#vs me not building a mug because I’m busy building plates

[claypigeonpottery]

ahhhh 😌

the relief of getting to build pottery again after… like three weeks 😬

finally starting on some commissions I’ve had on my whiteboard since 2024! feels good

[angstmongertina]

A Moment of Peace

I started this around the time the closed beta came out and didn’t actually finish until literally the night the game is released but oh well lol. But hey, I did finish before the game is released, at least?

Also, I used the name Artem because I didn't want to have to figure out how to deal with the Lawyer Zuo vs. Artem usage between Chinese and English.... and also because I couldn't remember Celestine's Chinese name lol.

Cross-posted on AO3.

Sometimes, she doesn’t know how he does it.

Actually, if she is to be perfectly honest with herself, most of the time, she doesn’t know how he does it.

Within the firm, she already has a reputation for putting in long hours. After all, as a relative newcomer to the Stellis legal scene, still only a few years out of law school herself, she knows that she still has plenty of work to do in order to establish herself in the field, to climb the ranks of the legal world and prove to the rest of Stellis City, as well as herself, that she deserves to be at Themis.

And even so, Artem still far outpaces her work ethic, leaving her to wonder more than once whether he ever actually leaves the building.

As such, it isn’t exactly surprising for her to leave the room and find the light still on in his office as she makes her way to the break room, an empty mug in one hand and her pile of notes in the other. After all, as she juggles between her cases and the upcoming attorney test, he is left picking up her slack, and while he might have volunteered more than once for the task with his usual calm expression, the concept of putting even more on his already full plate still sits poorly in her stomach.

Particularly since she has no clue where he’s even managing to squeeze the time to help her out of, given the seemingly endless collection of cases vying for his attention.

Pursing her lips, she contemplates the coffee machine for one, long, moment before shaking her head with more reluctance than she cares to admit against the siren call of caffeine. Instead, she reaches for the box of chamomile, a not-so-subtle gift from Celestine soon after her sudden and unexpected trip to the hospital—yet another of the now too many to count times that she has found herself in Artem’s debt—and prepares two mugs, breathing in the warm comforting aroma.

If she closes her eyes, she can almost imagine that she’s at home, decompressing after a productive day without a care in the world…

With a sigh, she shakes her head again, this time to clear the daydream from her mind. Soon, perhaps, but she has a mission to complete first.

Tucking her notes under her arm, she makes her careful way to his office, nudging the door lightly with her shoulder before stepping inside. “Artem?”

She’s not surprised to find him still hunched over his desk, hard at work despite the late hour. In fact, the only visible signs of the time are his jacket, carefully lain aside on the couch, and his head propped up in one hand as he makes notes on whatever document he is in the process of perusing. At her voice, he looks up, blinking a few times at her before he jerks upright and she can’t help but follow his hands with her gaze as they reach for his tie, fidgeting with it slightly before drifting down to tug at his shirt cuffs.

“I… Eliana?”

With a jolt, she snaps her eyes back up to find his lips set into his usual faint smile, though with something unfamiliar twisting their corners, something that disappears the next instant as his face smooths back out to inscrutability with truly enviable ease. “What are you still doing here?”

She blinks. For just a split second, his expression was odd, almost shy, although that conclusion makes absolutely no sense, and she shakes her head, though whether it’s at his question or to dislodge her irrelevant, uncontrolled thoughts, she can’t say. Instead, she sets her shoulders, pushing it to the back of her mind, and offers him a smile of her own. “I think I should be asking you that question. But first…”

She glances down and he starts again, eyes widening as he follows her gaze. ”Oh, right. My apologies. Please, come in.”

As he moves to rise to his feet, she steps forward, reaching out an arm to wave him off before remembering and freezing too late. She can only watch, muttering a silent prayer to the god of fluids, as the tea sloshes dangerously close to the rim of the mug before settling back down, thankfully—if barely—avoiding spilling over.

She does not miss the noise from the desk that sounds suspiciously like a muffled chuckle.

Studiously avoiding his gaze, she contemplates his desk and the neat piles of notes and evidence before turning instead to the couch and his comparatively less cluttered coffee table. While papers still pepper the surface, as they inevitably do during complicated cases, it is easy enough to push them gently to the side, making a point to keep them at least somewhat organized.

“What are you—?”

She looks up, meeting his bemused gaze with a cheerful smile. “Giving you a hand. I’m your partner, after all.”

One eyebrow quirked, he huffs something that might have been a laugh. “Oh? How so? I need to—”

“Take a break,” she interjects smoothly. “Celestine told me that she came in early and even so, you got in before she did this morning.”

Something crosses his face, so quickly that she can’t identify it, before he releases a gentle sigh, though with a hint of a smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Of course she did. Meddling as always.”

“She’s concerned about you. As am I.” Before he can so much as open his mouth, she shakes her head. “I know the report needs to be finished and I’m here to help, but first, you need to take a break.”

When he only frowns, she sighs herself, though hers is with more reluctance than anything, particularly as she recalls the advice Celestine had seen fit to gift her with, wearing an impish smirk all the while.

But with Artem’s own diligence working against her… Well, desperate times and all.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she tilts her head, aiming for her most beseeching expression. “Don’t you trust me?”

It works just as well as, if not better than, Celestine promised; she can see the exact moment her words register, his eyes widening to an almost comical extent as a flush darkens his cheeks. Her resolve nearly crumbles on the spot, held together only by the knowledge that she is putting on the pressure for his own good.

“I… You…” He coughs, shaking his head as his face somehow manages to redden even more, beyond what she thought was even possible. “Of course I…” He sighs again, this time ringing of defeat, and mutters something under his breath, too low for her to make out.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” He clears his throat, fidgeting once more with his tie before standing and stretching. “You’re right, of course.”

