((Co-written with Alia Atherton's player, with gratitude. Any mistakes are mine alone!))
The fellow named Jon Chess looked up at the tower in the Elwynn Forest, ostensibly the home of his friend Alia. Alia had attuned Jon's communications amulet to hers, ensuring that he didn't get lost. The tower was similar to other mage towers he had seen in the past in Theramore and elsewhere - several stories tall, with a long winding staircase on the inside of thick stone walls. Jon had been to enough towers to be wary when approaching; some of them had nasty surprises for those who had mayhem in their hearts; something, on this occasion, of which Chess was innocent.
For a change.
He saw no signs of occupancy, but that was not necessarily unusual for mage towers; they had a tendency towards privacy that made Jon's own precautions look like the play of a child. Jon walked up to the front door and knocked loudly.
There was no answer for some time, then the creak of old metal from above. A young woman, whose appearance looked more akin to a banshee then anything remotely similar to Alia Atherton, stared tiredly down at him.
“Jon Chess? I-I’ll be right down!”
The window slammed shut, and a moment later the door opened for the towers winded mistress. “I see you finally decided to take me up on my offer. Please come in, I have coffee started and- OH! Watch how you step. I’d prefer not to be skinned alive by all the women in the city as a result of my hand in your demise.” She winked sly over her shoulder and led him up the long stone spiral staircase to the main room.
As Jon thought, the inside of the doorway was lined with runes that hummed with magic.
Spacious though it seemed on the outside, the interior was quite cozy. Dark wood bookshelves, cubbies, and cabinets lined the walls. Books, scrolls, and random notes filled them with an authoritarian level or organization. Tables and desks covered in typical home goods, a fireplace with a kettle, a book that floated in the center of the room without assistance, with candles and loose pages floating aimlessly around them; all of it came together as a tapestry of arcane mystery and homemade warmth.
"The only women who might regret my passing are those women who haven't met me yet; once they get to know me, I become more invisible to them than a Grand Master of the Shadows..." Jon chuckled bitterly, carefully watching his step nonetheless. He looked around at the homey decor. "Your home looks most comfortable - although I admit that my tastes tend towards books, books, and more books. Of course, yours are scholarly monographs and the like, whereas my books are... fiction of a dubious nature."
An exasperated sigh as she cleaned up a table. A large piece of wood covered in strings connecting maps, notes, and pictures was propped up in front of the window it faced, "And what am I? Chopped liver? Stop selling yourself short Jon Chess." She laughed, "And what gave you the idea that I don't have books of dubious nature as well?" Alia grinned, making direct eye contact with Jon, "Who is to say I don't love myself a tale about torrid romances and well-placed metaphors from time to time?"
"No, I don't think so... I always imagine you bent over a folio or tome, reading crabbed foreign scripts by candlelight, making obscure notes on a properly-ruled parchment, with a cup of stone-cold, neglected coffee at hand," Jon said. "If I could posit that you have literary tastes as smutty and lowbrow as my own, I'd want to make you dinner and read to you all night."
The corners of her smile fell, and Alia stood there frozen, eyeing him up and down with a mixed expression. Clearly, something he said started her gears turning. She opened her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it. She turned her back to him, busying herself with the finishing touches of coffee making.
“Tell me, what have I, or more likely haven’t done, to earn this audience with you?” She continues, ”Every time we run into each other, you always seem to be busy with some other task. I’m not the subject of a case, am I?” She laughed softly to herself. “I make it a point to return Ms.Whisperleafs book on time, to the hour, you know.”
