SUCH A TWIST FFFFFFFFF))
Starlight and a faint purple light illuminated the steps of the spire, the ceiling inset with panes of stained glass of a starry night sky and shining with the occasional ray of warm golden light. Magical torches flickered in their sconces on the walls; the brackets that held them artfully shaped into the symbol of the Kirin Tor, the eye, while the flames themselves were arcane in nature and the cause of the purple glow that was the dominant lighting the tiled hall. Small tiles made a scene of a grassy, flowered meadow beneath those passing through and finished the overall theme of being outdoors.
Amavia smiled at the care taken in all of it; it was hard sometimes living in cramped quarters above the clouds and she supposed the entire design was meant to soothe those residing in this luxurious spire. To remind them of the earth that was so far from their feet and make them feel more at ease. Amavia was feeling far from that now; her stomach clenched and the annoyance she felt at her darling “stubborn ass” was what had driven her here.
An old scrap of paper was held tight in her gloved fist, the thin blue leather wrinkling the edges of it as she stood on the landing. She’d never intended to go here and if she had any ideas about making this trip it would have involved Jeffrey coming with her. But Jeffrey had other things to do and she knew they were important to accomplish. She, however, had questions the young man would never answered. Though why his older brother would, she had no idea.
Absently her hands smoothed the summer sky blue robe and adjusted the golden, corded belt that hung low on her hips. It was a gorgeous robe and one she’d lovingly stitched together herself. A cream colored undershirt peeked through the darting along the sleeves, puffing out delicately and protecting the neckline from being anything but decent. Percy would be livid with her was all she could think now as she raised her hand to rap firmly on the elegantly carved wooden door.
There was mature, but feminine, laughter from several women on the other side of the door. Mock 'disappointed' Oooos and Awwws took their place as someone broke away and made their way to the door. It took a moment to get the door open, as evidenced by the sound of several physical locks being undone.
Now, who would such a high profile member of the Kirin Tor have to keep out that couldn't be kept at bay by a simple spellward? Jealous peers certainly wouldn't be stopped by metal and wood. Nor would hired assassins.
Curious.
Leaning on his elbow against the door frame, George himself was the first thing to appear in the doorway. His eyes were light green, but a natural color free of the corruption that plagued the Sin'dorei and her very own beloved. He also had a smile, one that fit his face and actually enhanced his good looks, rather than the awkward or malicious smirk others wore.
For just a second as he took her in, that smile actually wavered. She actually caused George Worthington II to feel something less than pleasure.
The damn man had probably made a few tasteful quips at Annabelle's funeral, for Light's sake.
George recovered quickly and smoothly though, feigning surprise instead of unhappiness. He arched his eyebrows and began to slide out into the hall, calling over his shoulder. "I'll just be a moment longer, my lovely snapdragons!"
As he opened the door a little wider for the momentum to close it again, three elegant and beautiful women could be seen lounging and gossiping on long couches and pillowed hammocks inside. None of them looked like call girls per se, but they were all quite at ease and certainly enjoying themselves (with or without George around).
The glance was just for a moment, as he closed his personal paradise off to her and wiped his hands with a soft grin.
"That Hawkins girl, that's who you are, yes siree. What can I do for you, Miss Hawkins? Spot of tea? A portal perhaps? Oh, no you're quite talented on your own I hear..." He snapped his fingers in quick succession as if trying to remember something.
"Ah, yes, I know just the thing for a girl like you..." Shiny red and amber streaks wrapped around his fingers and he cupped his hands together for just a moment, before producing a glittering cupcake. The cupcake itself was rather plain, but it had a real quill (and an expensive one at that) sticking up out of it for decoration. Even though he offered it over silently, it was quite clear that he had been keeping an eye on her exploits with Jeffrey.
He probably knew a lot of things he never mentioned.
The only reason she caught the minute slip in expression was her determination not to look at the bevy of gorgeous women he had awaiting him inside. Somewhere deep inside her, Amavia prayed that Jeffrey didn’t possess such playboy tendencies.
