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| Details |
| Author: | Alli |
| Summary: | Cecil, Merelda, Ozzy, and Wobby travel by caravan from Stormwind down to the Blasted Lands. Along the way, certain feelings are confirmed, others are dodged, and they learn a little more of each other's stories. ~8500 words |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
The early morning in Stormwind City is blissfully cool for the summer. The sun is just barely peaking over the horizon and the moisture of the lingering dew lends brisk freshness to the day, one that is imparted with a sense of joy from the bright song of early-rising birds. The wooden wheels of a cream-laquered caravan with maroon padded seats add a little clatter to the scene as two stout horses — one black, one dappled brown and white — pull it over the bridge and towards the gates of the city.
The caravan master, a grizzled worgen man by the name of Bromley, sits at the reins, unimpressed by the statues of heroes that flank his journey. It may simply be that he's seen them many times before, in the course of his business. He breathes a little sigh of relief as the caravan passes onto the quieter main road of Elwynn Forest, greenery and healthy mature trees lining the path.
At the back of the caravan sits Merelda Veyne in a dark green traveling dress, watching the city recede. She says to her companion, as if once again defending the mode of transport, "I know this is not the fastest route, but without knowing what happened to the last ship… we'll get there soon enough, and safer this way."
Despite the initial objections of the caravan driver, Oslynn Gravehowl is perched on top of the caravan, squatting in worgen form atop the tied-up supples, wearing a green vest and patched trousers. She scoots rearward to respond to Merelda, balancing easily despite the movement of the carriage over the dirt road.
"I ain't real eager to be on a ship anyway," she says. "Too soon."
"I can guarantee no krakens or warships on this route, at least," Merelda says with a nod, and then sighs. "I certainly hope it's neither of those that befell the previous vessel. Surely they cannot be so commonly found on the sea."
"At least a land kraken would be interesting," Ozzy muses. "Different. Just like, oozing over the ground so you can see the whole thing at once. It's the way they hide that's so unfair. The whole sea's like that. You just never know what's right under you."
Those in worgen form probably smell the two of them even before they come into view along the side of the road: there is Wobby Cardassus, who smells like deodorant and leather polish, and Cecil Soso, who smells like paper and ink and petrichor. They can hear, next, the tapping of staves against staves.
As the caravan pulls closer, they can see Cecil dressed in leathers, his back to the road, trying to hit a very evasive gnome with a plain training quarterstaff. Wobby is not in his suit; he is wearing what can best be described as leather straps over his bare chest, and a gladiator-like leather skirt, bracers, and sandals. He has a staff of his own.
"Lord Cecil, isn't that…" Wobby begins, and as Cecil turns towards the caravan, Wobby smacks him in the knee for getting distracted during training.
"Bromley, stop for a moment, will you?" Merelda calls, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the moving caravan. It rolls to a stop by the clearing, and Merelda drops down to the rock-paved road with a small unladylike mmph.
Stepping towards the sparring partners, she calls, "Lord Cecil, Mr. Cardassus, is that you?"
From atop the caravan, in worgen form, Ozzy waves.
Mr. Cardassus clears his throat and bows politely. "Good morning, Lady Merelda. And is that Miss Gravehowl up there?"
Cecil's eyes light up in recognition, and he rushes towards the caravan straight away, going right past Wobby. He waves to Merelda with the hand not reserved for holding the staff as he runs. Being thwacked in the knee does not appear to be impeding his mobility at all.
"Yes, it is! What a coincidence we should run into you here," Merelda says to Mr. Cardassus with a reserved smile. "We were just setting out on a journey, as it happens."
Mr. Cardassus gathers up two bags, his and Cecil's. He slides his staff into the carrying loops in his own pack and begins to waddle closer. "Oh? Where might you be headed?"
Ozzy grins down at Cecil from her perch, her slightly sulky mood dissolving away completely.
"To Surwich," Merelda answers the gnome. "It's a worgen settlement in the far south of the Blasted Lands — it will be a fairly long journey. I can't recall if Ozzy or I have mentioned the place before?"
Cecil raises a hand in a sign that strongly resembles a wave, smiling brightly at Ozzy. He nods once in the direction of the driver and then uses his staff to vault up and into the seating area of the caravan.
"Not in my presence, I don't believe," Wobby says. "…Lord Cecil! Well, he says hello. Lord Cecil, you can't simply invite yourself…!"
"I invited 'im," Ozzy says, "'E knows; 'e saw it." She grins more and hangs over the edge of the caravan roof, looking upside-down into the seating area. "You want me to come in there? It's nicer up 'ere."
"Oh, well… I suppose," Merelda looks a touch flustered. "You're welcome, if you'd like to join. We're traveling through a number of towns, so you may travel home by gryphon if the journey grows too long. We're transporting needed supplies — the settlement is fairly isolated, along the coast."
Wobby smiles at Merelda. "As long as you don't object to the company. Lord Cecil seems eager. He and I were discussing sailing to Kalimdor to find Miss Gravehowl just yesterday." The two of them clearly do not have a mage acquaintance who will just open portals left and right for free.
He keeps an eye on Cecil as Cecil signs a question to Ozzy: "I," followed by a gesture like he's holding two things in his hands and they're being weighed down. This is accompanied by the raised eyebrow of a question.
"Lord Cecil is unsure if he'll be too heavy for the roof, especially with the both of you up there," Mr. Cardassus interprets as he approaches.
