Every now an then I have to spring Illume out of the glyph shop and drag her around the countryside to remind her what it looks like. I don’t mind this, I consider this a service to her and the people around her. She still doesn’t seem to appreciate it. Like that’s ever stopped me.
On this occasion we were tromping around the ruins in Shadowmoon Valley, just for old times’ sake. Since it was a special occasion, I let all the demons out to play around. To you and me, it’s a burned out wilderness burning with Fel energies. To them, it’s Disneyland1.
We were sitting around the campfire, enjoying a few moments of relative quiet, when Illume broke out laughing. Looking over my shoulder, I saw why. My imp, Fuzzbutt2, was running by wielding a whip and cackling manically. After a moment, he was followed by my succubus, Bronwyn3, waving her fist in the air and cursing in a language few on Azeroth or Draenor have ever heard without bursting into flames. I’d forgotten how much Fuzzbutt loved to torment her.
I let out a heavy sigh and Illume looked concerned.
“Something wrong, Flora?”
Illume didn’t speak to me for a month.