Ande'thoras-ethil

It had been nearly twenty years since he had returned home, a long time for any Kaldorei to be without the lulling twilight of Teldrassil. Most of his kin returned home regularly, even if it was to simply step upon the springy, sweet smelling earth that lay within the great World Tree for a short while before leaving once more. Their souls were forever tied to their homeland, and while there were several small villages in the twilight areas of Kalimdor, nothing could ever replace the feeling of truly going home.

Andissiel, however, was an oddity among his kind in the sense that he felt neither the longing to revisit, nor the insistent call that Teldrassil oft filled the less jaded. He knew that there were others, some that had simply traveled too far and had seen too much to want to bring the shadows of what they had encountered home with them.

As he settled in next to his fire, he brooded, fingers absently stroking the fur of his Nightsaber. He was prepared to stay in the wilds for the rest of his life, if he were allowed such. There had been a time once where he had been a student, curious, painfully shy and thoughtful, eager to learn as he cleared the way for his future. So many ideas of what it might have been like, all forsaken. He had had friends, he had born the colors of a tight-knit guild, he had even had a female that he was interested in, but alas, Elune had other ideas. Of course, Andissiel wasn’t even sure if he believed in her anymore, either.

A sound alerted him from his thoughts and he was on his feet in an instant. It was the scream of an animal, a cat he would bet, and it sounded as if it had been wounded badly. Bengal shifted uneasily at his side, her large grey eyes staring off into the distance at something that he couldn’t see. Frowning deeply, Andissiel turned and prepared to settle in once more. It was probably someone hunting. Of course, the closest place he knew of for cats was in Darkshore; he had seen bears, wolves, and bucks aplenty in these woods, but not cats. He could have been mistaken, he thought to himself.

Scratching between his pet’s ears, he sighed and leaned down, grabbing his bow before starting off in the direction that the cry had originated from. It was somewhat of a fair distance, but Bengal was wandering ahead of him, head ducked and ears back as she prowled through the ferns towards the source.

And when they arrived, there was nothing. Not a spot of blood, nor the creature that had cried out so painfully.

“Well now…” he murmured, feeling distinctly fouler in temperament than he had before. Bengal shifted, her head dipping low to sniff at the ground for a moment before turning her eyes back to him.

It was here. Animal but…at the same time different. The smell of fear and sadness still lingers.

Andissiel’s eyebrow quirked upward. An animal but different? That left a wide range of things open; things that were animal but different. The Laughing Sisters for one. The Naga for another.

At that moment, a grief-stricken voice in Darnassian reached his ears, a battle call. Combined with the rage-driven yell of an Orc, unmistakable to the Hunter, it sent him into a tensed coil, his hands moving to draw an arrow to his bow, Bengal growling low in her throat.

Together, the Night Elf and the cat moved forward towards it, the sound of thunder and lightning mixing with the sounds of battle. He came upon a group of Horde, a female Druid standing in the middle with her arms raised, calling on the wrath of a hurricane. An Orc sent his mace crashing into the side of her skull, effectively cutting off the power she was channeling and sending her spinning to the ground.

Andissiel was torn; she looked dead, and even the Horde seemed to come to the same conclusion. Dead, or knocked out; he wasn’t sure. The stench of burning flesh called his attention and he looked at the fire, a feeling of horror drawing a gasp from between his lips at the sight of charred bodies, a long pointed ear sticking out obviously from the flames. Rage filled him as he looked back at the Orc that had dealt the blow, watching with an sickened stomach as it reached down to caress the elf’s neck, laughing. He could hear him say something; his knowledge of Orcish rather hit and miss, though he caught enough of it to make his grip on the bow tighten.

The druid still lived. The Orc’s massive hand moved leisurely over her leather-clad chest and down to the female’s exposed belly in an unmistakable way, and Andissiel decided that he had had more than enough, even as the monster yanked her up, her head lolling onto her chest as he threw her over his broad shoulder, and patted her backside appreciatively while he grinned at his friends.

He imbued the arrow with magic and let it fly. It buried itself in the center of the Orc’s forehead, and he fell over. Those that were left were in a sudden uproar, going for their weapons, but Bengal was already attacking, and Andissiel was already notching another arrow. Before long, between his pet’s deadly claws and his true aim, the bodies of the Horde lay scattered around, unmoving. He entered the circle of the fire, kicking aside the dead Orc roughly before kneeling down, fingers finding the pulse in the female’s neck. When he felt the slow, weak thump against his fingers, he nodded once, slipping his arms beneath her. He cradled her close as he turned his back from the grotesque scene and headed for his own camp, wondering what the hell he thought he was doing. He could simply bandage her and hope it enough when she came to. What he was doing now was letting unnecessary trouble into his already troubled, but nonetheless peaceful life.

But he couldn’t just leave her there. If the scene he had deduced was correct, it seemed that her entire party had been killed and burned, leaving only her and her sense of vengeance, or suicide, whichever the case might be. Suicide seemed more likely, as even he knew that without the element of surprise or the ability to cloak oneself from the enemies’ sight like himself, the battle would have been a desperate loss.

