Zoya Nazyalensky Imagines

Second Best

The task before you is simple. All you have to do is use your abilities as a Grisha Squaller to pick up the metal spear before you and launch it across a clearing into the awaiting target. It's almost offensively easy, something you've been training to do since you arrived at the Little Palace all those years ago. It's very simple, although the fact that you're now next in line to complete the task makes it seem strangely harder.

However, the eyes of the rest of the Squallers are upon you, so you can't exactly back down now. You step forward, lifting your hands in the traditional gestures used by the Etherealki whenever they have it in their minds to do something particularly interesting, and the spear lifts before you. You let it hover there, suspended in the air for a second, and then you fling your hands forward, palms facing the target. The spear flies in unison with your movement, burying itself halfway through its length in the target. It's almost a perfect shot, maybe off by a hair's breadth. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

You can hear applause from behind you, the usual aura of surprise that comes with the feat you've just accomplished. With a casual gesture of your fingers, the spear yanks itself out of the target, with only a few sparse pieces of straw falling to the ground as any sort of damage. Well, that and the gaping hole in the center of the target, although that is quickly mended by the Fabrikator kept on hand. You can't help but grin to yourself as the spear returns to your hand. Let's see anyone else match that.

You may have spoken a little too soon- seconds after you've returned the spear to its awaiting position near the front of the courtyard, it's hurled again through the air, shooting with the precision of an arrow to land in the direct center of the target. You thought it might be impossible to improve upon the slight difference in your shot, but this latest Squaller has managed it with ease.

Normally, any other blue-garbed Etherealki would be looking around in horror and dismay, upset as to what would cost them the first place spot in the class and curious as to who could land a perfect shot such as that. You, however, are somewhat used to this now, and just keep walking with a grin. You can hear footsteps approaching behind you, and don't even have to turn around to acknowledge the girl now matching your strides.

"Nice one, Zoya." The girl beside you smirks. "I should hope so. If I so much as missed the center by a hair, you wouldn't let me forget it for a week." You laugh. "Of course not. How could I let go of the chance to not tease Zoya'Best In Class' Nazyalensky? It would practically be a crime." Zoya nods, pretending to be serious. "Absolutely. The Saints might invoke their wrath upon you if you didn't act upon such an opportunity." You fling your hand over your heart dramatically. "Here lies Y/N L/N, dead after the Saints wanted to see her make fun of her friend and she let them down."

Zoya snorts graciously as you pretend to faint on her, shoving your mock limp body aside. "Oh, you consider us friends?" You catch yourself easily, rolling your eyes. "Zoya dear, I know it would bring you no greater pleasure in the world to consider yourself a lone wolf, forever at the front of the pack, but I thought you'd realized by now that you simply can't get rid of me. We're friends."

You can hear Zoya grumbling, but when you glance over at her, there's an ill-concealed smile dancing behind her eyes. "That's an interesting way to convince people to like you, annoy them and make sure you don't ever leave you alone." You raise an eyebrow at her. "And did it work, yes or no?" Zoya huffs. "It did, but we're not talking about that." You grin. "Of course we're not."

You pause by the halls of the Little Palace, ready to part ways as usual. Although the Etherealki and Squallers specifically all have their quarters around the same area, Zoya's rooms are a ways away from your own. This is typically where you split up, where you go your way and Zoya returns to her own devices, where she'll most likely plot how to take control of the next lesson and prove herself the best of the students yet again.