Saturday, December 26, 2009

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Distortion


Just a distort of the last picture, gloomed and filtered. Makes a great desktop!

Monday, December 14, 2009

Finished Picture


Background, bloom/gamma adjust

Just an extra drawing

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Sixth Posting

Sintas Ilthalaine walked quickly along the path to the Cenarion Enclave in Darnassus. The iridescent flagstones pressed back against her feet, still sore from her long trek to the great tree upon which the city itself lay. She glanced up to the top of the archdruid's tree, curbing her inherent desire to simply marvel at the fact that night elves still retained the ability to dwell within living trees, even in these difficult days. She shook her head to herself at the sight of a silhouette in one of the top floor's windows. He wouldn't be happy with her tardiness, not one bit. But then again, what did make the man happy?
   The fair druid sighed, finally reaching the ramp into the tree. She gave a hurried wave to each of the suppliers on the first level, offered a quick bow to Mathengryl on the second level, then scurried along the outer walkway that wound its way around the tree, leading her up to the top level. She raised a tired fist to knock on the door, but it struck air. The door was yanked open before she could offer her announcement of arrival, and worse, the visage that greeted her was none other than the stern gaze of one terribly displeased Archdruid Fandral Staghelm.
   "You're late," he declared flatly.
   Sintas sighed, nodding in resignation.
   He rolled his eyes, setting a hand on her arm to usher her in. The door swung closed, rattling its frame slightly.
   Sintas stepped over to a bench, ignoring the usual magical this-or-that sitting on the table next to the bench in favor of simply holding up a cloth-bound stack of papers to Staghelm. He snapped it up quickly, and then unwrapped it slowly as he spoke.
   "Late, always late. I dare to wonder how well you plan on serving the Cenarion Circle when you cannot even show up on time. Wasting my time, wasting the Circle’s time."
   Sintas remained silent, knowing nothing she could say would cause him to be any nicer towards her. She was all too familiar with his way of domineering conversations.
And yet, she thought, why wouldn't he? He is about eight feet tall, after all. Certainly, he must feel some sort of power over all others because of that alone.
   Staghelm paged through the report, golden eyes scanning each hand-written paragraph. The discerning orbs flickered to Sintas' direction now and then, as if to be sure she was still sitting complacently, not about to argue with him. He dropped the report on the table abruptly, causing Sintas to jump.
   "Skittish, as usual."
   Sintas ventured a glance up at him. Such a stern visage, indeed! She couldn't begin to imagine getting in an actual fight with him, though they had had arguments in the past.
   Heated arguments.
   Sintas smiled up at him a bit.
   "Only in your presence, Archdruid."
   He scoffed, his voice irritated. "You've been calling me by first name for how long?"
   She raised a brow. "...I thought you would like to be called by your title now and then. My apologies, Fandral."
   He let out a heavy sigh. "Being addressed by my title simply spurs the instinct that I'm about to be requested to do something I wouldn't normally do. My first name is preferred." He looked her over a bit. "What progress has been made in Outland?"
   Sintas shrugged. "Well... I've figured out a new path for one of the rivers... But the problem of it is that--"
   "It's a dying planet. A speck of a grand world clinging to life, but losing its grip rapidly. Yes, I know."
   Sintas sighed. Here he goes, she thought.
   "Honestly, there shouldn't be any effort put into it. Let it die in peace. After all, it's not as though we would be losing anything or anyone important."
   Sintas frowned. "Yes, I know your views on, how should I say it this time, anyone without long ears, tall stature, and at least nine thousand years of life lived."
   Staghelm waved a dismissive hand. "On second thought, take Outland's business up with Saturna instead. He'd give you more satisfactory answers, undoubtedly."
   Sintas leaned back on the wall behind the bench, frowning. She sat there for a moment, fidgeting with a feather on her kilt as Staghelm watched expectantly. She hesitantly opened her mouth to speak.
   "Has there been any word from--"
   "No."
   She sighed. "It's been so long... I fear for him deeply."
   Staghelm raised a brow. "Yes, we're all concerned. Yet you look just as the high priestess does when he's discussed in her presence."
   Sintas blushed.
   Staghelm frowned. "Out with it."
   Sintas shrugged. "I... Well, I've been spending the majority of my time in the Eastern Kingdoms, as you know."
   "Get to the point. I'm the one who assigns your work, I know where you've been."
   Sintas nodded quickly. "Yes. Well, the men there are rather... insufferable."
   Staghelm blinked. "Ah. But you have... Whoever he is to protect you, yes?"
   Sintas shook her head.
   Staghelm's brows shot up.
   "But I thought you had promised yourself to--"
   "No," she said flatly, signaling her abhorrence to discussing the person further.
   Staghelm eyed her a moment, then nodded slowly.
   "I see..." He coughed. "Back to what you were saying earlier."
   Sintas nodded, eyes on her hands, resting on her lap. "Yes. Anyways, many of them have approached me for..." She wrinkled her nose. "...Various purposes. Some of them elves, others humans. And I've given a few of them a chance. But... I've become convinced." She nodded purposefully.
   Staghelm waited for her to continue. He drummed his fingers on his knee a moment.
   "Convinced of what?"
   "Convinced that..." She bit her lip. "That... None of them are..." She sighed. "I feel terrible. I feel as though I'm above every single one of them. I try to keep myself open to honest suggestions, but I can't help but feel as though--" She blinked, realizing Staghelm wore a wide, entertained smile. "What?"
   Staghelm smirked. "Nothing, nothing. You're simply naïve, Sintas."
   "Naïve? Of what?"
   Staghelm looked about the room nonchalantly. "Of yourself. You haven't changed one bit in your life, so it seems to me."
   Sintas frowned. "I'm well aware of myself. And you make sure of it when I slip up."
   "I point out your flaws in the hopes you'll become the better for them. Surely you understand."
   She sighed. "Of course." After a moment of thought, though, she blinked. "Wait. But if that's the case, what do you think of me?"
   He met her confused gaze with a confident, thoughtful look of his own.
   "The world knows not what it has been blessed with."
   Sintas shifted a bit, having promptly become uncomfortable. "Ah. So... I am doing well in my works, yes? Is that what you mean?"
   Staghelm watched her for a moment, relishing the uncertain expression on her face as she awaited his confirmation. He smiled.
   "Yes, of course. You're a very talented druid, Sintas. No one is in a position to question that."
   Sintas nodded slightly. "I-I see. It's good to hear such kind words from you, Fandral." She glanced at the door. "You have my next assignment, correct?"
   Staghelm nodded, standing up. "Yes. I'd like you to deliver this report to Saturna. I have other business to attend to, another druid to meet with. Return to me once you've discussed the contents of the report with him."
   Sintas smiled, assured now that nothing was amiss. "I'll make haste." She nodded, stepping to the door and turning the handle. She blinked, chiding herself mentally for forgetting to check the lock on the door. A quick turn of the lock, a twist of the handle, and the door opened.

wisp,night elves,world of warcraft,gif,animated


   Striding down the familiar path from the teleportation point, Sintas straightened up the stack of papers. She wrapped the cloth around them again, tying the string attached to the cloth, and nodded to herself, content that the papers were presentable.
   Rabine Saturna drummed his fingers on the railing of the meeting hall in Nighthaven, looking out over Lake Elune'ara with a grim expression. His thoughts rested upon the returning highborn of Eldre’thalas, those who were among the caste responsible for the Sundering. To think they hoped to be welcomed back into society… He wasn’t fond of it, especially after the corruption of the Fruit of Fertility in their very city. The sound of light footsteps crept into his consciousness, bringing him back to the present setting. He turned, standing up straight. Sintas bowed respectfully.
   "Rabine."
   Saturna nodded. "Greetings, Greenkeeper. We have a report to discuss, I presume?"
   Sintas smiled, nodding. She held out the cloth-wrapped report to him, grateful for his kind demeanor after dealing with Fandral.
   "Yes, it's the most recent report of Outland for your consideration. A letter from Ysiel is enclosed as well."
   Saturna smiled. "Good, good. How is the Expedition doing out there?"
   "Surviving, thriving now that many threats have been eliminated. There are pockets of naga here and there, but nothing they can't handle."
   Another nod from Saturna. "Glad to hear good news." He began untying the report's bindings. "I'll read through this, contact who I need to. I don't want to keep you long. I'm sure the Archdruid keeps you busy."
   Sintas frowned. "Actually, he didn't seem to have another assignment lined up, as he usually does. He simply said to come meet with him after I finished speaking with you."
   Saturna raised a brow. "That seems a bit uncharacteristic of him. But perhaps it's important. If that's the case, you should return to him immediately."
   Sintas nodded, stepping over to the railing. "Thank you for your time, sir."
   Calling on the spirit of the storm crow, Sintas grew feathers as her armor and staff melded to her body. She shrank slightly, arms elongating and legs shortening as her body transformed fully into the dark grey form of a storm crow. She preened a couple of her feathers, then leapt from the railing, gliding low above the lake. Beating her wings, she climbed into the air, circling a few times as she ascended above the lake. Her sharp eyes set on the giant tree to the west, the rest of her form following her gaze, gliding through the cool air.

wisp,night elves,world of warcraft,gif,animated


   Fandral paced quietly within his chamber, eyes glancing about, scrutinizing his surroundings. He strode quickly to a table, adjusting the magical artifact upon it to the center of the table.
   He reached a hand up to smooth his moss-green mane, concerned that it might have become tangled during his pacing. He mused with himself for a moment, recalling that her hair was never out of place. If a strand were to jut out at any strange angle, though, he probably wouldn't have noticed it. He wondered how she accomplished anything while appearing so... Perfect.
   A knock at his door. For once, Fandral was slightly startled. He strode over to the door, opening it.
   A young messenger looked up at him, holding up a folded note. "Message for you, Archdruid."
   Fandral scowled, snatching the note away. He reached into a bowl by the door and flicked a piece of silver from it to the messenger, closing the door again. Turning from the door, he unfolded the note bearing the seal of the high priestess.

