(2025-03-26) Not That Big a Deal

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Author:	Saaron
Summary:	Sandy goes looking for Dane in Highbanks to ask for his permission to stay there. Dane has a few advice for him.
Rating:	T for Teen

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It's a gloomy, overcast day in Highbank. The sky is an endless ceiling of gray, a combination of risen smoke from the previous confrontations between the Horde and the Alliance, and dormant storm clouds carried in from the distance east across The Forbidding Sea. Soldiers and sailors split between clean up duty, construction, and patrols. The gargantuan Horde fortress to the north seems of particular interest to the garrison, and is regularly being looked at through a spyglass by an Alliance servicemember at least once every five minutes.

The bodies of the Axebite Marines have been dragged into ordered piles, their weapons and armor left intact situated in their own clusters for salvaging, their ranks taken down and quantified. The air is humid, with a warm and incessant breeze wafting over the island. The place is largely quiet, an emotionally low contrasted by the sharp peaks of combat from the day prior, a microcosm of the Twilight Highlands as a whole, as if the region itself was holding its breath and waiting.

Dane patrols the battlements in his plate armor and Cobalt Company tabard.. He stops occasionally to speak with a soldier before marching on. He, too, finds his gaze drawn more often than not to the Horde off in the distance, eyes narrowed in thought.

Sandy enters the battlements almost absentmindedly, his tabard obscuring his outfit of a shirt, shorts and sandals. His face is hidden under a wide-brimmed, pointy hat. He hums - or mutters - to himself.

Sandy perks up at the sound of Dane's voice carried across the halls. He picks up his pace to follow the oh-so-familiar voice.

"Dane!" he shouts, finally seeing the squad leader.

Atley automatically spins around and squints through the slit in his helmet at Sandy from afar, stooping slightly. He raises a hand to pry his helmet off, shaking his hair free, and grunts. "Gausanders?" he booms inquiringly before marching over to greet the familiar face.

"I hadn't expected to run into you here, mate," he greets with a fond growl, extending a hand.

Sandy moves past the hand and goes for a hug instead if Dane lets him.

Atley stops as Sandy hugs him, arms out to his sides for a moment before he gives the young man a few firm pats. “Alright then, there you are. Let’s have a look at you.”

He pulls Sandy off, hands on his shoulders, and eyes him up and down appraisingly before he shakes him back and forth with a growl. “How’ve you been, then?”

Even as Dane pulls him off, Sandy hugs him just for a little bit longer. He lets himself be shaken without any resistance. "So-so," he simply answers, without providing any more context. The smell of whiskey is on his breath. "How 'bout you?"

“Can’t complain,” Atley growls, releasing Sandy to inspect him again. He faintly furrows his brow at the smell of liquor and grunts. “Wot’ brings you here? Has something happened?”

"A bunch," Sandy answers, shrugging his shoulders, taking a step to the side, and shifting his balance to the left. "Long story short; I'm a shadow priest now, still have a contract with demons, don't summon them anymore, Gwen broke up with me because of my switch in magic, still haven't seen my dad since he learned I was a warlock, and… That's it. I think. That's more than enough, actually!" He takes a deep breath. "I was looking for you to know if I can be stationed here officially. Please."

Atley’s eyes follow him, briefly flitting to his prosthetic leg as Sandy moves around. His brow furrows as he listens to the sequence of events, and he squints. Atley allows a long quiet moment to pass to digest it all. “I lead the squad that’s been assigned to me,” he says at last. “I can grant recommendations or take issue with my assignments.“

Atley shakes his head. “You’ve been drinking.” he observes bluntly, trying to clasp Sandy’s shoulder. “You’ve had a rough go of it, mate.”

"Okay," Sandy says, shrugging again. "Then recommend me. Send a letter to Jo. I really want to be here."

Sandy chuckles at the comment about alcohol, avoiding what Dane said next. "Don't worry, just a little, not like that one party in the HQ!"

Atley stares at him for a time, unwavering. “Where’ve you been staying? How’s your coin?”

"At home, of course!" Sandy laughs. "Where else? I just got here from the portal. Met, uh…" He pauses. "Elfendra on my way to see you!"

Atley upnods slowly. “Which home?” he presses. “Where?”

"Stormwind. Cathedral district," Sandy raises an eyebrow. "You're trying to see if I'm possessed, or an imposter or something? Touch my face if you want to see if I'm an imposter! Go on! That's my usual face, I promise!"

