x REBEL

"Seilu, what did you do to your face this time?" The aged high elf asked his blonde daughter, staring in horror at the new nose ring and eyebrow piercing. She folded her arms and glared back, her cyan eyes filled with defiance. "Take them out."

She scowled, her eyebrows furrowing. "Make me." She knew her father would never physically harm her, nor grab her and take out the piercings himself. He didn't have anything to bribe her with, either.

His frown mirrored hers- she did get it from somewhere- and he drew a palm over his face. "I don't understand why you're doing this," he muttered sourly, turning his back to her. That was fine. He didn't understand her, so of course he wouldn't comprehend her reasoning behind anything she did.

The teenage Seilu uncrossed her arms, then put her hands on her hips with a more impish, but at the same time more challenging and serious grin. "Ann'da, when is practice tomorrow?"

He didn't skip a beat before replying, "You're only wasting my time by coming. You barely even try to keep up and you can hardly lift a sword, nevermind wield one."

"Bullshit! If you'd just-"

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me." The iciness in his voice made the girl stop. "If I hear that kind of language out of your mouth again..." He trailed off. Neither of them were entirely sure where he was going with that, but Seilu knew her father would likely come up with something.

After a moment of tense silence, the blonde-haired Quel'dorei turned and stormed away, intending to go and sulk in her room. She wouldn't allow him to see her tears or weakness. She wished her mother was still alive- she knew the black-haired woman would encourage her, rather than deny her aspirations.

~x~

It was during the following hours of solitude that Seilu decided that she would run away. If her father wouldn't teach her to be a warrior, she would find someone else to and she would be the strongest fighter he'd ever laid eyes on. A part of her sought his approval, but her impudent, adolescent self mostly just wanted to shove it in his face that he'd been wrong.

Rather than find a tutor, however, Seilu found herself poor and vulnerable as she wandered a human town. It was when she found herself pinned to the wall by the man whose pocket she tried to pick that an idea struck her- perhaps she didn't have to be the same kind of warrior- perhaps she could fight from the shadows instead.

She found the same man who'd caught her the next day and demanded to be trained as a rogue- she was young, selfish and feisty, refusing to take no for an answer. For some reason, he agreed.

x FANGSHIV

Seilu was young for an elf, still in her teens- however, she showed much promise as a rogue. She wasn't just some other thief looking to learn a thing or two about stealth, or a mercenary who thought they were an assassin. She wasn't entirely sure what she was, and neither was I- but she was definitely something.

An adolescent elf is still several times more agile and swift than a human- the only advantage I had over her when we first met was years of experience. She was clumsy, a fact made clear by her failure in picking my pockets. I had her backed against a wall and a knife to her throat before she knew what hit her. Something in her eyes, though... she had a stubborn defiance in those blue eyes I'd never seen before. I released her and sent her on her way, but it wasn't a day later that she'd sought me out and demanded I train her. I had never trained anyone before, but for some reason, I agreed.

It took a while for both of us to gain our bearings around each other- rogues aren't especially social as a rule. I had to get used to being a tutor and she had to get used to being a pupil.

Days turned into months, and the next thing I knew, it had been three years and she beat me in every sparring match we had. She had recently had a birthday and was slowly turning into a beautiful woman- maybe I was prejudiced, because as time passed, I had fallen irrevocably and hopelessly in love with her. I was stupid. She would live for centuries; I would be lucky to last another fifty years. It was because of this that I never told her.

Despite her outgrowing my training, we continued to travel together. Time flew. I felt age creeping up on me as I neared my fortieth year, especially while in the presence of someone who was so long-lived. Not a single wrinkle appeared on her face. Without looking in a mirror, I knew I was getting the beginnings of crows' feet around my eyes. I felt aches and pains in my bones when I woke up on particularly damp mornings that I had never worried about before.

I was frail.

When I was cornered by a basilisk matriarch deep in an iron mine, trying to retrieve the foreman's gear for him, I was helpless. I tried to avoid her petrifying gaze, but as I looked away I could feel my limbs growing heavier, stiffer...

A scream so full of fury and passion like I'd never heard before sounded when Seilu exploded from the shadows, her blades raised high. Before the basilisk could even glimpse its attacker, the elf had plunged her dagger into the creature's side and begun to hack furiously at her with her sword. The matriarch roared with anger, whirling around and knocking the sword away as she bit into Seilu's leg. 

The Quel'dorei screamed again, but it wasn't just in pain. Drawing a smaller knife normally used for throwing out of her boot, she buried it into the basilisk's eye- so agonizing was the wound, that the massive reptile released Seilu- one of her fangs breaking off into the high elf's leg as she did so- and turned, making an attempt to flee. My Seilu wouldn't have any of that. She tore the fang out of her leg and leaped onto the basilisk's neck, then stabbed it into the very top of her skull...

My consciousness was dwindling, as was my sight, but I felt warm hands- wet with blood- cupping my face. Soft hair brushing my forehead as the woman I wished I could live to love leaned over me, calling my name and pleading me to come back. "I love you," was the last thing I could say before the petrification reached my lungs and chest, depriving me of the ability to speak or even breathe.

"I love you, Ian. I'll never forget you. I promise."