The cold air of Dalaran didn’t bother Ashyr. Exposed skin of her arms and torso gave her no discomfort. She barely felt anything--not the stone wall behind her, cool as she knew it was, and not the sweat in her palms. The streets had quieted down long ago, but even before, the sound on her ears had gone largely ignored. She could hardly bring herself to open her eyes.
The open street would not have served as the first choice for most people attempting to seek solitude, but Ashyr found a comforting dissonance in it. Nestled in her corner against the wall, no one noticed her, and so she was alone, but at once, there were people all around her. She never thought of it as strange, especially not then. She hardly thought about anything at all then but one solitary, circular path in her mind.
Saanto was dead.
Ashyr couldn’t accept that Saanto would have let her guard down enough to let herself be killed. Why hadn’t she fled? Why hadn’t she teleported away, if she knew she might be weak and susceptible? She did it enough just to get around. Ashyr had seen her pop out and come back barely minutes later, with that smile of hers still gently clinging to her lips. She could have left, easily. She could have been safe. Ashyr could have seen her again, but this vague figure in her mind had broken Saanto.
Therai Nightglade. It was a strange name, but it sounded elven to Ashyr. Even so, she couldn’t put a picture to it, only a figure shrouded in shadows. Why had she attacked Saanto? There was no reason. Saanto’s friends had no answer to that. All they wanted was justice. The lapse in logic brought pause to Ashyr time and time again, because why would anyone attack Saanto? There was no reason. Saanto was the kindest person she had ever met.
Regardless of reasoning, Therai was going to be brought to justice, whatever that meant. The thought brought out conflict in Ashyr all over again. She was upset, she was frustrated. Therai had taken her most important person away from her, but...she couldn’t find it in her to feel rage, nor vengeance. There was no fire. People were calling for Therai’s death, and all Ashyr could think was that she didn’t want there to be any more death. It hardly mattered whose, anymore...she just wanted everyone to forget.
How long had Saanto been dead? Ashyr hadn’t seen her in years before she finally learned. Had she been dead all that time, or had there been some sort of gap in it where she was simply hidden?
Ashyr drove that thought to the back of her mind, and somewhere in her consciousness, she felt the loose, smooth fabric of her skirt against her face. Saanto was dead.
A deep voice disturbed her from her introspection. “Well met, Ashyr.” Mention of her name jolted her back into reality, and she sprang upright, sitting up against the stone wall in her corner on the side of the street. It was one of Saanto’s friends. Ashyr had forgotten his name...or had he even given it to begin with?
“Hello, lord,” she mumbled as she looked up at the draenei. She focused her gaze on his collar, her reflex when speaking to anyone. Even if she wasn’t looking directly at his face, she found it simple enough to pay attention to expressions from that view. The draenei man furrowed his brow, quiet for a moment. He had given his name, she remembered now, but she hadn’t caught it...or, had she?
"I am glad I found you here. I have a question...it is related to Saanto." He had mentioned that Ashyr could come to him if she needed support, but the thought of it turned her stomach. If she could just stay strong, then, maybe…
“Yes, lord?” she found herself saying, unfocused and distant. Even Saanto’s name barely brought her attention.
“Would you like to come with me to Shattrath City, to visit Saanto at her grave and pay your respects?”
She noticed the goosebumps on her skin suddenly, popping out in her senses. Reality seemed even more real now than usual. “Mistress Saanto has a grave…?”
The draenei nodded. Maybe she could just remember what his name began with...a V? “After we found her, we attempted to perform rites of resurrection. She would not return for us, so we laid her to rest.”
Hope and despair rose in Ashyr’s chest almost instantly, one after the other. She hadn’t conceived that resurrection was even an option, but he made it sound like it was already a lost cause. She hugged her knees close to her chest and hid a shiver, looking away from the draenei. “Why would she not come back, lord?”
He didn’t speak for an agonizing moment, then she heard him sigh. “The priests said she lived a long, full life, and is at peace.
“She no longer wishes to be disturbed.”
