Wiskerville had pondered much on recent events. His deployment to Outland in order to assist Executor Dreadshot, alongside a few less-than savory companions, gave much to think on.
Whilst not feeling he ever got to truly operate at maximum capacity, there were brief glimmers of thrill and enjoyment scattered throughout the fortnight. His showdown with the Talon Priest, both when donning the visage of the Raven God, Anzu – and his actual fight, were both memorable and fond highlights. Whilst he never felt he was at any personal risk of losing, there was always the moment of ecstacy when trading blows with a powerful opponent.
He had of course, also joked to Simetra several times he might turncoat and ally with the Necromancer that rivalled her, just to make things more interesting. He found the Necromancer had a similar enough ambition to his own, but not the power nor foresight to bring it to pass. Ultimately, there was only room for one person to be the Herald of Azeroth’s Rebirth – himself.
During that deployment he had also enjoyed a brief rekindling with his allies of the former Sun Hawks, now Thalassian Skyguard. His student I’len Lavellan had come a considerable way – and he had managed to gain a new student because of Lavellan – Tal’reia Sunglay. A Lightwielder who was beginning to understand the Light would not solve any true problem, only cover up the damage.
Finally, there was one more memory he could remember. At the end, as everyone received a portal or other means of transportation back to their respective headquarters, he had stayed. There was a Loyalist that was being questioned, one he could set about the path that would bring her the fulfilment she so desperately craved from the movement. He had tended her wounds, and sent her back home – back to Lordaeron, to start fresh. She was bound to an Ethereal Contract he had written up, that she would have no choice but to endure and seek out her purpose.
Asides from that… Nothing. The experience of this battlefront had only left him with the realisation that his allies were only that; allies. Not friends, not companions who cared. They valued him for his strength and weight in a battle and little more. Even the ones in the Hand of Agony, perhaps the closest of his allies present at the campaign, were distrustful and riddled with malice and contempt. He needn’t speak to any of them to know that. It was palpable enough in the atmosphere.
He had to go home, to the Estate. To where the journey began, to see where it would lead next. But for now, he needed a break.
What he saw on his arrival baffled his mind and then some, for it was nothing he desired, nor wished to believe could have happened. Waiting for him at the door was… her.
His wife.
She had a pained expression on her face. She always tried to hide those, long even before they were married – but there was no mistaking it here. She had been risen. Despite his every effort to ensure she wouldn’t be. That her rest would’ve been a final one. The one person he had fought so tirelessly to protect the memory of, was no longer a memory. Even in death, in one of hundreds of his vessels, he could still feel the emotional weight of his heart sinking.
He couldn’t even muster up the words to ask. He averted his gaze, before stepping up to her. Each step slow, heavy – with purpose and tension. He stopped before her, below the step at the front door. All he could think to do was lean his forehead against her shoulder. He reached his arms up and yanked off the spaulders, carelessly letting them clatter on the pavestones beneath. He just stood there, hanging his head on her and leaning against her and the frame. Eventually, he looked up to see her. He had done quite well in his preservation efforts, to say she’d been dead for well over a century. But he couldn’t even allow himself a second to admire his work. He put his arms around his wife, craning his neck and placing his forehead to hers.
With naught but a whisper, he told her the only thing he could.
“I’m… So sorry, that you have to… see this. What we’ve… become. The monster that I am.”
She had been reading up since she was resurrected in the catacombs, having had around a month to herself since being revived. She had not really left the estate, save for taking a quick walk in the surrounding area, so she could properly locate themselves on the map – and get used to the new scenery. Any information she recalled was long since outdated.
Wiskerville had quite a large collection of tomes, journals and notes. There was a room that was practically just documents to pour through. Without need for sleep or rest, she had consumed the information that was readily available to her. She had managed to practically digest an entire bookshelf detailing the histories from their untimely demise approximately a hundred-and-twenty years ago, leading up to the declaration of war between the Alliance and Horde at Arathi. Though some details and questions still evaded her, she had a relatively acceptable grasp on the situation and had mostly come to terms with her condition.
She spent days with Wiskerville trying to understand why she had came back, what was occurring in his study beneath the house, what he had become and more. He had answered everything as best he could, but often seemed hesistant to do so, as if he were making some kind of mistake in doing so. He was like this always. So hesistant to share information, so riddled with this anxiety. But he had never stopped being the romantic man she once knew him as. Even if he looked like he were made out of marble, didn’t have a pulse, and had become something far beyond Human or Undead.
