(2025-02-15) Parallels

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Author:	Jessa
Summary:	Ivri and Dane talk about Sintha Fallon and the Tol'vir. Parallels are drawn between the Ramkahen and the farmers of Andorhal.
Rating:	T for Teen

Arc: Season 15: The Sands of Uldum

Atley stomps snow off his boots on the porch outside. It's a crisp February evening in Eastvale. The sun has swiftly set, and a sleepy gloom has settled over the land. He pushes the door open and steps inside, straight from the local mill forge.

Ivrianna is balanced upside down on the back of a chair, doing a one-handed handstand. Her legs are splayed to help her balance, and her hair is tucked up as it always used to be, in a bun held with pointy things.

Atley glances over at her, green eyes flashing with warmth. He stalks closer, though he's never been much of a stalker, and abruptly seizes her by the waist and lifting. "Darkmoon Faire's come to my home, has it?"

Ivrianna makes a strangled 'ack' sort of sound, then laughs. "I was practicing!"

Atley feigns a casual expression, lifting her straight up over his head before vaguely settling her down on his shoulders. "So am I. Wager I'll need more weight. Let's rouse the little ones and get Fang."

Ivrianna wriggles around until she's perched on one of his broad shoulders. One hand rests on his head to help her keep her balance. "What for?"

Atley closes one eye and grasps onto her ankles, trying to peer up at her. "You're too light, is wot' for."
[Atley]: Not much of a workout, issit'.

Ivrianna whiffs a hand through his hair. "Rouse the little ones what for."

Atley scoffs with amusement and lifts her by the bottom of her thighs, carrying her off his shoulders, setting her down feet first on the chair. "We've had enough time," he says. "Wot' do you make of her?"

Ivrianna slides down to sit like a normal person. "I like her," she says. "She's sort of quiet, but she's been through a lot. She really seems to like the kids."

Atley grunts. "She's good with them. Matronly," he even says, before gesturing vaguely towards her. "Don't let me interrupt you're splaying. I like seeing you all bent and twisted."

Ivrianna snorts. "You bend and twist me enough that I believe you." She watches him move around the house. "Things go ok at the forge?"

Atley scoffs briefly with amusement before he shakes his head. "Well 'nuff. Routine repairs and replacements. Few chains." he growls, filling a tankard with their ale keg.

Ivrianna places her palms flat on the chair and pushes up, lifting her butt off the chair. She slowly extends her legs. She doesn't talk; maybe she can't.

Atley takes a sip and glances back at her, faintly raising bushy brows in gruff amusement. He leans back against the counter, wood squeaking underneath, and rests his tankard on his belt buckle to observe.

Ivrianna heaves a sigh and drops back down. "Nope, it's too hard while you're watching me."

Atley grunts. "I suppose assassins aren't typically used to being watched during the act."

[Ivrianna]: "Plus it's embarrassing how much strength I've lost."

Atley shakes his head. "Watching you there…" he begins. "You've still got it, bird. Never at risk of losing it to begin with."

Ivrianna smiles, a little sad. "Let's see you sit mostly idle for two years and see how much conditioning you lose. I've tried to keep up with it, but my balance is all wrong now. It's like starting from scratch."

Atley grunts and takes a slow sip. "You're only twenty-three. You've plenty more time ahead of you." He up nods, and raises his tankard. "Come with me on my runs, in the morning."

Ivrianna 's blue eyes fill with dread. "What if I can't keep up?"

Atley sighs quietly as he peers at her. "You may," he admits, gruffly. "But will you let that keep you from trying? That's not in your nature."

[Ivrianna]: "Maybe." She laughs. "All right, probably not, but still. I guess I won't regain what I lost without some effort."

Atley grunts. "You haven't lost your edge," he growls softly. "You're just out of practice. You're cut out for this, Ivri."

Ivrianna shrugs, but is pleased. "We'll see, I suppose," she says. "Did I tell you what Sintha said I should do?"

Atley grunts and shakes his head. He raises a hand to blatantly cover his eyes as he takes another slow pull from his tankard.
[Atley]: Listn'ing. Not watching.

Ivrianna eyes him and continues sitting there. "She said I should look into the cultists behind the assassination attempt on the king. You might've told me there was one, by the way."

Atley peeks at her from over his hand before he lowers it and rests it on the table. He takes another sip. "Might have. Didn't. Stand by it. Wot' do you make of her suggestion?"

Ivrianna shakes her head slowly. "It seems a little big for me. I told her I could poke around in some basements, see what I find out, but…" She thinks about it. But what, Ivri? "But I guess I am afraid I've lost my edge."

Atley peers at her, gaze attentive, expression gruff. "Come over here a moment, will you?"

Ivrianna rises and walks to him.

Atley turns to set his tankard down before he reaches for her hands, large fingers bullying and wedging between her smaller digits. "You haven't," he reasserts. "I've known it'd take some time for you to get back in the swing of things, but you will."
[Atley]: I'll be damned 'fore I let you underestimate yourself, woman.

Ivrianna swings their joined hands a little. "Well, I'd hate for you to be damned, so don't do that." She smiles up at him. "I'll get over it. I just need time to work myself back into shape."

Atley grunts and tugs her closer. "We can do it together. Running. Sparring. Just the two of us."

Ivrianna is tugged closer. "And with Neila watching the kids, I'll have time on my own to work on my balance. My flexibility is still good, thankfully."

Atley grunts and pushes off of the counter, releasing just one of her hands. He leads her over to the dining area and glances up at the heigh ceiling. "Could hang a silk or two, here."
[Atley]: Still too bloody cold to use it on a tree.

Ivrianna looks up. "That could work." She grins at him. "I can balance standing on your shoulders to put it up."

Atley grunts and eyes her up and down. "I've a few ideas of wot' we can do with you on my shoulders." he growls, squeezing her hand.

Ivrianna rolls her eyes and shoves at him. Not that it'd actually move him, but still. "Men," she says.

Atley grunts and tugs her into a chair, pulling her sidelong into his lap. "Wot' else you and her speak of?"

Ivrianna sits. "Not much," she says. "I barely remembered to thank her for the gifts, but I did ask her to pass along our thanks to the Admiral." She thinks about it. "She liked my secret pants."

Atley cranes his head in a nod, raising a free hand to idly tuck her hair behind her ears. "S'good to have a connection like her. She'll get a great deal out of it, herself."

Ivrianna laughs a little. "If I can get used to the way she speaks."

Atley looks off and squints for a moment. "Warrant I spoke to her once, at the gala. Second time in Northrend, briefly."

[Ivrianna]: "So you know, then."

Atley scoffs with amusement. "Sommat'…" He clears his throat and squints, deliberating with something.

Ivrianna cocks her head and studies his expression. "What?"

Atley glances back at her and hesitates briefly, still squinting. "The Ramkahen in Uldum are going to war with the Neferset, the servants of Deathwing. It's necessary, and wot' we wanted."

Ivrianna settles herself a little. "All right. That's good, then."

Atley works his jaw for a moment. "We've been preparing them for a fight. Trained up one of theirs. I've been returning to oversee and advise on training, turning their field workers into soldiers."

Ivrianna strokes his jaw, combing through his beard lightly. "And…?" she prompts gently.

Atley leans his head an inch closer. "I enjoy it. Reminds me of my earlier days, with the army…" He tongues the inside of his cheek. "In Andhoral, 'round when the Cataclysm started, Cobalt sent a detachment of us. Do the same thing." He grunts, and continues.
[Atley]: Rally the local farmers who'd moved back into the Western Plaguelands to recolonize it. Arm them, train them. We trained them well, and brought the fight to the Horde, and then…
[Atley]: Sylvanas slaughtered them all. Raised them into undeath with her val'kyr.

Ivrianna chews at her lower lip. "You know you weren't responsible for that happening, right?"

Atley growls quietly and works his jaw, looking off. "Thassarian, an Alliance death knight was in command. Struck some sort of fraternal arrangement with Koltira Darkweaver, a Horde death knight. After both Alliance and Horde had driven off Scourge remnants, the Ebon Hold bastards decided to put off our fight a day. Sylvanas had none of it and struck." He grinds his teeth.

