Amy + Jeffrey Moonbrook Blues

Moonbrook was a filthy place. It had been in ruins years before Deathwing came, but now it seemed worse. At least before the Shattering, it had been abandoned. Now it was flooded with the homeless and the depraved. The Depraved. That was undoubtedly where Jeffrey fell (though homeless was a good marker for him too). His small corner in the back of the town was unmistakable. The grass was dead and the ground stained by poured out experiments. He was just dumping his failures out around the building. The ground would be dead for who knew how much longer- but at least it seemed barren to begin with. One tree was by the door, and from it was hanging a Defias. Or, at least he had a defias mask at his chin. His arms were bound behind him, as were his ankles below. There were burns all over him, and scorch marks elsewhere on the ground. A warning to the Defias that refused to let him work in peace. As for the building itself, it was ramshackle and falling apart. There were gaping holes in the roof, but it looked like he'd strung up tapestries on the ceiling from inside, protecting his experiments from the rain.


Amavia settled her rocket down and glared at a transient who admired it with gleaming eyes. “If you so much as touch this I will turn you into a sheep. Lots of hungry people around here and sheep -are- so yummy.” Amber eyes were hard as she spoke though her hand flung a silver piece his way. It wasn’t much but she couldn’t stand to see these people suffer. The Defias claimed to be helping them. If this was helping she didn’t want to see hurt. A grubby hand snatched the coin out of the air and she smirked. “I’ll give you three more if you watch my rocket while I’m insider.” Even were he to try and activate it the key was in her pocket and it would malfunction if he attempted to ride it. Clever machine. Easy coin seemed more on his mind and he nodded as the girl parked it close to the hanging tree. Jeffrey. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she approached the door. From a manor to a shack, he couldn’t be doing well. Knuckles rapped firmly on the door and she whispered his name. The staff rested in the crook of her elbow and a large twine bound parcel sat at her feet. A few portals opened before she left the city had gained enough coin to purchase a few things. She hoped it was enough.


The door was opened quickly and a blade was the first thing to greet her. There were no outcries of how he didn't have time for their bullshit, or how he'd brook no more threats from the Defias scum. The blade usually said all that for him. When he saw it was his beloved, he let his hood fall back and lowered the blade through the crack. The door was opened wider. "Love. What are you doing here?"

Amavia gave a sly little smirk and rested her hand on the frame. "I've a problem, doctor. My favorite drug is so hard to get and I'm going through withdrawls. Maybe you could let me in and we could discuss payment and whether or not you can fulfill my needs?" One thin brow quirked and she winked at him. It was playful and flirty and she couldn't help it. Raoul and George were to blame in her mind; she couldn't help but be a little silly thanks to their influence.


"I'm not giving you any drugs, Amy." He responded to her flirtations with a flat lack of humor. He moved away from the door to let her in though. "How did you find me? I mean- I don't mind. I'm glad to see you, but..." He furrowed his brow and began to pack something away that was spread out on the table.

"Even if my drug of choice is -you-?" She smiled still and winked at him as she stepped inside the ramshackle home. The staff was held at her side and the parcel lifted lightly by the twine as she crossed the threshold. No common decency. But he was : -busy- and she interrupted him. "How is my husband? I missed you."

"He's alright." He was definitely -not- alright. The bone pile in the fireplace was larger now, and the telltale tank was sitting in the corner with a curtain over it. The water sloshed inside, the level lower than when it had been nearly full back in Dalaran. He picked something off the table and ate it, but it likely wasn't real food. "And my wife, how is she? I've missed her."

“Better now. I longed for you. Can I hug you, please?” Eager hands set his presents aside and she rested one on his hip. “I dreamed of your arms around me though I doubt they’d hold up to reality.” Her hand gave a squeeze to him and she smirked again. Still flirting and trying to be charming. The conditions in here worried her as did the lack of friendly squeaks from his familiar.

He looked up at her, blinking in surprise. "Yeah, of course. I wouldn't refuse you." He tried to smile but it looked exceptionally awkward.

