"You are unwell."
Not a question, but a statement. The deep, smooth tones of the Sindorei's voice brooked no disagreement, and caused a distraction to creep into her thoughts. Venia slammed down the ancient text she was reading - knocking several pages out of their bindings. Foul dust waved out from between the ancient, yellowed texts.
He was a small man, this Sindorei. They all were, in truth. But this one was small physically - a scholar, one who reads and learns and tries to find facts and lore. He was more knowledgable than her in some things, but oh-so closed minded in others. She could snap him like a twig, this pest. This thing that dares make such statements. Didn't he understand? She was on to something here. On to something great indeed.
"I'm fine, Patrial. Just a little exhausted," a pleasant smile, reassuring, but didn't quite reach her eyes. Their shine was dulled, dark blots visible beneath from fatigue and... and something. The Sindorei didn't buy it, daring to come nearer to her, daring disgrace her with his presence. Didn't he realise who he was dealing with?
"You need to rest, Venia. What is that you're reading? I don't remember seeing that from our libraries. Has it been checked?" questions, questions. Always questions. She fought down the urge to sneer. Then stopped herself, completely, trying to grind the unstoppable wave of her thought to a halt.
Is he right?
She was tired. Oh, so very tired. These latest tomes had proven exhausting, not only on the mind but on the spirit. They were woven, spun like thread to be sown into knowledge, but what they were made up of was no meager, simple thing. This was dark, infecting. She could feel it beneath her skin, but she had it under control.
Didn't she?
With a sigh and a nod, she looked at the Sindorei before her. A learned man, and experienced man. She should trust him - he's likely seen this before. She shifted the tome to the side of her desk, trying to put it out of her mind, trying to cleanse herself from its taints. Slowly getting out of her seat, she took in a sharp breath.
"I think I'll leave it for now. Clear my head a bit. I'm sorry Patrial, you know how it is to get caught up in things," another comforting smile - this one a little more genuine, "I think I'll go for a walk. Please, after you."
With a gesture she indicated the door. Like hell she was letting him spend even a breath unattended in her office. Such things she had collected, such glorious things! All of them traps, tricks, objects dedicated to the clouding of judgement, the trapping of souls. Severing that which anchored one to love, hope - and despair.
She smiled as she moved out onto the balcony of the Scryer's Tier, looking over the city. Knowledge is power, some say. It's a lie, but a small one. Knowledge is the key, knowledge are the wings upon which one can soar - one can see. Understanding the paths you try to walk give you the strength to walk them, forwarned is forearmed. Her path was moving in ever more radical paths, she knew this.
She revelled in this.
She wasn't some meager Sentinel girl, stuck watching the flowers grow in Ashenvale. Not anymore, her will to survive got her removed from that so long ago. Her ambitions, her old ways had fallen one by one. A search for somewhere to belong? Fruitless, you make your own space - not stumble upon it. A search for great power? Pointless. What is power but a target? Others would envy. Others would fear. People's reactions told her that much. A search for great love? That just got her into pain, into madness.
No, she'd turned her sights onto a new goal. A search for all of the above - but most of all, a simple concept. Happiness. And she knew the weight she had to shed to do it. She had been intimate with the concepts of light and shadow, the unspoken law that one cannot exsist without the other. Extremes of joy balanced against extremes of soul-rending agony. It was enough to make one ill.
Poets always pine about how it's worth it, how we all find joy and love in the end. Fairy-tales. True for some, perhaps. Not for her. No, no - she was forced into this. Indeed, the world had shoved her into this. What else could she do, after all? Try to find love again?
Does the child that burned their hand in a fire shove it in again? Hardly.
Try to find power again?
Power comes on its own, with time, with experience. Besides, power is also solved with this new path. And the consequences that come with it become irrelevant.
Try to find somewhere to belong?
There was something in that. Belonging. But she was a solitary creature at her core. She didn't need to find belonging, after all. She was all she'd ever needed, and all she could ever rely on. Faith only got one so far, after all.
So with a sigh, she turned her back upon Shattrath, headed for her office. "You are unwell" - perhaps. Perhaps not. But soon, oh so soon, she'd never be unwell again.
Nor in love.
Nor alone.
Nor in despair.
Nor embraced in the bosom of a loving community.
But she'd be happy.
At last.
"You may find that you can read me like an open book, but you'll quickly find this book is more of a mystery novel. Who knows what the shocking conclusions will be, hrmm?"
10 years post Hyjal;
"Venia - what happened to you? Did you fall or were you pushed?"
"Fall? Pushed? Hah. I leapt, and I soared."
