“Th-that’s great…” She laughed softly and hugged him tightly to her. As they sant in their embrace, she could feel him quivering; a soft sobbing overwhelming her ear and her heart. For a man who had so much strength, he still had so much heart.

“Why haven’t you left me yet, Evie? I have abandoned you for war. Why do you love me so?” Thalend asked as his arms clung tighter to his wife. Soothingly, Evanyell let her hug soften in order to cradle him against her. Her hand cascaded over his head as she nuzzled her cheek into his hair.

“Because you love me.” She never spoke softer words. “I must recognize that I will always be second for you.”

“No!” He shouted as he drew himself back from the hug, leaving hiw wife wide-eyed at the sound. He gripped her shoulders and stared her in the eye as he spoke through a clenched jaw. “You are my wife. My duty is to you as much as it is to anything else.”

“Please don’t feel as if I should cary so much merit that you should beg leave from your duties in Vash’jir.” Evanyell said as she began to calm her beating heart.

“To hear you say that… I can’t…” Thalend dropped his head and took in a long breath. When he brought his head up again, he removed the patch across his eye, wanting to see his wife with both eyes — knowing she cared for him despite what he found about himself to be a disfigurement. “You humble me, Evan.”

“I will wait for you,” She whispered softly which drew them into a loving, romantic kiss.

The flowers in the front yard are a bit wilted. The rain has soaked them so much that the roots have nowhere else to go to find warmth or dry shelter. The exotic plants I brought home from Mount Hyjal seem to be blossoming and I know in time they will serve me well as the others have done. I’ve thought about it time and time again to opening up my own holistic medicine shop. It wouldn’t cost me much since I would have the shop right in my own home. The room that once belonged to Philip and William — Light rest his soul — is now empty and most of the bedding materials have been packed away. I haven’t bothered to dust in there for a while because I simply haven’t had the time to deal with it. I’m sure a project like this would force my hand.

The church has grown dark as of late. I fear something is brewing inside that I cannot see. Everyone (the clergy, of course) seems to be on edge and no one will say why. Perhaps they don’t even know themselves. I watch some of the priests much more closely now. Some months back, we caught a spy among the clergy members. He was a young priest, only recently indoctrinated, and we discovered his sinister plot to overthrow the church hierarchy for his dark, Twilight master. It was openly addressed that he worked for no one in the church and he was the only culprit. I, however, think that he was working for someone who was in the church. I have wanted to tell someone but talking about such things makes you an instant target for ridicule or rumor. I’m not willing to go through the motions of a clergy-oriented trial. Unfortunately in these dark days: You’re guilty until proven innocent.

I will keep an eye on the church when I can. The call for herbalists and spell casters is larger for Mount Hyjal than it has been in a long time. I was pleased when I was told that the great dragon Ysera was willing to step in and assist us mortals in quelling the rage that Neltharion has brought upon Azeroth. I was told that Thrall had been captured by the Alliance Navy at one point but he had escaped and was doing whatever it was he needed to. While I am no fan of Orcs, I do believe Lady Proudmoore knew what she was doing when she befriended Thrall. My worry now rests with Hellscream’s son Garrosh. Like Varian, he can be hard-headed and his dislike of the Alliance fuels his rage and desire to put our long-standing civil war on the forefront of the list of things to accomplish. This only means that there are less soldiers that are being placed where they NEED to go.

War is not what we look forward to; although some may highly disagree with that statement. These are my thoughts for now.

Signed,

Evanyell A. Sunwhisper, December 29th

As for me? Well, I ended up whipping my neck around and got slammed hard against the door on my right side. (Most of the car’s damage was on my side.) I’m in a lot of pain and trying to recover from it — so please excuse me for not posting a story until I start feeling better. The amazing thing about the accident is that the guy who pulled out like a brainless lunatic actually drove off when we hit the signs. He didn’t bother to come back to check on us or anything. A good samaritan woman followed the man and was able to get down his plates and car make / model. I hope that guy knows driving off from the scene of an accident like that is a federal offense. (Can someone say: felony?)

I’m looking into getting an attorney to see what my rights and stuff are. The van is insured, so I’m not worried about it getting repaired; the damage itself was more cosmetic — aside from the radiator getting kicked. The mirror on the right side was torn clean off and the front bumper doesn’t exist anymore. Other than that, the van is in okay shape. I’m glad we didn’t hit the asshole because that accident could have been much, much worse.

