The day is miserable, though perhaps that's just Thalia's natural mood.

She has been up since the sun rose this morning. Thalia is by no means an early bird. She hates mornings. But a nervous wreck? Terminally. She's always like this the day before crossing the fold, up and about before people have even thought about waking themselves. Worry washes over her like torrential rain. Soaked through to the bones with it and shaking like a mad woman.

Each time she crosses the Fold, Thalia chances death. Perhaps that's part of the reason she keeps going.

They are already locked and loaded with Heartrender's— Kamila, Saskia and Vladislav. Healers, however, are a different story. While Thalia is not a Healer, they are short on supply. She knows the basics, and she is being put on that Skiff whether she likes it or not.

"Morning," Zaria greets, scooting onto the bench beside Thalia in the Grisha breakfast hall. It's smaller, given there is less of them than First Army soldiers, but still grand. Zaria helps herself to a handful of grapes, the purple mirroring her Kefta. "You ready for today, d'ya think?"

A pathetic laugh slips past Thalia's lips. "Far from it," she replies, sipping on her tea. The beverage is bitter on her tongue from lack of sugar, but only when she deserves it will she allow herself something so sacred. Thalia holds very low hopes of this coming to be true one day. She notices Zaria's stare lingering on her face, and touches her cheek self-consciously with an unsure frown. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Zaria smiles that prize winning Zaria Petrova smile, her gaze not shifting. "Zoya tells me you had a visitor last night."

   "Did she really?" Thalia replies, feigning innocence. Zoya and her big, stupid mouth blabbering on about everyones business but her own. "Zoya talks rubbish all the time, you should know not to listen to her by now."

   "Ah ah ah," Zaria tuts with a shake of her head. She points her right index finger at Thalia, using her left to pop another grape into her mouth. Thalia would never be able to understand how she did that so effortlessly. "I know Zoya chats rubbish, trust. But, she described this man in very fine details, and I'm just having a hard time believing she made it all up."

Thalia rolls her eyes, fingers tapping away at the wooden surface of the table. She'd prefer to be doing anything but having this conversation. Mal visiting the tent was a slip up. It was something in its own realm. It was something Thalia did not want to talk about.

Nonetheless, Zaria seems adamant in having this conversation with her. "So, who was he?"

   "Casimir," Thalia lies. Casimir was Zaria's latest conquest, and she could easily fabricate a story involving him since the boy didn't seem to know where his shoes were half the time, never mind where he was last night. "He came looking for you, actually. Zoya's just trying to cause trouble because she's got nothing else to do."

Zaria is not easily fooled, but Thalia's done enough of it to know what she's doing. "Huh," Zaria whispers. "I'll have to find him later on and see what he wanted. Probably me. I am irresistible, after all. But for now, my dearest Thalia, I must be off to fix up some things for General Kirigan."

"Hold on a minute," Thalia bids, holding Zaria by the arm to halt her movement. "Kirigan's got you working again? Did you not just finish his latest project?"

Zaria nods solemnly. "Indeed I did. But you know what Kirigan's like. 'Nothing is ever truly finished until the Fold is banished' and all that. Weirdo. But I must be off, see you on the Skiff!"

Thalia gives her a small smile as a goodbye, watching her friend leave. Despite her apparent distain for General Kirigan, it seemed that all Zaria was ever doing was working on new things for him. The price of being a Durast, she supposed. At least Kirigan didn't call on Thalia unless he absolutely needed her. Zaria was being shouted on left and right.

She continued to work on her bitter tea, her throat threatening to close up at each swallow. She has never been one for tea, but it was this or water. She'd never been one for water, either. She would really love some Kvas, if she was being truthful.

"Good morning, Thalia." Zoya greets, seating herself directly across the table with a large bowl of sliced apple and banana. She looked wonderful for having just woke. Zoya always seemed to look wonderful. "Sleep well?"

"As well as one can the night before certain death," Thalia answers, her lips stretched sarcastically. "And you?"

A laugh bubbles from Zoya, the girl smiling brightly. "You don't need to be such a Negative Nedi all the time, Thalia. You do know that?"

Thalia scoffs. "I'm don't think of myself as much of a Negative Nedi, thank you very much. I'm more of a 'I actually care about the consequences of my actions' type of girl. You might be familiar with it?"

Another tortuously perfect giggle. How can someone have a perfect laugh? "Oh, Thalia. You do make me laugh."

"I'll be here all week." Thalia tells, pushing up from the table. She leaves her teacup abandoned. "I'm going to prepare for our trip across the Fold. You are manning the sails, I suppose?"

