her leg's feeling right as rain. lyune is in recovery. she grows stronger with each passing day. and her outbreak in the baths is forgotten. her actions, forgiven. and she, ever compliant, waits with mouth open when she feels the urge come over her. and sometimes he entertains her desires, and sometimes he shoos her away, too busy with his projects and his other people. 

she doesn't mind about the latter, really. what she doesn't take too kindly to is being kept in the dark. she knows she's a last ditch effort, the backup plan he'll never need - a meat shield to spare him the instant that will save him. but still, she craves usefulness. still, she craves strength. 

tapu fini's madness, a mere taste of the power he has, and it drives her mad. that Razz Kingsman , that Katherine Fairburne  have powers as unimaginable as this. well, it makes her feel inconsequential.

and she doesn't much like that at all. 

she is freshly showered after a sparring session with her new instructor. their combat leaves her wanting, despite the bruises on her sides. she combs through wet hair, dons a chamise, and looks down when her phone buzzes. 

she doesn't bother responding. it never makes a difference. instead, she grabs herself a glass of water, prepares another, and nibbles on some leftover carpaccio from her fridge.

FERNANDO SILPH

☉

he knocks familiarly. he'll show up regardless, and he'll probably have words with her if she doesn't open her doors, but she appreciates the sentiment of his waiting outside. to give her the guise of a choice, even if the latter couldn't/can't bother her. 

swallowing the last bite of what she'd been holding in her hands, she cleans off with a towel and then glides to the door. 

"to what do i owe the pleasure?" she asks. she'd be sporting combat gear if the matter were urgent, but she's a feeling that's not what this is about. another possibility excites her, but she keeps that off her face. she salivates, though, and looks away before she's caught staring at his hands. 

FERNANDO SILPH

☉

"oh?" she stands aside at once to let him pass. this flat is his; she's just his resident. he wouldn't encroach on her privacy and has made that clear thus far, so she's no issue opening up her door to him. 

"well, there's no better place," she says as she closes the door behind him. the flat is as barren as the day he'd set her up in it. everything she'd had at the estate is still in a storage container and will remain untouched until sootopolis has been taken back. 

she has her amenities, her furnishings, and that is enough. what good is it for the suicidal to collect art and trinkets? even her bedroom is barren of any photographs or ties to her self. 

"the study's untouched. i can take the couch while you're here. unless you'd prefer i lodge elsewhere, but i'm assuming this isn't just about staying in a different environment."

FERNANDO SILPH

☉

he'd told her to make it her own and so she'd ordered furnishings from a catalogue. the bare essentials, cold and empty. fitting, really, for the pair of them. and evidently it's just what he needs. so she watches him come in and settle down, following him much like a shade, intrigued at his movements. 

every so often, she glances at the palms of his hands. 

but then he sets himself up to work and she rolls her shoulders. she's not so hungry anymore, but she makes a small plate of the carpaccio, accompanied by a couple wedges of cheese, and leaves it beside fernando before making her way to her balcony. 

"i'll be working on my katas if you need me." she cracks the door open just enough to hear him if he calls. and then she rolls out her yoga mat and starts her flows. 

FERNANDO SILPH

☉

and work on them, she does. she forgets his presence, somewhat, as she moves from form to form. her muscles, now thick and corded with constant use, hold the positions well, and with a poise most envy. and while the movement is slow and deliberate, her grace has a harshness to it, a roughness befitting a frontline warrior, not an assassin. 

her hands come out, eyes half-closed with focus, as she grabs her bow and twists it around herself. she can feel him watching, every so often, and the pulsing in her veins, the dripping of her sweat, all reminds her of the bath, of the mist forced down her throat. 

she licks her lips. he continues his work, as does she. once, she breaks for water, and to give her body a moment's respite. and then it's back into it, practicing gymnastics and keeping her muscles loose, her bones less breakable. she will not be brittle iron on the battlefield, but steel. 

FERNANDO SILPH

☉

freya doesn't know if it's the deity inside him that allows fernando to sleep as little as he does, but it's not her place to say. and it's not her place to place to comment either. she stays true to her word, however, offering him the bed while she takes the couch, but he declines her each and every time, and so she's found her way to bed after a bath, leaving the door open in case he needs her. 

she doesn't drink coffee any longer, but the machine and the grounds came with the rest of the things she'd flippantly ordered. she does her morning katas and watches the rain come down on the other side of the balcony. 

when her muscles are loosened and she's dressed for the day, she comes inside and perches on the chair beside fernando. 

"how long will you be staying?" she asks with a cocked head. "not that i mind. it's just, you've never done this before."

FERNANDO SILPH

☉

he's vague and because it's fernando, freya knows there's more to the picture. still, she doesn't press. her worries and her troubles over him are rumpled and so she wraps her arms around her legs, rolls on the balls of her feet, and looks down at his coffee, at his hand on the mug. 

she licks her lips. "i've," she starts, hesitating, "been patient. but everything is duller and i want..." her mouth waters and she swallows, looking up from fernando's arm to his eyes, her own soft blues pleading. 

"i do know," she says. she untangles herself and her odd crouching perch on the chair stretches as she presses her palms to the tabletop, reaches forward with one hand towards his own. 

FERNANDO SILPH

☉