
Stargrace still can’t quite believe the place is hers.
Tucked into the Horde neighbourhood, her home looks less like a traditional structure and more like it grew there—rounded door, grassy roof, warm lamplight glowing from small, circular windows. A hand-painted sign hangs outside, freshly varnished and a little crooked, depicting a curled cat and the promise of “Coming Soon.” She pretends it’s for ambience. Anyone perceptive might notice the way she smiles at it.
Inside, a narrow hallway welcomes visitors first, its walls lined with framed paintings collected from her travels—markets in Orgrimmar, sunsets in Vol’dun, a misty morning she swears was taken near Halfhill. The floors are still a bit bare, but the place already smells like fresh bread and ground coffee.
The kitchen is cozy and well-loved, stocked with mismatched cookware and just enough counter space to make things work. Nearby, a little coffee corner waits patiently: kettle polished, mugs stacked, shelves ready for beans, teas, and eventually… patrons. There’s still work to do—tables to carry in, chairs to arrange, books to shelve—but the vision is there, clear as day.
Upstairs, tucked away from the bustle-to-be, are Stargrace’s living quarters. Soft light, quiet corners, and just enough space to rest, write, and plan the next chapter—of the café, or of a novel best published under someone else’s name.
It isn’t finished yet. But it’s warm. It’s hers.
And soon, if all goes well, it’ll be full of cats.



