A Late Dinner

[Claude Saint-Clair]

It was late when Claude received a response to the text he sent to Nora earlier. She had been working on infiltrating the Brotherhood of the Ascendant Flame. Claude knew she was nervous about it and she could be fairly easy to read. He wanted to check in and make sure she was alright. It was hard to tell from her message if she was being serious, but he would trust her at her word. He really hoped she was okay. It was her first job in the field. 

Claude had to to chuckle a bit at her asking if he was at the safe house that they called home for the time being. He wasn't nearly so adventurous as she was, and it was hard for him to go out when she was out.  He was sure eventually he would relax more. He let her know that he was and asked if she was hungry. It didn't surprise him that she was. She had likely been too focused to eat. He had planned on it and prepared for it. There were chicken breasts marinating in the fridge already and had already chopped some vegetables to saute. 

Claude began to cook as soon as he got her response and let her know to plan on a hot meal when she returned.  Her response made him laugh too. Haha! I figured you didn't eat much today. Good thing you have a little brother that plans ahead

The chicken breasts were soaking in a lemon pepper marinade and he had preheated the oven as soon as she had responded. He had a snack to hold himself over and could eat as well. Thankfully the oven had finished it's preheat shortly after he started sauteing the vegetables. It gave the small apartment a great aroma as he worked. Hopefully the travel through the city would slow her down enough for him to finish before she got back. If she got back a little later, she would understand if she had to wait for a little bit, but he'd rather have it ready when she got here, but still hot.

The food finished and he just finished separating the food onto two plates as the door opened and Nora entered. He gave her a smile and placed the two plates on the counter. "Welcome back. Perfect timing," he said with a smile. Claude gestured for her to sit and got the appropriate cutlery which he handed brought to her. "Water, juice, soda, something stronger?" he asked, offering a beverage with her meal.

[Nora Saint-Clair]

Nora fumbled with her keys, her fingers so numb they felt like wooden pegs. The Moscow wind gave one final, spiteful shriek, whipping a flurry of crystalline snow into the hallway before she managed to heave the heavy door shut. She leaned her back against the wood, relieved to be inside.

The safehouse was small and smelled perpetually of furniture that hadn’t been dusted in ages, but tonight it held a different scent. It hit her like a physical wave: lemon, cracked black pepper, and the savory tang of searing chicken. Her stomach let out a treacherous, audible growl.

Claude was at the small kitchenette, silhouetted against the warm glow of the stove. He looked entirely too comfortable, a sharp contrast to the frozen, soul-weary shell Nora felt she had become.

Nora didn't answer immediately. She just shed her coat, dropped her bag, and slumped into the chair he’d gestured toward, the warmth of the apartment finally beginning to prickle her skin. It was a painful, itching sensation.

"Hell yes," Nora rasped, her voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel in response to the offer of a drink. "Give me the strongest thing we have that won't actually blind me.”

She let out a long, ragged breath and pointed a fork at the plate of chicken. "You’re a lifesaver, Claude." She took a bite of the chicken, the flavors exploding on her tongue. It was real. It was grounded. It was the exact opposite of the airy, metaphysical nonsense she'd been drowning in all day.

"It’s a madhouse, Claude," she said after a few more hurried bites, her mood souring as the memories of the day caught up to her. "A gold-plated, incense-scented madhouse. They have these ceremonies the 'Ceremony of Reflection' where they basically poke around in your head until they find a soft spot, then they press on it until you admit you're a piece of garbage that needs their 'light' to be whole again.”

She gestured vaguely toward the lantern on the floor. "I’m an 'Ember' now. They gave me a lamp and told me I’m carrying a spark of the divine. It’s absolutely cult-like. They don’t just want your service; they want your identity. They want you to believe that without the Brotherhood, you’re just a flickering wick in a hurricane.”

She leaned back, the alcohol and the food finally softening the sharp edges of her irritability. "And the leader? This 'Luminar'? He’s like some invisible god-king. He denied my request to stay at the Sanctuary without so much as a reason. Just a 'no' from on high. The arrogance of it is staggering, even for a bunch of people who think they can talk to this bizarre Veil.”

She took another sip of her drink, her eyes narrowing as she looked at her brother. The banter was over; the job remained.

"Anyway,” she said, her voice dropping to a more steady tone. "I'm in. I'm an Ember, which apparently means I'm 'actively illuminating' or some other flowery crap. Now, tell me about your end. How did it go finding Nox?”

