Nadia DuPont || Before
The moment Nadia enters her apartment, her heart is a butterfly pinned within her chest. A date. With Simone. What was she thinking?
She’s never been one for dating. In primary school, no one was enough to catch her interest. It wasn’t until the gap years she found a need for romance and sex at all. Casual affairs only, of course. She’d seen how her mothers, though in love and destined for each other, had been torn apart in the end.
Even now, in her third year in the Diviner’s program, she hasn’t gone beyond a date or two, let alone anything more than a meaningless hook-up.
She’s getting ahead of herself. With a groan, she regards herself in the mirror hanging from her bedroom door. The surface is smudged enough to give her a sort of warped aura around the edges. Still, it suits its purpose as she holds up shirt after shirt, dress after dress, determined to find just the right outfit.
Nothing fits or looks quite right, though. In a huff, she calls Etienne.
He’s there minutes later, perched on the edge of her bed. She stares at him through the mirror, a floral-print dress pressed to her chest. His lips purse as he inspects the fabric. Finally, “Too dark.”
“You’re right.” She tosses the dress aside and scours the mountain of clothes surrounding her for a new one.
“You’re putting…quite some effort into this one.”
Nadia straightens with goldenrod fabric in her grasp. “Am I?” she asks as she unfurls the turtleneck—when did she get this one? Where?—and examines herself in the mirror. “I think this might work with that one dress I have.”
Then, before Etienne can reply, she’s stripping to her undergarments. Even this she had agonized over—not that she’ll ever admit such to Etienne—and finally settled on a simple sheer slip. There is a chance, however slim, Simone won’t get to see it. So, Nadia picks something comfortable and hopes for the best.
“Besides, you—Are you even listening to me?”
She stiffens. Perhaps she’s putting too much thought into her garment options. “I’m sorry, Etienne. I missed that. What did you say?”
An unusual darkness flits across his features. Arms crossed, he says, “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” Nadia positions the neckline just so and twists back and forth. Though she wants to focus on how the fabric falls, Etienne’s glower distracts her.
She stops twirling and turns around. “What.”
He chews on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t try to bullshit me. This.” She gestures to him with a hand. “Why are you being so sour?”
Etienne’s knee bounces, a tell-tale sign of anxiety. What does he have to be anxious over? Sighing, he leans forward so his hair obscures most of his face.
“I thought you didn’t like dating.”
She quirks a brow. That’s what this is about? “I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I won’t go on one—just to see what all the fuss is for.”
“And…” His knee continues to bounce. Thin fingers rake through his mud-brown hair. “What if you decide you like it?”
“Then who cares?” She throws the sweater on, just to have something to wear. She feels too naked without it. “It’s not like we need to write the campus newspaper. Look out, everyone, Nadia got some good sex for once. This might be the one to settle her down!” Then, examining herself, “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Etienne’s cheeks brighten. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”
“Then what are you saying?”
He stamps his foot into the carpet. Though it stops shaking, his knee trembles. “What if… you decide you like being with them more than with me?”
A snort escapes before she can stop it. “We’ve never been romantic.”
“Of course not!” Then, quieter, “I just mean… what if you stop being friends with me?”
Sighing, Nadia crosses to the bed and slings an arm around his shoulder. “Why would that ever happen?”
He remains stiff against her. “It’s happened before.”
“Not between us. Not everyone is Aleksi.”
“I know that.”
“Then don’t worry. Be happy for me! I’m seeing someone for the first time in…” She stops to count and, failing to conjure a number to mind, says, “I guess it’s been a while.”
In the silence that follows, her bedroom is a hunched beast waiting for battle. Once Nadia (finally) settles on her date ensemble—yellow turtleneck, a soft black dress with thin straps, and a pair of earrings made to represent orbiting stars—Etienne takes his leave. For once, Nadia is all the more glad when her front door clicks shut.
She debates makeup for a while after that. She’s never felt the need to paint her face, especially when her skin makes its protests incredibly obvious after the fact, save for enough concealer to make her look as lively as anyone else. Still, she ruminates in front of her cracked bathroom mirror with a bottle of yellow eye paint. She’s still staring at herself, haggard and exhausted but nevertheless trembling with excitement, when there’s a knock at her door.
