Seol Plumfall

The young elf leaned his head back against the cushions, watching the violet-skinned girl dry her hair. With those fragile wrists and tiny fingers, her small body curving forward, the delicate shapes of her spine and shoulderblades showing through the thin cloth of her undershirt, she was roughly scrubbing her head and horns without a hint of elegance or grace. She lowered the cloth and tossed her wet hair, sneezed, and smeared her nose against her arm; then she blinked as the boy began to laugh at her.

He restrained his chuckling and shook his head, a characteristic awkward smile twisting his lips, and waved apologetically at the glaring girl. "You are cute," he said, truthfully.

( Read more... )

This is a story about a king who had one daughter. This young princess was famous throughout the small kingdom for her gentleness and wisdom, and the farmers and merchants would request her help with their disputes whenever she toured the towns and countryside. The people loved and trusted her judgment, and the king, too, loved her very much.

The eighth decenniversary of the princess's birth approached, and her father wished to host a banquet in her honor. But he found himself in a quandary. He wished to import the finest, rarest luxuries for her – the blushing peaches frosted with moonlight from the northernmost forests of Kalimdor or the fragrant violet berries plucked from the mountains of southern Terokkar. But his was but a small kingdom, and with his limited wealth, he could only furnish the banquet one of these two delicacies. Only the sweetest fruit in the world would do for his peerless daughter, and he did not know whether to trust the bards of Darnassus or those of Shattrath, who both sang paeans to the bounty of their respective homelands.

( And so one day... )