Wednesday, February 1st
Marina is returned. I missed her for awhile but then found myself rather relieved to shut my eyes and enjoy the silence. I didn't realize how much attention was subconsciously focused on listening for the small babe to ensure she didn't get into any trouble. I guess its part of that maternal instinct of constant awareness.
I'm not sure how Luke and Aleks does it. They make it look so easy, but it is obvious they have a system in place. They take turns, and they fill certain roles. They delegate, and they sacrifice. This is why your partner must be your best friend, because a lover alone would not stick around during times of unromantic diaper changing.
I was able to catch a nap before visiting Grobmog at the forge in Orgrimmar. I had commissioned him to design plans for a new set of armour. I have various suits already, but they were always fashioned with particular assaults in mind, such as the cold and infectious swipes of undead in Northrend, the roaring flames in the Firelands, or the deadly shadows of the cultists. Unfortunately, our next enemy isn't as predictable or aligned with a particular element or god.
The Alliance is diverse. I have had armour suited for battling their onslaughts before, but with the latest addition of worgen, the evolution of machinery, and enchanted weaponry, I need something more dependable. He had spent several days measuring every inch of my body and comparing metals to use for this or that. His expression was a mixture of scowls and raised eyebrows as she chewed ideas and wrote them down. I had hoped for something more similar to my mooncloth and silver steel armour, which was crafted with my faith in mind, yet he made it very clear that I had to have something that had functionality in mind.
When he was done with the design, I instantly declined it. The armour didn't look like me. It looked unkind, unwelcoming, and a bit intimidating. It was a dark brown with red markings etching the surface, with a spiked muzzled that looked impenetrable. Actually, the whole armour looked impenetrable... and extremely practical. There was no sign of flesh, no skin left unguarded. The armour was thick because it was layered. The gems on the belt and gloves were enchanted jewels. He also explained that the red designs were not for decoration, but to keep it all together.
The more I stared at this warrior sketched on paper, the more it felt like a reflection. It didn't represent Elune, nor did it even look like a healer. It was purely a warrior of the Horde... and that made me respect the design all the more. It's funny, but we don't always understand why we dress as we do. When your attire changes, it is like you adopt a particular persona or role like one would a suit for work. I was uncomfortable with changing my accustomed appearance, especially after crafting an armour that was tailored with Elune in mind.
When he showed me the shield he wished to accessory the armour, I accepted this change. I wanted to be this person.
Grobmog is unable to craft the armour because his brother, Grot'rak, had given him a rather large order. I had fought with Grot'rak many times before under his wise leadership, but not since the Cataclysm. I need the armour ready soon, so I purchased the materials and plans from Grobmog. I had already sent a request to Kormok to help craft the boots, but I am reluctant to send him anything more. He is busy, and has his own preparations to do. For the other pieces, I will have search for other Blacksmiths in the the Horde, and in the clan.
It is odd to think of, but some seem to speculate that I actually -enjoy- fighting. I don't. I don't like war. I admit that fighting beside my mate was the most wonderful feeling I had felt, but only because we stood brave and devoted. We would win together, or we would die together. That didn't mean that we didn't wish for an un-belligerent future.
We all have a choice to fight or not. There is no right or wrong answer. For me, I choose to fight, so I can sleep at night. I don't want to wake up Alliance.
Mayune Warsinger