Minerva, Sitting down at table with Balthazar
Minerva had spent almost the whole night, eyes wide awake, Cryker's voice in her head, past regrets thickening the tension in her muscles and drowning the voices inside her mind, trying to tell her to forget, to move on. That blubbering old man. She'd left fingernail print in her palms, and eventually, Minerva's anger had faded from her face and she'd managed to catch a few hours of sleep. Minerva woke up at dawn as most masters did and stretched her arms and legs out. She threw on her undergarments and had breakfast in her own room, some oats, a bowl of fruit, and bread, as well as some fish.
When she was done, she put on her clothing for the day, slipped on her boots, then cinched the black leathery wrap belt for holding her sword. Her eyes always fluttered back to the lower drawer of her desk, remembering the necklace inside. Her fingers itched to touch it again, but she paid her desire no heed. Today was simply another day of business, not one for foolishness. Minerva left the room swiftly. After walking for a few down the hallway, she entered the main meeting hall and her steely gray eyes swept the corridor. It was then that she managed to spot a familiar face from yesterday.
The underground leader walked towards the mess hall with a sense of urgency. Minerva hadn't had time to chat much with the new trainer for the fighting pits; It was always nice to know a little more about him before Devon got to see his face. "Sir," she stated, her voice loud and clear, taking a seat across from Balthazar. Chitter chatter was going on around them, as well as the servants beginning to enter the mess hall as well and clean up the matter any small animal may have left behind. "What a surprise to see your face again, bright and early."