He was shaking.

As his hand lowered, his gun slowly followed the direct path it had taken in order to be raised. Blue eyes widened and then contracted as a fine, pink mist sprayed outwardly from where the bullet had entered and again when it exited. Soft brown hair swayed a bit as the intended target lurked a few steps foward before finally falling to the ground in a sickly, squishing heap. The cries of his mother drowned out to nothingness. Deafness was all he could hear. Her warm hands clasped firmly over his hand as she tried her best to plead with him to release the pistol in his hand. He turned his head a bit to the right. Although he knew internally the woman struggling with him was his beloved Minn’da, he couldn’t cognitively process how she belonged there. What was she saying? Why was she crying? All thought no longer made any sense for him. Such earthly abilities were now beyond him.

Where was the raven that had screeched? Where was the rain that had been falling on the shingles of the home? Why did he feel no warmth on his skin from the hearth that roared with life?

“Philip!” Evanyell’s voice finally managed to break through the deafening silence that had overcome his mind and body. Philip Sunwhisper — now in his early twenties — looked to the Quel’dorei woman who was dwarfed by his six-foot-four stature. Her blue eyes had dimmed a bit over the years, but she was still as strikingly youthful as she had been when he was just thirteen. “Philip, what have you done?” She asked in a shaky voice. Philip looked down at the man he had felled. His own electric-green eyes seemed to diminish in their vibrancy for a brief moment as he stared to the bleeding corpse on the floor.

“He was going to hurt you, Minn’da!” Philip shouted as his anger began to rise up once more.

“He was the Abbot, Philip. It matters not what he may have done, it only will matter what you have done.” Evanyell spoke with a maternal firmness, but as she peered to Philip’s face; she could only envision his teary-eyed thirteen-year-old former self staring back up at her with wide, confused eyes. Dropping the pistol with a loud, but easily ignored clang, Evanyell drew her son into her and held him tightly against her bosom. Above them, they could hear the sounds of concerned clergy members scattering and looking for answers. Philip looked up. Although just moments ago he had been filled with all of the answers and had tried to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable result — he was now filled with such uncertainty that he had no idea what to do. With questions filling his eyes, he looked to his mother for some kind of answer. She always had an answer.

“You must run, my belore. Run. I will hold them off.” Evanyell instructed as she brushed back his hair with her palm and kissed his forehead. The sounds of the paladins were coming ever closer and as such, the Priestess understood her son had very little time to run but closeby was an unused armoire that he could hide in until the scene had been properly cleaned up. Rushing her son by his hand, she took him to the armoire and softly instructed him to stay. Reluctantly, Philip mashed his back against the far wall and watched the goings on through a small open slit. When he was hidden safely away, Evanyell returned to the body and picked up the gun herself. Evanyell had never in her life used a gun, nor did she believe they were necessary outside of hunting — but here she was holding the butt of the pistol as if she had intended to use it to defend herself from ravenous wolves.

When the priests and paladins came down to find out what the noise was, they were all shocked to find Abbot Darling face down in a pool of his own blood and the High Priestess Sunwhisper holding the weapon that had caused his demise. “Your eminence! Explain yourself!”

“I did it.” Evanyell spoke with such candor that a few of the priests seemed to lose all color in their cheeks. From his vantage point, Philip could see and hear everything. When his mother confessed to the crime, Philip found it odd that he couldn’t speak. Desperately he wanted to leap out of the shadows and tell them his mother was innocent. Every fiber of his being was frozen in fear and doubt.

“Why? We must know–” One priest began to ask.

“She will have her trial soon enough,” Paladin Darbury said in a gruff tone. He had never been one to like elves, regardless of their station within the church. With Evanyell being where she was — he liked her even less. Reaching out, he ripped the pistol from her dainty hand with unusual ease and then took a brutish hold on her upper arm. “For now, we will place her in the care of the guard.”

