DATE: July 21st, 10:13pm. LOCATION: Sofia Markova’s apartment. STATUS: Closed for Sofia ( @zcphyras​​ ).
She was waiting. Waiting. Something was utterly ridiculous about the concept of having to wait on the person she was going to pressure. Or was that what she was planning? Her mind had raced, ever since Leonard had been so galant to let her into Markova’s apartment (disappearing immediately afterwards because while he enjoyed lock picking, he didn’t enjoy the whole blackmail thing as much). So, now she was alone and she was waiting, which was mildly frustrating, especially considering the state of the apartment she had let herself into. For some reason this wasn’t what she had expected, the sheer chaos around her was rather jarring. When she had first walked in her instinct had been to collect all the mugs, placed on all different surfaces and gather them in the kitchen. At her fourth mugh, however, she had realized how ridiculous cleaning your enemies apartment was and that she very much should stop. And so, she had instead started with reading the titles of every book she could find, taking a look in the fridge (which she shouldn’t have done) and registering the severe lack of personal things like photographs or just decor in general. It hadn’t taken much time for her to grow bored, especially since it was now already an hour later than the time she had estimated Sofia’s arrival at. Distracting herself with her phone, she had resolved to sitting down on one of the very little free spaces, a chair at the kitchen table, her gun laid next to her hands.Â
When noises finally came from the front door, she immediately laid her hand over said weapon, while also crossing one leg over the other. Her gaze was trained on the kitchen door, as the figure of a woman finally came into view, drawn in by the light she had turned on. “Good evening, Sofia Markova,” she said, her voice calm and a slight smile on her face. “You’re a little later than usual, I hope nothing bad happened?” Her eyes traveled over the frame of the woman in front of her. She was truly striking, beautiful but not in the way most people were. Theresa had of course seen pictures, but they didn’t do her justice, didn’t capture the way she moved, like a cat, like a fighter. Of course, she had known that. It was the whole reason why, under any other circumstances Tess would have avoided meeting Zephyra in person. Now, things were different though. Now, she had the upper hand, as effectively portrayed by her being in the other womans apartment. “I would ask you to take a seat but it does feel a little inappropriate, considering we’re in your home.”Â
