Nyssa remained silent as Sara informed her, she would return to Boston by five tomorrow evening.
"If that is what you wish, Azizity." was all she said and all she could say. Sara was free to make her own decisions. If the trip had drained her that much, maybe she should not have taken it.
A moment's pause followed on the other end before a hesitant. Only a "See you then" broke the silence.
"You should tell me about your trip when you return." The Heir to the Demon stated, containing her disproval. Years of experience had taught her how to handle with an emotional drained Sara. She would not talk about over the phone. She would need to wait for her lover to figure out it for herself first, then they could talk about it.
"I will." The junior assassin replied, fatigue creeping in her voice.
"Be safe." Nyssa advised before she pushed the red button on her burner phone.
The Heir to the Demon released the combination of a sign and grumble as she stepped the apartment. Sara missed another chance to see if her birth family was truly part of her real family. If they would told and accepted it, the matter would be simple enough, just make sure they did not follow and kept the secret between them. Technically, she was dead. God. She was beating these points to death.
Back to the mission, the fools would soon be discovering their uppity imbecile of a boss with red fletching protruding from his chest now. The fool was new, arrogance enough to underestimate the League's power. If they did not contact the league in a day, the second-in-command would found dead in the same matter. The missing shipping logs would go unnoticed. Finding your boss dead would do that. It was his habit to keep these documents hidden anyway. Either way, most of their drug shipments scheduled for this week would go missing.
After this excuse for the trip was done, the real reason of reminding Abd Al-Malik, the New England manager of overall his position and make sure all the information about the break in was revealed. What would one want with that massive amount of sedatives? There are other places to steal from too. They have unique stock pile but that was not one of them. This Deathstroke (ARGUS's name) or Abd Al-Hatim had became a source of constant migraines. He had been a fortunate soul so far. Then again, he eliminating him would not be straightforward as she would have like. In his first encounters with them, he took down three elite assassins - alone.
Nyssa. Rest. She shut the door behind her before heading to bed. You don't want to be as tire as Sara.
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Coffee greeted Nyssa's nose as she opened the apartment door the next evening. She stiffened for a spilt second. Who was there? A common burglar would not brewing coffee.
"Traffic was lighter than expected." Sara's voice echoed from the kitchen.
"You really should make sure that it is me before you announce your presence." Nyssa commented amused. Her eyes checking the mirror twenty feet in front of her. Sara's reflection in the polished metal didn't appear among the earth pilate of the living room and kitchen. A discarded leather jacket thrown discarded on the couch marked her presence though. Stream evaporated from the dipping caffeinated fluid into the coffee pot. She must just arrived.
"Not when I can see you with the mirror." Sara stated while stand up from behind the island. A metal spoon grasped in her hand. She tossed beside a waiting mug.
A muted smiled crawled on the elder assassin's face. "How was the trip?" She intrigued, putting her coat on the nearby coat stand.
"Good. They were alright." Sara replied, answering her lover's next question. "How is your mission going?"
"Proceeding." The Heir to the Demon answered. Word had reached her about the company's interest in a "new start" with the League. "Do you regretted it?" pounded behind her smile. Still, it could not make the final leap to uttered statement.
Sara walked out from behind the Island. "Knowing you, it should be done soon. You made it simply"
"Part of it is." The Heir to the Demon inquired, stepping out of the hallway. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"
"Sleep" was the immediate response.
Extreme fatigue burrowed and nested into Sara's eyes but it was emotionally weariness, not physical exhaustion. The question gained strength. "Too bad. I was planning spending a few hours as a tourist." The Heir to the Demon stated. Her lover would catch the ploy but it was as subtle as possible.
"You're never a tourist - partially in the states." Confusion mixed with the weariness.
A laugh attempted to escape but failed to slip through Nyssa's defenses. Enjoying the scenes while working doesn't allow the leisure of simply wandering and taking in every meticulous detail of a landmark or masterpiece. Catching glances of the landmark's details was her usual "tourist" activities with the buck of her focus on the target or mission. Her vacation suffered a limit of two weeks free from any League responsibilities. Still, she have covered more miles than the average person dreamed of in a lifetime.
"Most of the time is not never." The Heir to The Demon teased.
"Okay, I'll bit. What do you have planned?" Sara responded.
