![](http://cobalt-company.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/writing:2026-05-28-aftermath-of-the-golden-vale-victory-vale/style="margin:/medium.jpg) |
| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | The Battle for the Golden Vale has ended successfully by any regular measure of a military battle, but that doesn't mean everyone is affected by it the same way, and some are still learning how to swim through the brutal currents. 6k~ words. World Plot. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
The Golden Lotus begins celebration immediately, but a healer's work isn't done once the battle ends. Mordecai just keeps going, moving between the dead, praying over each one he finds. The soulstone times out.
Melancholy can cast even with her hands trembling, and she does, as a new soulstone goes on before Mordecai can take a deep breath — there's that sharp scent of the fel, the sensation of something closing over a part of his soul protectively. She's quiet. No poetry now, only staring at Mordecai like if she doesn't keep him in her line of sight, a mogu will spring out of nowhere and stab the healer to death.
Baird stays with Melancholy, keeping her firmly against his side in the enclosure of his arm. He doesn't say anything. He watches Mordecai work.
In between soulstone casts, Melancholy holds onto Bryn's hand.
The Light flickers and fades in Mordecai's hands. Another failed resurrection. He rises to a stand and turns towards Melancholy to say, "Thank you," at a regular volume. Actually looking at her, his expression creases in concern, and he heads towards the two of them. "Have you sat down?" he asks Melancholy.
Melancholy straightens from a slight slump, shaking her head like she's been caught by a priest doodling in the cathedral. "Oh, no, I'm sorry," Melancholy apologizes… for… something. She scratches lightly with her nails against Bryn's hand. "I can stay as long as you do. I don't want you to be out here without a soul stone back up, just in case of more ambushes. Lena didn't send me back, so I'm all right to remain."
Baird looks from her to Mordecai and back again. "We could sit," he suggests gently. "There at the edge? We can see the Bishop from there."
"Excuse me," Mordecai calls, flagging down a pandaren woman who is carrying a crate of fireworks down the road towards the Golden Pavilion with a big smile on her face and blood on her robes.
"Hmmm?" The woman turns to him, clocks the three humans, and her smile somehow grows even warmer. "Oh! It's you!" She rushes towards Baird and Melancholy. "You saved my life. The Shao-Tien took me prisoner, do you remember?"
Melancholy flinches at the mention of being held prisoner, but she pushes off her expression and pulls up a plum lipped smile from somewhere, trembling harder in Baird's grip. "Oh! I'm sorry, I don't know your name, but I am glad you seem to be doing well," she says politely.
Baird flashes the woman a smile. His arm tightens around Melancholy though he doesn't look at her.
"Rulin Jadepaw." There is a bright green streak in her hair, and she wears jade jewelry. Her robe has a stylized rendition of Yu'lon that begins with the head at her shoulder and the tail wraps around her body multiple times. The outfit is striking; she was probably not wearing it when she was rescued. "Thank you. I just wanted to say thank you."
Mordecai smiles softly. "Um, Miss Jadepaw, I saw you casting earlier," he explains. "Can — can you conjure water?"
"Easily done." Rulin sets her crate of fireworks down. She claps her paws together and pulls them apart to reveal a green glass jar with liquid inside. She offers it to Mordecai, who gestures at Melancholy instead. Rulin turns and offers it out to Melancholy.
Melancholy takes it automatically in the way someone who has been trained not to be rude would, although she doesn't look like she would like this green jar of liquid. "Thank you," she says, as polite as before. "I am Melancholy Grimlocke, Lena's apprentice. It's good to meet you, Miss Jadepaw." She can't offer a hand because one hand holds her athame, and the other the liquid, so she bobs a shaky curtsey in Baird's hold, and plasters herself against his side when she rises.
"Thank you, Miss Jadepaw," says Baird. "I'm glad to see you again. Glad it's all worked out here."
"I'm Mordecai," Mordecai says quietly.
"Thank you," Rulin says. "Rulin, please." She squints at Melancholy. "Humans aren't usually your color. Do you need something to eat?"
Melancholy's smile wobbles but she holds it there through sheer force of will. "I'm from Duskwood, a place cursed into darkness by a master mage's violent death more than 25 years ago, and I have a delicate complexion, so I am naturally pale," she explains, a genuine offer of information that this pandaren might not have to put her into context. She is, also, unnaturally pale, at the moment. "I have snacks with me, thank you."