[Claude Saint-Clair]

Claude nodded as soon as she requested her drink. He had learned how to read Nora fairly well in their time growing up. She was in a serious mood, so he made sure that's where he was. Nora was going to need someone to listen as much as she needed the food he had made. That was something he could be. It was a big reason he was here. He wanted to keep Nora grounded. There wasn't much here to drink, but there was some whiskey, so he poured her a glass on the rocks and put it in front of her with a can of coke just in case she wanted a chaser or to mix it.

He poured one for himself a whiskey and began to eat as she spoke, making sure she knew he was listening. It sounded like a cult from what she said. Claude was worried for Nora, but it wasn't because he didn't think she was capable. It was just because she was his sister. "This Luminar sounds like a prick," he said after she finished. "Be careful - they're likely dangerous people. Some of them are probably victims too. And if you ever need to vent - well - you know where I am." He was halfway tempted to ask if she wanted back up, but it was her mission and he didn't want to intrude. He would go in a heartbeat if she wanted.

"I found Nox. He was relatively easy to find. The database has a significant amount of information on the guy. He has a perimeter in the Red Light District," he took a sip of his drink. "Another Atharim tried to take care of him. He damn near has a fortress - complete with drones that patrol. He has a building there with an AI assistant. He has some tech support too. Called them "Wicked." After I told him about my first encounter, he asked this Wicked to make sure the Atharim were unaware of it. I checked and there is nothing of my littler earthquake on their radar. I talked to him and learned from him. He's knowledgeable. I can control it now, and have a decent understanding of how to use it."

He sighed as he finished his food. "Among other things, it's addictive. What I can do and what you can do is similar, but different. He described using my power as a bull in a china shop. He's not wrong on that. Women are different. I can sense men and women when they use it, but apparently women can only sense women."

He stood up and cleared the plates, placing them in the sink. "With all that in mind, I think he's a decent enough guy. Has a bunch of kids he takes care of, and seems to protect his own. There was a woman there. Looked familiar, but I couldn't place her, who was trying to figure things out. He offered to let me practice with him and learn more. And I'm going to do it. I can't let a possible tool be set aside and it would be the first time I've had to accept something about myself that I didn't like." Nora knew. As far as he knew, she was the only one who knew. He still hadn't completely accepted that either, but it was what it was.

Claude sat down again and finished his glass, offering to refill Nora's if she wanted. "He can't teach women, but knows some who can. If that is something you want, I'd be willing to make that happen. I didn't tell him about you because I wanted you to be able to make that choice on your own. Just let me know."

[Nora Saint-Clair]

Nora finished the last of the chicken, the savory lemon-pepper sauce a lingering comfort against the cold still clinging to her marrow. She picked up the whiskey glass Claude had set before her. The ice cubes had already begun to weep, thinning the amber liquid. With a flick of her wrist, she drained the glass, then reached for the bottle and poured a finger of the spirit into the glass, neat this time. No water to dull the fire.

She tossed it back, feeling the liquid heat slide down her throat like molten copper. It burned away the last of the Sanctuary’s incense.

"He has reason to be paranoid, Claude,” Nora said matter of fact. She set the glass down with a sharp clack on the wooden table. "The Atharim hunting their own,” she murmured, shaking her head. "I can… I can almost follow their twisted logic when they go after regular channelers. They see it as a duty, a grim necessity to keep the world from tearing itself apart. But to turn that blade on their own blood? On people like us?” She scoffed, a bitter sound. "That’s not duty. That’s a purge. It’s sickening.”

She looked at her hands, then toward the rest of her drink. "The Brotherhood hasn't mentioned anything about the differences between men and women yet. They’re too busy wrapping everything in metaphors about 'The Veil' to give me any actual mechanics.”

She considered the 'bull in a china shop' description. It made a strange kind of sense. "A bull in a china shop?” she repeated. "And addictive? They definitely haven't mentioned that part. Though, looking at the faces of some of those higher-ranking Veilwardens, I shouldn't be surprised. They have this look in their eyes: a sort of glazed, desperate hunger they try to pass off as 'spiritual ecstasy.’”

Claude offered a refill, mentioning a woman who could teach her. Nora looked at him, her expression hardening with resolve.

"No,” she said, her voice firm. "Not yet. If I’m going to do this, I have to do it their way. I need to see what they teach, how they manipulate people, and how they justify it. If I start learning from outside sources, I’ll lose the thread of the lie. I need to be authentic to the 'Seeker's journey,' or Seraphis will smell the deception.”

She reached out, patting Claude’s arm. His admission that he was accepting a part of himself hit her more than she expected.

"I'm glad you feel that way, Claude,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his.

She stood up, the exhaustion returning, but this time it was tempered by a sense of direction. She looked at the small apartment, then at the lantern.

"I'm going to get some sleep. Tomorrow, I have to go back and 'nurture the spark,’” she said, the irony thick in her tone.