The Divine Truth

[Tehya]

He was coiled tight, this man; not all together obviously, but Tehya wondered if he had approached them not simply from the sort of idle politeness of strangers passing the seconds before they exited each others lives for good, but because he needed some sort of... affirmation. The human instinct to seek the familiar in times of stress, in times of discomfort. He put up a good enough façade, but she had noticed his hand slip into his pocket moments before the dog had lumbered from the tunnel's shadows. She might have thought nothing of it but for the way he had been staring at the darkness, not so dissimilar from the way she had been staring at the darkness, and the hint of relief in his grin after. It was not her business, of course, and she didn't analyse it too closely; he'd already admitted to being creeped out by the place. It did, however, stir up a little guilt. Though her life might be composed of rigid lines and control, she was not the sort of person to ignore someone in need of help, even if that help were as innocent as a pleasant conversation and the reassurance that dark clouds had silver linings. It was mired within the seriousness she took her oaths and the sense of guardianship and responsibility her grandfather had instilled. He would have been disappointed in her coldness.

A friendly word, an open smile. It did not mean she had to see this man again, nor the other - who also seemed reluctant to be dragged into the banalities of conversation. She frowned at his musings, but only because they cut close to a topic she was pretty sure it was unwise for him to pursue. She could run a list off her fingers on the manner of creatures one might find in such places; their strengths, weaknesses, habits. The best and quickest way to kill those that presented a threat, and with the least civilian inconvenience. Her whole life circled around those details, to the exclusion of anything that one might consider normal. If she thought about it, she couldn't remember the last time she had had an ordinary conversation with someone who didn't understand the complexities of the ouroboros mark, and now she was in the midst of one, she couldn't think of a single appropriately ordinary thing to say. She was as evasive as that dog, slipping from shadow to shadow through meagre patches of light, never pausing long enough to appreciate the warmth. Caught in the figurative sunlight, and with company beyond her atharim brethren, she found she was more keen to leap to the next shadow rather than enjoy the diversion. It was a disturbing realisation.

Even talk of preferred places stirred up little response; she simply went where she was needed, whether it was pleasant to her or not. She'd never been the sort of patriot to miss the soil of her roots, which would probably be a sacrilege to admit to, plus she didn't want to discuss where she was from or why she was here in Moscow. If the train had arrived then it would have been divine timing, but no distant rumblings announced its presence, and Tehya was left ruminating how to remain polite without inviting questions about herself. In the interim she made a murmured noise of agreement. She could just let the conversation peter out naturally - the disinterest on her part wouldn't even need to be feigned - but by now she had convinced herself of the obligation, so she crossed a boundary she wouldn't ordinarily, and offered her name. "Tehya." Her smile was earthy, and lacked the superfluousness of something lightly offered. It also didn't quite touch her eyes, the liquid darkness of which had the burdened quality of one who's mind never sat still, but it was sincerely meant. She offered the identity to the older of the two men, though her gaze presently moved to include the one she already knew, from his phonecall, was called Elias.