  Archdruid Fandral Staghelm,
   You are reminded of the council meeting in two days time, to be on September third. You are expected to bring one representative from your respective group to meet concerning a matter of great--

   Fandral tossed the note aside, rolling his eyes.
   "Yes, Tyrande, I don't like the highborn either. Let's discuss something new next time, such as your lack of leadership, or your silly policies concerning--"
   Another knock at the door.
   Fandral spun around, stopping himself as he gripped the handle to let out a sigh, expelling the disgust the note brought him. He twisted the handle.
   Sintas waved to him, blinking a bit at his still scowling face.
   "Is something the matter, Fandral?"
   He shook his head quickly, wiping away the expression. "No, not at all. Come in, I've matters to discuss with you."
   She nodded, stepping into the room.
   "I trust Saturna is well and received your report?"
   Sintas nodded. "Yes, he said--"
   "Good. There is an event soon I'd like you to attend with me." Fandral winced slightly, displeased with his speed of reaching his point.
   Sintas nodded again. "I see. What is it?"
   Determined to extend her time spent in his presence, Fandral shifted his jaw slightly. "A council meeting. I've been asked to bring my best representative along with me. That would be you."
   She blinked, raising a brow. "I see--"
   "And I would be terribly displeased if you did not attend."
   Sintas frowned. "Yes, I understa--"
   "It will be the third of September. Your calendar is clear on that day, I trust. I can't imagine you have any other--"
   Sintas' hand shot up quickly to slap over Fandral's mouth, pressing on it.
"Fandral. Silence yourself a moment. If you would, I'd let you know that I wholeheartedly accept your invitation."
   He blinked, taking her hand from his mouth. "Good. Well."
   The two druids watched each other a moment. Sintas, to be sure he had no other attempts at assuring her attendance. Fandral, to figure out what she would do next after such a moment of spontaneity.
   Sintas sighed. Fandral let her hand free of his grip.
   "So..."
   "Yes, Fandral?"
   "You are able to attend on the--"
   "Yes, Fandral."
   Fandral shrugged his shoulders a bit, resettling his feathered spaulders. "Good. I shall expect you at the temple, then. Midnight."
   Sintas quirked her brow. "Midnight? But the council meets an hour after that. You don't need to give me an hour to arrive, I'll get there on time."
   He patted her head. "You were late to meet with me. I would hope the council would be important enough for you to arrive on time, but I can't be sure."
   Sintas reached up, taking hold of his hand and lifting it away from her head. He frowned, looking at her questioningly.
   "Don't do that."
   "Why not?"
   "It reminds me of someone."
   He nodded. "My apologies... Might I ask who?"
   She shook her head.
   "I'd prefer that you don't, no."
   Fandral looked around the room for a moment. What to do, what to do...
   "Ah. Sintas. You are an enchantress, yes?"
   Sintas nodded.
   "Good. Come here a moment, I'd like you to tell me what you think about this artifact."
   Fandral led her over to a table, opening the lacquer box on it. Inside glimmered a white gold, twisted pendant on a chain of matching metal. Sintas eyed the pendant curiously, reaching in to slide her fingertips along its smooth surface.
   "What is this?"
   Fandral lifted the pendant by its chain. "It is a gift to Tyrande from the highborn of Eldre'thalas. They hope to dazzle her with their magics and amulets to get a share of Darnassus for themselves."
   Sintas nodded. "Ah. You're suspicious, I presume."
   He frowned. "Bah. You say that as though it's unjustified. I'd like for you to check this pendant for any unsavory spellwork."
   She nodded, lifting her enchanting rod from its loop on her belt. "Very well."
   Raising the rod over the pendant, she held her free hand under the pendant. The crystal focus of the rod, a perfect spike of Draenethyst, glimmered, picking up on the enchantments of the pendant. Slowly, bits of silvery light slipped out of the pendant, expanding into runes floating in the air. Sintas eyed each rune carefully, waving them aside one by one. Fandral watched closely. The glow of the runes, softly alighting her features. Each curve of her face lit as though a crescent--
   The glowing stopped abruptly as Sintas nodded. "It's fine. There aren't any I was unable to identify, and they really are beneficial. Things such as memory charms. There were two of those... Oh, and a beauty charm." She smiled, placing her rod back on her belt. "Nothing to worry about with it. I'd say it's safe."
   Fandral nodded. "Hrm. That's good. I suppose."
   Sintas rolled her eyes. "You and Tyrande. Who needs the highborn to divide us?"
   He quickly pointed to her, expression hardening into his usual scowl. "As though my distaste for that woman is unfounded! Bah!" He tossed his hands up. "Do you know how far we've come with her in charge? We haven't moved an inch since Stormrage left!"
   Sintas frowned. "Look, Fandral, you're in control of a different part of the night elf forces. You don't have the same--"
   "Vision! She lacks it! All we've done is give ground to the Horde in the name of peace! What kind of peace is it when we lose more and more of Ashenvale to the barbarians?"
   Sintas glared at him. "Fandral, what would you have her do? Declare all-out war on a people who live so close to our own home? I think you underestimate her years of expe--"
   "I don't CARE how many more years she has than me!" he snarled back, lips tight. "Is it my mistake that I was born on a certain date? No! Experience..." He spat. "All it means is one person has had more time to make the same mistakes repeatedly than another given person!"
   Sintas frowned.
   "By that logic, you don't trust me at all."
   Fandral blinked. "What? No, I trust you."
   She set her hands on her hips. "That doesn't make sense, Fandral."
   He blinked again.
   She sighed. "September third?"
   Fandral nodded. "Imperative that you arrive."
   "Of course."
   Sintas turned, stepping over to the door. She turned the lock and twisted the handle, stepping out. Before closing the door, however, she looked back to Fandral.
   "By the way, do I have an assignment or not?"
   He thought for a moment. Sintas smirked; she received more assignments from the top of his head than any actual reasoning.
   "Yes. Go see what the highborn are up to right now. They're lodged in the inn."
   "Report back to you?"
   "Indeed. Don't introduce yourself." He looked her over a bit. "And perhaps change into something less... obvious of druidism."
   Sintas nodded. "Of course."
   She closed the door behind her.

wisp,night elves,world of warcraft,gif,animated


   The sounds of shouting men met Sintas' ears as she strode towards the inn, peering to the entrance. Two males stood by the inn's door; one with white hair tied back in a ponytail and wearing a brilliant blue robe with bright purple embroidery, the other with loose blue hair and a brown leather kilt, lacking both a shirt and shoes.
   Though from the looks of their conversation, they may as well have been coyotes with their hackles raised, as far as Sintas was concerned. She watched as the kilted man shoved the man in blue, and the victim's lack of physical response. She sighed.
   "Children. What are we fighting about?"
   The kilted man whipped around to stare at Sintas.
   "Children? You equate their age-old exile being breached to a child's fit?!" He growled. "Has everyone forgotten but me? Feh!" He stomped away, casting an indignant glare over his shoulder.
   The man in blue looked to Sintas with relief. "Thank you, my lady... He was becoming rather violent."
   Sintas nodded. "Did he simply recognize what you are?"
   The man sighed. "Yes... We had hoped to come here without much incident, but... Alas, we knew we hoped for too much." He smiled. "How rude of me. My name is Farran. And yourself?"
   Sintas fought the urge to bite her lip as she remembered Fandral's order: Do not introduce yourself. She smiled a bit instead, nodding.
   "Ah. You may call me Sint."
   Farren nodded, smiling. "Well. I'm glad a local came to my rescue, then."
   Sintas smiled back. "Of course." She shifted her weight. "So, what's there to do? You haven't had an audience with the high priestess yet, have you?"
   Farren sighed. "Yes. We've all been preparing for that day thus far. Statements, displays of our worth, that sort of business. A lovely lady such as yourself probably wouldn't be interested in the boring exchanges of politics, though." He grinned a bit. "So bore you I will not. Would you care to step inside for a bit of drink, though? Perhaps some conversation?"
   Slimy twit, she thought. She merely shook her head, smiling shyly. "Oh, no, I have other places to be, unfortunately... Perhaps some other time."
   Farren nodded, visibly disappointed. "I see. Of course. I wouldn't want to keep a fine woman from her duties."
   The two elves exchanged parting words, leaving their separate ways: Farren, to the inn, and Sintas, back to Staghelm.

