The cold air brought by the relentless winter seemed incomparable to the cold generated by Minerva's own body.
Her breath trembled, her hands gripped her bangs. She stared at the ground, unable to look anywhere else.
Standing in front was a junior in her third year, her silky silver hair trailed down her shoulders, and her golden eyes averted from Minerva's.
"Agnes.. You..aren't kidding, right?" The shakiness in her voice seemed to catch even Agnes off-guard.
Even so, she nodded. "I'm not joking, Ms. Grosvenor."
The weaknesses evident in their voices were simply uncharacteristic.
"Zephyr is dead."
"..."
"..."
The more the silence grew, the density in the air thickened.—So did the impossible weight threatening to slam her to the ground from her shoulders.
Such was the predicament Minerva Grosvenor found herself in, battling the torrent of tears blurring her vision.
Even as her knees trembled and forced her to sit on the raised floor, she was still unwilling to show such vulnerability to the junior before her.—So she gulped it all down for just a moment. "..Thank you for telling me." She'd hoped to say it louder, but the weakness was all she could muster. "If that's all.. You may leave now."
"As you wish." The tap of her shoes distanced, disappearing completely by the shut of the door.
"..Zephyr is.." She couldn't continue. The more she spoke, it only squeezed her heart.
Taking her hands off, she noticed the soak in the edges of her white gloved-palms. She gasped as if completely surprised, even more when droplets fell continuously.
Why was she crying? She couldn't think. She could only shut her teary eyes once more, gasping, hyperventilating as if suffocating.
Ah, she knew exactly why now.
Her first student, Zephyr van Doren, is dead.
Looking back, she always kept an eye on that girl, perhaps excessively so.
Perhaps it was the bond they formed over the course of months.
Maybe it was some sort of confidence she fuelled unto her, that some looked up to her for who she really was, beyond her title.
Or even, it was because she was a window to those who are strong, yet weak.—Weak, yet strong.
The rugged breaths and the whimpers that filled her once confident voice echoed around the sizable temple within the academy.
Behind her, two mighty statues of stone carved to perfection, resembled a man and a woman, the whirls of water wrapped around their figures like extensions of their bodies.
That's right, she was paying respect and worship to her gods, [Aegir and Marella]. Could the same still be said if she faced away, grieving as if she was in some private room?
Despite the utter weakness, she rose and turned around.
That's right, she was in a place of worship, and a place of communication. If that was the case, then she could ask.
With clenched fists and a resentful gaze, she looked up the mighty statues. "You two.. You're the [Deities of Water Magic], right..?"
"..."
"If so.. Then isn't it your job to protect all who follow your footsteps..?"
Unable to handle their utter silence, she yelled at the top of her lungs. "..THEN WHY COULDN'T YOU TWO DO THE SAME FOR ZEPHYR!?!"
She stomped her foot. "ANSWER ME, YOU DIMWITS AND SELF-PROCLAIMED GODS!!!" Her voice bounced against the high ceiling as if the gods themselves spoke. Alas, they didn't seem willing to entertain her.
Still without a reply, she dropped to her knees.
A whirlwind of questions flooded her mind; of Zephyr, her vulnerability, the rudeness she showed before the gods she worshipped.
Were they truly watching over their followers? Why would such a kind soul, and faithful follower like Zephyr not be spared? Despite the turmoil, she jumbled them all into one main question.
"Aegir, Marella.. How will I tell Sévir and Sanguinex..?"
.
.
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*