Nora and the Mermaid |ONC 2021|

Chapter Six (1st Draft)

New Job, Different Dilemma

♡

You've been matched.

Could three words have greater impact? Sure there was "I love you," but to a blogger hopeful who desired stardom? Nothing meant more.

Being matched on HEA signified something. Something big, something with enough gravity it could change the way Nora's world ran. 

If only she could check the app, view her messages, steal a glance at the gal who'd caught the interest of Tink, AI Godmother extraordinaire, and been set on a collision course with WinterMint23.

But now Nora had to be in work-mode, back straight and pained, toes pinched thanks to some wickedly pointed heels while she feigned interest in the world around her and not the one inside her latest iPhone.

The holographic rendering of Mr. Archer danced through the sea of chairs filling the vast theater-but-not space, highlighting Seraphim's 'relaxed' and 'fun' atmosphere in a way that was almost comedic.

Beside Nora, three others looked equally as miserable as her, and equally as poor at hiding it. A bearded dwarf plucked stray threads off the cuff of their pin-stripe suit. It was one Nora's mother would have approved of because it had that silk sheen that screamed "money was laid down to own me."

Next to them was a curly-haired boy, no older than twenty-one physically, his eyes a deep, ancient gold. The color of centuries old parchment. He oozed elegance.

From the way he nibbled his pencil eraser, to how he bit his lip, the flutter of his eyelashes when boredom threatened to bring him under its spell, to the eye roll he supplied Mrs. Castiron when the HR rep cornered them at the doors and slapped paper nametags in their hands- to be worn at all times.

He was probably Fae, but Nora didn't know from what court. It was ignorant to think but somehow, Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter all looked them same. Being unbelievably gorgeous had a way of making everyone blend.

The last of the newcomers was an angel. Two winged, not four, so not Seraphim. Dominion, maybe. The angels who loved justice and turned to all avenues of law for short, centuries long careers.

Whoever this angel was, they were attractive (not Fae-attractive, but that was on a whole other level) - long and willowy, a mane of yellow hair accented with beads and bird feathers.

Their body exaggerated in all the right places under a black blouse and blazer. Dark, smoky lids, and heavily lined eyes added an air of sullen mystique. 

Wings the length of Nora's legs spread out from their back, the two slits in their jacket doing their job, allowing for the free launching and retracting of wings at will. The feathers black, not white.

While white wings were more common and more traditionally thought of as beautiful, these black ones were something else. The gloss alone was enough to make Nora jealous, and as she was on the verge of asking the angel if there was some special product they used for wing-care that could be applied to wig-care, holographic Mr. Archer was reminding everyone of Seraphim's greatness. As though the people in the room weren't already aware of how the company had course corrected the world, dragging everyone toward a prosperous future.

After echoing the slogan, Two worlds, One Hope, a favorite of the United Front (Coalition for Peace Between Humans and Majjos), Mr. Archer popped out of existence. Mrs. Castiron took her cue, rising from her seat and shuffling toward the dwarf-sized podium. Her fingers curled around its edge as she stared at them through lenses as thick as window panes.