Third Person's POV~

Hoh'Ro smiled to herself as she looked out across the city. She was standing on the terrace, the sun setting on the horizon. The sky was a strikingly golden color, with deep redness in the clouds, with dashes of pink and the lightest, softest shades of blue. The warm air ruffled Hoh'Ro's wild orange hair, her violet eyes flickering across the city. The female troll leaned against her long spear, feeling the leather straps under her calloused, padded fingertip and let a smile play on her lips, enjoying her undisturbed quiet. She knew she had to enjoy moments like these because they were incredibly few and far between.

It had been a long time since she had been to Orgimmar. Most of her time was spent on the Broken Isles, protecting those who were unable to protect themselves. She had come in her youth, with her Mother, and her Father. Hoh'Ro blinked and stopped her train of thought as she stumbled upon the trolls that had brought her into this world.

Her sweet, sweet mother . . . A healer, a kind soul that taught Hoh'Ro the values that she still held dear today. Her father . . . oh, her father . . . He was a shadowhunter, much like Vol'jin, though perhaps not as successful as the current Warcheif of the Horde. Hoh'Ro looked down at her feet. While she was a gifted warrior, a powerful fighter . . . she wasn't in as deep in contact with the mystical arts as her parents were, and because of that . . . a rift had formed between Hoh'Ro and her mother and father.

"Ya'd like Orgimma, Mukka, Faddah . . ." she mumbled into the dry air, "dis is a good place, wit good people." Hoh'Ro's expression fell as she let more of her body weight fell against her spear, trying to regain that peaceful moment that she briefly lost to her memories.

"Hmm, this evenin' be a kind one."

Hoh'Ro blinked and glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see none other than Vol'jin standing beside her. His bright red Mowhawk reflecting the light of the setting sun. He looked down at her, his war paint also reflecting the glow of the ending of the day. His nose flinched and twitched, "Eveinin'." he murmurs to her.

Hoh'Ro righted herself, aware that she had been slumping against her spear, she gripped the leather firmly in one hand, "Hello, Warcheif." she whispered, "Just . . . enjoyin' da moment of peace . . ." Her voice was delicate and light, like the dry air of the evening.

Vol'jin nodded subtly as he crossed his arms and glanced down at her, "Hmm. Not many moments like dat anymore." he mumbled softly. He then looked down at her, arching a brow, "Ya evah been to Orgimmar before?" he asked her, trying to make some idle chatter with his childhood friend.

"Funny ya ask," she whispered, "I was just t'inkin' about it." She murmurs, looking out across the city, "I did come 'ere, once. I was liddle wit my mukka and my faddah." she looked up at him, smiling gently.

"Ya parents? Dey were warriors like yo?" Vol'jin asked her softly, looking down at her, arching a brow.

"Not really," she murmurs, "My faddah was a shadowhuntah." she said, and she had to stifle a laugh as Vol'jin's expression turned into a combination of shock, and surprise, and confusion.

" . . . How did I not know dis?" came his voice finally after a beat of silence.

"I said he was a shadowhuntah, nevah said he was a good one," she said as she thumbed over her spear absentmindedly.

Vol'jin blinked down at her, taking a moment to contemplate his next words, "And your mukka?" he finally asked, looking down at her again.

"A skilled healer," she said, not taking her eyes off the horizon. Vol'jin continued to look at her, his expression soft and quiet.

The large troll then shifted and turned so he fully faced the female, "Now, I must know . . . how did a child o' a shadowhuntah n' a healer not have any connections to da Loa an' der magics?"

Hoh'Ro felt his words sink into her skin like icy water, she looked at him with narrowed eyes, "I didn't want history to repeat itself." she turned and walked off, back into the thralls of Orgimmar, leaving Vol'jin in her wake.