Jon pondered her words for a moment and then spoke with an uncharacteristic honesty and candor. "Alia, I am not sure what you think is going on with me, but you are not the focus of a plot, conspiracy, or campaign. I have recently been very... damaged, emotionally. I find you attractive, not only because you are lovely - you are - but also because you and I have kept running into each other, but not by any design of mine. I frequent bookstores because there are some subjects in which I have a scholarly interest and because I love reading stories. I chanced upon that encounter with the incompetent footpads, and rather than follow my first, rather violent reactions I instead tried to help without anyone being defenestrated. You are sharp-witted and smarter than I am, and I like you. I am not courting you, per se, but think that kissing you might be quite a pleasurable thing, and the start, perhaps, of something more; I am wary of making assumptions about both how my attention might be perceived by you, and a lot of doubt as to how welcome they might be, so I am going slow, trying to get to learn more about you, and ... yeah, I'm out of words. I do not often show it, but my brash outward forwardness is a masque hiding an insecure street rat who has no business aspiring to more. Madame Whisperleaf is a sometimes-client, but I am not part of some 'goon squad' whose purpose is to beat up patrons late on their book rentals!"
The clatter of a spoon falling to the floor broke the long silence that followed. Alia spun on her heel to face him directly; She had bitten down on her bottom lip hard, and eyes were wider than anything Jon had ever seen from her. Like a fish gasping, she struggled for breath and words both. ” Jon... I- I...wish... I wish you would have said something sooner.” She laughed nervously, her eyes tearing up even as a brilliant smile overtook her. “I was convinced.... tha- that you knew, and were just.... stringing me along!”
With a great deal of caution, she stepped towards him,” Jon Chess, you have been an enigma that has plagued my waking mind for too long. You command attention and respect when you speak, but your words are never harsh or demanding. I have never met a mind that is as hungry for a good story until you, and the light in your eyes when I gave you those books was one of the most beautiful things, other then perhaps the idea you kissing me, which I have spent a great deal of effort trying to bury because I did not want you to think I was a silly little girl playing at being-“ She took a deep breath, shaking a little,” My point is, I happen to like this particular street rat, and I think if he’d listened to me for just a damned minute, he might see that he absolutely has the business of wanting more....”
Now very much face to face, she stared down at his shoes, a red blush spreading to the tips of her ears. “And good! It’d be a waste of your incredible talents!”
Jon stepped the rest of the way towards Alia and leaned within inches of her. "You should be wary of giving me too much encouragement, Alia - you might never be able to get rid of me." Something of his usual self-confidence seemed to return, but he had learned long ago that when hoping for a kiss, a first kiss, to go close, but let your partner finish the movement; that kisses were best done as a duet. Jon began as he meant to go on - slowly and gently, so as to not unsettle Alia... too much, in any case.
The sound of his voice brought her back the moment.
“Unfortunately I have a knack for not knowing when to stop...”
She met him halfway, hesitating, cautious, if not fearful at first, but growing in confidence as her lips pressed against his. Her fingers brushing his as they reached out for his hand.
Jon felt her lips press against his, and he smiled. The kiss was not overly long in duration, nor was it exceptionally passionate; this was a reconnaissance mission of sorts, not a full-fledged battle. Jon felt her fingers brush his hand, and he took the questing fingers gently in his own. Jon pulled back a little, amazed that either fire nor ice nor arcane bolt been launched - and yet, he felt an impact as welcome as it was delicious. Conflagrations could spring from a single such a beginning.
Alia held onto his hand even as he pulled back, giving it a small reassuring squeeze. Giving him space, she led his hand to her lips, kissing his palm in the same manner he had once kissed hers.
“I... could get used to that. Unless of course, that was entirely the worst kiss you’ve ever had, in which case I’ll have to ask you to use one of those knives on me because I will not be able to live with the embarrassment.” She rambled almost incoherently, her grip getting tighter the longer she went on.
Jon used her held hand to draw her close once more so he could kiss her again. He captured her lips with his, still gentle, but with a more controlled passion behind it. His right hand in hers, his other hand snaked around her waist, pulling her gently to him. His lips parted slightly, and he enjoyed the subtle taste of her lips as he sought to both calm her and ignite her.