He was too awkward.
And charm? While George had it in spades his baby brother seemed to actively work against possessing such a thing.
Amber eyes were almost brown in the light of the hall but flashed brightly in delight at his trick, one she so often did but with less glamorous results.
“You may call me Amy.” She held the sweet in one hand and gently removed the feather, licking icing from the nib. “Or Quill, whichever you prefer, sir.”
She slipped the quill gently into her satchel and returned her eyes to his lovely green ones as soon as she was finished. They were a color that was pleasing and she found herself enjoying looking at but never could she get lost in them the way Jeffrey’s blue-green gaze consumed her. There was no burning nor explosions in her chest when they locked eyes.
Did she want to stand here and see more of his artistic magic? Yes.
Did she want to pin him to the wall and kiss him like she so often wanted with his brother? No.
“I’m very apologetic for taking you away from your guests and I’ll try to keep this brief. Your brother almost died yesterday. And I am not being the overdramatic, wilting fiance here.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead in a mock swooning gesture. “Whatever occurred with your father began a series of events that led to him bleeding out on the floor of his lab. Would you please tell me what happened? He won’t speak a word of it.”
Though she certainly hadn’t intended to beg and would scoff at anyone suggesting she was, her lower lip instinctively pressed into the tiniest of pouts as she looked up at the older, wiser, and much more powerful mage.
And her soon to be brother-in-law.
"Almost died you say? Well it's a good thing he didn't because you see I have a very strict-" George held up two fingers in a very stern gesture, "-two funeral per year policy and I'm trying to save the last one for someone famous."
The fingers that had previously been gesturing at her became laced and he set them behind his head as leaned against the door. He was taking this all very nonchalantly, though that was likely his nature rather than a lack of concern for Jeffrey.
"Now, to speak most truthfully my lovely Amy, I wasn't actually there myself!" He looked at her suddenly and cracked another smile. "But I have a good idea what happened and none of it should have involved our lil' Jeffers bleeding out on any floors. So it would seem we have a mystery on our hands, an area that's more your expertise than mine, wouldn't you say?"
He was just teasing her now. Clearly he knew something he wasn't sharing. Not that he seemed to be hiding anything either, though. As he'd said, he wasn't there so there was no guilty implications to be swept under the rug. It was just another chance to play and be frivolous with his daily life.
Though the nature of the discussion was very serious she couldn’t help but give a soft giggle at the nickname “Jeffers”, repeating it under her breath with a smile. There was something about George Worthington II that was very calming and relaxing and she could see why ladies would flock to him. She couldn’t imagine him taking over his father’s position and wondered if he even wanted to.
Would a jokester even desire such responsibility?
Had the Archmage once been as carefree and funny as his eldest (only) son?
“Mm, I’m hot on the case, George but my star witness has gone mum.” She winked and felt around in her bag for one of the three pendants she’d recovered off the bodies. “I had assumed the fellows chasing him were other Kirin Tor magi, based on their cries about his attack on Archmage Worthington. But these were the only things on them and upon closer inspection they didn’t look like any Kirin Tor I’ve ever seen.”
The pendant was offered to him, the smile still ready on her lips as she glanced from the jewelry back to the man. “But I am so limited with my exposure. I tried to sketch the tattoos on their faces but, well I think I know now who sent them.”
She licked a dollop of icing that had bled onto her gloved fingertip and sighed.
“Your Jeffers though can be such a stubborn mule. I’m afraid he’s gotten himself so deep into something dangerous and he won’t tell me a lick of it. He was rather sore with me yesterday for making him get treatment but I have a strict one death per year policy and we’ve already gone far past my limit and I’m not sure who to send the notice of fees to.”
He reclined the rest of his body against the wall as he brought his hand down, almost crossing his legs at the ankle. Smiling at something he considered wonderful, his affirmation all but filled the hallway.
"That old man holds his own, no doubt about it. If he wanted to go after lil' Jeffers, he'd have done it himself. You are quite correct that these do not belong to the Kirin Tor."