"I was thinking of visiting the Museum of Fine Arts." Unfortunately brief hours could be spent drinking in the scene of historical and innovative masterpieces. Besides if she going to do her father's second mission, she going to at least enjoy herself during this fool's errand once.
"You said a few hours, not the whole day." Sara laughed to herself. Hints of the weariness disappeared in her eyes.
"That day we did more than visit the museum."
"We arrived at nine and left at four that evening." Another contained laugh escaped from Sara.
"There is only five exhibits I want to see." Her lover raised her eyebrows at her statement. The blonde informed her that her walk slowed with every step politely after that "day" in the Hermitage Museum.
"And after that?"
"It may took the whole time, Habibati." Nyssa have to be honest. She only have two hours, not including travel time. She budgeted time for that.
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Nyssa inhaled the crisp, uncontaminated Nanda Parbat air as her eyes flowed to jewels lighting the sheet of black consuming the sky. A welcome change from the polluted air of New York City with its own jewels concealed by a constant blaze of light. Here, however, they reigned in their unrestrained glory. She rested her arms on the french railing of the balcony. It could not be a more notable clash with the rest of the mason but her mom had loved it so it was installed.
The night darkened the faded amber, crimson, or rust colored tiles topping the dark mustard or beige stone residents engulfed a blanket of jagged monuments of rock and natural forces. In the morning one could see initiates strolling or sprinting to attend their 5:30 am lessons. At noon, a suitable crowd from the afternoon market proved entertaining from the hidden view point.
A squeak break her thoughts. The Heir to the Demon allowed to her reflections to stray from the heavens despite the facts she knew it was Sara. No one else in Nanda Parbat walked that loudly. A booming cannon compared to at most a muted tapping. The fat oak door squeaked again after her ward shut it with a determined shove, keeping her hood and head down. Sara turned around and jumped. She must have distracted by something.
"Hi, Nyssa" escaped from the ward. Shock evaporating from her whispered voice.
"Hello. What you are doing awake at this hour? It is two in the morning." The Heir to the Demon inquired. Did the nightmares improve?
Sara sighed and raised her head a little. That was a good sign. "Couldn't sleep. You?" She stated, stepping back and gripping the door handle.
This was the afternoon for her body. International travel's gift to all.
"Just enjoying the stars. You may join me if you want." Nyssa gestured for Sara to come closer as the assassin walked to the ornate table bordered by carved arabic inscriptions incasing interlocking geometric designs. A smile flashed on her face for a moment. She could remember every moment of the day her father and mom brought the table back from a trip to Cairo. A week was a long time for a four year old. The air boot and sneaker walked toward her. Nyssa's eyes wondered to the tea pot and single tea cup. Sara sat down. Normally, she would have stood. A mild wince from under the hood's shadow appeared. Her leg had to be bothering her. "How have you been?"
"Good" was all that came out initially, but "How was New York?" followed.
"New York is New York." The Heir to the Demon never like overvalued, sound and light polluted cities. A chuckle came from under the hood. Surprise entered the assassin's emotional neutral eyes, then the outline of smile grew. She was laughing. Nyssa walked in forward of her. Part of her entertained the idea of simply pulling down the hood to get a better look at her but that would startle her. "Does your leg hurt?"
"I have had worse." Her ward stated. The assassin was particularly aware of that. She raised and walked beside Sara, grabbing the back of her hood and pulling down the hood. "I walked a lot today. I'm feeling it." The Heir to the Demon moved to the other end of the table.
"Alright." Nyssa muttered. She would need to check on that tomorrow. "Would you like some tea?"
The other woman shrugged. Her voice remain hushed. "Sure." She kept her hood down. "Thank you."
Cinnamon scented the air as Nyssa filled a cup with her favorite drink. "It is strong." She warned, handing the streaming cup to Sara.
The Heir to the Demon took moment to further study her ward's features. Her azure eyes filled out the last of moats surrounding them in week and half she had been gone. The cheekbones resembled half buried driftwood on a pale sanded beach had been covered. Her mid back length strains of flaxen had darken from a faded lemon to smooth golden. Her muscle from what little she could see looked heathly. A considerable improvement from a month ago.
Sara sipped the drink and twisted her mouth. She forced it with an audible gulp. "That was a lot of cinnamon. Kinda overloaded." She immediately placed the cup on the table.
