The grit mixed with the sweat on the back of her neck. Its mixture made for unwelcome mud, and the weight, however marginal, was just enough to tip the scales from capability to defeat. She couldn’t stand another responsibility right now, not even carrying a grain of dust on her shoulders. Her sisters were unaware of how their demands were taxing her spirit. Luperci needed mounds of truegold, a ‘deal of a lifetime’ to make weapons to sell for profit. Not a single one of Mattty’s sources could or would make truegold for her at reasonable prices. Gods, Lupe was mercurial and mercenary sometimes. Everyone wanted something, everyone wanted a cut. Zep recently wrote her requesting more gold for her expensive enchanting training and tailoring. Matty tried not to roll her eyes thinking, “Ah, yes, the little princess needs a new flying carpet; last month’s model isn’t good enough for her now…”Matty moved mountains for those girls. And normally, she did so with love and patience. But neither of her two younger sisters thought to ask what she might need or want. If she asked for something in return, they dodged and made their excuses. “Can’t right now, Mat…will try another day!” She really didn’t mind, but–was feeling broke, and broken.
Yesterday while aiding a sweet little druid cub obtain a black drake, fire ravaged her defenseless healing armor. Of all the elements, aggressive fire never became her friend. There would always be distrust. Water, air, and earth: these she understood, and even loved. Fire: fire got out of control too quickly, fire was indiscriminate, and fire scarred. A cooking fire, fire in a hearth, a campfire, and a candle or two, were the only welcome flames. Fire was everywhere these days, in these times. She looked suspiciously at her cooking fire; poor little embers were actually afraid of her.
She respected earth most of all. Earth lived: if it ever rolled, rocked or quaked it was usually because fire was antagonizing and mocking deep below. Then earth would show its true power, shaking up land, trees, and creatures, like an angry giant rolling over in a nightmarish sleep. But earth was good, too. The landslide enchants on her weapons served her diligently. Sometimes earth was stubborn, and could not be reasoned with; however, she was usually right, so no argument necessary. Time was on earth’s side.
For peace, she sought water. She knew of a place in Stranglethorn where there were waterfalls and pools that poured in privacy and solitude. Too many other pools had lurking trolls in the bushes, but here, no one found these sanctuaries yet. The water poured down in torrents of warmth, with intermittent currents of cooler water. Unlike the wooden and mortar structures, water was home, a comforting place of peace. Her water-breathing spell made it possible for her to survive. The sounds underwater, other-worldly, blocked out the noise pollution, allowing her to think, and then more importantly: not think. Just be.
But air: this is where intelligence spikes and resolve is tested. Invisible air, the very essence of faith. Little human priest, in a dungeon, thought she would be funny if she pulled players with Leaps of Faith. Matty never said a word, for she was sure that the human did not understand the sacredness of this spell. It was not to be used in jest. She kept her irritation to herself, making a silent promise that when her friend returned, they would do two things: stay close, and then break a few hearts around Stormwind. He helped her with her sisters, with her responsibilities, and their friendship of fair trade and help–she sorely missed this. More than she could express. She was so tired of others disregard or disrespect, saying her accent was too thick, or she was wrong, off, diagonal or cross. She understood that his nature was of air, the wind. She had faith in his return, or if not his return, then his friendship, unseen, but there. Like faith.