Amavia stepped close to him and wrapped her arms around him, giving a sweet hug while her lips brushed at his. "I love you, baby. No matter what. Always. Never forget."

He returned the kiss in either a hurried or half-hearted way. "I love you too, Amy."

If she was discouraged that he wasn't playing back she didn't show it. "I brought you a few things. Gift first or practical things?"

"Practical. If it will help my work then you're not a minute too soon." He sounded excited at the prospect, giving her a quick hug before releasing her.


"More you than your work. But without you there can be none of it." She pushed the large brown paper bound parcel towards him, the twine scrapping lightly against it. Inside were sensible things. Nonperishable foods, soap and hygiene products, a few spare robes of a plain black color, things to cook meals with, a lighter to make a fire, bandages and a few healing tonics. Beneath all that rested a red scarf and a box containing a kit with vials and common practical reagents. Nothing illegal. Nothing that screamed of the fel or necromancy. Unless the purple blanket and pillow she'd included could be considered evil.

He shuffled through the items, but it was the scarf that gave him pause. It sparked something in him and he wasn't sure how to react. He lifted it out of the box and looked at it quietly. Behind her, the black and white photos of Editha caught his eye.

She was smiling but her eyes were elsewhere, taking in his new home and looking for his pet. Ratford was dear to her and she worried for the little creature. Wished she could keep an eye on him and his master. "Now, your gift."

"Right. Uh, let me just put this..." He held the scarf a bit tighter. "Right." Whatever he'd been planning to do was quickly forgotten and he looked at her expectantly.

Amavia smiled and reached behind her for the staff she'd leaned against the wall. The ruby had been the most difficult part to mend and required the most careful enchanting and sorcery she'd employed to date. Faint lines could be seen in the gem but the shaft of the staff itself looked pristine. Painstaking work had been done to mend the cracked splinters and she'd had to recarve a little of the words that had to be sanded down when it was all rejoined. Amavia had taken great pains to make it as perfect and true to the original as she could. While adding her own clever charm. "You were missing this."

His lips made a thin line and he stared at her hard.

His grim expression startled her and she almost dropped it. "I ah, I'm sorry if I overstepped. I just knew it was important to you and I tried very hard to make it exact. I'm sure some bits of it are missing but with a great deal of effort and determination it's almost as right as it was! I added a little something though and I hope you don't mind it's just you didn't like the cupcake last time but I worry about you! So, ah, if you just think of a flavor of muffin you desire it should summon
one. With the right word." She gave a nervous giggle. All the charm she'd had was gone now.

He stayed quiet, setting the scarf down on the table. The vials rattled on their rack and a thorny tumbleweed brushed up against the outside walls to make a scratching sound.

She gulped and her hand trembled around the staff. "I'll...I'll just take it way. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, Jeffrey."

"May I hold it?" He asked, sounding grim as she'd ever heard him. His eyes were cast down slightly, looking more at the staff than at her. As if it were sand, the scarf slipped from his fingers and vaguely coiled on the table's surface.

Silently she passed it to him and took a step to gather the red cloth in hand. If he allowed and didn't shy away she'd tie it around his neck and kiss his cheek.

He allowed her to do so, but the kiss wasn't returned. "My mother gave this to me." The light of the experiments shined on the engraved words. "I was supposed to be like you, Amy. That's what she wanted more than anything."

Amavia bit the tip of her gloves and pulled them off quickly, cupping his cheek with her bare hand. "I think that no matter what your mother would have just wanted you to be a good man. A better man than Line. Mothers love their children even when they aren't what they dream of. It's what mothers are supposed to do." Lips brushed against his other cheek and she smiled. "You were a good son to her. She couldn't have wanted for more."

"I don't think you know what you're talking about." He replied coolly, jerking his head away from her and moving around the table. "Thank you for this, Amy. It means a lot to me." He resisted the urge to spew about how HER mother had always been proud of her, and why shouldn't she have been? Amavia was a brilliant mage and a noble spirit on top of that. The subject needed to be changed though, and that was certain. "You still didn't tell me how you found my new lab."