"Oh, that's terrible, I'm so sorry about your home." Rulin picks up the crate again. She has white fur with black fur down her arms and a mask-like marking on her face; they are nearly the same color. "I'll be at the pavilion if you need anything." With another smile, she continues back down the road.
Mordecai watches her go, blinks, and turns his attention back to Melancholy and Baird. "Um, can we take a snack break, please?"
Melancholy looks like Baird may be actually doing more than 40% of holding her upright, having expended some of the last dregs of her energy on being a sociable human being. "Oh, yes, please. I think I am going to end up sitting very soon, whether I like it or not," she says honestly, and turns a pleading look on Bryn. Escort her to the sitting, please.
"Over here," Baird says to both of them, and escorts them around one of the pagoda's pillars to a sheltered spot on the steps. He unwraps his arm from Melancholy gently but also immediately takes her hand to help guide her down to sitting.
Bryn has learned the lady way. She does not delicately sit. She plops, half a collapse.
Mordecai settles down on Melancholy's other side with relief. He digs out a bottle of water that sure looks a lot like it was conjured by Cressidha Aspenwood and takes a long drink from it.
Melancholy puts away her athame and continues to hold onto the liquid in the green glass jar, and then sets it down on the step, reaching into her pocket for a black (of course) bag. She sniffles, and begins to pull out smaller bag after bag of snacks. Taro chips, sesame crackers, fried yak cheese curds (don't knock 'em until you try 'em; Eames will tell you that they're tasty), dried black cherries, fresh grapes (Emotionless Void chilled!), cold blackberries (not fresh, from frozen, but still good), and with an oh!! a bag of oatmeal raisin cookies with dried black cherries and chocolate chunks. This one she offers up directly to Baird.
"Bryling sent more cookies," she tells him in a wobbling voice, on the verge of a fresh wave of tears. "I didn't eat them all myself this time."
"Oh," says Baird. He takes the bag carefully and opens it to examine the contents. Then he offers it politely to Mordecai first. "Cookie, Bishop Aspenwood? My little sister is a pretty good baker." He glances at Melancholy.
Mordecai looks deeply relieved that someone has offered him food without him having to ask. "Yes, please," he says, and takes a cookie from the bag. "I, um, I also bake sometimes."
Baird nods. "You mentioned. The first time I talked to you and your husband. You might have been a baker."
"I don't know how to bake," Melancholy intones automatically. She pulls up her crackers, and reaches in to start cronching her way through them, like a squirrel who just found a cache in winter.
Mordecai nods, his ears going a little red. He begins to nibble on the cookie like he may never get any more cookies ever again and will have to make this one last. "Are you fully healed?" he asks Melancholy. "Is there any lingering physical pain?"
"Yes. No." Melancholy realizes a moment after she speaks how that sounds. She clears her throat. "I'm sorry, that was unclear. I meant those in order. Yes, I'm fully healed; no, there is no lingering physical pain." Another pause. "Oh, I never said — I'm sorry, that was so rude of me. I never thanked you, or Caspis. Thank you, for saving my life, and healing me."
"Thank you, Bishop," Baird says, quietly and earnestly. He is still holding the bag of cookies open for Mordecai. U may have all the cookies u wish, good sir.
"Of-of course," Mordecai says. "Um, you can - you can also call me Mordecai. If you want. You're welcome. You didn't do anything rude, you were in shock afterwards. That's not unusual after a near-death experience." He is still working on his first cookie.
"I know," Melancholy says quietly, scratching at the bag of sesame crackers. "I suppose though that this is my first near death experience. Last time, I died all the way." She gives Mordecai a small, forced smile. "I died in the Shattering. A warlock's soulstone, applied after death, brought me back. I don't know that I ever really properly thanked her for it. I don't remember very well what I said." The tears spill over, cutting new paths through the dried makeup, and she ducks her head for a moment, before lifting it again to not obscure her lips from Bryn's line of sight. She whispers I'm sorry, and starts digging around in her pocket for her handkerchief.
Baird sets the bag of cookies on the steps. "Melancholy," he says softly, "Hey. Melancholy." He wraps his arm around her again.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Mordecai says softly.
Melancholy goes right into his shoulder, clutching her bag of crackers in one hand, and his shirt in the other, her search for a handkerchief abandoned before she can complete it for quest credit. There's one small, stifled sob, and then the rest come out in a dam bursting, a loud wailing she repeatedly seems to try to stop, and fails each time.
