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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | After the Life-Binder and Deathwing tangled in the Highlands, and Kurdran Wildhammer advised Blue Squad to spend some time with their loved ones to prepare for what comes next, Oranna returns to Ironforge for a few days. Thalstan travels across the world to check in on her. 4300~ words. Post-squad log. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Chain: Orastan
It's early in the evening when Thalstan arrives outside the door to Oranna's home in Ironforge. One might not be able to tell the time of day by the warm lava glow of the city, but he's at least prepped for evening — his long hair, beard and mustache styled as if they happened to fall just so and boots, trousers and linen shirt instead of his usual armor.
He carries a small bouquet of purple violets in one hand and a basket from which the green scent of cooked vegetables can be detected by a keen nose in the other. He considers the door for a moment, realizing perhaps that he did not plan a third hand for knocking. Then he carefully sets the violets on top of the basket and knocks.
It's not the speed between the knock and the answering of the door that lends a sense of someone unsettled, because there is nothing unusually fast about it that indicates anything other than the occupant of the house was not very close to the door when the knock came, but the speed in which Oranna flings the front door open.
Thalstan is not the person she might have been expecting, however, because the surprise registers fully on her face first, right before she exhales a heavy half-laugh, lighting up into a relieved smile. "Thal!" She's so focused on his face, she doesn't take in the rest of the picture. "What are ye doin' here? Not — not that it's not good ta see ye, it's good ta see ye, it's not… ye don't have ta have a reason ta…" She hurriedly stomps on the inner brakes.
Thal hastily picks the violets back up and holds them out to Oranna.
"I heard ye were in town," Thal says, and doesn't add and in rough shape because that's not polite. "With all going on up in the Highlands, I thought ye might like some fresh vegetable stew? And mayhap some flowers to brighten this place, though you brighten it plenty yerself."
Oranna's smile at the flowers, and then at the food, and back at Thalstan lends credence to his claim, although she looks even more startled at the compliment, glancing down at herself like she is expecting that maybe she accidentally dumped glitter on herself and failed to notice it until this moment.
(She did not.)
She is in a soft dove-gray dress, with capped sleeves and a hemline ending at mid-thigh, which is showing a lot more leg than usual for the hunter. Her hair is in a loose braid, with waving tendrils framing her face. Whatever nerves plague her during the day have left her alone at night, although her worry line between her brows lingers.
Befound shoves her wet nose through the door, sniffing imperiously at Thalstan and then the 'food,' which is boring rabbit food, and flower which is again, rabbit food. She turns back to her catbed, her interest lost.
Oranna's interest stays captivated on Thalstan, as she sweeps a hand in. "Thank ye. For both. Come in, come in. I got yer letter. I'm real glad ta see ye."
The way Thalstan is smiling at her — not concerned in the slightest by the haughty predator cat — it kind of is like Oranna is dunked in glitter. Perhaps glitter is in the eye of the beholder. Not literally, of course, or he wouldn't be smiling so widely.
"Happy it got to ye," Thal says, stepping into the house at the invitation. Then his own brow creases, as he adds, "An' I regret I could no' make it up north before the weddin'. Especially given… ye've been by my ma's, aye?"
Oranna kicks the door with a foot closed behind him, and then winces.
"Ach, she told ye… not that that's bad, it's fine tha' she told ye, I didn't tell her not ta or anythin'," Oranna says. "I… we had jus' come back from facin' an Old God's creature that tried ta eat — well, did eat us, I mean were eaten, jus' didn't fully seem that way 'cause it doesn't close it's mouth ever. And then we were in its digestive juices, an' got sucked inta a Nightmare by corrupting Old God magics with Deathweng, an' had ta rescue some shamans an' fight off all the tentacles…so Bran an' I figured tha's definitely a take-out kind of day."
Oranna's current day seems to be a quiet day of eat out of your pantry day. The table still has a bowl on it, the remnants of which suggest soup, and an empty mug that might have been tea. It's unclear how long they've been out or when Oranna ate last.