It dug into her chest like a dagger. She buried her face in her knees, and dragged her fingernails through her hair and over her scalp, though her gloves prevented any pain. She needed a distraction, anything, just…
“She is buried outside of the City of Light. I am going to the city now, and I will bring you with me, if that is what you want.” His words severed her thoughts again.
“I do not understand why she would not come back, lord…” Why?
“When we had her body, she had the choice between coming back to us and going to the Light. It is difficult to blame her for choosing the Naaru over us.”
“You...you must have done something wrong, lord…” She carried herself to her feet, bracing against the wall behind her for support. She didn’t feel comfortable standing unaided. Her gaze remained on the cobblestones before her. She couldn’t bear to look at him. "She would not...she wouldn't..."
“Nothing was wrong.” Every word constricted Ashyr’s chest. “The priests have been helping souls find rest for thousands of years. Saanto is unfortunately...no different.”
“They...did not try hard enough, lord.” She felt herself shaking, then heard him take a breath.
“You doubt our efforts? We did everything possible to bring Saanto back. In the end, we could only save her soul.”
“You MUST not have done everything, lord!” she pleaded, stepping forward, close to him. She looked up to his chest, at that intricate robe of his. Why did he keep saying these things? “She wouldn't leave, lord! I know she wouldn't!”
“I am sorry, but that is the way it is. There is no use for regret now, we must simply honor her memory and find justice for her murder.”
Justice, again. That word stung Ashyr. Could he truly back down so swiftly? He claimed Saanto had been one of his close friends, but he had already given up on her. He had failed. He was a coward. He was weak. She tightened her fingers, balling them into fists, too familiar. She knew the techniques. She knew where to strike. She looked up to his face, and his eyes.
It would take only a moment. It would be…so easy.
Panic gripped her, and she gasped. Her hands loosened, and she replaced them on her arms, clinging to herself. Don’t look at him, don’t let him see. “Forgive me, lord,” she whispered.
She heard him let out a sigh. “There is nothing to forgive. Though it is Saanto's choice, and we must respect it, I too was not happy with the decision.”
She nodded slowly to his words. The rush was dying down. “I…” She swallowed silently. “I do want to see her grave, lord…”
“This way, then.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him move, and she followed after him.
The open street would not have served as the first choice for most people attempting to seek solitude, but Ashyr found a comforting dissonance in it. Nestled in her corner against the wall, no one noticed her, and so she was alone, but at once, there were people all around her. She never thought of it as strange, especially not then. She hardly thought about anything at all then but one solitary, circular path in her mind.
Saanto was dead.
Ashyr couldn’t accept that Saanto would have let her guard down enough to let herself be killed. Why hadn’t she fled? Why hadn’t she teleported away, if she knew she might be weak and susceptible? She did it enough just to get around. Ashyr had seen her pop out and come back barely minutes later, with that smile of hers still gently clinging to her lips. She could have left, easily. She could have been safe. Ashyr could have seen her again, but this vague figure in her mind had broken Saanto.
Therai Nightglade. It was a strange name, but it sounded elven to Ashyr. Even so, she couldn’t put a picture to it, only a figure shrouded in shadows. Why had she attacked Saanto? There was no reason. Saanto’s friends had no answer to that. All they wanted was justice. The lapse in logic brought pause to Ashyr time and time again, because why would anyone attack Saanto? There was no reason. Saanto was the kindest person she had ever met.
Regardless of reasoning, Therai was going to be brought to justice, whatever that meant. The thought brought out conflict in Ashyr all over again. She was upset, she was frustrated. Therai had taken her most important person away from her, but...she couldn’t find it in her to feel rage, nor vengeance. There was no fire. People were calling for Therai’s death, and all Ashyr could think was that she didn’t want there to be any more death. It hardly mattered whose, anymore...she just wanted everyone to forget.
How long had Saanto been dead? Ashyr hadn’t seen her in years before she finally learned. Had she been dead all that time, or had there been some sort of gap in it where she was simply hidden?
Ashyr drove that thought to the back of her mind, and somewhere in her consciousness, she felt the loose, smooth fabric of her skirt against her face. Saanto was dead.
