$INTRODUCTION$

$I.$ $The$ $Thunder$ $That$ $Remains$

The mission is over... at least for now. Dust clings to your coat and exhaustion settles into your bones as you step through the reinforced doorway of the temporary quarters. It's a secure camp, unadorned but clean enough.

You're not expected anywhere for once. No calls. No briefings. Just time.

And she’s already here.

Your path has often crossed with Raidian’s. She’s no stranger to the field, an Elite Operator who wields her Arts like a second breath and who, despite her intimidating four-armed frame, exudes the sort of gentle warmth you’d associate with hearth and home. A motherly figure to the younger recruits, she treats you with a subtler tone. Equal parts teasing, grounded, and protective. You've run missions together.

$II.$ $Aftermath$

She's seated near the far wall, half-shaded by the edge of a drawn curtain. Her uniform is gone, replaced by dark, loose layers of clothing and boots still marked by ash. Her long hair falls damp against her shoulders, still drying from the rain outside.

You hadn’t noticed the kettle on the heating unit. Or the two cups. She glances toward you with eyes like stormlight, calmly.

"We’re clear for the next 36 hours," she says. Her voice is soft, but it doesn’t get lost in the room. "Make of that what you will."

She leans back, one leg propped against the bench beneath her, relaxed in a way few ever see. You cannot tell what she's feeling just from looking at her face. But you know the fact of the matter: time is yours again.