Aresina&Weishen Second slice

“Oh for Xuen’s sake!”

Wrong. Damn. Hearthstone.

AGAIN!

The calm murmur of Dalaran is shattered like the chiseled glass-like crystal smashing violently against the ground in between the Pandaren warrior’s cushy feet. The loud and harmonious clang from the impact is followed by the light rain of shimmering pieces drumming against the cobblestone like wind chimes in a mischievous breeze.

Peaceful echoes rings out into the calm city in stark contrast to the event which produced them, the first major event in almost a year since the city’s been almost abandoned by the champions of Azeroth. Still, it is just one of the many arcane melodies in the streets. Heads are a turning though, albeit from the loud and exasperated roar from the slumped back head of the warrior following shortly afterwards.

“You seem to have lost your hearthstone, champion,” the conjured head of Khadgar informs as it floats up from the fading core of the broken crystal. The blue bubble hovers in front of Aresina’s unamused face, her grimace still clearly visible despite her large neck-guard covering her mouth and nose. She holds her gaze against the image of Khadgar’s head inside the floating bubble as it bobs up and down with her heavy breathing to maintain eye contact, waiting. Just waiting for it to-

“You seem to have lost you-”

With a rather anticlimactic, but not surprising, gentle pop, the bubble vanishes after a rather embarrassed pirouette from the turbulence summoned by the miffed warrior’s swipe like she’d do an annoying insect.

Her head slumps back down towards the ground again, slowly and tiredly shaking at the mess of sharp crystal that she’d rather not step on.

First the garrison, and now Dalaran…

She sighs.

Third time’s the charm, right?

Has to be, she only has one left. The one that sends her back into the fray. A five minute shortcut has turned into a twenty minute long detour. And what waits her when she returns? More grandiose posture on how she has to defeat her enemies.

The warrior needs a drink.

And not a beer courtesy of Odin. She’s tired today, and going from the dim and blue of Darkshore to the bright and yellow of Skyhold will surely melt her eyes.

No, she needs another type of drink. A cheap one. A badly poured one. Mass produced and commercial. She doesn’t want any effort in her alcohol because she sure as hell doesn’t have any to spend.

‘Legerdemain Lounge’ a sign swinging in the wind advertises at the end of the street. By the looks of it it’s even more deserted than the rest of the town. Aresina can’t remember a single instance when she’s spared the place any thought. She’s been aware that a watering hole’s been there, but every single time she’s been asked about it her mind’s drifted off to the nearby well which people began diving into for reasons beyond the most arch of Archmages.

Yes, actually. Legerdemain sounds exactly what she needs.

If there’s no one inside then she’s free to mutter until her heart’s content. It’s been far too long since she’d just sat down and stewed alone in a corner. It’ll do her good.

It’ll also spare her the awful stench of Nori that’s pouring out from where he’s allowed to continue his experiments.

Who in their right mind would ever go near him again?

//

“Nori!”

The door to the clumsy cook is like a vertical chimney, casting out its foul smelling smoke in billows as Nori happily bellows at his stove.

“Haven’t you-”

Weishen’s attempts at weaving away the smoke fails, and the dark clouds force their way inside her lungs. She forces them out in reflex, bending forward as she hacks and hems. Her eyes begin to water due to the hellish roughness attacking her, and she’s forced to evacuate the kitchen with both her large, furry paws over her veiled mouth. It does little to filter out the charred chicken and meat currently suffering hellfire inside the blackened stove somewhere inside the gaseous soot pouring out like an upside down avalanche of coal.

Mistweaving does little to help at this point. The smoke isn’t as magical and brimming with mystical potential and energy, it’s just pure mistake and failure to learn.

But that’s what mistweaving is supposed to solve, dammit!

Not here though, not with Nori.

Not even a Grandmaster can teach him.