wisp,night elves,world of warcraft,gif,animated


   Fandral found himself busily pacing again, awaiting the knock that would startle him. He had enjoyed being surprised for once, much unlike the usual routine of scheduled appointments.
   And of course, no disasters. Never reported to him, at least. Even news of the Wrathgate and the Battle of the Undercity had reached him slowly.
   Ah, to have the respect and admiration of Shan'do Stormrage... Then everything would be different. Then, Tyrande would listen to him. He would have a voice for once. Most of all, he could cast aside the wench's opinion as easily as she did to his. With that kind of respect, my, he could even shun the simpleton tauren from the Circle. A true accomplishment; something that would set him apart as bold, as useful. He looked around his chamber: a few tables with benches, a chest of drawers. Hanging from the ceiling, two mobiles. Certainly, everything in the room had significance, but he felt something was not... Well, just not good enough. Not good enough for...
   Fandral sank down onto a bench. Why now? Why did this have to strike him now? During what could be the greatest political decision made since the exile of the Quel'dorei, his mind had to be a flurry of thoughts. And none of them happened to relate to the issues at hand.
   Though they were issues. His issues. For the first time in ages, his thoughts were allowed to shift to himself. Not the Circle's problems, not Nighthaven's whining, not the Expedition, not the Silithid...
   The Silithid.
   Fandral shuddered, lowering his head into his hands. The Silithid. Of all the evil in the world that he had faced, none could stand at level with the hatred, the contempt he felt for them.
   Memories began to flash through his mind, the kind of memories that haunted him before sleep. Sun. Sand. An army, looking to him for direction. Dragons, uncaring, unemotional, arrogant. Scarabs, wasps, statues of obsidian brought to life by foul, ancient magics.
   A young elf, growing close to his own size, his head covered by a slick sheet of moss-colored hair, secured tightly in a long tail. Smiling, reassuring.
   Ripped in half before his father's eyes.
   A massive, laughing general. Claws dripping with the elven blood of Fandral's beloved son.
   His hands clenched into fists, gripping strands of his hair tightly. It was too much. Too much for him, too much for anyone, too damned much to live with.
   And before that. His mate, the mother of Valstann. Fate had traded him a wonderful son in exchange for a wonderful mate. Valstann had been the last bit of his love he had left, the last reminder of her face.
   He focused his mind on that memory. Her slender features, laughing eyes, her respect for him. He smiled to himself. Ah, but she would fight him at times. They didn't always agree. But they felt stronger for it.
   Her beautiful face. Full lips, but not by too much. They looked as though they could speak, not just look admirable. Long, flowing hair, the color of spring leaves--
   What? He blinked. No... Her hair had been... He couldn't recall. So long ago, but that color stood out to him. Why that color? Why not the color of his son's hair? They had been similar, hadn't they? He sighed. Replacing his mate's hair color was a simple mistake after such a great amount of time, but that specific color--
   Sintas.
   That was it. That was her color. He recalled his mate once more, straining his memory. But her hair was always that spring leaf color. It wasn't right... That wasn't her. Perhaps it was simply the frequency at which he met Sintas. It had been daily, at the very least weekly for years now. She was a good druid; talented, hard working, and didn't question her assignments too much. He smirked. Too much, yes. She did question them often, though. But they hadn't had that many rows concerning her duties. Obviously, if she disagreed too much, he would have replaced her by now with someone more complacent, someone easier to work with. But at least she asked intelligent questions and was able to put up a good argument. Fandral liked that. The assumption was, and he was well aware, that he enjoyed exerting his forceful personality on others. While it wasn't the opposite, he did feel as though it was too easy to do so. The least the other person could do was put up a fight. And yet, even with his ability to dominate a situation, he still felt he rarely got his way. Tyrande always found some way of undermining him, of forcing some flaw into his judgment.
   A knock at the door. Fandral looked to the door, standing from the bench. He smoothed down his hair, then unlocked the door, opening it.
   Sintas nodded to Fandral. "I spied on the highborn, like you asked."
   He raised a brow. Where had she gotten this dress? He had never even seen her wear it in Darnassus when she was going to or from her house.
   He blinked, then nodded. "Ah. Yes. Tell me what you learned." He ushered her in, closing the door behind her. His finger flicked the lock switch to be sure it locked upon closure. Reliably it had.
   Sintas shrugged. "There was a man accosting one of them when I arrived. I split them up, asked the highborn what he was up to. He said they were simply preparing for the audience with Tyrande." Fandral's lip twitched, about to scowl. "And you, of course." His lip moved no further. Sintas sighed. "I don't think they're up to anything. I honestly think they're going to be cautious this time about what they do." She shrugged. "That's all, really. He invited me in, but I told him I was busy."
   Fandral nodded. "Good. I'm glad they don't think they could simply walk into Darnassus and expect welcome. Feh..." His eyes flickered to her dress. "I've never seen you wear that before."
   Sintas frowned. "Fandral, we don't exactly hang out."
   "Hang out?"
   "You know... Socialize."
   He rolled his eyes. "Humans and their slang. You've spent too much time in the Eastern Kingdoms, obviously." Sintas frowned, opening her mouth to speak. Fandral interrupted quickly. "But it does look fine on you."
   She raised her brow. "Just fine?"
   "Er... Lovely, then. What adjective do you want?"
   She smiled. "I'm kidding. So, what next? Any more paranoid missions for me?"
   He rubbed his beard, thinking... "Well, if they're all just sitting in the inn... Then no. I suppose not." He looked at her a moment, locked in her gaze. Her eyes were pretty, really. A nice shape, evenly spaced, level with each other perfectly. The silvery irises glinted with amber occasionally--
   He grabbed her arms, staring into her eyes further. Sintas yelped, startled.
   "F-Fandral?"
   He squinted. "Your eyes. Something just happened."
   She raised a brow. "What? Is there a bit of something in one? I don't feel anything, but--"
   He took hold of her chin, keeping her head still as he continued to stare. There it was again, another glint of amber. He pulled back, letting go of her chin and loosing his grip on her arm. "Your eyes... If I watch closely, I see... Just small flickers of amber." He frowned. "Have they always been this way?"
   She blinked, brows raised. "I... I don't know. I haven't noticed anything... But I don't look in mirrors often, so--"
   He pressed his thumbs onto her forehead, patting around above her eyebrows. She sighed. "Fandral, what on earth are you doing..."
   He pulled his hands from her forehead, bringing one up to rub his beard. "There aren't any nubs..."
   Sintas frowned. "Nubs?"
   Fandral nodded. "Yes. Nubs. Buds of antlers."
   "Why would I have any?"
   He looked at her with disbelief. "The symbol of divinity, of course! But they aren't present, so perhaps--"
   "No, I mean why would I have antlers at all? I'm female."
   He paused. "...Ah."
   She folded her arms. Great, now she was offended. Or annoyed. Possibly both.
   "Right. Well. Wait and see, I suppose. I don't know of anything else to really do, of course..."
   A heavy knock startled Sintas, her attention whipping around to the door. Fandral stepped over to the door, unlocking and opening it.
   The comparably large and heavily clad Broll Bearmantle looked into the room. He glanced from Fandral, to Sintas, and back again. "...Apologies. Is this a bad time, Archdruid?"
   Fandral smirked. "No. It's not. Care to lend your opinion for a moment?"
   Broll raised a brow. "Not often you ask for my opinion... Of course. What is it?" He cast another uncertain glance at Sintas, obviously wondering what a regularly dressed woman was doing in the chamber of the Archdruid.
   Fandral motioned to Sintas. "Her eyes are developing into amber. I'd like to know what you think this means."
   "Really now?" Broll stepped over to Sintas, of whom was feeling quite small at this point compared to the two massive elves in the room with her. Broll gazed into her eyes for a moment, then reached his thumbs to her forehead as well, pressing in above her eyebrows. His own antlers nearly poked her on a few occasions. He frowned. "So there's no nubs on her, eh?"
   Sintas looked up at him. "I already told Fandral. A female wouldn't likely have antlers."
   Broll straightened his posture, nodding. "A good point." He looked to Fandral. "But not why I'm here. Fandral. I'd like my idol returned to me."
   Fandral shifted a bit, glancing to Sintas. He gestured for her to sit on the bench, guiding Broll to the other side of the room.
   Sintas watched, frowning. Left out yet again. It was usually this way, when there were two male druids in the room with a female druid. The females were later on in druid training, so they were generally considered less important in discussions. She frowned. No, not less important. Less respected. That fit more to the reality of the matter. She returned her attention to the two men discussing Broll's idol. Broll stepped away, looking at Fandral with a sigh.
   "I still don't see what you want with it. But fine, it's safe with you, that's true. You won't be keeping it forever, though. I'll need it back eventually."
   Fandral nodded. "Yes, I know. But there's much to still be learned from it."
   Broll snorted. "It's possible we're not to learn all of its secrets. A gift of trust from Remulos, if you will."
   Fandral nodded. "I see. I'll be careful, as always."
   Broll nodded. He didn't look particularly pleased. "Right." He stepped to the door, then paused, looking back to Fandral. "Ah. Also, the council is meeting soon, aren't they?"
   Fandral nodded. "On the third."
   Broll thought for a moment. "Hrm. If you ever need my advice during one of those meetings... Don't hesitate to ask."
   Fandral nodded again. "I'll keep you in mind, then. I've already a representative to bring with me this month." He gestured to Sintas.
   Broll blinked a few times, then gave a slow nod. "Ohh... Heh. I see." He smirked. "Good advice. Indeed. Evening to you two." He twisted the handle of the door, frowning.
   "Ah, it locks when closed," Sintas offered.
   Broll clicked the lock, then opened the door. "Hrm. Thanks." He stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
   Sintas sat on the bench a moment, drumming her fingers lightly. She sighed, getting up. "Well. I'll be off, then. Nothing more for me to do here."
   Fandral frowned. "Er, wait. Sintas."
   She turned, looking to him questioningly. "Yes?"
   He paused, biting the inner side of his lip. "...I was thinking earlier today. Ah."
   She nodded, listening.
   He reached up, smoothing his hair. "Well." He coughed, sighing. "Do you think I should try for another mate?"
   Sintas raised a brow. "Oh. Well... If you want to, then yes, go ahead." She smiled.
   He smiled back. "You're sure? I know it isn't terribly common."
   She nodded. "Mmhm. If you feel your life is lacking something, and that's what you're missing, then I don't see any reason not to."
   Sintas checked the table by the door to be sure she hadn't forgotten a stack of papers, as she had once before. Fandral watched her, then sighed, lowering his head. Sintas looked back, blinking.
   "Fandral?"
   "Hrm..."
   Sintas walked over to him gingerly. She wasn't sure of what to make of his indecipherable grunt, but such an uncertain sound coming from someone so proud was never a good sign.
   She looked up at him. His eyes were closed, mouth set in a slight frown. She glanced to the side, then back up to him. He reached out and embraced her tightly. Sintas let out a small yelp in surprise, her face heating up.
   This... she thought, This isn't like him. I've never even seen him hug... Anyone. Or show affection, for that matter. Sure, a smile here and there. But... Oh my. Her mind buzzed with thought, most of it flying by too quickly for her to even consider. But one thing was there for her, staying put: him. It wasn't unusual for druid men to be shirtless. That was nearly a tradition. She was used to bare chests, and paid little mind to it. But how well she could hear--no, feel his heartbeat. She felt so small; he always towered over her, and everyone else for that matter, but she felt little more significant in size than a doll. His scent was apparent to her, as well. She had become accustomed to the aged wooden smell of his chamber, as well as his breath during the times when their discussions would escalate to arguments. His body, however, was an entirely different smell. It reminded her of the woods, of the animals. He smelled... Feral. But clean. He didn't smell dirty, not at all.
   She slowly realized, through the haze created by this dizzying array of sensations and thoughts, that her arms were still at her sides. She was still stiffened by surprise, unsure of the next step to take. This wasn't bad... There was nothing wrong with this kind of attention. Still, Sintas debated with herself. Hug him back? What would happen after that?
   She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her hands clasped behind his back at first, then released, setting themselves flat on his skin. The end of his mane of hair brushed against her fingers.