His harsh dismissal of her sweet notions stung and she stepped away to lean against the wall where the staff had rested. "Very well." Stiff shoulders shrugged beneath her coat and she stared at the tapestries against the patchwork roof. "I'm your -wife.- It's my job to know where you are and what you're up to when we are forced to part."

-Then you know I'm planning to kill your mother?- He thought, and it almost left his lips too. The fact that his mouth -actually- opened and the sound -actually- began to play on his tongue forced him into a sharp, breathless, and hysterical laugh.

Amavia's lips quirked into a slight smile and she did her best to mask her concern. That wasn't that funny of a joke. Perhaps he was -that- lonely that any humor set him off. "Oh baby. My mama told me where you were at. Not quite sure what -she- was doing here though."

He shut his eyes and laughed a bit more, turning away from her. The staff was held in an obvious death grip.

She wet her lips and the smile faded as soon as his back was to her. "Baby why don't you sit down? I'll make you something to eat. You and Ratford. Where is that cute little monster?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in days." Without warning, he twirled the staff in his hands. The metal bottom was promptly smashed against an alchemy table, shattering several fragile beakers. He drew the rod back, sweeping the spilled and ruined experiments off to the floor. Breathing just a bit harder from the exertion, he brought the staff back to his chest. "What if I said I've already eaten?" From the corner, the subject finally grew bored with simply listening. She banged on the glass of the tank. "I've already eaten! Eaten! Eaten! What if I've already eaten!"

Amavia's eyes narrowed, a flash of pity in them. "Then I will just ask you to sit a few minutes while I test out a new spell. You need to keep better eye on the rat, he's -your- familiar. If you aren't going to care for him I'm taking him home with me." It was delivered in a flat no nonsense tone and she gently rooted in her satchel for her divination tome.

He laughed and covered his face with another hysterical chuckle. "I didn't want him. I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this."

"Then stop it! Stop playing at this mad, dark science! Stop playing with the fel! You were a -damn- fine detective. You could have had a promising career with the Law! We could have been partners! Instead I'm saddled with someone George is forcing on me! I don't want to work with Raoul! I want to be your partner!" It came out in a torrent and she tore at her hair a moment before she snatched her tome from her bag. "I AM taking him with me. If you want to see Ratford you can let me know."

He slumped into a sitting position on one of the lower alchemy tables. Runoff from the ruined experiments earlier were soaking into his shoes, but he didn't seem to mind. "Help me stop then." He muttered.

If Fate had ever been more kind to her Amavia could not recall the instance in her mind. Unlimited wealth, prestige, recognition from the Order for her brilliance would turn to ash in her hands right now were they to be handed to her in comparison to those four words he’d just grumbled at her. Amavia closed the gap between them and crouched, hands rested on his knees as she tried to meet his eyes. “I -will- help you. I will -never- give up on you. This I swear.” She lifted a hand from his knee and went to cup his cheek. “I think the first step is removing yourself from temptation. I know it will be hard but if you don’t have the things to do...to do -this-,” Her other hand waved over at the tank, “than you won’t. We can put the tomes away or burn them or sell them and the project can be released. We can go back to what we were.” Hope colored her words and her heart, so heavy upon entering this place, felt like it could soar now.

He jerked his head away from her touch again, still gripping the staff tight enough for his knuckles to flush white. "You want me to just throw away my work?" It sounded disbelieving, angry, or both.
She squeezed his knee slightly, that hope deflating partly. "You said to help you. To cease doing it I think the logical first step is to remove what tempts you to continue."

"I've given up so much, would STILL give up SO MUCH for this. Is my cause not noble, Amavia?" He leaned forward then, staring her directly in the eyes. "Doesn't that mean anything? Isn't it worth the small sacrifice to do what I'm doing?" He had true intentions in his eyes, though they were hardly altruistic.

She sighed but didn't drop her gaze from his. That blue-green that met her amber was not the color it -should- be. It was tainted and muddied in comparison to the regal trueblue that once stared back. "You said you wanted help. If you want to give this up, want to be the man you were, the man without any fel taint, than that is my suggestion. I don't know what else to tell you in regards to stopping. You can't just pick and choose with this. All magic is addictive. All magic corrupts."

