Idyllic calm, peace and harmony. These words describe this spot by the shore of the babbling brook, its waters gently traipsing along merely from there to here and onward sure in its place within the recently balanced realm of Pandaria and this was the spot where she fished. Today. Yesterday. Time was losing meaning here as she surrendered herself to the moments that transpired without much need to place thought on the why or what of any matters. Within the gently swirling waters, near some lazily bending water reeds, the fishing line disappeared attached to the long bamboo pole cradled in the crook of her arm, vivid green eyes watching the fishing bobber dip and bounce slightly with the waters passing movement. A small fire crackled nearby to ward off the early mornings chill. It was always the best time to fish. Her father had taught her that. So many early mornings risen from a warm bed to slog down well beaten paths carrying the gear of a fisher folk. Poor by the reckoning of some. Honest and guileless though. Never reaching beyond what was needed. Never greedy. Shimmering green eyes blinked briefly closed and paused unseeing before opening to watch the bobber again. A buffet of smoke from the fire wafting at the eyes as the wind changes directions momentarily causing them to tear up. Yes. It was the smoke.
Your time is finished here. Why do you linger still? As if your presence is what retains this calm. You know this is a lie. There was peace before your kind came here bringing hate, conflict and pain. The General is captured. The threat is removed. You do not belong here.
Shifting in her seated position she lifts the fishing pole to tug lightly making the bobber dance along the waters surface.
"He escaped you know?"
It took Frya a moment to realize the voice had come from without and turning her head she regarded the young pandaren cub who had padded down to the shore without her notice.
"Why aren't you chasing him?" continued the youngling.
Glancing back to the bobber on the water Frya shrugged, "There are others. The Troll leads them. What could possibly go wrong?" her voice cannot hide the snide contempt laced within the words.
Rocking from heel to toe and back the cub watches the blood elf, "Isn't that what your people do? Hunt down those bad people? Right wrongs?"
"I am no shining knight to rid this world of those who would have the courage to take the power that they deserve. What care I if the General rises again? I did not care that he rose in the first place. At least he had determination to do what must be done." she pauses as if summoning the bile to spit forth more but seems to lose momentum with the brook babbling by gently, the wind sawing through the air cleansing.
Quiet descended while the cub watched the elegant blood elf, "Why are you still here?"
Fury rising up within her with frightening speed the mage flings forth her hand quickly and casts her uncurled fingers in the cubs direction. Most of the deadly ice shards go straight through the clothing and soft flesh of the youngling though some remain impaling the body which slowly crumples to the sand and low grass of the shores. There is a soft grunt of escaping air as the body keens to its side on its knees before falling over, arm flopping out extended with a paw dropping into the passing waters which swirl around and past it unheeding. The eyes take a moment for their light to fade but eventually they stare out lifeless and unseeing. Dead.
Looking at her hand she slowly lowers it and cradles the bamboo fishing pole again, bottom lip quivering as she turns her head to focus her vivid green eyes on the fishing bobber upon the waters surface again. The sun rises slowly on the horizon casting the landscape in golden hues of brilliant radiance.
Why are you still here?
Standing slowly, the fishing pole dropping from her numb fingers to the grass and sands of the shore, she turns on a heel leaving behind the crackling fire sputtering and flickering with the mornings wind. Robes trailing in the low grasses she walks forward a few steps with her hands already risen, fingers moving sluggishly to trace arcane lines in the air before her and then without looking back she steps through a shimmering in the air and is gone.
Left behind the fire sways this way and that consuming the wood in its depths slowly but surely, greedily. The discarded fishing pole rests in the grasses, bobber drifted further down stream where the reeds bend gently in the passing breeze. Other than that there is nothing more of note to see.
Babbling Brook
Re: Babbling Brook
((evil elf!....and a guilty conscience one too, hmmm!))