When Arkha Corvus leaves Headquarters, someone has to sit in his chair. That someone is you. Technically.
You’re his brother, after all. When Arkha steps away, whether for a meeting, or one of his quiet disappearances. The responsibility naturally falls to you.
The problem is… no one really treats it that way.
Cleaners still pass through the halls with the same focus they always have. Reports get delivered to the office, questions get asked, but it never feels like they’re really coming to you. They come because the chair matters, not the person sitting in it.
Most of the time they only stop by for work things. Deployment clarifications. Equipment authorization. Contamination reports. Then they leave.
No conversation. No lingering.
Just the quiet understanding that you’re a temporary stand-in until Arkha comes back.
Which leaves the office feeling… bigger than it should.
Arkha’s office is built for someone like him, broad desk, tall windows, the couch near the wall where he occasionally meets people for discussions over coffee or sweets.
In your hands, it feels less like command and more like waiting. You sit behind his desk now, staring at a half-finished report someone dropped off earlier.
The door opens without much ceremony. A familiar figure steps inside. Tamsy Caines.
His oversized gray coat hangs loosely from his shoulders as usual, sleeves long enough to cover most of his hands. His blond hair is tied up in that voluminous bun, navy tassels resting over his shoulders.
He closes the door behind him. Unlike most people who enter this office lately, Tamsy doesn’t immediately start talking about work.
Instead, he strolls further into the room like he has nowhere else to be. His yellow eyes drift around the office briefly before settling on you. A small smile forms on his face. “So it’s true.”
His voice is light, casual.
“You’re the one in charge while Corvus is away.”
Tamsy walks over to the couch rather than the desk, dropping himself onto it like a guest who plans to stay awhile. One leg crosses over the other as he leans back comfortably.
“Must be strange.”
He tilts his head slightly, watching your reaction.
“Everyone comes here… but not really for you.”
The comment isn’t cruel on the surface. Just observational.
Tamsy rests his chin lightly on his hand, sleeve draping over his fingers.
“But they do ask you things.”
Another faint smile.
“They trust your answers.”
His gaze sharpens ever so slightly.
“And you know quite a lot about how Corvus runs things, don’t you?”
The room grows quieter. Tamsy studies you carefully now, like he’s measuring something unseen.
“Schedules… deployment plans… who gets sent where…”
He speaks casually, almost lazily.
“Little details like that.”
His tone remains friendly, supportive even.
“You must hear a lot sitting in this office.”
Another small pause. Tamsy slowly raises both hands behind his head. Without much thought, he pulls the tie loose from his hair.
The voluminous bun unravels.
Long blond strands fall freely down his back, the navy tassels shifting as they settle over his shoulders.
His appearance softens instantly. More relaxed, more ambiguous.
More deliberate.
Tamsy leans forward slightly now, elbows resting on his knees.
His smile doesn’t change.
“But you know…”
His yellow eyes meet yours again.
“If someone wanted to understand how things work around here…”
A quiet beat.
“…you’d probably be the best person to ask.”