It was then, in those moments of longing silence that he truly contemplated on all he’d done in his life. He remembered signing up for the title of Paladin on the first day, all being told how much potential they had, how well they would be, how much they would overcome in their generation. It was an honour and a privilege to be fighting in the ranks for the City, Quenten knew, though of course he would have rather helped by other means. Perhaps by collecting resources or gathering essentials, sharpening tools or crafting armours. But the blonde had caught his eye from day one, and he intended to follow her until the very end.
He had never been a fighter, really. He was good at it, yes, and he could pick it up, definitely, but there was nothing special; nothing that popped out. His speciality was healing, always healing, but even then he was just average; nothing to be proud of, nothing to marvel or take after. Then, of course, there was Vic; she shone from day one, always there on the front row, learning new things, perfecting them to a tee. She was perfect at each and every single thing she did, and she made herself known for it. It was a blessing and a curse, truly; Quenten was happy for her, but it hurt to be put in the shadow of someone else. Being her best friend, then, meant that it was always the case for him. It was through no fault of their own; she was simply better at… well, anything.
Time passed, they grew up quickly, and soon they were out fighting. Love for the blonde woman had only grown over time, and he wondered if she even noticed it. She rose in the ranks and he simply watched, though she never did think twice about picking him to go with her, despite his lack of progress. Then, one day, things took bad turns; their City was in turmoil, their walls attacked, and Vic was off. Gone, running for the hills, and Quenten wished to follow. The crowds came quickly, though, and then she was lost. It was the one time he’d left her behind and he wished he never had done, for perhaps… perhaps in that moment, things could have been different.
They could have been happy if not for that moment.
Days later, he chose to go looking for her. He told his sister only, in pure secrecy, made her swear not to tell a soul and she had agreed. What a burden to put on a child at the time, but he was naive. Naive in everything he did, though luck was on his side that day. Waves of enemies came in by their thousands and, somehow, he managed to hold them off. He barely fought, he could remember, as he hadn’t held a sword in his hand for a long time. He had turned into a healer; a good healer, but nothing to be hailed, and it could be seen when he was finally knocked down after being pushed to his very limits.
Perhaps it was fate that the Lich King took Quenten under his wing, or perhaps it was pure torture. Quenten pleaded for life, pleaded for his beloved to be let go and he was only laughed at. He expected death, but instead was given a compromise. It wasn’t often that the King compromised, but compromise he did; he would be able to see his love, in return for his ‘co-operation’. Quenten instantly agreed. Against his own will was he struck, bound down and his will forced from his own being, but he still felt himself there. The Lich King could contact him as he did his other Knights, yet he had taken a risk; Quenten was fully aware, yet unable to control. He knew it was torture then; to be strung like a puppet, but being perfectly aware of what was taking place around him. As if the so-called King knew all of Quenten’s thoughts, knowing that he would be taken to be trained by the one he loved, and when he looked at her he could barely recognise her. Her eyes were cold, her demeanour dark; she no longer had the glowing look of a blood elf, but rather the face of a cold-hearted killer. She taught him everything she knew in that moment, working day in and day out until he could master it, and it did indeed take many days. It was the first time Quenten felt as if he’d actually achieved something in his life, truly; the glint in her eye was more than prominent to him in that moment, and it gave him a glimmer of hope.
The time came then for battle, and Quenten ran with her. His fear was prominent, but somehow she knew. She stood by him the entire way, fighting alongside him and he knew he would be safe. It was a big price to pay; losing his life’s work just so he could see the woman he loved, but he paid it nevertheless. Everything they did, they did together. Every fight and battle she went to, he was there. Life was simply repeating itself; she was hailed to be the best, and he stood behind and smiled, hoping that disappointment wouldn’t seep through.
There lay the doubt; as he said, he was no fighter. Yet he followed her right through until this very moment, and he was asked: “Was it worth it, Quenten?”
It was as if he could hear his mother’s shaky words piercing the quiet air once more after Quenten had shared his story, and he had contemplated it then too. But, just as it happened now, a feeling of warmth and contentment came just at the thought of the blonde who had infatuated his being from the very start. He could feel her lips press to his own, and he knew.
“Of course it was worth it,” He would say to them all in confidence. “I did it for love.”