Catching her mid-sentence, she had no way to hold back the small moan that escaped her lips as she was pulled, nor her free hand that slid across his body to cradle the back of his neck. “Jon I-“
She pushed him back, though still very much in his embrace so she could look into his eyes,” Jon I need to know.... and don’t take this the wrong way, but am I the only one your... ‘trying things” out with?” The hand on his neck made its way to his cheek, her thumb caressing it absentmindedly.
Jon grinned, pleased that she was not one to play games and would instead ask forthrightly as to what she wanted to know. "At the moment, I have no regular lovers, and aside from my auction date with Cassiela, have no plans to date any other while we pursue ...possibilities." Jon gave a little sigh, forcing himself to be very honest - which did not come naturally to a spy and assassin. "I am not always forthcoming and honest - I have lived too long in the greys of twilight for that. But I will tell you something that nobody else knows... I have a connection, of sorts, with the Power called Aviana; I think she's kind of adopted me as a mascot since my working name is Rook. I would not dare to swear by her falsely; while I will never intend to mislead you were our relationship is concerned, if you ever have doubts, make me swear by Her."
Though she said nothing, Alia’s eyes did her speaking for her; They smiled at his honesty, hinted at jealousy, and finally lit up as they so often do when her lust for knowledge is ignited,”Aviana? THE Aviana? Highfather’s wisdom Jon! Now that’s a story you have to tell me.... but perhaps another time?” With an almost predatory grin, she leaned into him, leaving wisps of kisses along his jaw, and down his neck before coming easing off. “We can’t waste all of our stories in one night.”
"No indeed!" agreed Jon, "but before you make me forget all about my reason for coming here... well, my overt one, anyways... I wanted to ask you what kind of dinner you would like me to make you tonight?" Jon grinned, repressing vocalization of his thought that she herself would make a fine thing to feast upon. "Slowly, Jon...do not even think of rushing things with this one. She matters" he thought to himself.
She muttered softly under her breath, letting go of him and crossing her arms in front of her chest,” My answer depends on where this dinner is? Because I will warn you, I have...very little here.”
"We may eat wherever like - picnic style, perhaps. I can show you my meditation spot, for example. I will cook at Phred's house in Dalaran, and then take it wherever would suit you," Jon half-planned logistics while he was talking.
“As long as it’s not conjured, I will follow you and your food to the ends of Azeroth.” She laughed, more to herself than anything else, and in a blink of an eye was on the other side of the room, pulling down a cord that activated a fold away staircase, and back in front of him before he could lift a finger. “I want to see where the incredible Jon Chess finds his solace, now that he has seen where the moronic Magna finds hers.” Her eyes flickered with violet energy when she returned. “I imagine it’s very close to a cheese shop.”
"What, Phred's? It's near the Violet Citadel, actually - she loves the libraries at the Kirin Tor. But she values food, so she has a well-appointed kitchen so she can have me make her lunch when I need a consultation." Jon laughed. "I have all the cheese I need. ...is Magna a name or a title?" he asked, his well-developed curiosity getting the better of him.
“You? Enough cheese? Well, I never!” She laughed right alongside him,“...it’s... it’s a title. Magna, or Magus, depending on gender, is the title bestowed on a mage who has proven themselves to be of suitable skill. Thinking about it as a ladder, it’s considered a rung or two below an Archmage. It just means that the Kirin Tor accept me as one of their own. Well, it used to anyway...” she explained in a monotone voice, like reading it from a book.
"Not in their good graces? I thought that 'Magna' was Old Arathor for 'The Great'? And the Kirin Tor has their uses - I just won't work for them."
“I believe at one point it was, but it got repurposed during the days of the first Alliance or something like tha— and it’s more complicated than that. I’m not sure if... you’d understand me. No that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
Jon looks at her quizzically. "The minute you offend me, I will forgive you - but you haven't managed it yet!" Jon grinned. "I know that I am not the sharpest blade in the armory. Just curious and stubborn... although that can have an edge all its own."
