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The Man I Love

By: lalolita
folder +S through Z › World of Warcraft
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 15
Views: 2,597
Reviews: 8
Recommended: 0
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Disclaimer: I do not own World Of warcraft , nor I make any profit nor money from this story. !
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The Man I Love

Ok! So This story has been in my mind lately and I had to put it down on words! So.. excuse my english if there are some errors, I'm not a native speaker.

Hope you enjoy!         





A/N: Please rate and review, any kind of feedback would be great and highly appreciated !



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   What if the man that he had learnt to praise and look up to disappeared? What if this man ceased to exist, dead end for him at the mercy of his own horde companions?

            His heart skept a beat as he approached the fallen man. He looked a bit older than the last time that Zeyhan had seen him; his face aged from the hardworking and so awful chores of fighting for his faction and his honor. There was no time for thinking in the midst of such gruesome battle; no time to even gasp at the atrocities that were happening. The pale and tired blood elf gathered the last of his strengths in order to carry the human away from flying limbs and sharp blades swinging and swifting in midst air.

          The heavy body being dragged out of the battle complained in a faintly grunt; his head bumping softly to the ground; his silvery hair stuck to his forehead and cheeks with sweat and blood. Once they were far enough to not be spotted, Zeyhan raised and lifted the human to his shoulders and carried him for a few miles away before they could mount on his raptor. The effort that the paladin had to make in order to carry the older, bigger and heavier man to where they were was immense. Not to mention that both of them were wearing plated armor, thus making their bodies bulkier and a lot heavier than usual.

            He panted and gasped for air, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. His arm ached because of an arrow that had hit him, but he had to ignore his own blood in order to pay attention to the evident shiny, fresh crimson stains that his friend had left on his armor and his hands. With a face of genuine concern, the elf looked at the seemingly fainted man in his arms. It would seem strange for anyone passing by to see him, a horde member, carrying what seemed to be dead human, so he had to set his way far from the main road, trying to avoid as much contact with anyone as it was possible until they reached common lands, or at least a shelter of some sort. 

                Tears of pain and desperation were rolling down the green eyes of the younger man. What would he do once they reached common lands? He needed a healer, someone who knew how to treat his wounded friend, but he wasn't hoping to encounter with the only person that he knew that could help him out. 

                As his raptor Kalijh made his way through the thick, dense bushes of Stranglehorn Vale, Zeyhan, all tears, mud and blood, finally spotted the glorious entrance to Booty bay, a common place where no questions were asked if horde and alliance were seen together. At least no questions done by the green little habitants of the bay.

             The goblins at the place neither seemed friendly nor aggressive; staring at Zeyhan as he entered with a corpse on his arms, mounting a crimson raptor with a furious gaze.  

              He led his raptor up some stairs and a across a bridge as they crossed the entire place, arriving at the inn and almost fainting at the entrance door. He dismounted the raptor and carefully put his friend’s right arm around his shoulder, dragging him across the hall and up the stairs; forcing his body with the last bits of energy that he had left within him. As Zeyhan entered the inn room and closed the door behind him with a weak kick, he placed Crikton on the bed and sat beside him, breathing heavily. He only waited a few seconds until his sweaty body had recovered a little bit from the previous effort and then violently raised himself up, running for the bathroom and clinging himself over the sink, gasping desperately and choking on agony, fear and desperation. He only raised his head to see in the mirror a terrorized man, with tears flowing down his green eyes and cuts with dry blood and dirt all over his face. Small strands of blonde hair were sticking to his forehead and the rest of it tied in a messy bundle. His thin legs were shaking and he felt in his stomach the distinctive sensation of a big vacuum and cold air pincing inside him. The elf suddenly shook and turned around abruptly, kneeling down and throwing up every last bit of food and water that he had in his stomach into the toilet; nervousness and fear being the ones to blame for that. Water splashed at his face as he threw up once more, this time his stomach contracting painfully. He choked and coughed for several times before he gathered strength to rise up and wash his face with cold water that he lately sipped to ease the burning sensation in his throat.

             Zeyhan grabbed a towel and a bowl with cold water which he brought and placed on the floor next to Crikton. He sat and carefully began untying belts from the warrior's armor so that his wounds could be easily cleaned. After leaving Crikton with only his leather pants on, he carefully proceeded to take off his helmet, which was smashed in the lower left back, a hole in it from which blood had been dripping. He softly slid the helmet off of the human's head with one hand, as with the other he had slightly raised Crikton up to be able to undress him properly without hurting him anymore than he was. Silver hair lightly fell again on the pillow when Zeyhan placed him gently back on the bed. The sheets had already stained a reddish color. 

            With the little that he knew on first aids, he took the humid towel and cleaned every single wound on the older man's body; he had a few cuts on his arms and some more on his legs, but the worst were on his torso just above the ribs, from where shiny red blood spouted out in little streams from deep cuts probably caused by an axe or something very similar. He then wrapped the wounds with the last bandages that he had left, dipping them generously in a medicinal potion. The only wound that he found himself difficulted to treat was the one on Crikton's head; caused by an orc's mace. His skin was torn open on a spot and blood poured out constantly, something that if he didn’t stop quickly could lead his friend to death from bleeding out. Vivid red flesh could be seen under the open skin, and he thanked the Light for having made him a man of a strong stomach, because if not it would have been really difficult to help the human out. 

              All throughout the process of cleaning and bandaging his wounds, Crikton's face had been serene and drawn away from any pain; and if it were not for his chest lightly raising and falling, Zeyhan would have sworn him dead already, but he knew that the man had fainted due to the unbearable pain that he had gone through. Zeyhan regretted and felt weak by the fact of knowing that, as a Paladin, he had the blessing of the Light with him, something that he could have used on his friend, but that due to exhaustion, he was not able to.

               Once he cleaned him entirely and did the best he could, he checked his own wound, cleaning it a bit and then heading out to breathe some cool air and clear his disturbed mind. 

               As he walked down the stairs he heard a familiar voice faintly coming from outside. He accelerated his pace and finally arrived to the deck in which he found the troll standing and talking feverishly with a tauren. His face lit in hope and utter surprise as he saw her. 

''Keyrna!'' he sighed in relief and approached her, ignoring the tauren standing in front of her.

''Zeyhan!'' she seemed surprised ''what are ye doin here? Ye look like shit mon' “she added inspecting his face.

"You need to help me! Please! I've been in a battle" he babbled "Please! Come!”

Without even asking her, he grabbed the troll's hand and almost dragged her into the inn and out of the warm afternoon sunlight. Her blue hair arranged in a semi-Mohawk and several locks swiftly danced around her, the many engarments that she wore heavily swinging as well. The tauren looked at her go and shouted eagerly:

"Okay then Key, see you later!" and was gone.



 

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