Zoya gives a nod, swallowing her fruit before speaking. "You know I am. I'm the best Squaller the Second Army has got."

"No use in denying that," Thalia acknowledges. "See you on the Skiff, Zoya."

Not waiting to hear a goodbye seeing as the likeliness of her getting one is very low, Thalia leaves the tent. She's not entirely sure what to do with herself now. She has at least an hour until they begin to board, and her things have been packed since last night.

Nothing to do but wander, Thalia supposes. She could visit her fellow Heartrenders, see how they are getting on with preparing themselves for today's venture, get a few tips for when it is finally Thalia's time to shine. There is also the option of joining the people preparing the Skiff, helping out where she can to get the process moving that much quicker. The sooner they get there, the sooner Thalia can return to the Little Palace to sleep in her own bed and indulge herself in a life of sugar, spice, and everything nice. Not that she deserves it, so she probably won't, but a girl can dream.

The Skiff it is, Thalia decides. Her feet carry her across the muddy grounds of the camp, black boots loud and drawing unwanted attention to herself. She could control her steps inside the Grisha tent, but the camp grounds were uncharted territory. She couldn't memorise mud.

"Hey, hello! Hi, can you please stop?"

Thalia freezes. She vaguely recognises the voice, but cannot seem to pin point where she knows it from. The person jogs to watch up with her, coming to her front and bending halfway over to rest their arms on their knees, panting heavily.

"Saints," Mal breathes, looking at Thalia incredulously. Her cheeks burn red like a rose in spring. "You walk so fast. Why do you walk so fast?"

"Sorry," Thalia mutters, gaze trained on her boots. "Force of habit, I guess."

Mal waves an arm, still breathing heavily as he speaks again. "It's alright. I just— Saints, give me a minute to catch my breath."

Thalia nods, giving him that minute. She's not entirely sure why it is he sprinted to catch up with her. There is certainly nothing that Thalia Vassilieva can offer Mal. Not unless he wants her to play around with someone's internal organs, that is. And Thalia isn't sure that she's permitted to do that.

   "Right," Mal finally begins, raising himself up from the floor. He smiles crookedly, extending a hand to her. "Hi. I'm Mal Oretsev. Malyen, if we're being formal, let's not be formal. I feel like I owe you a thank you for what you did last night."

   "You don't." Thalia returns instantly, Mal's hand left unshaken in the air. "You don't. I was just doing the right thing. Your friend was hungry, I wasn't going to throw you to the wolves for trying to fix that. I mean, not the wolves. We don't even have wolves here. Do we have wolves here? I don't think we do. I hope we don't, I'm rather scared of wolves, ghastly things—"

It's then that Thalia realises she is rambling. Saints, this is so embarrassing. Mal stares at her, gaping, almost smiling.

   "I'm sorry?" She apologises, now taking his hand in her own and giving it a firm shake. "I'm Thalia Vassilieva. Just Thalia, I don't have a nickname. I ramble when I'm nervous. I'm a bit of a knob, if you haven't already noticed."

Nice going, Thalia. If he didn't think you were a knob before, he definitely does now.

Mal only shakes his head with a kind smile, letting go of her hand and letting it fall to her side. "It's alright, Thalia. Listen, I just wanted to say thank you for not grassing me up to your general. I've heard he's a right tight arse— sorry."

"It's okay!" Thalia insists, eagerly. "He is. A tight arse, I mean."

A bright grin breaks out on Mal's face. "I've gotta go and get my stuff ready, but like I said, just wanted to say thank you. It meant a lot to my friend and I."

Thalia shrugs. "Anytime."

They stare at one another for a moment, frozen. Thalia swallows thickly. All movement around them goes on standstill as a clattering of hooves nears, and Thalia breaks out of her trance.

"General Kirigan," Mal notes, nodding toward the large black carriage nearing them. Thalia nods. "I suppose he'll want to see you and all the other Grisha, so I best let you get to it."

"Right." Thalia agrees, and she's so awkward. Why is she so bloody awkward? "Right. Okay. See you, Mal."

Thalia is gone before Mal can utter a goodbye of his own. That's twice she's done that today. Nasty habit. Her mother scolded her for it often as a child.

As she makes way to the tent where General Kirigan will undoubtedly gather the Grisha for a rundown of the days events, she sighs deeply, attempting to centre herself. She needs to pay full attention to the debrief or she'll miss something important.

Thalia only comes to with one conclusion by the end of her small centring session, and that is that her Saintsforsaken life just seems to her more complicated every day.