Weishen had every right to be confident in her teachings though. She’s familiar with the onyx fumes facilitated by clumsy cooking. She’s done it herself back in her days. Weishen knows by practice how to easily clean off the soot from stoves. And if she can rein in Li Li Stormstout and make that little uncontrollable fur-ball sit down for more than five seconds then Nori should just be another tick on her list. Another pupil of hers making her proud by leaping forward with his life!

That list is now sullied beyond recognition though, and so is Weishen.

While she’s always prouded herself over her raven-black mask, the sprawling white she’s also treasured is now buried underneath a thick layer of solidified soot. She doesn’t dare look down at her flowing dress so white when she entered to help Nori. Not that she could see anything out of the waterfall clouding her eyes.

Now that she’s cleared away from the doorway so the ice mages can try and contain the second Nori fire of the day, Weishen can finally get some actual air inside her. Her first exhale emerges as a gray cloud akin to a thundercloud hovering in the distant. She dissipates it with a sigh.

Calm…

Collective.

A Grandmaster through and through. She’s weathered worse storms and still remained focused and centered enough to weave the mists for her companions and fellow champions. Her focus and balance is legend, taken to heart as well as fully into mind. The discipline from her training pushes away what’s clouding her mind

Be it thoughts or smoke.

Unfortunately the long nights spent cleaning up the aftermath of the Amberleaf Scamps raids back at the Wandering Isle blossom with each greedy intake of air. The soot that needs cleaning, all the badly cooked chicken and meat, and all the... AAAARRGGHH!!

The monk needs a drink.

‘Legerdemain Lounge’ a sign swinging in the wind advertises at the end of the street. Weishen can’t remember a single instance when she’s spared the place any thought. However, it is nearby that washing service which Weishen desperately needs as well. She can feel the soot just pouring off her like a monsoon just from furrowing her brow. It looks to be far enough away for the stench of Nori’s cooking to not reach it as well.

Yes, actually. Legerdemain sounds exactly what she needs.

With a set of fresh clothes she’ll be able to find her center again and perhaps weave away this harrowing cooking session. Weave its strings of peril together.

And toss with the wind.

Either that or the strong alcohol will do the trick.

Both reasons are good enough for Weishen.

//

“Welcome to Ledgerdemain Lounge, traveler.”

“Ledgerdemain?” Aresina asks with one arm bent over her shoulder to grab the hilt of her sword. She looks down the spiraling stairs for a second while thinking before turning her head to look through the triangular hole created by her hilt-gripping hand. The thick spikes of her pauldron is like looking through prison bars. “The sign said Legerdemain,” she informs the human bartender behind the counter. “Looked to have space for the missing letter too.”

With a sigh bouncing her shoulders, the blue haired barista motions towards the empty balcony with a friendly, yet still tired, gesture that drags back the loose sleeve of her robe that exposes her gentle hands. “We get people telling us that all the time. Arille Azuregaze is currently cleaning outside, he’ll be happy to take your order.”

The hands of humans are so strange to Aresina. If she can grip her sword with just a couple of pads of skin on her palms then how come the humans don’t have stronger grip than her?

Aresina follows Mel’s fur-less hand while releasing her fingers wrapped on the wicked sword. It clanks back into its hold with a dense and ghastly moan.

“Greetings,” the High Elf bartender greets with a quick flick of his hair. He folds his cleaning cloth with a series of rapid twists of his hand. Almost like origami. “What can I get you?” his classy voice asks.

He casts a quick and panicked look at the illusionary blood dripping from Aresina’s blade before realizing that it’s only a conjuration.

For his sake, Aresina damn hopes that a High Elf like him won’t begin mouthing off about vanity. Don’t want hypocrisy casting slobbery dirt on the tables and floor, now would we?

“Anything to eat?”

Nope, that would lessen the impact of the cheap alcohol.

“No, thank you,” Aresina says while sitting down at a table overlooking the well. Perhaps she’ll catch a show if she’s lucky.  “The cheapest alcohol you got, please,” she asks as she begins unbuckling her shoulderpads.

