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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | Natalyah invites Aze over for a chat before the start of the week of Winter Veil to ask for some advice, and to maybe get a little maudlin. She makes sure they are well fortified with wine and cookies and tequila to counterbalance. Or swing them even more wildly around. One of those. Plans are made. 9800~ words. Personal Plot RP. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
Natalyah and Lathrik's Stormwind house doesn't have any magical energy that can be sensed by a demon hunter to give it a particular look through another sight, and yet somehow there's something so aggressively festive about the decorations placed upon it that the aura is palpable along the energy sensing abilities from the sin'dorei side — a part of a person that can just tell that someone has done something here, defiantly, as if daring people to not think that the person within it isn't celebrating this holiday hard enough.
The door practically vibrates with whatever has been put on it — lights? something electronic or electric — and it smells so strongly of pine that it's enough to make a regular person's eyes water, so how Natalyah stands it is anyone's guess. Finding a clear place to knock might also be a challenge, as the smell of pine is coming from the fact that there appears to be not one, not two, not three, but four wreaths on the door.
Natalyah takes her dares very, very, very seriously.
She's inside the house, as the golden light of the Scientist of the Light worgen reveals, floating ominously and listlessly around the kitchen area, just within close enough range to be visible from the door.
Aszera Sunstrike arrives to the residence of Natalyah and Lathrik right on time for a casual social engagement, which in this case means within thirty minutes after the requested time and definitely not earlier. She's in boots, slacks and cream-colored blouse again, her usual casual attire when not attending fancy parties, this time with a dark purple fitted jacket over top and her black cloak for warmth.
Aze approaches the door, sniffs the overpowering pine scent, and gives kind of an amused hm. Maybe it's a nice change from her usual fel-lavender-mint.
The door poses more of a complication. Where to knock without destroying something? She kind of feels around the pine and cones for a few seconds, and then decides to go with the glowy figure not that far inside, instead.
"Hello?" Aze calls. "I don't want to crush your wreaths."
Aze doesn't have the super hearing of the worgen, but she can tell that Natalyah does hear her, because the worgen's attention visibly moves the energy inside, and Natalyah glides over the floor at what would be an alarming speed for some to the door, yanking it wide open, where it bangs against the wall.
"Aze!" Natalyah says with a laugh, slightly wicked tilted. "Sinners and martyrs, is it that time already? Come on in. At least you didn't just break in like Ren." She floats back into the house, leaving room for Aze to enter.
The house doesn't feel quite like it did before Lathrik left. There's a chaos to it, everywhere; it's not as clean, or as tidy, or as well kept. Before, there was a sense that the place was being kept especially nice and homey, like it wasn't allowed to be dark or dingy or depressing. But now… there's something about it that feels like there's a little bit of loss in the corners, an accumulation of dust and scattered things, like the reason to try so hard isn't there, and it piles up.
Natalyah is mid-baking something, because the oven is on, but she hasn't started actually baking yet, the ingredients still on the counter in a bowl, the smell of sugar, butter, flour, and vanilla in the air nearly overwhelmed by the (at least less strong compared to the exterior) scent of pine coming from an enormous tree in the living room. It doesn't fit in the house — Natalyah misjudged it, or the salesperson dared her in some way, and it has been bent over, the last four inches of the tree top along the ceiling, with the top star dangling from being pinned against the ceiling. It's fine.
"I found two actual bottles of Brightsong Wine for you, because I promised you good stuff and I've been told it's good, and I got us a bottle of Cuergo's Gold, in case I get maudlin at you, as a reward for listening to me get mopey," Natalyah tells her as she makes her way back to the bowl, trusting in Aze to shut the door.
"I would never break in," Aze says, a hand over her heart as she closes the door and turns to follow Natalyah. "Unless, you know, you had a secret entrance through a window or something, to avoid disturbing the decorations."
Aze's expression brightens as adds, "Brightsong? That's fucking awesome. I've just been going for whatever's cheap at the store down the street, tastes red. That's worth a lot of maudlin and mopey. Not that I'd mind it anyway, but the two go well with drunk, in my experience." She pauses at the entrance to the kitchen, breathing in the scent. "Baking something for Winter Veil? Cookies? I'm really gr… not great at baking, to be honest. Never had the patience for it. Don't let me pretend otherwise after the Cuergo's."
Natalyah laughs with that tinkling, unfettered sound. She might have been defensive about her own baking skills if Aze had asked, but with Aze's own deficiencies laid out honestly on the table, she instead offers her own. "Oh, don't ask me to bake anything other than cookies. I learned them for Almeiria, and it took me an ungodly amount of tries. I thought cooking was terrible. Cooking so far has been like experimental science of ingredients and temperature. Baking is like I swear the dough has moods." She prods the dough aggressively with her spoon, as if daring it to have a mood this time. (That sort of thing might be why she thinks it has moods.)
"These cookies are for you, and me. I meant to have them done already. I'm also trying to make sure I have these right for Winter's Veil. I wanted to make a fruit cake, but the first one I made turned out to be a rock. And I do mean a rock. An actual rock, it's out there in the garden outside." She gestures with the spoon in the direction of the backyard. "Even the bugs don't seem to want it, which is insulting."
"Cookies, for us," Aze says, brightening, and she doesn't seem concerned by confessed baking deficiencies and the rock of a fruit cake that even bugs don't want. These are going to be amazing cookies, certainly. "Well, I'm here now, so I can help. Maybe. I can help make the dough into cookie shape when it's time, if you want." That is probably around the level of help little Aze once offered her big sister in the kitchen.
"Cooking is not really my thing either," Aze admits. "If I could, I'd just live off the ready-made things they have in stores all the time. Or wine. Or, you know, hire a cook? I guess that's a thing some people do, but I don't really have the apartment for it." Yes, that is the true barrier for hiring a full-time cook for one person, lack of sufficient kitchen space. Not money.
