Cold Comfort

It was nearly midnight when John returned home at last, nearly a full day's training under his belt. He was expecting the others to all be asleep, but he only made it a few steps into the house before a voice called out to him.

"Father. I thought you were only going to train on certain days?"

"It was something of an unusual circumstance this time," John admitted as Sophia stepped over to join him. "I needed to test Vallya under real combat circumstances. More importantly, I've been meaning to talk with everyone about a plan I've been discussing with Moira and Kim. Before the war, I want to make arrangements with them for a week of nonstop training."

"Nonstop? Meaning no breaks, no sleep, no rest?" Sophia asked, looking more wary than John had expected.

"That's the idea. But I'm the only one who can go without sleep or food, so I'm going to need as many people to help as possible. Twelve would be ideal so that I can have three groups of four rotating in and out, but even with everyone, it'll be a stretch, even without someone getting hurt or needing to stop early."

"Even if you sort out the numbers, are you sure that this is a good idea, Father?" Seeing Sophia looking as uncertain as she did just then was a truly rare occurrence - so rare that it almost unnerved John. He'd expected that if anyone would be on board for more training, it would be her. “You are a powerful man, and I do not doubt you, but we all have our limits. Perhaps you should pace yourself – spread the training out over a longer period of time. The others will understand shortening their days if it means you receive adequate rest and care.”

“Everyone’s days – ah, shit, I didn’t think about that either,” John said, giving a huff as the timeline came into clearer focus in his mind. “I only have time for a couple more. Yvara, Farrah, and Aclysia all deserve days still, and we’re supposed to start training in six- no, it’s after midnight, in five more days. With Springfield and regular training, if I keep my current schedule only Yvara would get a day. I can always get to Aclysia and Farrah in the two days we’ll have left after, but I might have to run off at weird times to manage the potions I’ve got brewing, if Yvara can’t take care of it. Plus the whole matter of getting things together to head out to join up with Adantia…”

“Father, I am sure that this idea comes from the best of intentions, but you risk much and gain very little by pressing yourself so hard,” Sophia warned, interrupting his thoughts before they could stray too far into minutiae. “You should moderate your training schedule.”

“Sophia, we have a war coming up,” John said, unable to keep the surprise off his face or out of his voice. “Besides, you’re usually one of the most enthusiastic about training. Heck, you told me that I’d have to learn to stop worrying about everyone else and accept that people were gonna get hurt. What’s got you worried about me taking my training more seriously?”

Sophia didn’t answer immediately. She just stared at him for a few seconds, her face slowly reddening.

“I am merely worried about you,” she insisted, looking a little flustered at John’s words. "Forgive me, it is not my place to question your plans. I am merely your servant."

John had seen that shift before. Sophia wasn't just going quiet. She was hiding her real thoughts again - just as she'd done in the kitchen. And probably many times prior, before John had noticed her discomfort.

"You're not a servant," John said. "Haven't I told you that I appreciate how much more direct you've been lately? Having one disagreement over training doesn't-"

"I am your servant," Sophia repeated, her voice a little firmer, though there was no anger in it. Only determination. "I am your blade, your soldier. I must be."

"Sophia, what's going on? I know something's been troubling you. I'm starting to think it's been going on for a while. You've been getting more forward, making your opinions more known, and I like it! I've even told you I appreciate you opening up. But lately, whenever I point that out..."

John trailed off, watching Sophia closely. She was always so stoic, but she was letting more of her emotions slip out. Her brow was furrowed slightly, her hands were clenching, and her body language had turned from a soldier's disciplined posture to the defensive stance of someone being read too well for their comfort.

"Whatever this is, we can talk about it. You know there's nothing that you have to hide from me. You're not my servant or my soldier - you're a part of this family, and I don't want you to feel like you have to close yourself off from me like this. Whatever is bothering you, we can talk about it and-"

"We are not equals, John!" Sophia blurted out, and her voice came out in a shout, a yell of frustration that was more forceful than she'd clearly intended, judging from the look of embarrassment on her face the instant after she spoke. "I should not be questioning your decisions, or telling you how you ought to behave, and yet I have. I am sorry. Please, forgive my overstep."

"I've never asked you not to," John said. "Or to see yourself as some sort of servant to me."

"You have not," Sophia acknowledged, her tone back to its normal stoicism, though it had lost all of its warmth. "And that makes this all the harder. But I know my role, and I will not overreach myself again."

John wanted to keep asking, to keep pushing the issue, to try to find the root of Sophia's problem. However, her words were final, and her posture made it clear that she would be hearing nothing further about it. She turned and left the room, heading up to the bedrooms.

John just stood there, watching her leave, his mind going over what had been said. It was obvious Sophia had issues to work out, issues that he'd either overlooked or ignored.

"Have I been too comfortable with how things are between us?" John thought, staring after her regretfully. "I noticed that she was becoming more open and direct with me... I never thought that that could be a bad thing. I never even considered she might be uncomfortable with her feelings."