"I'm lucky I can use magic at -all-, Amavia!" He almost growled it, obviously on edge because someone who could take it for granted so much was standing right in front of him. A sore, obvious reminder. "What would I even do then? How would I survive? I'm barely getting by as it is."

"You have a -brilliant- mind. We were partners and detectives -together-, why couldn't we be so again? You could learn a tradeskill, you could return to your father! I'm sure he'd find you something...something not like this." It was hard not to say evil or nefarious but with that -thing- in the tank so close by it almost slipped.

"You don't need -me- for a partner!" He tried to push on to his feet, using the staff to keep her at bay if she tried to push him back down. "You have your wonderful career and your plentiful magic! What do I have? I left my father to be with you! Would you rather he coerced me into a loveless marriage? Would you rather I sit around just reading stories about your wonderful adventures in the paper?" The anger bubbled up inside of him so much that he thought he heard a howling in his own head.

His sudden movements made her topple and fall from crouching to land on her rear, hands supporting her and arms stretched behind her. "No. I would rather have you happy. I would work my fingers to the bone to keep you fed and happy and -healthy- than see you like this. This hasn't been good for you and already I can see it taking its toll. And I do need you. I've always needed you and I always will."

"So you would rather I just be a PET." He growled, not even offering to help her up as he moved towards the tank. "I'm sick of living in your shadow, Amavia. I'm sick of living in shadows period!" He used the staff to tear down a black curtain, but the windows were so filthy that it hardly seemed to make a difference. It was poetic enough that he laughed again helplessly.

She helped herself up and dusted off the filth from her coat. Anger boiled inside her and she bit her lip to hold back harsh words a moment. Didn't he listen to a -word- she said? "No! You are not a -pet-! You are my -partner-, my other half. You've never been in my shadow and if you've thought so you're just being dramatic!" One foot stomped the ground and she flipped open her divination tome. "You are brilliant and clever and cunning. Without you we wouldn't have broke the cases we did. My magic only counts for so much, baby, and it never was enough. I -need- you."

11:54 [Journal]: rode up a bit, then the staff shook violently too. It almost seemed like he was going to lose his temper and whirl around to strike her with it. "It doesn't matter. Even once I give this up, I'll have nothing. I'll -be- nothing."
11:54 [Journal]: "Yeah, we'll see how much you need me when you're standing on some stupid stage somewhere being decorated as a bloody hero. Right. I'll be in the alley somewhere cheering you on, encouraging you to go say hello to your mother or-" His shoulders shook and

11:56 [Amavia]: "You will not! Together we will work at finding you something you excel at! You're so smart and dedicated. You can't give up before you even try!" She pursed her lips and sighed heavily, not looking at him as she tried to find the spell she needed. "I
11:56 [Amavia]: will never be a hero. There's too much Westfall dirt clinging to me. I will never be this decorated, appreciated mind you dream of."

"Then get out! Get out of here before you get even more of it on you or whatever it is you fear!" He sounded personally insulted. Line was on his mind today. "Just get out and let me take care of this on my own." The flashing edge of the staff was pointed towards the door and he didn't look at her. "The goddamn rat stays with me. I want you out now so I can get rid of all these things that are so beneath you."

"You aren't beneath me! I don't give a fuck that I'll never be an Archmage! The only dream I have is to have a future with -you!- Don't you want me too?" Numb fingers closed the book and she felt tears well in her eyes. How could someone like George be so kind to her - hell, even Raoul was - while the one she loved, the one she married, acted like this? It didn't make sense. "Please take care of him? And of yourself? I love you and that stupid rat so. Please? If you won't let me take care of you both?" Her words quivered and she put the book away, arms wrapping around her waist in a hug to herself. You are the only comfort you need. You are the only thing you need. These thoughts whispered in the back of her mind so quiet she could barely hear them.

"I'll take care of things once you /get/ /out/." He snarled the words in a grave warning, finally turning to look at her over his shoulder. There was a curled maw and flashing teeth rather than the lips that had once kissed her sweetly. The orange of his eyes smoldered like embers as he glared at her. They had no iris, no pupil, no empathy.