"One way to find out!" Ozzy says cheerfully, reaching down through the window as though to help pull him up. "It's a good Gilnean style carriage, made for carryin' baggage up top, should be awright. I'll make meself smaller to help. Once I've helped you up that is. These arms are stronger."
"I suppose if it does collapse the carriage, a day's delay won't cause too much trouble," Merelda says wryly.
Bromley looks back in clear dismay.
"That is, I do expect Ozzy has the right of it," Merelda quickly amends. "And in any case, the carriage will be repaired by House Veyne if any harm comes to it. I expect it won't, though, this shouldn't be a dangerous journey. Perhaps there may be some danger in Surwich, but… well, we can tell you about that on the way."
Cecil wedges his staff into a spot where it won't roll around during travel and then begins to climb up with Ozzy's help.
Wobby does a leap-and-climb that is even more impressive for a gnome to get into the carriage himself. "Lord Cecil, I won't be able to see you. Would you like your notepad up there?"
In response, Cecil dangles a hand down from the roof for it.
Wobby fetches it from Cecil's bag and passes it over, along with a pen, before heaving himself into a seat and relaxing. "I do hope we aren't imposing, Lady Merelda," he says.
Ozzy switches into human form as soon as her arm strength is no longer needed, and she suddenly attacks Cecil with a fierce hug.
"I missed you so much," she says as though he has been away at war for a year rather than on a date with her two and a half weeks ago. She missed him Soso much.
Embarrassed, she pulls away immediately and rifles through her backpack. "I got your letter," she says. l wrote on it some, hope that's okay. Made it feel like you were there, and we was talkin', like we do."
She shows him. She has circled "magic bags," "treehouse," and "covered wagon." Under his "fun life" she has written, "YES!!" Either someone has taught her about multiple exclamation points, or she has intuited their use.
Merelda returns to her seat on the back of the carriage, and calls out for Bromley to continue the journey. The horses move a little reluctantly at first (they were pleased by the unexpected break), but soon the entire contraption lurches into motion again along the well-worn Elwynn road.
Wobby and Merelda
"What takes you out to Surwich?" Wobby asks Merelda. "My impression of the Blasted Lands was that they were a bit of an unpleasant wasteland, but I've heard that druids are restoring the Plaguelands, so anything must be possible."
"They were, yes," Merelda says with a nod, leaning back against the carriage. "It was an effort started by Marl Wormthorn, one of our druids. The idea was that we might reclaim the land, bring it to new life, much like like the effort in the Plaguelands. Ozzy and I have been down that way before, months ago, because I was assisting in the design of the town. It truly is amazing the change they've wrought. There are forests there now, at least around the town."
"Forests! Oh, that's exciting. Wasn't that whole area a swamp before?" Wobby strokes his chin. "I wonder what that means."
"Indeed," Merelda says. "That's what I've been told. We'll actually be traveling through the adjacent land that is still swamp, before we get to the Blasted Lands themselves."
"Nasty bugs in swamps," Wobby grumbles. "What's the planned route?"
"We'll be heading east all the way to the Three Corners," Merelda says, watching the trees go by. "Then it's south through Duskwood to Darkshire, and east again through Deadwind. We'll only be cutting through a little corner of the Swamp of Sorrows, then, on our way to Nethergarde. That's where Ada and Callyna will meet us, to travel with us down to Surwich. I've never gone over land before, and I understand there's not exactly a well-established road yet."
"Are Ada and Callyna residents of Surwich?" Wobby guesses.
"Yes," Merelda confirms. "Two young women we spent some time with in the village. They remained when Ozzy and I returned to Stormwind to see to other matters. Once we’re there, we’ll look for Imrolane Palemoon – an ancient kaldorei druid, Ozzy's teacher. She went down to Surwich after we last visited, when we found something… well, disturbing, I suppose I should say… in the forest. She's been monitoring the situation since, and I'm hoping she has good news."
"Something disturbing?" Mr. Cardassus asks. "Is something wrong with the forest?"
Cecil and Ozzy
Cecil returns the hug with enthusiasm and picks a spot to sit near the very center of the roof for the sake of weight distribution, waving her over to sit next to him. He signs I-MISS-YOU-FINISH, poking his chin for 'miss' and turning his spread hands from front to back very quickly to indicate the past tense.
"I missed you," he writes on the notepad. "This" - and he shows her the FINISH sign again - "means finish, but it's also used for the past tense, to turn words like 'miss' into 'missed'. I missed you but now you're here."
Cecil keeps his balance easily on the roof as the wagon lurches into motion, then leans over to look at what she's circled in his letter. He points at "covered wagon" and then taps lightly on the roof with a grin.
I-MISS-YOU-FINISH, Ozzy signs approximately correctly at Cecil. Then I LIKE YOU. She gives him a little glance and smile, half sly, half shy.
Cecil beams at Ozzy and kisses her cheek. He picks up his notepad to write, 'Were you in Kalimdor? I looked for you here but I couldn't find you.'
Ozzy nods at Cecil. "Yeah, I went back to the Howlin' Oak for a bit. I just…" She glances toward the back of the carriage. "I needed some time to think about stuff."
Cecil signs "Howl," which Ozzy knows for sure. He very slowly fingerspells O-A-K, giving her time to try and identify each letter, and then signs what must be the word 'tree': it looks like a tree. He lays his left arm horizontally to represent the ground, supporting his right elbow, and his right forearm stands straight up from it, fingers slightly spread like the branches of a tree. He twists it back and forth like a tree's branches moving in the wind.