An amused smile crossed Nyssa's face. It is an attached taste. Still, there was not that much cinnamon in it. Sara leaned back and looked the stars. "This is better than Starling City?"
"The view is." Sara replied. A feeble attempt at a proper smile appeared on her face.
It was natural. Of course. "Do you miss them?"
"Who wouldn't." The attempt at a smile grow more self-assured and proper as her ward spoke.
Nyssa gathered her breath. "Once you're better, will you want to return home?" She enjoyed the recluse's presence; Sara provided a welcome break to the constant need for cation. It was better know to value this possibly limited time than waste it.
A prolonged pause followed. "I don't know. I'm not the one they knew." finally slipped out.
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"Still not as good as Nanda Parbat." Sara laid her head on Nyssa's arm. Her eyes humoring her lover by forging serious interest in the gleaming speckles of light swimming in the blanket of ink as the couple laid on the rooftop. They darted randomly from star to star, not studying the absurdly named outlines of the stars like her own trained ones.
Apparently the overly ambitious incoming leaders were not idiots. That would not change the soon-to-be missing drug shipments though. The league could be a remarkable ally, if one followed the basic rules of don't knowingly intervene in league operations. Anyway her evening had opened up, now that she wouldn't have to watch that house, Nyssa persuaded Sara to join her instead of collapsing in bed.
"Most views are." The Heir to the Demon beamed. Sara's eyes wondered to the brick wall. "Habibati, what is it?"
A rapid, sharpened "Nothing" answered.
"Nothing means something." The archer sharpen her voice as she retorted. Even an amateur, let alone her, could something weighted down her thoughts.
"I just really want to be there right now."
Starling City, her birth place or Nanda Parbat, her home? She would take the mid-morning sun of the mountain sanctuary over the most sheltered, secure league housing in Boston herself.
"Nanda Parbat." Sara continued. The Heir to the Demon smiled but didn't spoke. Was bringing her on even the correct decision. An report in Nanda Parbat have could be enough. Was she thinking that loudly? These thoughts protested and battled their way to the tip of her tongue but lose their feeble attempt. You're torturing yourself more than any enemy could, Nyssa.
"Sorry." The blonde sat up, pulling her knees toward her as she spoke. An completely unaware element dominated her voice. Sara's eyes scanned the features of the distance street light lit landscape from the factory roof top without taking them.
"Why? No offense was committed." Nyssa studied her lover as she spoke.
"You want to relax and I'll not helping." The younger assassin stated the same distance tone.
Sara had a point but it was not her fault. It was Merlyn's, and extending to the League. Nyssa could even blame her father, however remote. Possibly even she could included herself if she thought on it long enough. Lesson have been learned. Mistakes would not be repeated. However, casting blame at this point was an inefficient use of energy. Catching or confirming the traitor died was the only efficient use of resources now. "Reflecting on a situation like your's something not even my father could mask." Her lover looked at her, almost allowing a muted chuckle to exit but hide the beginning curve of her mouth behind her knees. "Even you could tell."
"Now, you're just making claims, you can not support." Sara chuckled, still hiding the lifting corners of her mouth; her glare wandered to the harbor.
"Habibati, I never make these." The Heir to the Demon placed her arm around Sara's waist and pulled her closer.
The wore etching of a smile became visible. Nyssa felt a restrained smile slip on her face as well. "Like when you claimed, it would only take fifteen minutes to find me."
"I underestimated you. I didn't repeat that mistake again." The Heir to the Demon replied.
The junior assassin laughed while casting a disbelieving look. "Right."
"I'll make you a deal: I'll give you two minutes. I have a hour. We stay in the factory." Nyssa negotiated. She know the layout of the factory fairly well but it would not be difficult for Sara to figure out as well.
"If you can't..." Her lover's grew more mischievous smile. A playful glint dancing in her eyes. The senior assassin felt her smile shape into a smirk. Sara continued. "We could do that anytime."
"Fly, canary." Nyssa teased, waving her hand in the direction of where they had entered from. "Your time starts now." Sara countered with a smirk of her own. "You'll learn, Ta-er Al-Safher."
"My time starts now." The Canary placed a kiss on her lover's cheek before blending into the darkness. It took a moment for Nyssa to check her watch to start the time.
