A Simple Choice
“ -- a great victory for the Horde! For the warchief! FOR SYLVANAS!”
Rook bristled as a cry of victory came from behind, carried on the bellowing of an orc commander. The proclamation was taken up quickly by other orcs, and in no time at all the sentiment was being carried up by like-minded tauren and Forsaken. Swords were pounded into shields and axes were swung in wide arcs overhead, so that all could see that the Horde had indeed carved success and turned the tide of battle. An Alliance incursion had been routed and its forces beaten back to the point where the enemy had wisely sounded a retreat before any more of their forces incurred heavy losses. They were gone as swiftly as they had appeared. Yet despite the war cry from the Horde’s field commander, not all took up arms in celebrating the momentous defense. Some of them - mostly Sin’dorei like Rook - stood in struck silence.
Those closest to him exchanged bitter frowns, nodding to one another in wordless congratulations for having lived through the Alliance’s attack. A pat to the shoulder here and there or whispered thanks to the Sunwell were the only words the sin’dorei uttered, and with good reason. Mixed with the bodies of fallen humans, gnomes and other races loyal to the king were elves - changed, but still horribly familiar. Even now he felt a bitter taste in the back of his throat as he looked down at a face much like his own, save for skin more ashen than pale. Though his attacker’s eyes had long gone dead and rolled back into their skull the glow of the void still shone dimly in them. No matter what they were called now Rook couldn’t shake the sensation that he had killed another blood elf. The still unfamiliar feeling made him drop the enemy’s cuff, and the limp corpse fell to the bloodied earth with a dull thump.
The blood elves began to disperse now. Some even joined the main host’s cheers of victory though this seemed half-hearted at best. Rook did no such thing, preferring silence rather than pretend to take pride in a deed which held none for him. As he stepped carefully over the bodies of friend and foe alike he happened upon a sin’dorei priestess kneeling over something. The shadowdancer approached from behind as not to startle the woman and found her staring down at one of the slain ren’dorei much as he had been moments ago. She looked positively stricken however, unable to snap out of the horrified trance she was swallowed by, and once she realized Rook was behind her the priestess turned to stare up at him with wide eyes. He saw her face - and the fallen one’s - and did a double take at the resemblance, hoping it was simply coincidence and not from relation.
“What have I done,” she whispered in shaky Thalassian up to him. Her fingers knotted into her robes, knuckles white from clenching. Flanked by a matching golden mane down her chin, wide sunlit eyes began to brim with wetness. “Th-these are our people we are killing! Our brethren! These are-”
With a bitter frown Rook reached down, taking her by the arm and hefting her in one sharp motion to her feet. The mender gasped but didn’t struggle. This allowed him to bring her close without having to be too rough. He meant only to tear her attention away from the slain void elf, a female that could have passed for the stricken priestess’ twin at a glance.
“Quiet,” Rook hissed low in their shared tongue. “Don’t let them hear you say it. You feel what you have to feel but right now, these ren’dorei are wearing the colors of the kingdom of the human king! The moment anyone thinks you’re a sympathizer you’ll be put to the sword. Do you understand?”
Though fresh tears began to trickle down her cheeks the blood elven woman bobbed her chin in the slightest of nods, one mirrored by Rook. He sucked in a breath and eased his grip on the woman and watched as she lowered her eyes rather than turn back to face the corpse behind her. With the victory theirs attentions now turned to claiming spoils, raising those who could be and mending wounds. Any moment now they were going to be interrupted and the bodies of the fallen Alliance soldiers dealt with - including their void-addled cousins. Rook worked his jaw and addressed the now silent priestess in a hushed tone, trying to comfort her in the scant seconds they had left alone.
“Say a prayer for them if that’s what you want. There are plenty of Horde soldiers - sin’dorei among them - waiting for a sliver of comfort and healing. Can you do that?”
Again he was spared only a silent nod. She walked away with her head bowed and said nothing. Once she faded from view Rook let out a held breath, one filled with the same shaky uncertainty he’d heard in hers, impossibly heavy. The rogue spared a glance over his shoulder and saw yet another example of what he might have been, but for one simple choice. This consequences of this war were far more complicated than the last and he knew - staring at faces much like his - that no choice was truly simple anymore. Before the end he would have to make his own choice lest he die at the hands of someone he actually cared for or worse, have to take their life himself.
