The Nuit was meditating. She did that a lot when she was home. Meditation was one of her favorite pastimes, now. It kept her calm, helped her to relax, and to forget her worries... of which there were many. Sometimes, after focusing her mind, she would be able to return to memories that she usually didn't dare touch, to try to inspect them while it wouldn't hurt too badly. Other times, she would practice a little Reimancy, nothing fancy. Trying to levitate pieces of paper, creating those little twisters to sweep the floor, that sort of thing... and those tasks usually went well enough. Trying to light a candle, though... she could never do it. The simplest task, simply causing a wick to burst into flame. Nothing. Or trying --and failing-- to tease the flames in the hearth into different shapes. It was somewhat distressing to her whenever she was unable to perform even the easiest tasks concerning fire Reimancy. She seemed to have no affinity for fire whatsoever. Her constant failures were as exhausting and disheartening as they had been so long ago, studying under the Burned Man. Fire had come so naturally to him...
There was a knock at the door, and Isolde felt herself drawn from her meditation, mouth turning down, eyes searching her side of the door as if it might decide to speak, announcing who could possibly be knocking, and at this hour. Worry soon set in though it was a blunted thing; her concern struggling to make itself known in a mind that had been purposefully trying to meditate that concern away. Who could that be? She didn't really have anyone who would come over. And especially not at night. Her mind tried to draw up the possibilities, and the only thing she could think was Knights. It was the Knights. Somehow they'd figured out that she had-- had helped Kouri and Rena. Or... or they'd figured out about the poison lesson yesterday with Ninus and Isalie and Ivandra. Or worse, they had spoken to a witness who had seen her and Hadyn and Shiress fleeing the scene of a murder/assault at the Spinning Coin, and just now they had decided to pick up the Nuit and escort her to her execution, deportation, or other sort of trail, whichever came. She looked hurriedly around her room, but there was no place to hide besides under the bed, no windows to leap from, and what was the point of all that, anyways? One didn't resist the Knights... not if they knew what was good for them, or only if they were seriously desperate.
Okay. She would just have to... to let them in. The Nuit stood, calling uncertainly out, "C-Coming..." She looked around the room once more. Once it had been covered in cobwebs, and could have used a good scrubbing. Ever since starting her job at Undeniable Interests, though, Isolde had taken to a little home-cleaning. She saw enough dirt, dust, and grime at work, after all, and since she wasn't allowed to tidy up there... well, here would have to do. She couldn't help the lack of furniture or ornamentation, decoration. Isolde wasn't one for company. There was a plain wooden table and a rickety chair pulled up to the hearth, and a chest tucked alongside one wall. There was also a lumpy bed, now neatly-made and completely uncreased, the Nuit not having any need for rest of any sort, and besides. Lying or sitting on the bed made her feel strange. It was too... homey. In a weird sort of way. She preferred the warmth of the fire on her dead flesh, a more welcome reminder of home.
But she was dallying. Whoever was on the other side of the door was going to get impatient, and she didn't want that to happen. The Nuit hesitated a moment before picking her knapsack up off the table and setting it carefully in the chest, out of sight. It would be safer there. Then she took a deep breath, holding it in far longer than would be possible for a person who actually needed to breathe... and then opened the door.
To find not a Knight but a... a child. For a tick Wynry flickered there before her, a little girl with long, dark hair and large eyes, eyes that were that beautiful cornflower blue, the color that indicated that the young girl was at her happiest... shown when she was running through the fields and playing hide-and-seek tag with friends, or helping her mother bake and ice cakes, or learning to whittle little animal figurines with Vaughn instructing her all the while. Those two had been perfect together, the only perfection that Isolde had witnessed firsthand in their little life in Mithryn, the only utter perfection in the entire world for all she knew--
And then a chill sort of feeling crept into the Nuit, and she recognized it immediately, and Wynry was gone. And was it-- was that Kouri? The Nuit was so surprised to see the girl that she didn't sense the aura of suspicion and anger clinging to her, so surprised at having seen Wynry standing there for a moment; now the Nuit's chest had gone tight, because seeing Wynry was not okay, even if there was no way that she could ever hurt Kouri...
But what was she doing, just standing there? She should be speaking. "Kouri? T-That is you, isn't it--?" It was strange she had to ask, but the girl... her hair was black instead of white, the eyes startlingly blue instead of crimson red. And suddenly a sense of odd... fear came to the Nuit, and she took a step back on reflex. "Kouri, what a-are you doing h-here? Wh-Where's Rena? Is she... she's okay, isn't she?"