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Eli walked out of the temple, carrying a small bowl of steaming, thick soup with him. The tall tales of the trio of friends and their exploits in the ravaged peninsula had lasted them well into the supper hours, and he was now headed outside to check on Tuan. The she-rogue had managed to stay out of sight the entire evening, and the Paladin was admittedly beginning to feel a mite concerned.
He gave himself a moment to peer up at the sky. Here, at the north-western outskirts of the peninsula, the incessant nether aurora sweeping back and forth from one horizon to the next was weaker, leaving the firmament open for what lay beyond. Eli realized that he was looking up at images of alien planets – were they really just images? – and a sky so speckled with diamonds that it felt like he was literally gazing into the great cosmos itself. A single, small yet unnaturally bright sun sat unmoving high above his head, but it didn’t seem to carry the same kind of warmth that the Azerothian sun possessed. If anything, it felt like he was standing on a small, air-vacuumed satellite somewhere in outer space, staring not at a sun but at a naked star, bereft of atmospheric blurs.
He drew a deep breath and lowered his head, blinking to fight off the momentary nausea that had washed over him. No wonder she hates looking at that. Remembering the temple elder’s directions from earlier, he easily found his way over to the open-air smithy.
There wasn’t much of a difficulty finding it anyway. The steady, light ringing of metal being bolted out guided him well enough.
As he came up to the free-standing forge and anvil, Tuan had apparently just finished sealing up whatever she was working on and had plopped herself rakishly on top of the anvil, one foot over the opposite knee, something unidentifiable but obviously mechanical tucked in the crook of her lap and her hands deftly manoeuvring thin engineer’s tools in the tiny contraption’s metal guts.
“Whaddayawant,” she snapped in an even, neutral voice as he stepped close; not so much her usual ornery attitude as simply being thoroughly occupied by her tinkering.
Eli smiled genially in turn and held out the meal to her. “Jes’ checkin’ in an’ letting y’ know that supper’s been done fer a while now, Miss Tuan.”
She finished a few more tightenings (at least, that’s what he guessed she was doing) and looked up, noticeably perking up at the sight and smell of food. “Ooh! Perfect timing. I was just about to get hungry for reals.” She put the contraption aside and snatched up the bowl and its accompanying spoon, beginning to scoop its contents into her mouth with a satisfied sound. “Man, I’ve got to nick this recipe.”
Eli glanced around and singled out an emptied barrel to sit himself onto. “You’ve been out here all evening an’ then some, Miss Tuan. Y’ shouldn’ starve yerself.”
Tuan indicated with a crooked nod towards her backpack, discarded nearby, and replied through a mouthful of food: “Beef jerky. Never leave town without it.”
Eli was about to start arguing that dried jerky wasn’t going to last her forever, but decided against it. Instead, he glanced towards the odd little gizmo that had been left half-forgotten on the anvil’s smooth surface.
Tuan duly noticed his interest. “Hm? Oh. That.” She took the bowl in one hand, picked up the trinket and tossed it lightly to Eli, who managed to catch it with a bit of a fumble. While the she-rogue returned to her meal, the Paladin inspected the creation. It resembled a very small and very metallic robotic bird, the kind of Gnomish wind-up toy one might buy for children during Winter Veil.
Tuan shrugged dismissively. “Windup mechanism. The most basic clockwork technique engineers are taught. I’ve just been fooling around.”
Eli blinked and looked over at Tuan, a lopsided smile spreading on his face. “… I suppose I should’ve expected you t’ be an engineer. Gnomish?”
“Goblin.” She flashed a rascally smile as his eyes widened. “I like it when things go boom.”
He looked back at the tiny mechanical bird with clear apprehension, and she snickered around another mouthful, swallowing it quickly before it would go down the wrong pipe.
“Not that small, Lightbulb! I don’t make exploding chickens without a minimum payload in ‘em.” She duly slurped up the last few drops of soup, while Eli fought to loosen the instinctual knots in his muscles.
“So you’ve jus’ been out here all the time, making trinkets?” he mused aloud, doubtfully.
She put the bowl aside with a little clang. “Well in my defence I’d like to point out that I have tried to socialize with the other folks around here! The Draenei are all stiff as bricksticks, and those Broken dudes they’ve taken in skitter off like snowshoe rabbits as soon as I look at ‘em.” She sat back, still perched on top of the anvil, and stretched her long legs out. “Their fault for being a bunch of wimps.”
Eli blinked slowly. “They … what?”
“You heard.” She unceremoniously hopped off the anvil, stretching more thoroughly. “Never figured I was that intimidating.” She duly flashed a predatory grin at the Paladin, who automatically shrank away. The she-rogue chortled darkly.
While Tuan idly walked around, apparently to loosen the odd kink in her spine, Eli continued to inspect the little windup toy. Twisting the small key set into its side several times, he went over to the anvil and set it down gingerly on top of the smooth stone surface.
The miniaturized metal bird promptly began to walk off in a somewhat unsteady line. He quickly caught it before it would tumble off the anvil top.