"I didn't cook before Lathrik. I mean, we, the Kensington-Whits, had a cook, before, obviously," Natalyah says as a former rich noblewoman. She picks up the wine bottle in the other hand, and pours Aze a generous glass, sliding it over as she makes space in the kitchen for the cookie participation because it was an if she wants, rather than implication that Natalyah will need the help. "But Lathrik didn't cook either. He just ate at the barracks on duty, and made do. We had the worst set up before. It was a hot plate that Elle made and a fireplace. I can't believe I made anything out of it. Lathrik will eat anything I make though, no matter what." She looks out at the garden and her voice gets wobbly. "He'd have eaten the fruit cake."
She sniffles and pours herself the same generous glass of wine. She downs half of it. So that's going well.
Aze quickly tosses back a significant fraction of her own glass in sympathy. Then she pauses and takes another, smaller sip, to enjoy the flavor. This is wine to savor, after all. The good stuff. You should always savor after the gulping.
"I've got some experience with cooking meals, just not…" Aze gestures vaguely with her wine glass, and somehow doesn't spill anything. "…not a thing I do if I've got an alternative. I don't think I'd have been up to that level of improv cooking though, so I'm impressed." She pauses. "Lathrik, huh?"
Maybe it's an observation about his top-notch fruit cake eating abilities. Maybe it's just an open invitation to elaborate on the topic.
Natalyah sniffles and stirs the dough aggressively. (This might also be why some dough related projects don't seem to come out right. The cookie dough holds up well enough under this treatment, at least.)
"If I start talking about him now, I'm going to cry and we'll have to reach for the Cuergo, and then Cuergo's going to tell us that we can make an amazing fruitcake together if we try hard and believe in ourselves," Natalyah says with an honest tartness. "Which might actually happen later, and then Lathrik will have a package in the mail I don't remember sending. I do want to talk about Lathrik. It's hard not talking about him, really. But, I did have something I wanted to ask you while I'm sober. It's about Winter's Veil, and you're the only person I know who socializes with death knights. I've invited Harvey to come to Winter's Veil feast with Lathrik's parents and Peril. I wanted to know what you do with your family to make it, you know, something normal-like or whatever."
"Oh, um," Aze says, and then reconsiders her wine glass. She takes another gulp of that tasty Brightsong. "You wanted to ask me about having a normal-like family. That's… well. I mean. How do you… define… normal?"
"I can give you whatever advice I can," Aze says, an open honesty in her tone. "Maybe my family used to be pretty ordinary. Mom, dad, two sisters. Now we're undeath and the fel, so that's how that turned out. And, of course, living in a society primarily made up of a different species. But yeah, sure, you can have a death knight at a party. Harvey did alright at my dance party, over at Fallon House. You might want a blanket you can toss over his head, in case he goes a little Mourny. That worked when Rae did it."
Natalyah pauses in her stirring, head turned to look at Aze. "Oh, you're serious. All right," she says. "A blanket. I don't mean normal, you know, like I'm trying to make him a living person. Obviously, nothing about this is going to be normal. Lathrik's mother isn't normal; I'm not normal. I don't think even before anything happened that Lathrik's father was normal. And Peril is a warlock. So, undeath and fel right here, too, plus a worgen curse. And a fruit cake.
"But, you know, do you do anything with the holiday stuff to make it less… I don't know. Winter Veil wasn't exactly a cheery thing when my parents did it. It was cold and stiff and no one was happy. I'm making this all up as I go now." There's a defensive note in her voice, as if Aze might accuse her of doing it wrong, or maybe the world might, like Natalyah can't figure it out for having come from such a place herself, to not be able to make a nice holiday with a scarred Twilight's Hammer cultist, a warlock, a death knight, and a Fray.
"We didn't really have winter when I was growing up," Aze offers, swirling the wine in her wine cup speculatively. "I might not be the best person to give advice on winter traditions. But for being an… alternative sort of family? My advice would be to lean into it. Just let people be fucking weird. Maybe Mourn threatens to bathe in somebody's blood or whatever, don't make a big thing of it. Just be like, ha, wild idea Harvey, here have some eggnog. I think a lot of un-cheeriness comes from wishing things were different than they are."
Natalyah makes an irritated sound as she plops out the cookie dough, and pulls over a rolling pin to whack it on the dough. "That actually does sound familiar, so maybe you do understand, but that's not quite what I'm really asking. I'm not frightened by Harvey or Mourn. I've been out there with him when he's literally bathing in blood, oooo, I'm the Lord of Blood, gurgle gurgle. I've ripped out throats right next to him. Lathrik was worried he and Fray will get into it, and I'll tell you the same thing I told him: no one is fighting on Winter's Veil. I won't let it happen." She has to drop down to the ground to balance on one leg to actually put force down on the dough, but she does, with enough strength to press it flat.
"I'm not worried about what Harvey will do or say, or that he's going to ruin it or whatever. I'm — it's the other way around. It's not exactly a death knight sort of holiday. Everything is all — " She breaks off halfway through whatever thought that was going to be. "But your sister and brother-in-law found something, right? They're not Harvey, I know that. But, you do something that makes the holiday not so anti-death-knight-y, don't you? I just don't want Harvey to show up and feel like he thinks he knows he doesn't belong here. Like it was pity or something. Like everything tells him, this is a living person thing, don't ever do this again. I want him to come back next year. I want him to have a reason for it. I thought maybe you might know of a deathy-sort of…thing that isn't too weird?"
"Hm," Aze says, and for a little while that's all she says, enjoying more wine while Natalyah prepares the dough.
"I think… it might be a little different than Yara and Roper's situation. If they were ever invited somewhere socially, I think they'd go," Aze says, leaning against the counter in contemplation. "I give presents for Winter Veil, things I think they'll like. Not because they're death knights, but just… who they are. That might be your way to go. Like, if you do little festive saronite wreaths it might feel like trying too hard. Also, you know, not great for Lathrik's mom. But maybe if you did something he would like — not the guy he was before he died, but who he is now.'