Arille holds his eyes on Aresina’s request for a long and while beat. She meets the elf’s eyes with her own serious one. No wonder he’s called Azuregaze with eyes this sky-blue. She’s not one to fall under an elf’s spell though. Every single time she’s been transformed for infiltration or similar occasions she’s always hated how those long and pointy ears made her hearing all...weird. Disorienting, almost.

Not to mention the frail figure she found herself in. Turn around too quick and her spine felt like it would pop off its vertebrates.

“A mug of your cheapest alcohol,” Aresina informs the waiting bartender before releasing the last strap on her pauldron, letting it fall and hit the polished floor with a metallic thud. “Please,” she forces through a bouncing smile while slowly moving over to her other shoulder.

“Certainly,” Arille acknowledges after making sure the shoulder armor landed spike side up. “I’ll fetch it for you.”

Aresina follows Arille walking back into the building, flicking his wrist at the knots holding apart the silky curtains, letting them gracefully fall close. She scoffs at it before finally unholstering her sword to prop it up against the wall.

//

“We should have your clothes ready within the hour, Grandmaster.”

It’s armor, but alright. Within an hour sounds good. Should give Weishen enough time to get her mind off what just happened, but not enough to forget that she has to pick up her laundry. She feels like she needs some of this luck after the four hours that literally went up in smoke with Nori.

“Could you bring them to the Legerdemain Lounge when they’re done?” Weishen wonders from behind the divider between her and the gnome attendant. She squeezes the last of the water out of her long ponytail, keeping one hand tightly around its base at the back of her head so she can slip in the two bamboo sticks to hold it in place. Acupuncture is good and all a skill to have as a healer, but Weishen’s found that it’s even more handy keeping her hair in check.

Fully skinned hands don’t really have the flexibility of quickly adjusting the friction of their grip without also loosening said grip. Holding the bundled hair between the tip of her fingers where there’s fur allows her hair to move enough to be comfortable once the bamboo sticks are in place, but not enough to become unraveled. The skin on her pads helps with pushing in the sticks inside the hard knot tied.

Best of both worlds!

“Ledgermain Lounge?”

“Sorry?” Weishen asks to clarify with a shoot horizontally in her mouth. She makes sure not to lean too much around when turning her head, as the arcane lamp combined with the thin and ornate paper on the divider would give away a bit too much of her figure than she’s comfortable with.

Must’ve been the idea of a High Elf or a Blood Elf.

“Legermain is downstairs,” the gnome washer explains while carefully folding the last of Weishen’s order. “Ledgermain is upstairs. Which one are you planning on visiting?”

“Oh, Ledger, then,” Weishen answers as she turns back. “I guess.”

“Certainly, ma’am.”

The smoke from Nori’s...attempt...should’ve been cleared by now, and the conjured warm breeze advertised on the balcony should help with drying up her hair and fur.

Weishen sweeps her two unruly bangs to either side of her forehead, and finally breathes the last of the smoke out of her.

It pops a button on the shirt she was given in loan.

She sighs.

At least the attendant gnome was kind enough to give her a robe to wear above the unbuttoned shirt. Another needle will hold it in place for now. It’s only gonna be an hour, after all. The robe given to her is not as elegant as her now dark-gray one, but again, only for an hour. It’s not a perfect fit, but it’s more loose than tight which she can adjusts with a couple of well-placed needles.

Ha! Who needs tailoring?

After silently muttering an incantation, she feels the familiar warm radiation from the orange crystal lighting up on her forehead. More so now with the lingering chill that hangs after a bath, no matter how warm the water is. It descends a serene composure on her mind as well.

Not quite enough to completely forgot how gray the bathtub she used became after she was finished scrubbing her fur clean. It’s gonna require a Shaman to persuade all that grim to leave the bathtub, that’s for sure.

