“WEEEEEESTER!”
A loud singsong voice cut through Wester’s comfy little office ambience like a cold knife. A cold DARK knife – there was something ugly behind its far too cheery tone, and he could feel droplets of sweat forming on his neck despite himself. I’ve heard this voice before.
And indeed he had.
A short sylvari with a shock of spiky hair was looking down at him with an aloof grin.
Bandi.
Oh spirits, he’d forgotten about Bandi.
He hadn’t heard him come in, and before Wester could say a word, the tiny plant was already making himself comfortable: casually leaning over Wester’s desk, propping his elbows onto its surface and carelessly knocking over a few figurines in the process. Wester opened his mouth to protest –
“Wait, no!” Bandi laughed. It was the kind of laugh that was a little too loud, a little too cheerful. “My bad, I mean Stein Steinson, right?”
Wester’s heart plunged deep into the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t heard that name in years. He shouldn’t have heard that name ever again! The cold sweat on his neck began to form into small rivers. Where did Bandi hear that name?! What was he after?! Why was he-?!
And then Wester remembered that night in the Wychmire Swamp, the humid air that clung to his clothes, the smell of mud and grass… and the words Bandi had said so nonchalantly at the time:
Tell me Wester, do you have any secrets?
And suddenly Wester realized exactly what this was about.
“Okay, okay” He said as calmly as he could muster.
Bandi didn’t seem to hear him.
Bless Tora’s smug face