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“You’re going where?” Darrell Browning put down his pliers and stared at his son.

“Light’s Hope.” Phillip spoke quietly. “It’s in the Plaguelands.”

“I know where Light’s Hope is.” Darrell removed his goggles. “There’s no way you’re going there. What could you possibly be thinking?”

Phillip cringed in spite of himself. For as long as he could remember, what were you thinking had been his father’s ultimate expression of disapproval. Still, he stood his ground. “Light’s Hope is at the forefront of everything priests do or stand for. I think I should see first-hand what I’ll be doing if I become ordained.” He resisted the urge to pick up a random tool, just to have something to fidget with. “And if I don’t get back into the seminary, it could be another path to the priesthood.”

“No.” Darrell pointed at his son, brandishing his index finger like a weapon. “If you don’t get back into the seminary, you’re going to Ironforge. I should have sent you there as soon as you were suspended.” He had never liked the idea of Phillip becoming a priest in any case; engineering was a much more lucrative profession, and far less likely to carry the boy into harm’s way. He had been so astonished at Phillip’s insistence, nearly defiance, of Darrell’s own wishes that he’d allowed his son to enroll in the seminary--and look where it had gotten him, falling in with some kind of disreputable crowd, suspended. It only confirmed Darrell’s conviction that the boy still needed an adult to make these decisions.

“If I don’t get back into seminary, I’ll find another way to be a priest.” Phillip hoped he wasn’t shaking visibly. He had never directly opposed his father like this.

Enough.” Darrell slammed his goggles down onto the workbench with finality. Phillip jumped. “You’re going to Ironforge. End of discussion.” As Phillip started to say something else, he repeated, “End of discussion. While you’re living in my house, you’ll do as I say. Understood?”

“Understood.” Phillip said nothing else as his father marched to the front door, grabbing his coat off a hook and storming out of the house.

With a trembling sigh, he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He spent a long time trying to use the meditation techniques he’d learned in class to calm down, with limited success. Finally he felt collected enough to get to work. He retrieved a large satchel from his wardrobe, packing into it the things he thought he’d need--clothes, toiletries, a small tool kit, his prayer book. He collected all the money he had--gathered over years of odd jobs and gifts from distant relatives. Ironically it was his father who had insisted he save most of it rather than spending it. He had researched room and board prices to make sure it would be enough to support him until seminary started next year.

Phillip waited in his room until very late that night, listening to Darrell return home, move around downstairs for a while, and finally retire to his own bedroom. When he was reasonably sure his father was asleep, he quietly went downstairs, pausing just to leave a brief note on the workbench, in his excruciatingly neat handwriting:

I won’t be living in your house any more, because I can’t do what you want. I’m sorry. Please don’t worry. -Phillip

He slipped silently out of the house and made his way to Old Town, to ask for a room at Hemmensworth’s. If they didn’t have rooms, there were other, less reputable places in his price range he could try.
(( Awww Phillip ;_; ))
  • October 9, 2017
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Phillip Browning
(( You can kind of see why he's so anxious all the time... ))
  • October 9, 2017
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Lunadelle Moonwhisper
(( Kid's at least got his head screwed on right. Elune grant good things happen for him. ))
  • October 15, 2017
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