#teine

Nevermind that this was without a doubt, a conversation—confrontation—to be had in private. Nevermind that Mira knew her temper was yet again ruling her actions as she planted herself there. Nevermind that she could feel her mother’s disapproving gaze she would earn and hear the disappointment dripping from the rebuke that would be sure to follow—if she were even here.

Syrena stiffened as she sensed someone beside her, the words “Can I help–” started coming from her mouth, almost incensed to be pulled from the conversation she’d been having. But the second she recognized who it was, interrupting her, her ire dropped immediately. “Oh. Sorrengail. Hi.” Her expression softened into a small smile. One that Mira had absolutely no patience for even if she felt her heart stutter at the sight. “We were just–”

“You fucking lied to me.” Mira cut her off, setting her palm down flat on the table next to where the flier rested her arm near her plate, only just shy of what someone might consider a slam. No plates or silverware rattled, no beverages sloshed in their cups, but her stiff posture and clenched jaw as she loomed over Syrena was clearly a kind of threat.

Syrena, to her credit and Mira’s agitation looked entirely unphased, as her shoulders deflated and the smile slipped from her face. Her fliers, on the other hand, fell startlingly silent. Their easy idle chatter died on their tongues as they shifted in their seats tensing, waiting to act, should the rider choose to engage. A few soldiers sitting down the long table stand as if suddenly finished with their meals, deciding (smartly) that whatever was going on between fliers was none of their business.

It would be foolish. Mira was the only one in black in the corner of the mess otherwise occupied with the dark brown of Poromish flight leathers, but she’d been outnumbered and behind enemy lines before and come away with a medal for it.

“Do not do something you’ll regret. Do not prove to these pigeon riders you are everything they assumed you would be because you are offended your flier had the audacity to look out for you.” Teine warned over the bond. His rider had always been a punch first, ask questions later kind of rider. He was only mildly surprised that she hadn’t led with her fist in this instance as well. She certainly had no problems doing so with anyone else, including her own brother, and yet there was something about this flier that allowed Mira some sense.

They could not afford to be set back in all the progress they had made. They could not afford to blow up this alliance or the tentative trust the riders had earned. The cost was too great with a fight this lopsided. They needed to be focused on fighting the enemy, the venin , not each other. Mira knew that. She’d broken up several fights in the early days of her riot reaching the front herself. Obviously she knew that.

But that didn’t make it any easier to retreat from her current position. So. She didn’t. She couldn’t. It was like she was frozen there, her eyes locked into deep green. Mira was only vaguely aware of someone clearing their throat, but she didn’t look away, not even when Syrena did to glance around the table at her drift.

Syrena felt Mira’s heavy gaze on her as she raised her had from the table, holding her fliers in place with a simple, dismissive, “It’s fine.”— deescalating what had the potential to easily turn into a fight, had one of her flier’s involved themselves in this misunderstanding between the two women. Well, it wasn’t really a misunderstanding, but there was no need for anyone to be on edge about Mira’s… abrasiveness.

“You’re sure?” Mason, her second in command, raised an eyebrow at her. He was loyal, one of her oldest friends. This would not be the first time the two of them had gotten into something of a bar fight together– though this time there wouldn’t be any hiding it from her uncle and the queen or keeping everyone from seeing who it was fighting. And this would obviously not just be a bar fight with some infantry jackass who got a little handsy where she could blame her lack of decorum on alcohol.

Not that she wanted to fight Mira. She didn’t even think Mira wanted to fight—not in the literal sense at least. If she had, there's no way her hand would have stayed planted on the table, or that her other wouldn’t have reached for one of the many blades she kept on her person.

Syrena simply nodded to him before she cocked her head to the side, requesting he and the rest of the drift give them the space that everything in Mira’s body language was demanding. “Go. Price, check the litters and medical supplies with the healers and offer any help they need. Tanner, Dods, and Grant relieve the current patrol around Anca proper. Mason, we should be receiving another supply drop in a few hours if you could manage that, and tell the others to report to the armory and help the weapons masters sharpen blades as needed, but they are the standby for today.”

There was a variety of responses that essentially boiled down to “ yes, ma’am ” as the fliers left the two women at the end of the table. Though Mason hesitated a second longer after he stood with his finished breakfast, a glimmer of what Syrena knew to be a sure fire tease at exactly what kind of tension was between her and one Lieutenant Sorrengail. “Go.”

Now that her drift had been handled, Syrena’s attention turned fully toward Mira, who had still yet to move. “Sit down.” She nudged the leg of the chair Mira was standing behind, her voice softer then it had been seconds ago as she dished out orders for the day. The squeak of wood against the stone floor only made the quiet that had fallen between them more potent.

The back of the chair nudged into Mira’s hip where she partially leaned over it, but Mira didn’t take it. She just stood there hovering over the flier. “Three hours.” She seethed through her teeth.

Mira felt the eyes of the few young soldiers on them from the other end of the long table that hadn’t made themselves scarce when she had approached. Maybe she should care. She was making a scene, surely. But she really, really, couldn’t find it in her to calm down. Not after Teine’s words about being looked after.

She shouldn’t need to be looked after. She didn’t . Not by anyone. Not for a long time.

To have her professionalism, her competence, questioned like that– for Syrena to be the one to see her as someone to look after… Now not only was she hurt to have been deceived she was also embarrassed– which she would have recognized if she’d taken a moment to think about the source of her anger… but pausing to feel anything was so far from Mira’s wheelhouse it wasn’t even funny.

She’d rather meet Malek.

Syrena had the audacity to roll her eyes as she pushed the chair toward Mira with her foot again and turned her attention to the soldiers at the other end of the table. “Sorry. She’s not much of a morning person without her coffee.”