But for now, a drink. The inn is wall to wall, so off Weishen goes.

//

Why is there a warm breeze about? Aresina went here to relax, not to heat up again.

The warrior hunker downs more over the table. While she very much appreciates the amount of damage her pauldrons has mitigated, it is good to have the weight removed for now. She can tucker herself further, with her neck jutted forward and her arms folded over each other. The shadows cast from her stern brow disguises the color of her mask.

All by design.

Like hell that either the High Elf or the Human will be out here anytime soon to ask if Aresina wants a refill. From her furrowed peer she can see the two tapsters talk with each other behind the bar. The blue silken curtains must be enchanted since Aresina can’t hear a word the two are saying.

If she were to guess though, they’re probably perplexed why Aresina would even ask for a goblet to drink out of.

The answer is simple.

She’s blunt, but not a brute.

//

“Legermain.”

Weishen lets the name dance around in her ears.

“Ledgermain.”

But to no avail.

She can’t tell whether it is ‘Legermain’ or ‘Ledgermain’ that sounds strangest to her.

Oh well.

“Greetings, mage.”

Weishen’s unsure how to take that welcome. She understands why since she very much looks like one with the loaner robe she’s currently wearing, but still…

She’ll set it right the way a proper Grandmaster does. Make the innkeeper realize the mistake on her own volition.  A few subtle clues.

“May Chi-Ji bless your humble tavern,” Weishen greets back with a respectful bow. “Is the Ledgermain upstairs?” she asks, making sure to put emphasis on the differentiating letter.

“It is,” the innkeeper smiles back. “Do make yourself at home. Please speak with me if you want to stay the night or set your hearth, but if it is the Ledgermain you’re looking for, then it is located up the stairs.”

Weishen wraps her arm around her staff, sending it behind her back with a couple of rapid and controlled spins. She snatches it with a focused throw of her other arm, pointing the spear up the curved staircase without looking. “This flight?”

“Yes,” the innkeeper nods without correcting herself. “Food is available as well if you want.”

“I...see.”

Weishen makes sure she’s behind the wall of the staircase before blowing up her rounded cheeks in an exasperated sigh.

“Welcome, traveler.”

At least that’s more correct than the first welcome. Weishen bows gracefully to the High Elf, who bows back.

“Please take a seat and I will be over to take your order in a moment.”

“Thank you,” Weishen nods as she heads out towards the balcony. She gently brushes away the sapphire-blue curtains the same way she’d caress a wound. The breeze outside is indeed warm and pleasant.

//

Huh? A mage? Wait, why is Aresina surprised over seeing a mage in the mage capital? Maybe here to do maintenance on the curtains, or something.

//

Oh, a fellow Pandaren!

“Hello,” Weishen greets in her native tongue. It’s been awhile since she’s spoken it, come to think of it. There’s a resonating tickle on her tongue after the greeting, but that should fade soon enough.

Be it from talking more Pandaren or drinking.

“Hey,” the warrior greets back a bit more informally with her muzzle covered entirely by the weathered goblet creating a faint echo.

A bit of weathering on the warrior too, to be perfectly honest. It’s no wonder around her sides due to the frankly irresponsibly small chestplate she’s wearing. Not even a chain mail underneath! Just the letter ‘V’ from her waist up to her shoulders, leaving the sides completely exposed.

She’s either lucky or incredibly good for having sustained comparatively small damage compared to-

//

Why is this mage staring so intensively at Aresina?

And why at her chest so much?

“Can I help you?”

//

Not to mention the way it barely covers her cleav-

“Hm?”

Weishen angles her eyes up to the furrowed warrior’s face. What meets her is a pair of red eyes peering hard between a folded forehead and cheeks raised in annoyance.

“Can I help you?” the warrior repeats slowly, completely rhetorical. Her tone suggest no help to be found around these parts, but rather quite the opposite. A warrior both in armor and personality, impenetrable as all hell. Weishen’s used to meeting unruly students though. There’s a tiny glimmer of curiosity inside those pupils turned red by years of blood haze.

