Coffee or Tea (Artskaf)

[Nora Saint-Clair]

After she settled into her seat, Nora waved off Claude’s gushing with a small wave of her hand. He’d always been the affectionate one—his warmth an endless wellspring. It was a quality she loved about him, though she teased him for it mercilessly. The memories came unbidden: a much smaller Claude, all knees and elbows, clinging to her side after some scraped knee or childhood indignity. She had been his fiercest protector then, and some part of her still was.

Now, she gave him a wry smile, her eyes softening even as her tone turned. “It is wonderful to see you also, of course.”

A server approached, setting the small porcelain cup of her cortado on the table, perched neatly on its plate. Nora wrapped her fingers around it instinctively, welcoming the heat into her cold hands. She hadn’t thought to bring gloves, and the bite of winter lingered in her knuckles. Lifting the drink, she inhaled the sharp, nutty aroma before taking a sip, the warmth blooming across her tongue and chasing away the last of the morning chill.

Claude leaned forward, eager for more of her attention, and Nora’s teasing smile deepened. “Oh yes, I found her,” she said, her voice lilting with mock exasperation. “She’s just as tiresome and grumpy as ever.” She paused, quirking a brow knowingly. “But that’s why we love Grym, isn’t it?” 

Just as she started to answer his next question, something—or rather, someone—caught her attention. 

Nora’s words faltered. Her gaze snagged on a figure nearby, recognition sparking like a lit match in her mind. The familiarity jolted her: for all the months she’d spent in Dominance I, her socializing outside the Atharim had been minimal. Faces here were mostly strangers, and that made this moment… unusual. Uncomfortable. 

“Oh…” she murmured, her sentence dissolving mid-thought. Her brows knit together briefly, then smoothed, as if she were trying to collect herself. “Sorry, I see someone I know.”

She didn’t elaborate. Couldn’t, really. Claude didn’t need to know about her visit to the Brotherhood—especially not now, over coffee and pastries. The implications of that would open doors she wasn’t ready to walk through yet.

Instead, she shifted in her seat, angling her body away from the room while lifting her cortado to her lips. The gesture seemed casual, but her shoulders tightened ever so slightly, a faint tension seeping into her normally fluid movements. She let the cup linger near her mouth, more as a shield than a drink, the steam curling up in delicate tendrils between her and the rest of the café. She could only hope the figure hadn’t noticed her.

[Calliope]

“Of course!” Despite the circumstances Cali was pleased Liam would want her to come with him for something like that. Not that she could blame him for being wary of Gideon’s kindness, it was usually double-edged – there was very little their cousin actually took seriously.

“There’s more?” She laughed a little, and this time did wrap her fingers around her tea. Normally she’d be more than happy to just prompt him on – her life at the Brotherhood was interesting to her, but she understood that faith was personal. But...

“Actually, something strange happened – at one of the rituals. There were some new Seekers, one even signed the book afterwards.” She paused a moment then, tripping over the uncomfortable memory of Sámiel. That was something she didn’t know how to explain, and anything which sent small ripples of conflicting disquiet within her wasn’t something she wanted to burden on her little brother. Cali leaned closer. She really wished then that she was able to simply show Liam what she was about to confide, but though she had been practising what Seraphis taught her it didn’t come easily yet.

The flicker of her frown disappeared. It was replaced by warmth – the sort of obsession all members of the Haart family knew well. “My prayers were finally answered,” she whispered. “I can actually do it Liam. I can channel.”