Ivrianna listens quietly, moving her hand to stroke his hair.

Atley grunts and shakes his head. "That won't happen. We will triumph, in Uldum. There's no other way." He glances at her. "I'm not accustomed to speaking on things like this."
[Atley]: But I'd like to get better at it, with you.

Ivrianna presses a kiss to his temple. "You don't usually discuss things like this with me, no. And you know it won't happen in Uldum. Has the Plaguelands thing been bothering you all this time?"

Atley grunts mildly, and sets a hand on her thigh. "Added to the nightmares, 'bit. Though they've themselves slowed, since you, they haven't gone away. Never shall."

Ivrianna's brow wrinkles. "You don't feel responsible, do you? For what happened to those farmers?"

Atley 's features twitch with internal rage. "I rallied them, trained them, encouraged them, and they weren't only slain, they were enslaved." He juts out his jaw and slowly shakes his head. "We would've had it, if we'd struck when we were supposed to."

[Ivrianna]: "Sylvanas is…" She shakes her head. "I don't know how you fight something like that. What she did… But it can't happen this time. She won't be there and as bad as that dragon is, he doesn't show any signs of those kind of abilities."

Atley looks back at her and nods with a grunt. "Aye… Some of them will die. P'raps many. It's a reality of war," he growls. "But this time, it won't be for naught. We'll save their land. Their people."

Ivrianna says gently, "You'll try. You'll do your best, and your best is amazing. But not everything is in your control."

Atley ponders that for a moment, studying her features. "I've lost people, before. Under my command. 'Fore Andorhal, all of it." His eyes flash with a sudden fierceness. "I will fight until I'm dead, nothing will keep me from it, but I'm …"
[Atley]: Weary, at times.
[Atley]: Of the death.

Ivrianna smooths his hair where it was ruffled from her hand going through it. "I know," she says. "How can you not be? You're only human."

Atley grunts faintly at her reminder, equally disappointed and relieved by the established limitation. "No word of this is for any other, Ivri. Just for you." he tells, or asks her, squeezing her thigh, peering into her eyes.

Ivrianna kisses the tip of his nose. "Who would I tell, Claw? And you know… not to turn this into something self-serving but if you do get too weary, you can always retire. Be a blacksmith. Play with your children. Watch them grow up."

Atley slowly runs a hand up and down her back, occasionally pausing to massage the back of her neck. "I can't," he tells her. "Not while there's a war on. I'm built for this, just as you are for —" he nods over to the chair she'd been using for acrobatics.
[Atley]: I was built for this. You know that.

Ivrianna nods. "I know. I do. It's just… there will always be a war on, somewhere. It's like getting married or having kids. You can't wait for the right time, because there is no right time."

Atley squeezes her thigh again, and takes a moment to think it over, looking away before he glances back at her. "I have to believe we're fighting for a better future for the little ones. There's an end, even if it's not in sight."
[Atley]: Until then, as long as our people have need of me, I'm theirs.

Ivrianna drops her hand to cover his. "And I love you for it. You know that."

Atley grunts and leaves his hand on the back of her neck. "I know it. I know you … want to give me peace, as well."

Ivrianna rests her other hand on his chest. "Peace in here," she says softly. Then she teases, "You'll never have peace out here, not with two kids and a dog and a wife."

Atley scoffs faintly with amusement, lifting a hand off of her leg to needlessy push more hair behind her ears. "I know wot' I've sign up for," he remarks wryly. "I can handle anything a mortal can handle."

Ivrianna warns him, "Don't tempt the fates. I'll get pregnant again despite the herbs and you'll have three children under the age of two to deal with."

Atley lowers a hand to her suspenders and gives them a rough tug while clamping down on the back of her neck. "I've a mind to test the fates right now. Your own bloody fault, face like that, bendy as you are."

Ivrianna laughs at him and leans in to nip at his jaw. "No no, I have to practice," she says, sliding her hand down his chest.

Atley grunts, hands clamping down on her waist. He tugs her on top of him. "I'm of the same mind. We'll start with your endurance."