Passers by...

Salty water.

Jungle.

Trolls.

Raptors.

Murlocs.

Some more jungle.

The good part about Booty Bay is that the goblins are willing to close their eyes to one's business as long as you remember to slip them one coin or two more for their services.

The bad part is that there are so many people there, Horde and Alliance, not to mention the pirates, the rogues and all other sorts of scum - and so many dark streets that a dagger in your back is the least you can fear.

Eireannan pickes the letter up from the mail office and is delighted to see the crumpled piece of paper, carefully wrapped into an envelope and sealed with red wax. The scribbling inside is terrible, but he manages to decipher it in seconds.

" We're safe. There's a bounty on your head in STW. SC spies all around. Watch your back."

It's not necessarily what she writes, but the fact she does write and this means she's still in one piece.

None of those "good men" - he still wonders where she manages to find 'em - has yet abused her to death.

One day he will not get to her in time, and she knows it. But she keeps doing it, with a wicked sense of pleasure, which he finds utterly disturbing.

"There are other ways to remember you're alive", he thinks, as he turns on the spot,just a little, to see Laandra behind, talking intensely to the alchemy vendor. In her arms, she cradles a basket and packages...when did she had the time to pick all of that? Eireannan wonders, trying to figure up how much time he has actually spent going over Daria's short missive.

She looks beautiful, the soft breeze rustling to her hair. Even in her old robe whose colors are fading, torn on the side and hastily sewn back. Gracious despite her frame, which makes her unusually tall as compared to the human and even Sin'dorei girls...almost taller than himself, if she straightens up.

But he would still feel the same, Eireannan thinks, with a stab, if she were crippled or ugly.

Because it's her soul he craves.

What lies deep, beyond the words, beyond the apparent perfection of her features.

Her own life hasn't been that good either. She just found a mean to get over the most ugly part of it.

Which he still tries to figure out yet.

Indeed, there are other ways to remember you're still alive, Eireannan says to himself, his thoughts wandering back to Daria. Pain's just the easiest. Until it looses meaning. Until body and soul alike grow so numb that you cannot feel it anymore.

And what then? he asks , his gaze still following Laandra, as she pays for the crystal vials and proceeds to vigorously stuff them into the basket.