Baird puts his other arm around her too, his cheek against her dark hair, and gazes at Mordecai a little helplessly.
Mordecai takes a big bite of cookie to hold it in his mouth, wipes crumbs off his hands, and goes digging for a handkerchief to have it at the ready for when Melancholy needs it.
Melancholy probably needs it already, but at the moment, Bryn's armor is a temporary handkerchief, in a non-absorbent way. She takes a shaky breath, sobs once more, and then another breath where she seems to finally stop the terrible tide. She sniffles, and puts a hand up on her cheek. "I'm sorry," she apologizes, shrinking into herself, and then wiping her lace gloved hand on Bryn's armor, which mostly means smearing various things around.
"You've done nothing wrong," Mordecai says gently but clearly enough for Baird to hear as well.
Baird shakes his head at Melancholy, and then nods agreement with Mordecai. "Don't be sorry," he tells her. "Remarkable Melancholy."
"I know everyone else is better at coping with all this. I don't know how to be like that. I'm s — " Melancholy sniffles again, and halts the apology. And then, even though Mordecai is right there and he can see everything (which from this angle is mostly the back of her head, which is curly hair and a tiny hat, so scandalous), she sneaks a very brief, chaste kiss to Bryn's cheek, because it's been a very difficult afternoon. She doesn't seem like she's planning on leaving his hold though any time soon, and instead she raises up her snack bag in offer to him. To eat or to ask to feed to her? Unclear from the gesture.
Baird pries the snack bag gently from her hands. He neither eats nor feeds her (yet). "Melancholy," he says. "No one begins better. Some of us have… longer practice. At swimming. That's not necessarily good. You can't judge how you react to things like this against the way Mrs. Shine or someone would. That's not fair to you."
Mordecai leans around to offer out the handkerchief. "I still startle very easily, myself."
Melancholy takes the handkerchief as automatically as the drink, although this she actually looks like she needs. "Oh, thank you," she says, and begins to dab at her face, still hunched against Bryn. She probably should be scrubbing, for the makeup, but she can't see what she looks like. "I startle easily, too. It still gets me when people pop in and out of invisibility, or when there's suddenly a dozen mogu from nowhere. And I'm not a very good swimmer, yet — in or out of the water. But, I am trying."
"A lot of them really just take things in stride, don't they? But they've been in… a lot of combat. He's right, it's not a fair comparison to make." Mordecai shakes his head. "There are some things you get more used to and some things you don't."
"Also," says Baird quietly, "you had better believe if the Bishop hadn't been there and you'd…. I'd be a fucking mess right now. Excuse my language." He wipes a thumb across one of her smeary cheeks, which kind of just serves to make it smearier.
"Today is my 18th time in combat," Melancholy says. That's right. That's the number. The whole entire number. Her lips tremble, and her eyes fill with fresh tears as she looks at Bryn. "I'm really sorry, Bryn. I should have jumped, or — I was so focused on the wrong cast. I should have used the Dark Bargain and Unending Resolve, and then jumped. But, it was so much pain that I. Didn't. In the moment, I couldn't think of them, despite all the practice." In the past three whole entire months she's been a practicing warlock.
Baird flinches when she says it was so much pain, and loses a shade of color himself. His arm tightens around her. "That was for sure not my point," he tells her, his voice rough. "We talked about that already, right? It's a battle. Anything can happen. Does happen. Everyone slips. My point is not that you did a damned thing wrong, because you didn't. It's that you shouldn't go thinking we can all brush everything off equally."
Mordecai has run out of cookie to nibble on. He drinks some more water and then sets his hands in his lap, fidgeting with his fingers.
"I don't want to be another person you lose," Melancholy says, and moves her hand around to hold him back. "Especially not when there was something I could have done. I think I'll talk to Lena about training for it more, though. There are ways a warlock can heal. I don't know when or exactly how to use them, and I haven't practiced with them for an emergency like that. But, I am all right, now. I'm not in any pain. So, please don't be sad."
Mordecai says quietly, "Enough pain," and then raises his voice to a normal volume and starts over: "Enough pain can push everything out of your head. It's not easy to get used to. I never did."
Baird strokes Melancholy's back. He nods at Mordecai.
