Recommended Posts


Frea was asleep, sprawled out over almost the entirety her little bed.  The first real bed the girl could remember having in her short life, probably.  The bed that the warrior had to all but force the child to use.  Frea screamed and kicked and whined for her pile of pillows and cushions in the corner of the room.  The tiny little nest she had made herself and was so proud of.  It no longer existed in her mind or memory once she actually tried out the bed.  Breygrah was able to clear the corner without a second glance.  Breygrah sat. 


She mumbled in her sleep, a lot, and this night was no exception. Nothing was remotely recognizable, but Breygrah could at least tell it was orcish. It was always orcish.  Her father would not have minded that in the least.  She began learning Taurahe because it was only proper to know her mother tongue, but it was always going to be the second language for her. Just as orcish was for Breygrah.  Gruff, harsh, throaty orcish.  Noises rather than real words.  Taurahe flowed off of the tongue.  Orcish was a clearing of the throat.  Breygrah smiled.


Noise?  The elf?  She didn't seem to be stirring.  Poor thing was exhausted, whatever she had been doing.  Her eyes were dark, her breath was ragged from fatigue, but she hardly looked as if she exerted herself.  The Warriors knew better than to ask the priestess what she had been doing, since she would lie anyway.  And that was okay.  The elf slept, and tauren watched the night.  Breygrah sighed. 


The tauren's ear swiveled towards the window, and the sound. A clump of dirt stuck to the window, a blade of grass with it being whipped around in the wind before it was finally torn free.  Kex'ti?  Who else would be so playful at this hour?  She rose, and the small, silent room made her well aware of the noise her hooves made on the floor.  She crossed to the window to see a familiar shape in the grass below. 'Wh... why would she... What?'  Breygrah descended to the street with a bridled horror. 'Who... Is hurt?  Did someone succumb?  Is papa sick?  Has mother sent another of her scoldings?'  Breygrah grunted.

"Ragetotem," She greeted. 

"Thunderhorn,"  Brey responded in kind as she looked up to study the huntress' face.

Chepwa seemed in no different a mood as Brey could remember.  Stoic.  Silent.  No panic.  No one is hurt.  The warrior quickly calmed.  She did not notice her cousin carried anything until a heavy folded pile of cloth was flung and hit her in the face.  Heavy cloth stained dark brown, trimmed with blue.  A golden bull's head stared back up at her, and a lump began forming in her throat.  The huntress hardly raised her voice enough for the warrior to hear 'you know what you must do.'  For what felt like an eternity, Breygrah stood and stared.

Edited by Breygrah
  • Like 1

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Already, Frea thrived in Mulgore. Breygrah often spied her standing against the wind near the edge of the bluff, as close to the edge as she was allowed, inhaling as deeply as her little lungs could. It was most often followed by the loudest, most fierce war-cry a girl of seven could manage, no doubt taught to her and encouraged by Shokkra. Frea claimed that she was scaring away harpies, and Breygrah let her think she was doing a wonderful job at it by awarding her their colorful feathers. There were moments that she just enjoyed the warm winds and sunshine for what they were while rolling around in the grass. She chased the prairie dogs until they hid in their little burrows. She collected acorns that fell from the trees and kept them in a bucket just because she liked their scent.

And she was smart. She was so smart. Breygrah had often caught herself thinking he would be so proud of her. But... maybe he wouldn't see such things? She must have been where she was for a very good reason. Breygrah, once again being at peace with herself, would only accept herself assuming the best of people. Life molded each individual differently. Who was she to think, or assume she knew why someone did something? Others may not always accept the subject's excuses, but she strived to be more understanding than judging. She would always wonder why she found the girl there, wondering for knowledge's sake, and that would be about when Frea would call for attention, or Brey would have to give a stern warning that she was about to do something she wasn't allowed to do.

Maybe it just took time for the girl to learn that Breygrah would not take her back to the orphanage. Or that she was truly as kind as she seemed. And that her attention and focus would be on her and that Frea would not be forgotten. Maybe spending time with Shokkra and learning to swing the axe, learning the correct way to punch things so she didn't hurt herself, learning that it was okay to be angry. Perhaps it was learning that there were less reasons to keep being angry. There was more reason to explore. She was allowed to explore. She still hardly wanted to learn Taurahe, and insisted on speaking orcish, but she could learn dances, learn the prayers that were given to the Earthmother, learn how to listen to the spirits, learn the right way to bang on the drums, learn to swim in the lake at the Village.

Time passed, and she did less things that made Breygrah say 'no'. But Breygrah would let her do other fun things instead. The more she was allowed to do fun things, the less she wanted to do things she knew she shouldn't. In such a short time, she truly thrived.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

The warrior got peculiar looks from many passers-by as she sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the platform in Thunder Totem. Had it not already been deep into the evening she still wouldn't have noticed anyone regarding her. Her helmet and her shoulder-plates sat on the ground beside her. Her hands gripped the wood as her legs swayed in the breeze. Her ears pivoted to capture the faint sound of running water and the crashing of the waterfall even further away as she watched the faint blue-white twinkling of the stars reflecting off of the river's surface from so far above.

Gancha had left her sitting there hardly an hour ago. The Grimtotem took time out of aiding the druids in Val'sharah to visit with the chieftain, who herself was resting after aiding in Aszuna, and was the first of the new number she had seen since the initial failed assault on the Broken Isles. She was heartened to see him well, if tired, especially after an almost troubling conversation that took place in Thunder Bluff a couple weeks prior. Nomu had spoken to her over the stone a few times now, no doubt he was busy asserting that all of his kin were safe in the mountains before being available to meet. The others were deeply affected by the Broken Shore. She didn't question their current activities, nor would she think of doing so.

She didn't mind sitting alone, now. She didn't mind being alone at all, anymore. The less intelligent often benefit from not worrying themselves with past mistakes and chagrins, and even with the seemingly hopeless onslaught of the Legion, she was at peace in the moment. Having the few moments of the night to reflect on what she has seen, what she has done, and what must be done was a blessing. This land was so foreign, yet so familiar. Wholly new and completely comfortable. She regretted having to leave again so soon. With some effort, she eyed all of the things that would cause Frea to get herself into trouble to quell the desire to bring the girl to the mountains, and spur her to get back to work herself. She stood and let a wonderfully cold gust of air ruffle her mane.

  • Like 2

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead