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Kimbetheli sighed softly, slowly stirring from sleep. The bed was warm and soft, and she would have been content to keep dozing, if it weren’t for the marked absence of a body, of a familiar heat at her side; her fingers swept over the mattress next to her, only to find empty space instead of Blerple, and that was unusual, and made the haze of rest dissipate.
Her husband was not normally an early riser, and the slight tinge of pink in the morning light told her it was in fact early, so to find his side of the bed empty was enough of a disruption of routine to drive the sleep from her eyes, and to pull her out of bed in search of him. She slipped on her dressing robe, brushed the sleep from her eyes, and ventured out.
She found him on the terrace, overlooking the valley beneath them, and the lush greenery of the Jade Forest spread to the horizon, stretching all the way to the sea on one side, and to the mountains on the other. The sky was wide and beautiful, almost clear of clouds this morning, and the breeze was calm. The view was spectacular; it was the main reason they had bought this little house, rarely visited, truthfully, as life was determined to permit them as little vacation time as possible.
Kimbetheli had always been fond of Pandaria. The people, the food, and the land itself held a sense of comfort and beauty that seemed unparalleled in her journeys, and she had seen and experienced much of the world, and, sometimes, worlds beyond. Blerple felt a similar affinity; it did not take either of them long to decide to pool their resources and purchase a permanent residence here, a place of respite and escape, from their primary residence in Stormwind, and the duties of the Brotherhood of the Stag. They had only managed to stay here a handful of times over the years though, and frequently not without interruption, but they had been here almost half a week already, in blessed peace, which would hopefully continue uninterrupted.
The campaign in the Shadowlands still weighed on them, having only passed about a month and a half ago. The realms of death had been intriguing, but horrifying to behold, in more ways than one, and the struggles endured there, the dangers they faced would not soon be forgotten. So much anxiety and hardship…they were used to such a thing, truthfully, but some memories had been particularly harrowing, left them with troubled dreams, with tension that was difficult to release. Kimbetheli had always been an optimist, but even she had begun to falter, had been gripped by doubt and fear for the first time in years. Only together did they manage to navigate it. So finding her bedmate out of bed unexpectedly was not something she enjoyed, in any circumstance, and indeed, she felt a sense of relief seeing him sitting leisurely, taking in the quiet of the morning, safe and sound, and breathing deeply.
“I thought you’d finally run off,” Kimbetheli joked, joining him. Her voice was still sleep-ridden, and the prickle of anxiety down her spine quickly receded as he held out a familiar hand to guide her down to sit with him.
He had no smart retort though; perhaps it was too early for playfulness, or he was not in the mood for it today; she would find out which soon enough. Instead, he let his arm wind around her waist, and she eagerly rested her head on his shoulder, and shut her eyes to the morning breeze. A few moments of silence passed, with them breathing in tandem, his hand stroking her side, soaking up each other’s presence before he spoke.
“It’s so quiet here,” he remarked, his own voice soft, sweet, yet solemn.
“Mhm,” she replied.
“It’s so…peaceful. So peaceful it’s hard to believe.”
His words rang true; ever since the Alliance and Horde left the continent, save for a few outposts for trading and research, Pandaria had once more become a tranquil land, with its denizens returning to routine, and undertaking the difficult task of healing, mitigating the damage outsiders had wrought. They had made significant progress; the scars of war were almost gone here in the forest, and work had begun again on the massive jade statue at Forest’s Heart, meant to honor the great Jade Serpent. He could see it in the distance now, the worksite still quiet for the moment, as its diligent volunteers still snoozed in their tents.
It was quiet in Dawn’s Blossom too, far below them, but soon the first whiffs of home cooking would carry on the wind, and morning greetings and laughter between neighbors. Pandaren loved to laugh. Blerple admired them for that, for their ability to find the sun behind the clouds, to retain their joy in the face of adversity. He struggled with that, so frequently; he envied sweeter souls, and the ease of a quiet life, and the peace they could only seem to find here.
But Kimbetheli knew him well enough to know his words did not only speak to awe, but something more grim; peace was rare, for either of them. It was unfamiliar, and despite the constant search for it, could be…unsettling. It could be difficult to contend with, and could even leave someone feeling bitter.
She slipped her arm around his back, so they were better embracing, and admired their environment. “It’s real,” she replied, taking in the nearby blooming lilies, the sky slowly turning blue. “It’s hard to imagine, but it’s real,” Kim said softly. She had to convince herself of that too.
“I had to get up,” Blerple said. “Couldn’t sleep anymore.”
“Too quiet?” she suspected.
The rogue nodded. His grip on her tightened a little.
She did not need to invite him to elaborate; another second or two and he spoke freely.
“Keeps feeling wrong, like a trap or something. I keep waiting for the other boot to drop. But I’m trying to enjoy it. I am. But that sinking feeling…”
“It’s hard to shake,” his wife agreed. “I catch myself waiting too, expecting an unpleasant letter or summons at any time. Another surge of darkness, another beautiful thing ruined…” Such thoughts even wiped the smile from her face.
Blerple held her closer, leaned his head on hers. “I’m doing my best to stay in the moment,” he said. “I’m here, you’re here, that’s all that matters.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” she replied.
“I do. There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than next to you,” he said, and his voice was soft but firm, the sincerity in his words warming her heart.
“What would I do without you?” she sighed, smiling softly, feeling a sense of ease only he could instill.
