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I Think It's Some Sort of Tea...

She thought you were gonna kill yourself. You do realize that, yeah?

He preened his feathers irritably, the closest Cambor could get to scratching in his bird shape, and then flitted up from the deck to perch on the very tip of the bowsprit. It was breezier there anyway, and he needed the cold from something other than a tankard.

Wandering about that pirate haven, drunk off your arse, singing of all things... then you're talking about being tired and all this and that, what's she supposed to think? And this from a girl with plenty of her own problems! You know she wasn't there for you, and you saw the pity on her face when she found you. Sorya had it too, watching the storm, listening to you whine, talking about blocked chi. Rhis...well, she probably didn't. At least there's that. Nothing ruins that girl's fun...

A feather drifted down to settle on the ocean surface, and he watched it until it disappeared into the ship's wake. A moment later, the worgen's furry legs dangled from his perch, and he sighed. The sky wasn't clear enough to see the stars well, and he'd stopped taking comfort from the moon years ago.

Fine, and what of it? Not like you had a chance with any of 'em anyway, is it, old boy? Kisses and taunts and maybe a romp here and there. Now they're all busy giggling at you and what a sleaze you are. No amount of grooming or enunciation's gonna change that. The dog's good for a rough n' tumble, sure, but it's the pink guy they want to be with. You remember that guy. Don't you?


When was the last time he came out long enough to look in a mirror? ... The last time I came out long enough to look in a mirror?


A deckhand jabbing him in the side with a boathook brought him back to the moment, only to realize he'd been sitting out there for several hours since the last time he'd paid any attention. The sun was up. When did that happen? No matter. With a huff, he clambered back down to hop onto the deck, and headed below to gather his belongings. And Crackers, of course. His newest pet hadn't exactly been popular on board, but he'd been adamant that the little silithid be kept with his things, rather than with the cargo. Crackers had only escaped his cage once, after all, and there had been hardly any damage to the deck.

It was hard to take in the sheer magnitude of Pandaria right when he'd stepped off the ship, with so many bodies rushing around the port and so many merchants vying for even a moment of someone, anyone's time, but once he'd gotten away from the business and the smells and the noise, he'd had a moment to breathe. He was awestruck by the sheer scale of the architecture in the shrines, and amused that such a short people would build such gargantuan structures. Even so... everything considered beauty, right down to the tools. If it could be made colorful, it was. Bland didn't appear to be a word in the Pandaren vocabulary. It seemed like even the grass was greener than anything he'd found in the Eastern Kingdoms, and certainly a far cry from anything he'd grown up with back in Gilneas.

You just got here. Why are you suddenly thinking of Gilneas? You haven't thought about Gilneas since... dunno, but it's been ages. Probably longer than the last time you saw your own face. ... Maybe this is what Da was talking about. You spend more and more time looking back, your head gets stuck the wrong way 'round, and somebody else'll have to turn it back again.

He sighed again, rubbing at his good eye with a thumb, then shifted his bag on his shoulder and started walking. The direction truly didn't matter; a good wander wasn't about the getting there, so much as the going, and the weather was lovely enough to simply hoof it for the time being. It was wonderful to finally move about without wearing full armor again, too; the business in Northrend had just about left him ready to smelt it or burn it entirely out of spite. "Well... let's get about finding a meal, eh Crackers?"

Which reminds me. Just what the bloody hell is chi, anyway?