His hand extended to take the scarab from her, his smile flickering again. It grew smaller, though it refused to disappear completely. He looked like a man buried deep in nostalgia, which was odd considering how youthful he was.
"Yeah, I can imagine he's not talking a lot about it. Never was the same after his accident- not that he was really a JOY to be around before then, but you catch my point. And after Mom died, well... yeah, I can imagine he's not talking a lot about it."
He sniffed and shrugged off all the bad feelings that were trying to so underhandedly sneak up on him. His eyes voraciously wandered over the scarabs and it was amazing that he didn't just swallow them whole. It was the information and clues he was looking for though.
Maybe solving mysteries ran in the family?
"After he went all psychotic on the old man," George gestured around his head wildly in mock waving of Jeffrey's own passionate casting style, "I had some samples sent to the lab. He's not supposed to be able to cast magic, you know. I mean, we all know he said he was doing... that-" the word fell off George's tongue like a filthy sin and it took a long moment before he could get the taste out of his mouth and continue.
"But we all figured he was just doing it for you. To think lil' Jeffers was actually being naughty, naughty, naughty..." He held the scarab up and peered at it curiously. The man didn't seem to be aware that he had trailed off.
“Naughty is a polite way of putting it, Lord Worthington. While I wouldn’t go so far as to say “evil” - and I may be biased because I love him so - he is determined and in that determination he has gotten reckless. We know he’s headstrong and proud but I assure you, this isn’t for me.”
The girl wet her lips again and adjusted the cords that served as a belt to her robe. While she wasn’t a classic beauty she had been winked at and whistled at twice this morning after she went home and changed. Would Jeffrey even so much as notice she was wearing clothes? She could wear a burlap sack and not brush her hair for weeks and she would bet all the money she had left the Jeffrey wouldn’t say a peep because he just didn’t see.
“I ah, I know how he started and I think I have a firm grip on the why but I’m worried. I know what is tolerated down there,” she said the word with a grimace that left little question as to what part of the city she meant, “but I don’t want to get him in trouble. These people that attacked him, well, I can assure you they won’t be bothering him anymore.”
Fingertips lightly drummed against her hip and she pursed her lips, thinking a moment and almost seeming to forget he was there or that she was standing at his doorway.
“He can be a real joy when he just relaxes. It’s hard to get him to and the moments are infrequent but he can be really funny. And always sweet in those rare times.”
"Now that I would pay to see, my dearest Amy." George arched an eyebrow at her and offered the scarab back. At the last moment though, he folded it back into his hand and withdrew. "Do you, ah, mind if I hold on to this one? I could do a great deal of good with it and some more time, I think."
He smirked and began to pocket it. As if she'd refuse him, Jeffrey's brother and a far superior ranking mage within their order- why, the very idea was laughable! It was his first display of true arrogance, but even then it was handled with much more sophistication and grace than Jeffrey ever would have shown.
"Your conscious may rest easy, sweet Amy, because I'm quite certain they were acting illegally in trying to murder lil' Jeffers. Whoever they may be, they weren't authorized to attack anyone. I know that much." He rolled his eyes upwards and glanced at something curious on the ceiling.
"That said, Jeffers is lucky that he attacked the old man and not someone, say, that didn't absolutely adore him. That kind of love is the only reason his ugly mug isn't plastered all over the city. Then you'd be wanted for harboring him, you know." He gave a good stretch as if bored by the 'lecture' he was obligated to give her.
"Have you thought about maybe getting a new boyfriend?"
“I gave it to you so that you would keep it, Lord Worthington. It was my hope your curiosity would be sparked as well.” Gloved fingers darted into her bag and she produced a folded sheet of paper.
“I drew their markings from memory and a few hours later and after sustaining some injuries myself so they may not be completely accurate. But, perhaps they still will be of use.” The sheet contained the profiles she’d drawn of the men with little notes about their curious blindness and general build and height as well. The way they dressed, notations on their synchronized drone way of casting. It was as thorough as she could be and though doubtless the tattoos were not entirely correct she’d labored over making them as spot on as she could.