Alia just sighed, though her smile had regained its warmth.
Light, Void, and Nether, this man will be the death of me...a wonderful, joyful death. But still death.
The fellow named Jon Chess looked up at the tower in the Elwynn Forest, ostensibly the home of his friend Alia. Alia had attuned Jon's communications amulet to hers, ensuring that he didn't get lost. The tower was similar to other mage towers he had seen in the past in Theramore and elsewhere - several stories tall, with a long winding staircase on the inside of thick stone walls. Jon had been to enough towers to be wary when approaching; some of them had nasty surprises for those who had mayhem in their hearts; something, on this occasion, of which Chess was innocent.
For a change.
He saw no signs of occupancy, but that was not necessarily unusual for mage towers; they had a tendency towards privacy that made Jon's own precautions look like the play of a child. Jon walked up to the front door and knocked loudly.
There was no answer for some time, then the creak of old metal from above. A young woman, whose appearance looked more akin to a banshee then anything remotely similar to Alia Atherton, stared tiredly down at him.
“Jon Chess? I-I’ll be right down!”
 |
| Alia Atherton |
As Jon thought, the inside of the doorway was lined with runes that hummed with magic.
Spacious though it seemed on the outside, the interior was quite cozy. Dark wood bookshelves, cubbies, and cabinets lined the walls. Books, scrolls, and random notes filled them with an authoritarian level or organization. Tables and desks covered in typical home goods, a fireplace with a kettle, a book that floated in the center of the room without assistance, with candles and loose pages floating aimlessly around them; all of it came together as a tapestry of arcane mystery and homemade warmth.
"The only women who might regret my passing are those women who haven't met me yet; once they get to know me, I become more invisible to them than a Grand Master of the Shadows..." Jon chuckled bitterly, carefully watching his step nonetheless. He looked around at the homey decor. "Your home looks most comfortable - although I admit that my tastes tend towards books, books, and more books. Of course, yours are scholarly monographs and the like, whereas my books are... fiction of a dubious nature."
An exasperated sigh as she cleaned up a table. A large piece of wood covered in strings connecting maps, notes, and pictures was propped up in front of the window it faced, "And what am I? Chopped liver? Stop selling yourself short Jon Chess." She laughed, "And what gave you the idea that I don't have books of dubious nature as well?" Alia grinned, making direct eye contact with Jon, "Who is to say I don't love myself a tale about torrid romances and well-placed metaphors from time to time?"
"No, I don't think so... I always imagine you bent over a folio or tome, reading crabbed foreign scripts by candlelight, making obscure notes on a properly-ruled parchment, with a cup of stone-cold, neglected coffee at hand," Jon said. "If I could posit that you have literary tastes as smutty and lowbrow as my own, I'd want to make you dinner and read to you all night."
The corners of her smile fell, and Alia stood there frozen, eyeing him up and down with a mixed expression. Clearly, something he said started her gears turning. She opened her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it. She turned her back to him, busying herself with the finishing touches of coffee making.
“Tell me, what have I, or more likely haven’t done, to earn this audience with you?” She continues, ”Every time we run into each other, you always seem to be busy with some other task. I’m not the subject of a case, am I?” She laughed softly to herself. “I make it a point to return Ms.Whisperleafs book on time, to the hour, you know.”
