He blinked, squinting and tilting his head up. Rain. He couldn’t help grinning. He really enjoyed rain. He had not expected it here, at Brewfest, in Durotar, which was a desert. Silvermoon got it in controlled, scheduled showers the magistry allowed. This was at the call of a shaman and her elemental allies. She was dancing, calling the other troll shamans she was reveling with.
That was a great idea.
“Hey, Trisandrah, come here. Lets dance.” He offered his hand dramatically. It was a night for ridiculous flights of fancy. First the potions that made everything taste sweet (thank the gods he’d gotten that one!) and the roulette at the Menagerie. Now he wanted to dance with her in this magical rainshower. They’d drunk bizarrely sweet beer and eaten pretzels that tasted like dessert.
Her kisses tasted even better.