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On a hill in the highlands of eastern Kalimdor, there is a grove of trees whose leaves blossom blood-red all the year long. Nestled in their roots and shaded by their mighty branches is the clutch of the Aspect of the red dragonflight, Alexstrasza the Life-binder, Dragonqueen. She reaches out to caress her eggs with a slim hand modeled on the elves who have their kingdoms to the west. They will hatch soon, she knows.
dragon!revan in azeroth
"You may, if you wish. I tend to the grounds and watch so that nothing disturbs them, and remember all those who come here."
Snuggle!! Dahlia now has a little whelp curled around her shoulders, humming contently.
"What does it mean to be mortal?" she asks, next.
She hums thoughtfully. Internally, she's unconvinced, but there's no reason to argue. Instead she can just offer the elf snuggles.
Pat pat.
"When is Seriss due?" asks Alexstrasza.
"By noon today, my queen," Dahlia says, glancing up at the sun, about halfway through its climb. "Rielstrasz and Lyastrasza are accompanying him. Vorastrasza should be here soon as well."
"What's the meeting for?" she asks, curiously, realizing that she doesn't actually know this answer already. "To pay respects or are there other reasons too?"
"Though dragons do not age and die as mortals, we may, if we choose, return ourselves to the earth."
"Oh." She considers this. It doesn't really make sense for someone to choose to do that, but she is very young and doesn't know very much about the world yet, so she's maybe missing something. "But it's fine if I never do that?"
"Okay!" She snuggles Dahlia. "Then I'll wish Seriss a good goodbye. I'm glad I'll get to meet him before he's gone."
Alexstrasza and Dahlia move inside the tree, where there is a homey little nook of living arrangements. Dahlia offers Alexstrasza a cup of tea, which she accepts. Ranaestrasza can try a little bowl too, if she wants.
Oooooo. New thing! Yes she does want! She will even try to have something resembling table manners, she is aware that whelps are considered impulsive and somewhat impolite (if adorable), and she wants to be the best whelp ever. Which means trying to be polite! Even when it's hard and kind of silly!
The bowl she is given is rather sturdy, so breaking it shouldn't be a concern. She should probably not try to drink from the shoulder, though.
Oh. Yes. That would be bad. And probably also messy. Dahlia gets a little goodbye snuggle, then she flaps off to land neatly next to her mother at the table (sitting on it instead of sitting at it) and carefully begins sipping tea from the bowl. She is actually very polite. ... For a whelp, anyway.
Truly, she is the epitome of etiquette. The tea itself is hot, and certainly has a flavor. Definitely not plain water, this tea.
Eh. It's okay? She doesn't love it, she doesn't hate it. It's fun to sit at the table and drink it politely, though, so she keeps doing that even though she's ambivalent about the tea itself.
Her companions sit at the table and sip their own tea, discussing matters at the Shrine and its upkeep and the state of the world. Dahlia has recently had a letter from a cousin in Suramar; it seems the Grand Magistrix has renewed the fashion for walking in bare feet as the trolls do, eschewing slippers and shoes and prompting a quiet panic among the cobblers.
Neat! She listens with fascination, and asks occasional insightful questions such as 'What is Suramar' (followed by 'What is a city?') and 'What are shoes.'
A city is a place where a lot of mortals live in close proximity to each other, with a lot of buildings. Suramar is one such elf city, noted as one of the centers of magical learning.
Shoes are articles of clothing worn on the feet to protect them from the ground; like other articles of clothing, they also serve a decorative purpose.