Paladin Darbury carted her off as though she were nothing more than street filth being taken away to the gallows. A priest of high ranking — Philip couldn’t tell if he were a Bishop or Cardinal — demanded that the monks come through and properly care for the Abbot’s body. Closing his eyes for a moment after watching his mother be carted away, he drew in a long breath and smelled the musty air of the catacombs through the wooden slats of the armoire. Just hours before, the Abbot’s page had come to the cottage in Elwynn and demanded his mother seek an audience with him. He had only been with the city church for a small while; originally from one of the smaller churches on the outskirts of Hillsbrad before it was nearly decimated. In his sermons, his gray eyes would casually slide over to Evanyell’s chair and he would make remarks that were more like hidden messages. At first, Philip paid them no mind except when mysterious flowers and letters came to the house. He inquired if his mother’s husband had given them to her as a token of his thoughts while he was away — she never responded and always threw the flowers away or burned the letters without reading them.

The Abbot’s sermons slowly manifested from soft, gentle words of churchly wisdom to declaring the souls of the wicked would be banished from the life eternal. His words were like venom. Even through the services, his mother made very little eye contact with the Abbot and almost always refused to see him until this night. Philip had always known his mother to be a beacon of hope for people who needed it. She rarely insulted anyone and only once had she ever claimed someone was denounced from the life eternal. Curious as to why his mother would choose now to see the Abbot, Philip decided to follow them. With stealth and nightly shadow on his side, he watched his mother vanish behind a veil and down to the annex room just before the western crypts.

“I am glad you finally decided to come, your eminence.” The Abbot said with a wolf-like grin on his face.

“I came here, Abbot, to explain to you that your feelings for me will not be reciprocated in any manner.” Evanyell explained to him as she stood firmly and calmly near the entrance. The Abbot’s face contorted to a most ghoulish expression of malcontent. Stretching his thin lips back into a partial snarl, he lunged forward but stopped abruptly.

“I am sorry you feel that way, High Priestess. I could make you a very wealthy woman and a respected member of this congregation.” He cooed softly to her as he circled around her like a buzzard over a dead carcass. Evanyell sighed and continued to look forward with a thousand-yeard stare.

“I am respected by my Candles and I need no money.” She replied cooly.

“I am sure,” the Abbot said with a dark chuckle, “that you might need a man to warm your bed — with your husband gone.”

Evanyell’s blue eyes snapped open as he had hit a nerve. Hissing a bit, she leaned her head forward to prove to the Aboot he had very little dominance over her. “My husband is doing his duty and I will damned to have you think anything other than that. I love him and you will not flatter yourself by assuming I am some wanton female.”

The Abbot grinned and backed down a bit, “But all women are wanton females.”

“Then find yourself an unmarried, wanton female.” Evanyell snapped back. The Abbot didn’t seem to care for this response as he flew his hand up and backhanded Evanyell across the mouth. Had she seen this coming, it would have been likely that she would have blocked such a move — but she hadn’t anticipated the Abbot being the type of man to do such a thing while wearing his assortment of religious rings. The fleur de lise on his ring finger caught her upper lip and sliced enough of the flesh to cause it to bleed. Philip had not witnessed this action as he had taken a moment to peer over his shoulder and ensure he wasn’t being followed as well.

“Listen you filthy little elf bitch, I’ve seen you speak so delicately and sway your hips around here like you’re some kind of desire. Don’t act all high and mighty now.” The Abbot hissed back at her. His tongue literally flickered in and out of his mouth as if he were a viper.

“You flatter yourself to assume that I would do such a thing to entice you.” Evanyell tried to speak as the blood filled her mouth. Although she was against such actions, she had no other choice but to spit out the blood or risk bleeding into her stomach and poisoning herself.

“That’s precisely why you’re doing it!” He barked again. Wounded, Evanyell found herself reacting a bit more to his advances in the same way a wounded bird reacts when it is being threatened. This time when the Abbot came at her again, his hand reached out for her bodice. Before he could rip it, Philip had come out of his hiding place with his gun at the ready — and fired.

Opening his eyes again, Philip noted the monks had left with the body. They would be back soon to clean up the blood they had left behind so he had very little time to escape without being noticed. He knew the first place he would go was the guard headquarters in order to inquire about his mother.

