"Santy! Pway!"
For the twentieth time that hour, Xanthe chased the little draenei toddler along the rocky platform in the Lower City of Shattrath. Ekki, the peculiar pink elekk she had won at auction for Kapre, thudded behind them in heavy beats and the occasional horn-blast of his little trunk. "Oh no! The monster is going to get you, Aria, run, run!" The little girl squealed with delight and thrashed her hooves and arms as Xanthe caught her, snuggling her close as she rolled onto her back and tickled Aria. It was Xanthe's favorite game, and one that Aria herself was starting to play -- even going so far as to hide under a blanket and become a tickling 'ghost'.
"Eeee, monsaa!" Even when Xanthe had let go of the toddler, Aria continued to sit on her stomach and poke at the elf. "Santy, pway!"
"Yes, okay, I'll play in a moment, I must catch my breath!" At the 'stern' face of the child, Xanthe stood up and allowed the toddler to start running. "Oh! You are so fast!"
"I so fast!"
She was granted a short reprieve as Aria caught sight of Diwaata and Melodia, the toddler promptly rousing the latter from a nap to play with the elekk. The baker, Andra, joined them shortly but… something was wrong. The matron looked ill, pale, and distraught. Someone was hurt at her home and they had to see.
Andra neglected to mention who it was that was hurt.
Diwaata moved first – she set down the girls and ran to Kapre’s side.
Why is he lying like that? He slept on his side, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other usually at his side to hold Aria. He rarely lay on his back as he did now—She stopped, her eyes drawn to the cruel angle of his neck.
No. The air left her lungs as a vice clenched around her chest; she hugged her waist with one arm as her other hand raised to her mouth.
No.
She didn’t hear Andra, the girls, Orvisha or Diwaata as she fell into a sit at his side. Her hand hesitated for a moment before taking his cold hand in hers.
What is dead must be dead—but, please, not Kapre. Never Kapre. Her eyes watered as she managed a weak, “Fix him!” Diwaata was trying.
“Just sleeping... yes... he can wake up... he can. He's able to. He's a Spirit Walker. All he needs is his ankh...”
“Don’t bother, sister...”
“If we have the right connections with the Spirits, they can guide us back after death. But we need that anchor... the ankh.”
“He is not lost in the realm of spirits... He is dead... A murder.”
“…you lie.” Diwaata ceased her frantic searching for the necklace as she looked up at Andra. Xanthe pressed Kapre’s hand against her cheek as Diwaata and Orvisha drew the information from the baker.
"Does everyone wander aimlessly -- hurt and alone -- when they die?" She had been crying again, curled up in a blanket cocoon in Kapre’s arms. A night terror of Northwind.
"Not... not everyone. Some... find rest. But not all."
“I should think I would know if I were dead... but what if you are dead?”
"I do not believe you are dead." He held her hand tenderly before placing a finger on her wrist. "A pulse." He lifted a finger close to her mouth. "A breath." He squeezed her hand. "Warmth. Blood runs through your veins. And you live. You care. You are alive."
Her chest constricted again as she pressed her cheek tighter against his cold palm: No pulse, no breath, no warmth. Was he hurt? Alone? Was he scared? Who is there to help a spirit walker who is now a spirit himself? The first time she had seen him Walking, he was stomping around the ship and calling for war upon the orcs. She yelled the only Draenic word she knew (“Hi!”) but when that was not enough, Mahen’tosh had given her a new phrase to bring Kapre back in control of his body.
“
Come back to me.” Her voice broke as she shifted to Common, “Please.”
"Spirits, please let me contact my brother..." Diwaata was crying now, her attempts failing over and over again. She hung her head, "I can't do it... wait! Cristovao. Cristovao can resurrect!”
What if Kapre wasn’t wandering? What if he was at rest?
Orvisha and Diwaata withdrew from the baker’s home and bits of their conversation drifted in as Xanthe curled up beside Kapre. She pressed her ear to his chest and closed her eyes as she listened closely.
“Be at ease, my friend. But if the dreams continue to haunt you, please allow me to provide you the strength you need. I will you help with every ounce of my being if it drives away your hauntings.” He embraced her close, blanket and all, and rested a hand atop her head.
“That is a lot of ounces.” His chest rumbled with his laughter and it sounded warm as she pressed her cheek against his chest. It was safe, here. She took one of his tendrils gently between two fingers and peered at it, “This is a good blue.”
He curled the tendril around her finger, "'Good blue'? Good how?"
“It is a lovely color. It is your unique color of blue.”
“Surely I’m not that unique.”
"Yes you are -- there is only one Kapre. And I have never seen your shade of blue."
"...I- thank you. That rather makes me feel... special."
"Yes, you are very special. Do not forget it!"
It was a bad silence. She opened her eyes and lifted her head to look up at his face before pressing her fingertips lightly against his tendrils as she whispered, "I told you this was a good blue, Kapre." She took a slow, ragged breath to steady herself as she continued faintly, "but I did not tell you it was my favorite blue."
Diwaata stared at Xanthe before Andra offered softly, "I told him... Life is fleeting... there were words he should have spoken..." She nods a second time. "...But he will be able to say them once more."
"...what do you mean?"
"They are his words to speak, Diwaata, not mine."
"I have to get Cristovao." She stood, taking another look at Kapre, before she addressed the baker, "I'll be back for my brother."
"He will be here."
Come back to me.
![[Image: kapres2.gif]](http://imageshack.us/a/img842/5111/kapres2.gif)
![[Image: kapres.png]](http://imageshack.us/a/img811/8742/kapres.png)