Dalaran was bustling with activity with all the people that had been in such a rush to get here, now many of them were desperate to make ends meet. The streets were loud, garbage filled and smelt faintly of poop. With all the pets and mounts that were running through the streets it was amazing the place wasn't up to the neck in fetuses. Tej'lie wrinkled her nose at the thought of such things touching her, her stomach turned in distaste, she had never seen any piles out for long. The troll stepped out into the street finding a couple of peons walking behind a cart each with a shovel in hand. Despite their unsavory job the kaldorei and orc were cheerful. That always amazed her, when fractions that had been taught to hate were able to set their differences aside and work together.

She had convinced herself long ago she didn't have such a warm heart. Though, she didn't have an overwhelming hate for the Alliance. She just carried no love for them either, she kept herself indifferent. At times it was a full time job, especially with her shop she was forced her to deal with every one of all shapes, colors and fractions. She frowned, correcting herself, she used to deal when the franchise was booming. Now, she rarely made enough to pay for food.

The reason why she had left her home and was currently in Dalaran, Tej'lie finished her delivery of goods to the local tailor and given the promised payment. She dropped the coins in her pouch on her way out. Glad they were too busy to bend her ears with all the endless stories they seem to have. She wandered to a few shops and nearly getting run over by a warlock's fiery steed and a huge kodo, she pegged it time to leave. She opened a side pocket on her travel bag and freed a smaller stone from it. She performed a ritual and she simply vanished.

Shattrah was more appeasing to her senses, the city that had offered hope after the planet had been torn apart during the war with the Burning Legion. She had fallen in love with the circular city the moment she rode into it, there was such a presence here she didn't fully understand. It was warm and welcoming, like a mother's embrace, she couldn't find a reason to leave. Always coming back filled with the same feelings all those years ago when she first stepped foot into place. No other place in all her travels had given her such a sense of belonging. This had spurred her to begin selling her uniquely designed traveling bags at the auction house. This proved to be a very profitable business, enough for her to pay for a small property in the Lower City near the bank.

In the two story building she used the lower half as her shop and the upper half for her living quarters. People use to come from all over just to browse her little shop and buy her designs. Since, the rush to other regions with stronger and bigger bags flooding the market, her designs were not sought after. Even after she lowered the prices to compensate, she was losing more money than was coming in.

Again she was forced to tend to her duty and killed enemies of the Horde and running errands for others too busy to tend to it themselves. To her it was worth all the fuss, this was her place and owned it outright. It was only a matter of time before her next venture will add to the sweetness she had to offer. Enchantments. They were not cheap for anyone and once she was practiced fully in the arts she would have that to offer as well as the garments she crafted.

The troll unlocked the door with a skeleton key and whispered a chant before she shoved it open. The familiar smell of fabric drafted over her, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She felt her body instantly relax, she leaned against the door to release the breath. "Home," she whispered and with a flick of her wrist several candles were lit warming the shop with their glow. Another caused the wood in the hearth to burst into a crackling fire bringing warmth to the chill in the shop.

She was flanked by racks of robes and other clothing, in the windows were a display of traveling bags and other specialized pouches with all sorts of flamboyant patterns. A cushioned chair sat near the hearth, which she hadn't put in until the counter had been shortened. The chair had been visually displeasing if it hadn't been so amazingly comfortable she would not have taken it. She refurbished a cloak to correct the visual problem. Behind what was left of the counter sat her workbench, patterns, threads, needles and shears stuffed here and there. Bolts of fabric poked from the shelves and under the workspace. Against the back wall, a large foot-treadle floor loom was perched. Her pride and joy.

Tej'lie sat her traveling pack on the counter and touched the sturdy frame with affection. She had the loom specially designed for her long legs. Before she was balled up on the floor to weave her fabric. This one she was able to sit comfortably for hours. With another exhale she turned away from the structure and took inventory of the space. The log rack was empty, the delivery of wood brought the day before still needed to be split and stacked. The kettle hissed as it heated with no water, she picked up the iron hook and pulled the swinging arm away from the fire. She didn't need the empty pot burning, she had lost many kettles that way.

Tej'lie put off all the things she should have been doing and sat at the loom, she touched the soft yet strangely durable frostweave. The pattern was simple, deep rich tones that would enhance her own pale blue flesh tone. She wanted to start cutting and sewing soon, she just needed to finish making the bolt first. She toyed with the idea of just heading off to bed and starting fresh in the morning. Putting the need to sleep aside for a little while, at least, she set to weaving.