"Ah… I see ye," Thalstan says, moving over to set the basket on the table. His eyes might be a little wider now, but most of his shock at the story is likely covered by his beard. "I don't think I'd feel much like cookin' either, day like that. All the… tentacles an' juices an' nightmares. Tha' is a bit more dire than it sounded in the newsletter, but I suppose the Captain does like ta make things sound brighter than they sometimes are. I… ah… hope the fare from my ma's was fortifyin' fer ye both?"
Oranna notices the table, and swoops in to gather her bowl and cup in an arm, bustling them over to the sink.
"Oh, it was perfect. Fortifyin' is… definitely the right word. We had enough fer four, an' I'm not ashamed ta say the two of us ate it all," she tells him, looking over her shoulder at him with a grin. Her dishes dropped off, she reaches into a cupboard that on first glance might seem a junk cupboard, except that a second glance reveals that everything in it is something you might need for plant care, from pruning shears, garden gloves, a watering can, and importantly — vases.
She sticks the violets in the vase, filling it up with water from a sink that groans and bangs the pipes in the wall like a poltergeist.
Oranna walks the flowers back over to the table, puts them in the center, and then, hesitatingly, like she's a little unsure of the exact process, reaches out a hand to him and asks, "Could I hug ye, maybe?"
"I'm glad she didn't leave ye hungry," Thalstan says, his arms now free of basket and flowers, as he turns his full attention to Oranna. There's a welcoming sparkle in his eyes, but something more careful, too. It's a gaze to appreciate a woman who can be eaten by an Old God creature in the afternoon and come home for take-out with a friend in the evening, but also one that recognizes even steel itself can shatter, given the right conditions. "And aye, ye can hug me whenever ye like."
He takes a step towards her, reaching one hand to take hers while the other seeks her shoulder to guide her into the embrace.
There's a bit of awkwardness, the unintentional reveal that Oranna's experiences with hugs are more recent than her other skills like sniping, but it smooths out as she figures out the configuration of arms again for Thalstan.
And then it's a tight clinging desperate scrunched sort of hug, her head bowing so that her hair strokes a path along his arm with the movement, and he can feel her breathing, strangely perfect rhythmic inhales and exhales incongruous with the fervent embrace.
Thalstan holds his arms around her, one hand stroking gently in the center of her back. He rests his cheek against her head and frowns a little at the unusual feel of her breath. Then, he deliberately breathes deeply, more slowly than she is, his chest expanding with it and slowly falling.
"A lot o' magic in the world," Thal says quietly. "But for this sort o' theng, for comfort, I never found anythin' better than just touch."
"That's a nice way of thinkin' of it," Oranna tells his shoulder earnestly. "I guess… like a lot of other magic, I didna really have much experience with it, growin' up. Still learnin', bit by bit." As she speaks, by the magic of mirroring unconsciously, her breathing begins to match his, something normal instead of trained. "Deathweng's up there, in the Highlands. He's tryin' ta take out the Red Dragonflight up there. We're tryin' ta stop him. I was close enough ta count half his teeth, six above and six below."
She still hasn't let up, and this hug is turning more into a holding than anything.
Thalstan doesn't seem to mind the hug turning to holding at all. He starts to shift a little bit, not to pull back, but to settle Oranna more comfortably against him. With the long, soft beard, he's probably a pretty cuddly-comfy person to hug. As her breathing calms, he gently moves his hand to touch her braid. His hand stills for just a moment at the mention of Deathwing.
"His… teeth," Thalstan says, and if his own breathing doesn't pick up pace, it's because he's already conscious of it. "Deathweng's. Ah, lass, that sounds awful. That bloke's been soaring the skies and burning the lands fer months now, an' I never knew someone ta get so close. But one dragon against a flight… maybe they'll manage alrigh'? They've got their own Aspect too, aye? And alignin' with darker forces does no' mean Deathweng's stronger."
"He might be," Oranna says in a hollow voice. "The Life-Bringer, she's up there. An' it's the Red Dragons, ye ken, with the Dragonmaw up there, an' we've not got a great track record as a whole. We've banged on their gates at Grim Batol, an' we've — the Alliance we I mean ta say, no' you an' I… and so we had ta earn even jus' a slim measure of trust afore they'd let us help.
