Xaviers!

Nika, without any clue about what to do and where to go from here, does the only thing that makes sense to her. Get back to honing her body into shape after the numerous injuries she's suffered. The bullet-wound is mostly healed, but she still has countless cuts and bruises, a stitched up muscle in her leg that pulls every time she moves, a couple pulled tendons and a mild concussion. As much as she wants to push herself hard, she's also not a complete idiot, so she's on a mat in the Rec Center, doing some very light and focused exercises. Granted, for every stretch she does the ring of metal rods around her snaps up into the ceiling or back down to the mat and the ring of shallow holes in both ceiling and mat shows she's not always perfect about stopping them.

"You'd probably do better if you focused on one thing," a voice comes from the side of the room.

"I can... do these stretches in my sleep..." she huffs without looking up. "And I need to... be able to use my power... alongside my body. The instinct for most people with... mental powers... is to freeze up."

Only after finishing out her set does she straighten up and look at Isolde.

"So is the point not to get it right? Or were you hoping to berate yourself for being sloppy?"

A tall and imposing dark-haired woman is standing at the edge of the room, arms crossed. There's a hint of a German accent.

"The point is to rehabilitate my injuries. And no offense, you don't look like a physio-therapist." she says, catching her breath.

"Do they normally leave you out of breath?"

"They do when I've been shot and stabbed recently, yes. I know my form is shit, that's why I'm working on it."

"That's not what you're doing," she says flatly.

"Then what am I doing, huh?" Nika asks, not even trying to hide her annoyance.

"Hiding," the woman says, unfolding her arms and approaching.

"Badly," she adds.

"No shit. I'm in the middle of the damn room." Nika deflects.

"What will you do when you're recovered? What's the distraction then? Or are you just hoping this will solve itself in the meantime?"

Nika narrows her eyes. "And what exactly do you think I'm distracting myself from?"

"A problem. A boy. A girl. Possibly all three."

"A job." she corrects Isolde and regrets it immediately. "And it's not up to me if I get to keep it."

"So that's who you're avoiding."

"Going to have your... performance judged?"

"I betrayed her. Besides, she doesn't need me anymore."

"Don't want to prove yourself to her?"

"I saved her life. But it doesn't matter, she doesn't trust me anymore and she has every reason no to."

"She's told you this, then?"

"I talked to her on the phone. She didn't have to outright say it. I can read between the lines."

"Yes, you're clearly an expert in the subtle arts."

"I may not be subtle but I know when I'm not wanted anymore."

"So you've decided for her."

"Fuck you, lady!" she snaps, pulling herself up from the mat. "I should still be in jail for what I've done, not even daring to bed forgiveness."

"I'm aware of what you think you deserve."

"Really, do you now? Who exactly are you that you think you know everything about me?"

"I'm someone who's very familiar with running from her problems rather than dealing with them."

"<And I'm older than the borders between your nation and Lord Doom's fief.>" she says in Symkarian, albeit an antiquated and perhaps overly formal dialect.

"<Great, I'll put you in contact with our historical society.>" Nika snarks back. "<And it doesn't matter if I'm running from my problems or not. I'm a fugitive from my own land and my betrayal of Princess and Country is unforgiveable.>"

"<Think for a moment. If anyone who mattered thought for a second you were a danger to her, would you still be where she is?>"

"<It's not about being a threat. She cannot trust me anymore and I'm not making the call for her. I'm not sure I can trust myself!>" she bursts out with poorly concealed surprise at her own realization.

"<Then it's not about country, but it might be about the princess.>"

"<So what? It doesn't matter anymore.>"

"<If that's what you're telling yourself to keep from getting hurt.>"

"<And what if it is. I dedicated my life to protecting her and I threw it all away because she...>" Nika sniffs and wipes at her face to compose herself. "<Because of some head-in-the-clouds idealist who thinks you can just change up anything and everything!>"

"<I assume the traditional way is to never tell her how you feel and pine away stoically?>"

"<The traditional way is that this is not something that happens or exists in Symkaria.>"

"<Oh come now, I've been to Symkaria and I can offer firsthand evidence that's not true.>"

Nika stares at Isolde.

"<And I can send a pen through a steel plate. Some aberrations are more tolerated than others.>"

"<I narrowly escaped being burned at the stake for kissing a girl. Tolerance is a sliding scale.>"