Libelle

24 | The Sentiment

"And here I thought we'd never see each other again, Miss Salcrest," Norren said as soon as Arya emerged from his door blocked by plastic screens.

Arya smirked, settling into the cushioned seat he gestured to. "Gloating doesn't suit you, Norren," she smoothed her skirt from her backside down to her legs. She crossed her legs at the ankles, driving the tip of her boot straight into the tufts of the carpet muffling the office's floorboards. She fixed the strap of her purse against her shoulders and propped the purse on her lap.

The office was surprisingly simple, away from the grandiose halls and mansions she always imagined the Civil Hall to look like from the inside. Instead of marble walls, polished wood boxed them inside. Instead of a throne made of gold and other precious metals, Norren sat on a high-backed and cushioned chair mounted on a brace with at least five wheeled arms. It was the same chair the prefects in the Postal Quarters use.

His desk was littered with the most ordinary of things too. Steel-tipped pens jutted from a bronze cup beside a stack of paper bound together by metal rings. Wrappers of what could have been lunch taken out of the restaurant were set aside upon her entry. On Norren's right, racks of file cabinets and magazine sorters closed off the area, making it unoperational.

Shelves filled the office, but unlike the pleasing order of the cafe Norren brought her to, these were bursting through the seams with titles in disarray. Random sheets of paper or even whole envelopes stuck out from various places. Books were either stored horizontally or vertically, resulting in a chaotic painting. Arya was horrified by that single book leaning against a stack of dark leather bounds, slowly deforming the spine and getting it stuck in its twisted spread forever. Wasn't Norren going to do something about that? Didn't he love books?

"If it's not rude to ask," Norren said, taking her attention from the shelves and the apparent horror of their state. Instead, he brought it to the wide window behind him, showing her a complete view of the west-side of the Civil Hall and this angle of Aldermere. "What brings you here, to my office?"

Arya's fingers played with the hem of her gloves. It's a miracle those guards at the lobby even let her in. They didn't even make sure she was human before letting her proceed through the vast corridors and step into the squeaky, geometric tiles. Had the humans become so complacent that they didn't think a fae could camouflage themselves and slip through? Did they think they've succeeded in oppressing fae they could readily assume each one knew where to and not to go?

"Whatever you're planning to do with that bill, forget it," Arya said.

Norren raised an eyebrow. "What bill are we talking about? The Revision of the Merchant's Charter?" he said. "I'm afraid I can't just go and 'forget it' because it's going to benefit my colleagues. Trading is a tricky job, after all. We need clear guidelines and the ones we have now are not fit with the times anymore. So much can change in a hundred years, don't you think?"

Arya narrowed her eyes. Did Norren just switch on his politician gear just because he was inside the Civil Hall? What's up with that? "I didn't mean that. I couldn't care less about what you do with the merchants," she exhaled through her nose. "What I meant is the Equality of Rights."

A shadow fell over Norren's face but he didn't lose the kind stare he had been giving Arya since she entered the office. "Are you a representative of the fae?" he asked, his tone falling into a quiet but honed edge.

Arya knitted her eyebrows. "Sorry?"

"I asked," Norren twined his fingers over his table as she wheeled his chair closer to it. A series of clk-clk-clk sounds rumbled in the air. "If you are a representative of the fae. Well?"

She opened her mouth then closed it. "Yes," she frowned. "No. Maybe. I don't know."

He merely nodded. It was the same thing the upstarts in the human section of the Postal Quarters did whenever they listened to complaints and other issues. Arya hated seeing it on Norren. She hated this messy office. She hated the Civil Hall.

"Don't you think it's a little selfish of you to try and halt the help you and hundreds of thousands of fae will be getting?" Norren said. His tone wasn't haughty but Arya didn't like the words pouring out of his mouth nevertheless.

"People won't be happy if you push through it," Arya insisted. "I read the prints, the opinion section included in them. They don't think highly of you and the bill."

Norren shrugged. "So what?"

Arya couldn't believe she was even this reply from him. " 'So what'?" she echoed. "Stop acting tough, Norren. We both know how dangerous people can become if their safety is threatened. They're scared of us. They won't ever see us as equals."

"I do," his voice was quiet, like a gentle bubbling of a brook next to Arya's raging waves. "And a lot of other humans do as well. I'm not alone in this fight, Arya. I appreciate your concern, but you really don't need to worry. I'm alright. I will be."

"What is this, then?" Arya waved her arms at the vague space around them. "Pity? Think you're so above all of us that you deserve to be at the helm? Are you the representative of the fae, Norren?"

"Miss Salcrest," he said sharply. "Did you come here to cause a scene or to air a grievance? Please make it clear because I cannot entertain you for long. I have a meeting in about fifteen minutes."

Arya had never stood up that fast in all her life. Black spots even began dancing in her vision. "Then, I'll take my leave," she said, striding towards the door. She was about to twist the knob when her fingers locked. Her legs refused to move, more unsaid words fighting to get out first through her mouth. So, she turned back to Norren who hadn't moved from his desk. "If you're doing it for me, please stop," she said. "This is your life. You have to live it. Don't throw it away like this."

Norren shook his head in a way that's not mocking. "I'm doing it for you and for many others," he said. "I'm doing it so that you will have a safe place to exist, to live, to fall in love. I'm doing it so others wouldn't be so afraid of being with whomever they wished. So that no one may experience what we did. That's why."

Arya clenched her jaw, her fingers clutching the strap of the purse so hard she was certain her fingers would leave dented arcs on the leather. She twisted the knob and yanked the door open.

"Arya," Norren's gentle tone and the way her name sounded from his tongue made her pause. Made her hesitate. She glanced at him from her shoulder. He was smiling, albeit a little sadly. "It's fine if we can't be together. If that's what you prefer, then I'll gladly cooperate. But I won't stop fighting for what I believe is right."

She didn't reply. She couldn't, anyway.

Norren ducked his head at her. "It's really nice to see you again, Arya," he said. "I mean it."

Arya blinked. And blinked again. She loitered by the door longer than she wanted to because these stupid tears kept getting in the way. Before she could embarrass herself further, she slipped out of the door, leaving Norren's sentiment unanswered.

Mostly because she didn't know how to.