Carrying the news

Gripping the small scrying crystal tight in one first, Quin chewed her lip, letting it guide her toward her friend’s location.  She tried not to dwell on the question that kept echoing through her skull.

How, exactly, was she going to explain to Anthus that Skybrooke wasn’t dead after all?

Anthus sat in Ironforge, nursing a mug of Greatfather Winter’s Ale.  Every time the festival rolled around, the roguish man went to the tavern there to drink deeply of the delicious brew.  He’d no idea what’d happened, having been entrenched around the Broken Isles at the behest of the Uncrowned.

Oblivious as he was, he had no clue that he was being sought out, nor what news his seeker brought.

The fact that he was so close had left her a slightly unnerved, since she’d just left Aekatrine’s house in the Hall of Explorers on her hunt for him with the news.  There was a chance--however small--that he’d see her before she did.  Quin hoped that wouldn’t be the case, based on her conversation with Sky that evening at the little Winter Veil gathering that had taken place in lieu of the planned snowball fights and celebration on the mountain--weather had been the enemy tonight, nothing else.

They just didn’t know how he would handle it after everything else and Sky--and Quin, too--thought it might be best that she tell him first and let him decide what he might do from there.

Still, Quin reflected, the idea of doing it was easier when she thought he was still out in the field.

She slipped inside the tavern, a small, quiet human figure among the revelers, still dressed in red and white and black, a gown reminiscent of days long gone for both of them--it was something she’d have worn at the Veil once upon a time, when they were both working for Fiammeta Castleton as Companions.  She spotted him before he spotted her--at least she thought she had--and quietly threaded through the tables and patrons to where he sat.

Even as she reached him, she wasn’t certain what she was going to say.

Anthus simply stared down into his mug, quietly peering into the brew, as if searching for answers.  He certainly didn't notice as Quin slipped up behind him, too lost in his own head to really notice anything.  He exhaled a soft sigh, the faintest grin crossing his lips.

“Anny?  You okay?”  Quin sank down into the chair next to him, her brow furrowing in concern.  “Or are you just--” she broke off, frowning.

“Hrm?”  He turned and faced her, still grinning slightly.  “Quin!”  He raised his mug of ale, a bright smile crossing his face.  “Looking lovely as always.  And I'm fine.  Home for the holidays, which is lovely.”  He feigned slightly, the slightest twinge of doubt in his smile.

Her brows knit even further, but she nodded slightly.  “Lovely is a good word for it.  Did you just come from the Broken Isles, then?  I kind of expected you might linger in Dalaran for the season, since Jude and Lyyn and…”  She stopped and took a deep breath.

“Though I guess they’ll probably come here.  Sorry.  Silly of me.  How long have you been back?”

“What time is it?”  He pondered.  “...maybe… two hours?  I’m only on my second mug of ale.”  He chuckled softly, leaning over and putting his head on her shoulder.  “I’m glad you’re the first person I’ve seen since I came back, though, Sis.”  He beamed, relaxed for the first time in a long while.  

“I’ll likely head back to Dalaran tomorrow, but I figure I should stop by the keep at some point.”

“Probably,” she admitted.  “Furlough starts tomorrow, so make sure you stay out of trouble.”  Quin smiled crookedly.  “Maybe your wife can help with that, since M ordered her to stay out of combat zones and take it easy.”

She went quiet for a moment, reaching up to ruffle his hair as she tried to gather her thoughts.  “Roiya cooked tonight,” she said softly.  “It was supposed to be for the games and celebration, but with the weather out there right now, it seemed safer to cancel.  We were at Aekatrine’s.”

“Yeah, the weather’s been too nasty to fly.  Hence why I’m here instead of the keep.  Took a portal from Dalaran to Stormwind, then the Deeprun here.  Gryphon Masters have been loathe to let their mounts in and around Dun Morogh.  And Aren’s still in Dalaran, so it looks like I’m probably going to bed down here for the night, emergency notwithstanding.”  He smiled brightly as she ruffled his hair, letting out a small happy noise.

