Ambrosine fought her nature constantly.
…in a sense, that was her nature, as well. Her inborn heart of a healer and protector warred with the bloodthirst that had been imposed on her.
…sometimes, like on the battlefield of Lordaeron that day…
…she let the monster rule.
“If you are suicidally reckless I will murder you,” Jamethera cornered her as they convened for battle.
“I think Jaffar would have first dibs on that,” Ambrosine said dryly. “And I could say the same for you. But shouldn’t you be yelling at Mina more than me?”
“Elune’s tits!” The Kaldorei dragged her hands down her cheeks. “That fucking woman, I swear. Look, if Jander can’t keep her off the field, no one can. There’s no point in me even trying. I did my yelling but now I’m done.”
“Was she going to studiously avoid me until she gave birth and then be like SURPRISE, A BABY or what?”
“Honestly? Yeah, she might have done that.”
Ambrosine rolled her eyes skyward. “I know she thinks she’s being considerate, but I’ve accepted my fate, such as it is. I’ll just try to sneak more orphans under my roof when Jaffar isn’t looking, that’s all. Surely it’s about time to ‘mentor’ some more ‘students’.”
“How are Josiah and Helene, anyway?”
“Doing well. Josiah is content to take over the day to day work at the distillery for me, which is great because I have to deal with this,” and she gestured towards the forces that were still gathering. “Helene won’t get the adventuring bug out of her ass so she’s still neck deep in studying to be a mage, but I hope she won’t be done until well after all this bullshit is handled.”
“We’d better get to killing, then.”
Ambrosine rolled her shoulders back and adjusted one of her pauldrons. “I’m furious and despairing. I can’t even imagine how you feel right now.” Her failure to save more during the evacuation of Teldrassil haunted her. That she’d been nearly dragged to safety herself didn’t help.
Jamethera turned towards her Devilsaur and busied herself giving his eyeridge a scratch. “I’m going to kill all of them,” she muttered under her breath.
Ambrosine glanced down at her runeblades. They sang their discordant songs of hunger and death and for once, she didn’t shy away from it. “We’ll sure try.”
Ice crackled where she walked. Some of it was a pinkish hue, tainted by the blood that dripped from her blades.
She missed Mina’s companionship in battle–but well, the druid was wisely well back of the action. Instead she found herself falling in step with a demon hunter she did not know. It was good to hunt alongside one who shared her viciousness.
(Ambrosine had learned to not fight alongside her fellow Death Knights in times like these. Their tactics could be too reckless for her tender, still living flesh.)
“Oh no you don’t,” she said softly to an orc who was trying to use the confusion of the retreat, post Blight-drop, to flee. She snatched him back to her with a casual flick of her wrist.
“No. No, please.” He said in halting Common. “I don’t-“
“Don’t what? Condone this? Oh it’s too late for that.”
He turned to run and she let him–at least, a stride or so. Then she hamstrung him, drinking in his heartbroken wail.
Blight drifted their way.
“No.” Even if she killed him, Sylvanas would likely haul him up to fight again anyway. The Blight was a far worse death than being run through by a sword, and that was just fine by her. “Where was your mercy when Teldrassil burned? You didn’t have to come here.”
Ambrosine shook her head and cleared out before she got caught in it, too.
(And this is why she had stepped somewhat away from the Templar forces. She had pretenses to keep up, like being a decent human being, still.)
“Are you always so ruthless?”
“Mm?” Ambrosine stood, nearly panting with exertion. She was glad the problem of crossing yet another Blight covered area had given her a moment to breathe. “Oh, no. Only when I can’t sleep because the screams of burning children echo in my head.”
The demon hunter took a deep, shuddering breath. “I have worse things in my head, but only just.”
“Ambrosine,” she said after a moment.
“I’d say well met, but…” Ambrosine gestured across the battlefield.
“Meeting over the blood of enemies is perfectly well to me.” The demon hunter cocked her head. “Looks like we’ve found a way across. Let’s go before we miss the fun.”
Fun, Ambrosine thought. Well, it wasn’t exactly the wrong word, now was it?
Ambrosine wiped blood off her blades. Their song was muted now, sated by death and suffering.
And she regretted none of it.
But that scared her.
They were back in…well, the camp was in Brill. It wasn’t safe. That wasn’t the point. But it was momentarily quiet, and she should sleep.
(But she couldn’t.)
She dropped her gaze, then went to see if Aunne was around.