"An' we did help, an' we got up inta Grim Batol by a… we — we got through the gate," her voice stutters to a stop for a few breaths. "[We got through the gate.]" The Dwarvish is a strange hard rock in her tale, and she doesn't seem to realize the slip. "[And so the plan was that the Matriarch of the Red Dragon Clan would take Deathwing on within a containment circle, flowers for runes…]
"[I watched her fight him — I could feel the wind from their wings in my hair. She won, Thal, even though it almost killed her. And then he popped right back up, like a possum done playing at being dead, and her wounds still bleeding, and nothing on him]," she tells him, in a near whisper, squeezing harder. "[He's still out there. Whatever he's drawing on, we haven't taken it out, and he can't die from things that he should.]"
Thal continues to hold her safely, though his brow furrows when she slips into speaking Dwarven. Not that there's anything wrong with Dwarven, of course, but there's a questioning look as he shifts his gaze to look down over her head. This change seems to mean something, but he isn't sure what yet.
"[He's still out there, but so is the Matriarch of the Red Dragon Clan]," Thal answers in the same language. "[If there's something propping him up, then maybe we can find that load-bearing structure and demolish it. Or maybe he had a plan for the Red Matriarch's magic, knowing he would face her. There are still so many possibilities. A possum might play dead, but it can also be killed.]"
Oranna doesn't seem to notice the shift at all, even hearing it. "[That's what they're hoping. That's why we're going back. Kurdran's going to help prepare the attack. And he told us —]" She hitches on the words, stumbles over them, a tumbling string that speaks of someone who has thought about them, thought about what she might want to say and how to say it, and never really decided on a single way.
"[He said we should spend time with our loved ones, because — you know what that means, when you hear it, you know it's not just because you have some free time. It's the — you have to be ready — it's not… and love is a strong word it's not the… word. That… it's caring, right? That's caring, it's people you care about, and I wanted to ask you to come here, but there's — you can't ask that to someone, can you? It just sounds terrible however you try to say it. 'Will you stop by because I care and I'd like to see you, and there's a good chance I might die in this next mission?' It's like cursing it, and putting it on them, and I don't…]" What she doesn't is unclear, because she just trails off to rolling awkward silence.
Thalstan's face pales at that, as an understanding of the situation dawns on him. It's not that the danger has passed, it's just reached a middle point.
"[There's a chance you might — ]" Thal says, his arms tightening a little around her protectively. "[Every days there's risks, but if it's serious enough that Kurdran Wildhammer thought — ]"
Words fail Thalstan again for a long moment, before he finally continues, "[You also might live, Oranna, so you don't need to say anything you wouldn't want to live with after, as well. I'm glad I'm here. And if you'd asked me, just like that, I would have come to you.]" He nods slightly for emphasis, and adds, "[I'll go back to the highlands with you. I still have my work with the Blade to see to, but if you're going into such danger… I want to be there to see you walk out of it.]"
He gets a strange sensation of someone wiggling their arms like erasing an Etch-A-Sketch on his back in response, and he might notice a sense of warmth around her face on his shoulder, the heat from her cheeks palpable, and if blushes could set off a glow, hers would be.
"[I didn't mean — I'm not trying to — I wasn't asking for you to… leave your work with the Blade. It's important work,]" she says hastily. "[And I don't even know if they'll — the Red Dragons and the Wildhammers both — let you in far enough. The Red Dragons, they plucked us off our gryphons and frog marched — or, dragon marched I guess — into probation, and that was after we'd been sent by a diplomat. I have no idea how close they'll let you get, or what they might do to keep you away."]
Another wiggle of erasure. "[It's not that I wouldn't want you there. It's — well, I do. I would. I mean, if that's… it'd be nice to have another caring… face. To come back to because I'm not going to assume this is the end. And I don't really… know how to not say things that I have to live with. I always have to just live with them being said.]" That's probably true. He's heard her live with more than a few things she probably wishes she never said.
"[Even if they won't let me in]," Thal says firmly, and he doesn't blush at all. "[I know I haven't done anything to build my reputation up there, not like you and the squad have. But I also know what it's like to wait at home while someone you care about is on a dangerous mission. When my pa was in Silithus– ]"
Thal pauses, and then instead of elaborating, he continues, "[I'll be at Highbank, or as close as I can get to Grim Batol, and I'll be there to watch you come back from that place alive, all of you. I won't neglect the Blade, but I can take a few days away. We've still got to figure out what the blood elf man's next move is, before we act again.]"
