Chapter Text
Fluixon was nodding off. Again.
It was instinct at this point. Jophiel’s elbow jabbed out, jutting into Fluixon’s side, the one spot armor didn’t cover. He jolted awake, a brief flash of panic in his eyes, before he slowly processed the space around them. Jophiel frowned at them and they looked away.
So. How did she get this job again? To make sure the gods damned Praetor xemself didn’t doze off during important meetings?
Well. Saps, apparently.
Jophiel thought she had worked hard for this role, she really, really did. She had to work harder- harder than anyone else in her cohort to get here. She thought. As many legacies she’s encountered, no one has really reached her rank. And she was especially proud of herself. She was more mortal than god, after all. She didn’t have the same capabilities as her peers, no matter how much she tried to convince herself bending a little light was interesting.
She was… happy. She supposed. She got what she wanted in the end. Isn’t that what mattered? She was a centurion, and as Fluixon’s advisor, she even had a chance at becoming Praetor in the future. That had to mean something, right?
But did it really have to take someone betraying the Legion for Jophiel to earn it?
Had Jophiel really earned it?
Penelope was still talking and now Jophiel felt like a hypocrite. So lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even processed a word the other centurion had said. She pinched herself, a reminder to not get lost in her thoughts. She was better than that. Penelope deserved the respect she had earned. And gods Jophiel was going to give it to her if no one else would. That’s the least she could do.
In the corner of her eye, the Praetor’s head was drooping again. She could just leave him. It’s a thought she’s had enough times to warrant action. If xe didn’t want to be actively engaged, then so be it. It was her role on the line, not really Jophiel’s.
Not really.
Jophiel was their advisor. Jophiel had a duty, one to ensure the Praetor knew what she needed to know, could do what xe needed to do, and could lead how he needed to lead. If Jophiel failed even that simple of a role, then that was added to the reasons why she hardly deserved the role of centurion.
She brought her fingers in front of Fluixon’s face and snapped several times, “Fluixon. Flux."
She knew they hated that name, something they had slowly and begrudgingly allowed people to start calling them over time. But it got their attention well enough to satisfy her. Xeir head snapped back up once again and xe blinked several times. Jophiel’s brows knit together, that familiar frustration bubbling up in her chest again.
“Pay attention.”
His dark eyes flickered away and Jophiel turned her attention one last time to Penelope. The notebook and pen in her lap felt weightless and she didn’t dare to look down and see the emptiness on the pages that would meet her gaze. She was failing. Failing Penelope. Failing herself. Failing Fluixon. Failing the cohort that had elected her.
Did she deserve this?