westwhere | They build wooden houses on frozen ponds

WHO: Anduin & Others
WHEN: Travel arc!
WHERE: Mistress Isakanami's inn
WHAT: Starters for Anduin during the event! Plot with me here and I'll put together a starter for you too, and/or feel free to hit up Anduin's IC inbox!
WARNINGS: None from the start

It has been a long few months, in Serthica.

If Anduin is being honest with himself, the exhaustion had probably started to set in even before they had set foot in that city. On the boat on the journey over perhaps? When he had fired one too many arrows into the sky and knocked himself out for a solid three days. Or had that been the final straw? Was it before then, in Ke-Waihu? As he had fought to save the village from destruction. Children from sacrifice. Or was it in Ellethia before? Saving that ship from the rocks, and Zenobius from the collapse of the tower's magic. Even in Taravast, he had fought to save Donna Rigarda. For better or worse.

Again, and again, and again. Fighting for others. Sometimes winning the battle, sometimes not. Fighting for his own life. Risking it for others. Anduin isn't certain he knows how to turn it off, but he's... Tired.

They have succeeded in this last attempt and saved the city, but there had been a high chance they might not, and -- it was that thought that had spurred him on. Beyond his exhaustion, beyond his limits. Wrathion had reminded him of how Arthas Menethil culled the plague in Stratholme, and he would not, could not allow such loss to happen on his watch. Not when there had been something he could do about it. But now.

Here they are, in this quiet place of relaxation. And he is trying, he really is trying to take it easy. But he can't help but wonder...

What next?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A gut-wrenching moment of confusion takes Anduin before he remembers that yes, the beacons do this. Give and take at leisure. Anduin had experienced that first-hand, when Wrathion had gone, and then came back. Months gone by in Azeroth, minutes here in this world.

Does his companion recognize him? Anduin does not dare to ask, steeling his heart against the thought he might not as he offers him a nod in response to the first thought. Yes. They had been friends. Eleven had been one of the only people who had seemed to -- understand. Even if he was not priest exactly. And then...

"I..." Anduin says, trailing off as he takes in the measure of his companion. He offers him another soft smile. "I suppose that I should ask you much of the same."

Eleven returns his smile, at ease in a way he hasn't been since returning here.

"My memories are still coming together," he answers. "It's been a challenge, to.. to organize all of this. Alternate dimensions, worlds, and split timelines.." Eleven waves a dismissive hand, then shrugs, smile turning wry as his voice takes on an edge of humor. "You know I was raised in a small village in the mountains?"

Anduin quirks a smile in response to that comment, shaking his head as he does.

"You had not said so," he replies. "And if you mean to bring it up now as some commentary on your lack of worldliness, I think you are selling yourself short." He cocks his head at his companion. "After all, you have already been here once before. It will all return soon enough."

He hesitates for a moment, wondering if he should ask, before he simply goes out on a limb. "I am called Anduin," he says, gently. "In case having a name to connect to the face makes it easier to recall."

Eleven laughs shortly and hopes that Anduin's faith is well-placed. He grins, eyes bright.

"I knew it was something like that. I know I like you- that part of it is because your spirit feels like.." Eleven blinks, focusing a moment on warmth and light, then closes his eyes with a quiet hum. "Like mine."

Like something he could take refuge in if ever he found himself wretched and bereft again. He sighs softly and regards Anduin with a peaceable smile.

"But there was some other reason we were friends too, I think."

"We were drawn together because of the Light, I expect," Anduin replies, gently. At least, that is how it had been for himself. "Because you are one of the few here who understood half of what I meant about... Any of it, really."

He casts a glance aside to his companion, smiling softly as he does.

"Myself as a Priest, and... You as an Acolyte, if I am remembering correctly?"

"Cham-" Eleven flushes, glancing off. Fidgets, then shrugs. "..Champion, would be most accurate," he says on a breath.

He offers another shrug, glancing up. "But I fulfilled my role, and Yggdrasil isn't here, so it doesn't matter so much now. What er- deity are you pledged to?"

Anduin offers his companion (another) gentle smile. It's okay to admit to his role. Anduin won't judge him for it. Stormwind had its own Champions, as did Orgrimmar. Anduin is familiar with the concept.

"Oh -- no," he says, shaking his head. "No deity. The Church of the Holy Light does not worship anything else but the Light itself. It's founded on the Three Virtues: of Respect, Tenacity, and Compassion. And the belief that the Light exists in all things."

They build wooden houses on frozen ponds

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GOD I AM SORRY FOR THE DELAY somehow i never got a notif for this reply, sweats

oh no, it's okay

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