A Prod in the Right Direction

[Omy]

“Has it ever occurred to you, that you might be wrong about this kind of thing?”

Omy chuckled, not looking up from the workbench strewn with various bolts, gears, wires...and a box that looked like a man whose head had been nearly severed. Wires and various bit's poured from the open 'wound', spreading out on the table. Her army of tools waiting in various arrays and piles. Omy was gently soldering somethings together, a few flying sparks from live wires spitting reflected off the lenses of her goggles.

“Never.” She told the medic hovering nearby.
Nariin sighed, her hands folded in front of her. “I do not think it is 'just going to go away', Commander.” She said, trying again.
Omy opened her mouth to say something gib, but Nariin cut the night elf off, “Yes that is my official, medical opinion, NO I do not think you need a second opinion and NO, a 'little time off' is not going to fix this.”
Omy paused, a grin pulling at her face. The priest might have been completely naive, and awkward around people that weren't patients...but she sure learned quickly. Now, if only she could get the draenei to actually fight on the battlefield...
“Commander...” The soft urgency in the young woman's voice drew Omy's full attention. “..this is very serious.”
Omy pouted. “Why do you think I 'lured you away' from the Argent Dawn, as they would say. I have no intention of falling to this, I assure you.” She flashed a smile at her before turning back to her work. “I know you're doing all you can, Rinny, and I believe in your accredited genius. In the meanwhile, I'm going to keep going, hn?” Omy cleaned the end of her tool on a beaten piece of cloth before setting it down, picking the box up with gentle fingers. “No sense in moping about now is there...” She eased the box shut, the pieces clicking together.
“Even if the wound on your back were not a worry, there is that bolt of shadow you foolishly-”
“-hey!-”
“-took to the chest. Your skin may have healed but there are threads of shadow still wrapped around your heart I have yet been able to dissolve...” The priest looked like she was going to push the subject matter further, but her curiosity won out in the end. She fixed her glasses, leaning over the table. “What IS that anyway?”
“Weeeeelll...” Omy tossed the box between her hands a few times, before holding it up to the fire light, lifting her goggles from her eyes. Nariin was momentary distracted by the dark circles that were gathering there, but she stopped herself from saying anything. “...it's either the new engine for our next tonk derby....or....a bomb-” Here she was interrupted by a little gasp from Nariin “-I don't remember though.” A smirk tugged at her lips.

“H-how do you just, FORGET something like that, C-Commander?!” The woman demanded, stepping back from the table.
“Oh reeeeelax..” Omy chided, waving her hand. “Even if it's a bomb...it's not going to just, blow up! HA! That'd be silly.” Her laughter died off after a moment, her face falling into a mask of well crafted honesty... “then again, there was that one I made in Feathermoon, the one that Kirin nudged the wrong way...” She slid her goggles up to rest on the top of her head, silver bangs askew, “...put a hole right through the roof that the Sentinel's were NOT happy with...” She muttered, looking at the device thoughtfully.
Nariin instantly threw barriers up around the two of them, Omy dissolving into a fit of laughter even as the comforting warmth of the priest's magic eased some of the ache in her limbs. She hadn't been truthful with her Medic, not at all. Even as the woman fixed her with that stare that only one vested in keeping the stubborn alive could muster....Omy didn't regret such an omission. Nariin hadn't spoken a word about her troubles with Anechka, her sister. But, Omy had 'stumbled' across the sibling's heated argument on the steps of the cathedral..and she didn't wish to cloud the woman's thinking anymore than it already was. If Omy was ever to be rid of the wound upon her back, she would need a focused Nariin. Information that dire was best doled out...when the time was right. An extra push in the right direction when needed.

An oft quiet part of her brain whispered treacherously between her thoughts; admit you don't want to worry the girl... it teased. Omy slit it's throat, kicking it's lifeless corpse into the darkness at the back of her mind.

She set the box down on the table, grinning in that lopsided fashion that all rogues and scoundrels were doomed to master, and pressed a button on the side. There was the sound of whirling, scratching, very faint like the gentle wind through treetops...

“Rinny?”
“Y-yes, Commander?” She was still eying the box with distrust. The barriers faded, the soft glow giving way to an ache that started it's slow, daily creep up from the small of her back. Omy ignored it.
“What did you think of that book I found for you? What was it, that one that was part of a series?” She sat back in her chair, eyes watching not the slow wind of the box on the table, but the priest who stood beside her.
The woman's face lit up, the happiness of a subject well loved lending a smooth confidence to her words. “Tales of the Triad! That is the series Omy, the book you found me? This, 'Story of Haren the Mage' is quite rare actually! Most copies were destroyed when Lorderon fell.” Her voice rose a little, her hands coming free from each other to gesture. “Some say, that hidden in the pages of these books are rare methods and herbal mixtures that were past down among a great family of doctors. They cured many ills in their days, things that were thought un-curable. Some scholars think, that if there IS a cure to the plague, that it might be found by studying these stories! The story itself is just, amazing Commander, it-”
Omy just smiled. She sat back in her chair, letting the draenei gush. There were little moments like this that she couldn't kill. The after patrol drinking the Watch did...the reason for the fishing trips, the tonk derby...the conversations and laughter...
Sometimes Omy needed to remind herself why she was spending time doing all this. Sometimes, Omy needed something to balance out the 'heroes' that rode by while Horde hacked at her Watch. Those that looked down on her due to race...or skill...or profession...who seemed to think she was up to no good just because of the shadows she kept...