Nadia sets the bottle down and meets eyes with Dio, perched on the edge of her tub. “Well, this is it. Wish me luck.”
Dio offers her a soft mewl before tucking his head into his paws and falling back asleep.
Another knock. Nadia gives herself a final look in the mirror. Thick dark circles rim her eyes and her bangs are a roughly chopped curtain over her eyes, but it’ll have to do.
Whatever expectations she’s set in herself of Simone are immediately blown away. A small wicker basket hangs from one arm. Blue beads cap the ends of their braided hair. Beneath their soft blue capelet, they’ve changed into a yellow button-up with narrow sleeves that billow before tightening at the cuffs. Their teeth gleam like fresh-farmed pearls.
“May I come in?”
Words evade her for several seconds. Then, “Of course.”
They sweep past her with a wave of orange and vanilla musk. Her toes curl at the scent. With a rapid pulse, she watches as Simone takes a slow circle around her apartment. Too late, she notes the dishes half-cleaned in the sink, the soft blanket pooling on the ground in front of the couch.
“I, um…” Nadia’s cheeks grow warm. “I haven’t had much time to clean lately. I’m sorry.”
Simone lowers into her couch cushions with a smile. Setting their basket in their lap, they say, “I’ve seen worse.”
The breath she exhales rattles her choppy bangs. With a bump of her hip, she forces the front door closed.
“Stuck door?”
“It’s picky.”
Their lips purse. “You should talk to the groundskeep about that.”
She shrugs, failing to conjure a better response. Crossing to the kitchen, she allows her gaze to leave Simone at last. “Would you care for a drink?”
“Something warm, I hope. Isa’s breath is warmer than the campus is right now.”
Nadia chuckles. “Tea it is.”
#
The stove won’t light. Then the water in her sink comes out grey and refuses to clear. Finally, when the lamps flicker in unison, Nadia buries her head in her hands and, from her spot on the couch, says, “Maybe you should leave.”
“Nonsense. We’ll go somewhere together.”
Minutes later, she finds her hand in theirs as they trek across campus. Though her ankles and knees voice their protest, Nadia doesn’t have it in her to care. Casters-to-be pass them by in a blur. Though their gazes burrow into her skin, Nadia can’t help but get a thrill from the stares.
That’s right. She clings tighter to Simone’s arm. Nadia DuPont is capable of a date.
The thought surprises her. Since when has she cared what others thought of her? Half of the third-years have scored themselves on her bedposts, after all. They know her reputation well enough.
Before long, they’re in line for the trams to the city below. With a harsh swallow, she recalls the last ride down she took. The feeling of weightlessness—even the memory of it—makes her stomach drop. For a moment, she considers telling Simone to find them somewhere on campus, but then she decides against it. What’s another risk when they’re already going so far?
They flash their amulets in unison to the faculty running the trams, who nod before gesturing them into them the open car. At once, she is assaulted by the smell of other people and her gut lurches. It’s a good thing I didn’t eat yet, she thinks as the tram begins its descent, otherwise I would have vomited twice by now.
In the midst of her panic, she’s faintly aware when Simone wraps an arm around her and pulls her close. The jittering of her knee stills at once.
When it’s over, Nadia waddles out of the team like a sailor, legs bowed at awkward angles. The pain in her ankles worsens as she finds a spare wall to lean against and catch her breath.
“You don’t leave the campus much, do you?” Simone asks.
“Can’t say I do.” And it’s the truth. Aside from the field trip a few weeks prior, Nadia can’t remember the last time she was in the city of her own free will. Most days, it is consumed in soft mist, so when she can brave a glance down there isn’t much to see. Now, she admires the intricacies in the brick roadways. Large vehicles drive past, hunched like animals ready to pounce. Simone leads her through a maze of streets, hands soft in hers, before pulling her into a small cafe.
