Sivvy wasn't usually one to keep up with Sorcerer's Magazine unless it had something in her friends about it or some other kind of info that might be useful in Dies Irae's goals. However, this last issue that she'd picked up was for a more selfish reason. When that reporter had come calling about her interactions with Thana, the woman had found herself...conflicted. Not only did someone know about something she'd made exactly three people promise not to talk about, but it implied that the reporter had spoken to the very subject of some very complex feelings Sivvy didn't yet know how to filter through. The clone was still trying to come to terms with whether her life was something her decommissioned mind had crafted for her like some sort of twisted afterlife, of if Thana had just been a very crafty trickster. Sivvy waffled back and forth constantly on the matter, sometimes feeling her friends were real and clinging to the idea, while others she was in abject misery thinking everything was a lie and nothing mattered, wondering if it was okay to pretend that her made-up life was real to comfort herself. What did she believe? She had no idea. It didn't help that it had all just happened, and Artemis wasn't around for her to try and talk it through.
Sivvy just wasn't in a good place. Not that anyone would really know.
When she'd opened the colorful pages to the interview, she noticed that while her side was sparse, her nemesis had been quite chatty. Something deep within her twisted as she read the words so glib. Her breathing quickened when she read Thana's version of what happened, trying to figure out why her chest tightened as her failure was outed to the world. There was no real point in asking her friends to keep her shame a secret. How...weak. She was so weak. Sivvy was disgusted with herself, and she hadn't felt that since not long after she'd left Dr. Raelin.
But then she read the last part. The passed along message left Sivvy visibly confused, which was quite the feat. Even after reading it once, she blinked her squinted eyes, rubbed them, brought the page closer, and read it again. Aloud, this time. "Please pass along to your darling protégé Nathaniel that I had a wonderful time at our impromptu date in Crocus the other night," she started, brows knitting together as she went silent for a moment, reading the next line before she spoke again. ".... 'our daughter'...?"
Sivvy was quiet in her room for a long time after that, staring out of her window and trying to figure out how to process this information. She felt something similar to what'd she'd felt in the Unknown Lands that one time she'd watched one of her clones mess with Artemis, but it wasn't quiet the same. It wasn't as fiery and uncontrollable, yet felt bad on some other level she couldn't put her thumb on. She and her mentee had never been exceptionally close, if only because she had a difficult time bonding with her guildmates with the exception of Johann and Amalie, whom she'd made friends with back in the WFTC. Being a leader was a difficult enough challenge that it made her already strained personable skills even more frosty. Still, knowing that Nathaniel had had relations with the only person outside her sisters that she had heavy conflict with was... disappointing? That didn't seem like the right word. And just thinking about Thana messing with her mentee made the hairs stick up on the back of her neck and her jaw clench. She was pretty sure that she was feeling anger...toward both of them, even if it was somehow different between the two.
The knock at the door was heard, but not answered. Her enhanced sense of smell had picked him up before he even reached her dorm. Sivvy didn't really want to see him-- or anyone-- right now, yet still her unlocked door creaked open and her treacherous mentee spoke. The pinkette didn't even turn when he mentioned cake, which had to be a first. "Set it over there," she said flatly, meaning the table in front of the couch. Or any surface really. She didn't care. The magazine was still rolled in her hands, being idly twisted in them as her mind wandered.
The mention of the letter required her direct attention, though. The Ambassador turned, her strained crimson hues settling on him. "Let me see," she said, concise as ever and ignoring his anxiousness.
[wc: 765 || total: 1186]