Jon pondered her words for a moment and then spoke with an uncharacteristic honesty and candor. "Alia, I am not sure what you think is going on with me, but you are not the focus of a plot, conspiracy, or campaign. I have recently been very... damaged, emotionally. I find you attractive, not only because you are lovely - you are - but also because you and I have kept running into each other, but not by any design of mine. I frequent bookstores because there are some subjects in which I have a scholarly interest and because I love reading stories. I chanced upon that encounter with the incompetent footpads, and rather than follow my first, rather violent reactions I instead tried to help without anyone being defenestrated. You are sharp-witted and smarter than I am, and I like you. I am not courting you, per se, but think that kissing you might be quite a pleasurable thing, and the start, perhaps, of something more; I am wary of making assumptions about both how my attention might be perceived by you, and a lot of doubt as to how welcome they might be, so I am going slow, trying to get to learn more about you, and ... yeah, I'm out of words. I do not often show it, but my brash outward forwardness is a masque hiding an insecure street rat who has no business aspiring to more. Madame Whisperleaf is a sometimes-client, but I am not part of some 'goon squad' whose purpose is to beat up patrons late on their book rentals!"
The clatter of a spoon falling to the floor broke the long silence that followed. Alia spun on her heel to face him directly; She had bitten down on her bottom lip hard, and eyes were wider than anything Jon had ever seen from her. Like a fish gasping, she struggled for breath and words both. ” Jon... I- I...wish... I wish you would have said something sooner.” She laughed nervously, her eyes tearing up even as a brilliant smile overtook her. “I was convinced.... tha- that you knew, and were just.... stringing me along!”
With a great deal of caution, she stepped towards him,” Jon Chess, you have been an enigma that has plagued my waking mind for too long. You command attention and respect when you speak, but your words are never harsh or demanding. I have never met a mind that is as hungry for a good story until you, and the light in your eyes when I gave you those books was one of the most beautiful things, other then perhaps the idea you kissing me, which I have spent a great deal of effort trying to bury because I did not want you to think I was a silly little girl playing at being-“ She took a deep breath, shaking a little,” My point is, I happen to like this particular street rat, and I think if he’d listened to me for just a damned minute, he might see that he absolutely has the business of wanting more....”
Now very much face to face, she stared down at his shoes, a red blush spreading to the tips of her ears. “And good! It’d be a waste of your incredible talents!”
Jon stepped the rest of the way towards Alia and leaned within inches of her. "You should be wary of giving me too much encouragement, Alia - you might never be able to get rid of me." Something of his usual self-confidence seemed to return, but he had learned long ago that when hoping for a kiss, a first kiss, to go close, but let your partner finish the movement; that kisses were best done as a duet. Jon began as he meant to go on - slowly and gently, so as to not unsettle Alia... too much, in any case.
The sound of his voice brought her back the moment.
“Unfortunately I have a knack for not knowing when to stop...”
She met him halfway, hesitating, cautious, if not fearful at first, but growing in confidence as her lips pressed against his. Her fingers brushing his as they reached out for his hand.
Jon felt her lips press against his, and he smiled. The kiss was not overly long in duration, nor was it exceptionally passionate; this was a reconnaissance mission of sorts, not a full-fledged battle. Jon felt her fingers brush his hand, and he took the questing fingers gently in his own. Jon pulled back a little, amazed that either fire nor ice nor arcane bolt been launched - and yet, he felt an impact as welcome as it was delicious. Conflagrations could spring from a single such a beginning.
Alia held onto his hand even as he pulled back, giving it a small reassuring squeeze. Giving him space, she led his hand to her lips, kissing his palm in the same manner he had once kissed hers.
“I... could get used to that. Unless of course, that was entirely the worst kiss you’ve ever had, in which case I’ll have to ask you to use one of those knives on me because I will not be able to live with the embarrassment.” She rambled almost incoherently, her grip getting tighter the longer she went on.
Jon used her held hand to draw her close once more so he could kiss her again. He captured her lips with his, still gentle, but with a more controlled passion behind it. His right hand in hers, his other hand snaked around her waist, pulling her gently to him. His lips parted slightly, and he enjoyed the subtle taste of her lips as he sought to both calm her and ignite her.
Catching her mid-sentence, she had no way to hold back the small moan that escaped her lips as she was pulled, nor her free hand that slid across his body to cradle the back of his neck. “Jon I-“
She pushed him back, though still very much in his embrace so she could look into his eyes,” Jon I need to know.... and don’t take this the wrong way, but am I the only one your... ‘trying things” out with?” The hand on his neck made its way to his cheek, her thumb caressing it absentmindedly.
