There, You'll Find Your Peace [Open]

[dearest-nehaa.livejournal.com]

In light of her run-in with that odious, terrible, frustrating the Death Knight and the Tauren, Nehaalista had chosen to retreat to the sensoriums. While it still baffled her a bit, it was there she could call up Tuurem, as she'd known it, before the Horde, before her own training had led her family to the city.

It was a little collection of small homes and buildings (small as compared to a Draenei, anyway), along the river. Villagers she remembered, now long, long dead, bustled here and there, attending to business that had never concerned Nehaalista. Huntsmen and bakers, blacksmiths and fishwives, all protected by the peacekeepers that patrolled the town in twos. The sound of hooves were everywhere. Somewhere in the distance, an elekk trumpeted as it came down the road. The light in Terrokar was blue as ever, thanks to the olemba trees filtration.

Nehaalista sat next to the riverbank and watched workers setting up tents for a festival of one kind or another. She smoothed a hand over the skirt of her robe and nibbled at some bread. She passed it over to the little Draenei boy next to her and signed, [Eat, Faram.] The words appeared over her head as she signed them. It was good to hear her mothertongue spoken in such volume again, coming over the buildings and rooftops in half-muttered curses and well-meaning joking.

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[sonofether.livejournal.com]

By all logic, Stephen...probably shouldn't have followed Nehaalista. It probably wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done in his life.

Even now, he was peeking in from the side, ignoring the fact that while the Sensorium left the goggles on his head alone, it transformed his plantsuit and labcoat into something that looked more like an Indian kurta.

He was just checking up on her, he told himself. And she seemed fine. This meant that he could probably just go without her seeing him, and it'd all be fine.

[dearest-nehaa.livejournal.com]

Faram, beside Nehaalista, rested his head on her arm as he watched the workers. The two of them had a sense of carefully refined peace about them. Until the little boy's tail twitched mischievously and he popped up to go running across the town square.

[Faram! Faram!] Nehaalista signed as he ran, uselessly. She sighed and shook her head, picking apart the remains of the bread for the fish. Nice to know the sensoriums remembered just how... not-still her little brother had always been.

[sonofether.livejournal.com]

The other Draenei didn't seem to be noticing him. Perhaps it was just a memory and not something he'd cause chaos in. Not that either thought was incredibly reassuring.

He could either break up the entire festival by being an alien, or just be a boor. Some choice.

One was preferable to the other, though. Stephen did his best to sort of sidle over in Nehaalista's direction.

"Hey, are you all right?" That'd be jarring, he's certainly not fluent in Draenei. Though he offered her an apologetic smile.

[dearest-nehaa.livejournal.com]

Nehaalista looked up from her fish-feeding, and nodded. [I'm fine,] the little words showed up as she signed. [Just forcing myself to relax and remember why I'm fighting as opposed to who I am fighting.]

[sonofether.livejournal.com]

"I was thinking about it, and I think I kind of understand why you might've been so upset. Though I was putting it in my sort of terms." Stephen gave a little shrug at that, and looked around.

The city--maybe town was a better term--wasn't like anything he'd ever seen before. Still, it and its people had an interesting sort of serenity.

"You lived here, before you came to the ship?"

[dearest-nehaa.livejournal.com]

[When I was a child, yes.] That had been centuries ago, though Nehaalista didn't think Stephen needed to have his brain broken by the concept. She'd learned that lesson with Luke. [This is Tuurem, outside of Shattrath.]

She sighed and motioned for him to sit. [It must've been the straw that broke the taubulk's back. That Death Knight showing up, I mean.]

[sonofether.livejournal.com]

"It's nothing like where I grew up. Though I suppose that's a given. Pittsburgh..." He let his words trail off and just shook his head. "This Tuurem is nicer."

Stephen folded himself down into a seated position, arms around his knees. "Do you want to talk about it, or is the thought of her just going to make you upset again?"

[dearest-nehaa.livejournal.com]

[To tell you what I am thinking right now would be terribly uncharitable to her.] Nehaalista signed wryly. [And hardly befitting a Vindicator, or a paladin.]

[sonofether.livejournal.com]

He nodded in acceptance at that, thoughtfully.

"Can you tell me why you're mad at her, beyond what little I caught during the argument? All I remember is something happened to the Exodar. A spaceship of some sort?"