A deep voice disturbed her from her introspection. “Well met, Ashyr.” Mention of her name jolted her back into reality, and she sprang upright, sitting up against the stone wall in her corner on the side of the street. It was one of Saanto’s friends. Ashyr had forgotten his name...or had he even given it to begin with?
“Hello, lord,” she mumbled as she looked up at the draenei. She focused her gaze on his collar, her reflex when speaking to anyone. Even if she wasn’t looking directly at his face, she found it simple enough to pay attention to expressions from that view. The draenei man furrowed his brow, quiet for a moment. He had given his name, she remembered now, but she hadn’t caught it...or, had she?
"I am glad I found you here. I have a question...it is related to Saanto." He had mentioned that Ashyr could come to him if she needed support, but the thought of it turned her stomach. If she could just stay strong, then, maybe…
“Yes, lord?” she found herself saying, unfocused and distant. Even Saanto’s name barely brought her attention.
“Would you like to come with me to Shattrath City, to visit Saanto at her grave and pay your respects?”
She noticed the goosebumps on her skin suddenly, popping out in her senses. Reality seemed even more real now than usual. “Mistress Saanto has a grave…?”
The draenei nodded. Maybe she could just remember what his name began with...a V? “After we found her, we attempted to perform rites of resurrection. She would not return for us, so we laid her to rest.”
Hope and despair rose in Ashyr’s chest almost instantly, one after the other. She hadn’t conceived that resurrection was even an option, but he made it sound like it was already a lost cause. She hugged her knees close to her chest and hid a shiver, looking away from the draenei. “Why would she not come back, lord?”
He didn’t speak for an agonizing moment, then she heard him sigh. “The priests said she lived a long, full life, and is at peace.
“She no longer wishes to be disturbed.”
It dug into her chest like a dagger. She buried her face in her knees, and dragged her fingernails through her hair and over her scalp, though her gloves prevented any pain. She needed a distraction, anything, just…
“She is buried outside of the City of Light. I am going to the city now, and I will bring you with me, if that is what you want.” His words severed her thoughts again.
“I do not understand why she would not come back, lord…” Why?
“When we had her body, she had the choice between coming back to us and going to the Light. It is difficult to blame her for choosing the Naaru over us.”
“You...you must have done something wrong, lord…” She carried herself to her feet, bracing against the wall behind her for support. She didn’t feel comfortable standing unaided. Her gaze remained on the cobblestones before her. She couldn’t bear to look at him. "She would not...she wouldn't..."
“Nothing was wrong.” Every word constricted Ashyr’s chest. “The priests have been helping souls find rest for thousands of years. Saanto is unfortunately...no different.”
“They...did not try hard enough, lord.” She felt herself shaking, then heard him take a breath.
“You doubt our efforts? We did everything possible to bring Saanto back. In the end, we could only save her soul.”
“You MUST not have done everything, lord!” she pleaded, stepping forward, close to him. She looked up to his chest, at that intricate robe of his. Why did he keep saying these things? “She wouldn't leave, lord! I know she wouldn't!”
“I am sorry, but that is the way it is. There is no use for regret now, we must simply honor her memory and find justice for her murder.”
Justice, again. That word stung Ashyr. Could he truly back down so swiftly? He claimed Saanto had been one of his close friends, but he had already given up on her. He had failed. He was a coward. He was weak. She tightened her fingers, balling them into fists, too familiar. She knew the techniques. She knew where to strike. She looked up to his face, and his eyes.
It would take only a moment. It would be…so easy.
Panic gripped her, and she gasped. Her hands loosened, and she replaced them on her arms, clinging to herself. Don’t look at him, don’t let him see. “Forgive me, lord,” she whispered.
She heard him let out a sigh. “There is nothing to forgive. Though it is Saanto's choice, and we must respect it, I too was not happy with the decision.”
She nodded slowly to his words. The rush was dying down. “I…” She swallowed silently. “I do want to see her grave, lord…”
“This way, then.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him move, and she followed after him.