Vanished Rogue

The insistent banging just would not let up. I have to admit I was rather surprised that our local Jehovah's Witnesses were being this persistent so I washed my hands and headed to the front door. It wasn't someone in a suit on the other side however.

"Where in Azeroth have you been!?!?!" Daraia burst through like a storm cloud, arms flailing as she turned on me. "It has been a WEEK, a WEEK!" Her glove clad finger grinding into my chest, she continued. "You left me in Dalaran to fend off herds of star ponies, their obnoxious owners and temper tantrum throwing robots for a WEEK!" Stopping abruptly Daraia stepped back, surveying her now dust covered glove, then looking me up and down in bemusement. "What is that."

"Sweatpants and a denim shirt?" I replied, pushing my filthy baseball cap further back over my tangled hair.

"Sweatpants? Why would you choose to wear pants you KNOW will make you sweat?" Before I can answer she waves dismissively and continues on. "That isn't what I meant anyway. The white and gray stuff all over you...you look like you fell into something."

Looking down I realize what she is talking about. "Oh, that is just cement, plaster and paint. I have been kinda busy this week with my kitchen and bathrooms."

Daraia pulls back swiftly, putting her hands behind her back. "Since when did we join the Defias? I'm a Scribe not a Mason thank you very much! I have no intention of power leveling another trade. It was painful enough the last time!"

Briefly the idea of informing her about Archeology passes through my mind only to be dismissed. She is ticked off enough with me as it is.  "Listen I am just trying to get this taken care of while I can, before my kids are out of school for the summer and underfoot. I should be back to the regularly scheduled program by Children's Week."

"I don't think you realize what you are subjecting me to here... you left me in Dalaran!" Daraia interjects. "I have to listen to TRADE chat all the time and deal with drunken Elves and Draenei who think they belong on top of mailboxes." Arms crossing she continues to glare at me. "Couldn't you at least log on and put me somewhere else? I haven't darkened the door of a dungeon all WEEK!"

By this point I am beginning to realize just how tired I am. That is the problem when you stop doing physical labor you hardly notice your fatigue until your muscles start screaming at you. "Ok Dar, I will do my best to get on more regularly this week but it is going to still be a little bit before I can get back to our routine. Can you accept that?"

Reluctantly she nods. "I'm going to hold you to that. You fail to show up and I will be back here again. I am sure your neighbors would LOVE to know why someone dressed like me is showing up at your door." Pausing briefly she narrows her eyes in contemplation before continuing. "I refuse to go back to Dalaran though, you can find me at the Argent Tournament. At least there I sit back and mock Paletress." With that final threat she touched her tabard clad chest and vanished.