"I'm just glad it wasn't a mistake that cost anyone else anything. I am all right," Melancholy repeats, pulling up a smile for Bryn, that she seems to hope will be reassuring. "'There is a dreamy / wading feeling to your walk / inside the current / of restored riches, / clocks set back, / disasters averted.' I don't remember the rest of it. I should write it down." And then she breathes in sharply, tenses, and sets a new soul stone on Mordecai before the other one can time out, slumping with relief back against Bryn once she does. Whew.
"Thank you," Mordecai says to Melancholy, but he's sitting up straight where Baird can see his face rather than slouching. "I really appreciate you casting that on me. It makes a lot of difference, both with my anxiety and… with what I can tell my husband, who is in the domain of the Sha of Fear right now and worries about me while we're separated."
"Oh, you're welcome. I'm glad. It's a bit selfish of me, really, because it helps me to know that there's a healer with the power to resurrect people, more than one person, and that if anything were to happen to us all, suddenly, there would be a chance at a second chance," Melancholy tells him, although she's facing Bryn. "The soulstone is part of why I chose to become a warlock. It's a unique power of resurrection that doesn't require the caster to be alive to have it used, so long as it is applied before death. It's important to me that I not ever let that second chance go to waste where I might have been the difference."
Mordecai smiles softly. "I really wouldn't consider that to be selfish at all." He takes a deep breath. "I should keep going. The time after a battle is the most critical, because some souls can still be resurrected. If the two of you would fly with me to Mistfall Village, I should be safe in the infirmary there - and that's where they'll be bringing the bodies once they get organized. And then you can go rest?"
"Yeah," says Baird. "We'd be happy to. Anything you need." He picks up the bag of Bryling's cookies and Melancholy's snack pack and offers both back to her.
Melancholy takes both automatically, blinking at them for a second — what do? — before it clicks, and she sets one aside, and then one-handedly folds Mordecai's handkerchief, turns out of Bryn's hold, and takes out the black bag that holds the snacks, and starts putting them back away, occupied with the task for a few moments of only movement. She has a distant, empty expression on her face.
Mordecai stands and stretches, looking up for his hippogryph. No sooner does he spot her than she swoops down to land next to him. The whistle seems to have become partially obsolete.
Melancholy finishes tucking away her snacks, and then jolts with a gasp, grabbing onto Bryn. "Oh! Oh, no! The fighting — it went near the Shrine of the Stars! Miserie is there! And Theris!" One of those is probably more likely to be Very Okay in the middle of a giant battle, but her worry seems to be equal between the two.
"Do you want to head straight there? I have thirteen minutes on the soulstone, I can make it to Mistfall all right." Mordecai looks between the two of them.
Baird puts his arm around Melancholy again and regards her steadily. "What do you want to do? We can bring the Bishop with us to see them, and then you can stay with your sister while I fly with him to Mistfall to make sure he gets there okay?"
"I don't know," Melancholy admits, her gaze roving chaotically all over the place. "I don't even know where Miserie or Theris would be. I don't want to delay Mordecai for the resurrection possibilities. I can't recast the soulstone for another seven minutes at the earliest to refresh it. I don't even know how long it takes to fly to the places." She turns something like The Eyes on Bryn. Tell her what she's supposed to do?
"We'll go to the Shrine," Baird says, with a glance at Mordecai to check. "There might be people there who need help, too. If everything's okay, you sit tight with Miserie and I'll go with the Bishop to Mistfall? You can put a fresh soulstone on him meantime if it wears off somewhere in there." He looks at Mordecai. "Is that okay, sir?"
"Of course," Mordecai says, climbing up onto Almond.
Melancholy looks relieved, slumping partially in Bryn's grasp. "Okay," she says. She picks up Mordecai's handkerchief, and with the other hand reaches for Bryn's to get herself up into a stand. She looks a bit a mess of smeared and partially dried makeup, and her veil hastily and imperfectly pinned up into her hat.
Baird helps Melancholy up carefully, and with his other hand signals for his gryphon. The sharp-eyed animal plummets from the Pagoda's roof and waits restlessly for them to mount.
Melancholy tucks the handkerchief into her own bag, and clumsily half collapses upwards onto the gryphon. She sighs once she's on.
Baird climbs on behind her and wraps his arms around her to take the reins in one hand. He nods at Mordecai and Almond, and then urges his gryphon into the air and toward the Shrine.
Almond takes off after the gryphon.