Those words she spoke filled his entire being and he knew he couldn’t regret any of it. He couldn’t be selfish for her, he couldn’t pull her down in the way Sylvanas had told him to. He couldn’t be angry at her for, truly, she had only done what she thought to be right. How it made Quenten feel was up for him to decide, and if people called him a fool for it, then he was glad to play the fool. His lips moved against her own for the longest time possible for he was afraid to pull away, yet he shouldn’t have been. Confidence should have been sky high, but he wished not to let her go. Yet he knew that she would never leave, even if she wanted to. Neither of them would.
“If I could, I would throw it all away right now; the titles, the swords, the armour, all of it. I would do that and then find a place for us to live, and we could make a family. You and me, Vic. We could be happy, you know? I just want you to be happy…”
It seemed so simple, the way he spoke about dropping everything just to be with her. It as if nothing else had ever mattered to him and it was as overwhelming as it was flattered. Tiny droplets of pure water fell onto her eyelashes and ran down her cheeks as she contemplated his words. Somewhere inside her mind, she felt the truth of the ease he spoke of. To let go of the tragedy and just live within happiness, surely it was enough for anyone. However, she wasn’t just anyone. When she had been a young elf, watching people training from her window, she knew what she had wanted to do. Never had she wanted to be the type to be famous for her skinning skills or her mining capabilities. Even if everyone was required to be up to par, she wanted to be known for something else. Victrola had always wanted to be a fighter, a protector. The idea of war and bloodshed, it excited her.
When Quenten mentioned having a family, she knew that she’d no longer be able to wield a blade for she would have busied hands for their offspring. It wasn’t that she didn’t want kids, but she wasn’t sure if she was near ready to sacrifice everything she had built her life around. Of course the children would grow and she could train them, but it would never be the same. All the time and effort spent would just dissipate until people simply forgot that she had been the greats of knights every to walk in Azeroth. Even if she was one of the greatest, she was easily replaceable in their world. Family had always been important to her, but she knew far too well what it was like to lose them. The idea that she could inevitably lose her own kin to war frightened her down the very depth of her soul.
With watchful eyes, she studied his face and refused to shatter his most obvious happiness. For her, it was merely the fear of the unknown that she had her silent once more. In the end, she was a survivor. It was rooted deep within her to survive any and all situations given to her for she wasn’t weak. If for some odd reason she went with him, bore his children and never looked back—she knew she would make it. Yet, she simply had no clue as to what to expect.
Carefully, she maneuvered her arms until she could reach up and take his face into her own grasp. Swallowing, she contemplated everything. Even if at first she hadn’t loved him as he had loved her, it had grown to be a part of her. Now, the love she held for him was inevitable and she wasn’t so willing to just throw it all away for war and bloodshed. With tender strokes, she felt the grooves of his face and wondered what he was truly thinking when he looked at her. Not in words so much, but she wondered how he felt as his eyes took her in. Was she capable of the same emotion or was she robbing him of the chance for someone who could love him as he so deserved to be loved. A defeated sort of sigh left her lips and she shook her thoughts away, shrugging her shoulders because she was so confused within her own self.
“I,” she started a bit quietly, “am happy Quenten. To an extent, the life I live makes me happy. Though, you know that. You wouldn’t have followed me all those years had you not known that. I cannot imagine a life where I’d not be… me. I face fear on a daily basis, this you know. Yet, I’m terrified to face the desires you have because—cause I’m not sure if I could ever be what you wish me to me. To be a mother, a wife… that’s something I do not understand.” Every word was spoken slowly, as if she was uncertain of what she was saying. She needed him to understand that she wasn’t saying no, but she wasn’t saying yes either. “All I want is to continue on as we have been, but with this better understanding of love. I don’t care about the people or what they think or say. I want them all to know that I am yours and you are mine. If by marriage, then so be it. I don’t, however, want to just stop this life and settle in some cottage down the lane. That, my sweet Quenten, won’t make me happy. Even though I know it would make you happy. We’ve got to find the compromise within the troubles. We’ve done it before and we can do it again.
“It doesn’t take a lot to make me happy, but I won’t go to some house and sit idly while you go round collecting things for our life. I wasn’t born to be a skinner, a chef or any of those other things. Not that there is anything wrong with those because I appreciate the blacksmiths who forge my armor and the gathers who collect the food I eat. Without those people, I couldn’t be me. Though, without people like me, who would protect our city, our people, and our home?” Fingertips stopped at the nape of his neck, pressing into the notches of his spine as she gazed deeply into his eyes. Despite his eyes being fashion from death and ice, they held the warmth they once had when he had been just a young boy. That was the good thing about him, he never really changed. Death and rebirth unto evil hadn’t even done such a thing.
