A clock chimed on the mantle of her hearth in unison with the grandfather further down the corridor. The sounds used to startle her, particularly when she was so lost in her thoughts, but they had since become little more than background noise. Comforting chimes heralding every quarter and hour to remind her that she was home and not waist deep in a backwards part of the world.
A chilly breeze came through the window, carrying the scent of freshly broken earth and rain. Not all of the tilling had been finished for the garden, but at least the roses had been planted beneath the windows.
It was time to start living like a proper Gilnean, after all, since Tirisfal would likely never be reclaimed and dead things crawled over the Caldwell property. Until Andorhal was safe again, Tempest Reach was as close as she could get to Lordaeron, and she had worked very hard to make it her home.
Esreiella snapped the window shut and locked it. Her fingers, normally immaculately manicured, had been splattered with glue and paint from her busy day. Not even half of what she wanted to accomplish had been finished, but she had time.
The clock chimed with eight bells.
Grey Watch would be bringing the fight to those that dared to harm Azeroth, and they would do it without her.
Every armored piece of clothing and her staff were set on a lovely teak wood stand upstairs in a room next to the library. At the very least, it was a room she intended to make her library after much consideration and planning on a guest room. One guest room would do, she decided, knowing full well that visitors would be few and far between. Certainly there would be no family to fill the house, especially at her age. Those aspirations had died out, but she peacefully put those to rest.
There would be no war for her. Someone else could have to fight in her place, and there were plenty of people signing up every day to do just that. Of course, any nameless soldier wouldn�t have her same knowledge or specialty, but it had been nearly twenty years. From the Scourge to Outland to Dragons and eventually wars that were so convoluted that �sometime� factored into the equation. Each one she marched off for, bringing the full devastation of her power for the Alliance so that she may live!
But what was the point?
Esreiella had spent her years fighting to live in a better day with a better future, but every glorious horizon was just another battle and another war. Another crisis that plunged the world into turmoil with the tenuous hope that the world might be saved and she could return to a normal life.
It never happened, and finally, she admitted that she was exhausted. Why keep fighting to live if one never lives?
The clock chimed for half past the ninth hour.
Sweat and grime had been washed away and fresh vegetables were set out on the counter. Candle and arcane light filled the kitchen and a small nook, shining a light on a long list that sat beside her place setting. It was everything she had been meaning to do for the past several years, and to know she was finally going to do it, brought a smile to her face as she set the table for two.
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