FORTUNE FAVOURS ELYSIA | ᴀᴅᴀᴍ x ʟᴜᴛᴇ

10 | CONSORT

𝙻𝚄𝚃𝙴'𝚂 𝙿𝙾𝚅—

My hands dance across the fretboard, plucking each note with my adjacent hand. A soft smile is spread across my face, losing myself in the music I'm playing. Each note ringing out, drawing me further into my self orchestrated trance. My eyes rest themselves, closing as I lean further into the lute, bringing the body of the instrument close to my body. I don't just play the ballad, but live through it.

I had spent the rest of today at home, after Adam and I's failed meeting intercepted by Michael. I can barely shake the feeling he gave me when his hand grazed upon my body, the instant fear I felt— as if he had cast some spell on me. From the shit I've seen so far in heaven, spell-casting does not seem like something completely unrealistic... I just don't understand why he didn't want me around Adam. I've seen Michael throughout training, and it's like he has this personal vendetta against me that won't be satisfied with until I'm out of the training centre and no risk of 'trouble.'

I hear a beep come from my cell phone, which is rested on my desk across from my bed in which I'm curled up on. I stand myself up, setting the Lute to the side, and pick up the device, reading the message on the green monochrome display.

— [ 𝖴𝖭𝖪𝖭𝖮𝖶𝖭 ]: 𝚑𝚎𝚢, 𝚒'𝚖 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛. 𝚒'𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜

I'll take a calm text over pounding my door relentlessly any day of the week. I set my phone down, and walk towards my front door. I turn the knob lock to the unlocked position, and then pulled the chain loose the chain from the deadbolt. I open the door wide, and am met with not the intimidating glow of a yellow jacket colour scheme mask, but two sunflower eyes, human eyes, gazing at my own. It's nice to not see him in uniform, in this simple black t shirt and black jeans attire. He's dressed down, but he still looks well put together, even if his brown hair is messy and the fact he seemingly hasn't shaved in a few days. In his grasp, we're fast food bags— though from a different place. They weren't the same ones from earlier.

"Was the meeting this important that you have to bring it to my apartment at — quarter to midnight?"

"Yeah, actually. Let me in."

I smirk, and shake my head, "Nuh uh uh. I appreciate the text message you sent me, so lets keep to being polite. Ask again."

"Lute, come on," He seems slightly flustered, but finds humour in what I'm jesting at.

"No, let's ask nicer, Adam."

Despite the lightheartedness of my tone, I can tell he's not used to having to ask for things.

"Can I please come in...?"

I step aside, "Yeah, of course."

He shuffled inside without another word, and shuts the door behind him by simply using his mind— a glow emitting on the door knob to pull it back into a closed position.

"Sorry, Adam, no real kitchen table here. You can sit uhh— either at my desk, or on my bed."

"What kind of suite did they fucking give you?" He seemed offended at the simplicity of my apartment.

"I actually like this. I don't need a lot of belongings, and it's not like I'm living with anyone, tables aren't necessary."

"Shit, you military girls are hardcore. Almost forgot..." Adam decided to sit on my bed, beside the large window that overlooked the city skyline. I sat down opposing of him, on the other side of my bed.