“But that doesn’t mean I won’t try because I will, I will try for you. Never in all my life have I loved someone in the way that I love you. Not even my family. We had been close, but you know I was always waiting for an out from that life. Maybe it’s because my family was so dysfunctional and torn apart, but either way I needed that outlet and I found it. I was made into an angry girl, one who had to fight for everything to live each day. My brothers who were older pestered and bullied me, taking the things I had earned as their own and claiming my victories as failures. I was tired of living in the shadow of them, I deserved more.” As she spoke, a realization struck her.
Quenten had been hinting to this sort of life for a long time. When they first started mining, she had complained tragically because she hated it to the very depth of her core. Yet, he always teased and said it wasn’t so bad. It had been the same with skinning, collecting the herbs for the apothecaries and even down to the blacksmithing. Those things were the things he did best. Yet, she always outshined those small feats with her victorious strides in training. He was always in her shadow, but she tried to not make it so. In every challenge, she had taken him as her partner and it was because she knew she could do anything with him. Not because she pitied him or thought him to be weak. Quenten was anything but weak. They were the perfect pair and always had been. Closing her eyes, she leaned up a bit and touched her forehead to his. “But I will try for you. I would do anything for you, Quenten. You must understand that by now. I know I’ve not always shown it and I’ve lead a life that’s not always something to be proud of, but I wasn’t as well liked as you had been.
“Whereas you were the good guy everyone loved, I was the warrior everyone respected. Once I turned to death and power, that respect was gone. Every single day, I have to prove who I am. I’m not ready to be done with gaining back my place in this world. If by some chance you… stick your bun in my oven, I will take it as it comes. Please, understand—as much as it confuses even me. I want this, I want you, but I want other things too.”
He’d been spending a lot of time with his family as of late, simply because he’d missed them. For the longest time he had been considering exactly what it was that made him… well, him. He’d been out fighting, winning countless battles, making a true name for himself after years of feeling insignificant, yet it was just that; insignificant. He felt no different than he had when he was starting out as a wee boy; pressured, vulnerable, unworthy. It was an overwhelming thing to feel, truly, which is exactly why he decided to come home and spend time with family; explain some things to them that were long overdue.
Of course, coming home was always a bad thing. His parents never did look at him the same after what he’d done; running off to join the side of evil, simply for power… or, well, that’s what they had assumed and believed. Quenten didn’t enjoy lying, but for the sake of his love he chose to, but after a long amount of thinking, discussing and contemplating, he knew it was time to tell them the complete and honest truth, right from the bottom of his heart.
That evening of his return, during a feast fit for a King, prepared by his own two hands, he gave his explanation and full apology. He’d dishonoured their name, well and truly, and he’d done it for love. Down to every ounce of detail, he shared what he experienced and what truly happened on the day he went missing. It was an emotional time for all of them, and of course he was criticised, but he had told them the truth; it was no justification for the lives he’d taken of his own people, but it was a step in the right direction. Harsh words were exchanged, tears were shed, and after what seemed like an eternity he had earned a hug from his mother and a pat on the shoulder by his father. It brought a warming sensation to his otherwise cold heart, and from there times with the family only improved.
He went fishing with the old man, collected crops and hides with his mother and helped his sister with her skill. Of course, she pried and pried and pried some more, asking why he’d come back, asking how he was doing and asking how Vic was, and he promised her to never leave such things from her again. With that, he told her his troubles; of how he wished to tell her of the love he held, and her eyeroll was expected. “Stop being an idiot, Quenten.” She said, and he laughed as they continued on; her message was more than clear.
About a week in he told the family that he was travelling around the area, simply to collect thoughts, to which they agreed. On his person there was no armour, no blade of any kind, just normal clothing fit for a citizen. It was freeing to be in such minimal clothing, and he embraced it fully. Choosing to simply follow the pathway around, he glanced upon each and every intricate detail of the place he once called home, and the place still felt very much like home. It brought memories of better times to mind; times before things got really bad; times before things started changing around them, right before their eyes. He wished for those times to return, but not even he could control time. Perhaps he’d consider giving the Aspects a visit; perhaps they could change things.
