The light in the sky hung as usually did, a way to trick the mind into thinking that they were above ground and not sunk so deep underground that without the hanging crustal in the sky, and its mood swings from golden light to purple hued madness, they would be plunged into total darkness.
She had gotten the mail and had made it back to Stormwind in the evening that Sunday, heavy thoughts on her mind, choices to be made and the idea of just fishing, of just enjoying a simple activity appealed to her. She paid the gnome for a faster delivery than normal, watching the letter she had written up be carried off on the ether to Jon Chess before she gathered her items and began to make her way towards Hallowfall.
The fellow most people called Jon Chess filled the wicker basket with a supply of bottles of Dalaran Blanc, Dwarven Stout, and a single canteen of Heathglen Ambrosia (a mixture of raisin rum and strong lemonade) along with packages of sliced meats and a variety of small wheels of cheese. Jon did not know what would appeal to his fishing partner, but he hoped some of it would appeal. "Who didn't like Smoked Roast Talbuck, after all?" he mumbled as he finished packing and strapped the basket to his back as a pack, and headed to the hall of portals in Stormwind.
Portals generally were taxing to her, the complete tearing apart and putting back together, in the right places, made her nervous, even now. To her, it made no logical sense, even when explained that she gave up trying to understand it. A griffon was paid for, flown with her bag attached to her hip, a bag that magically could hold anything and everything she would need.
She was dressed comfortably, leather boots, cloth pants with a jacket of sorts, sunglasses crafted by an engineer that could filter out all the different types of light and just allow her to see things as they were. Hair was clean and brushed, though riding on the Gryphon would only cause a bit of a mess. She was thankful her hair was straight.
It took an hour or two before she landed at the spot carefully notated on the map she had been given by Jon and after sliding off the mount she had decided to use and slapping its backside to send it away to rest, she trained her eyes forward as she walked, hoping to catch sign of him.
Jon stepped forward from the shadows of the cliffside, where he had chosen to conceal himself from any passing predators. He carried the wicker basket in his hands and smiled, waving to Elisabeta with his free hand. "Hello there! I hope this spot is suitable? I am told that it is ideally situated, as the fish tend to pool in the shade of the bridge."
She waved back to him, unbinding her bag from her back and allowing it to slide off her back to her right shoulder, hanging loosely and managed by her right elbow as she walked forward, "No this is perfectly fine." She remarked, eyebrows quirked at the sign of the basket. "Is that for you or for the fish? You plan on catching a big one?" She joked quietly.
"Who can say? I do know that fishing can work up quite the hunger, so I came prepared." Jon opened the wicker basket, first removing a thin blanket and spreading it open well above the curve of the waterline. The bottles and flasks of the assorted alcohol followed, with Jon burying them halfway in the insulating silica. He set a pair of thin wooden platters next to the containers of meats, and made a pile of the small cheese wheels in the center. "Courtesy of Trias Cheese in Stormwind. Please, help yourself whenever you like."
Jon removed the final canvas bag, which contained a set of tackle and thin, whiplike mithril rods. Each segment screwed into the end of the previous rod, and in minutes he had a portable strong but flexible fishing rod. "When I am in a hurry for food, I sometimes use a Dwarven Fishing Pole", he said, chuckling. "But mostly I fish for mediation between jobs."
She took a few more steps forward before allowing her pack to slip from her shoulder to the ground, making a soft thud noise when it landed. Curious eyes glanced at the food for a moment before she bent down on bended knee to open her pack and dig around for a moment before a large fishing pole was removed. Simple in its design, carved from wood native to Northrend with a Tuskar emblem carved into the side. It was set to the side.
Next came out a flexible, gnome crafted chair that was in a box, uncoiled with a simple push of a button to something that could be relaxed into and clearly wasn't anything fancy either. Practicality was something she admired, and it was clear in the items she chose.
Love the chair..."Jon commented, and she could hear the grief redolent in his voice. "Clearly you are quite experienced."
