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𝓐 𝓕𝓮𝓵-𝓣𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼 World of Warcraft OCxOC Action/Adventure/Romance/Hurt/Comfort Chapter 4 “Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?” ― Garth Nix, Sabriel ~~

Time passes in the blink of an eye, a month gone before Vela can even register it. It doesn't feel quite real to her; she knows she's been busy, but the fact that the first month's rent is already due startles her. Still, she puts on a friendly smile when her landlady comes to collect the payment. The elderly orc woman grunts in response as Vela hands over the money and a bowl of homemade stew, carefully packed to preserve its warmth and flavor.

"It's an old family recipe," Vela says, beaming with pride despite the unimpressed look on the woman’s face. However, the landlady still accepts the bowl and tucks away the money. She gives Vela a quick once-over before grunting once again,

"Just make sure you keep up with your rent," she states before turning on her heel and walking away.

Unperturbed, Vela bids her a cheerful goodbye, waving before she shuts the door to continue with her morning routine. By mid-morning, her home is swept and clean, and she is fully dressed and equipped as she prepares to leave for the Wyvern's Watch Guild Hall. As she steps outside, she takes a deep breath of the warm morning air and hears her house key snap into place with a loud ker-chunk as she locks the door.

Her walk is a pleasant one, as always. She waves to her neighbors as she passes by, engaging in light conversation with an older troll man who gives her a friendly pat on the head and a small trinket to hang from her bag. A good luck charm of sorts, he explains as he ties it on tightly, meant to keep her safe and Vela treasures it all the more. As she nears the guild hall, the morning slowly transitions into afternoon and she can already hear the cheerful chatter and laughter from inside. Grix sits at the head of the table and returns her wave eagerly as Vela finds a spot nearby to claim for herself.

“Ah so the Lady Nae’mora decides to grace herself with her presence!”

In an instant, Vela's cheerful demeanor fades away. She lets out a small sigh and tries to ignore the annoyed twitch in her jaw as she musters up a smile and looks up. A handsome elf stands above her, a smirk playing on his lips. "I've told you before," she says with forced pleasantness, "Lord Riverblade, please don't call me that."

Nal'thel Riverblade, the youngest son of House Riverblade, takes the empty seat next to Vela and his robes settle around him gracefully. He runs a hand through his long black hair and inhales deeply, taking in the scent of breakfast lingering in the air before giving her a sly look from the corner of his eye. “Ah, but it makes teasing you so much fun!”

Vela's face contorts into a scowl as she watches Nal'thel reach for some food from the table. She notices Xander making his way through the crowd, his movements so smooth and quiet that he could almost be a shadow. His gaze is fixed on the ground as he walks, but Vela perks up at the sight of him. She stands halfway out of her seat and waves an arm in greeting.

"Xander!" He looks up, his expression almost unreadable behind the half mask covering his lower face. But Vela can see his brows furrow. She calls out again, "Come join us!"

For a brief moment, he seems to consider it before simply ignoring her and walking away. Vela can't help but slump back into her seat with a sigh. Nal'thel chuckles beside her.

"I have to give you credit, you never know when to give up."

"He hates me," Vela sighs. Nal'thel shrugs.

"Well, you were late on your very first mission together. And let's not forget about that incident with the caravan where the guild had to cover for your mistake in guarding it. Oh, and remember when you accidentally set his favorite cloak on fire?"

“You don’t have to rub it in, Thel.” Vela grumbles.

"But," Nal'thel points out, "He still trains with you every day, and he's the one who makes sure you get jobs. So he can't hate you THAT much."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Is it working?" Nal'thel grins mischievously, causing Vela to begrudgingly admit,

"Unfortunately, yes."

"See? You have nothing to worry about. Besides, everyone knows Xander is just...not a people person."

Vela wrinkles her nose in frustration. "But that doesn't mean everyone should go out of their way to deliberately exclude him."

Nal'thel shrugs again. "It's just how he is. He likes his solitude.”

Nal'thel's dismissive response only adds to her growing frustration, but she holds back from saying anything more as Xander retreats to his usual spot in the shadows of the guild hall. Her heart aches as she watches him go. In the warm light of the hearth she sees a familiar loneliness. How many times has she longed for someone to care, just sit with her and share quiet moments? Looking at Xander, she sees what she has seen too often before: an indifferent world moving on, its gaze sliding past him as if he was invisible.

With determination, Vela rises from her seat and grabs her plate and bag before making her way over to Xander's table. She sets down her things next to him, meeting his blank gaze with fierce determination. She hears a muttered curse and the sound of robes rustling as Nal'thel joins them, but Xander continues with his task at hand - sharpening his blade. Vela proceeds to eat her breakfast in silence, hoping that at least it is a comfortable one.

Or at least until Nal’thel ruins it.

“So, any progress on that pirate you’re supposed to be tracking down, Lady Nae’mora?”

