Nessiah is known as a talented prophet more from his massive reserves of experience to draw on than from real abilities to tell the future on a moment’s notice. He can predict, but he can’t pinpoint.
It doesn’t take a prophet to know that if matters continue the way they are, Emilia’s blood will overwhelm her. It takes a strong person to control the power of Brongaa’s blood, and she currently believes that she’s weak, and that her only real use is in combat. Now that Aegina has been reunited with her sister and made peace with her father, there’s not nearly as much combat going on.
Nessiah knows that she’ll lose control, but he doesn’t know when, and that’s dangerous. A rampaging Emilia could throw a serious wrench in any plans of his, not even counting the effect it would have on Garlot.
So, he thinks it’s best to step in.
“Emilia,” he says to her one evening. “Could I ask you for a favor?”
Emilia’s expression lifts a little. “What’d you want?”
“I’ve torn a hole in my robes, here.” He lifts a part of his robes to show a rather large hole in them. “But I’m quite fond of these, so would you help me sew a patch on?”
She tilts her head to the side. “I don’t know how to sew, though.”
“No? It’s a useful skill to have. Would you like me to teach you how?” he asks.
“Hm… Okay! If it’s useful,” she says, as he thought she might.
It takes a while to teach her just how to thread the needle. She squints and struggles with the needle’s eye before eventually being able to get the thread through consistently. “I did it!” she says, and looks to him for praise.
“Good work.” He pats her head gently, and she laughs.
Comparatively, stitching is easy. She hums to herself as she sews all around the patch, only running into trouble when it’s time to tie the thread off. It takes her a bit to get a decent knot, but once it’s done she beams. “That was easy!”
“And yet so many people don’t know how.” Nessiah pretends to think for a moment. “I’m sure many of our friends have clothes that are in need of repair. Perhaps you should ask if there’s anything you can fix up for them?”
Emilia runs off.
“...Not necessarily this second…”
She comes back with two shirts (Jenon’s and Mizer’s), one of Siskier’s favorite scarves, a dress that is too fancy to belong to anyone but Eater, and three pairs of pants (all Garlot’s). Nessiah walks her through sewing up tears, how to stitch close together so that the hole doesn’t just open back up again.
Emilia accidentally pricks herself with the needle. “Ouch!”
“Are you alright?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “I can take a poke in the finger!”
“It’s fine to admit it if it does hurt,” he says. “Adults like to pretend they aren’t in pain, at times, but it’s very foolish of them when they do.”
“It’s just a needle.” She sticks her tongue out at him. “I wanna keep going.”
“...Hee. As you wish.”
Emilia doesn’t have the neatest needlework Nessiah’s ever seen, but that’s not the reason he asked her this. It won’t be the last favor he asks her for, either. If he can impress upon her that she has more value than simply as a tool in combat, she might calm down enough that he won’t have to worry about her exploding unexpectedly.
Besides which, he needed that hole in his robes fixed anyway.