Walking Through Orgimmar by Melchisedech

[Keeper Of Lore]

As Melchisedech walked with Acherontia out of the Grim guild hall, into the night (or early morning) of Orgrimmar, he looked to her. She walked silently beside him, her sewing paraphernalia crammed haphazardly into one of her bags. He had offended her, or embarrased her. Sighing, he changed direction, heading toward the Valley of Wisdom.

"Acherontia... I should like some time to speak with you, if you have it to spare. I know I initiated our departure from the guild hall somewhat prematurely, and I apologize."

He turned his glowing eyes to her, awaiting some response.

[Keeper Of Lore]

by Acherontia

As the two passed one of the great bonfires that were always blazing in the streets, she slowed her steps, relishing the warmth. "I do not mind. Leaving, I mean. I was not as careful as I should have been." She chuckled, remembering the wine that Melchisedech kept pouring, remembering the stories he told, remembering their laughter. Their lives seemed to be full of killing, and she was grateful to have that time to enjoy after the blood dried and the screams faded. "I am not tired, and I would not mind your company while I sort out -" Acherontia nodded to the bag slung over her shoulder. "Will you find us someplace to sit?"

[Keeper Of Lore]

Melchisedech nodded and peered about, but, unlike nearly every other city, Orgrimmar had no convenient chairs. Eventually, he threw up his hands in frustration and sat on the ground out near the edge of the bonfire's heat. He motioned for Acherontia to join him. She might not have been able to see, but she had always interpreted his gestures fairly accurately.

"Acherontia..." The priest stopped, unsure of how to proceed. For long moments, he floundered... again... until eventually sighing and shaking his head. "May I ask you a very, very, very personal question?"

[Keeper Of Lore]

The warlock had conjured her eye and had begun removing the crumpled pieces of silk from her bag. The ground here was rough, and she laid out a large piece of linen on which to sort the more delicate fabric. Through the Eye, though, she also watched her friend. She had given up trying to see him with her Fel-sight. She could no longer tell what was "normal" for him and what was a disturbance. Reading his face, though...that was something new. Behind the decay and the rot, she tried to see him. What did he want?

Acherontia spread out several large pieces of the fabric and tried to smooth the wrinkles with her bare hands. "Melchisedech, I have asked you many things in the past that you were reluctant to answer. I think I am due, if that is the case with whatever you wish to ask me." She smiled at him, aided somewhat by the wine that she was still feeling. "The worst I could do is refuse to answer."

[Keeper Of Lore]

Melchisedech nodded, pursing his lips in thought. Phrasing would be most important here. He did not wish to hurt her, and yet... he needed more information.

"I know your husband was named Simon... I know very little else." His throat was dry. This was more difficult than he had imagined. He cleared his throat and pressed on. "Please tell me more, if you can. What was he like?"

[Keeper Of Lore]

Acherontia's hand paused, hovering a scant inch above the fabric she was smoothing. It stayed motionless for a fraction of a second before the warlock forced it into motion once again, despite wanting to curl it in her lap and sit, staring into nothingness, as she did so often when she thought about him. The comforting aroma of the smoke from the fire became choking and all memories of the previous few hours were drowned in the mire that rose up and consumed her when Melchisedech spoke his name. The warlock continued to stroke the fabric silently for long moments. Finally, she spoke.

"He-...Simon was...a very simple man. He was not very bright, or...or did not say very much." She paused and took a deep breath. "He was lost in his own thoughts much of the time. Because of that, I-...many people believed he was stupid. But he was selfless. And gentle. He never-" A shadow crossed Acherontia's face and she corrected herself hastily. "Simon would never have harmed anyone."

She hesitated there, pressing her hand flat on the silk. Raising her head to Melchisedech, she fixed him with one of her blank, sad stares. "What do you want to know?"

[Keeper Of Lore]

He sighed. He knew memories of her life hurt the warlock, and he hated to do this to her, to dredge up memories. He felt selfish and self-centered, foolish and cruel.

"I merely wished to know what sort of man he was. You think of him often. I wanted to know what kind of man... what could keep him so often on your mind." The priest hunched his back a bit, seeking to ease the constant ache in his spine. He could feel his cockroach nibbling away at what was left of his viscera, and he scratched at his stomach absently.

"You seek him diligently. Whatever he was, he was enough to consume you, to make you incapable of moving on, despite everything that has happened. I... wanted to know why."

