The Perils of Academia

[shirafune]

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!

Sunrise had just managed to find its way into the courtyard before Sunstrider Spire, the young light just managing to set the accents of gold - the edges of the blades of the Silvermoon guards, the filigree on the benches, the veins within the white marble of the fountain - alight. In the branches of the manicured trees, songbirds gave an experimental burst of tweeting before falling into full song. Sleepy shopkeeps pulled back the brass woven grates that protected their store fronts and prepared to continue to be the tiny cogs that ran the great machine of Blood Elf commerce. The capital of Quel'Thalas was slowly unfolding from the night and ready to start the day.

...Except that one.

Stomping out between the rows of guards, a tiny figure is making its angry, stalking way out of the Spire and into the harsh, unwelcome morning. A satchel bulging with books bounces against her hip with the sound of the books within clapping against each other as she strode past the Sentinel circling the fountain. However, one book was in her hands, slim fingers gripping it as if to choke it.

The very book - the most referenced source of information of the Second War and the Dragonmaw's assault on Silvermoon...fabricated. The sources that she'd spent the last three nights ceaselessly combing the libraries of Silvermoon for simply did not exist. It was enough to make her vision bifurcate in pure, scholarly affront.

As soon as the Sentinel patrolled its way down towards Murder Row, Shirafune chucked the tome into the fountain.

The wretched book now sinking into the water, Shira made her way to the Walk of Elders and the only inn that was both completely open this time of morning and served cheap enough coffee that her meager pockets could afford.

Satchel thumping to the floor in a heavy thud, Shira sank into a seat against the wall and rolled the steaming mug between her hands to warm them. She had an hour of so before she would have to be back in Northrend, having whittled her off-time to pursue her research.

[Kevasha]

The angry elven woman stormed past, she didn’t notice a dark haired Apothecary watching her as she stormed by from a bench near the fountain. Pyronystus wore his black apothecary robes, a badge announcing his rank affixed to his upper right arm, a tome resting between his crossed legs that he had been researching. His imp was perched next to him, idly chewing on a soul shard that it had been given.

He gave a low amused chuckle as she pitched the book into the fountain, deep fel eyes regarding the title a moment before he smiled.

“Poor dear, seems to have reached a dead end. Should we help her?” He asked out loud, his imp speaking lightly “If it pleases you Master!” A fanged smirk at the statement. “Of course…I suppose I could see if she wished to see the library at home…” He snapped his tome closed and stood, readjusting his robes and flicking a few strands of hair over his shoulder easily. “Come. Let’s find her.” The imp nodded and scampered after its Master as fast as it could.

As he walked, he slipped the tome back into place and cast that deep emerald gaze over Murder Row. Closing his eyes, he took a soft breath through his nose, the scents of magic and the city meeting him. Elegant brows furrowed as he worked his way through the tangled threads of scent before finding the one he wanted. Opening his eyes, he followed along the scent until it lead him to an inn, and a certain mopey bookworm.

“I’m guessing you’ve hit a wall in your research then hm?” He stood with his arms held at his side in a non aggressive gesture, his imp behind him, peeking from around his robes at this priest woman.

“Is there anyway I can be of assistance?”

[shirafune]

Mopey wasn't the word for it. She was pissed. Even the secondary sources and the Grand Index failed to even register the existence of the book's cited literature. It was more than a brick wall, it was a black hole.

Oh, and the fact that the warlock from the Crossroads was back didn't help her temper any right now.

Peering up from the rim of her cup, Shirafune took a moment to absorb the sight of his robes and the badge of his office on his arm before snapping her own bright green eyes closed. Her breath rippled over the steaming surface of the coffee and she prayed for patience. Wrong person, wrong time, wrong subject. By the Sunwell, she wanted that book back - sopping wet - just to throw at him again.

"I severely doubt that."

[Kevasha]

Even though he could smell the anger rolling from her thin frame, he was as composed as ever. He's stared scarier things in the face than her, like an angry Horkugal for example.

Shifting he folded his arms gently in his usual comfortable posture. "I see that your research is still on going and....I come with an offer. I wish to help. My family has amassed a great deal of literature that could be of great use to you if you wished to see it."

Yes, warlock though he may be, that didn't make him a bad guy. He understood well the academic frustrations of trying to find a book that just wasn't there. Then again, all those holes in her research probably had a very good reason.

He gave a small wave, his imp vanishing to the nether with a small squeak of surprise, the last thing he needed was for her to snap on him. He could deal with shadow priests yes, but it didn't mean that he liked to.