Ozzy mimics the latest signs with a smile.
"You know," she says quietly to Cecil, trying to soften her voice enough that the rattle of the carriage wheels makes it hard for Merelda and Wobby to hear, "I'm really glad we ran into you. It's going to be such a long ride, and it'll be nice to have someone to talk to."
Jeez, Ozzy, Merelda is right there.
Cecil nudges her shoulder, points down at where Merelda is sitting, and gives Ozzy a questioning look.
Ozzy leans her shoulder against him and says softly, "I dunno. It's weird now. Anyway, now you're here. I'm so glad. Been thinkin' about you a lot. Dunno why I ran back to Kalimdor. Just… so much rattling around in my 'ead. An' not just my tiff wif Merry." She glances at him uncertainly. "Sometimes when somefing makes me really 'appy I get scared some'ow, and I just wanna run off and be alone for a bit."
Cecil pets her hair affectionately, but shifts to write, 'Does being alone actually help? Or are you just scared of losing whatever made you happy?'
Ozzy thinks about it. It's obvious that introspection is not her strong suit. It's equally obvious that she will drill a hole in her own brain rather than fail to properly answer something Cecil asks her. After a moment he can nearly see steam rising from her scalp.
"It helps with the scared," she says finally. "And for a little bit it helps me perk up, like a nap. But after a day or two I guess I felt kind of… mopey. I just… wished you were there. Or even her," she adds very quietly, as though desiring Merelda's company is the most shameful possible secret.
'I wanted to go see you,' Cecil writes. 'I've never been to Darnassus. Do you get your portals from Cobalt Company? Nobody in the mage tower would send me and I don't own a hearthstone. I would have had to take a ship. I was worried I'd get all the way there and find I'd just missed you.'
"Oh, cor," Ozzy says, sitting back to gaze at him wide-eyed. "You'd've taken a ship?" Her face goes a little pink. "Yeah, though, all the Cobalt people can get portals. Normally you gotta show em your tabard or some documents but the mages mostly know me now. I use portals a lot. Hey, you should join."
Cecil nods seriously. Yes, he would have taken a ship. He writes, 'I don't know if I'd be a very good mercenary. I can fight, but I can't communicate quickly with most people. What if I needed to say "Behind you!" and I made a noise and they looked at me instead? Someone could get hurt.'
From the speed at which he writes this, this might be something he's considered before.
"It's mostly about listenin' and doin' wot yer told," Ozzy says. Uh, then how does she do it? "An' Wobby could come I bet. He could knock a Tauren out, that one." She giggles. "Maybe one day I -" She cuts herself off, some sort of distress flickering through her eyes, and quickly switches tracks. "Anyway that green bubble thing, your mistweavin'? That'd be real useful. I bet there aren't a lot of those in Cobalt."
Cecil smiles a little shyly at Ozzy and starts to write something, but he halts as Wobby asks Merelda about something disturbing, clearly wanting to hear that answer.
Together
"There was, at the time," Merelda says, her lips thinning with worry as she thinks back to their last visit. "Some kind of fel infection of a treant. There's concern that some of the general demonic corruption of the land may be creeping in."
"Ah. That would be incredibly unfortunate. With any hope it is simply an individual bad actor that can be rooted out and removed and not a problem with the location itself." Wobby looks up. "Yes, Lord Cecil, we can have a look when we get there."
Cecil nods, which Ozzy can see and Wobby cannot. He writes, 'We could team up.'
Ozzy reads his note and gives him a crooked smile, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Can you fit a bear in a bubble?" she asks him.
Cecil nods confidently. Hopefully Ozzy does not try to test this while on the roof.
She looks very like she's about to, shifting onto her hands and knees, but then common sense seems to override her enthusiasm, and she sits back down.
"Probably should wait until we get there," she says. "Maybe there will even be a demon to fight!" She kinda sounds like maybe she wants there to be a demon.
"I certainly hope the trouble is not with the land itself," Merelda says firmly, and glances up towards the roof. "And I hope there isn't some demon to fight. I also hope Marl is well — he seemed to scarcely come out of his nurturing trance at all, last I was there."
"But if we fight it, we'll win," Ozzy says a little crossly, aiming her voice toward Merelda. "And then the problem's solved."
Cecil nods eagerly. It looks like maybe he also wants to fight a demon. He begins to draw a bear inside a bubble standing on a cartoonishly dead skull and crossbones.
Ozzy watches the sketch in progress, giggling as it develops.
"Not all problems are so simple to solve," Merelda cautions, and then she's silent for a long moment, watching the trees pass by as they head east along the road towards Redridge.
Time Passes
The caravan bumps along the forest road through Elwynn, eventually passing into red dirt and more open land of Redridge. They pause briefly at the Three Corners — the defensive watchtower commissioned after the Cataclysm — for lunch and some conversation with the local guards, and then the caravan turns south.
As soon as they cross the border into Duskwood, the atmosphere shifts noticeably. The air is gloomier, and not only because of the heavy-canopy trees. There's skittering things in the underbrush and the darkness that seem to hover just on the edge of vision. Bromley pulls a hat tightly over his worgen head, and the horses look a little nervous, but the caravan continues southward, keeping to the road.