If looks could kill, she’s sure that Nal’thel would be a puddle on the floor, but he seems blithely unaware of the withering glare Vela gives him. She scowls at her food and shakes her head, acutely away that Xander is nearby, and now more than likely listening.

“No,” Vela grumbles through grit teeth, “But you already know that, Thel.”

Unfazed, Nal’thel shrugs, “True. But I only asked because you exhausted every lead in Ratchet.” He smirks and playfully pokes her shoulder. “Perhaps brute-forcing your way through your inquiries wasn’t the best approach? Most people don’t like admitting they have dealings with pirates, Vela.”

“Wait.” Xander lifts his gaze from the blade resting on his thighs, skewering Vela with a piercing look. "You asked everyone in Ratchet about this pirate?"

"And the dockhands too, inquiring about his ship," Nal'thel adds.

“And it didn’t occur to you that there might be people working with, or hiding this pirate?” Xander, direct as a thrown dagger, probes further. "Why were you given a bounty that is clearly beyond your capabilities?"

Heat floods her cheeks. Nal’thel’s voice scrapes against her skin. Xander’s eyes hold nothing but judgement.

Fraud.

Stupid.

Worthless.

You can’t do anything right, can you?

Vela flounders for an excuse—a shred of something to say—but all she can do is lower her eyes in humiliation.

You will never be good enough.

“The Order has its own logic,” Nal’thel shrugs, stuffing his mouth with food. “Plain truth is it's her duty and she has eleven months to deliver. If not, at best they’ll show her the door.”

“And at worst?” Xander grunts roughly.

She can't muster the courage to face Nal’thel’s expression. She knows too well what failure could mean—imprisonment or death by the Order's decree.

“Do you have any other places to look?” Xander asks, returning his attention back to his sword and running the whetstone across the edge.

"Well..." Vela hesitates, her voice small and unsure. "There's always Booty Bay. It's the only other place I can think of."

“Could always go to Freehold.” Nal’thel suggests, “That’s the next best place to look aside from Booty Bay. And more liable to turn up a lead since Felbrine did sail for the Alliance during the Fourth War and all. Ya know, since Kul Tiras is Alliance territory.”

"Throw her into a den of wolves," Xander grumbles, his brow furrowed in frustration. “It would be the same result.”

As they continue to bicker as if she were invisible, Vela tightens her grip on her trousers until her knuckles turn white. She bites down on her trembling lower lip, trying to keep the tidal wave of shame at bay. They don't need to remind her that she’s woefully unprepared for this hunt—it's a reality that haunts her every waking moment.

Stupid

So stupid to think she could ever do this. Who was she kidding?

Worthless

Failed as the perfect bride, and now she can’t be the perfect Blood Knight to bring pride to her family.

Fraud! You can’t do anything right. You should have killed yourself when you had that chance, and saved your family the shame.

Panic washes over her in relentless waves, dragging her back into the dark abyss of memory. A numbing chill seeps up her arms. Her throat constricts, suffocating each breath.

The scent of flowers still lingers on her hands. The feel of bridal white still imprinted on her skin. The taste of tears still fresh on her lips.

Abruptly, Vela shoves away from the table. The chair skids and topples behind as she bolts out from the guild hall into open air—gulping down sobs and gasps in desperate rhythm with her racing heart.

Banging at the door echoes in her ears. Her dress pools around her like a puddle of moonlight as she crumples onto the cold stone floor. The hilt of a dagger heavy in trembling hand, its point pressing against vulnerable flesh above beating heart—just one thrust... just one...

Her brother’s cries filter through only when the dagger is wrenched away from her grasp; his tear-streaked face blurred by hers—overflowing with shame and despair.

“Jiraan,” she chokes out between sobs, “I can’t!”

Nal'thel finally finds her crouched in a dirty back alley of Orgrimmar, just as the sun dips below the horizon. She doesn't know how she ended up there, but she can hear his robes rustling as he sits down next to her. There is an uncomfortable silence before she finally whispers,

“How do I get to Freehold?”

“I don’t—-” He pauses, studying her face before continuing, "Are you absolutely certain?"

“I don’t have a choice.” Vela says simply, “You said it yourself. I have less than a year. I have to do this, Thel… I have to, or I—”

I really am a failure…

"Fine," Thel concedes after a moment of contemplation, "Fine. I have some connections in the Kirin Tor who owe me favors. I can help you get to Kul Tiras and possibly even provide you with a cover story. I’ll take care of everything while you’re gone…”

And all Vela can do is nod, numb to the fact she’s plunged herself into the unknown without so much as a second thought.

#my writing #world of warcraft rp #wow rp #blood elf #world of warcraft #monster romance #monster bf #monster boyfriend #he's a demon hunter so it technically counts?#They bind themselves to demons so imma say it counts

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