Mere Advice, Nothing More (Cyrus, Nif)

"I almost made a mistake, maybe love... Just isn't for me." The thought came unbidden to the Elect as she looked out the large open window of her office, her eyes shimmering with undertones of shadow silver, highlighted by hints of steel, and a glimmer of platinum from the refractory rays of light that gleamed upon them. The smell of brine was thick in the air, and the cry of gull's warbled against the distant crashing of waves against the artificial piers of the city of light. A gentle breeze tangled her snow-white hair, which she thoughtlessly tucked a stray lock of behind her ear.

Documents lay neatly piled on the right-hand side of her desk, by an old ink brush that she used to ink out her signatures in classic brush-strokes. On the left, a book: Great Expectations, lay ajar, a dog-eared page showing where she had just left off. The elect raised an arm straight over her head, her other arm coming around to stretch it across her form. Niflheim had just finished catching up with the mountain of wartime papers that she had to file, and intelligence notes on the happenings of the war front which all lay neatly organized by importance, and necessity on her desk in manilla folders.

Today she was in her standard attire, the Quincy bangles that hung from her ears, and the ethereal white dress she wore emblazoned by the symbol of their race; the thin see-through netting which overlay her skirt was neatly tucked away, her clothing was spotless. Her head would turn from looking out the window when she heard a sharp rapping on her door.

"Come in." Her voice was soft, mild-mannered and neutral, carrying with it an air of aristocracy; However, that air did not stem from superiority, but rather from the impassivity, and the reality that lay behind the inflection of tone that carried across the room. It was simply kind and betrayed no emotion beyond that tempered kindness.

A small smile blossomed on the face of the Elect upon seeing her Sternritter Grandmaster. It was not a full, measured smile, but one that was of appropriate expression for that of a superior meeting one of their confidants. Cyrus went into a long-winded speech on his apologies for his extended absence, one that would be cut short by the elect raising a hand to stifle a laugh at her uptight comrade, returning to a state of emotional mildness as she brought those shimmering eyes to gaze upon one of her hopefuls for the future of the Quincy race.

"It's quite alright Cyrus, I'm more than used to doing this amount of paperwork, the small amount that came for your absence was negligible, considering the benefit of having you out in the war front. " Niflheim's statement was gentle, flowing like the sea breeze that tousled her hair, and cooled the room with its mild warmth.

Niflheim's back was poise, everything about her from the faint way she nodded her head, and the way her eyes studied her Sternritter thoughtfully as he spoke of Stefan's departure aided the sense of etherealness about her. While she would not outwardly verbalize a similarity in opinion about the Soan's departure, she would offer her grandmaster some sound advice.

"The Soan, while not beneficial for our race, does mean well. It seems like he is actively making strides to better himself. While I do not agree with his viewpoint, I can admire him for that one aspect of himself." Dislike, or happy was not a term she often coined when it came to the Quincy people. Only betterment or detriment in the grand scheme of things was something that mattered. It was one of the things that she wished to impress upon Cyrus, that their own personal views did not matter when it came to the leadership of the Quincy people, only the progression of their race was what mattered.

"Have a seat Cyrus, have some tea. " The elect spoke, raising herself fluidly from her chair in a motion that seemed to carry with it, the mild dignity that embodied the Quincies leader. Her steps brought her to an ornate kettle that lay within a glass armoir. She would open a jar next to the tea kettle, picking out a few leaves of green tea, freshly dried, and put them inside the kettle.

From there, it looked like she had just put her palm upon the kettle, while in fact she had used her control over reishi to embed the concepts of condensation, and boiling onto the tea kettle. This led to the water in the air rapidly cooling and filling the kettle, before the second concept would boil it, steeping the tea, and filling the room with the aroma. She would grab two porcelain cups, bringing them over with the tea kettle before setting them all down on the desk. Going back, she grabbed two coasters and a glass jar of sugar cubes.

Niflheim would pour each of them a glass, bringing hers to rest cradled between her palms as she looked out the window. While Niflheim was Looking out the window, Cyrus might notice a few small cues that not all was right with the elect. The faint, dull look in her gaze that spoke of sorrow, or the way her shoulders seemed more tense than usual. Or maybe even, the way her fingers pressed against her cup, and the momentary tremor that would run through the glass-still tea within her cup. Or maybe, the fact that she had invited him in for tea when often their meetings were brief, concise, and about instruction, learning, and planning. Whatever the case, it was clear something was amiss with the Elect, and maybe, just maybe, by inviting him in, she could be hinting she would like him to break the ice. Of course, most of this would only be theoretically understood, maybe Cyrus could pick up the differences if he was focused on reading her.

"There are sugar cubes if you want Cyrus, I know tea can be quite bitter, but it reminds me of my homeland." Niflheim said, that gentle smile once more surfacing upon her lips, as she made eye contact with the Sternritter Grandmaster once more.