08-30-2025, 10:24 PM
Nora managed a tight, practiced smile as Eliot spoke, attempting to be polite. Her heart was still ticking too fast, but she eased her shoulders a fraction, enough to appear calm. Appearances mattered. Especially among the Atharim.
Not my job to police the brethren.
She didn't believe him. Not entirely. Nobody dropped a line like that without intention. Especially not in the dark, waiting for them to come home. Still, she let herself breathe again, slowly, and moved back toward the kitchen.
The water had already started to boil. She poured it out, her hands moving automatically as she busied herself with something that let her think. The scent of mint and something earthier rose from the steam as she added a second bag, letting it steep longer than necessary.
She brought the mug into the room with both hands, the warmth of it seeping into her palms as she crossed the threshold and approached him. Not too close. Close enough.
“Tea?” she offered, voice low, careful. Not cold. But not soft, either. It was a small gesture of hospitality.
She set the cup down on the nearest table, and finally took a seat herself. Her fingers tapped once, lightly, against her knee before stilling.
“Nobody wants to be policed,” she said quietly, watching the steam curl from the cup. “But if you know something… I’m all ears.”
She didn't flinch and her voice didn’t crack, but the question was there, beneath the surface tension of her tone: What do you know? And what are you going to do about it?
Not my job to police the brethren.
She didn't believe him. Not entirely. Nobody dropped a line like that without intention. Especially not in the dark, waiting for them to come home. Still, she let herself breathe again, slowly, and moved back toward the kitchen.
The water had already started to boil. She poured it out, her hands moving automatically as she busied herself with something that let her think. The scent of mint and something earthier rose from the steam as she added a second bag, letting it steep longer than necessary.
She brought the mug into the room with both hands, the warmth of it seeping into her palms as she crossed the threshold and approached him. Not too close. Close enough.
“Tea?” she offered, voice low, careful. Not cold. But not soft, either. It was a small gesture of hospitality.
She set the cup down on the nearest table, and finally took a seat herself. Her fingers tapped once, lightly, against her knee before stilling.
“Nobody wants to be policed,” she said quietly, watching the steam curl from the cup. “But if you know something… I’m all ears.”
She didn't flinch and her voice didn’t crack, but the question was there, beneath the surface tension of her tone: What do you know? And what are you going to do about it?
![[Image: Shield-removebg-preview.png]](https://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/Shield-removebg-preview.png)