She led them further into the room, quietly leading them into the empty dining room and. Somewhere in the cramped kitchen behind them— and oh did she remember that kitchen— she could hear the sound of a kettle reaching a boil.

It was… normal.

That almost scared her.

She sat the two of them at a table seemingly at random, then left to grab the tea and left them alone. Avyr glanced askance at her, the dim light in the wide room playing strangely off his fur and making him look far scarier than he actually did. “Is she… usually like this?” The moment he spoke though, the spell was broken, returning him to just… normal, usual Avyr. She almost laughed at the sudden incongruity— it was just the sort of thing she needed to keep her mind off the other topic at hand.

“No.” She shook her head. “No, not at all—” the thought had to be put on hold, though, as the Matron walked out of the kitchen with two mugs of tea and a glass of milk, curls of steam visibly escaping all three in the dim light.

They clinked, as she set them down on the table, the aromas of them gently mixing into a pleasant whole. “I like to present the image of infallibility to the wards under my care. I’ve learnt, over the sixty years I’ve served East Saffron in charge of this orphanage, that I cannot do everything, but I can be the bedrock to my children— I can be their resolute support, their final redoubt wherein even should the sky shatter and the heavens judge, they would still be safe.” She paused, to spit her tea, clearly waiting for the others to do the same. It was… good tea. Avyr looked rather enamored with his milk, amusingly enough… the Matron sighed, which instantly took the amusement from the moment. “The problem is, that’s not true.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” The Matron raised an eyebrow, and Lily felt like a little kid again, being scolded after she’d snuck candies up to her room. “Has it truly sunk in for you that whatever scheme you’ve planned up with Avyr, if you get yourself hurt outside of East Saffron there’s nothing I can do for you? That in the grand scheme of things, I’m only a single Shedding cultivator in the poorest district of a single city, in a single area of a single subcontinent, in the whole vastness that is reality.” It was an almost incomprehensible enormity, and…

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She realized, sitting there, sipping her tea, that she hadn’t really considered it. Sure, academically, she knew that if she got stabbed or whatever in amongst the Dragonspine peaks she wasn’t going to be able to ask the Matron to slap a bandaid on it and make it better. It wasn’t just that, though. If they got skewered by some rampaging spirit beast or fell prey to some natural disaster, she might never see her again. Not her, nor any of her friends, or even Mingtian…

It was a sobering thought.

Except—

Except. She glanced at Avyr, who glanced back at her, in that single moment of connection a reminder of everything they shared— their great purpose, in union— together their drive to surpass. “I understand the sentiment, she began slowly,” but— “but, I can’t turn back now. Not when I’m so close.” She tensed, expecting a rebuttal or a reprimand or something

, not the— silence.

For a long moment, the Matron said nothing, before just… nodding. “I understand. As I said before— I’m not an immortal, I don’t know everything, and that extends to the choices you make as well. In all honesty, you’re different than anyone who’s come through this orphanage before. Even before you started learning formations, you were already the most dedicated ward I’d ever had, and now…” she sipped her tea in lieu of a shrug. “It’s been centuries since anyone from the 32nd Precinct got into the sect. Nobody thought it was possible… but, with what you’ve done? With what you will do?” A smile ghosted across the Matron’s face— bitter and infinitely sad, and so— “proud, of you. I’m so very proud of you Lily. Go forth, and… remember where you came from, alright?”

Then, before Lily could speak around the block in her throat, the Matron stood, grabbed her cup of tea, and walked away— leaving the two of them alone in the austere dining room. The old wood paneling, so slightly peeling, the dim lighting, the— impossibility of what she’d just heard. The room swam before her, until Avyr placed a paw gently on her arm and clawed her back to calm. Figuratively.

“She said…” unsteady breath, touch of a tear, a sob half bidden— “she said she was proud of me.” She’d said it before, but… never truly. Never in the way that said she truly believed in her.

It was a strange marvel. She didn’t even know if she liked it.

“You deserve it.” Avyr’s gentle voice shocked her back to the present. “We were going to go somewhere, though, and if we want to catch the train…” he snickered as Lily pushed at him, feigning toppling over— though Lily knew full well that even if she used all her strength, she wouldn’t be able to so much as shove him more than an inch.

It was just… fun.

A moment between friends—

Shared.

On the precipice of a strange journey.