For now, though, relaxation was key, and the one place to relax would be near one of the waterfalls. Quenten didn’t know what made him so calm around it, yet whatever it was about the clear waters of Eversong Woods, he was glad about it. As he approached one of his favourites, however, he noticed an obstruction within the flowing waters, and he chose to investigate. As he stepped closer, armour was found spread across the area and he recognised it instantly. Upon closer inspection he confirmed to himself that it was indeed Vic standing between the flowing waters, and it brought a small smile to his face.
He considered, for a moment, what it would be like if they collectively agreed to simply stop. To stop and stay exactly where they grew up, recognising their roots and their cause, perhaps even more. Call him a hopeless romantic, but it was what he had always wished for, even if he wasn’t the best at showing it. Choosing not to strip himself down, he stepped into the warm waters and coiled his delicate arms around her frame, pulling her in as he placed kisses upon her neck for a mere moment whilst whispering.
“Someone told me that I should be really mad at you, but honestly… I never could be. But did you know that part of me wants to be? Part of me wants to be so mad and frustrated at you, but I can’t do it, and that only frustrates me more. Then you look at me with those eyes and give me that smile and the frustration just melts away, and then it comes back because I know you can do that to me. I know you can do that to me and i’m not even sure if I can do the same to you. I’m not ever sure if I can satisfy you, or cater for you, or love you in the way you seem to want to be satisfied, catered and loved. I feel all of this frustration and I know that I should be mad at you, I know it and yet I can’t do it, because I love you.” Fleur had told him to just be honest; to just tell her and hope that it worked out. After all, he was her brother. That was what he chuckled at. Turning her around, he placed his forehead onto her own as he looked into her eyes, feeling that reaction all over again as calmness came over him, though he never had gotten angry to begin with.
“What will it take to make you realise that? Do I have to do what i’ve been told? Do I have to be mad at you for you to realise that I love you? Do I have to tell you how I feel when I know you’re sleeping with other people; men and women, because I can. It makes me feel like i’m not good enough for you… like i’m the smallest dot in your life when I know you consider me your only equal. When you’re called to big raids and battles, do you want to know how I feel? I worry about your return, and yet I can’t be mad because I see how pleased you are, how happy you are that you’ve done so well and I just have to smile about it and hope you come back okay, and then I wonder if you feel the same about me when i’m gone, when I know that you do, and you always have done. When I see that people use you for your talent and you agree, that makes me mad too. So damn mad because these people don’t see you the way I see you; you’re a pawn to them rather than a person, and it annoys me, but then I know that you see it too. That it’s just business but with you I can’t help but think it’s personal. Anything and everything people do to you, it’s personal… to you and to me, in my eyes.” He spoke with calming tones, and he could only hope she took no offence; it wasn’t a piece to be offended by, by any means, though one never knew. Somehow, he spoke on.
“I don’t think i’ve ever been a fighter, Vic. Part of me thinks I wasn’t even that good at healing either, but you were there, you know? Even as a kid I loved you, I just… I always have. As family, as a friend, as a lover… it’s always been present, regardless of what type of love it was. But, well… I always did just have one wish. I just wanted us to marry and have a family, so that we could have something to fight for. So that we could get truly involved in the cause; fight for what was right. Fight for our people, knowing who we were protecting and what flag we stood under. Those would be stories worth telling my kids, you know? They’d see me as a hero… i’d be their number one. That was my dream… but, you know, things change. But… my dreams haven’t really changed. More than anything in the world, I just want to be number one to someone. I want someone to see me as their guy, a good guy… it’s all I want. I want to be their number one; your number one. Regardless if I had to die for it, eat dirt, lick the floor, do all the dishes, massage Garrosh’s back for the rest of my life… even if I didn’t want to do it, I would do it anyway. It seems like i’m a bit of a pushover, but i’m trying not to see it that way… and it doesn’t really feel that way, either.” He took a deep breath as he brought his hands up to cup either side of her face before he spoke his final words.
“Just… say you love me, Vic. Whether you mean it in that way or not, I just want to feel it. If you tell me to fuck off afterwards, that’s fine, I just… I need to feel it once. I implore you…” His lips hovered over her own as he trailed off, and in the same instant did he press his lips to hers to bring her the softest of kisses. He lingered there for as long as he could possibly muster until breath was needed, and only then did he pull away as he looked at her longingly, hoping for something, anything from her.
It was all he needed then.
