[Old] Mini Missions

There was something sacred about Luka's flat.

Of course everyone's space felt special to them - felt holy. Each one was carved and shaped by the personalities of the inhabitants. Zhar's home, for example, was a seamless mix of the study and practical, and the bizarrely beautiful. They were intimate spaces to be invited into. And yet, kamis entered those spaces all the time - Sigrun had been to spaces numerous times. The late nights spent huddled on Zhar's ancient yet sinfully comfortable sofa. Early mornings sat around the tiny bistro table in Sigrun's flat, debating on what defines a sandwich or whether an arrow makes a good substitute for a dart. She'd even spent the night at one of Kanaya's temporary camps. 

But this? This was different. 

Luka's home was untouched ground. A place that only Kanaya and Zhar had ever been invited inside. A hallowed home, closed off to all but a select few. If Luka hadn't personally escorted her up, Sigrun might have turned tail and run with her cold feet.

---

She took off her shoes as instructed, leaving them next to two pairs of boots that clearly didn’t belong to Luka (one pair were sturdy yet scuffed and dusty, the other caked in so much mud it was hard to make out any part of the original boot) which lay next to the rack that was stacked full of shoes that were hers. Or at least, most of them seemed to be. Sigrun doubted Luka would wear a pair of work boots with a large burn mark on the right ankle.

“Make yourself at home!” Luka called over her shoulder as she strolled out of Sigrun's sight. 

Distantly she could hear a low murmur of voices caught in a heated debate. Too low and indistinct to truly identify the speaker or what exactly was being said. But it didn't matter. Only two other individuals were likely to be in the flat. And as for the what? Well that hardly mattered. They were all known for getting weirdly heated over the most minute of things. 

She turned her attention towards the decor around her.

White polished floorboards were paired with white painted walls that almost seemed to shimmer, separated only by the black skirting boards. There were no rugs or the like covering the floor, yet Sigrun only felt warmth radiating through the thin barrier of her socks. Underfloor heating perhaps? She wouldn't be surprised.

To one side was a sunken seating area, empty as her friends were clearly in the kitchen judging by the noise. Or rather she thought it was empty. Two small golden eyes peered over the back of the sofa. They weren't the eyes of a Toybi - or at least any Toybi that Sigrun had ever seen. Whatever it was, it stared with a heavy and judgemental gaze. Like it was searching for something. It must have been satisfied with what it found (or didn't find) as the creature just let out a light, almost dismissive, snort and disappeared from sight - no doubt laying back down onto the couch where it had previously been hidden. 

A noise from the kitchen (which lay in the opposite direction) held her back from investigating the creature further. It wasn't a noise of pain or distress (more so a noise of indignation) so she wasn't in any kind of hurry. She took her time, trying to fully take in her surroundings.

The kitchen, much like the sitting area, was barely separated from the main area. Only an island counter indicated the boundary. The cabinets were all painted black, adorned with brass fittings which matched the taps and faucet of the sink. The counter tops were all made of a white stone - possibly marble, but Sigrun couldn't be certain without a closer look. Her friends were there (just as predicted), huddled around the stove in some kind of heated discussion. Sigrun caught bits and pieces (“- is not a spice, you dingus!” “Then why do you find it in the spice aisle?!” “That's not-”) but she really didn't care about their arguments. 

There was a table in what must have been a dining area - black of course. Six chairs were sat around the table, all in various states of disarray. Some were clearly used to hold clothes, with stacks of shirts or jackets drapped over their backs. Some were still tucked neatly under the table while others were pulled out. One was even reversed, its back facing the table while its seat pointed away. The more you looked, the more lived in the flat appeared. 

The table was littered with arrow parts - shafts, heads, feathers - and arrows in various stages of production, marked with a set of unique markings. A sketchbook of armour and weapon designs was sat opposite the arrow parts, open to a page that also included rough portraits of Luka and Kanaya, sat so close to each other they may have been embraced. Various sunglasses of different styles and brands were scattered between everything - likely just thrown there while Luka was passing. There were several scratches and chips taken out of the table's top… some even looked like stab marks. Similar marks were on the wall behind the table, along with a clear fist imprint that had been surrounded by an empty wooden frame as a clear joke. 

It wasn't the only frame on the wall either (although it was the only empty frame). Almost every available space on the white washed walls was occupied by a framed photograph. Precious memories, captured and framed for all to see. All of them featured various mixes of the girls - the three all dressed up and ready for a night on the town, Kanaya and Zhar locked in a fierce arm wrestling match, Zhar and Luka dancing wildly in the living room of the former (Sigrun would recognise that couch anywhere even when it's pushed up against a wall to make room for an impromptu dance floor), Luka and Kanaya grinning wildly at the camera while Zhar was slumped over a table, asleep with empty glasses and coasters stacked atop her head. Sigrun was shocked and surprised to see her own face staring back at her in some of the photographs - most from nights out, dressed to the nines with a full face of make up and looking her best. Luka had felt that she was important enough to hang on the walls? To invite into her home?

Did she l-

“Oi Sigrun!” Bellowed Luka, shaking her from her thoughts. “Quit gawking at the walls and get in here! I need someone on my side!”

There was the sound of a scuffle before someone - Zhar she realised - shouted back.

“You take her side and I'm filing for divorce!”

Sigrun laughed and shook her head. Thoughts, doubts, and what ifs were left behind and forgotten. There were more important things to do. Like get into silly arguments over mundane things.