[shirafune]

To be honest, Shirafune had been ready to stand up and walk away. She had jobs lined up to do today, and if she wanted to eat sometime soon, she needed to get up to Northrend post haste. There were monsters to slay, Scourge to vanquish and lost items to find on some poor sap's corpse in the barren tundras.

Her cup hovered but an inch above the saucer when he mentioned a private library. Her eyes canted to him from under reddish lashes, slitting to thin slices of molten green. Private libraries were rare, often belonging to organizations like the Priestly Order or noble families with money to buy rare tomes of magic or history from public organizations.

His family had books? What family did he come from to afford a private collection?

It was still very early in the morning, surely those jobs weren't a case of life and death, right...?

The cup clicks into place in the saucer as she stands up and drops a few coins for the coffee on the table.

"Lead on, then."

[Kevasha]

He smiled as she agreed to follow him "This way then..." He motioned with his hand before making his way out. He wound his way through the busy streets, leading her to Murder Row. Walking to one of the buildings he produced a silver key and unlocked it, pushing it open and motioning for her to go ahead of him.

Before them was a simple looking white marble staircase that wound its way up two floors before stopping at a pair of double doors carved from rich dark woods, inlaid with hammered gold that crept out over the surface in an intricate filigree. Before them stood a single Spellbreaker, his back spun glaive held before him in a defensive position, point down to the floor, sharp green eyes staring at them as they approached. He was a rather strong looking man, his bright crimson hair pulled up into a ponytail. "Who dare approach this entrance?"

The young warlock smiled to the man "Ahhh Autherion..I've come home...and I've brought a guest." The red head blinked and bowed his head "Of course...I apologize for not recognizing you sooner m'lord." Pyron rolled his eyes and waved a hand "Enough of the formalities..please let us in." Autherion nodded before turning to the heavy doors and pushed them open, standing aside.

Beyond the doors was a rather lavish foyer, black marble floor, the walls a brilliant blood red. A chandelier above them cast an arcane glow about the room, allowing views of the elegantly framed paintings. There were fainting couches, one on each side of the room covered in rich crushed red velvet.

Looking back at her almost apologetically he continued on the main room. Two staircases came from the second floor, converging in the middle and then splitting again to lead to the ground floor. Again this room was decorated in black marble, gold and various tones of red.

"Mother? I'm home! I've brought a guest as well!"

An excited elegant voice would call back. "Pyron?! Oh my darling boy!" The sound of someone running in heels echoed through the main room as his mother Alexandria Darksun hurried down the stairs, her skirts held up so that she didn't trip. Behind her, her imp bounced happily to keep up.

She was of a modest height her face kind and warm despite her choice of profession, dictated by the mischievous imp that scurried about the hem of her elegant dress. The blood red silk of it complimented her fair skin tone, her ebony hair pinned up with bright gold and emerald hair pins, the stones matching the glow of her eyes. Black silk gloves adorned her hands, matching the dark lace that worked it's way in intricate patterns over the skirt of her dress.

Once she had made it to the ground floor, she ran over and hugged her son tight. "Ohhh! Pyron! I'm so glad you're alright! Are you hurt? Are you sick? Did those horrible Forsaken do something to you?" She fussed as a worried mother did, Pyron taking this attention with a calm smile.

"I'm fine mother."

She blinked seeing Shirafune and smiling sweetly "Oh! This must be your friend! It's a pleasure to meet you dear. I am Alexandria Darksun, Pyron's mother. You look as if you've had a rough morning..I know just the thing for that! Come!" She clapped her hands and a young man walked in, a rather handsome specimen of bloodelf. His features sharp, his long golden hair brushed back over his shoulders, his clothing that of a servant. "My lady?" He gave a bow as he awaited orders. "Please! Show my son and his friend to the sitting room, and brew some tea for us...hmm...the cherry blossom if you would." He nodded and stood, motioning with his hand. "Please...this way..." He turned and led them on. "I'll be along in a minute dears!" She called after them, smiling as they went.

Pyron sighed a little, looking to Shirafune "I apologize...my mother gets very...excited when I bring home friends."

[shirafune]

At first, Shirafune had followed the Apothecary along the shadowed colonnade of Murder Row, tucking her satchel closer to herself and her eyes darting to dark corners to watch for cut-purses and pickpockets. While she had little in the ways of pure coin on her, there were plenty of thieves that would gladly pawn off some valuable books to black market sellers or simply take for the thrill of taking.

So her focus really isn't on the warlock when he slides the silver key into a heavy wooden door. Escorting her inside and closing and locking the lock behind them, she finally let the thread of tension in her shoulders relax. A quick glance around her gave her no clues as to where they were going, not once giving thought to the fact that following this man, an all-but stranger, to his home was probably not the smartest idea in the world. Curiosity might end up killing her in the end.

