08-02-2014, 03:26 PM
The Regus was not a man Tehya had ever met, even since arriving in Moscow, but his reputation far preceded him. She knew enough for both wariness and awe, and perhaps a touch of fear. Respect edged her judgements of the man, but it also shaded her impression of Enzo. Not personally, of course, but there were disturbing rumours as to the current Regus's disposition; he sought to re-galvanise the Atharim with a closed fist, and if Enzo was under his watchful eye it was one more reason to practise caution. Weariness descended with the thought; not a new one, but heavy nonetheless.
He seemed thoughtful, though whether about what she had said to him or in contemplation of tomorrow she couldn't say; most probably the latter. A summons was worthy of the curiosity, a testament of recognition, but also a solemn omen. She thought of all that Aria had told her. Of Apollyon. The shifts and changes twisting the world, and none of the Atharim united on how to confront it. War was descending, and she could taste it like tears.Inevitable, Aria had said. It iced a shiver across her skin.
She said nothing. Silence did not bother her, and she did not find its intrusion awkward. Her own conversational skills were lacking, and wary of the darkness in his past she did not wish to press too deeply into uncomfortable territory. Rather than skirt the issue delicately, she chose for now not to address it. In its place she might have offered frivolous things; the weather, his journey, superficial talk of the city of Moscow, but it was simply not her nature. Her presence was earthy, quiet and steady like the centre of a forest.
"If you've travelled long, you should rest."
Protectiveness of a brother was an innate thing, and she had already committed herself to consideration of his welfare now that they were to share a roof. He was lingering in the doorway like perhaps he wished to retire, though showed no other particular signs of fatigue. She didn't know where he'd come from, but she remembered the laboriousness of her own journey well.
He seemed thoughtful, though whether about what she had said to him or in contemplation of tomorrow she couldn't say; most probably the latter. A summons was worthy of the curiosity, a testament of recognition, but also a solemn omen. She thought of all that Aria had told her. Of Apollyon. The shifts and changes twisting the world, and none of the Atharim united on how to confront it. War was descending, and she could taste it like tears.Inevitable, Aria had said. It iced a shiver across her skin.
She said nothing. Silence did not bother her, and she did not find its intrusion awkward. Her own conversational skills were lacking, and wary of the darkness in his past she did not wish to press too deeply into uncomfortable territory. Rather than skirt the issue delicately, she chose for now not to address it. In its place she might have offered frivolous things; the weather, his journey, superficial talk of the city of Moscow, but it was simply not her nature. Her presence was earthy, quiet and steady like the centre of a forest.
"If you've travelled long, you should rest."
Protectiveness of a brother was an innate thing, and she had already committed herself to consideration of his welfare now that they were to share a roof. He was lingering in the doorway like perhaps he wished to retire, though showed no other particular signs of fatigue. She didn't know where he'd come from, but she remembered the laboriousness of her own journey well.