“I understand that my association with him could cost me dearly. But to shove him away because of that isn’t my nature. I have ambitions and dream, yes, but they all involve him being in my life. I never intended to be where I am now and though I love it and adore every moment of it I would give it up in a heartbeat for him.”
The toggles of her satchel were spiting her, refusing to close as she tried to maneuver them with just one hand - and that one full of a shard of the staff the priestesses had returned to her - and it made her flustered. Made her cool demeanor slip again.
“You certainly have oodles of personality and ooze charm that has an effect on every woman but your little brother has his own gifts too. Not to mention he’s gorgeous.”
Finally the buckles slide home and she righted herself, her empty hand on her hip and a smile bright on her lips. “Will you come to our wedding? He’s insistent that we have it before the end of the Midsummer Festival.”
"Those must be some very sad, sad ambitions, pretty Amy. To amount to lil Jeffers' company?" He shuddered dramatically in revulsion at the thought.
"But!" He clapped his hands and skipped to attention, smiling again.
"It's your funeral- oops, wedding, wedding I meant, not mine, so let's see that you two go out with a bang at least, right? Fireworks, drinks, escorting lovely women... why, I see no reason not to attend! Has he, by chance would you know, told the old man that this is happening? Or your dear ol' Mom that came shooting up the place last I saw her? I didn't think she'd ever agree to such a thing."
He frowned comically as he reflected on the matter.
"Well, I guess we can't all love lil Jeffers, or there'd be nothing left of him for his blushing bride!" The joke was wrapped up in itself and a playful tease towards many people. From himself, to her, to Jeffrey, to even Svafa- was there anyone that he hadn't a quip for?
Amavia chuckled and gestured with the piece of wood in her hand, the part of its engraving visible for a moment while she did so. “I believe he’s keeping quiet about it but I will make actual invitations and see to it that one is sent both our parent’s ways. It wouldn’t be good manners to keep them off the guest list and I’m sure as adults they can behave as such for a few hours.”
Her head tilted to the side and she smiled at the older mage sweetly. “I see why he is so fond of you. You’re quite endearing and I’m sure your lady friends are a puddle of pouting and ample curves awaiting you so I promise to only take a few more moments of your time.”
The wood was extended to him as she hoped he could help her with yet another puzzle. “The kaldorei priestesses found this and other remains of it among his things. There was another piece to it though, wasn’t there? I checked myself but couldn’t find the gem.”
A great deal of his humor evaporated at her words, and even more at the question and the broken staff. It seemed she had slighted him in some way that he wasn't expecting.
"Right. Mom gave him that as a present, and who would guess he'd break it attacking the old man? Anyway. I have what's left of the gem inside. Come with me would you? Oh- and, ah, let's pretend you're not the sweetheart of a very unfavored young man, eh?"
He smoothly tried to wrap an arm around her shoulder and guide her inside. The women barely noticed his return at first, quite content to chatter and eat their obnoxiously small treats. Growing closer though, one could hear they were not chattering about obnoxious, mortal things. Instead, they were discussing the nearing convention of dragons.
The new Aspect of the Blue Dragonflight.
Knowing what George’s position was within the Order, it loaned a great deal of idea to who those 'ample curves' really were. ‘Snapdragons’ he had called them.
Amavia didn’t duck or dart away from him and, if her slight motion could be called such, she leaned into his arm as he guided her inside. George was not at all threatening and for his own peace of mind she could swallow being touched.
Her own quip died on her tongue and she looked the women over with a shy smile. Truly they were quite lovely and a swell of giggles fought to leave her lips.
Percy would be livid.
Amy ducked her head and struggled to mask her amusement as they continued on. The topic at hand was of great interest to her as well and her ears pricked to try and catch any good news she could pass on to her whelp. He’d been starved for news of his kind and part of her assumed that was his biggest gripe about being left behind.