But the pause at the door to speak with the guard made her mind suddenly kick forward into high gear. A Spellbreaker guarded his home? Not only were the members of that ancient order few and far between, but the price of their services were spectacular. Only the wealthiest and most privileged of Houses could afford to employ their services.

Her eyes glanced over him as Pyron spoke with the guardsman, avoiding his eyes. Amid the red silk and thread-of-gold that padded the pristine armor, Shirafune couldn't spy a single stitch of the broken sphere that was the emblem of the Spellbreakers' order. Instead, dotted along the breast and the lapels in black thread, was a spiral-armed sun.

This Spellbreaker was a retainer.

Now holding her bags tightly again, this time for sake of security, she followed Pyron through the elaborately tooled double doors, a faint hum of arcane magic buzzing against her skin as she passed over the threshold. A security screen for both privacy and cleanliness, since most reiterations of the popular spell included a spell to shear dirt from clothes and shoes. As soon as she stepped into the foyer - larger than her meager apartment on the other side of the city! - Shira's eyes widened. Rubbernecking to take in the entirety of the room, it was only the grinding of her jaw that kept it from dropping to the floor like an idiot.

But she couldn't help but notice that on the silk tapestries, on the clothes of the people in the paintings, tooled into the furniture and etched out into the floor with gold was the same sun motif. It set a nagging voice off in the back of her head - she knew that symbol, but where...?

"Pryon! Oh my darling boy!"

The new voice made the priest jump a bit, head swiveling towards the grandiose staircase to watch a woman flutter down the steps in a hurricane of red and black silk and jewels. Black gloves grabbed the warlock and pulled him into a tight embrace, cooing and fretting over him frantically. A smile curved up the ends of her lips to watch him get mother-henned, his hair and robes ruffled as she personally inspected his face and hands for...something. Injury, plague rot, scars, teeth marks, maybe?

Amusement withered as she inspected the woman a bit closer; her hair pinned and brushed and coiffed into an elaborate pile of curls and waves, the emerald pins that peeked out amid the ebony as big as her thumbnail and surrounded by scrolls of gold and silver. The necklace that draped down her slim neck and over her shoulders was more like a chandelier for all the shine of gems and precious metals against the lily-white skin. Casting a look down to her own dress, stained with long-evaporated snow and tattered from long bouts of walking through Sunwell-knows-what, simple died wool made for its warmth and not its flattering cut, the priestess suddenly felt...very inadequate.

Then she was being swept up into the undertow of this woman's enthusiasm as she introduced herself and had them being goaded along into another room by a manservant better dressed than she was, the woman's name barely making it to her ears.

Darksun. Alexandria Darksun. She'd just met Alexandria Darksun, head of the Noble House of Darksun, one of the most filthy rich, respected, feared, and powerful noble houses with deep-seated connections to the Warlock community and magical power in its lineage that made most other families purple with envy. A powerhouse in the noble circles with enough political clout to get what they want, when they want, the hour they wanted it.

It was a tribute to her self-control that she was able to wait until the servant bowed himself out of the room to make their tea that she waited to whirl towards Pyron.

"You're", she choked, "the son of Alexandria Darksun?" She was squeaking now. "Why didn't you tell me?"

[Kevasha]

A small almost sheepish smile appeared on his face as she squeaked out her question, he was almost afraid she would strike him for not telling her of his lineage. “I rarely tell people just what family I belong to. Assassins, harassment by politicians and the like, I prefer a certain amount of anonymity.” He nodded as the servant returned with a hammered silver tray with the tea service on it.

The china was white with gold trimming, and elegant pattern of leaves over the pale surface, small gold spoons resting on the saucers as the service was laid out before the two. The servant poured the richly scented tea before bowing and making his way out, opening the door with another bow as Alexandria made her way in. She smiled and patted her manservant before sending him on his way.

She had changed clothes, wearing a simple but elegant emerald green gown, her hair still up, the hairpins replaced with ones bearing onyx and diamond to match her outfit.

Sitting down she sighed softly, smiling sweetly at the pair of young elves as she poured herself a cup of tea “Now then dear, please…tell me of yourself. I’m always so thrilled to meet my Pyron’s friends.” She sipped her tea gently, smiling to the young priestess. Who would have thought a noble woman to be so…friendly?

[shirafune]

The china set, Shira noticed, matched the decor of the room. The gold leafing mimicked on the sides of the white columns against the wall and the ivy painted in elegant swirls and arabesques on the plaster. Sitting tensely on the edge of the crushed velvet cushions, she was hesitant to even pick up the cup set before her.

