Hale Cress

A Stranger Calls

Loredaeron has fallen! Grab the wounded and evacuate.” was the last thing she heard before the city went to hell and coupled with the screaming in the distance and clanging of the swords nearby, Adrian Cress guided his children out of the city, Odelle in tow and it was thanks to their cousin’s quick thinking that they had of gotten out at all. This last memory of her first beloved home stayed with her.

A lingering presence that felt so foreign but there was a large sense of belonging when Lordaeron was spoken about or recalled to the forefront and deepest recesses of her mind.

“You think too much. Your thoughts – a blurred mess.” the voice hissed out along her ear and staring into the mirror within her small apartment, Hale seen herself. Fully awake though neither present or absent. A force of in between daydreaming and consciousness as a frown pitched to her lips, attention regarding the sable form behind her bathed in void energy. Some called them familiars, others called them nightmares or figments of one’s imagination; to her, it was yet another way of being in two places at once. A useful apparition.  

“That is precisely the point. One mustn’t be too open else there is no closing the door.” a wave of the Priest’s hand came and the form shifted, there was a plume from one shoulder to the other until it formed yet again on her opposite side.

Clouded lips hissed against Hale’s ear in the mirror, “You’re nothing thinking about going back, are you?” and the letter in Hale’s grasp altered within her tight grasp, “You know there is nothing left, you’re far too gone to go back. Think about it.”

“I have.”
“How much.”
“Enough to know that I’m ready to return.”
“So you think.”

The trailing whispers clipped and vanished when the spirit of the apparition did leaving her alone. With an idle gaze, Hale’s eyes scanned the large set room only to pause her attention to the violin in the corner. A hobby, a love and enjoyment she carried with her since her childhood and as always, her hand met the heavy, silver bell dangling from her throat, “So I know.” she finally offered in a hushed reply and she stood from her chaise and threw her cloak over her shoulders. It would have been a long ride to Duskwood in the cold but such climate was hardly a bother to her as she had often traveled from place to place and much of her time had been spent in Northrend up until this very year.

The Broken Shores was no treat and far from a place she desired to be but the pay was good and there was a vast amount of experiences to have in the moment.

Trekking through the leaves and cobbled road towards the stables, the cloud of violet plumed behind the Priest once more, “Where are you going?” it echoed, trailing a mere few feet behind her.

“I’m going home.” the reply came and without a second thought, directed with certainty and without regret. Tucking her cloak firmer along her neck, Hale ushered herself forward and didn’t look back. That was the last she heard from her familiar for a time.