The warm water washed over her body, rinsing the grime and sweat away only to disappear into thin air. If only the waterfall could do the same for her guilt, her troubles, her worries, her sorrows and everything else she carried with her day in and day out. As she scrubbed her face with the tips of her fingers, she tried not to think about everything and yet it was impossible. Those sorts of thoughts never left her, no matter how much she begged, pleaded or prayed. If only for a single night she could have some peace, some calm amongst the thoughts that consumed her, but it was the price she paid for her life or lack thereof. When her skin felt raw, she dropped her hands to the stone wall before her and leaned against it. Its cool exterior was contrasting to how she felt, but she welcomed the difference. Within its chill, she found solace calling her home. It only brought one thing to her mind and then she felt even guiltier than before.
An image of him danced to the forefront of her thoughts, blinding her to anything else. It was so real, she swore she could smell his natural musk all around her. Victrola told herself she could be strong, telling herself it was all but a fantasy. Reeling from the smell in the air, she pulled her palms away from the stone and wrapped them around her lithe self. Yet, she felt another set of arms encase her body and hold onto her as if he was meant to all his life. Lips touched against the soft skin of neck, making her sigh in need. It all felt so real. As much as it was a dream, it was a nightmare too. The idea of how she felt about Quenten scared her. It scared her so much so that she avoided him, avoided the honest truth about what his eyes said. A big part of her wished to just surrender unto him, to give into temptation and allow herself to fall in love. Though, there was that small part still lingering in her that craved power and strength. Things that part of her believed she could only gather on her own for the path to power was a lone winding road. There was no time for love or emotions.
Water continued to rain over her, weighing heavy upon the mirage she wished to believe in. However, words soon danced into the mist about her ears and she was shocked to find herself in reality. He spoke so calmly, as if the language of love was something he spoke fluently. Every word he spoke was a love story of the new age and it was what people wrote about for those who lacked love in their life. It was obscene and outlandish, but she didn’t really believe that. Quenten had loved her since the moment he laid eyes upon her and she was so blind to him. It had been a choice for so long, but then she played into that when they were both in training to be Paladins. Victrola had thrived off his affectionate attention, found comfort in his arms and his sheets. Then something else came along and she was quick to dismiss him once more.
Once upon a time, she had lost everything. Her mother, her father and all her siblings save for one had been slayed without shame or mercy. If only she had found them earlier, perhaps she could have saved them from the tragedy that had stolen their lives from them. She had been known as the strongest, the most lethal and the fastest among all the other Paladins. Yet, time had not been on her side. A man with icy eyes that were hollow of all emotion held Gabe within his grasp and she hadn’t hesitated in making a trade with him to spare the life of all she had left. Once she mentioned her name, her rank and her status among her kind—it hadn’t even been questioned. The man took the deal, sent Gabe running back to Silvermoon City as he carried her to the inevitable death.
Yet, death had come and gone as she was reborn as the deadliest of warriors ever to exist within Azeroth as a whole. Death Knights, followers of the Lich King himself. In the midst of training, she was vicious and uncaring. It wasn’t long before she topped all her peers and stood out. Then something happened, something that would change the choice she had made forever. One cold day, she had come face to face with a new recruit and she wished she hadn’t. Quenten stood there, sadness in his eyes and all, waiting to do as he would have been told too. It had broken her from the peril of a soulless eternity and brought forth the part of her she once was. The lively girl who could laugh and be silly even when the world pleaded her to be serious, it had all slowly come back to her. It was also when she had realized several other things. The way the Lich King was truly, how he killed anyone and everyone—never the matter of good or evil, innocent or not. Quenten had never lost himself and a part of her knew why, but she hesitated admitting it.
Yet, it seemed he was tired of waiting for her to figure it out on her own for his words were the confession of the secrets he held inside for a long, long time. At first, she tried to pull away from him because she wanted out of his hold. It was suffocating her, strangling her to face a truth she wasn’t ready to face. Though, the more he spoke it seemed she finally started to listen. It seemed as if only seconds had passed when she was spun about his hold and forced to face him. Eyes met his and as he found comfort, she felt even more guilt than before. Hands grasped at her own side, nails digging into the grooves of her ribs as she tried to just—feel something aside from the guilt.
Tears welled along the rims of her lashes, blocking her vision for a moment before they rolled down and away. He needed it, needed her to say and she knew she should for it would save him the hurt and angst. Yet, she was mute in that moment. Every part of her was numb and she just wanted to melt away into the nothingness. Inside her mind, there were screams as shrill as banshees in the dead of night. It made her mind ache and she slammed her eyes shut, trying to focus on his words once more. Nothing he said was a shock, but she was being forced against her will to listen. It was bothersome to her, always being forced against her will to do the bidding of another. As if she was pawn in their game, to be played with and put away wet when they were done. Every bone in her body was weak and ragged. Victrola just wanted to run as far away as possible.