The cup alone is probably worth more than my apartment, she thought wryly. If not worth more than everything in the apartment.

But leaning forward, Shira did give the steaming tea a deep whiff. The scent of cherries married to a faint dash of lavender and chamomile. Against her will, her fingers closed around the delicate porcelain and lifted it to her face, letting the steam caress her cheeks. Tea was one of the staples of her diet, along with whatever simple bread and jerked meat she could afford. Though, with the warmachine of the Horde shifting into a higher gear with the events in Northrend, bread and dried meat were becoming more expensive as more supplies were needed to fuel the assault on Icecrown.

Plucking a few sugar lumps from a bowl on the set with tiny tongs, Shira took great care in stirring the cup with the golden spoon so that the utensil never clicked against the fragile inside of the china. Forsaking the expensive dish of cream, she took a tiny sip.

"Hmm...!" she sighed. Exquisite! The cherry scent was not just for presentation. The whole bouquet was mixed with - as she'd guessed - lavender and chamomile spliced with a bright cherry flavor. A refreshing blend with just enough sweetness from the sugar to keep it from being too tart.

Then Alexandria Darksun swept into the room, the "simple" dress was still still embroidered with gold and silver along the neckline and twirling along the bodice and the hem of the train that rasped across the marble floor. Taking the other seat at the table, she picked up her cup and sipped it with quiet sigh of appreciation.

Now, Shira, expecting the woman to turn her attention to her son, found herself having to smile awkwardly.

"I'm...a priestess in Silvermoon's convent. A neophyte. My name is Shirafune, ma'am." She bowed her head to the lady, a reflexive action born of learning to look at the floor instead of someone's eyes.

[Kevasha]

Pyron prepared his tea in his usual manner, adding a cube of sugar and a dash of cream, stirring it as he watched her sip from the cup and visibly relax. "Wonderful isn't it? My mother is a connoisseur of teas, she collects them from all corners of the world." He took a sip himself. "She even has a tea from the great city of Stratholme before the purging. Needless to say she was absolutely giddy when she found it."

Alexandria smiled as the young priest introduced herself "Shirafune...it's a pleasure my dear and please, don't call me ma'am." She waved a hand with a smile "It makes me feel rather old." Her son couldn't help but smile behind his cup. "Mother...if I may?" Yes, a male asking permission to speak from a female. A rather...unusual thing in blood elf society. "Yes darling what is it?" She took another small sip of her tea, waiting for her son to speak.

"Shirafune here is a dear friend of mine and she happens to be doing research." A raised brow from his mother, she was interested now. "Oh?" Pyron nodded. "She's reached a dead end though, so I offered her use of the library...if that would be permissible."

She gently placed the cup down and smiled "Oh of course! Just what are you researching dear?"

[shirafune]

Her heart thumped in her chest when the noble lady granted her access to the family's library. A noble family's private reserve was often filled with books found nowhere else on Azeroth, many either snatched up at auctions or purchased flat out from local libraries such as the one at the Convent. Some families employed professional scouters to monitor the Goblin and (under covert machinations) Alliance auctions for rarities, especially in lieu of the arrival of the Draenei and the Church of the Light copying down many of their texts to Common.

"I'm a historian," she replied plainly, putting the cup down with the utmost care on to the saucer and the gilded spoon (there was a joke about the noble son beside her and silver spoons somewhere in all this) to address her hostess without the pressing fear of dropping it and letting it shatter into dust in her clumsy hands. "Among other projects, I'm studying some inaccuracies in accounts of the Second War."

She left the explanation at that. For all the casual ease that Alexandria Darksun had greeted her with so far, there was no telling how much offense she might take to any insinuation that the inaccuracies had been on Silvermoon's side. So a purposeful vagueness was her best path.

[Kevasha]

Pyron took another calm sip of his tea, watching his mother quietly for a reaction. When Shira gave her explaination, the young warlock relaxed and let out the small breath he had been holding when his mother smiled. "My my, such a large burden! But you seem very set on this! Dedication! It's a good quality in a priest. I'll take you to the library when we've finished with tea hm?"

The time passed rather pleasantly, Pyron quiet as the two women talked, remaining so even as his mother regaled the young woman with tales of his childhood. How he got locked in a trunk and was almost sent overseas, How he got stuck up on a bookshelf since he climbed up but wasn't able to climb down. When they were finished, she stood and picked up a fine silver bell giving it a ring. "Oh Valerion dear! Come take the service. We're headed to the library.." Another servant entered. This one with fire red hair which was cropped short, he nodded, giving a bow as Alexandria got up and moved "Come along dears" She smiled to Shira and Pyron before turning to make her way out.