Jon grinned, pleased that she was not one to play games and would instead ask forthrightly as to what she wanted to know. "At the moment, I have no regular lovers, and aside from my auction date with Cassiela, have no plans to date any other while we pursue ...possibilities." Jon gave a little sigh, forcing himself to be very honest - which did not come naturally to a spy and assassin. "I am not always forthcoming and honest - I have lived too long in the greys of twilight for that. But I will tell you something that nobody else knows... I have a connection, of sorts, with the Power called Aviana; I think she's kind of adopted me as a mascot since my working name is Rook. I would not dare to swear by her falsely; while I will never intend to mislead you were our relationship is concerned, if you ever have doubts, make me swear by Her."
Though she said nothing, Alia’s eyes did her speaking for her; They smiled at his honesty, hinted at jealousy, and finally lit up as they so often do when her lust for knowledge is ignited,”Aviana? THE Aviana? Highfather’s wisdom Jon! Now that’s a story you have to tell me.... but perhaps another time?” With an almost predatory grin, she leaned into him, leaving wisps of kisses along his jaw, and down his neck before coming easing off. “We can’t waste all of our stories in one night.”
"No indeed!" agreed Jon, "but before you make me forget all about my reason for coming here... well, my overt one, anyways... I wanted to ask you what kind of dinner you would like me to make you tonight?" Jon grinned, repressing vocalization of his thought that she herself would make a fine thing to feast upon. "Slowly, Jon...do not even think of rushing things with this one. She matters" he thought to himself.
She muttered softly under her breath, letting go of him and crossing her arms in front of her chest,” My answer depends on where this dinner is? Because I will warn you, I have...very little here.”
"We may eat wherever like - picnic style, perhaps. I can show you my meditation spot, for example. I will cook at Phred's house in Dalaran, and then take it wherever would suit you," Jon half-planned logistics while he was talking.
“As long as it’s not conjured, I will follow you and your food to the ends of Azeroth.” She laughed, more to herself than anything else, and in a blink of an eye was on the other side of the room, pulling down a cord that activated a fold away staircase, and back in front of him before he could lift a finger. “I want to see where the incredible Jon Chess finds his solace, now that he has seen where the moronic Magna finds hers.” Her eyes flickered with violet energy when she returned. “I imagine it’s very close to a cheese shop.”
"What, Phred's? It's near the Violet Citadel, actually - she loves the libraries at the Kirin Tor. But she values food, so she has a well-appointed kitchen so she can have me make her lunch when I need a consultation." Jon laughed. "I have all the cheese I need. ...is Magna a name or a title?" he asked, his well-developed curiosity getting the better of him.
“You? Enough cheese? Well, I never!” She laughed right alongside him,“...it’s... it’s a title. Magna, or Magus, depending on gender, is the title bestowed on a mage who has proven themselves to be of suitable skill. Thinking about it as a ladder, it’s considered a rung or two below an Archmage. It just means that the Kirin Tor accept me as one of their own. Well, it used to anyway...” she explained in a monotone voice, like reading it from a book.
"Not in their good graces? I thought that 'Magna' was Old Arathor for 'The Great'? And the Kirin Tor has their uses - I just won't work for them."
“I believe at one point it was, but it got repurposed during the days of the first Alliance or something like tha— and it’s more complicated than that. I’m not sure if... you’d understand me. No that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
Jon looks at her quizzically. "The minute you offend me, I will forgive you - but you haven't managed it yet!" Jon grinned. "I know that I am not the sharpest blade in the armory. Just curious and stubborn... although that can have an edge all its own."
Alia just sighed, though her smile had regained its warmth.
Light, Void, and Nether, this man will be the death of me...a wonderful, joyful death. But still death.
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