Bitter

Celessarae slumped against the bar, nursing her third mug of ale and rubbing her temple with one hand. Her body was bruised all over, and aching from a recent foray into a Defias pirate den. All of the bruises and injuries were a wasted effort since the damned Defias had set their own ship aflame to prevent her and her little band from properly looting it. At least she'd managed to pick a few scorched treasures from the ruin of the ship before departing.

She sighed and shook her head; it was a nice distraction for a time, but now here she was again, drinking in one of Silvermoon's taverns and surrounded by potential enemies. There was one slight difference though this time around, the tone of the people who met her seemed to have shifted slightly after her battle with the Twilight's Hammer group within the city. Some of the House Dayfire guards involved in the conflict frequented the tavern and had nodded greetings at her upon her arrival. It was strange to think that anyone in this forsaken place would tolerate her, but there you had it.

Better than being thrown in fetters and taken to the gallows I suppose.

As she took another long drink from her mug, she thought back to the battle that she had fought in the cultists' hiding place and to the Farstrider she had rescued. He had been handsome. His flowing blond hair and tightly fit mail armor had made her mind wander back to better times, lost long ago now. To sea blue eyes that would stare into hers as if nothing else in the world mattered. To endless hours spent in Eversong Woods, hunting and laughing and simply trying to figure out what life really meant beyond the noble Houses and the responsibilities of blood. A childhood of dreams left unfinished and discarded on the day the Quel'dorei lost everything.

Celessarae shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts of things long since past. She realized her ale was all gone and stared at the mug as if in accusation. She didn't like days like this, didn't like remembering the past. It was that damned Farstrider that did it, and the fact that others were praising her deed. If only they knew the truth, perhaps they'd leave her the fel alone and let her be about her business.

I wonder if your Celessarae died along with you that day beloved. If all that she was passed away with that sword stroke.

Again she shook her head. Stupid stupid! The past would just slow her down, make her weak when she most needed to be strong. It was unchanging, and the truth of it was undeniable. A waste of time.

"Get ahold of yerself Cele," she muttered. "Wastin' time thinkin' bout this isn't gonna help you get your ship back in order. The ship's captain's gotta focus, and you've no time fer this."

Someone slid another mug of ale in front of her. She looked up to see one of the House Dayfire guards smiling at her invitingly. She eyed him over before a smile crossed her own face. Well hello there.

There's more than one way to forget the past I suppose.