"I did some work here before," Ozzy says quietly to Cecil. All four are tucked inside the carriage now, due to the unsafe surroundings. "Lotta feral worgen here. We gotta help 'em or else, you know." She draws a finger across her neck.
"Indeed — I've had to assist in both endeavors, in the time I spent here with HOWL," Merelda adds. "While Ozzy, Bromley and I are naturally quite safe, there are many worgen in this region that have not reclaimed their minds. It is also not a certain thing — they have been worgen for so long, many may not be able to any longer. They are, regretfully, quite dangerous to travelers."
Cecil winces sympathetically and pats Ozzy's knee. He signs a quick sentence which Wobby interprets as, "Lord Cecil says it is good of you to help the worgen."
Cecil looks at Wobby, then Ozzy and Merelda, and more slowly signs, "Good," touching his right hand to his lips and bringing it down to rest against his palm-up left hand.
"Oh, are you teaching them?" Wobby sounds excited. "That sign means 'good'."
Neither of them seem overly concerned about the possibility of becoming worgen.
Merelda copies the gesture, saying out loud, "Good. And yes, I expect Ozzy's a little ahead of me on that front, but Lord Cecil has been teaching both of us. I expect it will make communication easier in the long run."
Merelda's gaze shifts to Ozzy in the last few words, but then she deliberately looks back at Mr. Cardassus with a smile.
Ozzy looks a little surprised and awkward as Merelda mentions learning sign language. Her expression shifts into something slightly wary, very like an adolescent trying to figure out why a parent is "pretending" to be interested in their thing. At "in the long run" her expression changes to one of outright panic, but she says nothing, looking determinedly out the window at the foreboding forest.
Cecil reaches for Ozzy's hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
Wobby smiles, adding additional wrinkles to an already wrinkly face. "It truly eases my heart that Lord Cecil has found someone else around his age to talk to."
"Yeah," Ozzy says. Now that she isn't worried about extra weight, she's chosen worgen form, perhaps to be more ready in case of a sudden emergency, or perhaps because it's more comfortable. "We like a lot of the same stuff, and we never run out of stuff to say. Been good for me, too. He doesn't think I'm weird or anyfing, and I can be fancy, or not, however I feel. He's the best." She says this last as though she is daring anyone to challenge it.
Cecil smiles, pleased but embarrassed, and signs to Ozzy one-handed, "I like you."
Wobby looks unsure if he's supposed to interpret this.
Merelda doesn't challenge it. Instead, she just looks out the window at the passing dark trees, and there's a tinge of sadness to the smile she wears as she says, "It's always good to be around people who understand you."
Ozzy stares out the opposite window, and keeps hold of Cecil' hand. "Hey," she says after a moment. "Can I see your notebook?"
Cecil immediately passes over the notepad and pen with an easy smile. He doesn't have anything pre-written in this one.
She writes, "What have you told pepole about us also who" Her writing has backslid a little thanks to worgen hands.
Cecil takes the pen from her to write, 'I told Wobby and Hubert that we're dating and I gave my father the message I wrote.' He offers her the pen back if she would like to keep communicating silently.
"Are they friendly to civilized worgen in Darkshire?" Wobby asks Merelda.
Ozzy reads the note but does not reply, settling back against her seat thoughtfully.
"They are now, mostly, yes," Merelda nods. "We did considerable outreach here, and there are worgen living over by Raven Hill — we won't go that far west. It is difficult to win the trust of a people who have had such a problem with feral worgen since long before Gilneans rejoined the Alliance. I think, though, they are now largely willing to make the distinction of those who have regained their sapience."
"Ah, excellent," Wobby says. "I would not want any of you to be discriminated against. We will be stopping in Darkshire for the night, I assume?"
"They got an inn," Ozzy says. "Something Raven. Nice beds. Don't order the crab cakes."
"Think kaldorei crab cakes, if you know what I mean," Merelda says dryly. "And yes, we'll stop there, and be ready to head through Deadwind Pass in the morning. I know some of the locals, so I don't think it will be a problem. I do try to maintain human form in town, though, just so as not to startle people."
"Excellent," Wobby says. "I'll take the opportunity to send a letter to let the household know where we are."
Cecil collects his notepad back, flips to a new page, and begins to draw a giant bear asleep in a bed. There are stress lines to indicate that the bed might not last much longer.
Ozzy leans against him to watch him draw, and giggles as the stress lines appear. "See," she says, "this is why I usually just sleep outside. But these people have enough wild creatures runnin' around, makes 'em jumpy, so I'll act all human while we're here."
"It's really just because of their history with feral worgen," Merelda nods. "Anyone would be a little jumpy. It's a shame the curse made it down this way. The land is cursed enough as it is."
"Sorry," Cecil signs, smiling ruefully.
Wobby looks out the window. "I see a massive spider in the treeline," he says, and shudders.
"Crab cakes," Merelda says quietly, and then adds, "They mostly keep to the woods. Let's just… not wander. Not alone." Then she flinches, and cuts a glance towards Ozzy. "Not that I'm in charge. It's just a suggestion."
Cecil forms his hands into fists with the thumbs resting gently on the forefingers in an A-handshape, touches them together, and bounces them gently in place once.
"That means 'with' or 'together,'" says Wobby. "There are some variations on that sign depending on what exactly you want them to say."
Cecil makes the same shape and moves both hands in an arc to the side like they're moving together from one place to another.