…Part Two Coming December 29th, 2010…

Philip looked up into his adopted mother’s blue eyes and wrapped his arms around his shoulders to hug her tightly. In the year that passed since their turbulent time, both mother and son had gone through so many changes and so many choices. After Allenforth had decided to vanish into the four winds, Philip had decided to forego the path of the Paladin and take up arms as a Warrior. While Evanyell had been against the idea — since she wanted to ensure that he held tightly to the tenets of the Light — Philip was bound and determined to become stronger than his father. Through the various fights he had with his mother on the subject; eventually Evanyell decided to be supportive of her son’s choices and instead took his weapons and armor to the church to bless them with fortitude and protection. When he came to her in the middle of the night and showed her he had signed up to assist the Redridge Militia, Evanyell nearly sank herself into tears.

It has only been six months since Little Will had been taken from her in one of the many violent battles with the cultists in Elwynn and seeing the charter that Philip had signed made her feel as though she were about to lose another son. Philip, in wisdom beyond his years, helped his mother cope with the loss and eased her slowly into the idea that he would be doing something for the greater good of Azeroth — which was what Evanyell had wanted anyway. As time went on, and the time for his deplpoyment drew ever closer, she settled her soul down and found a pride in her son for doing what he felt was right and standing up for his beliefs.

“I love you, Minn’da.” Philip whispered into his mother’s bosom. Although there was a clear distinction that Philip was Human and Evanyell was High Elf, there was no question that Evanyell adored this young man as one of her very own. Her fingers laced into his chocolate brown hair and she rest her nose and tears on the crown of his head. “Don’t cry.” He asked pleadingly as he turned to look up at his mother.

“I’m not crying because I’m sad, ado belore. I’m crying because I’m proud of you. You’ve turned out to be everything I dreamed you would be.” Evanyell whispered softly down at her son as he fingers brushed back his hair. Philip smiled at this and slowly retracted from the warm embrace of his mother’s arms. It was a reluctant separation of mother and son, but Evanyell knew that if she held onto him, he would find a way to break free. Wiping some stray tears from her face, she looked out the open front door of their cottage and noted the sway of the grass in the crisp, Winter afternoon. “Have you everything you need to get there?”

“Yes, Minn’da. I packed the food you made and the herbs and medicine are in my horsebag.” He announced with a huff. Both of them were nervous but neither of them wanted to freely admit it. Philip pivoted sharply on the ball of his foot and walked outside in a military fashion. Evanyell trailed delicately behind him like a shadow.

“Write to me?” Evanyell asked, although she knew his response.

“I promise. I won’t miss a day.” He said with a puffed out chest. Nodding to his mother and tipping his hat to her a bit, he turned the pony he had climbed up on and motioned for it to gallop into the distance. Evanyell watched until the white pony had vanished from sight. Her lithe frame leaned heavily against the doorframe of her cottage as her fingers laced nervously in and out of themselves.

“I’m proud of you… Philip Sunwhisper.” She whispered with a soft smile.

Days had passed since that moment, leaving Evanyell to work with the chickenhouse of the clergy on her own. The only person who seemed confident in what was going on among the pulpit-bearers was the Archbishop. Benedictus seemed far too cavalier, but Evanyell simply attributed that to far too much self-confidence and very little confidence in the Light itself. The Bishops were concerned that their congregation was straying too far from their reach and anyone beneath them was simply concerned that efforts to campaign for the church would end up in a loss of more city funds — something King Varian was not going to like. The whole situation was turning into a bad political warpool with everyone shouting suggestions and discourse among one another without providing any real answers.

The Sacred Candle would have to bear with her consistent absences simply because she could do very little to say no when the church itself was being called upon. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Before Evanyell knew it, she had felt like she had been sitting there listening to scared old men for a small eternity. When she was able to, Evanyell would sneak to the Old Town district of the city and specifically to the Pig and Whistle for tea and a small break from the insane amount of malcontent that had been bubbling up in the church. If it wasn’t the elements that had been plunged into an undesriable effect, it was the Light itself that also seemed unbearably pissed off. As she frequented the small tavern in Old Town, she began to be known to the patrons as “Lady Tea,” as tea was the only drink she ever seemed to want. For her, the place and the name was an escape from her dreary duty to the clergy — which was fastly becoming a chore for her and less of a pleasure as it had once been.