Atley scoffs with amusement, some tension leaving him. “I know you when I see you,” he reassures, shaking his head. “Wot’ I’m trying to see is if you need a place to stay.”

He sets his jaw. “I cannot recommend you for squad duty as you are now. In time, I’m certain that’ll change. How’s your coin?”

"I told you, I'm so-so, I'm at home, and Mom's paying for stuff!" Sandy shakes his head. "I'm not looking for squad duty, just… Backup in Highbank, or something."

Atley grunts and glances around. “Why here? This place of all?” Atley asks. “It’s a bloody war zone.”

"I'm not going to get back on Squad by waiting in Stormwind, right?" Sandy says, his bloodshot eyes blank. "And I'm trying to see if I can find my brother around here." He sits down on a nearby crate. "You know, the Wildhammer who found me and went missing… 5 years ago, now." He then mutters under his breath. "Still one thing I may be able to do right."

Atley watches him and nods a few times, stroking his beard in thought as he looks to the northwest, the distant green highlands shrouded in a mist. “You won’t be getting back on squad until you’re sober,“ Atley clarifies. “I understand turning to drink in dark times, but it won’t be your servant. It’ll be your master. I speak from experience.”

He looks back to Sandy, cinching his thumbs in his belt. “You’ve a mind to look for your brother. That’s noble. But you won’t be of use to anyone, especially yourself, until you get sorted, Sanders. You’re in no position to wade into a battleground.”

"I am sober!" He protests a little too loudly. "Mom likes to have a drink from time to time. Doesn't stop her from working with the Kirin Tor!" He lets his head backward. "You've seen me drunk, right? Right? I'm not like that when I am!"

Atley grunts. "Have you seen your eyes, lad? You look like you've not slept in days. You need to rest before you can be of service to others. Look after yourself, first." He inclines his head. "I'd help you with is, wot'ever you need, but I cannot recommend you for squad. Not in the state you're in now. You were squad material in the past. You can be again, in the future."

"Ugh, come on, you're overreacting!" Sandy says exhaling loudly. "It's not been days since I slept. I just didn't sleep well last night, that's all!" With his elbows now on his knees, he leans forward, his face facing the floor. "I'm not asking for squad right now. Just to be here, in the Twilight Highlands."

Atley glances around, performing another brief perimeter scan before he turns to sit on another crate next to Sandy. “Why haven’t you gone to the Captain yourself?” he inquires calmly in a low growl. “She’d receive you.”

Sandy shakes his head repeatedly. "I don't know…" He says. "I know that's not like Gwen, but I'm afraid she'd… Stay stuff about me against me to Jo." Sandy looks up his back still leaning forward. "But if you say I'm good, she'll have to listen to you right?"

Atley grunts. “It’ll carry weight,” he begins. “But I cannot honestly say that, from wot’ I’ve seen today. Your eyes are red. You look unwell, and you smell of whiskey, Sanders.”

He looks off, tonguing the inside of his cheek. “Gwen wouldn’t speak against you personally, and we’re all grateful you’ve done your best to step away from the fel, but a concern is this new magic you’ve dabbled in. The shadow. Whether it’s compromised you.” Another grunt. “If it hasn’t, you’d be a welcome addition to the squads, and of great aid in finding your brother. I’ll need more time with you to make certain before I can officially recommend you.”

"That sounds like someone who's okay with me staying here under his supervision," Sandy says with a look of hope on his face. "… Forget the whiskey stuff though, it's not that big a deal!"

Atley glares at him. "No, lad. It is. If you want any recommendation from me, or any chance of getting deployed to an area where the Company is, you will be sober during working hours. I mean it. We need all we can get — and you're experienced, but wandering this place without your full wits is a death wish."

He slowly shakes his head. "Until that time, p'raps you'd like someone to talk to." He grunts. "Are you familiar with Moredcai Aspenwood? You could speak to him. Or, you could speak to me, if you'd like. As a friend."

"Sure, yeah, I'll be sober during work hours, I can do that," Sandy says, very nonchalantly. "I guess, I know Mordecai, yeah." His eyes go blank as he speaks. "I just don't know what to talk about."

Atley grunts and peers at him for a moment. "Gwenivene, for one. All that you've been through," he explains, nodding down at the prosthetic leg. "You've had a rough go at it. It ought to benefit you speaking to someone who's used to listening," Atley muses. "I cannot force it, and I won't pressure you further if you'll have none of it, but it has helped others."

Sandy looks off to the side, deep in thought. He considers all of it, with his brow furrowing at times. "I guess I can… Consider talking. Yeah."

