---
“That doesn’t look very sanitary.”
Wrothia stopped digging through the remains of a Quivering Filth, sending a very (pardon the pun) dirty look over her shoulder. “I’m in a Filth Pit, Priest, what did you expect?”
Seeming to consider this for a long moment, Miach finally shrugged. “I expected filth, not…” She made an almost vague motion to the location where Wrothia had sunk into the pit up to her knees. “This.”
The Priest was one to talk, standing at the edges of the pit, safe from any flying debris. But then, even when Human Miach had been a bit more sanitarily minded than most, being Forsaken hadn’t changed that much. Rolling her eyes, Wrothia turned front and began to dig for her loot again. “You were the one who wanted to do this.”
“I beg your pardon!” A few Saurok turned to look at the Priest, but quickly turned away again, likely when she had made Holy magic flare around her. She might have been a dainty little girl in a dress, but she was a powerful one. “I suggested we do something together, as opposed to separate, because we hadn’t seen each other very much of late. This-” She must have gestured again, and been upset, because the area around Wrothia flared with the light of her Holy magic for a blinding moment- “Is most decidedly NOT what I had in mind!”
Holding back a snicker, because the Priest was just so ‘proper’, Wrothia nodded dutifully. “Of course, I’m sure you just wanted us to drink some tea and maybe eat some cakes.”
A long moment of silence, then a sullen, “You’re being mean to me again, Wroth.”
Uh-oh. Miach was the one who had decided ‘Wroth’ was too male a name to address her as, but since she preferred last names to first ones, Wrothia had been deemed a decent compromise, if she dropped the extra letters it meant Wrothia was in trouble. Finally finding the Flith incrusted loot, Wrothia brushed it off hurriedly, stood, and turned. Miach would never accept a statement said facing away as truth, she was all for eye contact. “Sorry.”
“Yes, well…” Clearly feeling better with the apology, her friend, one of her only ones, sighed and cast Levitation on her, raising her from the mass that had affixed to her legs. “I suppose you can’t help yourself, you are a Death Knight, after all.”
Moving to join the Priest at the edge of the Pit, Wrothia made a face when the Levitation spell ended and her boots hit the ground with a decidedly unhealthy noise. “So glad you noticed.”
Miach opened her mouth to say something and then stopped, staring at what Wrothia had gotten. “What in the Light’s name is that?”
Looking down at it, Wrothia frowned. It was odd, wasn’t it? A bun container, or something similar to one, like the Pandas all seemed to insist on keeping around. But why would there be one here? Had some poor fool been out for a picnic and been taken by the Saurok? But it- it was moving. Shrugging, Wrothia opened the container, despite Miach’s gasp, and shoved a gauntlet covered hand inside. Something ‘squished’ under her grasp, and she pulled her hand back out, wondering how steep her repair bill was going to be to get all this filth out of her plate-
Staring at what was affixed to her fingers, she frowned at it. “What the Rune are you?”
The glob turned, though Wrothia couldn’t be sure exactly how she knew that’s what it did, and then opened its eyes. It made an odd ‘glip-glop’ sort of noise.
“Oh, no.” Miach looked at it and backed away. “That’s one of those Filth pets.” At Wrothia’s blank look, she explained, “I’ve heard they bond to whoever takes them out of the container they were in.”
Wrothia looked back at the odd thing, and noticed that it did seem quite taken with her, moving around her fingers in an almost ‘cuddling’ fashion. “Oh… great.”
“That is just unsanitary.”
The blob turned to look at Miach expectantly.
It took a moment, but then Wrothia had to wheeze a laugh. “It thinks its name is Unsanitary.”
Accordingly, the blob turned to look at Wrothia with another soft, ‘glib-glop’.
Wrothia nearly dropped it, bending over to wheeze a guffaw.
Miach, of course, was not nearly as amused. “Well, I suppose now you’ll have to keep it.”
That took the laughter right out of the Death Knight. “Keep it?” She hadn’t even considered keeping it. “Why would I keep it?”
The blob and Miach both looked at her with similarly aghast expressions. “Because you named it, it’s bonded with you, Wrothia… it might even think you’re its mother, if its kind has mothers.” At another blank look from her friend, the Priest sighed. “You have to keep it now, Wrothia.”
Shrugging, she tucked to little piece of filth into her pack, no skin off her back to keep it, as long as it didn’t need to go for walks or anything. Peering into the container, she wrinkled her nose and tossed it over her shoulder, back into the Filth Pit.
Miach sighed at her. “That’s littering.”
“It was half empty, anyway.”
Opening her mouth, likely to insist that its contents didn’t change the littering aspect, she closed it again, considering it. They’d started to walk away, Miach a reasonable distance from the stench Wrothia’s armor was currently giving off and Wrothia herself leaving a gooey trail, when Miach finally added, “Are you sure it wasn’t half full?”
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Wrothia (Undead Blood DK) and Miach (Undead Holy Priest) are both my characters, on the same account, so needless to say, this didn't actually happen. But I had it playing out in my head when I was deciding what to name my Unsanitary little friend.
