Xavius and Illidan and WRITING

Muted sunlight trickled through one of the many windows of the palace now called Zin-Azshiri, the light unremarkable to the eyes of the one there to view it, and the window nondescript save for the height.  The semi-notable sunrise and the vista beyond it were not what drew the viewer; he gave it precious little attention.  The bulk of his concentration was divided between three glowing mana wyrmlings and an open book.

His head was tilted back to observe the reddish wyrm as it twisted luxuriously through the sunbeams, glinting faintly.  The bluer wyrm darted about almost frantically, chasing dust motes, rainbows, and flickers.  The third, a lush green, had coiled atop the night elf's head, its snout resting on the spot that would once have been the midpoint between his horns.  The night elf sighed and rubbed at the left spot, then rolled his eyes when the door quietly clicked shut, the sound followed by cloth shoes attempting to be stealthy on the smooth tiles.

There was a short pause once the footsteps were a few feet from him, before the owner of the shoes sighed and dragged a chair over to the window.  "Good.  I'd hate to hit you," the night elf informed his guest, who chuckled and attempted to gain the attention of the red wyrmling.  It steadfastly ignored him and his offer of a treat, which the blue wyrmling promptly claimed in its stead.  The night elf's guest smiled and stroked the creature once it wrapped tightly around his forearm to devour the mana collected in his palm.  "You're going to make them fat if you keep feeding them like that."

"They move around enough that they can work it off," his guest shrugged, unconcerned.  The wyrmling made a soft purring noise and rubbed its snout over his palm, probing for any last bits of mana.  It finally gave a disappointed snort and unwound itself to investigate his hair.  The night elf smiled, and after a moment, so did his guest.  "So what is that book, Xavius?  Other than a text on magical principles," he inquired.

"A book of the type you once ripped the pages out of and fed to fires," the Lord Counselor answered shortly; had he still been a satyr, his tail would have been twitching in amusement or annoyance.  His guest leaned back, about to protest.  "And for all that you are often seen around books, Illidan, I have never once seen you actually read," he continued, turning a page.

Illidan's mouth worked for a few moments, but he finally blew out a breath and made a defeated gesture.  "I admit it, I like the attention."

"It's always about the attention with you."

"But yes, every once in a while, I do read.  Stories and legends, usually."

"So nothing that could potentially be useful."

"But also nothing that isn't interesting.  And you'd be surprised at the usefulness, I think," Illidan responded blithely, leaning his chair back on its rearmost legs to watch the blue wyrm dart after a flicker of light on the ceiling.  The green wyrm grumbled lazily at him for it, while the red one continued to ignore him and to twist still higher into the sunbeams.  "You're up late," he commented after a few moments, referencing the rising sun.

"I don't usually get disturbed at this hour, because most people have gone to bed.  So why are you still awake?" Xavius returned the question.

Illidan paused for a while.  Not quite long enough for Xavius to comment on his slowness, but long enough to be watched out of the corner of his eye.  "I didn't feel like sleeping, is all."

"Is that the only reason or the safe reason?"

"You've known me this long and you still need to ask that question?"

"So you genuinely believe that giving a 'safe' answer will keep you out of trouble?"

"It's done so often enough that I consider it a decent option."

"So you won't use a different method until that one is disproven?"

Illidan sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, unable to answer.  He expected Xavius to be smirking at him, but when he looked up, Xavius was only looking at him in something like curiosity.  Unable to bear the purple-eyed scrutiny, he fumbled for an answer.  "Most of the time…I guess the truth is that I wouldn't.  Maybe all the time.  Because it's nice to use established methods.  And it's really only a twenty percent failure rate, which is good enough for engineers."

"But you're not an engineer.  You're an enchanter and a tailor, both of which are precision professions that demand a zero percent failure rate," Xavius countered.  He waited a moment for Illidan to reply, but continued when he did not.  "And even if you were an engineer, you would spend much of your time tinkering with the available inventions to get rid of that twenty percent failure rate.  Yet you claim you aren't a perfectionist."

"I don't claim that I am, which is not quite the same thing," Illidan grumbled sulkily, letting the chair fall back to all fours.  The green wyrm scolded the noise with a cheep.  "And I'm not that horrible a perfectionist.  I don't color code my books or anything."

"You did color code the inks in the main library."

"But I had a substantial reason for doing so."

"I've heard it.  Several times," Xavius cut him off.  "So why did you come in?" he asked before Illidan could continue despite the warning.

"What do you mean?"

"If you only didn't feel like sleeping, you could have irritated anything else in the palace or wandered off the grounds to entertain yourself on your own terms."

"You're the most interesting thing in the palace and always have been.  Why should I settle for less?"

"If you made a habit of annoying me every time you didn't want to sleep, I might believe that."  Xavius had a knowing look in his eyes.  "Unfortunately, your targets are widespread.  You've been likened to lightning."

Illidan folded his arms and let out a grumpy huff.  The green wyrm clicked at him and lifted from Xavius' head to coil loosely around his neck as though a living necklace.  "I also ran out of cloth an hour ago and wanted some company while I got more," he replied after a long silence interrupted by a dong from one of the many magical creations in the room; his restored eyes flicked towards the sound for a moment.

"What is it that you see when you look at that particular model?  It is one of your favorites to watch, when not angling for favors, after all."

"That one?  At first it was just that I'd never seen that particular shade of blue-purple before.  Then I noticed that the blending isn't perfect; the blue and purple sort of splinter off into each other, and the edges wherever they meet are jagged.  And the aura shifts.  I timed it once and found out that every time it makes that sound, the aura has made a complete circle.  Oh, and five minutes after it makes the sound, the colors switch hemispheres.  It takes about ten minutes to complete."

"And do you know what it is or does?"

"Other than Not An Illidan Toy?  No, but I'd like it if you told me."

"Oh, but then I'd ruin the surprise," Xavius smirked.  He hadn't turned a page in his book for some time.  Illidan only looked at him expectantly and hopefully.  "…and you really look like a dog when you do that."  At that, Illidan's expression shifted to one of overdramatic hurt.  His golden eyes watered and he even sniffled a little.  Xavius could finally stand to hold it in no longer.

All three mana wyrms made startled noises and took shelter behind the nearest inanimate object; Xavius Shadowdreamer—Lord Counselor to the Glorious Queen Azshara, first of the satyr, and the Nightmare Lord—had begun to laugh.