A Meeting of Dark Elves

[master-deceiver.livejournal.com]

Characters: Illidan Stormrage, Jarlaxle Baenre
Content: Jarlaxle seeks out Illidan, preparatory to beginning his training in certain methods that will allow him to get around more easily. An alliance may or may not be forged. All the usual doubletalk, hidden meanings, and the like that one tends to see in Drow dealings, plus whatever Illidan throws into the mix.
Setting: Actua Are
Time: Early evening, two days after this journal entry.
Warnings: Hmm... Potentially some mild language, fireworks of a magical nature, and probably some generally Very Scary Stuff (tm).

As the train rumbled along, Jarlaxle watched the passing scenery with interest. This was the epitome - and subsequent antithesis - of everything Drow society strove for. It even had its own equivalent of the ruling matrons, this 'Organization XIII', and something similar to Bregan D'aerth, a shadowed force beginning to take form in the background.

All it needed was a crazed spider goddess, he mused humorously. And a bit less light.

He had visited two of the three locations marked as 'Actua Are' on his map, and neither of them had known who he could have been talking about when he inquired about one Illidan Stormrage. Now, he was en route to the third and final one. He hadn't expected to find his quarry at the first stop; indeed, he had gotten quite lost along the way. But, unlike Menzoberanzan, he did not have to worry about lurking death here. At least, not yet.

Soon, though. After all, what was life without a little excitement?

Stepping off of the train at its stop, he surveyed his surroundings. He was certainly doing a great deal more legwork without Rai-guy and Kimmuriel, that was for certain. Ah well. He had time. He chuckled at that thought as he set off. Yes, he certainly had time.

Comments

[betray-them-all.livejournal.com]

As easily as magical sight could be fooled, misdirected, mislead, the other senses could, as well. There were things that smelled like what they weren't, things that felt fuzzy but were actually hard. Illidan could offer quite a few things that fell into the category of seeming one way but actually being something completely different. Besides, sounds didn't tell him that the ceiling was about three feet lower than he was used to. Taste didn't tell him to duck because the doors were equally low. And having never encountered human civilizations, he had no way of knowing that the people who walked the streets of this city were any different from those who walked the forests of Azeroth--seven feet tall and darkly complected.

He had come to the conclusion that he might have been better off just trying to cope with his predicament. If this was Jarlaxle's personality, well, he'd seen Highborne behave better toward their less noble cousins, and with a lot less irritating of natures. And, having learned the Highborne magics, he was quite aware of how the noble cousins behaved.

"Walk as you will, it makes no difference to me," he stated simply. Food sounded good, and it seemed like it would be better for his temper than listening to Jarlaxle's unexpectedly barbed words.

[master-deceiver.livejournal.com]

Jarlaxle smiled a veiled smile, and noted to himself that this Illidan, wherever he had come from, was of a markedly better temperament than even Kimmuriel. Good; he valued such things in his lieutenants.

As if someone had thrown a switch, Jarlaxle became the epitome of courtesy at that point, letting up his globe of darkness and leading Illidan down the hall, down the stairs, through the lobby, and out into the street - with the appropriate warnings for low overhangs and doorways. Anyone who knew what it meant to be Drow would have been worried, watching their own backs for a dagger that would almost assuredly meet them head on; those who look for death from behind will find it in the front, as the proverb went.

But then, Jarlaxle had no such intention.

Finally, after a rather interesting walk during which they were both closely inspected by the strange glowing creatures that populated the city, they reached a nearby cafe, into which Jarlaxle, still the soul of kindness, led Illidan.