And then he kissed her, as if it was just any other moment they had shared and by some chance—she understood.
The pain she once felt melted off her shoulders, as well as the sorrows and the hindrances. His hands remained on her cheeks and she looked upon him with a new light. It was the sudden realization that she didn’t have to do it alone anymore. The world was no longer as daunting to take on. Victrola would never stop striving for the power and the strength she craved, but she wouldn’t have too. For all she knew, Quenten would follow her into the stars and beyond because he wanted too. Never would she have to ask it of him, it would just be.
Lips parted slightly, her breathing a bit more labored than it should have been. It was also when she realized that she was compressing her own lungs with her strength. Fingers opened and she took a much needed breath, feeling the relaxation of home seep into her. Eyes continued to search his and she knew she needed to speak, to confirm what he needed to hear. Her throat was dry though, her tongue was like sand. Why was it so hard for her to admit what her heart and mind felt? Why was her soul so determined to send into solitude for eternity? Eyes crinkled in the corners and she dropped her shoulders down, feeling defeated. No longer could she look at him for she was ashamed of herself. He was the bravest of all, admitting his love even despite the knowledge that rejection was most likely on the horizon. Couldn’t she be that for him, be what he wanted and needed her to be?
Everything in her whispered yes except for her soul, it was dead as the night, silent as the mute and refused to cooperate. It hurt her, the longer she was quiet. Iced eyes shut harshly and she licked her lips, willing herself to just… be honest. Seconds continued to tick on by, but she felt so small in his arms. After what seemed like forever, she looked up to him and opened her sad eyes to him. The look he had then, it was fear. And it was then she realized that she could lose him forever because she was being stupid and naïve.
“Of course I love you Quenten.” And best of all, she meant it.
The air was balmy and thick, cloying the atmosphere with the fragrances from all the hanging flowers of Eversong Woods. It was a wondrous smell, it one could get over the simple fact that it was also trying to suffocate everyone. Victrola pulled at her collar, loosening the armor she wore that felt too tight. It was sticking to her dampened skin and she wanted out of it. In fact, all she wanted was a shower. Though, the last place she wanted to venture to was home. Quenten stopped coming over as often. In fact, she couldn’t even remember the last time she had seen him. Her brother was always there, however, and she wasn’t in the mood for family bonding. Shoulders dropped as she paused along the pathway, pulling off her glove to wipe the sheen from her brow. Icecrown was off limits, but how she wished she could go back to the lands of snow and ice. Despite having been born unto the sun, she was fashioned from death and the heat simply didn’t go well with her. The summery air of her homeland was too much. It coated her skin in moisture, something she once basked in. Now, it was just a burden.
Yet, she wasn’t going back to the Undercity either. Sylvanas made it clear she was nothing more than a bitch girl, being flung left and right for her needs. That wasn’t what she had signed up for, but it was all that she was seen as. Victrola just wanted a moment, and she prayed she could bathe in that same one, to herself. If she wasn’t going to battle, to defeat the Lich King and all his mutated minions, she wouldn’t bother wasting any more time among death.
The sun was dipping down below the Ghostlands, painting her world a deep golden blue. It was a stunning color and the stars shone a pale green. It was as if the sky was littered with peridots and green amethysts all alight with fire. It was then she was reminded of the waterfall she and her brother had found as children. It was a mystical fountain of the purest water, but what made it special was the fact that the water disappeared once it hit the stones below. It was the only waterfall that didn’t have a pool underneath it to catch the shower. They had tried to discover the sorcery behind it, but it was one of the many secrets their world held. A sigh of utmost relief left her lips as she began the hike towards it.
An hour had passed before she reached it, but she couldn’t even care. Pieces of armor were flung from her body, peeled off her skin and dropped onto the mossy surface just under her feet. Once she stood in nothing save for a black pair of panties, she moved right under the fountain of crystal clear water. At first, it was pure ice on her skin and she shivered violently. As if it understood her wishes, it soon warmed up to a tolerable temperature and she felt perfectly relaxed. Hands ran over her hair, slicking it behind her elfish ears as she turned her face directly into the shower. It was the best decision she had made in a long while.
