sure? Does she know?"

This may, in fairness, be a reasonable question to ask a man who claims to be courting Cressidha Aspenwood.

Sil, for once, does not look uncertain or embarrassed at Sintha's carrying-on. Instead, he just smiles, quietly confident. "For one thing, those are not my middle names, and no I'm not going to tell you what is. And yes, I am sure, and yes, she knows. We're both very plainspoken about it. It's early days yet, of course, but… they're good early days."

"Of course they're not your middle names," says Sintha loftily. "They're Shay's, which means they tend to be applicable in any situation where a man is doing something improbable and-or inadvisable." She licks her ice cream again, her gaze fixed on Sil. "Not that inadvisable applies here, I'm sure." She smiles at him like a cat in cream. A cat in ice cream. "And how swoony, gosh! 'Good early days.' I don't suppose that means anything scandalous? I cannot imagine either of you being scandalous — and much to my relief; there are some things I don't need to imagine, thank you very much — but I do like being surprised by people. It happens so infrequently."

"I'd like to leave you wondering on that," Sil says with a grin. "Only not at the expense of Cressidha's reputation. I would never do anything to harm her in that way, or to embarrass her. It feels, almost, like I ought to keep it all to myself, in case she changes her mind, but… we went to the Darkmoon Faire together, not long ago. As a date. I think it went well."

Sintha stops in her tracks and blinks. "You… sorry, I thought you said you took Cressidha Aspenwood to the Darkmoon Faire."

Sil takes another lick of his ice cream, staring at Sintha steadily. "Is there some reason Cressidha shouldn't go to the Darkmoon Faire?"

She widens her eyes at him. "Not at all, I'm sure. How… ingenious of you, really. I'm sure the expected sort of Aspenwood suitor wouldn't have thought of it." She has another lick of ice cream and then leans toward Sil. "Noblemen, you know? As a species they tend to be terribly… up themselves."

"Yes, well, I think there's a lot of variation in the species in any case," Sil says with a laugh. "I'd hardly compare your brother, for instance, with say… Lord Stoutmantle or Lord Amerith. But I suppose I take your point? I feel like in courting it's better to find things your partner's interested in than to follow any prescribed rules."

"I would hardly compare Lord Amerith with… anything." Sintha makes a face. "And it's not that I don't agree with you, gosh. It's that Society — that's with the capital S, you understand — doesn't. I can't imagine either my brother or Gryan Stoutmantle taking a young lady of gentle breeding to the Darkmoon Faire. So they have that much in common."

She eats some more ice cream and reflects, then waves the cone vaguely. "I can absolutely imagine Lord Amerith taking young ladies there. I rather imagine it's his standard." She surveys Sil cheerfully. "Look at that, you have more in common with Lord Amerith than my brother. Who would have guessed?"

Sil grimaces, but he doesn't seem to be seriously upset. "You do have a way of making a guy see himself in the worst possible light, Lady Sintha. I imagine your brother loves that, too. But who knows? Maybe Lord Amerith is a heck of a date. From rumors, at least, I'd imagine his dates would have no idea what to expect, and that's got to be novel, right?" Sil laughs, and adds, "Besides, it wasn't out of nowhere — it was relevant to my history, after all."

"Making a guy see himself in the worst possible light is my singular gift," Sintha agrees modestly. "I shudder to think of Shay's ego without my wholesome influence. And that's right, your circus career. Did you throw any knives at the lady?" She eats ice cream and watches Sil with bright interest.

"Do you seriously think I would throw knives at Cressidha Aspenwood on our first date?" Sil asks with a grin, mimicking her speaking pattern. He pauses briefly, for effect, before saying, "Yes, yes I did."

Sintha puts her head back and laughs. "Why Silvestre Silentstep. I cannot imagine that the Duchess Aspenwood would approve. How awfully daring of you. One wonders what you'll do for a second outing." She eats some ice cream. "And by one, I mean me."

"I haven't quite figured that out yet," Sil answers with a shrug, and then helps himself to some ice cream. "But whatever it is, it'll have to be something interesting, for both of us. She might have some ideas on that herself, too." Sil glances over to Sintha. "Speaking of courting, I don't suppose you've got your eye on anybody yourself? Or ignore me if that's too personal a question."

