Tea Time

"Warchief," came the address from Katra. It was a commentary on Selina's actions, a stern warning of the responsibilities and perils to come, and just perhaps, a sign of pride and approval. Maybe. Hopefully.

"Join us for tea."

The witches built for themselves a tower, fairly homely and ordinary in its furnishings, but of course, far larger inside than out. It provided for all of their domestic needs, including those of the children that once were, but Selina couldn't claim to know every inch of it despite growing up there. After all, it changes and evolves, according to their need, and according to its own whim. But a constant for at least her whole life was a cozy sitting room around a hearth, where the three would take tea and discuss anything from state matters to eldritch secrets to disciplining wayward children. Sometimes it was okay to be there, finding a spot in the corner and just feeling safe, and sometimes they had serious grownup conversations that were only for them.

This was one of those. And she was invited.

It was silly to be amazed, and giddy, and a little frightened. She was the warchief, after all. If anything, they owed it to her to deliver vital intelligence in a timely manner. Enemies were at the gates of this very city, and blood had been shed mere hours ago. And yet, in this moment, Selina was a child again, brought to this unthinkable threshold, beyond which she would be a peer to her illustrious mother, her war-glorious aunt, and...okay, probably not the other one.

For a pregnant moment, the three stood on the inside, watching and waiting, and she paused at the doorway. On the other side, she would truly be the Warchief. And, she suspected, she would be forever entering a new world, a darker and more dangerous world, and there would be no turning back.

Inevitabily, she crossed over.

The door shut behind her, and as if the substantial privacy wards on the entire tower weren't enough, the walls were immediately lined with a white haze of abjuration magic, built by three grand witches upon a threshold, upon an even larger city-sized ward. Sul Katesh herself couldn't pierce it with her spells.

Good thing, as she was likeliest to want to try.

The ceremony was, as ever, meticulous, thorough, and non-negotiable. Tea is serious business, after all. And it was good tea, naturally. Complex, keeping its secrets even against the practiced palate, stimulating the mind and ever so slightly taking the edge off her fatigue.

Gods, I'm so tired. When did I become such a lightweight? It's just two days.

When the tea was ready, the women sipped, and let it work its magic. Maenya's body, subject to unfathomable punishment by an even more unthinkable foe yet to be named, was soothed by its warmth. Katra's voice, her weapon of mass destruction and even greater creation, braced itself for the grand speeches yet to come, with the tea's help. And Teraza, ever seeking, ever introspecting, looked to the tea for hints from the Divine about the future. No doubt her habit steered the course that had led them all to this moment.

The silence was deafening. But, as ever, it was understood that the first speaker would be who it always was. And her first word, as ever, would have been carefully chosen for maximum impact and meaning.

"Daughter," addressed Katra, with a subtle note of worry, a tinge of fear and sympathy, and maybe even a little judgment and disappointment.

And as if she read ahead a few pages, Teraza butted in, "Oh, leave that be. We have matters of state to attend to." Her words said what they said, but her gaze spoke volumes. The Divine only knew what disagreements the two had had in the past, how many perhaps uncountable similar situations sprang to mind. No doubt her mother had some questions and comments about her choices, and no doubt she would hear about it, but...it was quite true that the choices were made, and other matters need come first.

"Warchief," she corrected, and with an almost imperceptible shift in her body and voice, the entire tenor of the conversation changed. And just like that, Selina wasn't a wayward daughter in need of guidance, she wasn't a child in need of protection and reassurance. She was a general, with powers, and privileges, and terrible responsibilities. Who may die, and who could be replaced. And some part of her longed to go back.

"I owe you an explanation." She managed to say it to both warchiefs, and Selina chastised herself for forgetting how wronged Maenya had been by all of this. And in that moment, felt the oddest sense of kinship with her--not that they weren't kin and blood, of course, but the odd part was that she had a rush of instinctual desire to leap to her defense, like she were a sister or best friend. Not a terrifying, overwhelmingly powerful, tough-as-nails warrior woman. This was the first moment in her life that her aunt seemed as humble and human as she. However human I actually am, I guess... came a cynical note from her subconscious.

"It's never been a secret that Gasmelter was scheming against us. But something changed--he was smarter and more careful than usual. He had to be getting help. I knew months ago that a conspiracy was brewing, but I needed to know who was involved. To draw out the corruption, I needed them to believe that they were getting away with it."

"So you had to abandon us," Maenya spat, making no effort to soften her tone. She was hurt. She'd been scared. It was all there in her voice, in her eyes. Losing a war would be bad, dying would suck, but her sisters being killed or worse--it was truly a wound that cut her deep, as no weapon ever could. Selina had no doubt that Maenya had truly been in the dark throughout this whole affair.

"I...needed them to believe. There was no other way."

Maenya didn't say anything--assuming smashing a teacup onto a wooden endtable with enough force not only to destroy the cup, but indeed to splinter the endtable itself, well assuming that isn't saying something.

"There is no better way to draw out our enemies than-"

"Just name them, and I will crush them. Anywhere in the world, any defenses, I will bring death to our enemies, as I've always done, as I will do as long as my heart still beats, sister!"

"Girls, girls," came Teraza's calming voice, as she still peered questioningly into the teacup. "Katra, say you're sorry. Maenya, apologize for breaking my teacup."

As if they weren't earth-shatteringly powerful witches, nigh immortal queens of a mighty realm, and, you know, grown women centuries removed from childhood, both looked appropriately chastened, battling first with their own ego, then their better judgment kicking in. Katra was first.

"I'm so, so sorry Mimi. If I thought there was anything else-"

She was interrupted by a grip powerful enough to rend steel, a crushing force like a black hole, restraint abandoned. Maenya was...crying. She was vulnerable. She was embracing her sister, and the unbearable weight she'd carried, the need to stand strong, to be invincible in the eyes of the people, to be the Warchief and not a sister...it was gone. The dam had burst, and a torrent of emotion had been unleashed.

There was nothing for it. Warchief or no, even if she'd slept a wink in the last 48 hours, she couldn't have held back her feelings. Her mother could have been dead, or worse. The foundation of her life, the firmament of all her self-confidence, the immutable laws of the Universe--it all threatened to come crashing down if her mother, if any of them, were truly mortal. The terror had been too great to face, but the debt of shutting it out came due all at once.

There was no way of knowing how long she held on to the two of them, how many tears she let loose. Her mother was alive, her auntie had survived, and the Divine damn it, it was the right time for tears.

"I'm sorry about your teacup," Maenya said with a laugh, but Teraza only nodded sagely. Even now, it seemed, the eldest was still above it all, her stoicism silently chastising the other three. In that way all children are united in their sure knowledge that they're the cool ones, that they're "in", the three took their reassured humanity more as a point of pride than a judgment from above.

"I should have said more. I should have done more. But they almost outmaneuvered us. And I've figured out why. Who was helping them. Why they were so effective." Katra explained, wiping away a few stray tears. She turned to Selina, looking for all the world like a mother, like a human being with a beating heart, and not some implacable goddess or lofty queen. Truly, she was on the level, she was trusted, and respected. If she hadn't depleted every ounce of tears, Selina would have made a fool of herself. But she managed, in her estimation, to seem worthy of it, implacable as steel, just like her mothers. Acting!

"It's time to tell you...about your father."