“My enbei and I used to come here when I was younger,” they say as a bell tinkles overhead. Nadia doesn’t have the heart to mention how the smell of coffee makes her stomach curdle. Then again, what doesn’t nowadays?
They sit across from each other in a quieter corner of the cafe, warm cups of tea in hand.
“You’ve been in school for seven years now.” Simone stirs their drink as they talk, gaze dark and unreadable. “And, clearly, you’re a Diviner-to-be. Why?”
Nadia chokes on the last dredges of her cup. “That’s quite abrupt of you.” And in truth, she can’t remember the last time anyone was willing to scrutinize her so. Perhaps during her entrance exam, when the likes of people like Professor Favreau had seen fit to quiz her to the point of frustration. That was nearly eight years ago, though.
Still, after setting her cup down, she fingers the hem of her Diviner’s capelet and says, “For plenty of reasons. There’s much exploration to be done within the dream realms we turn to in sleep, wouldn’t you say?”
Their expression remains unchanged. Nadia’s skin prickles.
“For example,” she continues in a softer tone, anxiety turning her fingers to gelatin, “there are studies now to suggest dreams are how we process the events of the waking world. And, I think, it can be the safest place for people to dissect more… traumatic events.”
“As a means to recover from them?”
“Of course.” Nadia coughs to clear the dryness in the back of her throat—and the remains of her tea. “Sitting across from you right now does not have me inclined to dive into your innermost secrets—or to allow you to view mine. However, the dreamspace is…” Here she pauses, chewing on her lip as she thinks of how to continue.
Simone’s face melts into a comforting smile. “I think I understand. It’s a neutral ground of sorts, right?”
She couldn’t have been more shocked if they had pinned her to the chair and split her open for everyone to see. “Well… yes.”
“How fascinating.”
Nadia crosses her legs and leans forward. “There’s plenty of interesting sides to me, I think you will find.” Then, dragging her spoon along the rim of her cup, she says, “And what about you?”
“Pardon?”
“Abjuration.” She points to the soft blue capelet wrapped around Simone’s shoulders. “It’s not flashy like Evocation. You don’t get the fun reputation of the Diviners, or the strictness and danger of being an Enchanter. Some might even say that Abjuration is the most boring realm to become a Caster of. What about it appealed to you?”
Now it’s Simone’s turn to go wide-eyed. The shock is momentary, however. After a couple of beats to collect themself, Simone sets their cup down. Their mouth curls into a soft smile.
“Are you familiar with Candide Allard?”
“Can’t say I am.”
“Fascinating.” Their dark eyes flash again. Then, “They’re my enbei and a prominent member of the ACAS. It is through their work I’ve seen the true havoc that monsters are having on humanity across the world. As such, I want to do something about it.”
“The same can be said for many here.”
Simone shakes their head, the beads capping their braids clacking together. “Not so. Not the way I wish to. Even now, as we struggle to grow more connected as a world, there are many pitfalls that separate us.” After a pause to sip their tea, they say, “Take Hadorae, for example.”
Nadia shivers. The northern country had sent its pleas for help a few months ago. Even here, oceans away, Nadia remembers the Hadoraec spokespeople who had visited the college. The vacant horror in their eyes had been enough to disturb her sleep for weeks.
“They got the aid they needed, but did it need to get that far?” Simone continues. “There are ways to streamline communications worldwide, especially in the realm of Abjuration. In doing so, it is my hope we can quell this threat once and for all.”
Nadia mulls their words over, impressed and shocked in equal measure. Their aspirations are so… noble. Selfless. So unlike her in every way.
“Quite ambitious,” she says at last.
“That’s the truth of it, though.” Now, Simone sets their spoon down and straightens in their chair. The person regarding her has morphed; gone is the flirtatious air and gentle smile. They examine her the way the deans had all those years ago. What is it they seek?
“I don’t waste time, Nadia.”
Clearly. Momentarily, her thoughts drift to their first encounter, but she forces herself back to the present with a blush.
“Before we talk further, I would like to know there won’t be any… complications.”
How abrupt. “All…right.”