"I have got my eye on everyone, all the time," Sintha says conspiratorially, and then laughs. "But not romantically, stars, no! I have never, to be honest, understood the appeal of all that." She makes a face. "Can you imagine? What if someone wanted to, I don't know, take you to the Darkmoon Faire and throw knives at you because they found you attractive? And then there's all the —" She wiggles her fingers inscrutably in front of her mouth. She might mean kissing. She might mean playing the flute. Unclear.

"Doesn't sound like a good time to you?" Sil asks, eyes widening in innocence. "I'll make a note, then, if I ever do another knives show. Lady Sintha does not volunteer. I suppose you've got so much exciting work to do, you probably wouldn't have time for…" Sil makes the same flute-playing gesture, "…in any case, yeah?"

"Absolutely not." She shudders. "It seems to make imbeciles of the cleverest people." Wide-eyed, she reaches out to pat his arm consolingly. "You needn't worry about that, darling, naturally."

"As I'm already an imbecile, you'd say?" Sil says with an amused grin. "And I would say, because I'm clearly being incredibly clever about the whole thing."

"Silvestre, you aren't supposed to say the things out loud, it ruins the fun. You are a fun-ruiner." She sniffs disdainfully at him and then tilts her ice cream cone up to try to drink the melted ice cream from the bottom of it.

"I guess we've all got to find our fun somewhere," Sil says with a laugh, and then he crunches a bit of his waffle cone in a bite. "Has the Vice Admiral been keeping you up to date on the whole undersea apocalypse situation?"

Sintha eyes him suspiciously. "When exactly was the last time you saw the Vice Admiral, as everyone does insist on calling him?"

"What else should I call him? 'Lord Fallon' seems weirdly formal to call him when I'm talking to you. Besides, I mostly know him from the fleet, not the nobility. And 'Siamus' seems weirdly informal for somebody who was my boss," Sil shrugs. "And it might give people ideas, anyway. But to answer your question, um… last time I was on the Lady Blanche? That was about a week ago, just after the whole plane of water business."

"Oh, well then. You are a few days behind the times then, I'm afraid. I believe he's forgotten all about the undersea apocalypse situation. And you are correct, by the way; definitely do not call him Siamus. You could just call him Fallon, as he's forever telling people to do, but naturally that might be awkward in conversation with me, as I also happen to be a Fallon, even if not the Fallon." Sintha begins delicately to eat her waffle cone, crunching around the edge in a neat, descending ring.

"Yeah, that would be kind of weird in this conversation — do you like being called Fallon? It's just as accurate for you," Sil considers, crunching another bite of his own cone, as the italics infect his brain. "But wait, what's happened? Has something happened? The undersea apocalypse was kind of a big deal, I thought."

Sintha rolls her eyes and points her half-eaten ice cream cone at Sil. "Correct: the undersea apocalypse was a big deal. And then the Vice Admiral learned that his wife is carrying twin boys, and naturally you know how noblemen are about these things. It is absolutely the event of the year as far as my brother is concerned, never mind about some silly old dragon, and I doubt he's been talking of anything else to anyone in proximity. I'll be surprised, honestly, if his crew hasn't put him overboard by the time they get back here. It's awfully tiresome."

She crunches waffle cone vengefully.

"Twin… ah," Sil notes the violence with which Sintha's waffle cone is demolished. "I imagine he'd have been pretty pleased if they were girls as well. I mean, their firstborn's a girl, right? And surely they wouldn't — people get real excited about babies in general, seems like."

"They do, don't they?" Sintha tosses her hair out of the wind's fingers again irritably. "For some reason. It isn't as though babies are interesting. They chiefly seem to manufacture noise and smells. Shay in particular is an absolute idiot about babies for some reason, and he absolutely dotes on my niece. To hear him tell it, you'd think the creature was Aegwynn and Thoradin resurrected as one. When at the moment her intelligence can only be expressed in very loud monosyllables."

She pauses to consider. "So Shay probably sees himself reflected in her, I suppose. A meeting of the minds."

Sil laughs at this characterization of Siamus. "Might be. I've spent some time around babies lately — not your niece, though I imagine I'll meet her someday — and I don't mind 'em. Sure they make noise and smells, but they're also so earnest — they haven't learned yet how to be otherwise. I think it's sweet." Sil pauses, and adds a little more seriously, "They're so full of potential, too. Sort of makes you want to protect them, not let the same things shift their path as shifted yours, you know? Little things that push people off in the wrong directions."

