Rot ━ Mal Oretsev ✓

002: SUGAR, SPICE AND EVERYTHING NICE

The day is miserable, though perhaps that's just Thalia's natural mood.

She has been up since the sun rose this morning. Thalia is by no means an early bird. She hates mornings. But a nervous wreck? Terminally. She's always like this the day before crossing the fold, up and about before people have even thought about waking themselves. Worry washes over her like torrential rain. Soaked through to the bones with it and shaking like a mad woman.

Each time she crosses the Fold, Thalia chances death. Perhaps that's part of the reason she keeps going.

They are already locked and loaded with Heartrender's— Kamila, Saskia and Vladislav. Healers, however, are a different story. While Thalia is not a Healer, they are short on supply. She knows the basics, and she is being put on that Skiff whether she likes it or not.

   "Morning," Zaria greets, scooting onto the bench beside Thalia in the Grisha breakfast hall. It's smaller, given there is less of them than First Army soldiers, but still grand. Zaria helps herself to a handful of grapes, the purple mirroring her Kefta. "You ready for today, d'ya think?"

A pathetic laugh slips past Thalia's lips. "Far from it," she replies, sipping on her tea. The beverage is bitter on her tongue from lack of sugar, but only when she deserves it will she allow herself something so sacred. Thalia holds very low hopes of this coming to be true one day. She notices Zaria's stare lingering on her face, and touches her cheek self-consciously with an unsure frown. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Zaria smiles that prize winning Zaria Petrova smile, her gaze not shifting. "Zoya tells me you had a visitor last night."

"Did she really?" Thalia replies, feigning innocence. Zoya and her big, stupid mouth blabbering on about everyones business but her own. "Zoya talks rubbish all the time, you should know not to listen to her by now."

"Ah ah ah," Zaria tuts with a shake of her head. She points her right index finger at Thalia, using her left to pop another grape into her mouth. Thalia would never be able to understand how she did that so effortlessly. "I know Zoya chats rubbish, trust. But, she described this man in very fine details, and I'm just having a hard time believing she made it all up."

Thalia rolls her eyes, fingers tapping away at the wooden surface of the table. She'd prefer to be doing anything but having this conversation. Mal visiting the tent was a slip up. It was something in its own realm. It was something Thalia did not want to talk about.

Nonetheless, Zaria seems adamant in having this conversation with her. "So, who was he?"

"Casimir," Thalia lies. Casimir was Zaria's latest conquest, and she could easily fabricate a story involving him since the boy didn't seem to know where his shoes were half the time, never mind where he was last night. "He came looking for you, actually. Zoya's just trying to cause trouble because she's got nothing else to do."

Zaria is not easily fooled, but Thalia's done enough of it to know what she's doing. "Huh," Zaria whispers. "I'll have to find him later on and see what he wanted. Probably me. I am irresistible, after all. But for now, my dearest Thalia, I must be off to fix up some things for General Kirigan."

   "Hold on a minute," Thalia bids, holding Zaria by the arm to halt her movement. "Kirigan's got you working again? Did you not just finish his latest project?"

Zaria nods solemnly. "Indeed I did. But you know what Kirigan's like. 'Nothing is ever truly finished until the Fold is banished' and all that. Weirdo. But I must be off, see you on the Skiff!"

Thalia gives her a small smile as a goodbye, watching her friend leave. Despite her apparent distain for General Kirigan, it seemed that all Zaria was ever doing was working on new things for him. The price of being a Durast, she supposed. At least Kirigan didn't call on Thalia unless he absolutely needed her. Zaria was being shouted on left and right.