   Fandral stood stoically, arms wrapped around Sintas as though he were guarding her from some unseen enemy. Though he knew that was the way any observer would see it, he knew why he held her; if he didn't, her parting would have come sooner. The loneliness, the echoing silence of the chamber before his own departure, he couldn't have taken it. Not tonight. Not after his worst memories forced their way to the front of his mind. His mate... His son... His head lowered, shoulders slumping as he pressed his lips to her head. He had declared long ago, at the end of the War of the Shifting Sands, that he would have his son back. Back before he had had a chance to mourn, to think, to try getting through outliving his son. He was so angry. And who wouldn't be? He felt justified...
   And yet, despite his losses, despite his mourning, he now felt as though a part of his heart had started to heal. Finally, after so long, he held someone in his arms. Someone he cared for enough to expose himself in his vulnerable mood. He had forgotten this sensation: this sense of another person in the same place as him, not just occupying space near him. He felt finally that someone was with him. Not near him, not by him, not against him. With him. And he hadn't simply forced anyone into such a situation. Sintas had given him her reply. She held him, too. Did she need him?
   She pulled back, sliding her arms back from around his waist. Her eyes were downcast as she offered a quick bow, flicking the lock on the door, twisting the handle, and stepping out.
   Fandral stood in the chamber, staring at the door. The silence of the room overtook him, pressing in on his eardrums. Stepping quietly to the wall opposite the door, his head stayed low. Suddenly, he drew his fist back and slammed it into the wall.
   The wall did not give. His hand was broken.

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   Sintas changed out of her dress into a simple nightgown, sliding into bed. She sighed, realizing she had forgotten to ask about a new assignment.
   How could she even think about that? There was something more pertinent to figure out. Why had he embraced her? It wasn't at all like him to do such a thing. He had been emotionally removed from just about everyone, other than anger from his flaring temper.
   The council meeting was in two days. She knew she would return after tonight to him, to collect an assignment. It would definitely be awkward, to say the least. But she wouldn't bring it up. It was out of line to question him to begin with, so trying to delve into a personal matter of his would be a mistake. There was no telling what his mood would be tomorrow, and she didn't want to take any chances. She trusted he wouldn't overreact.
   Well. Not enough to hurt her, at least.
   She recalled the bang she had heard upon leaving. Whether he had knocked something over on accident or on purpose, she didn't know. Or had he even knocked something over?
Sintas, you worry yourself too much, she thought. He's been alone for a long time. This is a good thing, him showing he's not completely lost to anger. She closed her eyes, rolling from side to side to wrap the covers around her. Yes. It was a good thing.

   She was falling, slowly. She passed through layers and layers of the world, thousands of years of trial and error flying by. She was light as a feather, but falling like a rock. No, not falling. She was drawn to the ground. As soon as she reached it, she fell through it. So it continued, seemingly for ages. Layers. Layers. Layers.
   She sighed. It would not happen. Not tonight. She might as well just wake up, pull herself from the transfer. It had taken too long already. She would not be allowed in. She wasn't particularly disappointed, since it was so dangerous. She was better off just staying out.
   She reached for the tether to pull herself back to her body.
   She missed. She reached again, pulling herself back.

   Sintas woke slowly, each of her senses eventually returning to life, rejoining her awareness. Her ears picked up the sounds of birds and water, wind rustling the trees. The confused, fluid thoughts of dreams began to slow and harden into understandable images. She realized her feet were cold, kicking them a bit to pull the blanket back over them. Her mouth tasted funny; it always did upon awakening, though.
Traveling down the road from Darnassus, she reached the Pools of Arlithrien. The pools were fairly obvious and in-sight for the most part, but taller brush had grown up around one of them. A sapling had sprung up next to the pool. Sintas looked up at its branches, saw no clothes hanging, then knocked on its slick bark twice. No reply came from the water, so she proceeded into the brush, sliding out of her robe and into the water.
   Resting back against the shore, she looked up at the canopy of trees above her, nestled so comfortably, intertwining each others' branches.

