Chapter Text
Nominally, Astragosa served as a diplomat for her dragonflight, working to maintain relations with the Kirin Tor - and, quietly, the Violet Eye, and any other organisations of note in Dalaran.
Not that today it looked like that, from all the good she’d been able to do.
This war with the Legion is spinning out of control, she’d been told. Argus appears in the sky. Their forces harass us. And now we have signs of something going on out there. Some kind of magical assault against all of Azeroth. It should have brought us all to the flame. Instead its assault is blunted. We don’t know why. Let the mages know. We need to understand this attack. Her instructions that morning had been clear, and it had seemed easy enough.
She had made her way from her elegant accommodations accorded her station - Dalaran meant never running out of room for towers, or two-floor apartments with views to die for - and through the busy streets of the floating, cosmopolitan town. In her mortal guise - a blood elf, with light blue hair - she drew no more attention than any other did, only the form-fitting dress, fit for a fancy ball, and her elaborate jewellery - a circlet, earring and ear piercing, and a bracelet that twined around her lower arm - perhaps drawing eyes more than usual as she entered the Violet Citadel, and introduced herself to the clerk receiving visitors.
He knew her, of course, and swiftly had her escorted to a more private room, where she could wait more comfortably for Archmage Modera, the member of the Kirin Tor she usually interacted with as part and parcel of her duties.
She had waited, longer than she really should have, long enough for it to be a diplomatic incident were others involved, but she respected Modera, and believed she had her respect in turn, and so it was as the sun was setting that Modera arrived.
Apologies had been made, and she had made her case to the Archmage, but her reaction was not what had been hoped for.
“Astragosa,” she said with a weary sigh. “I appreciate your concerns, and I would personally agree we should investigate this. But speaking for the Kirin Tor, we’re simply drawn too thin on the ground. The war with the Legion has us strained for everything we can give right now and I doubt we can spare resources for this investigation. Whatever the attack is, it’s clearly being blunted; isn’t that enough? That’s likely to be the official response when I report this.”
Astragosa had paused, considering, as befit a diplomat. “The Blue Dragonflight will be disappointed. You will not object to my following up independently? We will still need to understand this, and the Dragonflight takes a somewhat longer view.”
Modera had smiled. “I’d expect nothing less. Feel free to ask for any assistance from individual mages, of course - but official aid will, I suspect, be too long in coming. I am sorry I cannot assist more than this.”
“As am I. I hope we will not come to regret not understanding this threat in time.”
Modera had taken off her metaphorical official hat as Astragosa left, to mention she’d be having a drink at the Legerdemain Lounge that evening with a smile. Astragosa had nodded, then left the Violet Citadel, only an hour of light remaining on what passed for the horizon here.
It seemed that if anyone was going to discover anything about this, it would have to be herself. But first, she had an appointment.