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She should have expected something like this, with her dumb rotten luck and all. Of course this would happen, why the fuck wouldn’t it? Afyrie grumbles as she stares through the candlelit window by the front door, unable to build up the courage to knock.
Perhaps, in retrospect, she shouldn’t have done this as a surprise, but she hadn’t even suspected that a Paladin of the holy Light would even do something like this. As it turns out, the human man she had been seeing on and off for a number of years now is married with a child.
While Afyrie isn’t entirely up on human life cycles she’s fairly certain the kid is at least as old as she’s been seeing John, if not older, which means that he’s been married for the entire time they’ve been seeing each other. Great.
With a muttered curse Afyrie turns and walks back down the path to her horse, grabbing a fistful of his undead mane and swinging up into the saddle. With one last glance back at the house she delivers a sharp kick to the undead beasts rotting side and gallops off into the night, determined to forget Johns existence.
A room in Goldshire is easily procured despite the amount of people frequenting the tavern and Afyrie flops onto the bed with a groan, sitting up after a moment to remove her shortswords from their sheathes on her hip before they dig into her side and cause her even more pain.
Everything is unfamiliar around her, from the architecture style to the quality of voices filtering through the heavy wooden door and up through the floorboards. Even the sheets feel wrong against her skin, the difference in tailoring styles between the Horde and Alliance obvious.
She thought she’d miss her friends more, being the only one of them to seek out Alleria and her kin and accept the gifts of the void. She probably can’t even visit them either, with the faction war still going strong despite the ever-present threat from the Old Gods.
She should probably help with that, she thinks even as a wave of emotion that can only be described as ‘ugh’ fills her at the thought. She’s had enough world-ending apocalypses for one lifetime now, even if she’d only been on the front lines to fight Deathwing and whatever monster he’d turned into.
Afyrie rolls onto her side, staring into the flickering flame of a white, unscented candle. Who says she has to do anything? It’s a fresh start, few people know her here and she’s free to do what she’d like, which means she doesn’t have to present herself as a hero here. Perhaps the SI:7 is hiring? They could always use more rogues, especially ones with her skill in a close range fight.
She’ll look into it in the morning, she decides, as the exhaustion of the day and the evenings revelation starts to catch up with her. She has time, she can figure it all out later.