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   Fandral was angry. He was usually angry, but this time, he had only himself to direct his rage at. But he had no time to sit alone to fight it out; a representative of Nighthaven was present and speaking to him of matters of utmost importance, undoubtedly. He didn't care much. They constantly pestered him. Why are we doing this? Why aren't we doing that? Bah, he thought. One day per week, I'd like a day away from these ambassadors. It's bad enough we've lost our immortality... But these repetitive fools are probably aging me faster with their drivel. The representative kept speaking. Fandral kept listening, thoughts skipping around now and then. The representative would arrive daily at the same time to report, request, and relax Fandral’s attention span. He had little time to daydream during most of the night, when night elves typically took care of their various businesses, but this visitor was the one in whose presence Fandral could just sit, nod, and glare. I suppose I should be thankful… Still, his daydreaming was rudely interrupted today by his own nagging thought: he had embraced Sintas. There was surely nothing wrong with it.
   To most people.
   He, however, was Fandral Staghelm, Archdruid, known with fear as Kar’sis, “hand of the earth,” by… Well. The insectoid race he would rather not mention, even to himself. But the fact still remained: He was a public figure, leader of the druids, held in high regard by many, and he had no time for the silly act he had done the day before. And it was silly. He reassured himself of that fact. It should not have happened.
   Wait, what will I do when she reports today? He thought, frowning. The representative raised his brows.
   “Archdruid?”
   “Yes, what?” he snapped.
   “Ah. I thought something was the matter. You didn’t look very pleased with what I was saying.”
   Fandral rolled his eyes. “I think I misheard you. You don’t mind repeating it, do you?”
   The representative nodded quickly, backtracking on his list of issues to discuss.    Fandral tried keeping his face neutral, which for him was a mix of annoyance, impatience, and anger. Sometimes he would throw in evident disappointment to cause whoever came to bother him to try harder for his approval.
   “Ah, and as always, we require another shipment of maple seeds.”
   Fandral raised his brow. Something that interested him, at last! “More? You received two in the past two weeks. Either the druids aren’t progressing or there are simply hundreds of them… Which is it?”
   The representative shifted a bit. “Ah, well, a mix of the two, I suppose. As you know, the battles against the Scourge escalate ever higher, and that seems to be a catalyst for more of our own to study a path of life and balance.” He nodded.
   “So some are still lagging behind.”
   He sighed. “Yes, some are. There are always some, though.”
   Fandral rolled his eyes. “I suppose not all of us can be amazing. Very well, is that it?” He glanced to the door’s creamy, nearly opaque glass window. A silhouette stood patiently in it. “I have another appointment.”
   The representative stood up, bowing. “Yes, that concludes our business. Thank you for your time, Archdruid.”
   Fandral gestured to the door. “Indeed. Allow my next visitor entrance, if you don’t mind.” He waited, seated, for the bench in front of him to become occupied again. Who cared who came in next?
   Surprisingly, the bench was not filled. Instead, a human in leather armor of questionable durability stepped in, carrying a bag. Fandral gave the human an appraising look. She appeared to be about twenty-five, was brown-haired, and carried two swords on her belt. She held the bag out to him.
   “Morrowgrain for you, sir!”
   Fandral blinked. “Good. Give it to Mathrengyl.”
   The human tilted her head. “Who?”
   He sighed. “The druid on the floor directly below this chamber.”
   She quickly nodded. “Ohhhh, okay! Sorry!” She pranced out through the door she forgot to close, winding her way around the walkway. She hummed a song to herself, consisting of about five notes, then met face-to-face at a rather high speed with Sintas. The bag’s flimsy flap flew open, spilling the morrowgrain onto the two of them. The human girl quickly stood up, looking at the herb scattered about, then to Sintas, offering her a hand. Sintas shook her head a bit to send the morrowgrain from her face to the walkway, then took the girl’s hand.
   The girl smiled. “Sorry, miss! Should really watch where you’re goin’ there!”
   Sintas rubbed her head a bit, a headache quickly setting in from the herb’s properties. It was similar to the magic used by the more primitive cultures of the world: simple, natural, but difficult to tolerate, even without direction given to it by a caster.
   “It’s fine… You’re right. Sorry about that.” She looked to the girl, then to the massive form looming behind the girl.
   “I think you owe her more of an apology,” Fandral rumbled.
   Sintas quickly shook her head. “Ah, no, it’s fine!” She smiled a bit. “I was miles away, I wasn’t paying enough attention!”
   Fandral frowned at her. “Scatterbrained, as usual.”
   She nodded, stepping past the now terrified girl, busy with picking up the morrowgrain. She frowned. Reminds me of when I first began reporting to Fandral… That was such a mess. She followed Fandral back to his chamber. Looking around the room, she eyed a small dent on the back wall. Maybe that bang I heard was—
   “Alright. Have you heard from Saturna?”
   Sintas blinked, nodding quickly. “Yes. He wanted your approval to reroute one of the rivers in Terokkar—“
   “Denied.”
   She sighed, head lowering a bit. This is how he was going to be today. “Might I ask the reason?”
   “For one, it’s a waste of time.” Fandral snorted. “Outland isn’t our biggest concern right now. Preparing to clean up Northrend after the Lich King is destroyed, however, is.”
   Sintas raised her brows, looking up at him again. “What? They’re moving forward with plans with that finally?”
   He nodded. “Indeed. We will need to work in Crystalsong, in Sholazar, the Hills, probably…” He rubbed his beard. “Well, the whole thing, probably. Dragonblight will be the dragons’ problem.” A shrug. “Now then, to other business—“
   “Fandral?” Sintas looked up at him questioningly.
   He stopped, giving her a strange look. “Yes, what?”
   She bit her lip. “What exactly happened yesterday?”
   He waved his hand, shaking his head. “It was nothing—“
   “It was certainly something.”
   He stopped again, glaring. “That’s twice you’ve interrupted me. You haven’t even been here for five minutes.”
   Sintas folded her arms, lowering her brow a bit. “Yes, but I think it’s rather important, since that isn’t how you usually act.”
   Damnit. Give it a rest, Sintas, he thought. She’s not going to let this go, though… Bah, females. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I told you, it’s nothing. Now, are you here to be given an assignment? I’ve plenty of other appointments—“
   “No you don’t. I asked.”
   He clenched his jaw, glaring at her again. “Three times! That’s far too—“
   “Four!”
   He growled. The nerve! What had gotten into her today? He gave her a hard stare. She returned with her own. They stood there for a moment, waiting for each other to stand down…
   Sintas stepped back, folding her arms. “Look. I thought it mattered, since you’re such a control freak.” Fandral opened his mouth to speak, but she quickly held up her hand to his mouth. “And yes, that’s more of that terrible human slang. Now listen. That’s a sign of trouble when it comes to you. I want to know what’s going on.” She let out a short sigh. “I think it’s pertinent to my business here.”
   Fandral blinked. She had her hand on his mouth again. And she had figured him out completely. He couldn’t allow this… This was insubordination, wasn’t it? Yes, she was being difficult. And he was her superior. This couldn’t be allowed.
   But she had a point. Damnit.
   He pulled her hand from his mouth.
   “You don’t need an answer.”
   A hard slap connected with his face, driven by a great deal of impatience. “Fine. Now I just know you’re either unwilling to be honest with yourself or you’re unwilling to be honest with me.” Sintas shook her head. “You said you trusted me. In fact, you assured me that you did.” She tugged her hand a bit, still held from being taken off his mouth. “If that’s the case, I have other things to do… Now let go.”
   Fandral held onto her hand, looking down at her. His expression had softened: instead of his scowl, his disappointment, he instead wore his disbelief and uncertainty. Though he tried to maintain an over-all stern look, it was almost difficult. This woman… He didn’t know how much he had given away about himself to her. She knew him. She had come to him as just another timid druid, reporting the happenings of her work, and had unknowingly become the unofficial advisor he most looked forward to meeting each day. And the days she didn’t show up were dull… But she was not timid anymore. She, like many others, had heard Fandral was difficult to speak to. But she had gotten past his height, past his personality. Now, she was able to strike back. No longer afraid, no longer concerned with what he would think. But past arguments had usually brought revelations about the argument’s subject to both of them, and they were… stronger for it.
   Fandral watched the glints of amber in Sintas’ determined eyes. “You really do understand me, don’t you…”
   She nodded. “Enough to figure that out.”
   He looked to the dent in the wall. He hadn’t understood it at the time, why he had become so angry with such a simple situation as last night had been. Now he knew. He looked back to Sintas. She was still tugging on her hand, trying to pull it away. But her expression had changed to uncertainty. Whereas before, she was simply angry and frustrated with him, now she had lost her bit of command on the situation. Fandral was acting differently. She didn’t know what he would do next.
   He lifted his free hand to her chin, setting his fingertips just under it to tilt her head up to his. Her eyes were special, and now he couldn’t escape them.
   “F-Fandral?”
   He leaned down, tearing them from his view as he closed his own golden eyes, pressing his lips to hers. Her face rose in temperature against his, her breath stuttering. Maybe she is still that timid druid of the first visit, unsure of how to react to my actions…
   But why was she tapping his shoulder? Fandral pulled back, disappointed. He looked down at her for an explanation. She pointed repeatedly to the door.
   Fandral looked to his left. The door had been left open. And standing in the door was a messenger. Fandral hardened his gaze, about to speak, but the messenger took off like a bolt of lightning down the walkway, dropping the note he had in his hand.
   Sintas stared up at Fandral, cheeks flushed. Her lips were parted slightly, and she almost looked… Scared. Fandral blinked slowly. What was it he had done? It had just been…
   Affection. She’s worried about me because I’m being affectionate.
   Before he could speak, though, Sintas pulled back yet again, yanking her hand free of his and running out the door. She leapt over the railing of the walkway, disappearing from view. A storm crow glided away.
   Fandral sighed, watching the bird disappear from view. He looked down, noticing the folded note the messenger had dropped. He bent over, picking the note from the floor and unfolding it.

  Archdruid Fandral Staghelm:
   You are reminded of

   Fandral crushed the note in his palm, tossing it to the floor. He shut the door of his chamber, flicking his finger against the lock, which had dutifully latched. Pressing his fingertips against the door, he set off to pace across the chamber. You’re intelligent, Fandral. No one doubts it. Now, what do you do? He rubbed his beard. Smooth over relations, let it go, never mention it again, or simply move her to another part of the world? He frowned. But she’s good at what she does… And what she does is act as a messenger… Plus, she can heal anyone of just about anything, from the sound of it… He sighed. What to do… Smooth over relations? Yes, but how? Let it go? How the fel would he do that? Never mention it again? That may work…
   Move her to another part of the world?
   Fandral looked to the dent in the wall. No… Never.
   He raised a brow, stopping his pacing. His fingertips rubbed his beard. Or… Pursue her. He bit the inner side of his lip. Bah. I’m too busy for her, though. She knows that… He sighed. And she didn’t look very pleased at my actions… Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. And the council meeting. She had better attend.
   He eyed the door of his chamber, striding towards it.

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   The storm crow landed on the outer railing of Sintas’ house, hopping from the railing to the floor within the open-air, two-wall building. The crow leapt onto the silk-enrobed bed, then transformed into its true form of a distraught Sintas. She pulled the bed’s single pillow to her head, pressing her face into it.
There must be something wrong, she thought. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have… She stopped, raising her head a bit to rest her chin on the pillow. Or something right. She shook her head quickly. He doesn’t do that, though. He just doesn’t involve himself with others in such a way… What did I do to set this off? She rolled onto her back, jumping with surprise. A storm crow was perched on one of the poles of her bed. She peered at it closely. It didn’t sense as a druid would, but what would it be doing here?
   She held her arm out to the crow, offering a perch. The crow tilted its head toward her arm, a second later hopping from the pole to her arm. She smiled. “Ah, my only comfort.”
   The crow preened an out of place feather on its chest, obviously paying little attention to Sintas. She sighed. “…Maybe I should. He’s not perfect. But he’s someone, and he isn’t that terrible. And maybe I would have more influence over his decisions. That could lead to a better future…” She bit her lip. “But that shouldn’t be the whole reason, now, should it?” She smiled, watching the crow inspect its surroundings. “No, I shouldn’t allow someone so close to me just for a bit of influence. That’s terrible.” Sintas tilted her head, watching the crow a bit longer. She then flung it off her arm. “Nice try, Broll.”
   The crow flapped recklessly, trying to soften its landing. A split second decision, however, returned the crow to the form of Broll Bearmantle, landing on his back side. He was much less heavily geared, causing his antlers to be all the more noticeable. He frowned at Sintas. “How did you figure it out?”
   Sintas grinned. “Storm crows generally aren’t that social. I didn’t sense you very well, but something had to be amiss.” She folded her arms, leaning back on her bed’s headboard. “So. Why are you spying, then?”
   Broll raised a brow. “I was concerned for you. Is that not reason enough?”
   She shook her head. “No. Not for you to be bothering to use your talents for this type of silly, childish espionage, it’s not. Besides, since when did you concern yourself with me?”
   He frowned. “Since Fandral picked you as his representative for the council meeting. It seemed slightly amiss, to say the least. And a while ago, a messenger was running for his life from the Enclave. That was suspicious as well.” He smirked. “What did Fandral do? Just look at him or did he give him an actual glare?”
   Sintas frowned. “The messenger did get a glare, I think. But I’m not attending the meeting for any reason other than Fandral trusts my judgement. I’ve been meeting with him for—“
   “Sintas,” Broll said, stroking his beard. “You realize there’s already a flurry of rumors about, yes? The messenger didn’t just run, he told us of quite an incident.”
   She sighed, pulling her legs to her chest to rest her arms on her knees. Quietly, she said “…Everyone has heard, then.”
   Broll nodded. “Sintas, this incident is going to tarnish the meeting… It won’t be seen as a level field anymore. If you still attend, then… Elune forbid you agree with Fandral on any matter. It already looks like favortism.”
   She rested her chin on her arms. “It certainly isn’t…” She looked to Broll hopefully. “That was the only time it’s happened… That anything has happened like that…” Her head shifted, resting her forehead on her arms. “…And I’m not proud of it.” She sighed, whispering “What will I do…”
   Broll frowned, looking to the floor. He ventured a glance at her still, huddled form. “So it wasn’t your idea, was it.”
   She looked up, cheeks dark. She quickly shook her head.
   He sighed, resting his hand on the pole of her bed he had perched upon. “Sintas… I can convince people that you put the Archdruid into an unsavory situation. But convincing people of the opposite would simply place me as discrediting him. It’s not something I can do.”
   Sintas looked to the side. “Broll…”
   “Yes?”
   She sighed. “I need you to meet with Fandral tomorrow. Tell him… I’m ill, or I’m busy, something, and that I can’t make it to the meeting. Go in my stead if you can.”
   Broll nodded, lips tight together. He glanced around. “Do you have any notes I could bring with me for the meeting? I may be respected, but… You’ve been reporting directly to Fandral for years…”
   Sintas slipped off the bed, lifting the lid of a tall, reed basket by her nightstand. She dug around a moment, lifting aside a few small, burlap bags before finding a wood-bound journal. She opened it up, paging through, dog-earing pages as she scanned them for important information. Finally, she closed the journal, holding it out to Broll. “This is the past year.”
   Broll accepted the journal, slipping it under his arm. He frowned with disappointment. “You should be at the meeting, though. Not I.”
She nodded, sitting back on her bed. “Maybe the next one. And maybe not. I’ll see eventually.”
   He stepped over to the railing encircling the house, stepping onto the wide, flat banister. He set the journal on the banister, shifted to his storm crow form, and picked the journal up in his talons, gliding off into the night. Sintas watched his thunder cloud grey form disappear, laying down on her bed.
   She was so tired.

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   A slight rustle of leaves traveled quietly through Darnassus, flowing softly beneath the decks of buildings. Only one of which was of interest to the sound. It stopped, sampling the air around it. A snort expelled the air from its lungs, continuing along its way.
   Finally, it turned its senses to a ramp leading into a house. The great cat removed itself from the shadows, sniffing the ramp. It rubbed its head on the ramp, leaping up onto it silently. Sharp eyes spotted the edge of a blanket, tassels adorning its edges, covering a form beneath. The cat slipped around the bed, slid under, and grabbed the blanket in its teeth, pulling it off the bed and in turn covering itself. The cat twitched its tail from side to side, watching the blanket’s owner reach for the missing piece, sigh heavily, then sit up. The green-haired girl peered around in the darkness, quickly spotting her blanket on the animal. She slid off the bed, sliding her feet into sandals.
   “That’s mine…”
   The cat sidestepped away, causing the girl to frown. “Ach… Come here, give it back. I don’t need any games right now…”
   The cat trotted from the house, blanket still concealing it. Sintas sighed, smoothing down her hair and taking her robe from one of her bed posts. She hurried after the cat, wrapping the robe around her as she followed. The cat slipped outside the rows of houses, into the Temple Gardens.
   “You’re not supposed to be here!” Sintas called after it, trying to keep up while trying to keep her sandals on. This can’t be just a cat. Obviously. She coughed a bit, her throat still stiff from sleep. “Broll! Come on, let me sleep!”
   The cat turned its head for a moment, then continued on, deeper into the gardens. It slipped quickly into a grove of small trees, snaking easily through the brush. The blanket was pulled from its back on its way under the bushes. Sintas sighed with relief, finally to the bushes. She bent down, taking the blanket in her hand, tugging on it lightly. The cat, however, tugged back, teeth in the blanket. She frowned.    “Broll, come on! This isn’t the time!” She pulled back harder, lost her grip, and fell into the bushes with a yelp. The cat backed up, blanket in its mouth, moving out of view. Sintas furrowed her brow. She was too tired for this nonsense. What did he want with her blanket, anyways? She pushed herself up from the bush, wincing slightly as she relaxed her right hand. Her palm opened, and she found a long, red mark in the middle of it. She slumped against a tree, pressing her lips to the wound for a moment. Honestly, why am I out here… I should have just let him have the blanket. I’m too tired to even concentrate on healing this… She groaned. What a night…    She peered around into the darkness, spotting a flagstone path, iridescent in the moonlight. She quickly stepped over to it, still nursing the wound on her hand. The path continued past the bushes, into a sitting area. Two benches sat on either side of a table, all pieces composed of white marble. She tread the path carefully, looking for the shimmer of her blanket. Her eyes scanned the brush carefully, watching for any eyes peering out at her. Her gaze returned to the table and benches, realizing the blanket had been under one of the benches.
   “Finally…” She strode over to the bench, crouching down to pick it up. “Broll, you enjoy your animal forms far too much for my patience at the moment…”
   Still crouched, she realized there were two feet on the other side of the bench. She blinked, following the feet to a long cloak, evergreen and velvet. Adorning the shoulders was intricate silver embroidery, winding in patterns akin to slim vines, leaves spreading below the vines. The hood was simple, wide enough to shadow the person’s features.
   Her eyes narrowed slightly as she held her blanket to herself, taking a step back. The tall figure reached a hand out from the cloak to caress her face. “Don’t go… Not yet.”
   She raised her brows. “Fandral… What… Why did you bring me here?”
   He stepped over the bench, standing within inches of her. He reached down, taking her hand and turning it to view the wound on its palm. He shook his head slowly. “My apologies…” He pressed his finger into one end of the wound, sliding it slowly across. A green glow followed his finger, sealing the wound shut without a scar. “…but I desired to meet you without chance of being seen.”
   Sintas lowered her head, sighing softly. “Fandral… It’s too late. It won’t matter. There are rumors—“
   He pressed two fingers to her lips gently, shaking his head. “I don’t care. You’re right, it won’t matter. So what difference does it make?”
   She watched him for a moment, hesitating. “You’ve been alone for such a long time, haven’t you, Fandral…”
   He nodded, slipping off his hood. “But you. You’ve been there for me.” She shook her head slowly, but he placed his hand on her cheek. “Sintas… You have.” He paused, jumbled thoughts stalling him. “You’re… I enjoy your presence. Your input. You’re the one visitor I miss on your absent days. We argue, you’re… We’re stronger for it…” He sighed, lowering his head. “I… What I mean to say is… You’re the only one I actually want to see.” He gazed down into her eyes, stroking her face. “Sintas, I… I—“
   She turned, shaking her head. “Fandral, no.” He quickly took hold of her shoulders, turning her back towards him. “Yes.” He watched her, determined. “And why not? You told me if I felt something was missing, I should try finding it.” He pulled her against himself. “Sintas, I’ve been thinking for a very long time… But I thought you were promised to another.”
   She pulled back slightly. “Fandral, I—I can’t.” She shook her head. “How can you even imagine this? We don’t agree on anything, I’m probably already in trouble as it is—“
   “In trouble with who?”
   She blinked, eyes darting up to him. “…It’s wrong. You can’t just favor me like that.”
   He smirked. “I’m the Archdruid. I’ll watch them try and stop me.”
   She shook her head quickly. “No… No, don’t you get it? It would discredit you!” She sighed heavily. “That just… That’s a terrible idea.” She lowered her head. “I’m probably seen as some sort of seductress by now, anyways…” Closing her eyes, she let out another sigh. “Fandral… Why did you do it?”
   Fandral stroked her hair gently, easing her head forward to rest on his chest. “It was right of me. I wanted to… So I did. Do I need further reason?”
   Sintas gazed up at him, her expression torn. His loneliness must be unbearable… But I can’t possibly be the one to fill that void. I just can’t.
   He lifted her under her shoulders slightly, leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek. “I don’t often beg… But now, I am. Please…”
   She shivered in the cold night air, raising her hand to place her fingertips on his lips. She gazed up at him; He was certainly handsome. A thick beard, mane of mossy hair, sculpted face… And powerful: physically, socially, and magically.
   Very powerful… What would happen if she refused him?
   But he’s not that bad, right? Sintas thought, frowning as she remembered just how bothersome he could be. He was rarely in a good mood. This vulnerability he was showing her, this pleading face, this was not Fandral. She didn’t know what it meant, but it couldn’t be good, coming from him.
   She drew her hand back, shaking her head. “I’m taking the day off tomorrow. I’ll see you at the meeting on the third.” She stepped back, watching him carefully. Rage wasn’t overcoming his expression… His hands weren’t clenching into fists. All she really saw was disbelief. She turned, striding out of the garden and wrapping her blanket around her shoulders.
   Sintas strode along the path of iridescent flagstones, the cool, cleansing air of the gloaming sliding across her skin. She closed her eyes, already knowing the path. It was the right thing to do, she thought. It wouldn’t have been true, and it definitely wouldn’t have been enjoyable, to say the least. He’ll find someone who is completely enamored with him, I’m sure. After all, he’s the Archdruid. He’s sure to have fans somewhere.
   She opened her eyes, frowning. Something was above her, she could sense it. She looked up, watching a storm crow glide down to the path in front of her and shift, becoming the familiar form of Broll. He frowned at her. She smirked. “I should have known.”
   Broll snorted. “I can’t tell what it is you’re up to. I think I’ve figured out your aims, then you surprise me yet again.” He shrugged at her. “So what will you do? You will attend the meeting? Have you changed your mind so quickly?”
   Sintas narrowed her eyes. “I’m not afraid of rumors, Broll. They won’t stop me from conveying my better judgment of a situation. I’ll attend the meeting and I’ll do all I can for the best outcome.”
   “This isn’t about your ‘better judgment,’ Sintas. This is about the fact that no one will believe you.”

