Angels, Demons, Donuts and Pixie Tea

Roles

Finley was looking incredibly amused, standing at Ferya's door, guarding it.

Murchadh never trusted things when Finley had found his sense of humour. It was the first sign that something was off as he slowed his approach, frowning at the other man, who did not move out of his way like he should have.

"She's busy." Finley offered a shrug, his features not changing from their emotionless mask of professionalism, but the laughter was there in his eyes. "All night. Urdu is in there with her, as is the shifter. And there were a lot of books involved. Riani is inside, guarding."

Murchadh glanced at the door behind him, then back to the companion who had been the biggest pain in his ass most of his life.

Finley had been mature by the time that Murchadh was born, not that a person could tell by looking at him. He looked younger than Murchadh, as if he were just entering his prime, but the man had always been ageless. He had been the drill instructor, coach, tactician, teacher, etc. to the rest of them.

What Finley had never been was a shoulder to cry on. He accepted a person's best, nothing less, and would force them to give it to him. And tears, blood or whining, no matter how hard you cried or bled, would not move him.

"Books?" The word seemed to hold meaning for Finley, though that only confused Murchadh more.

"Yes." Finley nodded, and though it appeared he wasn't about to continue, he finally relented under Murchadh's glare. "Histories of the past few centuries of council decisions from the eight realms, as well as the last thirty years concerning earth. Plus, what histories they could find on human governments."

"Why?" Despite asking, Murchadh wasn't certain, based on the hard gleam in his former teacher's eyes, if he wanted to know the answer.

Finley let out a slow breath. "Because you and the others who coddle her do her no service. You are content to value what you know she is capable of, without attempting to foster those possibilities. If she is truly your mate, Prinosa, it is your duty to push her to become more than what she limits herself to being."

Murchadh growled, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at the man, who merely blinked a couple of times, unmoved. "Ferya has been through a lot. She doesn't need pushing or fostering. She needs time to.."

"To grow?" Finley snorted, shaking his head and reaching over to pat Murchadh's stomach. "You keep letting her fall back on her safety net of baking for you, and you'll be the only one growing."

"Why do Urdu and Gavin get to help her tonight?" He snapped, clamping his mouth shut when he realized just how.... petulant... he sounded in that moment.

Finley grinned widely then, not even attempting to feign innocence. "Because you're competition. Humans have approached her and asked her to represent their interests in the council meeting tomorrow. She will be asking for consideration for one of the positions. Seeing as how she will represent Earth, that means that you and her are both looking at the same seat. Earth only has about three, maybe four."

Murchadh took a step backwards, shaking his head. "Ferya wants to sit on the council? To face off against..."

"Prinosa." Finley growled low, narrowing his eyes, all humour gone. "You are in danger of looking like an ass. You limit her, by assuming she can't hold her own against them. I suggest you take tonight to prepare your own approach to the council, and to come to terms that you need to either accept and love who Ferya really is, who she will grow to be... or you need to plan a really quick exit from her life."

The hardest part about the berating from a man who hadn't had to instruct him like this in centuries was that Finley was right.

Finley was often right.