[Keeper Of Lore]

Acherontia turned her face toward the blazing warmth of the fire. She sighed, and her voice, when she spoke again, was very soft. "My friend, you tell me...every time I dwell on him, or speak of him, of finding him, of my life...every time, you tell me that the past has passed. Now, you ask me to speak on it. You ask me about my life..." She leaned back, away from her forgotten materials spread in front of her, and rested against the building near which they sat. "I do not know what to think about that. We have been friends for a long time, and this...seems like the first time you have ever sought to know who I am, and not who you would have me be." She reached into her satchel and withdrew the bottle of juice again, taking a long draught. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them. "He was a good man. And then...he was not himself, but he cannot be blamed for that. I am sure that-...I hope that he is himself once again, wherever he is." Tipping her head back, she rested it against the wall, listening to the crackling of the fire and the nighttime noises of the city.

[Keeper Of Lore]

Melchisedech gave a rueful chuckle. "Perhaps it is because you will not stop dwelling on your past, no matter how much I try, hm? Or maybe I am simply coming to realize that there is a difference between remembering the past and dwelling on it. After all, at your urgings I have begun to remember more and more of my past and share it with you. Perhaps, since I have given you so much information about who I was, I simply am curious about who you were... or still are, as the case may be."

Or maybe, he thought, I am hoping that by making you consider the past more, you can move on, if only to be happy. "You are always so melancholy when you think of your past, and so happy when you are thinking of your present. I wanted to know why."

[Keeper Of Lore]

Acherontia gave the priest a wan smile. "Well, you have had my answer. Are you any more enlightened now than you were?" Leaning her head back against the wall again, she gazed up at the stars with sightless eyes. "I will smile for you tonight, Melchisedech. Ask, and I will speak fondly of my life. I will remember, and not regret, and perhaps you will understand more of why I am who I am." She endeavored to keep her tone light, and sipped from the moonberry juice once again.

[Keeper Of Lore]

The Forsaken stared at his knees, considering. "I am more enlightened, yes... a great deal. I believe I understand why you feel the way you do, and why you encourage Kromag as much as you do. I believe I see why you do not embrace this life, and why you linger in the past."

Melchisedech looked over at Acherontia. "Is there nothing here worth keeping? If you were to find Simon tomorrow, if he were to walk up to you, Forsaken but otherwise unchanged and asked you to return with him, what would you keep? What would you miss?"

A hesitation, and then... "Do you still love him?"

[Keeper Of Lore]

Acherontia chuckled. "Not this again, Melchisedech. There was no encouragement, there was only kindness. Perhaps a little more than was necessary, I will admit. But I saw in him a kind soul, and we had private words that - I had thought - left him with little doubt as to my intentions." The warlock grinned in spite of the gravity of their current situation. "Judging by the way he sounded when last we spoke, he is more focused on you than me, now."

She leaned forward to her work again, rearranging the pieces of silk, sorting them into piles...distracting herself. The priest had made it clear - he valued their friendship more than almost anything she could think of, with the exception of his devotion to Sylvanus and his loyalty to the Grim. She could not bear to say the words.

"My last memories of Simon are...unpleasant. I do not know how I would feel if I came face-to-face with him tomorrow. I always knew -" Her hands paused in their sorting and she fought not to bring them to her face, to scratch at the marks there, to fold them over her abdomen. She swallowed, and continued again. "I always knew it would be hard if we ever saw each other again. Perhaps it is only the memory of him that I love, but I cannot be sure. And, of course-" She forced the lightness back into her voice and smiled at Melchisedech. "I would be forced to carry the weight of leaving my gallant knight with no one to protect. It would be a difficult choice, my friend." She shook her head gently. "I do not think it is one I could make until I absolutely had to."

[Keeper Of Lore]

The priest listened silently, remaining silent long after she had stopped speaking. The thought that she could just walk away... from the Grim, from the Horde, from him... was more than he could bear. And yet, she had not said she WOULD leave. Merely that she did not know.

Eventually, he nodded, looking to her once more. "Well, let me assure you, if you left, your gallant knight would have no idea where to go or what to do. You would be missed terribly, more, I suspect, than you realize. I hope you do not consider me a terrible person for hoping that day never comes... especially when you have so many better reasons for considering me a terrible person." The last was said with a smile, an attempt at levity.

[Keeper Of Lore]

Acherontia stared into the fire as she absorbed his words. She dropped the piece of silk she held in her hands and leaned back against the wall once more. Slowly, without looking, she reached out, feeling for him, his constant presence in her life. Her outstretched fingers grazed the sleeve of his robe and she followed it down to where it ended, and beyond as she took his hand in her own and squeezed it tightly.

"I am very fortunate to have you here with me, Melchisedech."

As the two figures sat in silence, the bonfire shifted, collapsing in on itself and sending spirals of sparks up into the night sky. They blew higher before they extinguished themselves over Orgrimmar, and the ashes were carried away on the wind.