Back from the Dead?

[Kadi]

To the casual observer strolling through the streets of Silvermoon City, nothing was amiss between the two blood elves sitting on the park bench, having a quiet conversation. The truth, however, is that something is wrong. Very wrong.

Someone has come back from the dead. Hearing the news, coming from my twin sister, I was in shock. 'How could this be?' I asked myself, as I looked into Vara's eyes, which had more urgency in them than I've seen in a very long time.

"Ana," she says to me, her blonde hair framing her thin face, the hem of her flowing dark warlock robes fluttering in the slight breeze, "I swear that's what the supplier said, and he has never lied to me before. He was in Undercity last week, and swears that the woman he saw had our sister's face, but she looked... different. He didn't tell me about it, though, until he saw her again as he was passing through Taren Mill. He's certain it's her."

"Sumehra's dead, Vara." I tell her, though my hand starts to nervously comb through the ends of my long, dark hair, the plate armor I have become accustomed to wearing suddenly starting to feel very tight and constraining. "I saw her fall myself during the invasion of Silvermoon. He said she was wearing plate armor, and she's never worn plate a day in her life. She found it uncomfortable, and 'unpretty', and since she would never resort to violence anyway, at least not by her own hand, it seems very out of character for her. Even during the invasion, she refused to wear it, and that's partly what cost her her life. It can't be her. It doesn't make sense." I let out a long sigh, shaking her head at my twin, but non-identical sister, Kadivara. "I know that her body wasn't found, even if our parents' were, but I know what I saw, Vara. She's dead."

"Maybe she's not anymore, Ana. You've seen the death knights that have suddenly started appearing in our cities, even Silvermoon. Even the orc Warchief has said that they are no longer scourge." The blonde elf snorts a little at that before she continues, "But would that make it possible that Sumehra is one of them now? It would explain the plate armor, and the change in her appearance. They say that the death knights are kinda like the Forsaken only more evil and with fewer rotting bits."

"You mean undead." I state, then sigh again, letting the hand that was fussing with my hair fall to my lap. "I need to find this woman, Vara, and see if its her. Its too dangerous for you."

"Ana, don't give me that." Kadivara says, rolling her eyes. "Just because I've decided to put my warlock training on hold to go to war with the alliance doesn't mean I'm incompetent. You're so puffed up now, miss 'I'm so powerful because I'm a blood knight'. You have gone soft, sister. You were always the nicest one in the family, but even you used to have a healthy streak of ruthlessness like the rest of us. Now, I can barely see it. You just throw your hands in the air and heal people now, and you do very little to help us fight the Alliance. Remember their betrayal, Sister? I do."

"That's enough, Vara." I say in stern tones, though probably a bit more sternly than I should have. She does have a point in a way, even if she's twisting it like a knife in my back. "I will go speak to her, if I can find her. If it really IS her, why hasn't she come here looking for us? I think that's an important question, and if she really IS a death knight, even a 'weak' one, she could kill you with one blow, Sister. I don't trust them, and I don't want to lose you as well."

Kadivara pouts a little, but doesn't argue any further. "Very well, Sister. Just don't let your ego get in the way."

"I won't, Vara. And thank you for telling me. Right now, though, I need to go think about this. It's a lot to take in, and I want to do some planning." I stand up to leave, and my sister's eyes follow me as I do so.

"Take care, Sister. And I'm glad to see that you're starting to get back into the family business, even if you are still softer than my feather pillow in dealing with buyers." The blonde elf says, wishing me what is, by her standards, a rather fond farewell.

"We will speak soon, Vara." I say as I turn to leave. She does not reply as I start to walk away from the park bench and down the streets of the city that I still call home.

[Rhoach]

((neat!))