"Well I'm not boxing up Ralaea, and a tub of blood, but I am getting things for him," Natalyah says archly, as she drinks more of her wine pointedly. She uses a knife to slice down the center of the rolled out dough, then picks up something, and sets it down next to Aze. "This is a sparkler ornament cookie cutter, for you. It's got some jagged edges for the 'sparkler,' so you have to push the sides when you press it out," she orders more than really suggests, but that's the habitual tone she has sometimes, even when she means well. "You do that side, and I'll do this side. Mine's candy canes, because obviously."
Aze nods, taking up the sparkler ornament cookie cutter, utterly unfazed by the tone of order, and moves over to start preparing her side of the dough.
"Yeah, a tub of blood might fall under a little too on-the-nose for a death-knight-specific gift," Aze says with a laugh. "Though I don't know, maybe some other kinds of people are into that, too? Some kind of… death mages. Or clinics, maybe they can use tubs of blood? Anyway, I know you've probably got gifts and things like that under control. It was just an example of keeping him included in all the regular things, taking into account the parts of him that aren't death and pain, and not making a big thing of it. But maybe that you've already got that part down too, and you meant…" Aze pauses "…like what Winter Veil traditions do the Sunstrikes have, as a death knight family?"
"Sort of, yes. I mean, I have all the things for Solari and Fray, too. I'm not going to be making a death knight Winter Veil that would creep them out or scare Peril. I just don't want Harvey to think he's somehow at the wrong party, either. And, of course, there's things for me and traditions for when Lathrik is —" She breaks off with a brittle sound. There's a shaky inhale and another sniffle. "You have to hear about what I'm making for dinner. It's a Silly Goose. I can't even — It happened entirely by accident in the most ridiculous way and I love it so much," Natalyah says with the sort of cackle that belongs to a villain, not a Light Scientist, but here we are. She pours Aze more wine. "It's half food, half craft, all ridiculous nightmare."
"Okay, yeah, I have to hear about this," Aze says with a grin, pressing down on the edges of the cookie cutter carefully, as instructed. "Do tell me, what exactly is a Silly Goose?"
"Well, I went out to get a goose, and a proper whole recipe for it, because it's an entire situation. So I ask the woman about getting a goose and how I can dress it up. And I think that's what went wrong. I said dress it up," Natalyah repeats. "Because I remember, she repeated that back to me, three times, and I thought she thought I was being stupid, because I knew what I meant. You know, the plucking and feathers and whatever. But I said it like that, and I guess she thought I must have meant another thing, and was too intimidated to correct me, so she sends me to get signed up for reserve for a goose and the groceries, and a craft store."
"Don't tell me you're going to make little clothes for the goose?" Aze asks, laughing, as she makes another cookie shape. "What kind of fashion with the goose be wearing?"
"He has bows. He has a pinecone for a head. I made him a bonnet," Natalyah cackles.
Aze laughs, pausing with the cookie cutter down to have another sip of wine. She may need another refill soon at this rate. "It sounds wonderful. You can tell people you had the fanciest goose dinner in all of Stormwind. I'd ask you to draw me a picture, but well…" she gestures vaguely at her face. "I have imagination. This creature is amazing in my imagination."
Natalyah pours herself more wine, and tops off Aze while she's at it. "He's going to be so amazing. It wasn't until I went back to get a second larger goose after I invited Harvey — and Bren, of course — and asked if I would need to adjust the other dressing ingredients and the grocer that day looked at me like I was totally mad that I realized something was odd. The more I talked to her, the more I understood what had happened, but I'm absolutely not changing anything, and I've dubbed it my Silly Goose, and it's the only way I'm making goose forever now. So, that's Tradition Number One of the Dinnsfield-Kensington-Whits," she says imperiously, holding up her wine glass in a classic cheers.
Aze reaches over to clink her glass, has a bit more wine, and says, "I like that tradition. Seems like it'll make the cooking more fun, too. If all cooking was like that, I might enjoy it more."
The Silly Goose was a nice diversion from the question of Sunstrike holiday traditions. Aze sets down the wine to return to the cookies, focusing on making perfect little sparkler ornaments. Finally, she says, "I might be more experienced with the whole death knight thing, but not by a lot. My first Winter Veil with the family was two years ago." That was more than a year after the death knights were freed, if anyone's counting. "That was up in Northrend, in a little tuskarr yurt."
"A yurt?" Natalyah asks, because that's the relevant question. "A tuskarr?" Because that's the second relevant question. "Wait, those… little round people? The walruses?"
"Yeah, walrus people," Aze says, pressing the cookie cutter down again. "They were more accepting of death knights than I'd have expected. I guess it fit nicely into their mythology? They had a non-evil death spirit, Karkut, that guided people to like.. the afterlife, I guess. So yeah, death knights are Karkut's little helpers. Anyway, also they helped keep vrykul sea spirits out of one of their sacred villages, so the tuskarr let them stay in a yurt. I stayed there with them, for a while."
"Did the tuskarr do anything for Winter's Veil? Do they have any sort of like 'Karkut's Littler Helpers' like 'Greatfather Winter's Little Helpers' sort of death knight things? Did the yurt have anything interesting in it? Did you do anything special that was only a Northrend sort of thing?" Sure, Natalyah could ask one question at a time, but then Aze might wonder if it's Natalyah.
"You know, I really am good with parties, but heartwarming family ones are not my best strength," Aze says, carefully lining up her cookies and then skimming a hand over the remaining dough, maybe to check where the edges are. "Let me see what I can remember. The tuskarr observed Winter's Veil in like a 'Hey look at all this snow, it's the Veil of fucking Winter!' sort of way, but not really with trees and presents and things. They were weirdly matter of fact about it, seemed to think Greatfather Winter was some guy who lived up in the mountains. And he's not Karkut, sadly, though I don't see why the Winter guy and the Death guy can't be the same guy."