One afternoon, as she was sitting in the Pig and Whistle writing her scripture for the mass at the end of the week, a young page approached her with all haste. By appearance, he appeared almost like a small Maledore. Smiling to the young man, he produced a small rolled up parchment. “Your Eminence, you are requested in Mount Hyjal; immediately.” He announced in a high-pitched tone which suggested he was trying to be as official about it as his superiors had been. Evanyell stopped writing long enough to rise up from the table and slowly take the request from his hand.

“A draft back into the military?” Evanyell asked as she peered questioningly to the young man.

The page shook his head lightly, “No, your eminence. The Guardians of Hyjal request your presence as an herbalist, I believe.” As Evanyell looked the young man over, she could tell he was just as confused about such a request as she was.

“Why do they need an herbalist? Most of them are druids anyway,” Evanyell asked, although asking this young man seemed to be the wrong thing to do as all he did was shrug his shoulders. “I’ll go see to their representative. Thank you.”

With that, the page darted off to find his next target. Evanyell peered to the request once more. Rather than it being something official as an induction to the Alliance military, it was simply a detailed letter; almost like something one would send to a friend or long-lost loved one. Curious, Evanyell sat back down and begant to read the letter, which was written in Thalassian.

Dear Lady Sunwhisper,

I humbly apologize for the informality and hastiness of this letter that I send to you, but I must ask your forgiveness another time. Dire situations have arisen in Mount Hyjal with the elements and Twilight’s Hammer. This is more than our guardian Ysera can handle and she had asked that we send word to those who we know to be brave and able enough to take on this challenge. The young man who gave you this letter was instructed to express we needed another herbalist, well that is only a half-truth and that is partially my doing. As the young Human cannot read Thalassian, he will not know what is written here, but you will. We do not ask that you rejoin the military — we are (or more specifically I am) aware that you had left that path long ago to take up the mantle of the ordained. I aks that you now put aside your oath of peace and obliviousness to take up arms with us and help us defend the World Tree. I beg your presence as quickly as you can arrive.

Signed,

Andariel Dawnrunner

I’m sorry for my unintended absence. Unfortunately as things go, my life took a little bit of a stumble and a roll but luckily I managed to get myself up and moving again. I won’t go into details as to what happened but for those of you who know, you know why I had to disappear for a little while. I promise not to scare you all like that again. You have my word. For those of you who don’t know, I will simply leave it that I had an issue to take care of. It has been taken care of and I am happy to say that the stories will continue.

Recently, I’ve been enjoying myself on my Rogue (Massey) and the story that has developed with her has been wonderful. For that, I’d like to thank the following people:

Arthuros (who keeps texting me to write more stories), Thoranis, Balthisarr, Redrin, Darnimas, Vasain, Frazlez, Fritzy, Grane / Kemet, Andenton, Andarias (no relation to the former), Arythi and the many other random people who have crossed Massey’s path in order to facilitate the storyline. You guys make it possible and believe me when I say you rock… hardcore. No fluff.

As far as the story with Evanyell goes, I’m putting that on hold (as I have for a while now), mostly because I want to enjoy all that Cataclysm has to bring before I restart a story on her. If you’re wondering about where things stand, here is where I am at:

•  The relationship with Thalend is on hiatus. As ICly he is serving in Vash’jir, she is likewise serving in Mount Hyjal. With this constant separation (and the fact Thalend has been working on his Dwarf for his raiding guild — GET TO 85!), they decided it would be beneficial for them to put everything on hold.
• Evanyell has recently been come to be known as “Lady Tea” at the Pig and Whistle among its various patrons. This is due in part to her being there only for tea, a chat and she vanishes.

That isn’t much, but honestly I would rather not start any long storylines on my Priest until I’m comfortable in Cata. Not to mention most people bounce from character to character (which I too am guilty of) in order to experience all of the new content and guild stuff. I plan on pushing my characters as far into the new content as possible. What? I’m allowed a little non-RP fun too!

The following things I can safely say about Cataclysm:

• Christie Golden’s book “The Shattering” is an amazing read. I love it.
• Thrall is a god. I’m positive of that.
• Varian isn’t nearly as much of a dick as you’d think but Jaina is still a ho.
• Goblins sound WAY too much like Snooki from Jersey Shore. (I apologize for putting no warning label on this one and if Goblins are forever ruined for you, you fail to remember there is a mute button.)
• Worgen starting zone is wicked fucking awesome.
• Worgen are wicked fucking awesome.
• There are far too many Night Elf mages running around these days. Where did all of these Highborne come from?!
• Vash’jir and Mount Hyjal are awesome zones.
• Deathwing looks better in-game than he did in the cinematic. Is that even possible?

