[ inspiring. that's one way to phrase the chiming chorus of voices and viveca's own instructions. alina's lips tip upward, a small smile that's almost conspiratorial. ]

They do know how to motivate us.

[ a fast learner. the second army's expectations of her still feel so recent, heavy with every fresh loss a new day would bring. sometimes, she can still sense ivan's piercing gaze aimed at her chest like the point of a hot knife, sharpened with accusations. slicing her with his blame, faulting her for each grisha casualty piling up beyond the little palace's walls. baghra had been no better, but —

a sharp pang radiates her, thinking of what she might say if she were here. how she might scoff and correct peter, fully aware of how long it had taken alina to grasp the threads of her power to weave them into something more resilient, more in control. ]

You're giving me too much credit. Don't call it a pleasure until we've started lessons. [ carefully, she slides into the space he's made for her beside him with a rueful smile. a little awkwardly, her hands clasp in her lap, resisting the urge to reach out and strike the keys. ] Alina Starkov. Where do we start?