“Then come here.” She puts down the mugs, setting them side by side on the table, before plopping down on the couch and patting the spot next to her.

He sighs again, though it is belied by the warmth of his smile as he makes his way over, sitting down beside her with a long, slow exhale.

Glancing at him, she can’t help but frown. This close, it’s hard to miss the faint dark circles under his eyes, the strain tucked away in the corners of his mouth, the subtle signs of how much work he has been shouldering to help her. That Celestine noticed before she did, that she, his partner, needed it pointed out to her, is enough to make guilt, cold and swirling, pool in her gut.

“What’s the matter?”

And now he’s looking over her, brows pinched together with concern, and she almost denies everything on reflex before catching herself. Instead, she lets the worry she feels filter into her expression as she turns to face him fully.

“How late have you been staying? Are you that busy right now?”

The questions seem to catch him off guard; he shifts, a fleeting look of guilt, or perhaps shame, darting across his face before he smiles, a small, almost helpless curl of his mouth.

“I… would be lying if I said that I have a light load at the moment.”

It is not a direct admission, but also not prevarication either, and she can’t decide whether to be grateful or worried that he is even willing to admit how swamped he is, albeit in a roundabout sort of way. Grateful, since acknowledging the fact allows her to help, and worried because… Well, he must truly and rapidly be approaching overwhelmed to admit to such a thing so readily.

Taking a deep breath, she stamps down on the urge to apologize, though whether for forcing the admission or for not noticing earlier, not even she’s sure. Instead, she reaches for her mug, cradling its warmth between her palms before taking a slow sip. The warm, gentle fragrance fills her senses and she lets out a slow sigh of relief, feeling the stress of the day dissipate with the curling steam.

“You sound like you needed that.”

She feels her mouth curl into a smile without conscious thought and nods at the way he holds his, with almost reverence in his expression. “You as well.”

He inclined his head, a hint of a smile on his own lips. “Touché. It is very good though.”

“Celestine gave it to me, as a welcome back gift after…” She waves her hand vaguely, fighting the heat that, for some reason, wants to rise in her face every time she remembers that frantic, foolish trip to the hospital.

“Ah. Right.” Is it her imagination or do his cheeks also seem to flush as he takes another sip? “Well, it’s very good. And you could definitely use it.”

She clears her throat, determinedly putting it out of mind. “So could you, considering you’re still here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And you’re not?” His expression is almost a smirk as he nods towards her notes. “Still studying, I presume.”

“Oh. Yes.” She sighs again, putting her strangely loud pulse at his expression out of her mind and instead contemplating the pile of papers with something that feels vaguely like exasperation mixed with a hint of despair. “There’s just so much to review.”

But before she can actually pick them up, he reaches over, snagging them before she can, and flips through her scribbled comments and answers.

“Hey!”

She makes a grab for them but he turns away, just enough to be slightly out of reach, as he flips through them, his brow furrowed in either disapproval or concentration. “There is nothing for you to be concerned about.” He turns a page, scanning over the script with his typical intense scrutiny before nodding. “Thorough and carefully thought out, just as you’ve always done. I have no doubt you’ll—”

He cuts himself off when she leans over until her weight is practically resting on his side. Frozen as he is, she is finally able to reclaim the packet and grins at him, though whether she’s flushed from exertion, the small victory, or their sudden closeness, she can’t be sure.

“You…”

“You are supposed to be resting, not taking precious time to help me with studying.” He’s still just watching her, sea blue eyes wide with a mix of surprise and what on anyone else, she would call embarrassment, and part of her wants to twist away, to hide both the papers and her red cheeks from his piercing gaze, but something about his presence, his closeness, has her pinned into place; she’s not sure she can even if she tried. “I can...”

“You can study later as well.” His lips curl into a smile, small but true, and she can feel her breath catch in her throat at the tenderness shining in it, can feel her heart hammering in her chest, so loud that it’s a wonder he doesn’t hear it. “If I need a break, then so do you. I know you have been just as diligent in the past weeks.”

“I… will.”

“Good.” His smile widens, full of gentleness and approval and something more, something that she doesn’t dare—that she can’t dare—put a name to, but which shines like the sun, filling her with warmth, bringing heat to her cheeks, even as she has to avert her gaze from its brilliant radiance.

Still, the quiet that settles over them, a soft blanket against the threat of another late night, is calm, comfortable. She cradles the cup between her palms, feels the heat radiating out with the steam that curls in the air before her, pale and ephemeral in the silence that she is loathe to break.

Not now, while the weight of the day slowly dissipates from her shoulders, while her breathing settles and calms, matching the steady inhales at her side. The office, the city, the rest of the world even, fade away until there is nothing but the rapid beating of her heart and the warmth of the man beside her, his rich cedar scent mixing with the fragrance of her tea, his quiet breathing aligned with her own, his constant care and steadiness.

In this moment, it would be easy, so easy, to just lean her head down a little and let it drop onto his shoulder.

And so she does.

For a heartbeat, he tenses under its weight and she nearly recoils, an apology on the tip of her tongue, but before she can, he relaxes again, even as his exhale ruffles her hair. “And you were planning on going back to studying immediately?”

“Mm.”

She feels more than hears the low rumble of his chuckle, feels the warmth of his shoulder against her cheek shifting as he settles more comfortably. Feels her heartbeat speed up as a gentle weight presses against her temple, a soft sigh sounding in her ear.

Feels a smile tug on her lips as she closes her eyes and lets herself rest.