"That one implies going somewhere together, accompaniment," Wobby says.
Cecil makes the 'together' handshape and moves his hands in a wide horizontal circle.
"And that one is used to refer to everyone in a group. All together, working together."
Cecil points at himself, then Ozzy, and makes the same 'together' handshape but gently bounces his hands twice instead of once. Wobby does not interpret that one; he looks at Cecil and raises a barely-there brow.
Merelda watches with curiosity, but doesn't ask for an interpretation. Instead, she waits for Ozzy's reaction.
Ozzy studies his face, then her ears fold bashfully. She points at herself, then him, then makes the two-bounce version of the hand sign. Her shy smile helps turn I-YOU-WITH more clearly into, We're Together.
"He says he's wif me," she says, glancing at Merelda as though daring her to object. "You know, like, we're an item." She looks at Wobby, too. Is he going to object? The slight bristle of the fur of her upper arms suggests she is ready to FITE.
"Indeed!" says Wobby, smiling proudly at Ozzy as if she has gotten a good grade on an unexpected quiz.
She… did good? Her eyes go wide. She smiles back hesitantly.
Merelda nods. She had also deduced this from the available clues.
Cecil grins and gives Ozzy a thumbs-up.
Ozzy relaxes, then gazes out the window. Her nose twitches, then her fur bristles in earnest. At a distance, a pair of shadows lope by among the trees, eyes luminous in the gloom, but they don't approach the road.
"Ferals," she growls softly. "Runnin' off though."
Cecil looks towards the driver and the horses with concern before signing, "Guard together." He uses the collective 'together' to indicate that they will all be protecting the caravan.
"Ah, that means to protect, to guard, to keep safe," Wobby explains to Merelda.
"Yes, we must," Merelda nods. "We're working on making Surwich self-sustainable, but there are still things they need. Medicine, food they can't grow locally, that sort of thing."
"Luckily the ferals won't care too much about our supplies," says Ozzy. "They're mostly sniffin' for somethin' to eat, I think, and the carriage makes us too much of a bother. But get too many together and who knows what they'll do. Keep an eye out."
Ozzy gazes alertly out the window, nose twitching.
Cecil turns and looks out the window over Ozzy's shoulder.
Wobby mutters, "…rather punch a feral worgen than a spider…"
Ozzy covers a giggle. This is harder to do in worgen form.
"I admit fighting enormous spiders is not my favorite pastime," Merelda says, with the air of one admitting to preferring backgammon to chess.
Wobby clears his throat. "Nor mine," he says, clearly a little embarrassed. "The correct size for a spider to be is much smaller than I am."
Luckily, no one has to fight an enormous spider, because the caravan arrives in the city of Darkshire. Night Watch patrol the safe streets, and at least no one looks askance at the Gilnean caravan. Bromley pulls the caravan to a stop in front of the inn, and then hops down to open the door and offer assistance to help his passengers down.
As she rises and stretches her shoulders, Merelda says, "Two rooms, I assume? Or should we secure four?"
"I'd be happy to share with Mr. Bromley here," Wobby offers, accepting the help down because he is very short.
Cecil leaves his staff in the wagon, but he hops down, signs, "Princess," to Ozzy, and then offers her a hand down like a gentleman.
Merelda accepts Bromley's help down as well, because she is a lady. Never mind she's also a massive worgen lady sometimes.
Ozzy shrinks down into human form, in which her green vest looks a bit more risque, as she wears nothing under it. She is, however, no longer a worgen, which might have offended the locals more than bare shoulders and a hint of cleavage. Despite her patched trousers, wild hair, and bare feet, she takes Cecil's hand and descends as elegantly though she were attending a gala.
"Thank you, milord," she says in her finest accent, with a twinkle in her eye.
Cecil gives Ozzy an elegant bow. He gestures towards the inn, then offers his arm to escort her. He has not yet expressed any particular opinion on room arrangements.
"I suppose the men in one room and the ladies in the other?" Ozzy says, slipping her arm through Cecil's and continuing to use her very best accent.
"That was my thought, yes," Merelda says with a nod. "Is that acceptable to all?"
Cecil looks at Wobby.
"You can of course have your own room, Lord Cecil," Wobby says reassuringly. "Lord Cecil prefers not to eat in front of others, and would like the privacy," he explains to Bromley.
"If they don't have three rooms available," Ozzy says, "Merry and I can sleep outside, as bears." This is a strange thing to say in a posh Stormwind accent.
"I don't imagine Darkshire is such a sought after destination," Merelda says, and then seems to realize this is a rude thing to say right in front of the inn, as she adds, "This time of year. Mr. Bromley, you'll request three rooms? And be human, please."
"Yes, ma'am," he nods, and there's a shimmer before he turns into a middle-aged human man, brown hair mixed with gray. He turns to head into the inn.
Cecil enters with Ozzy on his arm, but holds the door open for Wobby and Merelda to follow inside.
Ozzy tries to smooth her hair a bit once she's inside; it's a lost cause. "I got coin," she says. "I can pay for my own."
Cecil nods to her, not arguing. Whether Ozzy or Merelda want to split the cost of their room or not is up to them.
"I wouldn't ask…" Merelda pauses, turning to Ozzy, and says, "As you like. You may also procure your own room, should you prefer."
"We'll see what they have and for how much," Ozzy says with as much dignity as she can muster.
