Jordan didn't see Nadir walking away, but she heard his footsteps recede. There was a small part of her that felt like following, seeing the body for herself. Why, she couldn't think of a reason. It certainly wasn't for the purpose of convincing her, but it felt heavier than simple morbid curiosity.
Small, though, and easily lost in the murky numbness creeping over her. Rhys and Ezra were following the berserker. They could be following him to their deaths, not just from the greycloaks or XDAV, but from the very conflict they were trying to end. They were soft. They were weak. They were guild leaders, but against what? Even a new trainee, less than a year into their respective guilds could probably outmaneuver them. The difference wasn't power or authority, but experience.
Against that, Nadir's sword lessons meant precious little.
"Fuck," she said again, falling into a crouch. A rekindled sense of worry, warped into an anger, but they were embers, fading as quickly as they had come.
"Idiot!" she hissed, slamming the floor with her fist. She thought of Rhys first, but realized she felt the same of Ezra. "Idiots!"
But no, she wasn't angry at them. They were jumping into a huge unknown. What if they ended up like the previous Ahura, dying in an alleyway? Like the previous Spenta, in a fucking kitchen?
Jordan shoved herself up, inhaling deeply to quell the growing turmoil in her stomach. Another "fuck" was released in the exhale, but it was the last; she began to walk away, to the kitchen.
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Small, though, and easily lost in the murky numbness creeping over her. Rhys and Ezra were following the berserker. They could be following him to their deaths, not just from the greycloaks or XDAV, but from the very conflict they were trying to end. They were soft. They were weak. They were guild leaders, but against what? Even a new trainee, less than a year into their respective guilds could probably outmaneuver them. The difference wasn't power or authority, but experience.
Against that, Nadir's sword lessons meant precious little.
"Fuck," she said again, falling into a crouch. A rekindled sense of worry, warped into an anger, but they were embers, fading as quickly as they had come.
"Idiot!" she hissed, slamming the floor with her fist. She thought of Rhys first, but realized she felt the same of Ezra. "Idiots!"
But no, she wasn't angry at them. They were jumping into a huge unknown. What if they ended up like the previous Ahura, dying in an alleyway? Like the previous Spenta, in a fucking kitchen?
Jordan shoved herself up, inhaling deeply to quell the growing turmoil in her stomach. Another "fuck" was released in the exhale, but it was the last; she began to walk away, to the kitchen.