   Fandral watched as Sintas shrank into the distance along the path. How can she just… Just ignore me?! He sighed. What did I do wrong… Watching her a moment more, he blinked. She stopped on the path. A bird landed in front of her.
   ...Broll? What’s he doing here?
   Fandral narrowed his eyes. If this is what I believe it to be…

   Sintas shook her head. “No, I’m not that childish. Is it so hard to believe that I hope to make a difference? Is it shameful that Fandral had his own ideas about the relationship between us? It is not.” She stared up at Broll, his height being less noticeable now for some reason. “I will do what is right. I will perform my duty to our people by providing wisdom and insight to important decisions. Silly gossip and one man’s desires will not impede my progress in doing so, Broll!”
   Broll grasped her shoulders, returning her hard stare with his own. “You fail to understand, even still! I am telling you what is for your own good, can you not accept it? Sintas, just lay low for a while, until this petty gossip has run its course, then return to the public eye! Otherwise, you only damage yourself! Where will your chance to make a difference be if you ruin it outright?”
   Sintas raised a brow. “You’re desperate to be in the meeting, aren’t you, Broll?” She tilted her head. “Is it Ashenvale?”

   Broll’s hands were on her. And she wasn’t pushing him away. Fandral’s jaw clenched. This is how she thanks me. For all the recognition and good recommendations I’ve given her, this is what she does. He had seen enough. He fell onto all fours as his form shifted back into that of the cat, slinking off into the shadows. His heart, which had grown heavy in his chest, now swelled with burning rage. But he was comforted. His rage was familiar to him, it was common.
   And he was very justified in such rage.

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   The following day passed without much incident; Sintas read through her numerous notebooks and journals, looking for pertinent information while sipping a cup of cinnamon tea. Her bedroom floor was covered with the various pieces of paper she had taken from her notes, strewn about in the usual creative chaos of such moments. The highborn were a unique opportunity, due to one talented individual of the past: Millicent Serene. She had been an enchantress, much as Sintas was, but had taken her craft a step further. Somehow, by accident or by careful planning, she had developed formulae of enchantments that imbued objects with the very will of nature. This had granted much power to Eldre’thalas, and had also gained them favor with the world around them. Unfortunately, Millicent herself had passed away centuries ago, leaving only her notes and published works behind. Sintas bit her lip. If I could get my hands on those notes… She frowned. I wonder how willing the highborn would be to relinquishing those notes, though… To anyone, let alone another enchantress. She stretched her arms over her head, yawning. How long had she been at this? An hour? Surely longer than that. Two hours, at least. Though she couldn’t blame herself for taking so long, really. It was an important subject, and required plenty of thought and knowledge ahead of time. The highborn had been the upper caste of the first night elven society, the favored of Queen Azshara. And though these highborn of Eldre’thalas had not been at work in Zin’azshari working to bring in the Burning Legion, they were still a part of such a society. Plus, they had been led by a corrupt prince. Growing desperate in isolation and pained after the destruction of the Well of Eternity, the prince had ordered a demon be summoned as a source of power for the highborn. It had worked, for a time. Eventually, though, it became a burden for them to even contain the demon. They locked themselves away in their libraries for the most part, while others of their own withered away. Eldre’thalas was overcome with spirits. Food was in short supply. The highborn were desperate.
   But despite their desperation, the night elves were none too excited to help. It was an uphill struggle, of course. The night elves had cast aside arcane magic at the behest of Malfurion Stormrage, the druid who had led them to salvation from the collapsing Well. To ask of the night elves to accept into society those who had basically spat in the shan’do’s face was… Well, it was rather difficult.
Sintas rested back on the pillows of her bed, sighing. Malfurion. If only he were here instead of serving the green dragonflight in the Emerald Dream. Though that was important. And wonderous, too, of course. But no one had heard any word from him for some time. And the nightmare…
   She shook her head. No, if anyone could have an impact on it, it was him. But still.
   Sintas, you distract yourself. She nodded. Back to what you were doing. You don’t want to end up embarrassing yourself. That was the last thing she would allow, to be improperly prepared. It was obvious, of course, she was to be watched carefully during the meeting. She picked up one of her notebooks, turning to an empty page in the back and picking up a pen. A checklist would be a good idea…

1.) Ask about Millicent Serene’s notes.
2.) Request a free inspection of Eldre’thalas.
3.)

   Sintas tapped her pen on the third blank, frowning. What else?

3.) Support in Ashenvale.

   Broll would appreciate that.

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   The emissary from Nighthaven was back again today, as usual. And this day, Fandral paid even less attention to his words. It didn’t matter, not now.
   Sintas. And Broll?
   Fandral sighed. I suppose I should have expected it. But how could he have expected such… such… betrayal? He knew he had never been much more to Sintas than her superior, but it was betrayal. He had told her what she was to him. And she had refused him. After all he had done for her! She was ungrateful. He never expected her to show him such insolence, but she had done just that. Insolence. He was sick of it.
   He wondered what she was doing. What she was thinking. Probably nothing concerning him, of course. Probably…
   An image flickered through his mind. His face set into an enraged scowl…
   The emissary shrank back slightly. “…Ah. Archdruid, my apologies.”
   Fandral waved his hand, snorting. “Bah. Continue, my mind was elsewhere. Repeat what you were saying.”
   The emissary backtracked on his list, nodding. Fandral, however, could care less. His gaze flickered to his door. The glass was shadowed by someone. He had no appointments after the emissary… Oh, goodie, I get to play the guessing game, he thought with a smirk. Who will it be? Will I enjoy their company? Of course not. Feh, it’s always a waste of time.
   The emissary stood up, bowing slightly to Fandral. “Thank you for your time, Archdruid. I trust you will take these requests into your consideration.”
   Fandral nodded. “Of course. Let my next guest in.” He watched the door, interested for once to see who came through.
   Broll stepped in. Fandral sprang from his seat, growling. Broll’s expression switched quickly from casual greeting to startled surprise.
   “Er… Fandral?”
   “This had better be a valuable use of my time, Broll, for I am none too pleased with your arrogant presence!”
   Broll blinked a few times. “…I assure you, it is.” He shook off his initial surprise. “It concerns Sintas. She fell ill today, and will not be at the meeting. She has asked me to request going in her stead.”
   “She would, wouldn’t she?” Fandral snapped. As Broll raised a brow, Fandral growled. “You believe me to be unaware? Hardly. I know very well about you two.”
   Broll raised his hands. “Wait, what do you mean?”
   Fandral’s golden eyes flared brighter. “I saw you two. You had been spying on us, hadn’t you? Waiting for your opportunity to descend and take her back!” He threw a swipe of his hand, crackling with energy, at Broll. Broll stepped back quickly, avoiding it.
   “Fandral, you misunderstand—“
   “I UNDERSTAND COMPLETELY!” Fandral loosed the energy at Broll, missing him barely. The energy flew out the open door, dissipating into the air. Broll stared at him. This wasn’t what he had come for. A fight with the Archdruid? The angry Archdruid? No.
   “Fandral. Just stop for a moment, let me explain.”
   Fandral growled, seething.
   “I don’t know what it is you think is going on, but really! I’m not interested in her, honestly!” Broll felt as though he were staring down an angry bear… And not a bear he could communicate sense or calm into. Though he could turn into one, of course… “Look, I did convince her to let me go in her stead, but not for such a reason! I’m trying to protect her!”
   “Protect her? Bah, from what?!”
   Broll growled. “From you, of course! She told me what happened, Fandral. You embarrassed her. If she agrees with any point you make at that meeting, she’ll be seen as simply favoring you because of those damn rumors!”
   Fandral glared. “And what do you get out of this?”
   “I gain the satisfaction of helping a fellow druid from a difficult situation.”