The tears fell now and she stared at him a moment before she weakly raised a hand and waved. "Take care of yourself. Write me when you want to see me..." She turned on heel and wiped the back of her hand hard across her eyes. This was stupid. -He- was stupid. Her own temper pressed her and she gripped the doorknob hard, sparkles of arcane energy flickering off it. The door slammed hard behind her and she let out an angry cry as it did. The transient that she'd paid to watch her rocket blinked and side stepped away. With another annoyed sound she threw the coins at him and got on her rocket, wanting to go somewhere else. Anywhere but here.

A moment after she slammed the door shut, something went crashing through the window. It almost hit the poor transient! Just barely missing him, the burned tome skidded along the dirt until it finally came to a stop. Charred beyond reading, wisps of smoke still rose from it. There were letters still visible on the spine at least, but before anyone could so much as sound out the T in their heads, more things followed through the window. Beakers smashed as they hit the ground, then an entire flimsy wire rack followed it. Another window was smashed out, thing being hurled from someone very, very angry inside. Most chilling of all as she started up her rocket was the squeal of a rat, or some other small creature, and the creature mimicking it -without- the echo of the tank.

The squeal gave her pause and she turned the key in the ignition, the engine she'd gunned suddenly falling silent. With a delicate gesture she put the satchel in the storage compartment and locked it before dropping the key in her pocket. Eyes narrowed she turned on heel and tried to slam the door open once more. He could hurt her and disregard her feelings but that rat had done -nothing- to merit this treatment.


The door did open, but the abuse of having been slammed so often in what many door-enthusiasts would lament as its final years, the handle tore right out in her grip. Blinding, bright light rolled into the room and dazed rat, creature, and worgen all at once. In their own fashions, they hissed and recoiled away from it. Ratford was unharmed (comparatively) and had squealed of fright at the creature who was falling out of her broken tank. Slumping really. Without the water to hold them up, the dead snakes gave the illusion of drenched hair and clung to the sides of her rotted cheeks. She mimicked the squeal again, mindlessly, and reached for the hem of Jeffrey's robes with one of her many hands. She was disgusting in the murky water of the tank before, but terrifying without.



The flames of her temper went cold at the sight but that isn’t to say they petered out. Amavia wasn’t one for indulging in sudden bursts of passion when it came to anger but today she felt the desire to cave to the thoughts -screaming- in her head. Kill it kill it KILL IT. That THING which had caused them such issues. Her mind was so strangely clear and confident, her KTI badge flashing in the glittering sunlight she’d brought with her, that the blast of arcane energy that launched from her palm and towards the creature came instantly. “Do. No. Touch. Him.”


A green shield of fel flames enveloped the creature, who seemed just as confused as Ratford as to the what or why of it. She held up her hands and gingerly touched the sphere, but recoiled with a hiss of her own when the arcane blast was absorbed by it. 'Sightless', grey eyes stared at her behind the veil of flickering light, curious and lacking the intuition to even be offended by what she had tried to do.


"You said you were getting rid of it. Allow me the pleasure in helping." Amavia's eyes narrowed as she focused on the shield, trying to dispel it by tugging on the leylines and stealing it for herself. The taint of the shadow shielding her was not desired but she didn’t want to stop. More. She wanted this thing to suffer more and -die- it’s final death at her hands.

He stepped in front of the undead subject, who responded by digging her delicate fingers into his robes and lifting them up to her face. She noticed it dried her dead skin to do so, and began 'experimenting' by drying off more of herself. The monstrously large serpentine half of her body slumped out of the tank and coiled around his feet, which had by now shifted to a more ready stance. "I said I was getting rid of my work, this science. I didn't say I was getting rid of my results." The staff was in hand, but more so than that the snarling worgen stood ready to protect the clueless thing behind him. "Allow me the pleasure," she mumbled, pressing her entire face into his robes, inadvertently looking like someone at worship.