She’s knows how to grease the wheel enough for it to spin despite it being a square. Weishen’s dealt with it plenty for her more unruly students, but a warrior might prove difficult.

Just need to find a good angle to begin weaving this warrior out of her metallic shell.

“What would you like to order?” the High Elf bartender asks with the worst timing, startling Weishen with how close he came without her hearing him. “Anything to eat or drink?”

Oh, yeah. Ordering something first. Uuhhh… What do they even sell here? Is there no menu around?

“Um...” Weishen motions off-handily towards the half-empty bottle standing next to the hunched over warrior. “One of those.”

“Certainly.”

Weishen breathes out her startle, and sits down opposite the red-clad warrior with her hands folded flat underneath her chin for support.

Now, to figure out an angle.

//

Yeah, sure. Just invite yourself. Don’t ask if you can sit down or anything before just seating yourself and kicking Aresina in the shins as you hurriedly slip your legs underneath the table, why don’t you?

Plenty of tables around that seem perfectly fine with having another Pandaren sit down on it. Not this one though. The groan the wood creaked out in pain should’ve been evidence enough that this is a table for one Pandaren!

Not two.

Not to mention Aresina making it clearer than an empty bucket made of air that she. Wants. To. Be. Alone!

Aresina hides her mutter inside her goblet and drink. The way this other Pandaren’s intensively inquisitive stare is not sitting well with her. The mage sitting down is not sitting well either, even worse so. Stares she can weather. She knows why. It’s because of her choice of armor.

As if this mage would ever be aware of the amount of chafing going on with metal against fur. Even with a shirt underneath it’s like a carpenter’s plane with each raising of her sword.

Also her armor looks really good on her.

And anyone telling Aresina otherwise has trouble repeating that through their cracked jaw while drowning on their shattered teeth.

The way this mage doesn’t appear to be working indicates that she might be a guest after all. Either that or payment from this lounge is paid in cheap alcohol. In which case, may Yu’lon bless Dalaran for how far it’s fallen since the defeat of the Legion.

Not literally, that is.

Luckily.

Aresina almost chokes on her drink as the startled faces of the Council Of Six realizing the city is plummeting springs from her imagination.

//

Seems like this warrior doesn’t mind Weishen’s presence that much since she’s snickering to herself. This hour should pass without a second thought with some company to talk to. Pandaren company to boot, which should be nice. While she’s no stranger to Pandarens around her back on the Wandering Isle, they all look up to Weishen as a Grandmaster and a teacher, and not someone of equal footing.

Not lesser footing, though.

Obviously.

“Should I open a tab or will this be your only one today?” the High Elf asks Weishen as he serves the corked bottle and goblet. As he uncorks it and begins pouring, Weishen turns her chubby smile over to the warrior.

“Which are you doing?”

//

Oh for…

Can’t Aresina just have a drink alone!?

Apparently not since both the bartender and the Pandaren mage is waiting for an answer from her like she’s Madam Goya at the end of a long bidding war! Well, there’s no way she’s gonna hearthstone back to the front with just one of these bottles inside her, so there’s not really a debate which answer she’s gonna say.

But if she’s gonna sit here getting boggle eyed at not even in an admiring way she’ll first have to dull herself pretty quickly.

//

Oh really now?

Downing the rest bottle to make a point, ey?

This might be more interesting than Weishen first thought it would be.

“Guess it is tabs for the two of us then,” she forwards to the bartender with a nod.

“Separate,” the warrior spurts after quelling a burp. “And bring me another.”

“Certainly.”

Perfect. Now lets get this show started then.

“Same here,” Weishen interrupts the bartender’s turn back inside. “No new goblets,” she adds while throwing an eyebrow and a look over to the warrior, who narrows her eyes in contemplation. “We don’t want to have them spend all night doing the washing up on them, now would we?”