Aze pauses for more wine, and adds, "That is, there were decorations in their village, because dwarves get everywhere with that shit. But the Tuskarr weren't really all that into it. The yurt was… interesting, but more of a Roper and Yara interesting. They like candles, otherwise keep things in kind of a sin'… quel'dorei style, and… they had an oven built outside. They did most of the cooking. I guess it should tell you something that I didn't do it, when I'm the one who can like, smell and taste things." She pauses. "There was a lot of fish."
"Candles," Natalyah repeats experimentally. "But, ugh, fish. I used to like fish. But now fish smells so much. If it wasn't alive two seconds ago, it's too dead for me." She pauses, to either think about it or maybe to examine her cookie dough, balling it up and rolling out what little she has left. "But I guess they don't have to worry about that. So, you did candles and fish?"
"Yeah, candles and fish," Aze says, smushing the remains of her own dough together. "Though they kind of just like candles in general. Maybe that's a death knight thing? You could get like, festive death-y candles, maybe. Dark wax, skull-shaped, something like that?" Aze laughs, pressing the dough flat with the heel of her hand. "Maybe I had the opposite problem you're thinking of for your party. I was the odd one out, the living person. So they did sort of do like you're saying, in the inverse — they made living stuff for me, like food and drink."
Natalyah slows down her aggressive dough smooshing for that. "A festive death-y candle. Maybe. The Twilight's Hammer sort of go in for the weird culty-candle thing, too. Maybe I could do something where everyone gets a candle type though. And lights are sort of a Winter Veil thing, you know. Well, we won't do anything like chant something or whatever when we light them, and it won't be the same thing." She whacks the dough with the rolling pin.
Because Natalyah says so. She dares anyone to suggest that she's doing cult-y things at her Winter Veil party.
"Oh, that could be neat," Aze says, flattening the dough out with both hands. Maybe she hasn't thought of reaching for the rolling pin. "It kind of combines activities, gifts, and decorations. And it's not like you'd have the pulse-haver candles and then a different dead-guy candle, but like, each one different and specific to the person. I think as long as you don't aim to summon in any kind of Old God or whatever, you're safe from it seeming culty, even if you did do like… a Winter Veil chant."
Natalyah, probably the wine, chants, "'GREATFATHER WINTER, OH GREAT SOME GUY WHO LIVES UP IN THE MOUNTAINS, BLESS OUR SILLY GOOSE! BLESS OUR FRUIT CAKE! BLESS US AND DO NOT LIGHT US ALL ON FIRE!'" It's as far as she gets before she loses it in her own laugh.
Aze collapses into laughter, leaning her elbows on the counter and holding her head. "BLESS OUR YURTS AND OUR TOWNHOUSES. MAY OUR FOWL BE FOREVER WELL-DRESSED."
Natalyah howls with laughter — not literally, which one does have to specify with worgen in Azeroth — as she holds onto her wineglass precariously. She smooshes her cookie dough into the counter to stay upright. It takes her time to catch her breath, and she has to wipe at her eyes. This time when she sniffles, it's from the tears of laughter.
"Ohhh. That was a good one," she says appreciatively with another wicked chuckle as she pulls over the cookie tray. "If I didn't think that Harvey would take it so seriously I would. He's worse than Lathrik about it though. It's a paladin thing, I think."
"Ugh, you're probably right," Aze says, still chuckling, as she straightens and unbuttons her purple jacket. Her cheeks are a little flushed, as the wine and laughter and baking add up to warm. Blue tattoos peek out just at the edge of her blouse's neckline, and she rests a hand at the lapel, maybe considering where to put a jacket. "Yara's like that too, so serious. She always was, even before she was a paladin. Ralaea's going to catch the Light bug too someday, I bet."
Aze pauses, considering the person next to her who has also definitely caught some kind of 'Light bug', and adds, "Priestesses are different, though. In my experience."
Aze can't see the look Natalyah gives her, but she can hear the aristocratic sniff. "I am not a priestess, and I'm never going to be. The Church is not the only way to approach the Light, and I'm not the only one who thinks this way. The Light isn't the Church, anyway. But, paladins are something else. Harvey can't use the Light anymore, but he is still a paladin. Your sister probably is, too. It's like an entire brain setting. Sinners and martyrs." She fusses with the cookie baking sheet for a moment longer, before she seems to really clock the way Aze is holding onto her jacket, and then waves a hand vaguely around the corner from the kitchen.
"Oh, your — go on, take it off. There's a table, over there, where Lathrik puts his armor. You can throw it on there," she says. There was also a proper coat rack and everything, but it's been inundated by other things that haven't been put away, and now there's no room. Several other random I'll deal with this later items are scattered on the entryway table as well.
"Thanks," Aze says, and she shrugs off the jacket, stepping around the corner to toss it carelessly on the indicated table. It lies there, one arm hanging off haphazardly, and Aze returns to the kitchen, pushing her sleeves up past her elbows, which shows the jagged blue lines that stretch down her forearms. "Anyway, yeah, I know other people who don't think the Church is the only way to approach the Light, too. I just meant like, the priestess mindset, it seems like it varies a lot more than the paladin one. My best friend growing up was a priestess, and she was nothing like… sinners and martyrs. Maybe sinners. And the others, up in the Highlands, Herald and Fey. Very different than the paladin vibe."
Natalyah cocks her head, a lupine gesture. "Oh, Estel and Almeiria. They're still sort of priestesses, I suppose. Estel more than Almeiria, but even she's more by circumstance than anything. Almeiria and I have more in common for viewing the Church as more a place to learn a technique and then look at what they aren't willing to consider, although not the same degree," she says as she loads up the cookies onto the baking sheet. "Sinners and martyrs though — it's a thing from Gilneas I picked up. The woman of the family I stayed with, it was what she said all the time. She has a whole phrase of it from her grandmother about how there were two types of people in the world." Natalyah adopts a truly passable Gilnean accent, "'Sinners an' martyrs — those to blame for the wearies of the world, and those who hope to have 'em.'"
