Originally Posted by
TrueHorde
The Bitterness broke the scene playing out in his head. He opened his eyes, and there was no tall grass and no cabin, and no Flynn there beside him to hear this tale. His grandmother Pathonia always wore a grotesque amount of rings, jewels glittering on every knuckle, but on her right ring finger she wore only a tied red string. As a boy, Shaw had asked what it meant once; Pathonia had cuffed him across the cheek and he never asked again.
He thought then of that small red thread, saw it unwind, growing longer and longer, until he saw it connect from that scared boy to where he stood now, a line drawn in blood. How different his family's legacy could have been, how different his life could have been, had he been given the freedom to choose for himself. Did Flynn Fairwind feel the same? Doomed to a life of piracy, of theft, because his mother had put him on that path?
Shaw leaned against the cold gold wall, forehead instantly chilled, and wondered about freedom, about how much of it he had felt aboard the Bold Arva, and the man that had been there with him. A man that smelled like whiskey and salt and soap, whose coat had been warm in his hands, as warm as sun-buked stones. He pushed himself away from the wall and retreated to the stone slab, finding only fitful sleep.
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On the fourth day, the skinny little troll in the too-big armor slipped something under the door with his gruel. A long piece of grass, perfect in every way, firm enough to take a slice. Like from a fingernail. Mathias picked it up, confused, studying it from every angle. Not much of a digging implement, not much of a shiv. Then he remembered all the junk he had spilled to the guards at the door, and he smiled at the blade of grass.
It was for his vacation. For the birdcalls. He clasped his hands together over the piece of grass as if he were praying, and maybe he was. If he did have a friend in the world - a real friend and not just an ally or an acquaintance or a source - then he hoped that friend had gone for help. Flynn had it in him. They had make a good team on the Arva, good partners. He hoped that partner hadn't shipwrecked somewhere, that he wasn't drifting dead at the bottom of the sea.
He had a lot of things to say to that man, if and when he got out.
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Auduin smirked, then Flynn Fairwind all but shoved the king out of the way, throwing himself at Mathias and wrapping him in a tight, warm hug. Mathias returned it, a greeting he had not expected, but welcomed all the same. He smelled like whiskey and salt and soap. Familiar. Like a dream remembered long after it occurred, like a word that was on the tip of the tongue for an age, and now captured.
"I sailed like a madman." Flynn pushed his sunburnt cheeks deeper into Shaw's shoulder. He felt slight in Shaw's arms, as if he had lost weight. The crazy pirate had nearly killed himself sailing for help, and all for him. While Shaw had been rotting in that Zandalari cell, mourning his lost chance at peace and rest, Fairwind had gone and rescued that shining little chance. Shaw didn't forget things like that, didn't take them lightly. "Never...never sailed like that before. But I had to get you back."
"And here I am. " Mathias murmured.
"Here you are."
"Flynn..." Show started, clearing his throat, "There's something I'd like to talk to you about. Meet me at the Guilded Rose tonight, will you?" Slowly releasing Flynn from their embrace, Shaw pressed the perfect blade of grass into the pirate's hand. "Don't be late."
Flynn's expression didn't seem to register what to do with the grass, but the flush in his cheeks said all that Shaw needed to know.
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[SPOILERS] Thrall lickin Tyrande's boots -----“I bring you the sincere apology of the Horde.” and promise he'll bring Sylvanas' head to her
Horde leader = Alliance puppet