Cecil smiles encouragingly at Ozzy. This is entirely reasonable of her.
Bromley comes back over to the group with his hands in his pockets and nods politely to lords and ladies and everyone.
In his low, gruff voice, he says, "They have rooms. Three or four, as we need." He explains the prices, which are fairly moderate as far as inns go, likely not a major burden to the finances of Soso or Veyne House.
Ozzy fidgets. "I'll split one wif you," she says to Merry, her accent slipping.
"Of course, I'm sure we'll fit in one room comfortably," Merelda says, nodding at how sensibly Ozzy makes her decisions.
"Thank you," Cecil signs to Bromley.
"Lord Cecil says thank you, Mr. Bromley," says Wobby. "What do they have to eat here that isn't, ehem, crab cakes?"
"Seasoned wolf kababs," Ozzy says with an ironic and slightly too wide smile. "But also they do a good potato soup usually. I dunno what else they got. I usually just got the soup when I was workin' here with the Cobalts."
"I'll never turn down a good kebab," Wobby says.
Cecil signs, "Soup," one hand cupped like a bowl while the other hand pretends to spoon soup towards his mouth.
"Of course, Lord Cecil," says Wobby agreeably, and waddles off to order for the two of them.
"She does mean wolf kebabs," Merelda reassures Cecil. "Ordinary wolves are actually native to the region. I think the soup is quite good — I hope you'll enjoy it."
Cecil nods to Merelda and signs, "Wolf." She may recognize it from earlier.
Merelda signs it back, maybe as confirmation, or just to show she is retaining knowledge.
"Mr. Bromley, will you see to our order as well?" Merelda asks politely. "Soup for myself and… I think for Miss Gr… Ozzy as well?" She glances over at the younger woman for agreement on that last.
"Yeah. I can pay for that, too," Ozzy says.
"If you like," Merelda says, and Bromley heads over to make their order.
Merelda moves over towards a table near the front of the common room, with the clear assumption that Ozzy and Cecil will join her.
Cecil does accompany Merelda, pulling a chair out for her to sit in, and then another one for Ozzy. "Princess," he signs playfully to Ozzy.
Ozzy flashes him a little smile, sitting down and attempting once again to put her hair in order. Again, she fails. She clears her throat awkwardly and glances at Merelda.
"So um," she says to Merelda, "Wot've you been up to past couple weeks? Any news?"
"I'm winding down on a number of projects in Stormwind," Merelda says, considering. "That was when I heard news that the latest ship to Surwich had gone missing, and they were short some necessities. With less work filling my days, it seemed prudent to fill them with something else. So, here we are. How have your last few weeks been?"
"Been doin' odd jobs for the Cenarion Circle," she says. "For pay. Nuffing too excitin' but I was able to do some good, I fink. Helpin' balance places, cull predators, get rid of invasive plants, that kinda thing."
"Valuable work," Merelda nods. "The more I work with Shan'do Silvershade and the other druids, the more this whole world seems to feel like an enormous garden, with corners that seem to flourish effortlessly and others that need careful nurturing to bloom."
Cecil takes a seat, flips to a fresh page, and begins to doodle idly. It's a stack of three pigs with tiaras.
Ozzy leans in to see what he's drawing, then giggles that very particular Cecil Drawing Giggle. She turns then to Merelda, decisively.
"I want to use that room you set aside for me to put some of Cecil's drawings up on the walls," she says.
Merelda does not offer any opposition to this idea. Instead, there's a faint intake of breath and a glimmer of brightness in her eyes that seems happy, before she gives a composed nod to Ozzy. "I think that sounds like a lovely idea. The walls will work well for display. If you need to remove anything that's hanging there currently, or shift the furniture to allow for more wall space, I can have the staff see to it."
Cecil smiles softly and continues to refine the doodle, adding more definition and detail to the pigs.
"I love their little curly tails," Ozzy says to him. "You seem to look at animals a lot. You're good at drawin' em. So you like animals I guess? Even besides me?" She flushes suddenly. "I don't mean, you like 'em the same way you like me. I mean, just like, you seem to have a lot of details of 'em in your mind so I thought maybe you like watchin' wildlife or…" She turns redder and looks toward the kitchen. "Wonder if they have the soup made up already or if they gotta make a new kettle."
Cecil's eyes shine with amusement, but he doesn't laugh at her, just flips to a new page and writes, 'Yes, I like animals.'
"Do you enjoy drawing structures at all?" Merelda asks, looking at the stack of three pigs. "That is something of a specialty of mine, but generally more for practical than artistic use."
Cecil considers this. 'Mostly I just doodle what comes to mind. I'm as likely to draw a building as a forest.'
"He's got sharp eyes, he must," Ozzy says admiringly.
"If you have creative building doodles sometime, I'd love to see them," Merelda says with a smile. "I appreciate things that might spark new ideas in design."
Cecil nods to Merelda, but doesn't produce anything. There isn't much in this notepad.
Wobby returns to the table and claims the seat across from Cecil, placing his pack on the chair and sitting on that to boost his height a little. "Kebabs are cooking, but you ladies should get your soup very soon," he tells them. There is no mention of Cecil's soup.
Bromley arrives soon after, and he settles into a chair at the table, nodding deference to the lords and ladies (he includes Ozzy in the nod). "Soup's just got to be ladled," he confirms, with a gruff nod to Wobby as well.