"I had in mind a bit of a game to help us get to know each other a little better," Chess said. "Alia and I call it 'Question', in which the players alternate asking each other questions, and giving honest and complete answers - or honestly decline to answer, at no penalty." Jon laughed. "Of course, my kids played a more risqué version with their friends, but that is how kids are. Would you like to play?"
"I'll even let you go first..."
She got situated, making sure the line in the rod was clear, the hook clean as well, repaired from the last time she had taken the time to relax.
With a simple glance to him before she looked back to her chair, she took a deep seat into the saddle type of chair, keeping her feet on the ground with her pole in the middle while she fiddled with it.
"Sure, sounds fun. I have to answer honestly though?"
“Yes, but you can decline to answer, without any reason given,” he replied. “The point is to discover things, not to intrude on the purely private. Then again, some people have secrets that are not theirs to share, and I respect that.”
"Honesty, not sadism" he said, a sardonic grin framing his face.
With a shrug of her shoulder, she nodded, "I"m not that good at being intrusive with people. I don't like asking questions as I figure if they wanted to talk about themselves, they would." She gave a wry smile, eyeing him again. "Suppose I'll have to step out of my comfort zone for this."
"Why don't you go first?"
“Very well, I shall. Are you aware of the fact that SI:7 has a complete file on your background?” Jon asked with deceptive ease. He was well aware that the question could easily end the game, their fishing, and possibly his life, but he was not quite so big of a hypocrite as to ask for honestly, and begin with a lie. He had found that the secret to lying well was to lie only when absolutely necessary; the rest of the time he was almost compulsively honest. He would deflect, he would defer, he would obfuscate, but almost never lie.
Her eyes lifted slightly to the water when he spoke, turning hard in an instant before she let her eyes drop back to her pole, slowly making sure the line was free of tangles with her finger tips.
"Interesting." Was her comment, made in a hard and clipped voice that dripped with deeply held anger that was well under control, like everything else in her life.
"You've seen it?"
“Yes” Jon made a bone scroll case appear as if by magic. “I had one copy. If you tell me what you want the file to say, or disappear altogether, I’ll make sure it happens,” he offered, tossing the case to the sand near her. “No charge, of course.”
Her eyes shifted to the canister that dropped near the sand by her feet before they looked back to the string in her fingers, pulling it taunt..slowly.
"I never accept anything an SI:7 agent says as truth. So thanks but uh..keep it."
“Oh, I never accept SI:7 reports at face value. You should see MY file; so many mistakes. Things I did that they got wrong, things I didn’t do that they attribute to me,” Jon said. “It’s one of the reasons that I feel no compunction about changing or deleting files. Except my own, of course. “
Jon didn’t mention that he had, on several occasions, deleted any other files kept on his wife or his children. Mathias Shaw was a petty little man, and would not scruple to strike at Join through them, even though he knew that angering the assassin known as the Rook would be a very dangerous game.
She continued to fix the pole, keeping an eye on it while she spoke in a soft, but clear voice.
"Generally speaking, it's not wise to show your cards too soon with someone you've known for barely any time."
With a quick flick of her wrist, she cast out, letting the line fly before it sank below the edge of the water, then came back up as a magical lure attached to the en"Does your family, your children, know what daddy is up to?" She said quietly.d of it, bobbing slowly while she relaxed back in her chair.
Chess shrugged. “Nobody has ever accused me of being wise. Just, on occasion, effective.”
Jon stepped down to the waterline and stepped into the cold water and cast his own line. “Your turn.”
“"Does your family, your children, know what daddy is up to?" she said quietly.
Jon made a sigh as if deflating. “They know that I serve, and have served, Lady Proudmoore since the beginning of Theramore. They know that the former head of the entire Alliance spy service is their ‘Uncle Elling’. They know that I am a user of Shadow magics, that I am a thief and a scoundrel and do whatever Jaina asks of me,” he said slowly. “They knew from a young age that the world is a violent and unfair place, which was why they all learned to fight dirty - effectively - from a young age. Neither Alia nor I hid the truth of the world from them.” Jon’s voice was steady, but a single tear broke through his carefully crafted facade. “They know I thank the Light that none of them have turned out like their Father.”