He lay her gently on the ground by the fire, sitting back a moment to stare. Heavily lidded eyes, aquiline nose, full lips, skin that couldn’t seem to make up its mind about whether it was more of a lavender shade or a jade, strangely exotic even to a night elf, especially since her eyebrows were about as prominent as a human woman’s were. Her hair was a tumbling violet-blue color, the braid it had been gathered into at the base of her neck partially undone. Her armor was in need of being repaired, and he could see the faded, thin thread in places where it had already been repaired previously.

Bengal sniffed at the unconscious elf, nudging her gently with her wet nose.

See? Animal, but at the same time different. she said indignantly, sitting back on her haunches.

Andissiel rolled his eyes and pulled out a number of bandages, using one of his canteens to clean out the wounds before applying them. The female didn’t move throughout his crude doctoring. She looked nearly like a mummy after he was finished, but he could already sense the magic working on her, healing the wounds she received. The one on her head would be the worst, he thought to himself, staring at the violet stain on the runecloth. She could wake up without her mind intact, if she woke up at all. The last thing he needed was an amnesiac woman on his hands; he resolved to dump her in Astranaar if that were the case.

She smells like a woodier version of the blue-skinned tusk-man back there. The other Hunter. Bengal commented, rough tongue briefly curling out to brush over his arm. He made a small noise of protest in the back of his throat, wiping the saliva from himself before shrugging.

“Doesn’t matter. She’s not our problem after this.” He told the feline. Bengal sniffed and settled down on the ground, rolling onto her back for a moment before coming to rest on her side, her skepticism evident, and he almost resented his loyal pet for it.

He relaxed into a more comfortable position, luminescent amber eyes watching the female for any sign of movement before falling into a light sleep.


~oO0Oo~

The air was thick with moisture, the briny scent of the ocean outside the world tree mingling with the smells of the wooded area around her. She was a child again, running in and out of the open inn while her mother sold her wares. Blue-violet hair was kept short, her slender ears poking out from the leaf-strewn mess atop her head, and her small dress was showing it’s wear. Enayla was grinning at a blue-haired elf, her hip jutting out as she shifted her weight, basket tucked securely under her arm. Her mother had once been a respected woman before she made the mistake of laying with that Troll rogue. She had been one of the best Rangers in Azeroth, but motherhood had softened her so much that nobody recognized her immediately when they stood with her.

Saeberia sniffed as she watched, not liking the way the man lightly brushed her mother’s hand, or the way her mother seemed so coy with him.

Toying with the small wooden-leather pendant around her neck, the only thing she had of her father, she turned away, frowning in displeasure. They were in Dolanaar today. There, sitting on the carven rail of wood where the druids nested, was another blue haired male, but this one was considerably younger, perhaps only ten years older than she herself was by the slightly older look to him. He smiled at her and she flushed, the tips of her ears darkening momentarily as she looked away.

The man that had been speaking with her mother eventually took her as a mate, and her mother bore two more daughters. The boy on the rail, well he was the one that found her in Darnassus and held her hand. He was the man who curled so protectively around her body when they slept. He was the man who had promised that no matter what happened, they would always be together. He was the man on the fire, staring at her with dead, lightless eyes.

Flashes of memories and nightmares flickered past Saeberia’s eyes, burning themselves deeply into her mind. Her body was burning too, she could almost swear it. There was so much pain, especially in her head, and all she could think of was that Trysal had been right; not even death could keep them apart. She waited patiently, abiding the pain for as long as it took until he appeared, but he never came.

When she finally opened her eyes, she was shivering from cold and covered nearly head to toe in bandages. She could see stars through the leafy canopy above her and she bit back an anguished cry; she could not even succeed in dying properly.

There was a rustle at her head and she jumped, pain lancing through her body as she did it. A sickened groan elicited from her and she closed her eyes, trying to overcome the urge to turn her head and simply vomit on the ground next to her. When it passed, she opened her eyes and was met by a pair of pale grey orbs, staring at her seriously from the face of a nightsaber.

The creature moved, laying closely to the Druid, her teeth closing on her cloak and tugging, insistent that the female move backwards a little. Saeberia did so, painstakingly moving back until her head and shoulders were propped against the feline’s soft belly. The cat shifted, curing herself a little tighter, her massive head tucking itself under the Druid’s chin. It was trying to keep her warm. Despite the odd situation, Saeberia felt nearly overwhelmed gratitude at its actions. She hadn’t yet noticed the Hunter on the other side of the dead fire, or the fact that despite the fact he looked asleep, inside he was cursing the feline for her brazen care. He was almost tempted to tell Bengal to make sure she didn’t name the night elf female, or there would be no getting rid of her.

The Druid was out within mere seconds, her breathing slow and regular. Andissial scowled lightly, a quiet voice in the back of his mind whispering how bad it was that his cat, barely more than a wild animal, felt more compassion for the female than himself. Maybe the voice was right, but the Hunter had no intention of letting another woman get the better of him.


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Author's note: To give credit where it is due, Andissiel is loosely based on my friend's toon. His basic temperament is the same, but I've embellished quite a bit of it. Hope you enjoyed chapter 2! Don't forget to let me know how I'm doing.