The Shrine of Seven Stars is bustling. It looks like the wounded and dead are being carried into the lower level beneath the balcony, and once Mordecai dismounts Almond on the terrace he turns to the others. "I think there's plenty of work for me to do here after all," he says. "Don't worry about Mistfall Village."
"Okay," says Baird. He slides down from his own gryphon and reaches a hand to help Melancholy. "Hang on," he says over his shoulder to Mordecai. "Real quick."
"All right." Mordecai hangs on real quick.
Melancholy slides off the gryphon, holding onto Bryn's hand, with more of an ooze than a delicate lady, and she also says, "All right." She might not realize who it was for, but she's also hanging on. Real slow.
Baird turns away from Melancholy to take two swift steps and grab Mordecai into a hug.
"Oh," Mordecai says, surprised, but he hugs Baird right back. He is good at hugs.
"Oh," Melancholy says, also surprised.
Baird steps back but hangs on to Mordecai's shoulders for a moment. "Thank you, sir," he says seriously. "For everything today." He pats Mordecai's shoulder a little awkwardly and lets go, but his gray-blue gaze is steady and intent.
Mordecai nods, dropping his eyes for a moment and then looking bravely back up. "You're welcome. You can thank me by not calling me sir. Please. I'm just Mordecai."
"Okay," Baird says. "Just Mordecai. Thank you."
Mordecai smiles shyly. "Thank you too, sir."
Baird blinks. "Oh," he says. "It's just Baird, Mordecai."
Melancholy laughs, a tired dark bell, listing a little to the side in a partial standing slump. "It's Just Melancholy, too." She's one of the Just Us Kids.
"Oh!" Mordecai goes a little red around the ears, but he makes a faint noise of amusement. "Just Mordecai, Just Baird, and Just Melancholy."
Some Time Later
Miserie is not on the terrace of the Shrine of the Stars; she is not in her room; she is not in the Golden Lantern. Melancholy has run out of the entirety of the locations that were a reasonable guess to search for the befrilled mage, and the panic begins to set in, standing by the interior entryway of the Golden Lantern as she gives the rest of the Shrine another look, in case Miserie might wander by. Melancholy has a sheen of sweat over her pale face.
"I don't know where else she would — " Melancholy stops mid-sentence, and mid-walk, blinking as a Thought occurs to her through the growing panic. She spins on her heel to fully face Bryn, with a sharp exhale of oh! "I'm a warlock!" This… is not likely the revelation. She gives a breathy, relieved laugh. "I can summon her! From anywhere she may be! As long as we find another person willing to help."
"You're a warlock," Baird repeats, a soothing affirmation. He looks around. "We can grab someone. Place is full of people." He steps away from Melancholy — only an arm's length away, his hand still resting reassuringly on her back — to scan the people hurrying around them. "Hey, excuse me?" he calls, in the time-honored traditional see-who-reacts fashion.
That draws attention, but someone is already approaching. Lady Alaisa is wearing a leather breastplate over a very nice white blouse with scalloped sleeves - definitely not ideal underarmor. A long cobalt blue skirt has been girded up neatly above her knees and tied in a bow, and she has white stockings beneath that. She is wearing leather boots that seem to be part of the same set as her breastplate. Her makeup is perfectly done, so subtle that it almost looks like she isn't wearing any. Belted to her waist are two Alliance-issue standard footman's swords. "Who are you looking for?" she asks, her eyes sweeping over Baird and Melancholy.
Melancholy takes a second to place Alaisa, which probably speaks to her state. "My sister, Miserie. Do you know where she is?"
Baird stares at Alaisa for a long, intent moment and then blinks once. He steps close to Melancholy again.
"Oh! I actually did see her a few hours ago at the Seat of Knowledge, that library up at the top of the palace outside. But I don't know where she is now, though." Alaisa's voice is friendly, but her eyes don't stay fixed on the two of them - she is watching the exits.
Melancholy's pallor goes into dangerous territory, and she sways against Bryn. "Oh, no. Oh, no. That's where Zhao-Jin was," she says, clearly distressed. But, even so, she draws her athame with purpose. "I can summon her. I only need two other people to focus the portal." It's spoken like someone reciting a summary of notes to self, perhaps to stabilize the frame of mind necessary. She looks from Bryn to Alaisa, and it's probably the saddest and most desperate pleading version of her Pretty Please Eyes yet, shined with tears, as if either one of them might possibly refuse the request otherwise, or maybe it's just Melancholy's innate self to ask this way. "Will you help me, please?"
