Alcime.

[Yva]

Alcime Shadowind watched the men around her, her smile as polished as pearl.

The redheaded human would run a finger over the top of his cards every time he bluffed. His eyes flickered too, like he was afraid the shadows would chastise him for the white lies every gambler told. She figured him a holy man, a priest probably with his miniature physique. Plate wearers always carried some muscle after their service - years of trudging about in thick metal hardened the thighs and shoulders. A paladin was out, then - this man's body hadn't done much in the way of physical labor - so a priest it was, and not one on the current payroll. The threadbare tunic said he was either no longer receiving wages or he was living as a penitent.

Most penitents wouldn't be found in Cantrips and Crows.

"Your go, Horn."

The tauren snorted, which meant he had a hand: two pair at the very least, a straight or flush much more likely. The expelling of air made his nose ring swing, and Alcime itched to loop her finger through it and tug. She didn't want to hurt him, it was just one of those compulsions you couldn't quite explain, like a child seeing a pile of leaves and jumping into it because it's there.

The last, the troll, laid his cards on the table, his smile showing two rows of jagged, yellowing teeth. He stroked his tusks, toying with the ends. It had taken her five pots to catch the tell; on good hands he'd twist his tusk to the left, bad hands he'd twist to the right then the left. Anything in the middle he'd touch his earrings one at a time, from bottom to top and back down again. Sometimes she wanted to tell people to be more conscientious about their play styles, but then she'd start losing she supposed, and she didn't sit at the table to walk away broke.

"Beat dat, Sistah."

This game had been going on for almost two hours, and the tauren was nearly out of gold. Alcime had the lead, but not by a lot. It wouldn't do for her to outplay them so much no one would sit with her. Reputation was everything in poker; if you were a cheat, or you were that good, only the foolish or the very arrogant would share your pots. She didn't care much for fools, and the arrogant irritated her.

Enough, it's getting late and I have places to be.

"Show 'em."

The tauren had two pair, aces over fours. The troll's queens and tens were beat, and he cursed as he swilled his bourbon around his glass. The human showed King high with nothing else, and Alcime . . .

"Full house, jacks over nines, and thankyouverymuch."

She smiled at all of them, taking this one last prize. When she stood, so did they. The tauren even offered her a hand, grumbling "Well played" before rolling to the back of the bar, surprisingly graceful for a lumbering man beast well over seven feet tall.

A druid, then. They can move like liquid. Why do I know that? It must mean something. Remember, damn you.

"Good travels all of you. See you next week."

"Good night, Ears."

She left the sewers with a spring in her step.

*****

Coin jingling in pocket, she flew north, the crisp winds biting her nose and ears. She supposed she wasn't like the others - they were so dedicated to the cause, so intent upon the end of the Dead King that they didn't take time to unwind. Playing a game of cards was beyond most of them, and she wasn't sure if she should feel shame that she maintained this one fanciful thing.

All right, two fanciful things: she liked her games, AND she liked her cooking.

She liked trying to make Him happy, too, but that was different.

He didn't smile much, nor did he eat or sleep or . . . truly do anything other than sit on his mountain and meditate. He'd come down to choreograph near-brilliant attacks on Arthas's forces, endeavors she looked forward to and in fact thrived upon, but as soon as the excursion was over, he'd quietly return to his peace. She'd gone with him a few times, bowed down to that monolithic peak trying to find solace in a higher purpose. Some of his people remained with him for days - zealots genuflecting before a righteous godhead - but she managed to stay a day or two at most before she'd want to return to the dark places of Icecrown.

She'd slip away when that longing came, leaving a box full of sweet buns near him, knowing he'd politely accept the gift but never actually bite into one. She wondered if he did that because he was repenting for his sins and thought himself unworthy of the pleasure of food, or because he found the idea of human activity loathesome, or . . .

Perhaps he'd transcended, he was above them all. Odd to think it, considering the events of years past. He hadn't wanted their love or respect. He'd tried to cast them off numerous times. They should have been willing to go, but in an uncertain world, wearing the runed armor so few understood, he was a leader. He was like them. He gave a purpose in a land swirling with chaos. His great sins were shadowed by the brilliance of his goals, and these people, The Eye, they understood his vision of the future.

The past, though ugly and riddled with sin, no longer mattered, for Alcime especially.

What past? I am a woman with a name and nothing more.

It wasn't his call that brought her back to Icecrown tonight, though, it was something less pleasant. A new talon of scourge troops had changed position, curling around the northern mountains and shifting towards the Argent Strand, intent upon a midnight march. Traps had to be laid, important information needed to be given to important hands, and her job here was to slip from shadow to shadow and get the message through. She was their eyes, she was their ears, and when they needed to put something in plain sight without being seen themselves, she was their girl.

She fumbled with the gnomebox on her belt, switching the postion to off. Her armor was left in a safe nook of cave just south of the human encampment. The two handed sword was abandoned for two smaller blades - just in case she was caught, just in case . . .

There was no room for error.

With a silent prayer to her Father and leader, to the man who'd won her loyalty by giving her purpose when she didn't even know who she was, she began to run.