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I have a home.
I would have gone for a room in Orgrimmar, given the choice on my own. Orgrimmar feels safer to me; the Durotar sun is bright and harsh like the land. I have slept in hammocks, on furs and hides, in my own simple bedroll. I am accustomed to life in Orgrimmar, even the endless dubious looks, sometimes bordering on hostile, that I've gotten for being an elf.
But this new home is in Quel'thalas. I would not have chosen it. It was my brother's doing. It is our home, I should say; he intends on sharing it with me. That is the only reason I would even consent to live in Quel'thalas again until Jovan is dead, and at least it is not Silvermoon. Rather, it is located near the coastline, south of Sunsail Anchorage. Near the Scorched Grove. Within sight of the darker Ghostlands, and I think Ches would have possibly even opted for something there, but he knew I preferred sunnier locations. Even the filtered sunlight and temperate temperatures of non-Ghostlands Quel'thalas are preferable to the unnatural twilight of the Ghostlands.
It is small, of course; two rooms and a loft area. The rooms are the main room and the washroom; the cooking area is part of the main room. I would not call it a kitchen. The loft is for sleeping, and has two small beds beside each other, a lamp-table between, a dresser nearby. There is barely enough room for those plus a couple of stands for our armor and weaponry. Strange to think of it; of the two of us, Ches was always more for luxurious surroundings and endless amenities, but he opted for this small, previously abandoned home at the edges. I suppose it was for my sake rather than his own, but he insists on sharing it. He knows my misgivings about being in this land, but he insists it is the best way for me to overcome that because he says it is not right that I be kept from my home. I suppose he is right, and even as simple as this home is, it is within the land where we grew up. And, perhaps, I can attempt to cultivate a garden of sorts.
I asked Ches if he knew any spellcasters who might put wards on our home for us. He said he would see who he could find who might be trustworthy enough for such.
I have a home, and it has a potted plant on the windowsill.
I would have gone for a room in Orgrimmar, given the choice on my own. Orgrimmar feels safer to me; the Durotar sun is bright and harsh like the land. I have slept in hammocks, on furs and hides, in my own simple bedroll. I am accustomed to life in Orgrimmar, even the endless dubious looks, sometimes bordering on hostile, that I've gotten for being an elf.
But this new home is in Quel'thalas. I would not have chosen it. It was my brother's doing. It is our home, I should say; he intends on sharing it with me. That is the only reason I would even consent to live in Quel'thalas again until Jovan is dead, and at least it is not Silvermoon. Rather, it is located near the coastline, south of Sunsail Anchorage. Near the Scorched Grove. Within sight of the darker Ghostlands, and I think Ches would have possibly even opted for something there, but he knew I preferred sunnier locations. Even the filtered sunlight and temperate temperatures of non-Ghostlands Quel'thalas are preferable to the unnatural twilight of the Ghostlands.
It is small, of course; two rooms and a loft area. The rooms are the main room and the washroom; the cooking area is part of the main room. I would not call it a kitchen. The loft is for sleeping, and has two small beds beside each other, a lamp-table between, a dresser nearby. There is barely enough room for those plus a couple of stands for our armor and weaponry. Strange to think of it; of the two of us, Ches was always more for luxurious surroundings and endless amenities, but he opted for this small, previously abandoned home at the edges. I suppose it was for my sake rather than his own, but he insists on sharing it. He knows my misgivings about being in this land, but he insists it is the best way for me to overcome that because he says it is not right that I be kept from my home. I suppose he is right, and even as simple as this home is, it is within the land where we grew up. And, perhaps, I can attempt to cultivate a garden of sorts.
I asked Ches if he knew any spellcasters who might put wards on our home for us. He said he would see who he could find who might be trustworthy enough for such.
I have a home, and it has a potted plant on the windowsill.