But there was no doubt about it. The evidence was right there, and John felt ashamed for not picking up on it sooner. Though despite his intense introspection, John didn't miss the sound of footsteps approaching him. They came to a halt not far away, but the silence stretched on until at last, the other person cleared her throat. John turned and met Orria's gaze, the tiredness and worry in his own eyes mirrored in the elf’s.

"I heard yelling," the elven woman said. She looked like she hadn't meant to be eavesdropping. "Are you and Sophia alright?"

"I'm... not sure," John said, answering honestly. "I've upset her, somehow. Or rather, she's upset herself. Something's got her feeling conflicted."

"I think I might have noticed that," Orria admitted, sounding a little unsure of what she should or shouldn't say. "I was hoping she'd get past it. I'm sorry to see that she hasn't. Do you want me to tell you what I know? Maybe I could help-"

"No," John cut in, shaking his head. "I appreciate it, but if Sophia doesn't feel comfortable telling me, I wouldn't want you to speak for her."

Orria gave a small nod.

"I suppose that's a good call, then," she said, looking like she was about to turn to head back up to the bedrooms, before pausing. "What if I go talk to her? We've... We're close, and maybe if I speak with her alone..."

"I would appreciate that, actually. Just make sure she's alright," John agreed, smiling at her with a bit of relief. He didn't know what was troubling Sophia so much, but if she didn't want him to pry further, at least he could ensure she wouldn't have to be alone with whatever was haunting her.

Orria gave another small nod and turned, following Sophia upstairs, leaving John alone with his thoughts.

Orria found Sophia in an increasingly familiar position - the same one she'd been in the last time they spoke like this, leaning up against the window, watching John walk off, her expression pensive and distant. This time, Sophia gave an annoyed grunt - likely because she had very deliberately locked the door on her way in, but Orria had simply used her vines to unlock and open it. The elf smiled as Sophia's eyes turned to her, the red orbs filled with frustration and embarrassment as much as anger.

"I should have known you'd show up. Come to tell me how much I shouldn't hide things, too? Come to say how I need to stop bottling up my feelings and share my thoughts?" The harpy's tone was mocking, but not cruel. Just bitter and sad, like someone who'd had this argument many times before, with no satisfactory conclusion to it.

Orria's smile faded, her eyes turning sad as well. "I've come to check on you, and make sure you're alright," she corrected gently, taking a few steps towards the bed and taking a seat, patting the space beside her. Sophia just snorted derisively, remaining at the window. "You've been upset with yourself for a while, haven't you?"

"I am fine," Sophia grumbled. "And this is none of your concern, so please leave it alone."

"It's not fine, and clearly I don't need to be a master at reading people to see that you're lying to yourself as much as John," Orria shot back, trying to make sure she kept the tone gentle, despite the harshness of the words. "Sophia, you know that there's no shame in speaking to someone you care about, right?"

Sophia's wings ruffled, but she said nothing in response.

"What's so shameful that you feel the need to hide this?" Orria asked.

Sophia turned her head to face the elf once more. There were tears in her eyes, and a frustrated frown on her lips. Orria was taken aback by the raw emotion in her normally stone-faced features. "My desires are shameful," the harpy replied. "And speaking of them with John - or with you - will do nothing but shame him, and me, and bring more trouble down upon our flock."

"What could be that terrible? John would never judge you like that," Orria tried to reassure her. But her words didn't seem to be working. "He would do everything in his power to-"

"No. This isn't some simple issue that can be fixed," Sophia snapped. "There is no solving my problems, there's only suffering through them and ensuring they do not cause trouble for my Father, or my sisters, or any of our flock. So please, leave it alone."

"Sophia, please, you're only making this harder on yourself," Orria said.

"Enough." The word came out so firmly and so suddenly that it took Orria by surprise. She didn't argue, or push, though, just waited, and watched. "You have no idea of what you speak, elf. You do not understand the true weight of what our Father has endured. What has been lost, what cannot be replaced."

"Sophia, what does that have to do with your feelings?"

The harpy let out a low growl. "Everything," she snapped, her eyes turning to Orria with a vicious intensity. It was almost terrifying, but the elf didn't flinch. "Every piece of me, all that I am, is built to serve him. I exist to be the best I can, to serve the role he gave me, to protect and serve him as a member of his flock."

"And how does this stop you from talking to him, from being with him, from-"

"It stops me because those same instincts tell me that someone must be the Mother," Sophia cut in, and Orria fell silent again. "That someone must step into that role. And that someone is me."

"Mother," Orria repeated. "You mean Seras Victoria? You want to replace her?"

"Don't you ever say such a thing," Sophia growled, and Orria recoiled. This time the ferocity in the harpy's tone and the anger in her eyes was genuine. "Of course I do not want to replace her! She cannot be replaced. She never will. Yet my body is betraying me, telling me to fill the hole she left. It tells me that a flock must always have a leader, whether Mother or Father, and they in turn must always choose one to aid them, to stand at their side and act as their support, to care for and protect them just as they care for and protect the flock. John has no Mother to stand at his side. He hasn't, for a long time, and now my instincts have decided that if no one else is to step in and take that position, I must. But how dare I?! How dare my own body encourage me to betray both of them in such a way?!"