Atley nods once. "With him, or me? Or p'raps both. I cannot be a squad leader, but I can be a friend to you. Have been for some time." He tries to clasp Sandy on the shoulder.

Sandy lets him, although it does seem like a heavy weight has suddenly been placed on his shoulder. "… Do uh… How do I start? Are you going to ask questions first, or… ?" He pulls out of flask from a pocket in his jacket and jokingly says: "Want to talk about this over a drink?" Too soon, Sandy. Too soon.

Atley scoffs with amusement and shakes his head at the flask, eyeing it with a suddenly thoughtful look before he squints and briefly licks his lips, looking out over Highbank. "I should've made Sergeant Major." he tells Sandy. "I was a fine soldier, in times of war. The way of the sword came naturally to me. I could lead men." He suddenly raises his gauntleted finger and points at the flask. "But I allowed that to hinder me. That, and other things."

He tongues the inside of his cheek. "I'd been in the chaos so long that the silence of peace unnerved me. When things were easy, I'd go … mad. Waiting for something to happen, making something happen so I could get the drop on it. There's a viciousness in me. A rage. I don't seek you to refute it, I know it's there, and has been for some time. Always will be."

Sandy looks at Dane for a moment as he speaks, then looks away, as if to leave him his privacy. "I… Don't know if I'm feeling the same way, you know?" Sandy's gaze turns back to Dane as the younger man puts the flask back in his pocket. "It's just… It helps make everything so much more fun, you know? I get to just… Take the edge off of everything." Sandy smiles kindly at Dane. "And maybe it was just not the right time for you to be a Sergeant Major. You'd never have joined the Company if you did, right?"

Atley grunts in agreement. "It's different for you," he begins. "Drinking's no evil in of itself. Many fine, upstanding people enjoy a drink now and then. It's a fine servant, but a terrible master." he says with a note of finality, as if he's dropping the subject. "P'raps not," he answers in regards to Sandy's question. "P'raps it wouldn't have changed anything."

He looks back to Sandy. "Mordecai's trained and experienced in speaking through issues with others. If you feel you've no need to see him, all is well, but knowing that you've talked to someone and that you are stable will go a long way in your return to squad." He 'nudges' Sandy, though it's more of a hug. "Ought to come by Eastvale sometime. Ivri'll be glad to see you, but there will be no shadow or fel magic casted in that place. That's not welcome there, but you are."

Sandy takes in the words of Dane, sincerely. Terrible master, good servant. He'll try to remember that. He does tilt his head at the idea that Dane becoming Sergeant Major in the Alliance army wouldn't have changed anything.

"I'll try to see… If he even wants to talk to me!" Sandy nods. "Nothing's forcing him to. I kinda get why he wouldn't want that." Sandy turns to Dane during the nudge and smiles. "I'd love that. It's been a while since I've seen her!" He avoids the Shadow or Fel magic comment, preferring to ignore it.

Atley grunts. "He's a busy man, but he'll find the time. It's wot' he does. You can call for him at the Cathedral of Light. I know he's fighting on the Molten Front, and possibly being kept elsewhere." Atley explains. "I'm not certain if the two've you met. Or if you've met Sir Colson Aspenwood in great length — Cressidha's brother, and Mordecai's husband."

"We have!" Sandy nods. "And of course, I know Colson. I was at their wedding too." Sandy lets his head hang behind him as he stares at the ceiling. "Thank you, Dane. For trying to care about me."

Atley scoffs with amusement at the wording and inclines his head. "You're welcome," he growls warmly, brow furrowed faintly. "Wot'll you do now, then?"

"I'll still be annoying about you giving me some kind of recommendation I can give Jo to stay here, Sandy says, chuckling. "Speak to Mordecai if he's okay with it and uh… Wait for Jo's answer."

Atley shakes his head and waves a hand. "There's no need. Seek him out. He'll make the time." He eyes Sandy for a moment. "I doubt he'll speak against you. Then, I'll inform Jocoza of my recommendation."

Sandy throws his hands to the side and shrugs. "Why do you wait for his answer when you know it'll be positive." He sighs. "I get it. I get it," he says already in advance.

Atley gives him a stern look before he pats his knees with a 'clink' of armor and stands. "I’ll be returning to patrol."

"All right, I get it," Sandy says, getting back on his feet. "'Get out of Highbanks Sandy, you're not supposed to be here'." He chuckles. "I'll see you around?"

Atley grunts and extends a hand. "Count on it."