It's barely a few moments afterward when Trelayne, a formidable dark-haired woman in a midriff-baring red and purple skirt and top, walks over with a tray and two bowls of potato soup, which she sets in front of Merelda and Ozzy. "Here you are, weary travelers. Always good to see you lot around these parts."
Ozzy gives her a big grin, then picks the bowl up with both hands and begins slurping it, potato chunks and all. It appears she hasn't eaten in weeks. (She has.)
Cecil smiles politely at the server and returns to his three pigs drawing, where he adds a bowl of soup in front of the pig on the bottom.
Merelda tucks into her own soup with a little more restraint, but no less appreciation. The table is silent for a little while, and then Merelda says, "I'm not certain where we might stop for lunch tomorrow, so we'll either need to have trail food or bring something from Darkshire with us."
Ozzy stops inhaling her soup long enough to study Cecil with a trace of concern.
Cecil looks fine. He ate up on the caravan roof at lunch earlier, facing away from everyone but Ozzy. He does not have a worgen's appetite - he is probably hungry, but can wait to eat.
"That's fine," says Wobby. "We'll see what we can get here tomorrow."
Merelda nods. "There are no settlements in Deadwind Pass, save Karazhan, and we're certainly not going there. And then in the swamp, there's nothing really along our path."
"Tomorrow's gonna- be unpleasant," Ozzy says, clearly diverting from some more crude description halfway through. "Wish I could sing or somethin' to make it more fun, but I'm told I sing off key. Maybe Mr. Cardassus has some good stories or somefing to pass the time, since the scenery's gonna be the absolute worst?"
She looks at him curiously, then inhales some more soup.
"Oh, I'm full of stories," Wobby says. "Whether or not they're good, well, that can be for you to judge!" He laughs heartily.
Ozzy sets down her bowl to clap excitedly in anticipation. "I'll bet your stories are dead brilliant," she says earnestly.
"I expect we'll have ample opportunity to hear some of them," Merelda says with a nod. "But then — we could take turns, perhaps? For those who'd like to tell a story, a fanciful one or one that really happened."
"Certainly!" Wobby looks across the table at Cecil. "Better think of a good one tonight, then."
Ozzy wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. "I'll just listen," she says. "I dunno any fairy tales or nuffing, and my true stories tend to upset people." She smiles wryly.
"A lot of mine do too," Wobby says to Ozzy. "I'm from Gnomeregan. But I have seen a dwarf step on his own beard and fall down some stairs. There's gotta be something."
Ozzy giggles. "I'll fink it over tonight," she says. "Maybe I got somefing."
"I'll think as well," Merelda says with a nod, setting her spoon aside. "As I don't have one prepared. But at least it sounds as though it won't be a dull journey, in such company."
A Night Passes
The next morning, the caravan starts nice (but not bright, this is Duskwood) and early, heading down the road to the east towards Deadwind Pass. As they pass out of the forest and into the dusty, lifeless pass, the sound of birdsong falters and falls. Now, instead of the skittering sounds of the dark forest, there is a silence that seems somehow more oppressive. The four passengers are inside the carriage today, by request of Bromley who has driven over these narrow paths before.
Merelda sits in the carriage in human form, so as not to crowd, but she seems more at ease today, despite the grim surroundings. As the wheels clatter on, she says, "Who would like to begin with the stories?"
Wobby is more dressed today than he was yesterday. It is not a full suit, but his long pants and dark green shirt are appropriate for better mobility. "When I was as small as a tadpole," he says, "and had advanced from crawling to walking, I got myself lost in a factory. Walked right onto a conveyor belt."
Cecil opens his notepad and begins to draw.
Merelda's eyebrows climb, and she says, "That sounds rather dangerous for a small child."
Worgen-form Ozzy, who had been staring flat-eared out the carriage window at the eerily silent dead landscape, turns to give Wobby her rapt attention.
"Oh, it's very dangerous! A worker snatched me off the assembly line before I reached any of the nasty bits." Wobby chuckles. "And then they gave me a lollipop while they fetched my mother, so I'd say I had a satisfactory experience."
Merelda smiles. "I expect it might have been more enduringly frightening for the mother rather than the child in immediate danger."
"Wot were you like as a girl, Merry?" Ozzy says, as though she can't even imagine such a thing.
"A little unruly, by my family's standards," Merelda says, thinking back with a bit of a smile. "Perhaps you wouldn't have found me so. Maybe a better word is willful, but my fath— it was indulged for a while, as I was the second child. I liked the water especially — swimming, sailing — my mother was determined I would ruin my complexion."
"I like swimming," Cecil signs, and the sign for swim once again looks a lot like what it is.
"Lord Cecil says that he likes swimming," Wobby interprets. "He grew up near a lake."
"Do you have any funny childhood stories?" Ozzy says to Cecil with a warm smile. "Or interesting ones from any point in your life before we met?"
Cecil flips through his notepad and finds a page, then turns it out to face everyone else so they can read what has been pre-written. He probably wrote this last night.
'When I was ten, my brother Hubert took part in a fishing competition and I came along to support him.'
Beneath that is a rough doodle of a bunch of stick figures fishing by a lake, everyone with a bucket near their feet.
'I really wanted my big brother to win, so I tried to cheat the competition.'
Another drawing: A young Cecil, his hair parted perfectly down the center, reaching into a bucket.