"Of course, you don't even need to ask. I know your sister, that should help, right?" Ally flashes her a smile - and it looks like she's fully Ally again, that strange dissonance about her posture gone. She is a noblewoman who got some swords and armor from somewhere, that's all.
Baird was watching Alaisa watch the exits — as a person who watches things, he notices that — but when Melancholy speaks his attention goes to her. He makes another shift closer. "Yeah. Of course, yeah. Let's get her," he says soothingly.
Melancholy doesn't clear off to a subtle side, or retreat back into a room for ultimate discretion — nope, it's happening right here, right now. Melancholy takes a deep, slow breath, lets go of Bryn, and takes a stand about two feet away, and the athame begins to glow with a cool, eerie blue-green light; it catches alight in the palm her other hand that she raises up to the air in front of her, and there isn't even a pause in the start of the portal — immediately a fel green oval forms, two shining tendrils waiting for their tethers. The scent of the fel stings the air.
Baird takes a step farther back to supply more room, and reaches at once for his tether. Mrs. Shine has taught him well.
Alaisa steps to her tether, reaching out and thinking of Miserie, bringing her to the forefront of her memory.
Despite her state, where standing seems to take nearly the whole of her effort, Melancholy's summoning is textbook flawless and meticulously powered by the fel exactly as it is intended to be, something practiced over and over and over obsessively until she could possibly do it in the middle of a battle, having failed it once before.
Melancholy's call for Miserie has all the psychic sense of a strong will, and a sure connection to the summoned, with a joyful and genuine love behind it that could only belong to Melancholy.
Then there is the moment of contact, and Miserie flits through the Nether to appear between the three of them. There's no sign that Miserie was in any battle, and she's wearing a casual pink ruffly skirt with a black corset top, her hair tied underneath a more streamlined, library-appropriate, pink floral hat.
"Is that what it's like, then? The warlock summon," Miserie says, and then she notes the three people, the atmosphere. "What's happened?"
Baird steps back. He is not wearing anything casual. His hair is a damp disarray, and he is streaked with sweat and grime, his armor bearing the various damages and spatters of combat.
He nods politely at Miserie.
Melancholy doesn't explain anything, and she doesn't even let go of her athame when she rushes Miserie, pulling her into a hug, the dangerous knife pointed away from Miserie, at least. There's possibly a brief, but notable moment of badly streaked makeup down Melancholy's incredibly pallid face, her veil unusually and haphazardly pinned into her hat, and smears of ash around her arms and down the front of her lowcut robe, and then she's clutching Miserie close, trembling like a willow branch in a high wind with shaky breaths that threaten to turn into sobs of equal parts relief and exhaustion.
"The Shao-Tien clan attacked the Valley," Ally explains.
Miserie is startled, but she returns the hug, holding Melancholy tight with no concern for any stains or smearing on her own clothing. She pats Melancholy gently on the back as she trembles, though she looks frightened herself now, and then glances up as Ally explains. "Is… is everyone alright?"
"Zhi the Harmonius is dead, and the pandaren who were watching over the relics were killed," Melancholy tells Miserie. "And probably others. Are you all right? Did Zhao-Jin hurt you at all?"
Alaisa's answer to Miserie's question is just a blunt "No," delivered at the same time as Melancholy speaks.
"Zhao-Jin? No… I was indoors," Miserie says, squeezing Melancholy a little tighter. "I didn't see any Zhao-Jin at all."
Melancholy sinks a notable portion of her weight onto Miserie in greater relief with an audible breath out. Congrats, Miserie, you are now the current temporary solution for how Melancholy remains upright. She doesn't seem like she's going to explain any additional information or context, or near death experiences.
"The Golden Lotus had losses. And Melancholy had a bad moment," says Baird. He is not looking at Miserie; his unblinking pale gaze is fixed on Melancholy herself. "But Bishop Aspenwood was there. And Sir Dane the Red told Melancholy she fought well." He pauses. "She was pretty magnificent out there."
"Sir Dane the Red of Stormwind? Bishop Aspenwood?" Miserie blinks, like this are figures out of a storybook. Melancholy did say she knew them. "It sounds like you all have been very heroic."
Alaisa takes a step back to stand next to Baird. "Hey. How over do you think it is?"
