“Hey Slick, Slick - er, the other Slick - just told me we’re not supposed to have disciples any more,” Breza said, her arms crossed. “What’s the deal? I know maybe I missed a meeting or two, but what happened?”
Dia let out a slow breath through her nose as she untangled the nicknames. Breza had the annoying habit of referring to both her and Diza as ‘Slick.’. “You’re just now finding this out?”
“Well, yeah. S’not like I was just sitting on it, waiting to jump you with it.”
“It’s been that way for a while.” Dia looked up, trawling backwards through her memory. “As I recall, I think we passed that edict after what happened with Ithria and her disciple.”
Breza tilted her head to the side. “Of course it’s Mohawk’s fault. What did she do?”
“Well, she got completely hammered–”
“Not strange for her.”
“–and went and got herself a disciple. Then she forgot she had one until the poor mortal died. When he came to us for his judgment, he was quite forceful about demanding an explanation.”
“You…” Breza watched Dia for a second, scanning her face for any signs of a joke. “You’re being serious about this, aren’t you?”
“When am I not serious, Breza?”
A snort escaped Breza’s lips, which quickly became full-on laughter. “I can’t believe Mohawk did something so… so boneheaded! Y’know what, I don’t even care that we can’t have disciples anymore! That’s amazing!”
“I’m glad you think so.”