“Whatever you’d be doing, you’d be doing a hell of a better job than if I was without you.” He was clearly in the mood for flattery today, but could it really be called that? He meant what he said, entirely; he could not imagine navigating this world without her, could not imagine how many times he would have given up by now, if it weren’t for her sweet voice, her encouragements, her affection and guiding presence. She was a beacon of light for him, one he cherished above all.
But he was much the same for her. His arms around her, his sarcastic tongue and playful attitude, though frequently hidden in recent years, always made her feel at ease, made her feel grounded, when she felt as if she were slipping away, or crumbling under the weight of a troubled world. He had always made her feel stronger, braver, and better equipped to handle the unknown, and from the first day she had met him, she could not imagine life without him at her side.
“We’d both be doing badly,” she decided on. “We have done badly, without each other,” the warlock recalled, thinking back to their separation a few years ago in the midst of war, and the waves of grief and fear and uncertainty that convinced them never to be parted on a mission again.
Just the thought of it made his jaw tighten a little, the scar on his cheek itch. “We’re not doing badly now,” he said, convincing himself of the truth, to focus on the present instead, and he heaved a sigh, closed his eyes to better feel the breeze sweeping through his dark hair.
“No, we’re not,” Kimbetheli agreed, and turned a little to hide her face against his neck, sink into his touch, as if they were still curled up in the warm bed in the house behind them. They spent some time there, watching the sun in the distance rise higher, the world get a little brighter, reflecting on the peace and quiet, so rarely afforded them in their line of work.
Eventually, the sounds of the morning took hold, and Dawn’s Blossom saw its first traffic. When it did, Kim broke their comfortable silence.
“You know we’ve been invited to drinks today,” she said, sweeping her long braid over her shoulder; her hair was very long these days, and leaving it open to sleep with was a bad idea; she did not enjoy having to untangle it.
“Tea or alcohol?” Blerple asked, reaching back to play with her hair, now that he had seen her move it. He had always admired it, the striking hue, the softness of it, and couldn’t help but touch it whenever the opportunity arose.
“Either. Or both,” Kim replied, not bothered by his touch. “You know Jiell has a talent for brewing it all.”
“Ain’t that the truth?”
Their friend, Jiell Goldenpaw, was a kind, jovial Pandaren. He owned a little shop in Dawn’s Blossom, filled with teas, and healing brews, and honeyed refreshments, and they had helped him, years ago, to retrieve stolen recipes, and stolen stock, and to make repairs to his establishment. He lived alone, but was never lonely; he was well beloved by his neighbors, and frequently visited by the children in his village, and gladly entertained. He had been the caretaker of their vacation home in these past years, always kept it swept and dusted and ready for their eventual return, despite never knowing when such vacations would be possible. They insisted on paying him for his kindness, but he always did it for free.
“I’m sure there will be plenty of food too,” she continued, already dreaming about the treats their friend would certainly provide; Kim was a wonderful cook, and enjoyed trying new recipes and feeding both of them, and even their recruits on occasion, especially around the holidays, but nothing compared to Pandaren cooking in her opinion.
“He certainly won’t let us starve,” Blerple agreed, thinking back to their last shared meal. Jiell had produced a mountain of food, and they’d been encouraged to get another plateful no less than three times throughout their visit. But he could never speak ill of Pandaren hospitality; it was a rare and beautiful thing. Anyone would be an idiot to balk at it.
“I’m almost tempted to skip breakfast to eat more later,” Kim said, only half joking. Hunger was gnawing at her, as it always was shortly after waking, but she gladly put it off to sit here with him, soaking up the quiet.
“Don’t eat too much. I’m sure our little serpent will be happy to see us, and demand a ride,” he replied, swishing the end of her braid to mimic the glide of a cloud serpent.
Her face lit up at the thought; the cloud serpent they had bonded with in their first time in Pandaria, Shouyen, was well tended by the Order, and had grown larger and more beautiful over the years, they’d found. Kimbetheli thought of him often, of his iridescent scales, their beautiful shade of jade, juxtaposed by crimson fur similar to her own hair, and the sweet temperament he had. She had loved soaring over the clouds with him, feeling calm and free, and did so frequently, when she could in those days. She had always wished she could take him back to Stormwind when they left, but he belonged here, with the other serpents, and she could not bring herself to take him away from that. Not to mention, her duties would make it difficult to tend to him properly.
But this evening they’d be reunited once more, for the first time in a long while. The first two days of this trip here, Kimbetheli and Blerple had not left their house. There was much needed sleep and privacy to catch up on, as they finally found escape from the harrowing last few months, as well as the mantles of leadership, temporarily. They did not feel much in the mood for socializing at first. But now, they were somewhat renewed and feeling ready to explore (if it could be called that). They were ready to revisit old friends, and to find familiar companionship.
She was very much looking forward to another first flight over the forest and windspires, to take in the changes on this beautiful continent, feel the wind in her hair, and to share it all with her sweet husband. She was more fond of flying than Blerple was, but he did not hate it either; rides together were always their favorite, gave them an excuse to hold each other close and escape from the world. Light knows escapes were their favorite, and they did not get enough of them. But that just made them all the more appreciative of every moment together without strife, the opportunity to kiss and hold each other, to simply exist. It was a privilege, to be here, to be safe and pass the time leisurely, and Kimbetheli would never take that privilege for granted. She would never take him for granted.
“I can’t wait,” Kim sighed, snuggling closer to her beloved and envisioning the wonderful day ahead.