"Things that shifted m– oh. Well, yes, of course, that." Sintha considers the last of her waffle cone. "As to earnest, Ery chiefly seems angry most of the time." She eats the cone-end contempatively, and says with an unladylike mouthful, "I f'pofe atsh how you know feeve a Fallon."

She swallows and brushes her palms together to whisk off stray crumbs. "Anyway Shay does dote on her. I think he's probably a marvelous father. When he's home." After a little silence, she adds, "I just hope he won't forget her when his sons are born. Men do get terribly excited about sons."

Sil crunches through the rest of his own cone, listening to Sintha. He wipes his own hand carelessly on a pants leg and says, "Wonder if that's part of why Sylvie was so vicious as a kid — making sure our parents wouldn't get too excited about the son who came after. Well. Sylvie had a lot of problems that weren't down to her being a girl, I think, but maybe that was part of it."

"You would be surprised by the number of ladies I know who had — or have — wretched relationships with their fathers purely on account of not being boys. Although I do believe your sister was… a special case." Sintha shrugs blithely. "But who knows?"

"Guess we never will," Sil says with another shrug. "Anyway, how it worked out for my parents with two boys and a girl, they lost all three heirs. I'm sure Lord and Lady Fallon will manage their situation a lot better. And if not, you'll be there to tell Fallon he's an imbecile."

"Oh, I would do that anyway," Sintha says virtuously. "It's important to keep him humble."

Sil laughs. "See? Nothing to worry about. He can't forget Ery if there's lots of folk around to make sure he doesn't."

Sintha nods thoughtfully and tilts her head. "I ought to teach Ery that her father is an absolute jellyfish, and then she can tell him so herself, as well."

"That would take out the middle person," Sil grins. "What does that mean, anyway? Is it a saying in Kul Tiras, or is it a Lady Sintha special?"

Sintha tilts her head at him. "A 'Lady Sintha special'? I couldn't possibly be the first Kul Tiran to call someone a jellyfish. But in Shay's case, it is the 'absolute' that is critical. Shay Fallon is the epitome of jellyfishdom, the quintessential jellyfish, the ne plus ultra of jellyfish, if you will."

"Alright, alright, I get it," Sil says with another laugh, raising his hands in surrender. "Ne plus ultra of jellyfish, absolutely clear what that means." Then he takes a step back resting his hands in his pockets. "And as far as titles go, I suppose I'm not much of a mailbox anymore. Of course, if you wanted more news about people, you could've come down to the beach yesterday — I know you're not Cobalt, but I would've invited you if I'd thought on it."

"I hardly think," says Sintha loftily, "that a mailbox gets to decide whether or not it is a mailbox. But what about the beach? You know I love a beach, I am wounded absolutely that you did not think of me, Silvestre. For… whatever it is."

Sil raises an eyebrow. "Fine, then, you tell me when I'm not a mailbox. As for the beach, it was a Cobalt party down in Stranglethorn. Let's see, who would you know… the Atleys were there with their kid, Cap Jo and her fiance… oh, and Arric with his horse."

Sintha stops, wide-eyed. "Arric! Arric was there? And Win-Win? Well now I am crushed that I wasn't invited. Gosh, Silvestre. He's only my oldest friend."

"Okay, okay, next time there's a Cobalt party, I'll invite you," Sil says with a laugh. "I didn't really know he'd be there till he was there, though. Arric's a great guy — he helped me out recently with a bit of trouble in Elwynn — but that horse is something else."

"Well he's a Tirasian, obviously. Shay is hoping to breed him with some of our stock; he is rather magnificent. Win-win, that is, not Arric. And yes, Arric is a great guy. I adore him absolutely. What sort of trouble have you been having in Elwynn, Silvestre Mairead Silentstep?" Sintha eyes him sternly.

"Well, more trouble for a friend. Comes down to that murder case I mentioned? The… let's say witness, Roz, has been staying with the Aspenwoods, came out to Goldshire for an evening. Somebody slipped her something in a drink, and all of a sudden some helpful people wanted to carry her off to safety." Sil raises his eyebrows at that. "Priestess from Cobalt and I got her to actual safety at Arric's — wasn't sure where else to go. I didn't know him that well, but he went full-on protective, soon as he saw the situation. He was a lifesaver, maybe literally."