“Alia knows every last bit of it; she also serves Jaina, at the Lord Admiral’s need, as a secretary. I have no secrets from my Beloved; after all, when we met she and a healer were burning Sa’Diablo from my body without killing or crippling me.” Sa’Diablo was a euphoric narcotic infused with Fel magic and soul shards, and Jon had been addicted to their healing power. She had fallen in love with him in spite of the shattered psyche that had created the Rook, in spite of the addiction, in spite of the violence that he had once been convinced was his only value in the world. She had been determined from their first meeting to show him he deserved better, that he could have better if he was willing to reach for it. To fight for it with the same single focus he had in serving Jaina. He had decided then that he would hold nothing back, that if they were going to love one another she needed to know all of his metaphysical moles and warts, because he feared if he held back and she found out anyway, he would not be able to survive her leaving. And to her credit, she never did, though the road was long and rough, and she earned more than a few scars and painful memories traveling it with him than she would have otherwise. Jon Chess may have been the Rook to the world of shadows, but to him, she was his Queen.
“Fortunately they take more after their mother, and to some extent their Uncles, Dane and Rorik. The silver on each of their heads, however, is enough of a mark for me.”
“Fortunately they take after their mother and Uncle Dane, and not me.”
She said nothing as she listened to him, occasionally lifting the line of her pole upwards in a quick but small jerking motion while her eyes stayed on the water where the bobber was floating.
"Suppose that's something then." She remarked before giving him a bit of a nod, eyes still fixated on the water.
"Your turn."
Jon took a moment to re-orient his mind; he had not meant to re-live, to reveal so much, but this exchange must be honest and complete for it to have value. He had nor expected her questions to be so insightful.
“Why did you kill your husband?” Jon asked, his voice deceptively calm.
Oh, it was going to be like this...
She thought quietly to herself, her face impassive from years of practice as the question was asked and silence filled the air...until she broke the silence with her answer.
"Because he lied to me."
"Indeed?" Remind me never to take you to the Eastvale Horse Market. I would be a bloodbath," Jon said in a deadpan voice. "Whoever was tasked with burying the details did a superlative job, by the way." Jon waited, letting the silence build, while waiting for her to elaborate.
She did not.
"Your turn, then?"
She did not elaborate. He was right. Some secrets remained secrets, even after years had passed.
She took a slow breath in, letting it back out just as slowly before she asked her question to him.
"Why did you marry?"
Jon smiled, remembering the small ceremony in the Northshire Abbey. "Really quite simple. The world was at war. Queen Azshara had opened the gates of Nazjatar, I had been called upon to support the war effort. We loved each other deeply, and Alia had made it clear that she was not going to be left alone in this world. Not because of a ‘stupid, selfish war’, in any case, and she also made it very clear she wanted a family one day. A real one. Any children of mine were not going to be bastards, and we were both very, very determined that they would not be orphans. But, before we could plan, we needed to survive the mission. We decided to take care of the latter and do our best on the former. Plus, being married conferred legal authority and rights to information that would have otherwise been denied. So before we jumped off into that hole, we married."
"So you married..to have children?" She asked, glancing at him with an even gaze set on her face.
“Yes, I guess you could say that we married so that we might have children. Still, when the twins showed up, it was an utter surprise. Not that she was pregnant, mind you. If Alia had left it to me alone, we still might not have had children yet; Alia and I still put ourselves at risk, and my age… Well, let's just say that I no longer have the same edge I once had. I’m slower. Fortunately, I am also sneakier. I always suspected that Alia had a hand in circumventing my contraception, but I have never asked. Doesn’t seem relevant, really…”
"Wait...what?" She asked, sitting up in her chair a bit, fixing her sharp green eyes towards him. "What was that about circumventing contraception?"
