Written based on an idea by Casey [link] wherein I have taken another players character and written based on what I know of RPing with the character. Written with permission from Janderius. Journal can only be called canon at Janderius’ player’s discretion. Thank you.
“Catch you later. Don’t go dying between now and tomorrow.” Janderius flashed his almost trademark grin at the few Templars that were still around before focusing on one of his arcane anchors and beginning his teleportation spell. The edges of his field of view blurred and space twisted before him into a swirl of colors that faded to darkness. Unlike some the rush of physically being tossed and jerked around had long become familiar to the seasoned mage and when he landed at his destination he felt no ill effects.
His brows furrowed, however, as he glanced around the room the anchor was placed in. “Oh son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath. Just down the white concrete stairs where he stood the two-tone red brick streets of Dalaran stared back at him. While normally Jander would simply begin casting again whilst taking better care to focus on the correct anchor point, perhaps a stroll around the block would give him an excuse to pick up some wildflowers from Aerith for Mina too. He smiled at that.
He took the stairs at a slow pace; the day had been long, and he wondered if he was starting to get old. Janderius turned leaving Runeweaver Square and stepped out facing Dalaran’s commerce exchange. It wasn’t as full and active as it had been weeks ago, a boon for those shopping, but also it also signaled the change in times. He passed the enchanters on his right, and the multitude of steps that lead up to the Violet Citadel. His path consciously avoiding the Horde side of the city. In truth he hadn’t been back to Dalaran since the event, at least not for anything more than summons from the Kirin Tor or to petition for the portal anchors Templars were using at their current camp.
These thoughts flicked through his mind, known, but he didn’t focus on them. He walked his way around to Greyfang Enclave and paused by the fruit vendor. He pick up a small container of blueberries from Applebough, a treat for himself while he was here. Now he had only to walk around to the flower vendor, then he could head on home- well, no, it wasn’t his home. A slight rise of emotions filled his chest momentarily, loss, sorrow, but mostly hatred and anger, emotions he’d felt for the Horde years ago. Feelings that had been taught and cultivated by his previous order, The Phantom Legion. Over the last couple weeks he couldn’t help but wonder now if there hadn’t been some ring of truth to their rhetoric, at least it occurred to him once or twice, when it might be said he was feeling the most vulnerable.
When he pulled himself out of his thoughts he was standing in front of the flower cart, Aerith smiling at him. He raised his brows, not realizing how far his feet had taken him in that momentary lapse of thought, then pulled the winning smile across his face once more. “Mrs. Primrose, haven’t seen you in a while.” He nodded to her as she returned the favor and let his gaze drop to the sparse bundles of flowers, let people in the city called for a smaller selection of goods after all. “I’ll take two wild flowers today.” With a flourish of his hand he called the coins to him and offered them to her. Aerith was no stranger to mages though so his fanciful tricks only bought a grin and a thanks from her.
“I almost didn’t recognize you.”
The voice came from behind him over his left shoulder. As he took the two bouquets of wildflowers in his left arm-one for Mina, and one for Ambrosine-he glanced over his shoulder to see if they were talking to him. He hadn’t recognized the voice. A blood elf with short loose curled strawberry blond hair greeted him, though stood at a respectable distance. It appears she was coming down the stairs from the Runeweaver corner. Janderius looked at her a moment trying to place the familiar face until it dawned on him, his brows raised. “Hey, long time.” His words fell a little flat between knowing what to say and the current climate of the world.
“You look really tired.” She didn’t look any different.
“No, no, I’m doing fine. Is your… shop still doing well?” She owned an herb shop he recalled, it was how he’d run into her more years ago than he could rightfully put a count on.
“It is.” He heard her answer, and then watched as her brow creased with concern as she spoke again. “Your wear lines are showing.”
The silence was loud between them as Jander parsed what he thought she meant. He started to wave off her concern but didn’t notice her approach till she was already in front of him, her speed was surprising or maybe he really was tired. The back of her fingers brushed against the side of his cheek, a little scratchy this time, he needed to shave. He felt a cool jolt of energy rush through him, magic. His right arm snapped up and he grabbed her wrist twisting it slightly. It hadn’t been arcane, it wasn’t his flavor, but he didn’t know what it was and she was still a blood elf, they were at war right now, even if they were in Dalaran.
He noticed she seemed surprised at his reaction, and heard her breath catch for a moment. He loosened the grip he had on her hand and took a half step back.
“You remember my healing runes? I perfected them.” Jander didn’t respond, he didn’t cast holy magic but it didn’t normally feel like that to him, she continued speaking before he could question it. “You’re torn up, from the inside out. I don’t just mean emotionally. You really need to get some sleep.Trust me trickster, you’re running on empty.”
He nodded and muttered an apology, “Sorry, I better get going then.” He offered a nod to her and turned to walk back to Greyfang Enclave. Normally he would have simply teleported from there on the street, but now he wanted to put some distance between him and that woman.
Finally home he smiled wide as he handed Ambrosine one of the bundles of flowers. “Pretend they’re from Jaff, okay? Thought they’d look nice sitting on your fermenting barrels, or maybe you could use them for something, you know?” He chuckled at her reaction to that and made his way over to see Mina. She was sleeping and he didn’t have the heart to wake her. He laid the flowers on the table by their temporary bed and saw himself to the bathroom.
Shutting the door, he released a heavy sigh and walked over to the mirror, making a mental note to remind himself to shave. In the moments he took looking in the mirror, he realized she was right–he did look tired. He grinned wide pushing it all the way to his eyes, the little crow’s feet growing, and then he stopped smiling again…yeah tired. Not just in looks either, now that he stopped to think about it he felt worn out all the way through. He had been going ever since the loss of his home. He was pushing and pushing and working hard for this. He’d gone out of his way not to put himself in danger, after all he had a brand new future to protect soon. But because of that he’d been working extra hard in these roles; setting up the portal network for Templars, wards, silent alarms, other protective spell weaves. He hadn’t realised how drained he’d made himself.
He didn’t have time to stop, if he couldn’t be on the front line he had to support those that were willing to be. He looked in the mirror again. He was starting to look like his father. Maybe he was getting old.
He leaned over and splashed his face, then lathered up before taking up his razor and cleaning the stubble from his cheeks. He rinsed his face again and looked one side then the other. ‘There, that looks much better’ he thought with a nod, a cheshire grin returning as he looked at his reflection. Much better. He just needed a shave, maybe a little rest he had spent the whole day repairing an arcane anomaly that had appeared near the Templar’s camp. He was fine.
“Jander?” His evaluation stopped short as he heard Mina in the other room. There wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait.