Nathanos Blightcaller stumbled into the small home he had built over the years. A fire already burned in the hearth. He stripped off a black leather coat and set aside his bow. He unslung his quiver and meticulously went through his arrow supply. Under his coat, he wore a sturdy long sleeved button up tunic, a dark grey color. His pants were the same dark grey, nearly charcoal but just a few shades too light. His clothes beneath his coat were slick with sweat after a long day of tracking, hunting, and running. He was weary, cold, and tired. He undid the top few buttons of his shirt, and his bare chest was pale in undeath, but still well toned and covered in hair. His long, dark hair swept across his pale face as he sat by the fire and tugged off well worn, dark boots.
“We cannot keep doing this,” Nathanos spoke into the small home. “She will find out, and she will punish us both for it. She does not understand love or romance any longer. She does not remember how to feel, or embrace any longer.” His words were heated from anger, short and clipped like tiny arrowheads meant to pierce the audience. He burned from past memories of unrequited love and spurn from her.
On the bed, in the shadows further into the home, a large figure rose. The dull thud of hooved footfalls resounded through the home, and large furred hands reached out to stroke through Nathanos’ hair. The hands caressed the brooding man’s face, lingering on his chin. They stroked his beard, gently, softly, much softer than the large hands had any right to be.
The deep voice sounded out, “Nathanos, I cannot deny my feelings for you, even if you serve Sylvanas and have killed so many. You were in a fog, consumed by her powers, enslaved by the val’kyr serving the Banshee. You are not irredeemable. I must convince you of that, my love.” Baine sat next to the ranger, embracing him in a hug and pulling the man’s head into his chest, comforting Nathanos and reassuring him that the love they shared was intense.
Nathanos returned the embrace, hugging the tauren around the waist. “I do not want to risk you like this, you are in danger when you visit. You have to lead your people.” He squeezed Baine tightly, his words said go, but his grip said stay.
“Nathanos, your people need a leader as well. You could stand up, defy her, and lead them rightfully and truthfully. You could be the guiding hand they need, navigating this existence as a ranger in the woods.” Baine smiled, his face gently placed against the man’s neck.
“You are such a romantic, always using such prose-filled words…” Nathanos sighed happily. “I care for you very much, if anything were to happen…” He shivered and shuddered at the thought. He hoped against all hope that Baine would never be hurt again.
“I can take care of myself, hon. I always have before. I will continue to do so. Join me. Please.” Baine’s voice was pleading, but sounded practiced, weary. Not the first time he had asked the ranger to leave with him.
Nathanos shook his head, “I cannot yet. We have tonight, and many other nights to see each other in the future, but I cannot leave yet.” Nathanos kissed the hands of Baine, and held them up. “Please stay tonight, stay with me for as long as we can.”
Baine sighed, “I could never leave you, Nathanos. My love.”