   Sintas jumped, startled by the roar that sliced through the air. She looked around quickly, springing off her bed and onto the floor. Her feet landed on papers, the rest of her following in the fall as the papers slipped across the floor. She let out a yelp, landing on her backside. For a moment, she simply laid there, frowning to herself. Terribly skittish. Ugh. She brushed aside the papers with her feet, standing up on the cleared area of floor. That roar… It had sounded from the enclave… She frowned. Should I even bother? Shaking her head, she sighed. If the Archdruid happened to be in some sort of danger, she wouldn’t forgive herself for failing to at least see what happened. She slipped on her sandals, looking down at herself. Still in her nightgown, having had no reason to leave her house this day. But wasn’t—
   Broll. Wasn’t he supposed to meet with Fandral today?
   Oh dear.
   She grabbed a slip-on dress, secured a belt around her waist, and leapt onto the railing around her house, transforming into the storm crow.

   This is bad, Broll thought. He ducked another swipe at his head. I just had to think about it. And now it’s happened. He really is an angry bear. The huge, dark green bear roared, standing on his hind legs to bring a paw down on Broll’s head. Broll shifted to the form of a cat, narrowly dodging what would have been a crushing blow to his skull. He tried leaping for the open door, nearly reaching it before a paw the size and weight of a mace swung out and caught him in the face. Broll tried shaking it off, but the blow had been too hard. His nose was broken, at best. I can’t keep this up… Damnit, Fandral, get a hold of yourself! He still couldn’t fathom why Fandral was so angry. Sintas had turned him down. What did Broll have to do with it? Unless…
   The bear’s head slammed into Broll’s side, interrupting his train of thought. This wasn’t about to end easily. Broll was known for his prowess in feral combat, but this was too much. He might as well have been back in the arena, tossed around by an ogre. But at least in the arena, there was the reasonability of fighting back. Directly attacking the Archdruid would not be advisable, to say the least. Think, Broll… Think! His rage is comparable to yours at this point!
   The chamber’s floor came to life, sprouting branches and trunks that encased the raging bear. The bear tried smacking them aside, then looked to the door. There stood Sintas, eyes set on Fandral with a look of utmost pity. Fandral watched her, his lip curled back, quivering. A low, dangerous growl still escaped his throat. Sintas stepped quietly to the cage of branches, reaching a hand out to him. Powerful jaws locked down on her hand, crunching bones and tearing ligaments. Sintas closed her eyes, wincing.
   Broll watched. His nose sent him waves of pain, but his eyes were wide. She’s absolutely crazy. She should know better than to get so close to him when he’s this angry! He started to leap towards her as she lowered her head to Fandral’s. “SINTAS, STOP!”
   Fandral made no move to attack her head, however. Sintas set her free hand on his head, stroking his fur gently. “Fandral,” she whispered, “let your spirit be calm… Let your mind be at ease, dear friend.”
   The bear remained still for a long moment, eventually releasing his vice grip on her hand. She flexed her hand, letting out a pained grunt. The hand became enveloped in green light, sealing shut the horrid bite wounds and returning the lost blood, still clinging hopefully to her skin, to her flesh.
   Broll landed short of the two, watching in amazement as the grievous wound faded into nothingness, as though it had never even happened. I had heard she was a powerful healer, but… A wound that fresh, and that mangled… Her hand looks fine… Surely the bones haven’t been repaired as well, have they?
   Sintas opened her eyes, looking at Fandral. His bear form was large, larger than even a tauren’s transformation. He stood on all fours, and yet was still nearly at eye level with her.

   The taste of hot iron still flooded Fandral’s mouth. Why had he done that… He was angry at Broll, not her… Wasn’t he? He sensed some sort of spell had been cast on him, calming his rage, but it hardly mattered. She was here, stroking his fur, accompanying him. With him yet again. He closed his eyes. He felt her breath against his ear, listened to her whisper a quiet plea. He nodded, letting out a sigh.
   Sintas stepped over to Broll, kneeling down and setting her hand on his nose. A green glow called the bone back into its proper place, mending the cracks and bleeding within. She gave him a light scratch behind his ears, turning back to the cage of branches. A wave of her hand signaled the branches to recede, withdrawing back into the floor. Fandral shook himself off, shifting out of the bear’s shape and into that of the storm crow. Sintas looked to Broll.
   “I’ll attend the meeting tomorrow. Place my notes back in my house, if you please.”
With that, she stepped out the door, becoming feathered and winged as well, lifting off of the walkway. Fandral followed suit, up into the air to circle once before setting off for the east.

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   Sintas landed between two small trees, shifting out of the storm crow’s shape. Fandral soon after landed as well, shifting back to his elven form. He cast a questioning glance at Sintas. “Why are we here?”
   She pointed to a deer trail following up a hill between the trees. “This. You’ve been away for a long time, Fandral.” She started up the trail, pausing to look back. Fandral stood there, frowning.
   “I’ve kept up with my duties… What do you mean?”
   Sintas smiled. “Come on. It’s a good spot, anyways.”
   He sighed, placing one foot in front of the other at a slow pace. What does she want me to do? He frowned as soon as she turned away, continuing up the trail. She has explaining to do. That’s all I want. The two druids climbed the steep trail, brushing aside overgrowth. Fandral growled, losing his grip on a branch too soon to avoid a smack from the branch to the back of his head. He paused a moment, then lifted a hand up swiftly. The branches promptly raised themselves from his way, accepting his request. As he passed, they slowly lowered back to their original positions, obviously displeased with his command. Bah. Hurry it up, Sintas.
   Sintas looked back. “Impatient?” She smiled a bit, turning back to her destination at the top of the hill.
   Fandral sighed. “I want an explanation. Soon, if it’s not too much of a bother for you.”
   She smiled. “You’ll get an explanation. I promise. Just come on.” Sintas stepped carefully, trying to stay on the overgrown roots to avoid stepping on the smaller, more fragile foliage of the path.
   Fandral glanced down to her curious steps, taking a moment to question the movements. Her feet were bare, and the roots couldn’t have been comfortable to walk on. He glanced over his shoulder. Dotted along the path were snapped stems and crushed leaves, following his footfalls. Then he remembered. The paths of Darnassus had grown on him. They were smooth, well-kept, and only slightly overgrown with mosses and vines. There was little enough fragile vegetation that he needn’t worry about his steps, but continue on his way. But here, in the wilds of Teldrassil, the tree he himself had led to the planting and careful nurture of, he had forgotten to watch what—and who—he tread upon. He looked to the path ahead, stepping on the roots as Sintas did.
   Fandral enjoyed the outdoors, of course. Any druid did, any night elf, for that matter. The typical night elven house was open-air on at least one side, letting moonlight and fresh air in. His chamber, of course, was closed in for a reason: privacy during discussion. It granted privacy. It also gave him a place to be where others could easily find him when needed. But… It took a great deal away, as well. Druids were accustomed to wandering. Boxing one into a room did provide accessibility to others, but he was caged. This freedom he now felt had not been known for some time. After his duties had been performed for the day, requests had been heard, guests had been spoken to, and rituals had been performed, he was always so weary. So, to bed he went. Day after day. Teldrassil was no small responsibility, and though he knew it was largely his responsibility, well… He did not want to be the Archdruid anymore. A druid, yes. A thousand times yes. But not the Archdruid.
   The roots beneath his feet were not all that uncomfortable. Moss growing on the rough exteriors of them provided ample cushioning, and unlike the delicate undergrowth below the roots, the moss sprang back into place after being trodden upon. He smiled to himself. Darnassus was a wondrous blend of the organic and the artificial, blurring the line between the two gracefully, but even the night elves’ organic living style could not compare to nature’s grace. He looked up, up to the tree canopy above. Trees within a tree, their branches interweaving and blending together into one fluttering mass of leaves and quivering branches. It was so beautiful.
   What had he been angry for?