“Sad that I missed the festivities, but it’s okay.  At this point, I feel like I work more for other groups than I do for the Servitors.”  He looped his arms around Quin, hugging her tightly for a moment.

“What’s that for?” she asked softly, peering at him.

“What, I can’t hug my Sister?”  He grinned.

“No, in all truth, I’ve missed you all.  It’s been rough staying away from everyone.”  He shrugged slightly.  “It’s just one of those things I have to deal with, but it doesn’t mean I like it.  I miss you, Lammy, M, Eth, Roiya, everyone.”

A slight, crooked smile appeared.  “We miss you, too, Anny.  There have been a few times lately where we probably could have used your help.  I’ve been sticking to the Keep most of the time myself, trying to keep the infirmary in working order.”

“I know.”  He exhaled softly.  “The issues on the Isles keep me busy, but I’m going to try to be around more often than I have been.”  He hummed softly, picking up his mug and taking a deep drink from it.  “Though I suppose seeing you would put me at ‘more often than I have been’ right off the bat.”  He snickered.

She choked on a laugh.  “There is that.  I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been worried even though Lyyn kept saying you were okay that I shouldn’t but I think she knows by now that even when she says I shouldn’t, I do, because dammit, I know you too well and I know her and neither of you like it when I worry.”

Anthus smirked a little, setting his mug down.  “I know you worry because you care, so in that regard, I’m glad you’re worried about me.  Shows that you give a damn.”  He laughs softly.  “That said, I’m not happy that I’m the source of your worries and woes.”  He reached up to ruffle her hair in turn.  “I’ll try and be around so you can worry less, okay?  Though obviously, I’ve gotta keep close to Lyyn, just to be safe.  Since, y’know… with child and all.”

Quin nodded, exhaling quietly.  “I think everyone would like that.”  She stared down at her hands for a few long moments, then cleared her throat quietly.  “We got a surprise tonight.  One of those Winter Veil surprises that you don’t expect and don’t know what to do with sometimes.”

Anthus paused.  “...who’s pregnant?”  He asked, chuckling softly.

She burst out laughing and shook her head.  “No, no, nothing like that.  I wish it was something that simple.  No.”  She sobered after a moment, then swallowed hard, looking at him.  Her voice got very quiet, very gentle.  “Sky’s alive.”

Anthus’s face went blank for a moment, as he attempted to process that information.  “...no, that’s… I saw her dead… she…”  He pursed his lips for a moment as he thought, closing his eyes for a moment.  “...this must be a trick.”

“It sure as hell seemed like her to me,” Quin said quietly.  “Fro and the Commander and Roiya and Jo seemed to think so, too.  I guess M found her with some survivors when she was off...doing whatever the hell M does.”  She took a ragged breath. “I offered to tell you and to tell Cere.  She only wanted me to tell you.  I guess she realizes that she needs to be the one to talk to Cere.”

Anthus pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly.  “...I’m skeptical. I’m REALLY skeptical.  I suppose I should go find ‘her’ and see with my own eyes…”  He exhaled slowly.  “Where?”  He asked, his speech becoming much more clipped and short.

“When I left, she was at Aekatrine’s with Roiya and everyone else.  Seems like folks were getting ready to leave, though, so I don’t know if she’s still there or what.”  Quin sighed.  “Don’t do anything rash, okay?  If this is real--and I want to believe that it is because we’ve lost way too much already--then she’s been through hell and it shows.  Don’t--” She stopped, took a deep breath, then started again.  “Don’t take out any pain on her, okay?”

“...I only want to make sure it is, indeed, her, and not some Dreadlord in her skin or something worse.”  He rose from his seat.  “...I’m going to go talk to her.”  He pushed himself back from the barstool, entirely focused on what he needed to do.

“Be careful, okay?”

“Always, Quin.”  He patted the firearm on his hip as he turned, heading for the door.

Quin swallowed hard, watching after him for a brief moment before she downed what was left in his mug and rose to follow him out the door.

(Written with Anthus!)