Tuan had stopped and was watching him with a decidedly roguish glint in her eye. “Boys. Leave you alone with a trinket and off you go.”
Eli didn’t pay attention; he wound up the little bird’s mechanism again, and this time he placed it on the ground. It didn’t get far before it toppled over a small pebble jutting out of the hard-packed earth.
Tuan shook her head, walked over and picked the windup toy back up. “That definitely won’t work. Way too uneven. ‘Sides, I didn’t really make this with actual use in mind—”
Eli blinked at her; she had cut herself off abruptly, looking sideways into the main temple grounds along the tiered stairs leading up to the temple itself. Eli followed her gaze … and spotted a group of Broken huddled at the foot of the last set of stairs, staring intently with a mixture of lingering apprehension and utter fascination at them.
“Why are they looking at us like that?” Eli mumbled, clearly unsettled by the sudden show of interest.
Tuan didn’t reply. Instead, she glanced between the little metal bird in her hand and the assembled Broken. She took the trinket between two fingers and held it up, raising an eyebrow curiously.
The Broken immediately perked up, if warily.
Tuan let show a strange little smile; at once faintly overbearing and oddly resigned. Still holding the trinket in one hand, she smoothly descended the metal stairs, stopping at the last step. The Broken duly shied away from her, except for one individual who obviously was the bravest among them, stubbornly holding his ground before the towering she-rogue.
Tuan held up the tiny metal bird, somewhat demonstratively. The Broken kept following her hand movements as she carefully wound up the toy’s driving mechanism once more. Then she – still in that demonstrative sense – bent down, swept some stray dust and sand from the metal step at her feet, and placed the bird onto the smooth surface. It immediately took off.
Deftly stepping ahead of it, the she-rouge guided it back and forth with her foot, until the windup mechanism had run out. All the while the lone Broken stared with rapt attention at the little mechanical wonder, and now his brethren had begun sidling up as well.
Once more picking the toy back up, this time Tuan held it up before the Broken. Hesitating for the briefest heartbeat, she extended her arm, essentially offering the trinket as a wordless gift.
The Broken took the little metal bird with a gentleness utterly belied by his thick hands, put his fingers onto the spring key … and very nearly turned it the wrong way. Tuan quickly gestured at him, indicating with her own hands how to properly wind the toy back up. The Broken immediately lit up, gingerly winding up the inbuilt spring mechanism, and then turned with a strange reverence towards his fellow Broken.
They immediately swept a small area clean on the packed ground and gathered around as their supposed leader knelt and placed the toy into the vacated space. On cue, the little bird began strutting around in its stilted, mechanical fashion. The first Broken gently guided it around in a controlled circle with broad, calloused palms, and one by one, the others sat down, passing the little bird among them. When it ran out, the first one wound it back up again, and so the cycle repeated.
Tuan had already scooted back up the stairs, standing at the top with that strange, mixed smirk still on her face. Eli gingerly stepped up beside her.
“… did you just give a bunch of Broken a mechanical windup bird?” he finally ventured in a very careful mumble.
Tuan immediately rolled her eyes and elbowed the Paladin squarely in his plate-armoured midriff, before stalking back to the anvil to retrieve her emptied supper bowl. “Big burly Broken playing with a child’s trinket,” she muttered crossly as she came back. “I dunno whether to laugh or cry.” Nevertheless, she did pause to throw another glance at the peculiar scene in front of them.
“For those who have known nothing for such a long time, even the smallest thing becomes a great treasure.”
Both she-rogue and paladin jumped – the former noticeably more than the latter – at Amaan’s voice suddenly sounding low but clear behind them.
Tuan spun around with a distinctly strained smile. “Uh-huh. Right. Um …”
Eli suddenly realized that the usually so witty woman was having significant difficulty spitting out a suitable retort, and kept inching away from the temple elder. He drew a light breath and came to her rescue. “T’was just a whim, elder Amaan. They’ll prol’ly grow tired of it in a while. ‘Sides, s’getting’ late, and we should get to bed fer t’morrow.”
Amaan inclined his head, still with that gentle smile, and walked back into the temple, guided by his anchorite’s staff.
The moment he was (hopefully) out of earshot, Tuan breathed out visibly.
Eli shot her a look. “Y’ doan’ like the elder?”
Tuan rubbed her forehead lightly. “He just … grates on me. It’s nothing personal.”
Eli raised an eyebrow. “Y’ doan’ like blind people?”
At this, she raised her head and met his gaze squarely, gesturing vaguely as she went on. “As in, I don’t like blind people who keep acting like they’re not blind at all and in fact a hundred times more aware of their surroundings than most other mortals could dream of and never really looking straight at you but knowing exactly where you are, where you’re going and apparently what you’re thinking.” She caught her breath after the rapid-fire tirade. “I’m a rogue, Eli. And like every other rogue in the history of roguedom, I detest stealth detectors.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and marched inside the temple to, judging by her continued mutterings, find somewhere to dump her empty bowl.
Eli realized that he was rubbing his neck with the weirdest smile in his life on his lips. Finally he shook his head in amused defeat and strode inside as well.
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Originally written by Tuan Taureo
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