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Footsteps: 2

March 21, 2013

For Daiera, a brief conversation with Jeraint is a catalyst. The next time she sees Eleiana, once the task that has brought them there is done, she simply asks her: “Ele? Do you have awhile?”

The shaman smiles. “Of course, my crops are growing and while there are plenty of people who want things, none is vital.”

Dai returns the smile. “Thank you. As the weather is fine… perhaps a walk in the sun?”

“Certainly.” Eleiana puts the small gem she had been carving back into her belt pouch and stands unhurriedly.

Dai begins to talk as they walk; the first parts of what she wants to discuss, at least, will cause no stir if overheard. “I’ve been having nightmares,” she begins, “ever since the Black Prince spoke about Azeroth’s danger. They aren’t new; they began when I first saw Hellfire with the expedition. My sleep has been troubled with images of Azeroth, destroyed, as was… well, you know.”

Eleiana winces. “Yes, I remember. My spirit’s host saw the original shattering. It has worried me too although I have not spoken to the dragon much.”

Dai sighs. “I don’t trust him, mind you. Not at all. But he has some good points, whatever his motives. And this war… I worry, too, that even without any further interference, the world is none too safe. Consider Theramore, for example.”

She winces. “And have you heard about Dalaran?”

Eleiana nods. “Some. It sounds messy.” She pauses. “And stupid, but unfortunately that is existence in an imperfect world. And I am not sure a perfect one would be better looking at supposedly perfect beings like Algalon.”

“Jeraint was there. You know I’ve been working with him, don’t you? I’m worried about him. Dalaran hurt him, and I… I’m not the right person to help; I’m not even the person to know who might. It doesn’t help that part of me is furious with him.” Sadly “Nor that I’ve dreamed of it ever since, except it’s my hands, my axe, slaughtering those who…” her voice trails off and she swallows.

Eleiana winces slightly in sympathy. “Would you like me to help with that? Your spirit seems overburdened at the moment.”

Daiera looks at her friend. “Yes, please, if you can. If I keep waking from nightmares like those, I worry I’ll hurt someone.”

The shaman bows her head briefly and then raises her hand. A flash of silvery light twinkles in it and Daiera feels her soul lighten. Eleiana frowns slightly. “You should take better care of yourself. I am not convinced all your problems were self-made, there was a very subtle but profound job of darkening your joy in life there.”

Daiera shakes her head. “This is the place for it, is it not?” More firmly, “I thank you. I will do what I can, especially if you have an idea how it happened.”

She is silent for a moment, not long enough for Eleiania to reply. “Have you any advice for how I might help my friend? He was… if not well, at least better before Dalaran. And it did not help, I think, when he was contacted by one of the Sin’dorei recently.”

“No, I can see that from what you have said.” She pauses, “I would happily speak with him if you would like.”

“I don’t know. I would dearly like you to; you’re wiser than I, and he is a good person; he does not deserve to hurt so. But I don’t know how he would react.”

“Well, I know what he looks like.” Eleiana says with a mischievous smile.

Daiera grins at her. “Eleiana, you’re a marvel.” Her expression darkens a little. “His visitor… I would be inclined to suspect a trap, had Jeraint himself not seemed convinced of his sincerity.” Ruefully, she adds, “As it is, I worry about the visitor, also.”

The other Draenai nods. “Well, as the Prophet says, the future takes care of itself but we can help it be a Lighter one. I’ll speak with Jeraint.”

Daiera turns to her friend and grins, “That saying, I like. I shall remember it! And thank you.” She chuckles “and it really was a nice day for a walk. I should do it more often.”

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