Reincarnation | General Kirigan

!chapter 6!

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Her plump lips were prayed together as she listened and studied the two men that sat across from her. The friendlier looking one, with combed back black hair, seemed almost giddy yet nervous with her while the other, bald man seemed stone face despite her. Seraphine's face was like his, resting bitch face on so they didn't what she was feeling.

Betrayed.

Upset.

Scared.

Uncertain of herself now.

Around her shoulders were still wrapped in the red kefta that she had woken up with. Her hand lifted up to feel the ridges of her birthmark below her ear, finding some sort of comfort in it as Fern used to do this to her, to calm either of them.

Fern liked keeping her mind off things and focus on something else (tracing the birthmark) while Seraphine liked touch. She watched though as the nicer looking of the two men nudged the other in the arm, gesturing to her.

The bald man rolled his eyes before saying, "This is Fedyor."

"Pleasure to meet you, Phoenix." He spoke eagerly, his hands fiddling together because of his nerves. She glanced up from his hands, bringing down her own from her neck and said in return, "Seraphine is fine."

"Alright then." Despite his attempt at keeping it cool in front of her, the smile on his face became even more exited, if that was possible. He turned to his boyfriend and whispered to him, "She said I could call her Seraphine!" Like a child that was on a sugar high.

"I know, Fedyor. I have been sitting here the whole time." He said annoyed.

Fedyor had watched her play with the edges of the coat around her. "They call this a kefta.
It's-"

"Bulletproof. The uniform of the Second Army, I'm aware." Even through her body's sweating at the moment and hot to the touch, she kept the specialized coat around her body.

"Oh. So you know about our culture than?"

"Just whispers that I have heard around time. Just as much as we know all the way out here." She explained. Though she knew about the fashion they wore and the different types of Grisha they had, she had never heard of the Phoenix. Was it a type of Saint? They didn't really have much religion in their little town so she didn't really know a lot.

Her and Feydor talked a little, her expression barely changing from the cold look on her face that she shared with the other man, who's name she still didn't know. He told her about the Fjerda, or drüskelle more specifically, causing her to ask,

"Why are there so little of us traveling if there are people trying to capture me?"

"It may be safer, but slower." The bald man said, having been ignoring them this whole time and looking out the window instead.

She nodded, understanding now but only about this one thing. Everything else in her life had been messed up in the past she-didn't-even-fucking-know-the-amount of hours. She didn't know what she was, saying that she was the Phoenix did not help explain anything to her, and she didn't know why Fern would use her weak point to make her pass out when everything was inches away from going back to normal.

Well, at least in Seraphine's mind, everything would go back to normal.

"How long was I out?"

"Three hours." Yet again, another reply from the angry man.

"You seem confused about your purpose with us. With Grisha kind." He said with a small, but confused, smile.