[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]her choice of venue is considerably odd, that much is factual. out of character, yes. the simple explanation, though, is this: she isn't confined to a cage anymore. there's a freedom to her now. enough for her to summon the powerful councilman to a seedy bar with liquor on her breath and know he'll show.

there's a certainty to their interactions, really.

she knows he'll show and he knows she'll call. it's almost enough to make her smile. it shows as a slight quirk of the corners of a mouth, friendly and affectionate with the familiar sound of her last name.

"how've you been?" pleasantries while she sips, while she increases the liquor in her system and decreases her brain function. it's hard to pinpoint the cause for this effect at the moment. maybe time with her parents, maybe the losses suffered. that train of thought dies at the bottom of a glass now empty, names and faces buried beneath haze.

she'll pat the seat beside her, shifting to cross one leg over the other. the dress moves, creases, settles against the top of her thighs.

"still busy as ever?" she doesn't necessarily want to talk about work anymore but she asks anyway. polite, even when it no longer concerns her. she left that part behind. the only reminder of it, now, is her company. and eventually, he'll become a different reminder. of what, exactly? that's for him to decide.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]"i'm sorry," characteristic, usual, expected. an apology is what she knows, what she offers. "you'll wear yourself ragged, you know." he's always been working. going here, going there, busy busy busy. it's what he knows.

a hand raises, a signal for two. the bartender gets to work.

"for now?" she turns to face him, head tilting at the thought. "well, that doesn't sound ominous at all." the chuckle that escapes almost sounds sad. not quite but tinged enough to taste bitter.

an old friend. time and disappearances have eroded their relationship. is it for better or worse? who's to say, really. things left unsaid and actions left in the past. the here and now is all that she's concerned about. the future is shaky at best and nonexistent at worst.

still, there's comfort in their exchanges, comfort in his presence.

a soft sigh escapes and for the first time of the night, a warm smile erupts across her features.

"i appreciate you coming," she murmurs. her attention retreats to the bar, to the drinks as they come. her fingers clutch around glass like a lifeline. "i'm sorry for leaving."

she doesn't need to explain why. he knows as well as she does what was left behind.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]the ghost of a smile precedes half of a tease. "and will you ever listen?" she knows he won't. not yet, not when he's still in his prime. not when there's so much to do and so much to take. for all the differences they have, she has come to learn one thing about fernando silph: he takes what he is owed. it's admirable to her, if only because she cannot possess the same prowess.

maybe one day she will.

"when will the counting end, hm?" it's only half as cheeky as his before. a tit for tat, a new game she's come into playing. snowpoint city did her well. a new woman, a new pawn. never close to the queen but she'll keep trying. unfortunately, freedom always comes at a price.

part of her wonders if that price has already come to pass or if it's sitting beside her now.

the drink is short lived. all that remains is ice cubes barely melted and alcohol fresh on her lips. a mirror of his actions, maybe. or, better yet, a survival tactic. the past year has not been kind.

"perhaps," sounds hollow, faraway. how much of it was necessary? how much cowardice? fleeing from demons here right into the arms of demons there. returning home had never been an option until she made it one. and now, she'll reap what she has sown. trauma changes the person, breaks the soul. what you do with those pieces is up to you. bits of an old self stitched together with bits of a new. halfway between the past and the future, somewhere in limbo like searching for a purpose. except, she has none.

"i suppose i was naive for thinking it would be." expectations are always heavy but his? crushing. perhaps it's no surprise she didn't amount to what he had hoped. she had wanted to surpass the idea of her he has created. surpass, exceed, conquer. instead, she crumbled beneath pressure and loss and has yet to rise from ashes. it'd be silly of her to believe he would place faith in her again, really, but the soft flicker still burns.

glass clinks against counter and she rotates to face him.

"there's nothing to thank me for." not now, not yet. she failed. the thought stings. "who's to say what the future holds, though."

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]classic answer. when he can, when he's allowed. she expects nothing less of him and yet, a tiny part is almost saddened at the thought. "soon, i hope." for his sake stays rooted in her mind, unspoken but present.

truthfully, she's still angry. filled with a soft rage that won't die out. the events that transpired in the three day war haunt her. and here he sits, informing her that he knew the risk. he considered it and didn't care. the risk outweighed the reward. it doesn't surprise her. no choice, no other option.

nothing but her.

in an odd, fucked way, it's flattering. he held her on such a high pedestal that he knew she could get them out in one piece. integral to their success, sure, but at what cost? maybe herself, her avatarship, her life. each one insignificant in the throes of war.

"it's a shame it came to that," she murmurs. it's bitter, almost resentful. "but somehow, not surprising." she knew war would be hell going into it and she still went. that's on her, not him. besides, she's never been more than a lamb for slaughter. there was always going to come a time where she would have to face that role.

will she come back into the fold? is there even a spot for her now? she's uncertain of her place in the grand scheme of things, sure, but would that stop her?

"i might." there's a very high chance she will. and as if to solidify that, she offers more. "after all, i have nothing left to lose." a smile turns rueful.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]things happen for a reason. events unfold the way they do with some higher purpose we don't understand. maybe that's the catch of existence. she doesn't bother to dwell too much on it, the thoughts too deep into existential crisis for her not sober mind. "no use in thinking it could be different." that road leads to somewhere she doesn't want to be anymore.

the differences between the bar then and the bar now are not lost on her.

before, she had been shy, meek, in over her head, avoiding the notion that his eyes are roaming. it's an almost pleasant change, truthfully. there's something thrilling, now, about the motion. maybe that's why her head raises a little higher, why her legs shift to uncross and recross. aware, taunting, playing the new part she's made for herself.

the voice of reason is no longer her duty and she can't decide whether that's a good or bad thing.

"is that so?" a challenge for him to show her what she doesn't know. she leans some of her weight onto the bar, attention moving to the bartender. he's busy working, crafting their next drinks. "i thought everything had already been lost. do you know something i don't, fernando?" coy, even if she adept with the concept. it won't get her very far.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]it doesn't bother her that bait isn't taken. she knows better than to assume he would jump at the sight of flesh. still, it's somewhat amusing to test that theory. much like an experiment, she'll change a variable and try again. all for scientific purposes, right?

the signal for another round is expected. quick, efficient, no sign of slowing yet.

"fate's taken enough," she can't help the soft laugh that weasels its way out. "i'd appreciate a break from losing if that's alright with the powers that be."

it never will be, though. more will be taken than received. it's the way the world works. something always goes south.

a hand rises to tuck a stray strand back behind her ear. "would it be persevering if i jumped back into the fold?" her eyes dart to gauge his reaction. "or would it be idiotic?"

FERNANDO SILPH