The grin she wore while Nariin continued on softened, dipping a bit into the tired ghost that hadn't left her side since the end of the Third War. She hadn't noticed it for awhile...running along side Alec and his Falcons...but, since the Watch had formed, for all the good it was doing and would continue to do...there was still-

“....Commander?”

Omy blinked, sitting upright suddenly.

“What were you thinking about?”

The rogue smiled brightly to outshine the worried look that hovered behind the priest's glasses. “Oh, sorry Rinny. I must have spaced out a little.” She reached across the table and pressed the button on the box again, the little whirling sounds slipping to a stop. “Probably should get working on that sleep you keep telling me I need, eh?”
Nariin sighed in relief. “If anything stuck I am glad that did.” She rested a hand on her hip, looking for all the world like...some sort of...mother. Omy pulled a face, which only made the draenei giggle.

Grumbling to herself in gnomish, Omy set about cleaning up the tabletop, while Nariin dug about in one of the cabinets for something. She had just wrapped up all her tools, when Nariin offered a few small vials of clear liquid up under her eyes.
“..what are these?”
“Medicine. Better, than what I gave you last week. It should keep the wound from growing anymore than it has..and these...” she passed over a small bag. “..will help with your heart.”
Why was it that my best friends these days are always doctors? Omy paused for a moment before wrapping her fingers around them. “...thanks Rinny.”
“My pleasure, Commander. With just one wound things would be hard enough, but with all three in such a relatively short period of time...your body is working very, very hard to fight the combination off. I would tell you to take things easy...but..”

The liquid reflected well, firelight licking up the side of the glass tube as the rogue looked them over. She was going so soft, taking medicine from someone without asking what was in it. “...no place to go but forwards...” She said, frowning at the little vials for a moment before tucking them away, the bag following. Strange, the places life was taking her.

“Don't forget to close up after I leave.” Omy reminded her, slinging her knapsack over her shoulder.
“But, how will you get in if lock up the Compound?”

Omy stared.

“O-Oh! Right!” Nariin giggled a little, “Riiiight, never mind that.”
Omy shook her head before heading out into the cool air of Elywn Forest, waving goodbye over her shoulder as she went.
“OH! Commander! Wait!”

Omy turned, Nariin standing in the doorway with a soft smile.
“May the Naaru bless you, Commander.” The tattoos covering the woman's neck and arms glowed softly as she spoke a few words, Omy feeling the gentle touch of protection settle over her shoulders.
“And Commander?”
Omy raised an eyebrow.
“Be careful.
“Always.” She bowed before slipping backwards into the shadows.

[Omy]

The tired Kaldorei did a patrol around the Tiller Compound once all the lights had winked out and Nariin had gone to bed. Satisfied she crossed the camp, roused Calcifer from the stables and gave him a good groom, talking quietly with him in gnomish. The night was crisp in a way that only happened in the Eastern Kingdoms, a few of the workers of the lumber camp still out by means of lantern light. She watched them walk about, feeding Calcifer one of Daigil's Hillsbrad apples.
She knew what she had promised about sleeping...but there were reasons for lying.

“Mind if we take a little trip, Cal?” She asked quietly, after the happy crunching had stopped. The horse nudged her with his nose, snorting. She smiled, stroking the side of his neck. “Won't be a long one, I promise.” She ran her hands over the animal's sides and back, looking for cuts or wounds. “Just going to go look for someone...” The horse knocked a hoof against the ground, turning it's head to look at her with one, giant brown eye. Omy blinked. One of her kin had tried to suggest that the horse was less intelligent than any mistsaber, and that Omy was putting herself in terrible danger by relying on it so. But...Omy had never felt that way. She certainly didn't feel that way now.
“It'll be fine.” She said, checking her saddle before slipping it on Calcifier. She tightened and checked the girth, patting the animal's neck comfortingly before putting on his bridle.
They walked out of the stable together, Omy casting another wary eye around the compound. Something wasn't sitting right with her tonight. Not at all. The feeling wasn't unusual...Omy could remember the other instances with clarity as she swung herself up onto Calcifer's back. She hadn't felt something so...keen, since the weeks preceding Alec's murder. Her horse shifted under her, sensing her unease...
“It's alright.” She said softly, trailing fingers though his mane. She gently eased Calcifer into a walk, maneuvering out onto the road....but the feeling still persisted. She shook her head, pulling him gently to a stop but Calcifer flicked his head free of her hold, Omy letting the reigns slip through loose fingers.
“What?”
He snorted.
“...feel it too huh.”
Omy looked out at the long shadows cast by the tiny trees of Elywn Forest, but saw nothing. She made up her mind.
“Let's keep moving. Rana might be in Redridge tonight.” She nudged him into a building gallop, letting Calcifier pick his own speed down the quiet road. She enjoyed the ride, the rushing wind drowning out her worries for the brief series of moments, Omy moving in harmony with her steed. The thick trees gave way to the redder grass and soiled hills of the neighboring area, Omy passing through Three Corners without seeing another soul upon the road. At the bridge they slowed, Omy dismounting outside the town.
“Stay within ear shot, Cal. Just in case.” She patted his neck, the animal untroubled by the relatively short run. She left him with another apple from her pack and the crisp waters of the docks.

