Tae'loren offered a tender smile to Elariel as they parted ways in the dining hall. Her hand felt heavy, though, and her fingers felt as though they wanted to cling to his cheek. He could feel a slight tremor as his face pulled away from her finger tips, allowing the smooth firmness of her fingernails to graze gently against his skin. There was need in Elariel, his lover, not need for intimacy, but need for understanding and for assurance. All the hunter could do was smile to her, a soft contrasting exposure of his mouth and teeth to his deep blue skin and glowing golden eyes. He conveyed his confidence to Elariel in their plan. It would work. He would make it work no matter what it took.<br/><br/>The two hunters strode side by side down the halls leading out into the stronghold's courtyard, dwarves, gnomes, and humans alike looking upon them as though they were spirits, not because they moved with silence and purpose, but because they moved with an abnormal and eerie familiarity. The two had spent the least amount of time in Shadowmoon Valley, but it was the most intense of their entire lives. Eight years was all, but in those eight years Tae'loren and Aeo'leth had adopted the valley as their home, had been trained by the valley, had loved the valley. They fought for the valley as though it were Darnassus. They walked with respect over the scarred soil, they cleaned up after their skirmishes and forays, not out of obligation or necessity, but out of responsibility. They and the valley came to know each other out of their mutual goal: to remove Illidan and throw down the Black Temple. The hunters had obviously failed, but their efforts did not go unnoticed, which was evident in how silently they were able to move now, as though removed from the stronghold and once more bound to the land of the valley.<br/><br/>Once in the courtyard they removed their boots, flexing their bare feet in the scarred soil, feeling it sift and crunch under their soles and between their toes. The hunters did not speak, but smiled to one another, inhaling deeply. They were like children returned home to their parents' home. They sat across from each other, slowly drawing out their blades and laying them down on the soil. They took some between their fingers and sprinkled the soil over their blades, their ears honing in on each sound, every grain that rapped and tapped against the metal. Several minutes passed as those nearby watched the hunters' behavior with reverence. Each and every species and culture had unique ways to prepare for something that would change their life forever, and the onlookers understood this was one of those moments for the hunters.<br/><br/>As though placed in a hypnotic state, those observing the hunters didn't realize the grains of soil had stopped falling until they saw the two elves engaged with each other. Their current position had Tae'loren crouching, tips of his glaives pointed up at Aeo'leth's underarms, and with Aeo'leth's glaive blades directed down onto Tae'loren's shoulders. In a rush the two elven hunters moved again, blades ringing melodically, as though magnetized they struck gently in precise locations, to the next position with Tae'loren's blade tips poised for Aeo'leth's throat and Aeo'leth's blades slipping up, tips pointed in a severing position at Tae'loren's elbows. Their practiced movements mesmerized and calmed those observing, for this wasn't typical combat sparring, this was a meditative, spiritual practice designed to discipline ones' self control, to bring ones' weapon within an inch of their opponent without drawing blood. Time stood still for the two hunters as they danced together, blades singing softly and soothingly, their feet hardly disturbing the soil below them.<br/><br/>Finally the two stopped and sat across from each other again. They had stripped off their chest armor, toned chests rising and falling gently, inhaling and exhaling deeply, eyes closed. Tae'loren could feel Elariel's tension, so he reached out to her. He wasn't sure if she'd feel his aura or not, but he reassured her that they would be okay. They would rescue her colleagues and their families. They would return to Shadowmoon Valley.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>