Baird looks at Ally. He stares for a moment and then says, "Over. Maybe stragglers in the hills. But the Celestials were on the field. It's down to medics and morgues now."
Melancholy straightens, standing more upright again, as she presses the heel of a black lace gloved hand over first one eye, then the other, sniffling. She seems even more drained, but by her garters, she's still going. "Bryn killed Zhao-Jin. He's dead, really dead. Leven was sure of it." The way she says it is possibly half for herself hearing it out loud as much as for anyone else's edification of details. "And the pandaren have begun celebrations for the Jade Army's defeat, but I don't know if that means everyone has stopped fighting everywhere. The mogu sent assassins to ambush people, and who knows if there are more invisible or not out there," she adds, turning her head to face Bryn more fully, although her eyes are on Alaisa. "Ally, have you seen Theris? Do you know where he is?"
Baird blinks once when Melancholy declares him The Killer of Zhao-Jin.
"I last saw him when I returned from the library, about two hours ago. He was headed out into the vale." Ally crosses her arms over her chest. "He hasn't come back to the room yet."
"Oh, no," Melancholy says. She's been saying it a lot today. But her free hand picks at Miserie's shoulder for a moment before she stops it with a muttered, sorry. "I don't know if I should summon him. He may be out there hunting down the ones trying to flee or regroup, or he might be helping someone caught by one, and if I summoned him, he would stop what he was doing and answer it, in case I meant it as an emergency, I'm sure of it. I don't want that."
"It's true. Don't summon him, you've got the right idea. He would answer a summons no matter what. You look like you're barely standing." Alaisa shakes her head and sighs. "Tell you what. When he comes back, I'll put a note under your door. If you don't get it by, I don't know, tomorrow, we can summon him then."
Baird gives Ally a tired half-smile.
Miserie gives Melancholy another little extra pat and a wavery little smile. "Theris knows how to handle himself out there, doesn't he? He'll probably head back once the mogu are good and routed."
Melancholy deliberately tries to further collect herself. "I'm less worried about the mogu, and more if someone might see a death knight out there, and be inordinately cruel to him," she says. Yes. She is worried that someone might hurt his feelings. She sighs again. "But, all right. A note under the door, and if it's not there by tomorrow's dawn, then I'll summon him." Knowing Melancholy she really means like, the dawn dawn. "I should like to go to my room now. I don't think I can stay standing much longer."
"Should I stay with you?" Miserie asks, looking down at her solicitously. "For helping with the summoning in the morning, if it's needed?" Also because Melancholy is in distress and is her little sister, but she doesn't say that part out loud.
Having been reassured that the fight is over-over, Alaisa undoes the knot in her skirt and smooths it back down over her legs. "I'll write one as soon as he comes back," Ally promises.
Miserie smiles over at Ally. "It is good to see you again, Lady Alaisa. It was rude of me not to say immediately, but I was caught a bit off-guard."
Alaisa smiles back. "Oh, of course. Likewise!"
Baird looks from Miserie to Melancholy. Should her sister stay with her? His expression is impassive.
Melancholy pulls a smile on through sheer force of will, and steps out of Miserie's embrace slowly, a gentle pulling away. "Oh, no, no, I'm all right, Miserie, thank you. I should just like to go to my room, please. I need to take a bath, and then I'll… just do my usual routines. I mostly need my normalcy," she says, and the last two may be directed at Bryn, or maybe just in general and her eyes came to land on him, since she does always try to face him when she's talking.
"If you're sure," Miserie says, looking at her with a touch of uncertainty. "You know where I'm staying, if you need me."
Melancholy sheathes her athame in a sudden awareness that woah! she's still holding a knife way, and tries to smooth down her chaotic, sweat and wind frizzed curls around her face. "As long as I know you're safe and all right, that will help enormously. I'll be sure to save some room for a brunch, when you wake up? Maybe we could have some conjured cinnamon rolls?" It's been years since Melancholy has asked for conjured cinnamon rolls.
Alaisa begins to quietly withdraw.
Baird glances at Alaisa and nods once. "Thank you," he says, low-voiced. "I hope Theris is okay."
Alaisa nods seriously, flashing Baird a quick thumbs-up.
"Of course, Melancholy," Miserie says with a soft smile, her eyes sparkling. "I would love to make some cinnamon rolls." She looks over at the others. "For you and however many friends join us."