World of Warcraft®

Her scarlet locks fell long past her shoulders, veiling her otherwise exposed bosom. What remained of her makeup from the night prior had been smeared all over her face, or long since been absorbed by the sheets. What remained of the regal and seductive gestalt of the Magistrix Illusiel Verdande now stared back at her from the ornate mirror entrenched onto the dressing table, naked and vulnerable. She thought she resembled a wilted flower, somehow. Scarlet petals having bloomed in haste, and died before the sun set. The intense glow of her emerald eyes remained the only feature on her face which appeared unchanged by the nights events. The reality of her disposition washed over her, somehow. She had known full well how she'd feel when she woke up. She had accepted it then, and she would accept it now. She just needed to give it some time.

Her silent tranquility was disturbed by a grunting sound coming from somewhere behind her, only to die away again moment later. Through the ornate mirror, the silhouette of the muscular man finally stirring from his sleep seemed distant. It was as if the Magistrix was watching a painting come to life, rather than a reflection of what was happening mere feet behind her.

The Magistrix suddenly became aware of other things reflected in the mirror. From the gray light pouring in through the closed, veiled windows, the Magistrix deduced that it must be morning. And that it was raining. From the smell of the room, she concluded that she was in mortal lands. Stormwind, to be more precise, due to the ornamental decorations that covered the mirror before her. It was crude and rugged, yet still possessed a beauty that you would never find in the undying lands of Quel'thalas. The asymmetry, the imperfection of the piece is what made Illusiel appreciate it. She let her mind wander for a moment, wondering if their imperfection and fragility was what made mortal men so much more attractive to her than her own kindred, but she quickly dismissed such foolish notions.

Could she be certain that she was in Stormwind, though? The dressing table before her certainly seemed to have its origins in that crude, forested land by the sea... And if one were to import a dressing table, surely one would choose something that was actually considered beautiful by human standards, no?

What did become obvious after a few more moments of reflection was that she was most likely inside an inn of sorts. The room was simple, with a big bed taking up most of the space. What little remained was filled up by the dressing table and a fireplace that seemed well-tended to. Nothing else in the room appeared to be as ornate as the dressing table, or rather, the mirror that was framed behind it. Illusiel was oddly bemused by this.

'Mmmm...Oh... Hey.'

Illusiel still couldn't see the mans face in the reflection. By some odd intuition, she knew that he was smiling. She ignored him, instead running her fingers through another lock of her hair, d@@@#!# it over her shoulder as she did so.

'Last night was... intense. I don't usually... I mean, I don't even know your name.'

Illusiel was certain that the young man attempted to sound apologetic, but there was too much pride in his voice for the desired effect to be noticed. He made to sit up, but the sound of clanking metal soon alerted Illusiel to the fact that her companion had become aware of the cuffs chaining him to the bed-frame.

'Heh. I guess you're even wilder than I recalled. Are all of you she-elves like this?'

She could see his face in the mirror now. He might have been in his mid-twenties, perhaps his early thirties. It was hard for Illusiel to tell the age of humans. He did possess all the usual features she enjoyed, however. Black, long hair, intense blue eyes and a raven-like nose. Yes, he would do well, as had all before him. Illusiel smirked at the thought, wiping away the last of her remaining make-up with a wet piece of cloth. Her lips went from a deep crimson to a dark scarlet, a shade brighter than her hair.

'Are you going to tell me your name?'

The young man had interpreted her smirk as flirtation. He seemed confident, strong. Illusiel remained silent.

'Mine's Clarke. Gregory Clarke. I'd shake your hand, but...'

The sound of clanking metal once more filled the room. Illusiel excised utmost restraint not to laugh, but Clarke made no such futile attempts. He had a deep, bass-like voice, and his chuckle, Illusiel was certain, shook the room.

'Well... My father always did say I talked too much, but I don't know, I find it one of my more charming features. If this is your idea of a second date, I won't object. You have obviously fallen madly in-love with my voice, allowing me to do all the speaking. But I promise I'll stop if you tell me your name.'

Illusiel rolled her eyes, ignoring the increasingly charming and increasingly annoying human being. She made to cover herself with a sheet that was draped over the chair.

'Right. So. Gregory Clarke, twenty-eight winters old. Unmarried, but not due to lack of trying, believe me. I'm born and raised in Menethil Harbor, and my parents were fishermen. Came here, to Stormwind, to join the kings army at the age of seventeen. They rejected me. Twice. But third time's the charm, eh? What else... Uhm, I like cats. And dogs. Most animals, actually. Well not so much horses, which you probably think is odd, right? I mean, I'm in the guard after all, I should bloody well know how to ride a horse. Well I don't. I won't tell anyone if you won't... Oh right, do you know what a horse is? Or a cat? Or a dog? Do you have them in elf-land? I'm sorry, I can't pronounce it. What's it called? Kal'Talis? Kel'Malas?'

