It is always sunset in the plaguelands.

"I don't know, Mezzy ..."

Quiet and still, she stood in the shadow of the stone entry. As always it was a bustle, patrons running in and out, the traffic in and out of aerie never ending, beneath the Outland sun, beneath the unfamiliar stars. And it was worse than the teeth of a dragon, worse than the cut of steel, the not knowing what was the right thing to do, where to find what to say that would make the hurt go away.

"Sometimes ... sometimes there are no wise words, no swordstroke that can cut true."

Shattrath sprawled beneath her - even the aerie was bigger than her far off home, circles alongside circles, terraces rising from the forest floor all the way to the sky. But tonight her world was small, just the shadow of the tavern porch. She stood in her protector's shadow. She was lucky, she always had Mezzy. He was honest, true, dependable.

She had to close her eyes.

How could she explain this? Were there even Eredar words to form even half a sentence, a hint of a thought?

Or would it be as impossible as trying to explain that true value is not measured in coin to one who refuses to acknowledge anything that is not the color of gold?

She had to try though.

This was important.

Because, for once, they were not alone.

She had to look away, eyes closing, teeth caught upon her lip. But she couldn't stay away, let it drift in the wind like an Azsharan leaf. But even more, she had to turn back, take a few steps forward, her words quiet, gentle and true. She spoke because she had to, against that which would gladly use silence as a shield of false legitimacy.

"I cannot forget the second time we met.

"A call from nowhere, unexpected.

"It was home, but a stone's throw away. I had helped there, when I first crossed the Kharanos vale, because the ranchers were nice. But it was my skills that were needed, to bring forth a dwarven warrior from afar. To watch the expression on his face when you gifted him his fine and strong ram. Seeing that it was not simply a token, but something shared. I saw your face, the smile ... and there was no gold that could be traded for that. Somehow, even me then, I ... I was suddenly part of something special, worth more than just the summons, more than just a livery hack.

"That ...

"That was when I knew ... this place, this was where I wanted to be.

"That I had not found a guild. I had found a home."

A touch, so light, of small fingers.

"They say I'm stupid, and they might be right.

"But you know, it doesn't matter. Because I know I am not alone. There are things more important depth of the blood upon the stones or who gets to carry home a head that we haven't even shorn yet."

"It may just be a simple choice."

She looked up to the stars, trying to read their pattern, divine their meaning. But then she just shook her head. That was foolish, as if some coin could be grabbed from them. They were pretty. They didn't have to be anything else.

"In this life you can be oh so smart, you can have that shiny sword, have that list of kills taller than you ...

"Or you can understand compassion ... and your treasures will be those who you share this path with.

"In a short, very short time, that sword will be chipped, it will rust, it will be forgotten and the person who carried it even more so, no more than a footnote in a Shattrath census.

"The latter ... they will never lose their value.

"Those you will hold dear forever.

A Song For Vamira