“What are your aspirations after you graduate?” Their head cocks. Their gaze rakes again over the lilac purple of her capelet. “You’ve mentioned working with dreams, yes. I find that answer to be lacking.”
“That’s the truth of it, though,” she says before chuckling. Without meaning too, she’s mirrored something Simone said earlier.
“Part of it, I’m sure, but not the whole truth.”
She’s had these kinds of dates before, had her fill of arrogant partners-to-be who wanted nothing more than to make her a trophy. At this point, she normally tells them to go fuck themselves and leaves the date at that, but something about Simone’s no-nonsense air makes the pit of her stomach grow warm. Dampness settles between her thighs.
“It… it depends on my final grades, I suppose,” she says at last, hating how the warmth in her face is all-encompassing. “Ultimately, I think it would be nice to use what I learn in a therapist’s setting.”
“Through dream work?”
“Through dream work.” A strange giddiness bubbles to life inside of her. Bouncing in her seat, she continues, “Because where you see a monster epidemic and the potential to forge new communication avenues, I am seeing all of the hunters who come home afterwards. They’re tired. They’re in pain. They’re traumatized.” Again, the haunted faces of the Hadoraec spokespeople comes to mind. “And what is being done about their trauma? Nothing.”
It’s as close to the truth as she’s willing to get. Of course her methods could be expanded to the monster hunters set abroad—in due time. Her thoughts are more local, though. And, with shame rolling down her back, she realizes she’s thinking of herself most of all. She can’t compare herself to the wealth of monster hunters, certainly, but she has her own traumas to sort through all the same.
Simone’s eyes narrow to slivers. Panting, Nadia waits for them to say something, anything.
Then, “A fair answer, Nadia DuPont.”
They rise from their seat and extend a hand to her. She examines it with a quirked brow.
“We’re leaving?”
“Our drinks are done, are they not?” Then, with a wink, “I have the perfect dessert in mind to round out our night.”
She can’t help herself. With a wicked grin, Nadia takes Simone’s hand in hers and drags them towards the exit.
There’s no urgency when they re-enter Nadia’s apartment. There’s a comfortable sort of quiet wreathing them as they slide their hands under each others clothes. Their capelets tangle together in a pile on the floor, blue over purple. Though Simone won’t let her remove their shirt, she redeems herself when she undoes the button to their pants with her teeth. Having exhausted themselves of words, they instead explore each other in the quiet of Nadia’s dusty apartment.
Afterwards, for the first time in a while, sleep claims Nadia swiftly and without mercy.
#
Awareness comes to her in snatches. Her chest aches when she reaches across the mattress and finds nothing but a fleeting warmth. Simone must have gone home for the evening. The final ring of the phone from the other room registers at last.
Sighing, she pulls the blanket tighter around her. Whoever is calling can leave a message—or else, call again. Otherwise, they have no reason to disturb her peace.
Seconds pass. Then, as if it read her mind, the phone rings anew. The shrill peals are enough to make her ears ache. When she stands, Dio winds around her legs, white tail fluffed up, and chirrups.
“Hello, sweet boy.”
A deep meow rumbles in his throat. Wide golden eyes regard her. His body trembles as he rubs against her.
“I’ve missed you too.”
Seemingly satisfied with the attention, Dio scurries away. The telephone resumes its piercing refrain. This time, she’s quick to grab it.
“Hello?”
“Is this Nadia DuPont?”
Her stomach flips. “It is. May I ask who is calling?”
“Ms. DuPont, this is Aida of the Voterique medical ward. If you have some time today, could you please visit our office? Your test results came in.”
“O-Of course.” After a dry swallow, she says, “Is everything okay?”
“We just need to discuss your results is all.”
At this, she tenses. What did they find that must be said in person? Did they notice the Serenity lingering in her blood?
“Ms. DuPont?”
“Understood.” She forces calm into her voice. If she’s to be expelled, so be it. “I will come by within the hour.”
It’s only once she’s hung up the phone that Nadia remembers she set a follow-up date with Simone. She eyes the clock on the wall. With any luck, her discussion will be brief and she’ll return before they arrive. They’ll never have to know.
Or, at least, she hopes.
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