'I thought I could just move an extra fish or two from an opponent's bucket into his and maybe nobody would notice.'
He waits for everybody to get a chance to finish reading. There's probably another page.
Ozzy takes longer than the rest to finish, but it's obvious when she does, because she laughs and says, "Oh no… Ceeee-cillllll…" in a fake-scolding tone.
Cecil turns the page.
It says, 'EVERYBODY NOTICED.'
Beneath that is a comic-style series of images of the fish slipping out of Cecil's hands, Cecil chasing it as it tries to return to the lake, Cecil grabbing at it and missing, the fish doing a comedic loop-de-loop in the air, and finally the fish returning to the lake with a thought bubble that reads, "Freedom!"
Merelda actually giggles at the image of desperately escaping fish. It is not entirely dignified.
Ozzy giggles as well, and then giggles twice as uncontrollably at the sound of Merelda's giggle.
Wobby laughs. "Cecil's defense was that he felt sorry for the fish. This is the first I'm learning that it was planned from the start."
"Sorry," Cecil signs to Wobby, grinning.
"Naughty boy," Ozzy says with a twinkle in her eye.
"Did your brother win in the end?" Merelda asks, still smiling.
Cecil shakes his head no. Hubert, a teenager, did not actually beat all the experienced adult fisherfolk.
"He caught one fish, if I recall correctly," Wobby says.
Ozzy giggles. "That's about my haul when I try it," she confesses.
Cecil nods. He flips to a blank page.
"Have you thought of a story you'd like to share, Miss Gravehowl?" Wobby asks Ozzy.
Merelda turns to Ozzy, crossing her hands in her lap and listening attentively.
Ozzy shifts her weight. "I tried," she said, her accent going full Gilnean. "But I couldn't fink of one that would be any improvement on the view outside the carriage." She smiles wryly, but then lets a little spark of something softer into her eyes. "I fink," she says a little shyly, "maybe all my good stories are in the future."
Cecil gives her an encouraging thumbs-up and smiles. He's in favor of that.
"Of course, I quite understand," Wobby says kindly. "Lady Merelda, what about you?"
There's a flicker of something deeply sad in Merelda's eyes as Ozzy speaks, but she quickly smiles as Wobby addresses her. "I have thought of a story, yes — about the water. It was when I was… I believe eighteen? Before Ozzy and I had met. In those days, my parents were trying to make an advantageous match for me with a young nobleman. I was proving… difficult, for reasons I would understand more fully myself not too much later."
Merelda smiles wryly, and says, "The parents involved in this particular prospective match thought that if I at least shared some of my interests with the young fellow, it might spark something. Thus, it was determined I would take him sailing. He was not a sailor."
Ozzy giggles in anticipation.
"I suppose the gentleman agreed, due to the prospect of being on a one-person boat, unchaperoned, with a 'wild' young lady," Merelda says with a gleam in her eyes. "Regrettably, as it became clear what sort of liberties he was expecting to take, we came upon a sort of boating accident."
Merelda pauses for a breath, and then adds, "By which I mean, I flipped the boat." She smiles. "The fellow did not seem to appreciate the excellent opportunity to impress me with his claimed swimming prowess. He was a good swimmer, I'll admit."
Ozzy's eyes go wide, and then she throws back her head and howls with laughter. Given her current form, this is rather literal.
Merelda laughs as well, smiling at Ozzy with a touch of pride in her eyes, even if her cheeks are a little red.
Cecil's eyes flare with anger as it becomes clear the direction the story is going, and when Merelda says that she flipped the boat, that anger transmutes into a dark sort of satisfaction. "Good," Cecil signs with emphasis.
Wobby applauds heartily. "My word. Well done, Lady Merelda."
Ozzy nods with firm agreement.
"The story receives a better reception now than it did back then," Merelda says with a chuckle. "Apparently it being an accident allowed everyone imvolved to save face, and I wasn't allowed back on the water for a long while, 'for my own safety'. I don't regret it, though."
Cecil does not seem entirely satisfied with that solution. He signs, YOU NOT SWIM FINISH?
"You weren't allowed to swim?" Wobby clarifies.
"Or sail, for some time," Merelda nods. "It was… a kind of battle of wills, I suppose. I did resolve it, in time — before I met Ozzy. I came to an agreement with my parents, you could say, about what parts of my life were mine to control."
Ozzy frowns for some reason, and starts to gaze out the carriage window as though to detach from the conversation. Then she remembers why she wasn't gazing out the window, and gazes at Cecil instead. Not as though she wants his attention or to say something to him, but just with the sort of half-conscious stare she might have directed out the window.
Merelda looks down at her hands for a moment, and says, "The best ending of the story is at the moment of flipping the boat. Maybe that's a part of storytelling I haven't mastered yet, choosing the right ending."
"How do you know when a story ends, anyway?" Ozzy muses quietly, shifting her gaze to look at nothing in particular. "You never know what might happen later that's actually part of it."
Cecil points at her and then makes a sign like he's plucking something out of the air between his thumb and forefinger.
"You choose," Wobby says.
"And then…" Merelda says, looking at Cecil. "Maybe sometimes you can change your mind later, when you learn something new."
'Or make chapters.' Cecil holds up his notepad.
Ozzy grins lopsidedly. "I really gotta start readin' more," she says. "I think it changes the whole way you think about things."
Merelda sits back, a little more relaxed, and smiles. "Many things do, I think. That among them."