How Do I Live?

As the Shade of Death clings to me still I find myself reeling in turns. There are moments I feel almost normal, yet others when I am mired in deepest despair. I cannot decide if the Gala was a success or a failure, a victory or a defeat. Rory has been... absent since we returned home, locked in a state of catatonia, a grief so profound that nothing can reach him. He does not eat. He does not speak. Not Tazzi... and certainly not me. Whatever Elizaveta has done to him is so damaging that I do not know that we will ever recover. He does not seek me for comfort, but nor does he pull away when I try to comfort him. He is empty, broken, and it breaks my heart to see him thus.
 
Immediately after the Gala, I left Rory with Tazzi, beseeching her to watch over him. The Shade of Death was so sickening within me that I needed time, I needed space, I had no want to answer a thousand questions about what had happened, what went on, why Rory was mute, where were Artimir and Sorvi -- I wanted none of it, not yet. I had to get myself sorted first, I had to quell the emptiness of my tattered spirit. It was as if all the Light had left me, torn away by terrible claws. I just needed time, time and comfort, distraction -- things that no one would offer me in their need for answers. I found Borador.
 
We had already made arrangements to meet in Pandaria, so it seemed a fitting place to find some peace for myself before the bombardment began back in Kalimdor. I could tell that Dori was burning with questions when he took in my haggard, haunted condition, but when I told him I was not yet ready to answer questions he accepted that and we spoke of it no further. We toured some new locations in the Jade Forest, they were beautiful, awe-inspiring, and unlike anything I had before seen. Life seemed to fill the air there in the Forest to the point that I almost felt like it was seeping into my very soul, filling and repairing those cold, empty places that Death had made. It made me grateful for my life -- but also made me wonder what price had been paid for it.
 
As we walked, our conversation meandered almost as much as the path ahead; we spoke of history and lore, aspirations for the Dragonscale Expedition beyond being an enforcer. In turns we discussed we found attractive or interesting in others, the nature of relationships and what they meant to us. I told him of my tendency to need connection, investment to truly welcome someone into my heart; I told him of my relationship with Rory and Tazzi. He seemed curious as to the nature of it, how it all worked, and I tried to explain it to him as best I could. He seemed to find it odd, but he did not seem offended by it, as some have been.
 
We settled into an easy camaraderie; intelligent conversation, fun and teasing, even occasional flirting -- but even in spite of that, he was ever the perfect gentleman. Dori took me to a little island situated near at least a dozen waterfalls. It was inspiring and helped to bolster my flagging spirits. We made camp there; I caught fish out of the pool, then Dori cooked them up. There was more conversation over dinner, talking about things we might do, or where we might go. I complimented Dori's cooking skills, he clearly missed his calling as a chef. He said he could never work in a standing kitchen, but we mused over the thought of a mobile kitchen -- a chuckwagon, I had once heard a vulpera call his. We discussed the nature of what Dori's mobile kitchen would be. I eventually came up with the idea of hand pies. You can make them savory or sweet, serve them hot or cold; it seemed an ideal thing to market. At first we decided it should be called Goldhand Pies after Dori's surname, but then he said I should get partial credit. So we decided on Silver & Gold Pies -- I think. We went rounds on ideas.
 
All-in-all, it was everything I needed. No questions, comfortable companionship, and things to talk about that had nothing at all to do with everything that's gone on, aside from one very brief mention about Dori's Zandalari friend and priest of Bwonsamdi, but that was all. We went to sleep in the camp that night -- in separate bedrolls, virtuously alone -- and parted ways in the morning after we planned our next adventure in a week's time. Even now I find myself counting the days...
 
☼
 
When I returned home, Tazzi was still with Rory and Rory still was not speaking or even eating. He moves inside or outside of his own volition, tends to his other bodily needs, but there is still no affection or life in him. I went to sit outside for a while where Tazzi eventually joined me. She asked about what happened at the Gala, as I knew she would. As I know all of them will. Not if I am all right, not if Rory is okay because neither of us are, just questions, questions, always with questions. I told Tazzi about my death, what it felt like, what I remembered. She pressed me for more answers, and I gave her what I could through the haze of Death that still lingered.
 
Once all the questions were answered though -- I was sidelined. Told that I am too much of a liability, too much of a risk to be included in anything further. So long as Elizaveta has the ability to see and/or hear through my senses, then I cannot be trusted. I understood in the tactical sense, but that did not make it hurt any less. I died to procure this information and now it was all being taken from me, parsed out to other hands. I felt alienated already. Not only has Elizaveta cut me off from the man that I love, but now I am segregated from my friends as well as they go about the business of chasing down these new leads. Tazzi plans to task Inah to stay with Rory, too, so there is no need for me to be there, either.
 
I will have to find myself something else to do. Perhaps I will take up more Sunwalker patrols, or go and visit the Palehorns at their stronghold in Stonetalon, find the Wolfmane encampment and make myself useful there. I cannot sit here and simply be idle. It would anger me, upset me far too much. I must find other things to focus on. Other things to live for. How do I live after I have met my death?
 
One hoofstep at a time.