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The halls of Foxfire were silent, all of her students in their classrooms, in their places. The only sound was the faint echo of what little noise reached through the doors of the classrooms– and, of course, of Sophie Foster's breathing, because she was not in her telepathy training class.
Sophie pulled at her lashes, resting her elbow on her knee as she leaned forward. There was nothing to worry about– there was no reason to worry. She wished there was a bench nearby, like in the corridor she had met Keefe in.
The door creaked open. Sophie jumped a bit, then smoothed her ruffled cloak out reflexively.
"Sophie?" Tiergan called out, looking out into the hall– then his gaze dropped, and he saw her.
Sophie smoothed her cloak more, but considering she was sitting on the floor, she was pretty sure it wouldn't be helping his impression of her right now.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
"Um," she said, tugging at another lash. "Yes?"
"Why didn't you come in?"
She knew she was more than late; she could practically hear the ticking of the clock as it crept, probably judgmentally, farther and farther past the time she was supposed to arrive at her telepathy training (well, not that elven clocks ticked).
"I'm not sure," she said awkwardly.
He looked at her, waiting for her to say more, and she looked slightly over his shoulder, feeling like a deer in headlights. After an agonizingly long moment, he heaved a sigh, and a second later dropped down to the floor next to her.
"What are you–"
"Well, if we're not going in, I might as well sit down too."
She didn't really have anything to say to that; it'd be more awkward now to get up.
"Are you nervous about school?"
Was she? This was her first telepathy session of the new school year, but she had been doing fine in her other classes up until now (her first inflicting session loomed ominously over her).
"I don't think so," she said, mumbling slightly.
They sat in silence for a few moments. When Tiergan finally spoke again, his voice was a bit softer. "Do you feel safe here?"
"What?"
"Here, at Foxfire."
…Did she?
She didn't know. It should've been long enough since– since she had been back in the Lost Cities; nothing could happen to her in Foxfire's halls, just like nothing could happen to her at Havenfield or Everglen.
Except something had happened to her at Havenfield. She had been kidnapped, and burned, and–
She forced herself to stop thinking about it, rubbing her arm. After Elwin was done, the scars had been fainter than she had expected, but they were still easy to see.
A hand touched her shoulder lightly, and she jolted a bit, looking back towards Tiergan, who had taken his hand off as soon as she moved, and now looked a bit chagrined.
"I'm sorry, Sophie. We failed to keep you safe, and it took too long to find you and Dex."
Huh? "'We'?"
"Just– grown-ups in general."
"You thought we were dead," she said, pulling her knees up to her chest.
"That's no excuse."
How long had they even been looking, before they had given up? She knew that they thought they had drowned, but when was that decided? It couldn't have been very long, if they had had time to plan for and have two funerals in just ten days; she didn't know much about the logistics of funerals, much less the logistics of elven funerals, but that seemed– awfully fast.
"I just– I just wish–"
Her words failed her, and she choked on a sob.
"Oh, Sophie," Tiergan said softly, and pulled her into a loose hug. She buried her face into his shoulder, tears starting to fall.
…
She pulled away after a few minutes, and Tiergan wordlessly handed her a handkerchief.
"Better?" He asked once she finished wiping her face.
"I think so," she said.
"That's good."
"Uh," she looked between him and the handkerchief, half outstretched, unsure if she should offer it back or not. It was a little bit gross now, should she take it home and wash it first…?
"Just keep it," Tiergan reassured. "I've got more."
"Thanks," she said, folding it and awkwardly cramming it in a pocket. "I'm sorry for bothering you with this…"
Tiergan laughed softly. "It's alright, Sophie. You're not the first teenager I've helped through their problems."
She had to wonder what he meant, for a second, before she remembered– not only had Tiergan formerly been a telepathy mentor at Foxfire, but he had raised Wylie, too. This probably hadn't even been the first time someone had cried on him.
"Ready to come in now?" Tiergan asked. "We still have about– oh, five minutes, before you need to head to your next class."
"…I'll just get a head start there."
He laughed, and pushed himself off the floor, offering her a hand. "I think that's a good idea."