"Two kinds of people, huh," Aze says, returning to finish off cutting the last cookie from the not-quite-flat hand-smushed dough remains. "Not sure I believe that — I'd guess most people aren't either one." She slides over the last lumpy cookie. "What do you do, then, that the Church won't consider?"
"Mostly, I keep my mind open to what can be done with the Light as a tool, and start from the premise that the Light shouldn't be a religion at all," Natalyah says baldly. "The whole morality of it is backwards, and prevents forward thinking. As soon as you start assigning morality, you start enforcing traditions for no reason. It also makes you have to start twisting things like calling things 'shadow' instead of the 'void' and making up reasons why it's connected to the Light instead of calling it what it is — it's Void Magic. You also stop exploring innovation because it becomes about worship of a being or entity, instead of just a tool like the arcane, because everything ends up having to come back to how it is a religious idea somehow of divinity.
"At the moment, I'm working with Isla on some of my hypotheses on the ratios of Intent, Focus, and Belief. She's a lot younger, and with a lot of emotional ties, and so it's been an interesting study to see how the Light works with her. She doesn't have focus, but she does have what I've been calling Conviction in my notes," the Scientist of the Light says as she pats the last of the cane cookies onto the first sheet, and takes out the second for Aze's cookies.
"Intent, Focus, and Belief," Aze repeats, resting one hand on the counter. "I think you've mentioned that before. I'd agree there's no need to bring morality into it. It's just power, and you can use it for good as much as evil. My friend, growing up, she didn't really ever worship the Light. I don't remember her ever talking about it like it was a being. She had Belief…. that it would be there for her, when she called it, I guess. And Intent, she knew how to apply it. Maybe not so much in the way of Focus, either. There's another piece of data for your theory, then."
Aze doesn't move to help Natalyah with putting the cookies on the sheets — she wasn't asked to do that part, at least not yet. Instead, she adds, "I like Isla. She's a good Light collaborator?"
"Oh, she's such a dear, I adore her," Natalyah gushes, as she puts the cookies on herself. "She has this whole thing about 'rewriting a story' for healing. Like she tells the story again to reverse what happened to heal someone, almost like she's resetting time, and it's been working, which has been absolutely fascinating. It's something that does also support that sort of examination of time magic related to the Light. There's a lot of it in there, with speeding people up, and how the healing works itself. The idea of channeling the intention through storytelling instead of belief in the religious Light is unique, and I'm encouraging it, because it is working," Natalyah says, with both pride and a defensive note, as if Aze might somehow start up an argument about how this is a terrible idea.
"Rewriting a story, huh," Aze says, standing by as the cookies are prepped for the oven, and taking advantage of the free time for more wine. "Lot of stories I wish I could rewrite. But I guess it's like the healing, that you have to get to something right after? It'd be interesting to see like how quick you have to do it. Time it out, story by story."
"At the moment, that's part of the problem. She gets too caught up in changing the story after she starts it, so it stutters out the heal, and there's an element in the Light about Connection that matters," Natalyah says, and the immediately adds, in Isla's defense, "But she's still learning. She came at it naturally, and she wants to learn, which is important. She's had some sort of Light connection for who knows how long, and she didn't go to the Church for a reason."
Cookies stuffed in the oven somewhat unceremoniously, Natalyah clicks a timer by the stove, swipes up her wine, and levitates herself once more. "Plus, I don't think the Fallons are Church of the Light people. All the Tidemother Tide Things."
Aze turns to Natalyah, sipping her wine and interested to see what's next while the cookies bake. "No, not really. Siamus is very serious about the Tides, but he doesn't have much interest in the Light. Might be a little awkward at family dinners, if she went for the Light Church. I've never been into religions myself, either. It wasn't really a thing people talked about when I was growing up. These days… I guess I should do a little curtsy to the Light and the Tidemother sometimes, for Aspenwood and Fallon."
Because sometimes respect for a religion really just comes down to personal loyalties.
"Oh, the Aspenwoods weren't ever known for being especially Church-y. At least not ten years ago, anyway. But the Fallons kept that whole Tides thing very hush hush socially, even back then. I had no idea about it, and that's the sort of thing I'd have noticed," Natalyah says with the authority of someone who knows her noble houses wheelhouse gossip. "But for the Aspenwoods, with the Light, that's new, and possibly just the paladin and the priest, the younger ones from the twins. Birdie's still the same at least. You know, mostly normal about it like regular people.
"Still, if they thought you had to convert or curtsy or something, they should have been upfront about it. They can't expect you to believe in something you don't because they do, just because they're supporting you. That's not support. That's weird religion extortion." Natalyah punctuates this with a gulp of wine, which will also surely keep her level headed in religious nuance conversations. "Siamus isn't like that, I don't think. He better not be. I like him."
"Oh, yeah, no, they never tried to force me to believe in anything," Aze says with a laugh, supplementing her side of the conversation with more wine. "Siamus is a friend. So are Mordecai, Colson, Cressidha, the others… and friends don't expect favors for favors. Friends are just… people you want to give to. So I want to give, what I have to give, and they don't need me to kill any fel-damned demons right now."
Aze thinks through the rest of what Natalyah said, and adds, "I think I got an unusual first impression of the Aspenwoods, because it was Mordecai and Colson I knew first in Outland. And you're safe to talk about Tides with, yeah? I thought, because Ren, because you're friends with Siamus. I don't, not with just anyone."