//

This doesn’t sound like a mage at all.

And not with the way this stranger twirls her staff in her palm before stopping it between two of her fingers and gently placing it down on the floor with its weight resting on the railing of the balcony. The flowing cloths aren’t even tangled up despite the spinning.

Who is this Pandaren?

And more importantly, what is she?

Aresina straightens her back with her curiosity pulling back her upper lip to expose her downwards fang and allured smile. She drums for a bit with her gauntlet on the table while keeping her eyes on the smirking Pandaren opposite her. All but one finger curl back into her fist, and she bounces her index finger towards the black-masked table invader, who crosses her arms cryptically in response.

“You’re not a mage, are you?” Aresina pries as she disengages her point with one last hop of her finger. She swirls the last splash of drink in her goblet while leaning forward inquisitively. “Not a priest, either.”

//

Opened up like the cork of the bottles the two are about to indulge themselves in.

Weishen allows herself a prideful chuckle.

//

“Why not?” the now beaming stranger asks with a quick shrug. “I’m wearing cloth, aren’t I?” she adds as her chuckle fades into a contained snicker.

“Because a mage would’ve hovered their staff away with arcane magic,” Aresina answers with a glance and a nod towards the crystal staff belonging to the other Pandaren, “whereas a priest would’ve called upon the Light to have it float away.”

She gets an impressed frown and agreeing scoff as an answer. “True,” is all that’s admitted, and even that sounds like it’s only said to playfully mislead.

“If you were a shaman I would’ve felt the wind shift a bit when you summoned some to help you spin your staff,” Aresina continues with her shoulders now pushing forward her posture as far as she can without crossing the middle of the table. She’s getting close now. “And hunters don’t use staffs like yours. It’s not useful as a spear.”

The soon to be classed Pandaren unfolds her hands and moves one of them behind her to tap at the tip of the largest crystal fastened at the top of the staff. “Feels sharp to me,” she relays while showing a drop of blood running down her pricked finger.

Bit of an exhibitionist, ey? Not exhibiting her class though. This stranger toying with Aresina, isn’t she? Well, Aresina isn’t gonna let her have the satisfactory of secrecy. This stranger has already revealed enough that Aresina’s narrowed down the options to only a handful now.

However, the pricked finger reveals some important stuff to Aresina.

Blundered your way into revealing another important clue, stranger!

“You are a Pandaren,” she says in triumph while slamming the palm of her hand on the table.

Gotcha!

With a panicked bleat, she catches her goblet just as it’s about to fall over from being launched up by her victorious slam.

//

...Um

“...Yes?”

//

Aresina counters the baffled look her table sharer sends over by throwing her hand open in the air before going back to resting her chin on her gauntlet’s knuckles held up by her elbow firmly planted into the wooden table. “You don’t have any illusions on you, that’s what I meant. Otherwise you would have pricked yourself on your actual finger rather than on your conjured image of a Pandaren. Would have explained your eagerness to intrude on my private space though if you were under an illusion.”

“For a warrior you sure know a lot about magic.” The now so-closely-classed Pandaren turns her head over to Aresina’s sword with an approving smirk. “To know where to actually swing your sword, I assume?”

“Doesn’t do any wasting a good upwards slash on the conjuration of a human when it’s actually a goblin fulfilling their wish of being taller.”

Arille returns with the two new bottles which he places down in front of each Pandaren, who both thank him.

“Still separate tabs?” he asks seeing the two pairs of puffy cheeks bounce in amusing unison as the other swipe their respective bottle with vigor.

//

“Looks like you’re getting close to figuring out, warrior,” Weishen is willing to let slip on purposed accident. She grabs her first bottle and pops the cork with an acclimated flick of her thumb.

Arille leaves after catching the cork in the air since he obviously won’t get an answer out of the two anytime soon.