"Thistle tea, taken regularly, prevents men from being able to conceive by lowering the seed viability. Alia has always had access to the cabinet where I kept the leaves, and I taught her the rudimentary use of my poisons kit, in case there was trouble and I could not heal myself. In any event, Baron and Bishop were unplanned," Jon informed.
She looked at him a moment, before flicking a brow upwards slightly while settling back into her chair again, eyes forward. "So she messed with the birth control without telling anyone and had an oppsie baby, or babies, in your case."
"Perhaps. Perhaps she knew I would never stop until I had a reason to. Perhaps she swapped my tea for one of similar taste but with no effect, or found a spell that would overcome her own infertility brought on by the excessive arcane use of her past and left the rest to chance. Perhaps it was a bit of both," Jon stated. “Regardless, they are my children, every one of them, and I love them.”
"Your word unto the Light. Blood doesn't make children yours anyway. " she said, perhaps agreeing with him on this point. "Your question now, if you wish."
Jon nodded, although at what, he was not sure. “Why did you refuse magical healing after the Battle of Dalaran?”
"My relationship with the Light, or any forms of magic is strained. I didn't trust it," Elisabeta said.
“Fair enough. If you would like, I can supply you with a few vials of my own Crimson Mist healing draught? Clearly you have not stopped the fighting.” Jon shrugged. He made a good supply of medical supplies, stashed at several safe houses in Stormwind, Ironforge, Boralus, and Dornigal. He could spare a few bottles if she trusted him enough to use them. “Your turn.”
She quickly shook her head at the offer of a potion, her answer almost too quick as it came. "No. Thank you. It heals when it heals." Her tone wasn't necessarily harsh, but it was firm. Resolute, even.
"Do you make it a habit to tell people you have connections with SI:7? My knowledge of the organization is such that no one should know that you have one."
Jon laughed out loud. “SI:7 is the worst-kept secret in the Alliance, and one of the reasons I refused to work for them. Everyone in the Great Game has a relationship with SI:7, some antagonistic, some allied. Shaw hires outsiders all the time because he has a track record of losing agents in a slipshod manner. The important secrets I don’t talk about, but a relationship with SI:7 isn’t one of them.”
"Still...a bit odd that you're so free with the information." She said, keeping her eyes on him a moment before looking back to her pole, bouncing it a bit slightly. "Who knows if the people I know would be interested in people like you. In war, sides are always taken.." she said softly.
She scoffed lightly, shaking her head while she spoke to him. "I don't understand why but, I'm not about to tell you how to make specific choices in your life."
"Suppose it is your turn again." She remarked, reaching up to smooth the thick straight strands of blonde grey hair away from her face.
“I only have one more important question left; how can I help?” Jon had many unimportant questions - what was your favorite steamy romance, what was your favorite type of cheese, what sort of beverage do you prefer, but while informative, the answers weren’t important.
Almost as important as whether or not she’d let him help. Likely not; she was too busy beating herself up to allow anyone to see her as a person of value. Still, she could surprise him.
"Help?" she asked, glancing back at him, brow raised slightly as the question was posed. "Why would you think I needed help?"
Her answer did not surprise him. "I guess you don't. Still, open offer. Your turn."
"That was your question? How do I need help?" She might have cracked a smile for the briefest of moments before turning her gaze forward again to the water. "I assume that your wife knows that you went fishing with a strange woman?"
“She does indeed.” Alia had trusted Jon’s assessment of Elisabeta, even as she remained skeptical that he would be able to improve - or even truly understand - her situation. She knew, possibly better than Jon himself, what demons drove him to do the things he did. Success was problematic; the willingness to try was all that mattered to her.
"Odd." Her only comment as she slouched in the chair, letting her head rest back as the pole in her hands was moved from hand to hand by dropping of fingers into each other in a slow and steady pattern. "DId you have any other questions for me or were those few the extent of your curiosity."
There are always more questions; how you answered told me as much as what you said," replied Jon. "You are very guarded, and do not trust easily. That said, what do you do to relax?"
