Zafira brows knitting with mild worry as the distant muffled echo of raised voices slipped from the obsidian palace. Even here—on a floating island surrounded by gardens and fog—the tension was impossible to ignore.
"Well…" she murmured, brushing a hand through her hair, "I think I should go back to my family before my father walks out of the meeting. And I'm sure my mother is already wondering where I disappeared to. I left without saying anything—just told them I needed some air—and I've been gone for a while."
Trafalgar shifted his weight against the railing, hands buried in his pockets. "Alright. I'll stay around here a bit longer. I don't exactly feel like going back to mine."
Zafira smiled, small and understanding—the kind of smile someone only gives when they already know the answer. "I figured. Well, I guess I'll see you at the academy, Trafalgar… or I hope so, unless they shut it down first."
He snorted lightly. "It shouldn't close. So we'll meet again soon."
