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#13954406 Jan 29, 2019 at 04:56 PM
104 Posts
Denfehlath Zephyrwise has always been, if nothing else, impatient.

As a result, she paced the halls back and forth inside Ebonvale Manor, her eyes locked on the walls in either direction she strode. By now, she wasn’t sure if there had been a small path worn into the carpet, but she didn’t look to find out – after all, such a thing would be absolutely silly. She couldn’t have been here that long.

After being deathly ill for so long – something about a bit of shadow poisoning interacting with the gift of radiant light she had been given on the Broken Isles – she had slowly recovered and gotten back to a point where combat was an option. To be frank, it was not only an option, but a necessity.

“Inderith,” Fehl started, looking up at a servant in the hall. Inderith looked back calmly, the only indication that she had startled him with her sudden acknowledgment being a twitch of his right ear. “How long have I been here? Since I got sick?”

Inderith took a slow, deep breath as he thought, his eyes narrowing in calculation. “… I would say around a half-year’s time, my lady.” Denfehlath rubbed her face, letting out a huff of frustration. Half a year. Her children had grown so much in that time, she hadn’t been able to watch out for Anuari and Nyctoph when they left on their campaigns. Half a year. It stunned her, almost, to think that she could have died so easily after all she had suffered – just because of a bad poison. She looked down at herself, frowning as she saw where golden skin had turned pale once more, muscles slowly slimming from disuse. She had worked to regain them, yes, but Quel’thalas was no proper training ground. This would take time.

She looked up at Inderith, nodding. “Thank you.” She turned, beginning to pace again. Some time went by before she heard the doors to the main hall open, and her chin jerked towards the direction reflexively. After a moment, quiet, measured footsteps walked through the hall and approached her location. The door opened, and Exili Harrowlight stood before her, watching her cautiously.

“Denfehlath,” he began, his eyes scanning the hall. “Why is there a line worn into the carpet?” Denfehlath looked down, hissing a curse in Orcish under her breath. “Sorry, I’ve been -” She was cut off by the physician’s response. “Active?” he asked, one ear cocking in amusement. “I can tell. Come, sit.”

Denfehlath was impatient, yes, but never one to refuse to listen to a doctor giving orders. Unlike some people, she thought bitterly, she had a goal to improve. She sat, looking to Exili and folding her hands in her lap. He was silent for a long, pensive moment.

“Fehl,” he started, “I know you’re anxious to get back into combat. To go… running off to play warrior like you do. Don’t you think maybe you should be home for a bit longer, training again? Regaining your strength?”

The fire-headed elf gave a click of the tongue and a narrowed gaze as an initial answer. “Listen, Exili, I know you want me to be top-shape when I leave Quel’thalas again. But you gotta understand, the best training I’m going to get is out there. My family, they need me to be out there.”

Exili pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and pausing stock-still. He looked like a statue, like this, and his ability to do so unnerved the Valarjar slightly. It almost universally meant that Exili had shut down in an effort to contain his frustration… or anger. “Denfehlath,” he said quietly, looking back up with a carefully-measured stare. “You are of no use if you die.”

“I risk that every time I go to fight,” she countered, and Exili’s eyes twitched towards a glare. “You can’t stop me, Exili – I know I’ve listened to you for damn near two-hundred years, now, but this is something non-negotiable to me. I’ve gotten better, I’m holding down everything in terms of food, I’m working again and as long as I’m… here -” She gestured wildly with her hands. “- I can’t fully get better! I know what will work. It’s time you listened to me instead.”

Exili rose sharply, his hand cocking back and whirling towards a slap with speed Fehl hadn’t expected. Rising in turn, she grabbed his wrist with her right hand, cocking her left hand behind his bicep to meet its twin. Stepping her right foot behind his leg, she began to reflexively apply pressure, the gesture made to twist his elbow and forearm back and bring him to the ground. A prick at her mind – psychological magic, no doubt – whispered a firm stop, and so she did. Exili stared at Denfehlath, and Denfehlath stared back for a long moment before dropping his arm. Exili shook out his wrist, rubbing it as he watched the warrior.

After a long moment, he smiled.

“I’ll clear you to return to the field tomorrow. Welcome back, Fehl.”

He was rewarded with a punch to the shoulder and a playful call of “You bastard!” in response. “That’s what you were trying to do?! Test me?!”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Denfehlath Zephyrwise has always been, if nothing else, impatient.

But, she reckoned she could wait one day more.
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