If only she knew what sort of trouble the whelp was sowing without here there.
"Kalecgos will never be the next Aspect. He's too soft on the mortals!"
"Indi, hush yourself! Talking like that is what started this whole messy business in the first place."
"We may have lost the war, my dearest Vera, but that doesn't mean we were wrong."
"Oh, Indi..."
The last phrase was sighed sadly as they passed by, but George offered them all a charming smile and waved. That cheered them up. Anything else that may have been useful was suddenly replaced by the same cougar smiles Svafa had worn for Liandar.
"Now that's one mortal I'm glad survived the Nexus Wars."
Then they were in a side room, and George's arm slipped off her like she had suddenly contracted the plague. This room was different from the entertaining parlor they'd crossed through. It was completely devoid of decorations, and nothing sparkled at all. It almost looked like a room Svafa would keep, but no- it was too messy.
Jeffrey.
It was a room Jeffrey would have kept.
The shelves were stacked with boxes of files and there was a cup of coffee, still hot, on the desk at the far side of the room. The slit of a window was very small and high off the floor, no doubt opening to another room rather than the outside world because it wasn't stained that beautiful gold and amber that Dalaran spires were almost required to have. George's tall stature cast a long shadow over the desk as he moved in front of the window.
Darkened as he was, the faint gray light formed an outline around him.
"You'll probably be wanting the pieces then, to bring back to him?" He asked in a tired way as he unlocked a desk drawer and slid it open.
“I’m going to mend it for him. I have utter confidence that I can whip up some sort of enchantment to rebind the structural ties of it and seal it together once more. I excel at enchantments, Lord Worthington.” The girl glanced around the room, keen eyes making notes of each detail and especially of the contrast to the rest of his suite.
“I hope it isn’t rude of me and if it is I apologize now, but the company you keep, well I’m jealous.” She held up a hand and smiled, waving off anything that could be a question to her tastes in a partner. “I miss my own Blue friend. Is it acceptable for them to walk about as humans in the city? My mother told me it was absolutely forbidden but I’m sure Percy would beha- alright I’m not certain about that at all. He’s quite handsome as a human and hilarious and intelligent but he isn’t well...” The girl drifted off and tapped two fingertips to the side of her head.
“Far be it for me to judge a dragon but I don’t think he’s right in the head. I know he wrote you and I’m sure it was ridiculous and I apologize but he means well.”
Amy shrugged and her smile wavered as she leaned against the doorframe, smoothing her robes nervously. The way he had slipped away from her had served to undo all the ease she’d felt; he was a noble and a far superior mage and she was a commoner and apprentice. He’d probably burn his shirt now for having touched her and it made her feel awkward and out of place.
"Sweet Amy, he would be welcome here given his age and color. There will be prejudice abound, I admit, but no one's going to risk igniting another Nexus War by acting upon that. The Flight itself has greater problems than tracing down one stray whelp as well, so I don't think you'll have to fret over him being 'reclaimed'."
George didn't make eye contact with as he talked, which only alienated him further from how he usually was. It gave her time to look around and observe the details at least. Most of the boxes were labeled with case numbers of all things, and some had obviously been sealed with low profile enchantments.
What exactly did he do in this room?
His wandering hand in the drawer found the pieces it was looking for, and he set them on the desk before sticking his hand in his pocket. The same pocket where the scarab pendant was resting. He used his free hand to gesture openly at the fragments.
"I don't know if it deserves to be rebuilt, Amy, but that's not my decision to make."
No adoration this time. No sweet, lovely, dearest, sugar-coated word as he had always put next to her name. It didn't seem to be anything against her though, but rather the very nature of the room and the object of their conversation was beginning to stifle him. But why shouldn't it have, really?
The death of their mother. Jeffrey's disowning. Shattered family bonds. Violence. Work. And now peasants that didn't know their place was on a farm somewhere.
But George would never think so drastically about her, would he?
"Was there anything else?"