The warlock followed behind his mother, giving a small smile to the priest at his side. A hand rested on her shoulder and gave a small squeeze, leaning in he spoke lowly "You're doing fine...relax.." He knew she was nervous. The smell of it was almost sickening.

[shirafune]

Shira blustered under the praise, a small smile curling her lips as she bowed to the noble lady deeply in her thanks. She was just glad that the woman hadn't inquired further about her position in the Order, last name, or her other research. Essentially, anything that would get her tossed out of the house on her ass as soon as she uttered it. When the servant arrived - another handsome man, she noted distantly - she stood and followed the two Darksuns out into the rest of the mansion, taking care to keep clear of the emerald silk train.

The hand on her shoulder made her jump, both from surprise and from the sudden assault of the scent of Fel that wafted up her nose. The whole house was soaked in it, no surprise considering the warlock pedigree of the family in question; but the close contact made the smell harsher, more concentrated. Still, it was all so strange considering how - a few weeks ago - this man had callously tossed her a soul shard of a twice-dead man.

"Easy for you to say," she breathed under her breath at him, "this is your home."

You're also not hiding anything...

Yet, regardless of the confusion, she had to consciously suppress the urge to bounce with each step. A noble family's private library. A thrill danced through her, heart thudding with excitement as they walked through elaborated vaulted hallways, blanketed with pictures, tapestries, and constant reiterations of the black sun heraldry everywhere.

I bet its humongous!

[Kevasha]

A secretive fangy smile from the warlock at the mention of it being his home. Could it be he had something up those fine tailored sleeves of his? They continued to walk when a stern voice gave the small party cause to halt for a moment.

"Alexandria...the boy has returned I see?"

Before them was a man dressed in the finery of a noble, he was tall, his dark hair cropped to his shoulders, his eyes shining with a deep fel glow and a small scowl on his face as he regarded the three of them before letting his eyes rest on his only son.

That sharp gaze moved to Shira, eying her up and down, a sneer appearing on his face. "And who is this?" He moved to stand near to the two younger elves. "Hmph...a priest." He looked to his son sharply. "Explain boy.." But just as Pyron went to do just that, his father was yanked down roughly by his ear by none other than his mother.

"Il'hun! Don't be so rude! This is one of Pyron's friends and I'll not have you acting like a cur in front of her!" A growl came from the taller man as he leaned down to avoid getting his ear ripped off. Scowling, his mother twisted his ear further "What was that dear?" "Nngh, Nothing." She nodded satisfied with this answer before letting him go. "I thought so." She smoothed her dress and led the two on, leaving Il'hune behind them to tend to his smarting ear.

"Please forgive my husband, he can be a bit crude at times.."

After going up about two flights of stairs, she paused at two huge double doors. "Ah! Here we are. Feel free to use whatever you like dear!" She pushed the doors wide open and walked into the almost pitch black room and with a clap of her hands, the library was revealed. Pyron glanced at Shira to see her reaction to almost three stories of tomes and scrolls.

[shirafune]

The run in with Pryon's father had Shira's pulse thumping in her neck as the Lord of the House leaned in over her and scrutinized her like a particularly ugly clump of dirt that decided to cling to his dragonhawk leather boots. She didn't even get a chance to bow to him and explain her presence (but something in the back of her head did grate when he practically spat out her profession - that was a point of professional pride!) when his wife wrenched his ear between two long, wicked looking nails.

Bringing her husband to heel for his inhospitably attitude, the Lady Darksun lead them on past the cowed Lord of House and further into the house. Casting a look behind her to watch him stalk off, rubbing his now tender ear, Shira couldn't help but feel that the woman in front of her would probably at least earn a good laugh out of Horkugal.

Passing into the dark room, Shira could feel that it was large, just by the draft moving through it. The feeling of a cavernous space, even in the dark, was overwhelming. A sharp clap of hands ignited the arcane-lit sconces along the walls - fireless and proof against accidental arson - and Shira had to cover her hands to muffle the audible gasp.

Three. Stories. Tall. Shelves that reached up to the domed ceiling stuffed with books - old, new, thick, thin - and scrolls stacked in piles arm-deep and wide. It was at least three times the size of the Convent's, possibly four if she were to add the sheer height of the place into the equation. Head tilting up to look at the very tops of the shelves, the priest had to conquer a sense of vertigo before turning to the woman beside her and bowing deep.

"Th-thank you, Lady Darksun! Thank you so much!"