(Apologies in advance for the scene's length.)

Bahyra sat at the edge of the deck, listening to the quiet murmur of voices and the occasional hum of machinery beneath. She was seated on a cheap, plastic-metal chair, one leg crossed over the other as if she were still the most respected woman in the country. It was almost impressive; she maintained her composure despite her throne of choice. 

Donia stood slightly to her left, her hands folded together in front of her stomach. “Is Thorn toying around with her room again?” Donia questioned, one of her feet tapping in a quiet rhythm on the ground. Bahyra gave her head a small, barely perceptible shake. “She’s raking.” 

Donia squinted off into the distance. “So she is. I thought you’d give her more time to toy with her room.” Donia mused. Bahyra shook her head. “She’s an apprentice. An apprentice’s job is to work, yes?”

Donia made a small, slightly chuffing laugh. “An apprentice’s job is to learn from her master. Don’t you want to be down there with her?” Donia asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Bahyra exhaled. “Our responsibility was hard work, Donia.” Bahyra half-lectured, one of her fingers moving side to side against the cheap chair’s arm. 

Donia tilted her head to the side, her hands unclasping. “Was hard work, madame? The world isn’t quite that way anymore.” Donia noted. 

Bahyra leaned forwards in her chair, staring out over the lawn and old, leafless trees. “As much as we hide for the time being, the world will return to that old way again. We’re still the ‘coven’ that used to provide advice, yes?” Bahyra placed every one of her words carefully, as if she’d spent an hour of thought on them instead of a few seconds. Donia paused, allowing her gaze to wander across the lawn. She could faintly see Thorn’s silhouette in the distance, struggling with the rake. The young apprentice didn’t have to use such an outdated thing; Bahyra had likely made her do it as some sort of lesson.

“She’s young. Nobody knows when we’ll matter again, despite our predictions and the way the war is spinning currently.” Donia offered her words, her eyebrows raised. Bahyra leaned back, bobbing her head up and down. “And you want me to leave the apprentice unprepared for when those years do come?” Bahyra spoke back.

“There’s still time to allow her to relax.” Donia protested, tossing her hands in the air. Bahyra shook her head. “It would reflect badly on me.” Bahyra’s response came back too quick, too rushed.

Donia pursed her lips, her eyes widening. “Madame?” She mumbled, pressing her fingertips together. Bahyra heaved a sigh, then looked to Donia for her response.

“Why you? What about the girl? Doesn’t this seem selfish?” Donia asked, her words coming out in a rush. Bahyra held up one hand. 

“I’m aware of my status here. Even you  call me madame, instead of sister or Bahyra. If something were to happen to…” Bahyra paused. “If something were to happen to Thorn, it wouldn’t be because of something she did. It would be because of my own mistake or my own name.” Bahyra explained. Donia began to open her mouth, when Bahyra shook her head yet again.

“While Thorn is my apprentice, we both represent each other. Every mistake I make, as your...as this ‘leader’, of sorts...  Will fall on her head.” Bahyra pulled at her own hair, reclining in her chair. “She has to worry about my mistakes as much as I worry for her’s. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

“And when are you planning on telling her this?”

Bahyra didn’t answer.