'Quel'thalas.'

Clarke sat in bemused silence. He had been stunned with a smile on his face. The elven girl hadn't shifted her gaze from her own reflection while speaking, and he didn't blame her. He hadn't taken his eyes off her either. He was curious though, as to whether the elven language in its native form was always spoken with what he could only interpret as sorrow, or whether the elven girl with whom he had just spent an unforgettable night was saddened.

'Kuhell'Falas, ha? Sounds pretty. I bet your name is even prettier though.'

'Few things are.'

'Why don't you let me be the judge of that?'

'I'm going to eat you.'

'I'm sorry?'

'I said.' Illusiel shifted her gaze away from her own eyes, meeting with Clarke's without actually turning her head away from the mirror, 'That I'm going to eat you.'

Clarke felt a jolt of excitement swell up inside his chest. He felt dizzy, not only from being dehydrated from the long night, but also, he was certain, because he was currently drowning in those intense, green eyes, brimming with magical energy.

'Well go ahead, elf-girl. Eat me.'

He tried to adjust his position on the bed, but the metal-cuffs restrained him from moving further. Clarke was a bit perplexed by this. If he didn't know better, he could've sworn that they'd actually grown shorter since he first tried to sit up.

His mind quickly went elsewhere, however. The elven girl had risen from her dressing table and, seemingly as if through magic, appeared on the other side of the bed, sitting with her back against him. Her silhouette was silently staring at the window, and the gray light that poured in through it.

'If you're not gonna tell me your name...', Clarke allowed a small sigh to escape his lips, '...can you at least explain why you're here with me? I'm sure there loads of elf-lads that would be heads over heels with you. Unless they're as girly as all my mates say they are... I've never seen one. Hey, is that it? You wanted a mans-man? Cause I'm telling you, I can be-'

'You are mortal.'

'...Well yes, I guess I am.'

'Expendable.'

'Well, I don't know about that...'

'You live such short, meaningless lives. You lack all but the most base understanding of all things.... I suppose that is part of your appeal.'

'I'm not stupid, you know. I can count to one-hundred and fifty-three.'

'But we elves, we are undying. Eternal. We endure, always. In spirit, if not in body. Like... Space, in an empty room. '

Clarke started to feel uncomfortable. He wasn't certain whether or not the elven girl was even speaking to him anymore. She was still facing the window, all he saw of her form was the long, scarlet locks that draped over her shoulders and far down on her back.

'Uhm... You know, I think it was better when we didn't talk. Perhaps you could go back to that "eating me" part?'

The girl turned to face him. Clarke smiled widely and laid his head back onto his pillow as he felt her warm breath wash over his neck and shoulder. The caress of her fragile fingers on his face. It was strange though, the dizziness he had begun feeling not long ago intensified. His sight became more and more clouded, and Clarke could swear he felt his strength wane.

'I'm... I'm not feeling so good. Hey, could you unchain me?'

Clarke was not sure whether he had actually uttered the words, or whether the whispers merely echoed over and over again inside his mind. He felt an intense heat on his lips. They were kissing passionately. Clarke wanted to open his eyes, but his lids felt to heavy.

Fatigue overcame him. It was as if his entire body was too tired to perform even the most basic of functions. The continued beating of his heart seemed to drain him immensely, and Clarke found he had trouble breathing. It was as if all that he was had somehow melted and then became air, air that was now being drained from his lips by a euphoric kiss. Clarke felt frightened and ecstatic at the same time, and he wasn't sure what was going on.

'Please... I don't... What are you doing?'

'Your father was right. You talk too much.'


Illusiel gently placed the comb back down onto the dressing room table. Her hair had been pinned up in a neat bun, and makeup had been used to dim her elven features to the best of her ability. She couldn't help it though. Her vanity had kept her before the very same mirror for an hour. However gray and miserable she had felt for the weeks leading up to this day, she now felt radiant. Beautiful. Vibrant. She was certain of it, admiring her own pale complexion and the stark contrast it held to her vibrant and vividly dark-crimson hair.

She spared a glance to the large bed behind her, where only a dried husk of a once human body remained, clumsily covered by stained sheets. There was no beauty in death, not when eternal youth and vivid colors were so readily accessible. Death was for mortals. Not for her.
But the shadow of sadness overcame her ever so slightly. She didn't feel it now, but she knew it was only a matter of time. Only a matter of time before the ecstasy she currently reveled in would dissipate. She would have to find another vital spirit to drain, and soon.

But that was a problem for tomorrow, far far away from now and here. Now, she would dance in the sun.

'Some flowers wither and die', Illusiel said melodiously to nobody in particular as she stood up, fully dressed. 'Others bloom forever.'

She left a few coins for the maid on the dressing table, and then proceeded to prance out of the room, into the day.