For breakfast, a mushroom-clouded soupy sky morning was served, with brittle harp-string garnish on the side. Lupe woke to the sound of simpering raindrops. Normally she would find these soothing, but this morning, each weak drip felt irritating. She rolled her head on her shoulders, but tightness held her shoulder blades in a cutting vice. The scratchy Dwarven carpet soothed her sleep no more than it had her sister’s. And her sister: where was she? She had promised assistance and expertise this day, and once again, that temperamental shaman was nowhere to be found. For someone in control of the elements, earth-bound ties where by far her weakest. “She has rocks in her brain,” thought Lupe. “She washes away like the tide, that moody sod.” Eyes closed. Just be still. Think. Think. Her father was right: she was in a dangerous place now. She felt abandoned and immense: her waking dream displayed animated falls, herself slipping down, among the dream-arrows, burning ember stars, and ash. She rummaged in the corners of her heart and soul for some sun, any light. Just because it was raining here didn’t mean there wasn’t sun somewhere else?
Or fire?
And she knew where Matty was.
Jarod Shadowsong, Commander Shadowsong now, had been spotted in Malfurion’s Breach. Gods, she was a stupid, impulsive witch! Luperci could not follow Mataoka into the fire, not for courage, not for gold, and most certainly not for love. Little sisters know the game of catch-up all too well, what the rules say, and how big sisters make up their own, at their convenience. Matty had the earth, the obsidian, and the gold Luperci needed to move forward, and once again, she was hidden somewhere, on the other side of the world, possibly chasing the bravest night elf in all of Azeroth. As if.
Smirking, and then softening, Lupe felt a bit sad for her sister. The dual-wielding axes of fickleness and loyalty must pull her in so many directions at once.
And as well as she knew her sister's heart, she did not know that Matty was not interested in Jarod, but only sought him out to speak with him, and to provide assistance.
Luperci had her own flames to fan. She needed oxygen.
Room to breathe.
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