Natalyah bristles with an annoyed scoff. "Of course I — what do you even mean safe? I'm completely safe to talk to about Tides and everything. They don't talk about it for all sorts of weird reasons that I have nothing to do with. It's not like I'm going to go around shouting heathen or something. Not to either the Tides people or the Light people. They're my friends, and I reject their weird religious parts of things equally as a Scientist, and I care about them all anyway. And anyone who messes with them messes with me, including me. I don't even know why it's all such a secret, anyway. Kul Tirans being so cagey about it all, but fiiiiine, it's under wraps, so I'm wrapped."
But we know what Natalyah's general opinion on secrets are. She thinks of something else though, because she points a finger at Aze. "Do you know what's weird — I haven't heard a single mention of a demon in Pandaria. Not one. Not even like a little imp."
"Right, yeah, I don't really get the whole secrecy thing either, just I wasn't even thinking about it being one, not today, and then you said that about being hush hush. Sometimes when a thing is hush but not like absolute secret I don't think about it until the words are already out of my mouth," Aze says, gesturing with her wineglass. "And yeah, I noticed that. I'd be all over it if there were. Do you think the Legion doesn't know about Pandaria?"
"Because of the whole mist thing, maybe? But the mists are gone now, so… what if that's going to be new," Natalyah muses, swirling her wine. "Or what if they can't tell if there's interest starting because of the sha? Or what if some of the sha is signaling the Burning Legion now somehow? That's a whole thought, isn't it? I mean, you can always tell about demonic energy, right? There's a 100% certainty." She gestures to her own eyes, likely meaning Aze's eyes.
"Demons are obvious," Aze says with a nod, raising a hand to touch the side of her blindfold. "If they're close enough, I'll see them. Invisible, shapechanged, it doesn't matter. Fel energy, too, yeah, I know how to recognize that. There's a lot of like… different kinds of energy in the universe, and I don't really know what a lot of it means. Maybe if I'd been better at the arcane to start with, I would. Demons, though, 100% certainty." She considers the rest of the questions, and answers, "The sha don't sound demonic. But I've never seen them."
"They definitely don't sound demonic," Natalyah agrees. "Lathrik says they're 'from a legend over ten thousand years old,' and can 'influence negative emotions until they consume a person entirely,' and that the entire land is cursed with them. Those are direct source citation quotes, by the way." Scientist! "But I wonder what you would see if you looked at them, or where they've erupted, or what it would mean. It's so annoying how difficult it is to get into the stupid place. I'm currently on a list because I'm a 'risk for the sha of anger,' apparently, because I turned into a worgen when they wouldn't let me through because I thought Lathrik was possibly dead. They didn't even actually tell me that. I overheard them because they didn't realize I could hear them, even though they had obviously just seen me turn into a worgen. They told me that it wasn't 'a good time, and to be patient.'"
She pouts and downs the rest of the wine, not exactly making a fantastic case for being a not-angry and good patient person.
"That's some horseshit," Aze says, and drains the rest of her own glass in solidarity. "Who wouldn't be angry if they wanted to do something completely reasonable, and then people got in their way for no reason? I've been down to the embassy area before, but I never tried to cross over. I won't mention any of the demon stuff, if I do. I can just not explain anything, and they probably won't ask any questions. People usually don't, unless they already know me a little." Aze reaches towards the rapidly-emptying wine bottle, and then maybe remembers she's a guest and to not do that. "Patience doesn't mean never though. We can wear them down. And I can't promise I can tell you anything useful about how the sha look, but I can at least tell you what I see."
Natalyah waves her at the wine bottle. "Get it. I'm not a portal keeping wine bottle Pandaren," Natalyah says. It makes sense, probably. "I don't know though if maybe the whole demon hunter thing wouldn't be a good thing to explain as a reason to give for why they should let you in. It's a unique skill set. And I went in all as myself, but if we applied it as Apex instead, it'd be paperworky enough or whatever." That's the trick. Paperworky!
"And then I could bring things to Lathrik, and hug him properly, and he wouldn't sound so sad in his letters anymore. Not that he ever says he's sad. In fact, he's always so careful to never really say anything like it. And then sometimes I get mad and jealous at him for no good reason and make it all worse anyway when he's being attacked by despair sha because I'm a horrible mm — horrible goose person." Oh no, the sniffle again, and this time, there's that rolling gold energy, the worgen side that often precipitates a change, usually brought on by strong emotion. She doesn't yet change, but she's not far off.
Aze grabs the bottle, she requires no further invitation, pours her own glass fairly full and then gestures the invitation to Natalyah — either to take the bottle or extend her glass. If there's one way she knows to address strong emotion, it's alcohol.
"I don't usually like making that a thing, because reactions range from 'what a unique skillset' to 'lock her in solitary forever' to 'kill her immediately'," Aze says, with a kind of nervous laugh. She takes another gulp of wine. "Pretty sure no one would do that here, because they'd have to answer to my sponsor if they did, but Stormwind doesn't own Pandaria. And they do uh… have a history of locking uncomfortable things away, if I got my sha lore right. But yeah, paperworky Apex, and then we'd be official, like ambassadors. And you can hug Lathrik… and not be sad. Or jealous." Her voice goes a bit vague on the last bit. "I don't have a lot of experience with that sort of thing, but it sounds intense."
Natalyah extends her glass. "I wouldn't let anyone lock you away just for being an uncomfortable different thing. I'd bite out the throats of anyone who even tried," she growls, and it's not a metaphorical sound this time; it's a literal one. In between one word and the other, she's a worgen, as fast as a blink. "So, they'll just have to accept a demon-hunter ambassador. Officially. Or else we're not going. They can't treat you like that."
Aze doesn't seem bothered at all by the sudden increased size and growliness of her drinking friend. On the contrary, her smile gets a little wavery, like maybe she might cry. She won't, because she can't. Instead, she pours the rest of the bottle of Brightsong into Natalyah's cup and sets the empty bottle aside.