“I just need one more clue to be completely certain,” the warrior says while raising a challenging eyebrow. “And I have a feeling you’re about to reveal it to me very soon.”

“Is that so?” Weishen angles the bottle over the rim of her goblet.

“Because I’m fairly certain your kin don’t use goblets nor glasses, now do you?”

Heh. Looks like the warrior’s figured it out. Good on her. However, it’s Weishen’s who’s won this game, really. She’ll let the warrior think she’s the victor though. It’ll do good for her mood which surely needed lifting.

Weishen’s just glad to help.

And even more glad she has someone to drink with now.

The warrior raises her goblet, “So indulge me, please,” which Weishen clangs before lifting up the bottle of cheap spirits to her mouth.

“Monk.”

“I could also be a warrior like you,” Weishen sends over with a cocky grin just before the bottle touches her lips.

“You’re not.”

Oh well, was worth a try.

//

She drinks like a warrior though.

Cheers to that, if anything.

//

Oh, that was some time ago Weishen did something like this. Her hand come up to her forehead, and she pinches her folds underneath her orange crystal.

Just need to hold it in while the worst is happening.

“Perhaps you are a mage after all,” comes a slight tease from across the table. “Guess you’re not a brewmaster if this cheap excuse of a drink gets you down.”

Weishen exhales the worst, and drags a long breath through her nose.

“Don’t see no corporeal crane materializing to explain away your hard grimace either.”

Alright, she can open her eyes now.

“So you must be a mistweaver,” the warrior says with a hearty laugh. She extends her red glove across the table. “I’m Aresina. Battlelord Aresina.”

Weishen takes the rigid glove in her naked hand.

//

Strong grip coming from a mistweaver.

//

“Grandmaster Weishen,” Weishen supplies in return with a slight bow to her head. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Battlelord.”

“So,” Aresina asks as she returns her hand to her clean bottle that she uncorks by stabbing it with her exposed fang, “wghat makss a...” She spits the cork out, sending it bumping across the length of the table. “What makes a Grandmaster visit Dalaran on a day like this?”

“I have a student here,” Weishen explains while more gracefully uncorking her second bottle. She puts the cork down next to her consciously. No need to be rude to the bartender, now is it?

“A mage you’re turning into a monk?” comes a quick follow up before Aresina gobbles down some of her poured alcohol. “Did the two of you swap clothes?”

For companionship sake Weishen pours some into her own well-used goblet. “Not exactly.” She swirls it around as she searches for the right words to use. “He’s...studying under a different form of tutorship I offer.”

The warrior’s brow sink as if suddenly tied to a large anchor. “It’s not Nori, is it?” she wonders with her forefinger pointing from the grip of her chalice.

“No,” Weishen answers.

//

A bit too quickly.

She’s lying about that.

“You have something here,” Aresina says while scratching her brown mask underneath her eye.

“Here?” Weishen asks back while scraping with her claw on her own face where Aresina indicated.

A bit of soot falls from the claw, almost landing in Weishen’s cup.

“You’re kidding!” Aresina scoffs. “What are you trying to teach that Pandaren? It would be like convincing Demon Hunters that they aren’t as important as they think they are.”

//

Weishen flicks away the small pebbles of soot from where they landed on her robe. Ugh. She thought she’d gotten it all out. She’ll probably wake up with the worst sleeping sand in her eyes tomorrow if there’s still soot hiding inside her mask.

“I believe everyone can learn despite how late they start,” she tells as she rubs her thumb and index finger together to get the last pieces of soot out of her claw before blowing it away. “It’s something I was taught late in life myself, and I teach as I’ve been learned.”

“Mhm?” the warrior retorts while muzzle-deep inside her mug.

“I was only a student for five years before becoming a master.”

Cheap drink explodes out of the warrior’s mouth followed swiftly by a series of coughs as her surprised inhale sent it all down the wrong throat.

Weishen’s hand is lifted up by reflex, waving subtly back and forth as if painting softly to summon some healing mist to mend what she caused.

