Matchmaking

http://us.battle.net/wow/en/forum/topic/18300116991


It’d been several days since Kezrin visited Booty Bay. It’d been days since she’d been in anyplace for more than a few hours. The bossgnome was keeping her busy and not easily found, which meant either cooped up north at Solendenus’s estate, or doing so many deliveries few could say for certain where she was.

It was with both dread and relief that Kezrin remembered she still needed to contact Irilin Duskwhisper about his most recent AAMS request. Irilin was one of the few people she’d ever felt comfortable chatting with (so to speak) and she rather liked the calm energy of Moonglade, even if the druids there weren’t so pleased to have a goblin in their midst. It’d be definitely a break from the stress to head that way.

Yet it was with trepidation that she left the flight master's roost with a folder tucked under her arm, filled with her… no, the bossgnome’s recommendations to Irilin for a potential date. There weren’t many men Kezrin was willing to seriously consider, though there was one warrior fellow who seemed fairly promising. Trying to find a “match” for the poet had made Kezrin realize how very little she actually knew about him, or what he’d find suitable. It was possible he’d reject every candidate she proposed.

Kezrin had exactly one point of solid data for “men Irilin found attractive” and she was not very keen on setting him up with anyone like that again.

She adjusted the folder with a sigh and set about finding directions to the Duskwhisper abode. Which meant finding a druid. One who was hopefully awake. And knew whom she was talking about. And most importantly, where to find him.

At last she found a large tauren who seemed to fit the first two criteria.

It turned out… she didn’t need to worry so much about anyone not knowing who Irilin Duskwhisper was.

“He’s… what?” Her voice cracked on the question.

“I am quite sorry to break the news to you,” the tauren rumbled sympathetically, crouching low to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. Kezrin swatted it away like a reed striking a tree trunk. It wasn’t very effective, but the druid respectfully withdrew from her personal space.

He couldn’t be! No!

She numbly stared at the blades of grass, the longer ones curling over the tips of her shoes. Moonglade was never quite as cold as she expected. The air was humid… perhaps it had rained recently, or maybe it was the proximity to the lake… the air was still, far too still for her taste. It was much nicer at the beach and its constant breeze. She preferred the sounds of the oceans to all the birds chirping… she never really like birds.

The grass swayed as the tauren stood back to his full height.

“Tell me what happened,” she forced herself to speak.

A few hours later, she was sitting near a couple of stones, the small stack of papers getting smudged in the dirt beside her. With long practice and precision she folded the top sheet into a glider, then carefully launched it into the air. It sailed further than she expected before abruptly nosediving into the soil.

Another glider joined it soon, gaining a foot on its predecessor; there wasn’t any point in keeping the papers, after all.

A third. The druids would likely scold her for littering. They’d been quick enough to clean upafter Irilin, after all. But had they done anything to stop the fire? They were druids! Surely someone had noticed!

A fourth. Let them scold her. The papers were worthless. If she could, she’d burn them, too-

The glider disappeared in a burst of flames, ghostly white ashes drifting to the ground.

Something vaguely tugged at Kezrin’s awareness. Cautiously, she crumpled the next paper and tossed it into the air, willing the elemental to do as it wished. Another bloom of orange and wisps of ash. She suddenly knew that it would burn all of it if she asked.

The elemental was restless, uneasy. It needed something to do.

She tossed another crumpled paper; it became a short-lived spinning fireball. She made another glider and let it soar. This time, it burned slowly, the embers trailing from its edges like a firehawk. She was almost out of paper; she crumpled the rest up and threw them into the air at once.

They popped into small sparks, reminding her of midsummer’s fireworks. She almost giggled. Ash littered the ground around her. The smell reminded her of the candle she’d once given Irilin for his wedding that was scented like burning wood… one of her own favorites...

The small moment of fun dissipated. Irilin was dead, his home burned. Fire had taken away everything.

But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t happy about it, either.

“Thanks,” she whispered softly, curling up to rest her chin on her knees. “I hope Irilin didn’t mind the show. But I think I’d rather be alone, now.”

The presence lingered a few moments longer before fading away, leaving her in peace.