"Shaileia, seal the entrances off," Nara murmured, "Use the roots like I taught you, only a druid could possibly dismantle them." Her bare feet sunk into the deep, cool grass, the deep purple robe she wore elegantly behind her. The Night Elf's pace was quick, keeping up with the unconscious bear ahead of her. Efficiently she gave orders to her escort, not knowing, without looking back that they had each scurried off to do her bidding. "Maldryn, bring the blankets from the guest quarters and don't forget the sheets. Sylista, I need you to prepare the leaving herbs - just in case." By now the procession had reached their experimental Moonwell and the wounded druid was laid carefully on her side in the soft grass. With a sigh, Nara looked up, the bright blue sky - so perfect - seeming at odds with the horrors being conducted inside the walls of her adopted city. With a silent prayer to Elune, she nodded gravely to the bear's companion, who had settled down at the bear's side.
She sat gracefully on a stone bench next to the pair, her robes artfully arranging themselves about her slender form. Nara wanted to comfort the poor Tauren, to let him know she give them the best care she had, to make them feel welcome in the home of their supposed enemy. Their words didn't match, however. The Tauren was engrossed in easing the sleeping bear's pain - stroking her fur, tilting her head so she received as much air as possible, scratching behind her ears and speaking to her softly in a language which seemed both exotic and ugly at the same time. Nara settled for gently resting her hand on his shoulder, her small, lavender-toned fingers looked almost wrong atop the rough fur. Their eyes met - blue to amber and she smiled sadly, trying to convey her sympathy. When the bear began coughing, a horrible, hoarse sound, she summoned her best healer, laden with bandages and an assistant with several clay jars along at his heels. The Tauren, seeing help on its way, bowed his head in thanks, reluctantly leaving the bear's side to give the Night Elves room to work.
Across the Park, a door slammed shut, rattling the panes of the windows upstairs. Nara's amber eyes - a symbol of her druidic calling - met with those of her lifelong friend Theridran, whose temper was legendary. As he stomped over to her bench, nearly pushing the healer's assistant into the water of the Moonwell, Nara stood. "This doesn't concern you Theridran," she whispered, not wanting to break the deep concentration of the healer.
"For Elune's sake Nara! What do you think you're doing?!" His shouting was immediately shushed by several Night Elves and a rather irate tired and worried Tauren.
"Come along Theridran. We need not disturb Shaymiir whilst he is working. Even from here I can see the poultice is very complicated, not to mention the practical difficulties of applying it to a being with fur." Without waiting for a response, she sauntered past the angry Night Elf, confidently leading him into her tailoring shop and dreading the conversation which would indefinitely follow.
It felt like hours later, but Nara suspected their argument had gone on for only a few minutes. She regretted losing her temper and the normally reserved calm Night Elf had, by now, retained her composure. “I don’t think you understand, m’lady, they are – they’re the enemy!” Theridran’s eyes flashed, Nara could tell he was still angry. After spending the past several decades with him, it was difficult not to notice the tip of his left ear twitching when he was distressed. He snorted, huffing and stomping around the small tailor’s storefront, ear twitching so much it almost looked painful. “Nara you cannot bring them in here! What will our liege think?” The pacing continued, the floor beneath his boots creaking with each step. His gestures were violent and he nearly snarled at the elf coolly sitting on a barrel of scraps, her elbows braced up against the wainscoting.
Even in light of her companion’s horrible temper, Nara Meideros was unmoved. Whilst Theridran varied from pouting to furious shouting, his normally purple skin tinged with unattractive spots of pink, Nara remained calm, sitting with her long legs crossed, relaxing against the wall. “It is not up for discussion Theridran,” she murmured, her amber eyes following the Tauren newcomer restlessly pace Her Park. As he began to protest, she waved her hand dismissively, “I’ve told you already – I have made the very same oath this one has. We are brethren.”
“But Nara! The war! What will the others think?”
Her eyes flashed, snapping to meet his. “And who leads these druids Theridran? We are not taking a part in this trivial war.” Theridran, seeing her jaw set in that stubborn way of hers, knew he was beat. With a sigh, he turns to leave the small shop to drown his sorrows bitterly in an equally bitter brew.
The movement caught the Tauren’s eye and he shaded his eyes against the afternoon sun to get a better look. Communication was difficult, but wanting the pair to feel welcomed and safe, Nara nodded at him and nearly giggled when he replied with a courtly bow. But giggling was beneath her. She was no longer a foolish apprentice, taunting Theridran with her superior abilities. Her Tauren friend had turned, attempting to soothe his own companion as she lay dying. Feeling nostalgic for simpler times, the leader of the Stormwind druids, Nara Meideros, slips off of the barrel and makes her way to her private rooms upstairs.
---
Iyotanka’s startling blue eyes searched for her, gracefully perched upon a barrel, half hidden in the shadows of a shop. He was disconcerted to find that he missed her quiet presence and even more frightened that he missed studying her soft beauty. This new specimen, so different from everything he knew, had invoked … well, he didn’t actually know what she had invoked. His scholarly mind searched for a description, an analysis, but for the first time in a long time, did not supply the answer. Instead, he found his mind’s eye exploring the gentle grace of her cheek, lost among the silken strands of blue-green hair and the arch of her bare foot, peeking out from under the long plum-coloured robe. He nearly jumped, blushing guiltily, when a shorter, darker male had tapped his arm.
His sister's healer was tiny in comparison to the twins and despite how young he looked, his eyes held lifetimes of wisdom. It would not be the first time Iyotanka longed for the lifespan of an elf. Iyo reached out for his sister, but was stopped by the healer, who shook his head. The Tauren nodded in response, supposing it wouldn't do for Leda to be disturbed and the bandages and goo they had smeared on her fur had eased her suffering a little. He would let her sleep in this rare moment of peace. The healer gestured toward the tailoring shop and mimicked eating before his frail fingers began pushing Iyo away.
The Night Elf woman was gone. Iyo had half-suspected she had only moved out of his line of sight, further into the room, but she was nowhere in sight when he entered the small (short-ceilinged) tailoring shop. He grimaced as he nearly bashed his forehead on a rafter and unabashedly began exploring the space. Primarily made of wood, it had the general feel of a Human building, but the touches of a druid were everywhere. Night elven lanterns hung in the corners, several wreaths of herbs were drying behind the counter and he spotted a triad of candles on a shelf. Not being hungry, Iyo ignored the plate of bread and instead reached over the counter to pick up a book. It was a knitting book. Which made sense, he supposed, but not being too interested in knitting and unable to fluently read Common, he was a tad disappointed. After peeking his head out of the doorway, finding himself a little disconcerted as the healer waved him away, Iyotanka (feeling much like a bull in a china shop, minus the china) sat down on the floor and began to muddle his way through the book.
After checking out the door at Leda several times and each time being stubbornly waved away by the old Elf, Iyo engrossed himself in the odious task of creating something. The yarn was easy enough to find, as had been the sticks which the book had shown. His fingers were much too big, not at all like the long, slender hands of the Night Elves and he had difficulty holding the small twigs without first breaking several pairs. After a few hours he finally got the hang of it, the book open in his lap and a lumpy strand of knitted blue yarn extending nearly halfway across the room. The Tauren smiled at his success, feeling quite proud of himself, despite the unevenness of the edges and the lumps and knots in several places, but to Iyo, it was the most beautiful scarf in the world.
He easily located a scrap of parchment in a trash bin and appropriated a bit of charcoal from the stove. His Common was stilted and had been gleaned from this one book and from overhearing Asterius. He laid the lumpy scarf on the counter, his note atop the blue yarn. When Nara returned several hours later, she would smile at the childish writing proclaiming "Beautiful neck-yarn for beautiful druidelf" Iyo, however, would never receive that smile, as when he next checked on his sister, the healer frowned and shook his head.
Leda was not doing well. She lay on her side, her back propped up a little to ease her breathing and Iyo was thankful she was still unconscious. Had she awoke, she would not have co-operated with any of the medical care she now received. Several Night Elves surrounded her where they had deposited her – in the middle of their domain, in front of what appeared to be a dormant Moonwell. She coughed, spurring Iyo into action. He calmly stroked her fur, pressing his forehead down to hers, attempting to lend his strength to hers as she had so often lent hers to him. Miraculously, the grass beneath her nose fluttered as she again drew breath.
Completely drained, Iyotanka accepted the help of her nurses to sit him down on a nearby bench. Iyo slumped, bent nearly double, elbows on his knees in a picture of defeat. He had failed her. Leda, his twin sister, his strength, his support, his companion… was dying.
--
From an upper window, sad amber eyes pitied the Tauren.