She didn’t mind. She felt safe with him. Like all those years ago. She shot a glance to one of the shelving units in the lounge, and smiled fondly at what she saw. A framed portrait of their wedding day.
“I looked so breathtaking there.” She thought to herself in a smug manner.
He did all he could to catch her up on the Brotherhood as well, and how he had spent his Unlife. What he truly was now, and that only a fraction of who he once was remained.
“That’s fine, Theodore. I’d rather have a fraction of you than go back to that nothingness – where I had none of you at all.” She had said, before embracing him. She fetched herself a kiss on his cheek. The sensation was nothing like it once was to them, but they were still Husband and Wife. This wasn’t going to stop her.
He smiled then, for the first time since their reunion. A reunion which he had caused through some accident. His previous return to the Estate had brought back the Souls of his family and friends to tend the gardens. He did not anticipate that hers was so longing for him that it had subverted his control and gone into the catacombs – and into her body. It was little wonder he did not notice anything was wrong – there was nobody breaking the wards in place.
Still, he had regaled her with as much information as he could. Even she was now content that she had been caught up enough, but had feared much for both him and herself. He wouldn’t let any harm befall her. He needed somewhere she could be safe, that he could protect her. His own selfish yearning for conflict still dictated that he found some degree of action, no matter how insignificant it might be – but such was the duality of man.
“A man yearns for peace, whilst craving for combat. Only mankind could breed such hypocrisy.” He had read it some time ago, but it rang true again in his mind.
Though, an idea did strike him. Tomorrow, they would go to the Highlands. He would speak to Sunglay, and see if her new contingent would take them. Her task would not be so demanding, and as her new tutor he could still have leverage enough to prioritise the wellbeing of Jesalyn.
For now, he needed to speak to her. There was a burden he needed to relieve from his shoulders. He knew she had noticed.
He just hoped he could vocalise his thoughts adequately.
“Starlight, we need to speak. There’s… something I need to explain to you.”
“Alright, Teddy. If you wish. You’ve been so gloomy. You’re not like this normally, you know.” She offered with a musical, mocking tone. She sat down beside him, placing her hands on his in his lap, and turning her head to see his. “Tell me.”
“Initially I didn’t want you to… come back. You probably read as much, or figured it out. I didn’t want you to see me like this and have your memories of me tarnished over the mockery I’ve become. But I didn’t want you to be like this – in some unperfected form of undeath, a shell of yourself. To see yourself as anything less than… perfect.
“This world has changed me, since I came back two decades ago. This world is a joke, a vicious punchline by the Titans. I didn’t want you to see how the world had fallen – You were always the one who could stop and admire even the smallest parts of nature for hours on end… Now look around us. The forest view we once loved is abandoned, left to nothingness after the Scourge happened here. After all the strife and pain.
“My goal is to bring about peace. I didn’t mind tearing myself apart and sacrificing everything I once was, what I wanted to be – if it means restoring the world to something that you would have loved. Even if it were without me – I would have wanted you to be at peace with this world again – or not at all, if I couldn’t achieve it.
“But… peace is not achievable in this World. Not anymore. True peace can never be achieved. This world changed me, Jesalyn. The very concept of love is foreign to me. I knew once how it felt, and can try to understand it now, but I will never be able to regain the feelings I once had, or be able to replicate them in the way you can – no matter how diluted it may be from its roots.
“I just… Didn’t want you to see me fail. I failed you at the end of one lifetime. I found out what… what happened to you, after I died. That could’ve all been prevented. For that, I still carry that burden and blame with me. That guilt. All you have ever deserved from me; or anyone, is compassion. But in the end, I couldn’t even ensure you that much.
“I’m sorry I’ve let you down time and again.”
After that he just went silent, staring out into nothingness. He just leant to his side, his head resting on her shoulder and looking out. He could feel her arms around him. He heard laughter – unmistakable laughter, charged with emotion.
“You didn’t let me down, Theodore. You never have. You tried to change the entire world for me. I’m so proud of you. But promise me one thing:
“Don’t leave me again. From this point, we’re a team. Together.”
WiskervilleOfficial 
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