Oranna might be trying to wait out the blush. It'll go away any minute now…
It's not weird to not look at people when you're talking to them, right? This hug has been going on for a while though.
Maybe Thalstan won't notice? An awkward dwarven gal can dream.
Thalstan definitely notices. 'Does he mind?' is an entirely different question, and he doesn't seem to. In fact, he makes no move whatsoever to end the hug. It can last as long as Oranna wants it to.
"[You would do that for me? I mean… I… thank you? I know… I do know what it's like, waiting at home, and getting a letter instead of… a person. I don't know if it's worse being closer, but at least if something went wrong… you'd know. I'm not assuming it will go wrong. But I know that things can change so fast. The way we took Grim Batol it was just like before, in the Second War. The way the orcs chased us in, and how someone had to hold the line while the gates were opened,]" Oranna relates, and there's a tremor that passes through her. "[They might… try to take Grim Batol back. I… I would really need you to not… die if you held that line, Thal.]"
"[Yes, I would do that for you]," Thalstan says seriously. "[There are a lot of things I would do for you, if you ask, or even if you don't and I see the need for it. Bring you stew and flowers. Wait for you up in the Highlands while you do something dangerous and heroic. I'd rather not wait to see if there's a person or a letter come back to Ironforge, though I hope with all my heart it's a person. And I do not mean to die holding a line, up in the Highlands or in Outland or anywhere. There are people counting on me to make it through, just like you've got people counting on you.]"
"[It's not a meaning to, or a planning to, but there's time when it happens. There's times when Someone has to do something about a thing, and we're Someone. That's comes with a cost sometimes.]" She scrubs a hand along her face, and then startles in a realization.
"[Oh! The stew! I — I wasn't even — I forgot about…"] She pulls away from the embrace, embarrassed and chagrined, "[I don't… how long it was just… I can heat it — ah, is there… that is did you… eat already, or…?]"
"[I could eat]," Thal says with a smile, letting her pull away. "[I brought enough for two, just in case. And aye, I know it's not a meaning or a planning, but it is a choice. You could be the person who says, I'm not willing. Someone has to do something about a thing, but it'll have to be Somebody else. And that means it might be Nobody. So what you're doing, it is heroic — it being necessary doesn't take away from that.]"
Oranna's face registers the surprise. "[Heroic? I… guess it is, as deed maybe. I don't know that I'd call myself that. I'm… just a girl with a gun,"] she says.
From the living room, Befound makes a raspy cough as she stretches out, her claws dragging across the stone floor. A-HEM.
Oranna rolls her eyes. "[And a snow leopard lass companion,]" she adds.
Befound, mollified, sets her head (heroically) over her tail (the tail of a hero) again.
"[You're a real hero, Thal. Valor. Your team couldn't do without you,]" Oranna tells him, as she fusses with the food.
"[I'd like to think they could not,]" Thal nods, settling down at the table to watch her fuss with the food. "[But I couldn't do without them, either. A team leader's nothing without a team. I don't know what I'd do without Arthur's arcane know-how, Tadget's enthusiastic violence, Vesyllah's dark-side-of-the-moon magic, or Zaara's healing. And sometimes what a team needs is a girl with a gun and a snow leopard lass companion, and that's what they can't do without.]"
Oranna visibly considers it, the worry line between her eyebrows deepening, as she slows down in setting up the meal, pulling out plates from a strangely organized cupboard.
"[I think… I could be replaced though. You know, another girl, another gun, another snow leopard,]" she says.
Befound has never been so affronted in all her life. Excuse you, Oranna, she is irreplaceable.
Oranna whirls half in place, as if to forestall that very claim. "[Not — not to people who care about me, n-not like that, not… not that I don't matter, personally. I… that's another thing. I know, I know I do matter, that I'm not replaceable for those. I mean in the grand scheme of things, it could be anyone who was out there, so long as they were.