Inside the inn, Omy made some light inquiries...but no one had seen the paladin or her companion yet. Grabbing a drink from the barkeep, Omy climbed up on the roof of the inn and settled into her favorite perch, eyes scanning the area for sign of the brightly armored woman. Even here the feeling was no better..Omy pulled a battered flask from inside her tabard, untwisting the cap and pouring the drink from the barkeep into it. She had a few letters from Rana. Requests to speak, mostly, but she could never seem to find the woman unless they were fighting Horde together, and then there wasn't the time to talk. She had been much too busy running A.R.M.S last week to really speak either... Omy took a sip, feeling the burn slip down her throat...so she sat like a gargoyle on top of the Redridge inn looking for Horde or for Rana...whichever came along first. Usually the Hor-
There is was again! But, sharper this time. Closer. Omy fought the natural urge to turn around. Years and years of shadow spoke to her, years of knives and ambushes and brushes with death made the tingle that pricked the back of her neck....
...someone was watching her for sure.
Eye's narrowed behind her goggles, the elf taking another sip from her flask. The roof was a rather open, un roguish choice...if someone was going to take a shot at her it would be ranged and from the trees-
She felt the weight of the roof shift, the small nearly inaudible slip of an old tile being depressed by the soft and well placed boot of her would-be assassin. The right ear twitched and Omy's fingers started the slow crawl towards the weapon's at her belt--

“I wouldn't.” Came the even leveled voice of warning even as something sharp and cold rested against the side of her neck. Omy paused, lifting her hands away from her weapons, her mind snapping into focus. “That's the problem, isn't it, slipping from the shadow. World goes soft around the edges.” The voice, male, continued.
“What do you want.” Omy's voice matching his. Cold, level.
The weapon withdrew, an insignia replacing it. Omy turned a little.
“...what does SI:7 want?” She amended.
“A proposition.”
She scoffed, lowering her hands. She smoothly flicked the switch of the recorder she had attached to her belt. The one she had just finished at the compound. Now was as good a time for a test run as any. The soft whirl was covered by the cool winds of Redridge air.
“Fine, a job then.” He amended.
Her voice hardened in warning. “Turned my insignia in month-”
“-SI:7 wants something out of Scarlet hands. Specifically those in Statholme. Do this job for us, do it well, do it quiet. Prove you haven't lost all of your bladed edge and my agents will stop shadowing the Fordragon woman, we'll even drop the charges against her..” There was the sound of a match lighting behind her, and soon the smell of tobacco smoke drifted through the air. “...better yet we'll drop the notion that Otton Tiller's personal files were tampered with...”
It wasn't the mention of scarlets that bothered her... no, it was the other things that filled the streets of Stratholme. She never wanted to go back there again.
Instead she grinned. “That's not much of an offer.”
The man laughed darkly. “Oh, come now...Commander.” The edge to the title was on full display, Omy's mood souring. “You and I both know what happened when you took on that role. Don't try to pretend otherwise...” He offered her a cigarette, coming to sit beside her.
Omy took a good look at the man, his mask and hood leaving only dark blue eyes and a common human brow to her observations. She filed even that small bit of information away, shaking her head in answer to his offer.
“-you don't get to be the leader of such a fast growing militia by not caring about the people under your command.” He perched on the end of the roof, smoking lazily, his eyes watching her as she watched the darkened docks below. “Word is, the Silver Blade has gone soft-” Omy bristled, “But I know better...” He tapped ash from his cigarette, the sparks of little embers falling down into the dusk beyond the roof's edge. “...that's why we've been keeping an eye on you the last few months. What with an agent leaving active duty, one that knows what you know, and being an elf in a human city...there are concerns over you...serious concerns.”
Omy remained silent, her mind awash in anger.
“...do this job, and it will be a step in the proper direction. I promise you.” He flicked his finished cigarette over the edge, standing swiftly. “If you accept, the details will be waiting for you at Headquarters. If not...well...” He left the rest of the sentence hanging, dissipating back into the shadows of the roof. Omy felt the soft push as he left the rooftop...heard the very slight rustle of bush as he landed...and then nothing.


She sat for a moment, saying nothing, thinking...before she shut off the recorder.