"It's nice to have a friend who'll bite people's fucking throats out for you," Aze says, which is kind of a warm sentiment, if you think about it. "I would too. I can have sharp teeth, I just won't — it's not the same thing, when I change shape. I wouldn't do that here."
Natalyah also gets wibbly, which might be some of the wine and might be some of the holiday maudlin mood. And then, her head tilts again in lupine confusion. "When you do what?"
"When I…" Aze pauses, bringing the wine glass in a little closer, like she's protecting it from a possible sudden wind. "So, uh… I guess I never mentioned that before? It's not like it matters, I've only ever done it a few times. If it does happen in Pandaria, though, when they totally let us through to go see Lathrik, just know it's still me."
The timer chooses this moment to sing out a chirpy, upbeat series of notes — a Lucy timer.
Natalyah announces, "Cookies!" She sets down her wineglass to pick up a potholder, shifting to human in another blink so it fits her hand, and opening the oven, sending out a wave of heat and fresh scent of baked cookies into that tense atmosphere.
The two trays are set on top of tiered cooking racks above the stove, and Natalyah shuts the door to the oven, tossing the pot holder to the side. "That was extremely vague and doesn't really tell me what you mean by changing shape, but obviously it's something to do with the demon that you talk about sometimes. You can tell me about it, Aze. It's not going to change anything, you must know that, right? I'm a worgen. What are you going to tell me to top that? That you transform into another creature sometimes and there's a danger that you get overwhelmed by an internal beast, go feral and lose your mind to it, and not for the first time?"
"Pretty close," Aze says with a wry smile, and takes a fortifying sip of wine. "Only, if I got overwhelmed by the demon, it would be for the first time, and the last time, but that won't happen, because I've got everything under control." Aze sighs. "I'm not trying to be super dramatic about it all, it's just a dangerous technique for me, not something I can sustain for like, more than a minute."
"Oh." Natalyah considers this with the same sort of silence Aze has heard from her from time to time when they've run into an interesting or strange information that has briefly taken the lepidopterist aback — a very rare occurrence. It never lasts long. Natalyah's response is as abrupt and decisive as usual in the face of such things — she gives no warning as she throws her arms around Aze in a spontaneous, uninhibited embrace. It's a clear a message as anything, but Natalyah is not interested in subtlety regardless.
"I believe in you," Natalyah says firmly. "You have it under control, and it will be okay. I won't freak out if I see it happen. And if it goes weird in Pandaria, we'll figure it out. Deal?"
Aze is startled by the embrace for the first moment, but then she returns it wholeheartedly, holding her wine glass somewhere behind Natalyah's shoulder.
"Deal," Aze says, with a warmth in her smile that's only partially enhanced by tipsiness. "I know you've seen me fight, but I'm usually… pretty careful about everything. I wouldn't change, unless my life was in serious danger. That or, you know, somebody goaded me into it. But really, I could totally kill somebody for you without transforming, so the throat-biting thing was closer to a joke."
Natalyah laughs, and releases Aze. "And I know you can also not kill someone from biting, because that one gnome is walking around just fine, so you've got all sorts of levels of control and skills," she quips.
"Oh, that was with these teeth, so a little less dangerous," Aze says, snapping her flat, elvish jaw and then laughing, as she pulls back from the hug. Aze's grin is a little mischievous as she adds, "Still… there are different skills, depending on the context."
Natalyah groans dramatically, floating ominously back towards the counter, drifting towards the bottles of both wine and Cuergo Gold. "I haven't had that context or any skills for months. Yet another reason to go through the portal for Lathrik. I keep thinking of something he said about how before me, he would flirt with women because there was a need not being met, and then he had me, so that was all handled, and now I'm not there, which means it isn't being met, because he's not allowed to meet it, but he probably wants to," she says morosely. "And I have needs, too! I need Lathrik! And he's not skilled enough to reach that far. And Lucy left some very interesting things, but they're not Lathrik." She pulls over the Cuergo and the wine bottle.
Aze smiles… wine and Cuergo's, why not have both? As Natalyah handles the bottles, she starts to wander over in the general direction of cookies.
"See this is part of the whole exclusive love thing I don't really get," Aze says with a nod. "It's nice to have people you care about, that you can go to and be pretty sure they're in for fu—n and games. But then if you're parted, it's less fun on both sides." Aze considers that with another sip of wine. "And I'm not indiscriminate. People say that sometimes, but I'm not. There's not as many people these days as I usually pretend, but —wait, please don't say that and not explain. What interesting things?"
Natalyah opens Cuergo first, because he's been patient, and then starts on tackling the other wine bottle, because Aze is right about exclusivity — at least about alcohol, right? "So, the fully finished Interesting Thing is called 'Gnomish Vibrator v.2.0, and her notes suggest she made it all the way up to a version 3.1, but that's… gone, so I assume she had that with her when she — " Natalyah breaks off that thought as she swipes up the new bottle of wine and pours them new glasses. "Anyway, it's a whole concept for stimulating and vibrating like the world's most robotic but very focused and well-timed lover. It can't really replace touching or responsiveness or anything interesting, but you have to appreciate its stamina and commitment to a pace," the scientist says matter-of-factly. "She had a lot of notes for other ideas but they never…"
"Huh, I wouldn't have thought of going gnomish tech for that sort of thing," Aze says, thoughtfully, sidestepping the grief for the moment. "I mean, absolutely not for goblin machinery, can you imagine? I'd like to keep my p— parts intact, thank you very much. It sounds interesting to try out, but yeah, not a replacement for a person, for the connection. And it is still a connection, for me, even when it only lasts a night. But still, super innovative of her." Aze raises her glass in salute to the intelligent and creative Lucy.