“Nothing at all, Lord Worthington.” These details were filed away in her own mind and she pushed lightly away from the frame and reached for the shards.
“I am grateful for your time and I will strive to keep Jeffrey out of trouble so I needn’t ever take more of it.” Her slight frame dipped in a curtsy as she closed her hand around the slivers of the gem. “If Percy does make it to Dalaran though, I’m certain he will endeavor to see you. Were he a girl I’d say he fancies you.”
The polite farewell hid her smirk and she had all but banished it from her features as she righted herself. “He talks about you whenever we speak and is positively livid you never returned his letter. If you need his address I can include it in the invitation.”
With a cupcake in one hand and the shards in the other she lacked cover for the smile that was quickly returning to her lips again. He had been so helpful and though he doubtless loathed her the idea of Percy sitting outside his door and pounding upon it had the girl failing to bury her giggles beneath an icy demeanor.
“He said you have nice hair.”
At the memory of the whelp lounging before a mirror, playing with his own as a human and ranting about that “damned George Worthington and his damn nice hair” she couldn’t hold it back, and burst into giggles.
That brought some humor back to him, and he smiled at her with certainty.
"I will make it a priority to write back to him when I have the time to do so. Please, allow me to see you out, lovely Amy."
The women, dragons, paid no attention to her as he opened the door and tried to escort her back to the front door. They didn't even seem to be aware of her. Their bright azure eyes were distant and none of them made a sound. Perhaps they were on another plane entirely.
"Thank you." He said as he unlocked the front door, looking at her fondly. A bit too fondly, perhaps.
The girl smiled and canted her head to the side, trying to put aside how creepy the women in his parlor appeared now. Whatever they were doing she wasn’t keen on watching and as soon as the front door was open she slipped out onto the landing once more.
“For what, Lord Worthington?” Her question was mild and she smiled at him.
It had to be her first true, happy, bright smile in weeks.
For that she should be thanking him.
“Bothering you during ah, tea time? Promising you that a gimpy-tailed whelp will soon come knocking? He screeches too. Loudly.”
“No, pretty Amy.”
He smirked and it seemed he was hesitant to follow her out there into the hall. He decided against it, for whatever reason, and stayed in the doorway.
“Thank you for coming into our lives.” Because that wasn’t cryptic or anything. The next smile he offered her was a rather forlorn one, and it was followed by him attempting to close the door without looking at her.
Amy merely bowed slightly and winked at him, turning on heel. “Thank you for not sending me away.” She could play his cryptic game too and smirked to herself.
Did she mean from their lives? His door? Away from his brother?
She made no effort to clarify as she practically skipped down the descending ramp and away from the strange and curious apartment of George Worthington II. There was much more to him than she’d imagined and a part of her was relieved to know he wasn’t just a flirtatious young man.
The labeled boxes made her quirk a brow and she giggled.
Maybe he was just the charming detective that many of her novels spoke of.
Back in the parlor, George was wandering to the small, darkened room. He shut the door behind him and decided not to disturb the merely meditating dragons that were gracing the room. They felt safe here, and for good reason. George had never, would never, disturb them in their most vulnerable hours.
He took a deep breath and leaned against the door, staring at the dirty window over the desk. All the dust was caught in the subdued beam of light, but sadly didn't sparkle like it did through the more majestic windows throughout the city.
The scarab pendant was fished out of his pocket, and he had to brush away a bit of sand it had gathered while in there. He tapped the hardened shell, a faint green glow at his fingertip. In moments it began to unfold its legs and stretch. It crawled all over his uplifted hand in a frenzy, searching for something as it sang its enchanted song.
"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
"I love you. I lOve you. I lovE you. I loVe you. I lOve yOu, love you, loVE YOu, love you, love you, LovE yoU.
"I-I-I-I-I love you- love you- love you.
“...We... all... love you."
George cracked a smile with just the corners of his mouth, letting the beetle scurry off his extended hand on to a nearby shelf. He thought for a moment and it inspired his soft reply.
“Yes, we do...”
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