"[That's not… to me, that's not a bad thing. If you're a… 'Chosen One,' or the only one who could do a thing, then if you make a single mistake, you have one bad day, it's all on you that it comes apart. I'm just… Someone. And if I fall, or I fail, Someone else is there. Someone else could step forward. It doesn't all end with me. And there's something… comforting in knowing that.]"
Thalstan watches her at the cabinets, and says, "[Maybe it's not that either of us are a Chosen One, but that we're the Choosing Ones — it's seeing that a thing needs to be done and choosing to do it. It doesn't end with either of us, no, there'll be others that face such times and make similar choices. It's not all on us. But… I think it matters that you're someone who chooses to help, even when it's hard, even when it costs. I like that about you, Oranna.]"
He turns to Befound, the irreplaceable leopard, and smiles. "[And you, too.]"
Oranna smiles at Thalstan, the kind that softens the line between her eyebrows, a warm blush on her cheeks.
Befound licks at a paw. Damn straight.
"[Me too,]" Oranna says. And then waves her hands in the air. "[I-I mean, I like that you do that, too, and… I - I guess I like that about me, too…too. It's a — I… the… I like you, too.]"
Smooth.
The warm blush is now a scarlet that covers her entire face.
Thalstan smiles back, no blush on his face, but a warm sparkle in his eyes. "[In case it's not clear, I like you, too. And I'm glad to hear that you like you, too, because you're a wonderful woman to know. And one with a truly interesting organizational scheme.]"
Maybe a little smoother? Depends on the reception.
"[At any rate, I'll be there,]" Thal says. "[Maybe not at your side, but nearby. To see you again, I hope, after the danger is done.]"
"[If you're sure, about coming up,]" Oranna says, which sounds — and looks on her face — like agreement. If it wasn't, he'd know.
She sits awkwardly, because halfway through she starts standing again to set the other plate next to her, rather than across. Her line of sight, he might note, is a direct one to the door. "[And I… ah, I know my organization isn't always… what other people do. The kitchen is all done by grouping the things together that get used together.]"
Thalstan moves to sit next to her, and says, "[I can see the sense in it, though I wouldn't have thought to use the system myself. It's always interesting to see what people do that's not like what other people do, isn't it?]"
He nods towards the door. "[Eyes on the entrances, is it? A good instinct, though I trust we're safe here.]"
Oranna startles, and then glances at the door, sinking into her chair with embarrassment. "[Oh, that. It's an old… habit I guess. I just like to know where it is. It's like you wrote in your letter, from the days of the Siege. It's… there's a thing you learn in that sort of experience, what a door can become. When there's no exit anymore. I just… like to keep a line of sight to it.]"
She awkwardly scuffs a boot in a circle under the table. "[Probably makes me sound paranoid, doesn't it? And it's not that — I feel safe here. And with you. I'm not — I'm not scared of anything. Here, I mean, here, I'm scared of plenty of things actually. Falling. Losing my eyebrows permanently. Cave-ins. Drowning. The world ending.]" She hastily sketches out an erase in the air. "[That's — that's not in order or anything. I don't… fear my eyebrows lost over the world ending.]"
"[Not paranoid, no. I think the world ending is probably a more common one,]" Thal says with a fond chuckle. "[I'm afraid of other things, too. Losing my ma and the Dragon. Failing my team. My beard getting patchy. But I'm not afraid of any of that right now. How about let's just be safe today, and unafraid together.]"
Oranna smiles at him again, that open expression that shows it's unforced. She laughs a little, and there's a bit of something about the way she looks at his beard for a long moment. It's enough of a thing, like she's thinking about how soft it is, how nicely it suits him, that has her hurriedly looking back to her food.
"[That sounds nice]," she agrees. "[You could maybe tell me more about what's happening with the Blade, or the old adventures. I have all the books, but it's… well it's a story, so. Not that I don't think Nnnnnsteelbloom doesn't tell the truth. But the parts that weren't interesting for a novel, but differently interesting.]"
A thought clearly occurs to her. "[Oh, but if you tell me anything about now, it shouldn't maybe be anything that's a surprise for the next book. I'm… I'm not the best with spoilers. Or secrets. Or surprises. Or…secret surprises.]"
Somehow, I think he knows, Oranna.