“Then I will do it for you.” A familiar incantation fell from her tongue and she flicked her hand in a graceful gesture at the worgen. Were her spell to land the snarling wolfman would be nothing more than a rabbit amidst the chaos. Part of her mind felt guilty and she knew no apologies later would make it better but this HAD to cease. Something had to give. More more more! Her mind screamed and the flicker of the fel flames from the shield she’d stolen reflected in her eyes, a golden green light shining at him as she coolly did her work.

"And you thought betraying -your father- was a mistake?" His rumbling voice began to rise into a shout, but as the final word of the rhetorical question fell, his voice suddenly sank with it. Black and vibrant magenta shadows began to swirl at his feet, burning hot enough that the undead creature even screamed and threw herself away from him. Though she had been watching him too intensely to notice the first time, they were the same soul burning flames as when he had healed her leg. Now, even the twisted screaming face of a soul that was not his own could be seen stretching with the smoke and shadows. "You have no idea..."


“This isn’t betrayal! You wanted help so let me give it!” It made her fearful to see him so, to watch the shadows lick at the hem of his robe. “Get rid of -that- and be the man I know you are, baby!” The green light faded, the flames of his shield she’d so rudely taken died out and reflexively she threw up her own barrier around her body. She didn’t trust him. He’d hurt her so much before and in such deeper ways what was to stop him now that he felt she’d crossed him? Shaky breaths left her. A Kirin Tor mage was always calm, self-possessed, and clear headed. She repeated it again and again in her mind, a mantra that calmed her and made her posture straighter and confidence flood her again.

"The man you know I am? You don't know me at all! You refuse to see past your preconceptions of me, but whatever helps you sleep at night I guess! This is who I am, who I've always been. What was I thinking marrying you? I should have listened to myself in Darnassus. I will NOT be your pet. I will not STAY in your shadow and spend every night wishing I could walk the streets of that stupid city. I refuse! Take your hypocrisy and run back to your mother, Amavia, because your betrayal has won you no sanctuary with me." Green cracks in the wooden floor spilled out from where he stood, and reached back and snatched the creature's upper left arm. Preparing to teleport away, if her studies had taught her anything about his kind.

“I need no one but myself! I won’t run back to her but your allegiances are clear to me now! Selfish -boy-! I have meant -nothing- to you. Nothing but a distraction from your own crimes! You have -used- my body and my heart, Jeffrey. I was just blinded with love and refused to see it.” The young woman stared hard at him and moved to snatch up the rat. Though her temper was raging her heart demanded that she try and save this creature from his fury. And her own. “You love your creation more than you love me. More than you ever will.” That angry look faded and she laughed weakly, the sounds half-choked sobs. “Run away then. Spare -her.- I realize now -she- is all that matters to you. I lost this battle before I knew it started.”


"You haven't yet, but you will. You will lose this attempt to sabotage me. I promise you that." He growled coolly just before a green flash filled the room. He left her alone there in that room, Editha's pictures floating to the floor as air rushed in to fill the space where he and the undead creature had once been. The scraps of burned clothing slipped down as well, but the blackened plank managed to remain on the mantle even if it was skewed. Every experiment in the room had been destroyed. Every single one. All the books were burned, or in some cases still burning. But wait- no, not alone. Ratford squealed sadly in her grasp.

The girl kissed the rat’s head and refused to let her tears fall. There were people watching even if she couldn’t see them. The transients, the homeless, the depraved beings that resided in Moonbrook. -The Defias.- Had it gotten back to them? What she’d done? Hands trembled and she quickly gathered the photos with one, still supporting the mutant rat with the other - though it strained to do so under his bulk. Pictures of Editha were tucked away - why did she bother? Would she ever have a chance to return them? - and she left the rundown shack with her head held high and the best imitation she could give of Svafa’s cool, detached business expression. Let those who watched think it didn’t matter to her. That she was beyond the tears that she so desperately wanted to shed. A Kirin Tor mage was always calm, self-possessed, and clear headed. The mantra filled her head as she sat on the rocket and secured the rat to herself and the bike with the safety belt. “Hang on. You get to be the first boy I take home to meet my mama.”


The rat didn't even squirm. He just hung their limply in his arms as if he'd given up on something.