All in all, I plan on having fun and hopefully –should time allow– I’ll be writing updated stories.

All my love,

Evanyell Sunwhisper

He found me in Stormwind City browsing the various stands for any new recipes that I hadn’t already acquired. While I was still wearing the ratty robes I wear when I’m picking flowers, when I see myself through Thalend’s eyes, I’m beautiful. As usual, he was wearing his plated kilt and no shirt. I know many men find his desire to walk around without a blouse to be sinful (although I know many women who have commented to Thalend don’t mind the sinfulness it may give off), but I respect his choice in believing that the Light provides enough protection that he doesn’t need to wear full regalia. He smells of oil, engine grease, sweat and an intoxicating cologne; a combination that I never would have thought to be so alluring before.

Perhaps its just hormones or perhaps it was something else entirely. I’m never sure when I’m around him because I’m so strangely relaxed. I don’t feel like I need to put on a mask and convince him that I’m something more than what he sees everyday. Immediately he greets me with a hug and a kiss, conveying to me his love for me in such brief encounters like this. Before he even asks what I might be up to, he asks if I was willing to spend the evening with him. I’m not sure why he would need to ask anything like that. Of course I would!

He drove us in his self-made chopper from Stormwind City all the way to Eversong Woods. We made a small pit-stop in the Plaguelands just south of Tyr’s Hand where Thalend had such a traumatic event. I’m not clear on the details, but I know it had something to do with his mother. I’ve never seen Thalend show much emotion up until recently and seeing him on the ground in this desolate, secluded little spot surrounded by death and decayed buildings… I couldn’t help but feel empathy for him. We sat there for a long while and he let me hold him close. For a man who prides himself on being a fortified tower, I was proud of him for wanting to seek closure.

After the incident in Elwynn with the children, we discussed living arrangements somewhere in Hillsbrad. When I off-handedly mentioned Lordaeron — attempting to be funny and failing horribly — he had said he avoided places near his former home because he could not face what it had become. He had been guilted into believing that Lordaeron’s fall was entirely his doing. We’ve had several therapy sessions in which I’ve tried to convince him otherwise, but, each time he turns back to the mindset that was driven into him by the Scarlet Crusade. I suppose there is some brainwashing that cannot be helped or erased.

As we sat there, I believe he finally found some strength to keep moving forward. I am very proud of him for taking that first, big step toward healing.

When we left, he promised he was going to take me to a special spot. Turns out that special spot was in Eversong Woods. I was flabbergasted. Everything was just the way I had remembered it — sans the giant, grotesque, Scourge-infested scar running down the center. The trees were blooming and the goldenrod and crimson leaves were falling from them like wisps and sparkles. The air was crisp and clean; the sky was a passionate blue that could only be rivaled by deep island waters. I was overwhelmed by it all. Not just the scenery (that was sublime) but the magic that clung to the air made me light-headed and everything was fuzzy for a time.

He took me to the place where water meets the earth. It was heavenly. A blanket, some picnic foods and a spot just beneath a large tree where the leaves were rustling in the soft, balmy breeze.

It was there that he asked.

In a box was a ring with small gears and gems. He had engineered a ring just for me. He has asked me to marry him. I couldn’t rightfully deny my heart this chance at happiness. With Thalend things are different. My soul is free. My heart is free. I can be myself and I don’t have to impress him. He certainly doesn’t need to impress me. I am bonded with him. We didn’t speak of wedding dates and we didn’t speak of anything other than the enjoyment of our company and how blissful it will be to grow and come together as a family. This ring means everything to me. It means we are connected. Not just by pretty objects but by something much stronger than that.

I love Thalend. I know this to be true in every fiber of my body and soul.

Thalend woke up, rubbing his eyes and letting out a long heaving sigh as he heard a soft squabble from the otherside of the room near the dresser. Groaning softly, he slipped his arm away from the blond who had been sleeping peacefully at his side as she did every night. Outside the window, the horizon was speckled with orange and pink; the colors slowly brightening as they began their hostile takeover of the midnight blue and charcoal gray skies. Dawnsworn may have been his last name but dawn certainly wasn’t an hour of the day he could process cognitively. A soft layer of frost framed around the glass of the window. Sliding his feet off the bedding and lurching forward to force himself up, he could hear the soft cooking begin to develop into a snorting-cry.