The warrior throws her arm in protest in sync with her coughing. “I’m. Fine.” She extends a finger while dragging in a deep breath. It comes out as a belch not even a silence spell could stop. Aresina pounds her chest with the momentum from her outstretched arm. “Excuse me.”

She takes a deep breath to make sure it’s all gone.

She breathes it out.

“What?”

“I didn’t have a lot of choosing in my life before that.” Weishen taps a claw against the side of her goblet. “Barmaiden out of necessity after I left home. Not the most glamorous life there was, but it was a life. Had Chen Stormstout come visit a couple of times.” She exhales her building anger hard, disturbing her drink so much it almost swells over the edge of her chalice. “Chen Cheapstout, more like. More often than not he’d run off without even as much as a tip of his hat nor his purse.”

She drinks a mouthful to suppress the growl building up from thinking back on that damn Pandaren so high and might famous all over while not being capable of buttoning his shirt properly. Weishen always makes sure to be in another part of the temple when he comes to visit. Luckily he’s mostly interested in the brewmasters, so it’s not something requiring transcendence to move away from.

“Anyways,” Weishen clears her throat, “due to some...happenings...I lost my home and my job, and began drifting for...so long that I lost track of the days.” She sighs. “Stumbled my way into a janitorial position at a temple that took pity.”

“I grew up nearby one, so I was sent there when my parents realized they couldn’t help me understand who I was,” the warrior speaks amid the contemplative pause. Her eyes disappear onto a horizon unseen for Weishen. “Took me a while to understand myself there, but eventually I found out that keeping balance doesn’t necessarily mean keeping yourself centered if you’re not born with it as the point of your balance.”

Is that so? Weishen would love to see that, actually.

“It was from there I could turn my anger and rage into strength and prowess,” Aresina continues after another mouthful. “My title is dedicated to my master who first taught me that there’s a tail to a coin’s head, and that it’s not wrong if you were born with that side facing up instead.”

“That’s very beautiful.”

Aresina shakes her head nervously, putting up her hand up to her forehead as her eyes return back under her control. “Sorry that I interrupted your story,” she apologizes after her oscillating rat-tail has stilled. “You were saying?”

Weishen is a bit taken back by this humble action by Aresina. It reminds her of how some of the initiates would act around her. She’s proud of her title, yes, but she doesn’t really feel like they should act that way towards her. She smiles awkwardly back as she would a spooked initiate. “Don’t worry, I needed to pause for a bit.”

“Something about being a janitor at a new temple?”

“Yes, true. I’d catch glimpses of the training and replicate as much as I could with the cleaning supplies I had. My master was a perceptive one though, and she’d give me tasks and cleaning that first seemed very strange.” Weishen motions to the railing behind her. “Like first cleaning the floors and then the railings so that I would be forced to balance on said railing with feet slick with soap as I had to squat down and polish the handrails.”

She moves her hand towards the magical broom sweeping away the cork Aresina spat out.

“Or how I had to keep the bucket for my polish on the upper floor while I was cleaning the pendulum swinging back and forth from the roof.”

With a proud glance back at her staff, she lets a nostalgic sigh flow out of her. “Eventually my master’s master caught on, but by then I could polish the pendulum while standing on the end of two brooms stacked on top of each other as they were swinging along in rhythm.”

//

Utter bullshit.

But Aresina’s glad Weishen didn’t pry further into her own backstory, so she’ll raise her glass to Weishen’s story just for that.

The two clank their glasses together which rings hollow. Aresina looks inside her cup with a thoughtful hum which swiftly turns into a slight moan as she sees the two bottles also devoid of alcohol.

She’s not in Skyhold anymore, that’s for certain. If she were she’d have two bottles ready for consumption at either side of her.

No change in the exaggerated stories being told to her though.

“Another round?”

“Sure,” Weishen answers with a friendly shrug.