Sintha does her best breathless-starry-eyes. "Gosh, yes, that is Arric utterly. He is the most gallant gentleman, and an absolute hero in a pinch. The Aspenwoods have been hosting a murder witness? How awfully… interesting of them! Whyever for, I wonder?"

"Oh, it was mostly because of Bir– Lord Bertrand. Had you heard he and Arric were investigating that whole mess in Westfall, before Sentinel Hill burned down?" Sil asks. "It was a Westfall murder, and Birdie knew Roz. Lot of Cobalt folk got involved after, 'cause the militia were saying they thought Roz did it, which didn't seem right."

"Roz… Cobalt Roz? Would this be Rozalin, Miss Coit's… former friend?" Sintha makes wide eyes at Sil.

"Yeah, that's the one. They were together for a while, I think, but Lena's not been involved at all," Sil nods. "Reckon they split at some point, or she would be."

"I should reckon they did," says Sintha. "I believe that had something to do with Shay's insufferable meddling. He suspected that Rozalin was a bad business for a lady with Miss Coit's particular ambitions." She purses her lips. "I think I shan't mention any of the business to him until we know… well, I assume you're confident that she's innocent?"

"Oh, I'm pretty confident she's innocent, yeah," Sil nods. "She wouldn't kill her own folks. Roz is kind of a rough-edged girl, and she rubs people the wrong way sometimes, but she's not a murderer like that. I mean, also the evidence doesn't add up for it. She just came home and found 'em and freaked out because, really, who wouldn't?"

Sintha narrows her eyes thoughtfully and studies Sil. "Hmm. Indeed. How absolutely gruesome for her, I suppose. Lovely of Lord Bertrand to take her in, and of him and Arric to investigate. And how are Captain Jo and her… fiance, did you say? That wouldn't be that dreamy mechanic fellow from the 7th, would it? I had no idea they were betrothed!"

"Yeah, Siege Engineer Kerlo Quarterflash?" Sil smiles. "She seems real happy about that whole situation, so I think they're doing well. I wonder if that means Cobalt's gonna work more alongside the 7th, now she's got motivation to draw a little closer."

"Gosh," says Sintha speculatively. "Cobalt and the 7th? Well, I suppose Lord Ference does know the High Commander, and you all made yourselves useful at Wintergarde."

Sil's good cheer fades a little at the mention of Wintergarde, but he just says, "Yeah, I mean, I hope so. They took down that necropolis once and for all, so that's something. Maybe we'll do more stuff like that." He doesn't mention any other operations in the Dragonblight where Cobalt might have had a scout work alongside the 7th.

Sintha glances away, brushing her hair back from her cheek again, and does not mention them either.

"Well," she says briskly after a short and totally-not-awkward silence. "What will you be doing next, then? Does Cobalt have plans? Or will you be occupied full-time with courting?"

Sil smiles again, letting the completely non-awkward silence disappear into the past. "I don't think that's really a full-time occupation, though maybe for Cressidha it should be. Honestly, I'm not sure right now. I think things are pretty well wrapped up undersea and in Hyjal. I've been just doing small things, helping folk in the wake of all those earthquakes this past spring. I'm not really looking to head to war at Tol Barad, but maybe if Cobalt takes on something else I can volunteer… what about you? I guess you probably can't say what the 7th will do next, but what about your plans when you're stuck in Stormwind area?"

"I'd hardly say stuck," Sintha says airily. "I live in the Stormwind area, darling. And I'm in training, since our unit's reorganization. I am, in fact, very busy. Can't you tell?"

"Terribly busy," Sil says with a laugh. "Just think of all the ice cream flavors you haven't tried yet. But yeah, seriously, I know the training regimen for the 7th is pretty brutal. Let me know if you're ever free and want to go by Bruuks or somewhere for a pint. Maybe I could introduce you to some new friends."

Sintha looks faintly startled. She steals a sidelong glance at Sil and then looks away again. "Well," she says. "I suppose that would be nice."

Sil smiles affably. "Then just send me a note if you've got a free evening sometime. Always good to have more friends, right? Even for folk in the 7th Legion."