“Come on, Rosie, its early,” he bemoaned despite having taken shifts like this since the day she was brought into the world. The woman in his bed turned to the side, curling up against his pillow and nuzzling her nose into it. Turning to watch her for a moment, Thalend smiled and took the time to tuck some of her locks behind her long pointed ear. “Morning, Beautiful.”

Evanyell sighed contently and quickly went back to a light sleep. Pushing himself up and off the bed, Thalend shuffled himself over to the crib that sat against the wall. He tightened his sleeping pants and took a look down at the blond baby girl batting her hand at her musical mobile that didn’t seem to be making any sound other than a light tinkling when she smacked a few of the toys together. “Morning to you, too, Beautiful.” He murmured to the infant as he reached down to pick her up. If anyone was ever a ‘daddy’s girl,’ it was certainly Rosemary Dawnsworn. As he tucked the little half-elf baby into his arms, she immediately pushed her little nose into his chest and closed her eyes.

“Just like your Mama,” he chuckled softly. Rosemary replied by starting up her sniveling once more. “Alright, alright. One bottle coming up.”

With her still in his arms, he wandered past the boys’ respective rooms and Gwinn’s. Much of the house he had built still looked relatively new, aside from the niches and a scratches that came from raising children. There was still the colored pencil markings from where Will had decided to be artistic with the walls. Most of the color had been removed but there were still a few hashmarks that wouldn’t come off. Thalend promised to make Philip repaint the wall for giving his brother the pencils and not watching him. There were drawings pinned to Gwinn’s door and a few flowers painted on it. Evanyell thought it would be a good touch to give her her very own room. Gwinn didn’t seem to mind the idea so much as she took liberties in decorating it with what she wanted.

The stairs were still a bit creaky and the wood was still adjusting, so Thalend felt a little awkward walking down to the kitchen when every step down groaned loudly. He was trying his best to be silent and not wake anyone up, but he figured the road to hell is paved with good intentions and this would be no different. “Daddy doesn’t make a very good Rogue…” he mused to his daughter with a hushed tone. Rosemary began to suck on her fist, following her father’s cue on being quiet. “Good idea, Rosie.” He leaned down to try and nom on her hand with her, but his attempt was met with opposition as she snorted to express he was crossing a line. Grinning like a fox, he pulled himself back and wandered to the cooling cupboard. Thalend began to shift through the various foods that had been keeping chilled.

“Its behind the bread, Thal,” Evanyell’s slumberous voice piped up from behind Thalend. Had he not been used to surprises, he might have jumped — okay, he jumped a little. Taking the bottle out of the cooling cupboard, he turned to see his wife rustling her fingertips through a mass of messy blond hair. His eyes trailed over her for a moment to admire how beautiful she was early in the morning before he would reach to her left hand and smirk knowingly at the silver band delicately clinging to her ring finger.

“I tried not to wake you up, Evan.” he chuckled, handing the bottle to his beloved wife. Grinning a bit as she fought back the urge to fall back asleep while up on her feet, she took the bottle and pecked her husband on the mouth. Thalend continued to cradle Rosemary as Evanyell wandered to the stove and began to boil water; setting the bottle in the boiling water to warm it up.

“Mother’s instincts. I learned them with Will.” Evanyell mused. “Besides, I need to make the kids’ lunches.”

Thalend nodded and then looked down at the blue-eyed wonder staring up at him with half of her balled fist in her gummy mouth. “Mommy is very good at being Mommy.” Rosemary cooed softy in an agreeable response. Evanyell wandered over toward the cooling cupboard and took a moment to stop and kiss her husband and daughter. Taking out the necessary items to make her children their lunches, she peered out the window as sunlight began to filter into the house. Her bunny slippers shuffled across the floor. Thalend watched her for a moment before walking past her and grabbing the heated bottle from the boiling water to feed Rosemary.

Thalend closed his eyes for a long moment as Rosemary suckled on her bottle. Four kids, three changes and two houses later… this was his one life.