Family

Overlooking Orgrimmar’s main trade area, summer heat rose up to the loft, the air stifling. Thankfully, Annaliese didn’t need such things as air anymore. The heat didn’t bother her the way it seemed to when she was alive, either. Undeath had become comfortable for the Medic’s wife more and more now. The small pain of disconnection from her former life seemed less a heavy burden and instead an annoying buzz (like Charlette). Leaning over the balcony, she found an amusing sight. An orc was driving his Mechanohog clear over the Auction House hut, and with another rip of the heavy engine, he landed upon the dirty path in front of the building. Despite this sudden obvious show-off, he had little in the way of an audience. It was surprising, really, the way everyone below seemed to take the rider as just another standard of Orgrimmar life. Anna smirked as he roared the engine once more, and sped off.

There was a time when wolves were the standard…

Another day followed through to another change in society, another change in her life. Her eyes caught the ornate blue rune that glowed softly along the dining room hall, emitting a cooling breeze. Her love had made it, always worrying, always trying to make things more comfortable with her stay at the Loft. Yet, since having been released from her short contract with Cartier & Company’s Fine Jewelry shop in Dalaran, Anna’s days opened up much more, and she found most of her time spent in Orgrimmar by default. The Ledgermain remained a nice break away from home on occasion, and her husband’s flourishing friendship with the dancing Chef Lecoste was charming. And the Medic bringing home a fresh batch of new recipes wasn’t a bad deal out of it either. While eating such food was more than a luxury than a need these days, Anna knew the cooking made him happy, and her eating it made him happier still.

Ah, the Medic. He’d filled up with confidence since attaining a new mount, his undead dragon a masterpiece he seemed endlessly proud of. Whether he had a hand in its creation, she couldn’t quite tell, though it wouldn’t have surprised her—he still trifled in necromancy when he could. The magic was a part of him, literally and figuratively, and expecting him to not marvel at the creation of the undead was like asking a shaman not to revere his spirits.

“We’re home!” came the voice of her love now. She turned to see the spectacle of his arrival and smiled, relieved to know he was home once again. Decked in dark blue robes, a large carton filled his hands, most likely a pre-made dinner brought from the Ledgermain. His kitten Snow came to greet him immediately--and then hissed at his feet as a black cat popped it’s head over his shoulder, black as shadow. Pinchy scuttled around the Medic, clicking his pincers, eager to help. The crawdad always remained dependable in the small chaos of dinnertime, and the curious creature had become a staple of these eager meetings. Another face peeked behind the Medic as he entered, the newest addition to the strange family.

“Hi Mother!” the elflette called out with a grin that reminded Anna of bright sunshine, the way the girl warmed her over. The elf was perhaps a girl of ten human years, with springy red hair so light, it bordered on a dark pink. It had been a hard decision to adopt her, really, a Sin’dorei child cared for by Forsaken? It wasn’t unheard of, yet the uncertainty had gnawed at her, until the Medic himself opted to turn in the adoption papers himself the past spring. Since then, days without Laelah had been inconceivable—the occasional strange look couldn’t dissuade her from being around the child.

“Oooh, whats for dessert?” Laelah asked with a dramatic flair as she poked and prodded her “father”. She was met with weak laughs, and at last with a shoo of fingers.

“You shall find out when you finish your dinner!” the Medic proclaimed, his grin shot back at her. Annaliese laughed at the exchange, watching as the girl flitted off to the bath to do as she was told.

“You should follow too, ‘girl’…” he now said, turning to his wife. The light of his eyes was soft, playful as he grabbed at her. “Or I shall have to put you in the basin myself!”

“Shh! You’re horrid!” Anna twittered with laughter, which came to her more and more these days. The playful grabs turned into a full-fledged embrace before she let him go to be the “chef” for the night. Lecoste was certainly influencing him. She watched him gather a pan and some oil, humming a little tune as he prepared to cook. How quaint their life had become, how simple, even in the war torn world they lived in, the days of an untraditional family becoming very…traditional.

It was everything Annaliese had dreamed of.