Torn Down

[ImagenAshyun]

Spoiler:

              This must be the last one.

              I'm seeking a blacksmith that specializes in Kaldorei weaponry.

              I'm hoping to buy at least two swords, though I'm actually thinking of a total of four: one pair of training swords and one pair of heavy-duty battle appropriate swords. For the proper swords, I'd also like to have slots in them for enchanted gems that protect the user. Gems don't have to be provided by the blacksmith him or herself, since I got someone who can provide the gems for me.

              I don't have much money, but I do have a steady income, and I'm working on starting my own business. I'm willing to negotiate a payment plan on a weekly or monthly basis.

              Thanks for your time.


              --Kantado Starseer

              No one ever wrote back. Not that Kantado made any efforts to find one. Blacksmiths were a dime a dozen, but almost all the ones he met would specialize in human or dwarven smithing. Kantado wanted specifically night elven smithing. He could have found one. He could have just gotten back to Darnassus or at least Ashenvale or Winterspring to find kaldorei training swords for Isolia.


              Could have, would have, should have. It's too late now.


              Neither he nor his father knew if she was getting better. The time it took to cleanse her of fel taint took too long. By the time cleansing took place, her muscles have weakened. She couldn't fight anymore. Kantado felt bad for neglecting his girlfriend in the first place; he felt as though if he stayed by her more often, the taint wouldn't occur in the first place. So he tried making her feel better with what little power and time he had. The swords were the least he could do.

              Then, the announcement--Kapre would start dividing up the business. An opportunity for art, music, and entertainment. The offer was made to the young elf despite his repeated history for slacking. This, however, is aimed closer for what he loved--music. Now Kantado has no excuse for slacking--all he had to do is write music and find others to perform with him. Alongside finding swords and tending to Isolia, he would finally do more than just play the lute for a couple coin. Now he can legitimately spread his love of artful sound by making this part of the business his own domain.

              He went straight to work. Song after song, though it's not enough. There is a special one he decided to make for Isolia, inspired by Kapre when he decided on having one for Celes. That one is dropped, though--a better love was found for the broken-hearted draenei. Kantado watched his boss fall for the sin'dorei Xanthe, whom he called his "smiling jewel". The song no longer applied to her. So Kantado, with Kapre's blessings, took the song.

I am never going to leave your side...

              He burst into the room, ready to try the song out. It was translated into Darnassian, fit for night elven ears. He came up with the tune. He even rehearsed. Isolia was to listen to the song, and perhaps, this would lift her spirits. At last, Kantado could be more than an immature boy toy for the strong, angry, and audacious Isolia. He had a song for her, one that could make her smile.

              She is on the floor. The blanket had fallen off. There is a sickly pool gathered at her mouth, with foam on her lips. Her arms were twisted in a crooked manner. Hair covered her face. There was no air, there was no life.











              He hasn't broken the news to anyone yet. Not his boss, not his co-workers, not even his father and brother. Days passed. Weeks. According to the goblin medic in Gadgetzan, where Isolia was taken to recover, she died from choking on her own vomit from a seizure. Kantado isn't sure if this was because of complications from the fel taint, and neither was the medic. She was given a proper burial there. Kantado never got to know Isolia well enough to know any of her family or other friends. Actually, there was not much Kantado did for her.

              He recalled the memories... their first meeting. It was Booty Bay; she showed to have domineering tendencies, at one point forcing him to strip naked and walk around in a leash. She joined the business so she could probably learn working to find love for others and herself. She liked to read. Kantado learned of her feelings for him through Jof'waz, and it was there, a match was made. They were going to make a necklace together, but a bear whose teeth they were going to use didn't like that idea. She was hasty, she was brash. Crazy, perhaps. Kantado wasn't sure this match was a good idea, but he went with it. She scared him, but he grew to like her company. He thought, perhaps, they could have a chance.... if they got together more often.

              Their meetings were sparse, but months are but mere minutes to a kaldorei. Elves have gone far longer without meeting each other--even his own parents hardly met. They had thousands of years ahead of them. What could go wrong?

              I'm seeking a blacksmith that specializes in Kaldorei weaponry.

              I'm hoping to buy at least two swords, though I'm actually thinking of a total of four: one pair of training swords and one pair of heavy-duty battle appropriate swords. For the proper swords, I'd also like to have slots in them for enchanted gems that protect the user. Gems don't have to be provided by the blacksmith him or herself, since I got someone who can provide the gems for me.

              I don't have much money, but I do have a steady income, and I'm working on starting my own business. I'm willing to negotiate a payment plan on a weekly or monthly basis.

              Thanks for your time.


              --Kantado Starseer

              That was the last one. It was here in Gadgetzan. The others were not just removed, but also torn into shreds. The thoughts of Isolia possibly dying due to neglect was too overwhelming. This place makes him sick now. He grips the ad, crumpled in his shaking hands. He still hasn't told the Exchange or his family. His fingers come together, bunched onto the edges of the poster as he prepared to tear it up.

Rip. Rip. Rip.

              That was the last. He threw the pieces into the trash, ready to move out. As he stepped outside, the desert air darkened as billowy clouds of rain were moving forward. Rain in the desert is a blessed thing, and druids would appreciate them for the life they bring with their gentle drops. Not Kantado. The winds were harsh and dry, his lips and face chapping from the arid air. He covered his neck and arms with his robe as he leaned down to pick up his lute. This storm couldn't have gone at a worse time. The clouds were black, and they rolled ominously as a boom emitted from its heavy layers. Kantado had no time to linger; he didn't want to stay in Gadgetzan any longer. The smell of machinery oil, sand, and goblin sweat were making him sick. He could still smell the vomit. He could still see the twisted arm and hair fallen over her face.



              A stop. There are rocks nearby that could provide him temporary shelter as the slender night elf walked away from the goblin town. He sat there for a while; though they failed to shield him from the rain, they are a comfort against the winds. Kantado closed his eyes and listened to the winds and rains like he would for anything of nature. He tried to hear a song. A voice. A tune. Nature was music to him; it was his inspiration, his own personal muse. The wind was his song, the rain his muse. The droplets fell on his face. The sky is crying. And so was he.


              Kantado does not like this song. He tried to get his mind off of Isolia, but he couldn't. Not with the storm lingering over his head. Not with the constant reminder of neglect and mortality haunting him forever. He shut his eyes and stood up, bowing his head to resist the rain. He gripped his long, floppy ears and pulled them down, even to the point of reddening pain. He did not open his eyes. He will not stop until he's away from this place, desert storm be damned.

              Except he did. He turns around, seeing his lute leaning against the rocks. Rain fell on the instrument he made out of Ashenvale hardwood. The finish was shimmering as it was soaking. It reminded him of one pleasant memory of Isolia--when he was sitting by the river not far from Astranaar. She heard him play. She liked it for what it was.


              That was then... but this is now. Kantado turned around and never looked back, leaving the lute behind in the rain. He wants nothing to do with music now.

Spoiler:

((R.I.P. Isolia. Thank you for the memories, Psycho!)