Natalyah raises her glass to Lucy with a high pitched whine that doesn't quite belong in a human throat, and she drinks down her wine to smother it. That's how these things work, right? "It wouldn't matter anyway, what you were talking about with taking on some other lover. I don't want another person or connection. I want Lathrik. That's what I'm missing. So, unless he has an evil twin wandering around — And even then, I don't think I'd want Evil Twin Lathrik. He wouldn't be the right Lathrik. I like how good Lathrik is." Natalyah's voice has gone both morose and hoarser, and the roil of gold precipitates another imminent change on the horizon.
"It's just that the longer he's away, the more I'm afraid he's going to realize that I'm not that good. Or that he's going to forget about me somehow. Which sounds stupid when I say it out loud, as if I'm not writing to him, but it's — it's happened before. I went away. And I came back, and it was like. It felt like everyone had realized how easy it was to not have me here. My own parents had edited me out of my own House. Everyone had moved on, swept over everything. Except for Lucy, and she — ." The worgen shift is abrupt, but not unexpected, perhaps. "I keep thinking, what if Lathrik hits a point where he realizes he's better off without me. That's it's easier, and he gets used to it, and when he comes back, he'll wish he could get that space back."
Aze takes a gulp of her own wine in honor of the departed Lucy, and then cradles it in her hands.
"I'm probably supposed to say that'd never happen," Aze says, turning her face down at her own glass. "But you know him a lot better than I do, and you and I both know that things do change. I was gone for almost a decade, and I —" Aze trails off, running one finger along her wine glass. "It was a confusing time. I knew I left a wreck behind me, but when I finally came back, they'd reconstructed almost the whole fucking city so it was sort of like it was, but also not. And my family was dead. And my best friend — less heroically than Lucy. Nothing made any sense anymore. There wasn't a life to go back to, not really. So when I say I know things change, I'm serious."
"I don't know about you and Lathrik," Aze shrugs one shoulder, and lifts the glass to take another sip. "Most of my… well, there are people who'd probably welcome me to bed in Pandaria, if I went. Or maybe they wouldn't, and I'd roll with that, too. Maybe it's harder for me, and easier at the same time. I don't have any certainty, I never have. But if he offered you certainty, then he probably meant it."
Natalyah the worgen hovers unhappily in the air with her wineglass, and pokes miserably at a cookie. "That's so awful. The whole recognizing things and not. I had it only a little and I hated it. Yours was probably even worse because you're older and it sounds like one of those Monkey Paw creepy necromancy stories, you know? The 'they came back wrong,' stories, where they bring someone back to life, but they don't come back exactly the same, only it's a whole city, and everything," Natalyah says with all the feeling of rain battering against the windows. She might not realize quite how on the nose it is.
"The worst thing with Lathrik is that he's offered certainty. Promised it. I even trust it. I believe him, more than I believe probably anyone in the whole world. That's what so stupid about it. It's like I don't understand why I can't just stop thinking it. I hate it. I just want to throw something at it, or scream really loudly until I stop feeling this way." Natalyah picks up a hot cookie instead. It bends with a sad little curve, not having fully finished setting.
Aze draws in a breath while Natalyah talks, almost like someone struck her, but she follows with just… more wine. More wine.
"Alcohol helps," Aze says agreeably, reaching for a little candy cane cookie. "And violence, for me. Probably the cookies, too, and sex. Anything that's doing something, putting something else in your mind, so you can just like… not poke at it, you know? It'll probably heal, or not, and either way the poking doesn't help."
Aze takes a little bite of cookie, savoring it. It's probably good there aren't death knights here now, for the little sting of heat that comes with the sweetness. She doesn't even register this cost of impatience.
"But here we are poking," Aze says, turning back to Natalyah. "And the paladins would probably say that's a good thing. Like the Argent Crusade, they kept me busy enough throughout the war, but then it was all like — now it's time for healing." She pauses for more wine. "That's when I went back to Shattrath. But I think your thing'll be fixed once you've got Lathrik there again, right? So we just have to wear the pandaren down. And endure somehow, in the meantime."
Natalyah bites into her cookie with an ashafashafaha, refusing to wait until it's cooled down enough to eat properly, as Aze speaks. She washes it down with more wine, because that's the best way to deal with poking.
"Will it be hard for you, when we go to Pandaria?" It is a when now, as they both agree. That happened. "Do you get that whole feeling at all? Like, if we leave here, that when you come back everything will get all yanked out from under you again?" That might be also some of the wine talking because she adds, "Shit. I shouldn't — what am I saying? I didn't mean that. It won't do that. Sinners and martyrs, I'm being awful."
"No, that's fair," Aze says a little hazily, because what exactly does she mean is fair? "Everything could get yanked out from under us both, whether we travel anywhere or not. That's just a thing that happens sometimes. People turn on you, or armies come through, or death knights…"
Aze pauses for more wine. That's a good place to have more wine.
"The first time is the hardest, I think," Aze says, focusing on Natalyah. "The first time everything falls apart. We survived that, though, you and me, so we can handle anything else, right?"
"Plus, it would be so banal to repeat it, wouldn't it? Like, get a new thing, world. Been there, survived that, got the apocalyptic sharp teeth souvenirs," Natalyah says archly, triple-dog-daring the universe.
Aze laughs, and for just a moment it might seem like the colors shifted slightly the marks on her forearms. Maybe it was just the light.
"I just try not to hold onto things too tightly," Aze says, and then reconsiders that phrasing. "Or maybe that's not right. I hold onto things pretty fucking tightly, but when they shake me off, I let 'em go. Anyway, Pandaria is just a portal away, it'll be fine."
"It will be fine," Natalyah repeats with the will of a tempest, daring the world to defy her. It absolutely sounds like a threat. She picks up another cookie, inspecting it. "You know what, I bet we could make that fruitcake. We're not even drunk, but we could figure it out even if we were. It can't be that hard. We've done way more difficult things. Come on, Cuergo." She picks up the tequila, and sets it between them on the counter. "This will absolutely work out this time."
That's the spirit. Well, spirits.