Sophia shouted the last part, slamming her fist into the windowsill. Tears poured down her face, and she refused to meet Orria’s gaze anymore.

"That's why... that's why you've been acting this way? Why you looked as though you were almost in physical pain when you were watching him?” Orria was stunned, and she didn’t take that lightly. Orria had spent most of her time since the day John had Purified her observing his creations, his world, and she had known the strength of the Harpy’s reliance on her own instincts… yet, somehow, she hadn’t quite understood the depth of the winged woman’s turmoil.

"Yes,” Sophia whispered, the tears returning, her shame coursing down her face. “As if the urges to assert myself – to insert myself – in his life were not enough… my body has decided that, as the Mother, it is my duty to expand the flock. It does not understand. It cannot understand. And it never will.”

Silence fell between them. Even as the shock ebbed, Orria found herself lost for words. Sophia seemed almost smug about this, a bitter smile coming to her face as she saw the elf’s slack-jawed despair.

“So perhaps now you understand. There is nothing to be gained by laying this burden upon my Father. Nothing will be fixed, no relief will be had. All that would happen is that Father would feel the same hatred that I feel for myself."

"Sophia, John would never hate you, especially for something you can't control." Some of the confidence returned to Orria's voice, her shock giving way before the strength of her belief in John. "He understands what it's like to be driven by urges beyond your control. He helped Lerianna with hers, and he forgave Vallya - he would not hate you. He loves you, Sophia."

"You weren't there."

Sophia's face hardened and her posture tightened, walls rising again. Only the quiver of her eyes and the white of her knuckles as she gripped her own arms protectively gave away how unstable she was feeling.

"When Father faced the man responsible for Mother's ****, when he was about to truly inflict suffering on that monster, he revealed the depth of his hurt. Father told him that he had stolen away his happiness. That the Albidian had stolen away the one he loved most, hurt him in a way that no one else could. Father said that he had left him with nothing, and no one.”

“Sophia, he didn’t mean it like that. When people are angry, they-”

“I was joined with Father,” Sophia interrupted, her tone growing harsh. “That technique he sometimes uses when the need is great, that which binds us to him and lends him our strength? He had used its strongest version upon me to aid in the destruction of those who had wronged us. I had joined with him in body, mind, and soul. I felt everything that he did when he said those words. And I know that he meant them. Deeply within his soul, he did. You are right, Orria. Father does love us. But not like he once did. I fear he may never allow himself to love like that again.”

“You don’t know how he feels now,” Orria insisted, feeling a mixture of futile determination and a deep sadness for Sophia that both drove her to continue objecting to the dark conclusion the harpy’s thoughts were leading her toward. “He’s hurt, but he has his whole life ahead of him. And it seems like in the Abyss, that might be a very long time.”

“You are new here compared to most, a scant few weeks old even now, so I will forgive you for not realizing what has been lost,” Sophia said simply, her harshness still there, tempered only by a wistful sense of nostalgia. “But tell me this, Orria. Since your creation, how many times have you heard Father say that he loves us?”

Orria’s mouth opened instinctively, ready to- to what? Her brow furrowed, and the stubbornness she felt inside began to waver.

“I-I mean, I don’t often spend time around the rest of you when you are intimate with him, I merely-”

“You needn’t think so hard to know the answer is none,” Sophia said, her body sagging against the wall. The defensiveness, the anger, the despair all seemed to leave her at once, and in their place stood a defeated woman. Something Orria had never seen in Sophia before, a sight that gripped her throat with icy fingers. “It took some time before he declared his love to Mother, but after he did, he would declare his love for us quite frequently. But now? Father has not spoken that word in such a way since Mother’s ****. He has loved places, things, occurrences in our lives. But not us. The closest he has come is with his own children, and that is a different kind of love, strong as it may be. A kind that was not lost to him.”

Half-formed words danced on Orria’s tongue, but they were as tired and defeated as the harpy, particularly as recent memories danced in her brain. For as weary as Sophia’s eyes were, they didn’t miss the distant look in the blonde elf’s gaze.

“You told him that you loved him, didn’t you?” Orria allowed herself the barest of nods, and Sophia gave a knowing grunt. “And what did he say in return?”

“He said… ‘I know’,” Orria repeated, her throat trying to close around the words and lock them away.

“Take some comfort in what I have told you,” Sophia said, her tone holding none of that offered comfort. “Father as he was a year and some weeks ago would have lifted you up high, laughed with you, and declared his undying love for you on the spot. Know the reasons why that is not what you received.”

“That doesn’t feel very comforting.”

Sophia narrowed her eyes and turned away, her shoulder muscles tensing again as she returned to her vigil through the window.