Chapter Text
The sea churned in a lazy slurry; too salty to freeze, too frigid to remain totally unaffected. Captain Flynn Fairwind adjusted the wool collar of his overcoat to guard his neck. Winter crept into Boralus weeks ago, but now it firmly embedded itself in the bones of its residents. Each breath was visible in the cold. Every joint ached in protest. The Alliance forces within the city handled the weather with varying levels of aplomb. Fairwind rolled his eyes at a weaver selling socks as ear warmers for night elves. The heels were still clearly visible. A sloppy con, but the elves' ears were the telltale pink before frostbite so it didn't matter much.
Fairwind passed through the dense crowd gathered at the central market. A sleight of hand here. A pilfering there. A scoop of unsullied snow to finish. He emerged harbor-side with a chilled parcel tied with twine and butcher paper. It was a silly tradition, but a sailor who spurned superstition was as good as sunk.
He strutted up the gangplank of the Wind's Redemption looking for a target. Feathermoon, Windrunner, and Wildhammer were bundled in furs discussing something or other. Too many. It would be a bit gauche, even for him. Wyrmbane was an option, but he was nowhere to be seen and Fairwind didn't know where to find him. Fairwind did, however, know someone who was always alone and ready to talk. Well, talk when it was something important. Thankfully he had a week's worth of azerite reports tucked safely in the innards of his clothing. Master Shaw wouldn't mind an early report and Fairwind wouldn't mind the incoming luck.
Each step down the stairs was slow and deliberate. The edges were coated in a thin, almost invisible layer of ice. Alliance. No wonder it was taking so long to end the war. The devil was always in the details. Fairwind walked down the hall and turned the corner. The floorboards creaked with each step. He had a sneaking suspicion that's why the spymaster chose this cabin. Fairwind couldn't imagine it made for restful sleep. The closer the captain got to the door, the more he noticed an unusual smell. Tobacco and something… medicinal? He wiped his nose and knocked on Shaw's door.
"Master Shaw."
"Come in, Captain." It was said with the same bored tone he always spoke with. Fairwind was growing bored of his feigned boredom. They were in the middle of, by the captain's count, a four-front war. It hardly seemed like something lacking excitement. For better or worse. Mostly worse.
The Kul Tiran opened the door and the smell hit him with the force of an Irontide's fist. Earthy herbal notes overwhelmed the tobacco. It smelt like something an old woman would perfume herself with. Shaw sat at his desk surrounded by his ever-growing pile of paperwork; a quill in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He flicked the ash into a glass dish that held half a dozen of its broken brethren.
"Didn't know you smoked." It wasn't what Fairwind intended to say, but proof of the spymaster's vice overrode any other coherent thoughts.
"Not publicly." Shaw took a drag from the cigarette and turned his focus back to his reports. "Don't gawk. Come in and close the door. You're letting the heat out."
Fairwind did as he was told. "Smells like a medicine shop in here."
"It's the sansam. You came here for a reason." Shaw had a habit of demanding rather than asking. Pompous prick.
"Came here for two actually."
The spymaster set his quill down and stretched his hand. The joints cracked with relief. Writing for awhile then. He was mismatched too. Shaw's left hand still had his glove on while the right was bare and holding the cigarette. It was the most unkempt Fairwind had ever seen him. Every strand of hair, including the ones on his foppish mustache, was pristine. His armor was immaculately maintained. Except for the lone hand. Shaw followed Fairwind's lingering gaze and scowled. Balancing the cigarette between his lips, the spymaster returned the glove to its proper place. There he was. Master Shaw.
"The first." Shaw said effectively killing the silence.
"Reports of the azerite variety. Organized by location-"
"I've told you before to do it chronologically." The spymaster took a long drag and exhaled through his nose. He looked like an agitated dragon. Fairwind wasn't thrilled he now knew what those looked like.
"And I do, within the coordinates. You got your systems. Me and the other captains have ours. Location is more important to us than the time frame." Fairwind pulled open his jacket and unlatched the leather folder from the harness under his shirt. "Some of the azerite haulers fancy themselves poets. Others are borderline illiterate. All of it needs to be aggregated and translated into something a layman like you can understand. You'll take what I give you, Master Shaw. Respectfully."
Fairwind placed the folder onto Shaw's desk, careful to not knock any piles of paper over. The spymaster opened the first page and glanced at a crude map of the Un'gol Ruins Fairwind had annotated. Sufficient. He didn't have time for anything more than that.
"The second?" It sounded like a proper question. Fairwind almost never sought out extended conversations with Shaw. Not after the less than favorable first encounter. Evidently his lingering inspired curiosity.
"This innocent parcel." Fairwind answered, pulling it from his pocket and placing it atop the map.
"From?"
"Me of course."
"Of course." More ash in the tray. "What is it?"
"You'd know if you opened it."
Shaw turned the package back and forth in his hand. "It's cold."
"Observant."
The spymaster clicked his tongue and snuffed out his cigarette. He slowly unwound the twine and pulled the brown wrapping apart. A lone oyster laid on a bed of steadily melting snow.
"An oyster." The boredom was turning to befuddlement. That was fun.
"Keen-eyed as always."
"Why?"
"Kul Tiran tradition."
"Giving an oyster is Kul Tiran tradition?"
"Yes and no."
Shaw set the oyster on his desk. He stood and opened the porthole and tossed out the soggy paper and snow. He turned to Fairwind with his arms clasped behind his back. Waiting.
"It's good luck," Fairwind began, "gifting a stranger something for Winter's Veil. Bit early, but I'll be out on a job during the holiday. Which you definitely know already so I'm not sure why I'm telling you."
"Why an oyster?"
"Tides, you're stuck on that. It's what I found laying about. You get a nice snack and maybe- if you're lucky- a pearl." Shaw was putting more thought into the gift than Fairwind ever had. It was easy to swipe so he swiped it. Tradition never said it needed to be an extravagant affair.
Shaw returned to his desk, holding the oyster between two fingers. He scrutinized it with the same intensity as his reports. "I'm afraid it's an unrequitable gift."
"How's that?"
"I don't consider you a stranger."
Fairwind let out a noncommittal hum. "You'd be a piss poor spymaster if you did."