Celesten hated the Alliance. She didn’t know much, but she did know that. She would stroll through Teldrassil and observe the disgusting elves that were interested in no more than playing their sexual games, always dancing and fondling one another. And it was even worse in Goldshire, which seemed to be the cesspool of the alliance and where the air smelt of sex and testosterone. Celesten hated these silly sexual games that all these alliance play.
And now, all of a sudden, there were shivers coursing through her body and all she could think about was the troll who had taken her heart along with her body.
Celesten frowned slightly, scrubbing her black dress that had gotten soiled last night. She sat on the shore outside Auberdine with some soap in hand, her navy hair in disarray. It was late in the evening and not many elves were about. She had spent the daylight hours in Zijil’s and her’s meeting spot. He had had to leave early that morning for some order of business. His boss didn’t seem as though he would understand why Zijil would want to spend more time in Ashenvale, so Celesten persuaded him to leave.
