Thirty was just a number, a number that was still too small for her to be accepted as an adult by her race. It was a number that had no bearing on the maturity she felt she'd attained a number of arcs ago. Oh, she still had plenty to learn, plenty of wisdom to suck up like the happy little sponge that she was but some arbitrary digit didn't determine her adulthood. Had she not made adult decisions? Was she not engaged to Virikai now? Was she not living with him (albeit under coercion)? In her own eyes, the scholar was old enough but not to the rest of her race.
In truth, it wasn't an important birth-trial, it didn't have the same significance that the next one would have, after all, it was only a commemoration of when she'd entered this world. It wasn't a time to get excited about and she doubted that Virikia would make a fuss about it. She didn't want him to, given that in her mind, this trial was as equally mixed up with life as it was with death: to-trial, her mother had been dead for thirty arcs.
The young woman was sombre as she pulled herself from bed, taking the time to wash slowly and methodically, taking care as she ran information about her degree through her head. She tried to debate mentally with herself, to puzzle over old arguments, anything that would keep her mind occupied so she couldn't dwell on less pleasant matters. She made a real effort to discipline her mind while she dressed simply and padded quietly out of her room, heading for the dining table where she imagined she'd find Virikai. It was still early enough but didn't know what he'd gotten up to on the previous evening. Although they lived together, she could have privacy when she wished it, time to herself; she wasn't joined at the hip with the man after all. Still, she imagined that he'd be awake and up before her, hopefully not plotting some sort of surprise. The Eídisi didn't think that she could handle surprises to-trial.
She walked into the dining room with an unhappy expression, an atmosphere in her wake that told of the rain cloud of misery she tugged along with her. Even without using Xypha on her, Virikai would likely know how she was feeling. However, without it, he might grasp neither the full magnitude of her misery and despair nor the guilt that she carried with her. It was not a pleasant trial for her and one that she wished to get over with. However, just as she stepped through, a slave approached, bowing low, no doubt ready to discover what might interest her in terms of food. His immediate concern appeared to be a letter though, one with familiar handwriting that only made the corners of her mouth take an even greater downturn.
"I'll just have something simple to eat, thank you. And some tea," she murmured, although her eyes were transfixed on the envelope that she didn't appear to have any pressing desire to open, holding it tentatively by one corner as if it was dirty or she anticipated it turning around and biting her.
"Right away, my lady," the slave murmured. For once, she didn't take note of the use of 'lady,' an honorific that they'd begun using out of respect for her fiancé. She was just too concerned with the letter to notice.