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The thing was that the more she thought about it, the more she knew that he'd wear her down eventually.
Emelia thumbed through the pages of her book, trying to refresh her memory of Varisia, its people, and its history. Her next assignment was in the far-off land, and while she knew she could have asked him, it mattered to her that she knew this stuff on her own. She didn't need him. Or perhaps she didn't want to need him. A subtle, but important, difference.
She had never intended to become a Pathfinder. Being a field agent hadn't been in the cards for her, but she couldn't keep watching heroes die. Why did they always die? And why did she always have to fall for them before they did? She turned another page a little harder and bit her lip. She couldn't do that again. She wouldn't. She'd keep them all at a distance, and just do her job. She wouldn't let herself think she was cursed.
This train of thought was working her up and the words on the page became incomprehensible. Steam misted her glasses. 'I don't have time for this,' she thought, taking them off and leaning back in the rickety chair she had claimed in Master Shane's study. The Master of Scrolls was eccentric, but an excellent and empathetic teacher. She was always welcome here when she needed to think or read up on some obscure fact.
She sniffled and raised a sleeve to dab at her eyes. Now was not the time to be dwelling on the past. She'd just as soon forget it all, but her heart couldn't bear to let go of those she'd once loved so much. The body count was up to three, and all were unfulfilled loves. They'd all been a team once, and for her, they'd each been something more. But the Boneyard took them all, one by one, and left her behind. When she realized she couldn't let their memories be in vain, the Silver Crusade accepted her as an agent. If any faction could understand fighting simply for the sake of good, it was the one led by Lady Zadrian.
"Hey yo, Emelia. You in here?" Frankie popped his head in the door all too suddenly and Emelia snapped the book shut as she was startled from her thoughts, hand scrambling for her discarded glasses on the table.
"WHAT, what- What is it, Frankie?" she calmed herself, pushing down all the melancholy introspections and straightening her posture in her seat. He eyed her curiously for a moment, then grinned boyishly and entered with a sheaf of paper.
"Your, uh, your mission brief is here. I guess we're sailin' to Varisia? You know, I'm Varisian an-"
"You read my briefing?" she snatched the file out of his hands and started flipping through it, the seal clearly broken.
"Well, yeah, we're kind of, ya know, a team, so I figured-"
"You're not going on this mission, Frankie," she interrupted briskly, silently adding, 'I made sure of it.'
His brow knitted in confusion, and he removed his hat, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. "That's weird. I'll go talk to Olysta, I'm sure she-"
"NO, no. No, it's fine. I can handle this. It's just a routine trip to Magnamar. Things have calmed down there; they probably have a bunch of relics to catalogue and archive. That's what I do, you know. Archive things," She really needed to learn when to stop talking.
"Yeah, sure... Well, uh... have a safe trip then," his face screwed into a frown, and he hovered awkwardly for a moment, as though he were going to say something more, before abruptly turning and exiting the room. Emelia breathed a sigh of relief.
She needed the alone time. Frankie had been glued to her side since she left the Emerald Spire, and his incessant flirtation flustered her. She didn't know why. He wasn't particularly handsome or charming, he enjoyed flaunting his intelligence, and he practically drowned his person in patchouli. With his constant attention, he kept her off guard and she couldn't take the time to figure it out.
Now she had the time. This trip would be great; cataloguing artifacts would be a piece of cake. After all, what could go wrong at Heidmarch manor?