Then Stephen gnawed on his lip a moment. "Well, no, if that's too painful, you don't have to tell me that, either." Interesting impasse he'd gotten himself into.

"Maybe so. But I don't know what a Vindicator is." Even if he had a clue about Paladins, if only because of a certain tabletop game.

[dearest-nehaa.livejournal.com]

[It is not painful. But like many others, I am not above the prejudices of my people. It is because of them - the Blood Elves - that my people were forced to crash on Azeroth. We had only wanted to make our escape into the stars, and they'd claimed Naaru technology for their own. We chose to take it back, and escaped with one part of the Keep. The Exodar. Unfortunately for us, they'd sabotaged it. While many of my people died several decades before, even more died in the crash. My family was probably among them.] Nehaalista sighed, steadying herself. It did not hurt so much any more, but only because she'd put much distance between the disappearance of her loved ones and arriving on Azeroth.

[Of all the races of the Horde, I cannot think of any in more recent memory who are so worthy of being put to the sword.] Well, she could, of course, but for the moment... [Though I'm sure they had their reasons, whatever sense of nobility they had in the cause was grossly distorted by the time they fell upon my still-recovering people like hounds.] Nehaalista shuddered.

[sonofether.livejournal.com]

Stephen wasn't entirely certain of what to say. At times like this, he usually had the bad fortune to put his foot in his mouth and irritate or annoy the person he was trying to comfort.

So he just reached up a hand and patted Nehaa on the shoulder, and gave it a squeeze.

[dearest-nehaa.livejournal.com]

Nehaalista smiled and patted his hand. [It's fine, really. But thank you for your concern.] She pointed out at Tuurem. [If I ever want to remind myself what I fight for, I have this, after all.]

[sonofether.livejournal.com]

"It's definitely a good reminder. Maybe I ought to see if I can get a family photo of mine made from memory. I don't know if I'd forget...I can't say I don't have a couple friends here already. Friends I'd fight for."

But still, reminders were always good.

[dearest-nehaa.livejournal.com]

Nehaalista looked back out to the small island of tents that was forming. [It's good to have something to fight for. Even if our worlds don't get restored, we'll at least have something.]

A twang of string instruments tuning came over the water, followed by the slow thump of someone playing a hand drum as they waited. [Looks like they're getting ready to start.] She smiled.

[sonofether.livejournal.com]

"Start? Start what?" He gave Nehaalista an expectant look, as he had no idea whatsoever what he'd stumbled upon, when he'd followed her into the Sensoriums and barged in on her session.

He gave her a sheepish sort of smile by way of apology.

[dearest-nehaa.livejournal.com]

[The festival!] Nehaalista signed with exuberance. [You can always tell: someone starts tuning instruments just before, to call the people to celebration.]

[sonofether.livejournal.com]

Oh boy. Festival? "What is it for? What is it celebrating?" Of course he's going to ask half a dozen questions, now. "Do you think they'll mind me?"

Considering he's not only a stranger, but a weird-looking one, amidst all the regal and elegant Draenei, to boot.

[dearest-nehaa.livejournal.com]

[The end of summer and beginning of autumn. Winters aren't hard here in the forest, but the tightening of one's belt before it comes is always celebrated with a bit of a binge at the beginning.] Nehaalista explained. [And considering this is all from my imagination, no, I don't think you'll be minded.]

[sonofether.livejournal.com]

"Oh." He had sort of forgotten that. The response worked just as well for her explanation of the festival as well.

"Do you want to go?" Though that might have been sort of a dumb question, too. Still, he rose to his feet, turning to take a look over at the tent gathering.

[dearest-nehaa.livejournal.com]

Nehaalista smiled and nodded, then slowly pulled herself up to her full height and smoothed the skirt out. [Don't you have anything like this at home? The humans on Azeroth,] not her world, [seem to throw a festival for every occasion. There was at least one a month there.]

[sonofether.livejournal.com]

Stephen shook his head. "Not so often. They centered around either religious celebrations, or...hm. I don't know what else you'd call them. I want to say some of them were the high days of an old religion, turned into folk holidays. Then there was one in the middle of summer that celebrated the birth of the nation I lived in."

By this point he was hoping he was making sense.