Blissfully Unaware

“Me? I do, but dunno why.” He said honestly, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah. Plants, sometimes. Literally grew magic weed.” He said with a bit of a laugh. “Yeah. We’re real. And… A lot of other things from the stories are real too.” He continued. “Yeah. Of course, I made it for you.” He said with a soft smile. “You can hold the flame too, if you want. It’s not hot.”

“Magic weed?” Blaike had come across a lot of blends before, magic weed had never been one of them. Though she was sure some of the people she bought and sold for would claim it. “W-what is that..- You’re not making any sense. Stories?” A soft smile pressed her lips, something less than natural entering her lungs, forced out a moment later by a rough cough. The sharp, hot stabbing in her chest pulled her arm in quickly, Blaike almost refusing to give into it. “Hold it? How am I supposed to do that?”

There wasn’t a thing in the world that could have prepared her for what lay beneath the torn fragments of clothing, her stomach almost immediately turning over. She wouldn’t be sick, not over this. How would she make it through any of this, if she couldn’t handle a little blood.. and bone.. and everything else that lay beneath human flesh. Blaike had never really paid much attention to biology. “Not really.” She choked back, wiping her sweaty palms across the thigh of her jeans before she pulled the old bandage out of his hands. “I was taking photos for my portfolio.. Kind of wandered off from the people I came with.” People she would look for, as soon as she was sure the makeshift bandage would hold. Swallowing, the smell of iron hitting her was soon masked by her own movement, causing the air around them to swirl as she tore the slightly cleaner material in her hand into strips. Busying herself as she slowly, and as carefully as she could began wrapping the loosely hanging fingers, the brunette unable to help herself from looking as she covered the wounds. Could they even be called that? Generally, wounds could heal. Severed fingers, was that even possible? “Ahead of time..--” She laughed lightly, her chest tightening as she did. He spoke as though he’d been through this before, as though he’d asked for any kind of warning from someone else. ”Do you usually get much warning whe..--” 

“I don’t know, maybe you should be locked up for those. You’re a danger to sciety with those stunnign good looks.” He laughed a little with her, stopping when she did, his heart hurting, metaphorically of course, at the obvious sign of pain. At her confusion he smiled sheepishly, gently setting the lily in her hand, the metal still a little warm. “Magic. I can uh, control fire pretty well.” He said, a flame popping up in his hand, no warmer than the metal lily he’d assembled, glowing blue, then green, then red, then purple, flickering a myriad of colors.

“I’m sure I’m a damned sight better than most right now, so you might have a point.” Little did she know the bluish tinge to her lips was spreading, her features becoming more ashen the longer they sat there. Her hand shook beneath the woven flower, tentative fingertips brushing over the edges, barely feeling the slight warmth they held. “How is that..--- You can control fire?” Hues switching between the flower and the flame, she felt her head spin, the brunette stuttering over words she wasn’t sure made any sense at all. “What does that.. you’re not.. what are you?”

“Good plan. You’re easier to find if you stay in one place.” The witch said with a faint smile. Her voice was softer, which worried him, but there wasn’t anything else he could do at this point. “A lily. Okay. Now, watch, and don’t touch, okay?” His other hand came off her waist, warming up the metal with his magic, then carefully folding and bending the piece into a lily. It wasn’t the most accurate depiction, nor the cleanest, but it certainly resembled one. The metal lost it’s red glow, the metal hardening as West cooled it rapidly with his magic, cradling the flower in his palms.

“I’m not a criminal mastermind because of my looks.” She replied, her chuckle broken as her insides protested, her arm snaking around her waist. If this was how she was going to feel for the days to come, she was already dreading it. “Uh..-- okay?” Blaike spoke quietly. She had no idea how long she stared, how long it took him, or how long since finished the broken debris had transformed, but her mouth hung open, the brunette unable to find words. “How did you..-- impossible..” Lifting her hand, she reached out hesitantly. “-- Can I..?”

“Does it still hurt a lot?” He asked tentatively. “That’s for damn sure, I’m sure they’re okay. Probably out looking for you right now, worried sick. But there’s nothing to worry about, right? Just a little banged up.” The witch said, rambling a little, not sure if he was saying it for his benefit or hers at this point. “Well, I guess it’s not something I can tell you, so much as show you.” He told her, stretching a hand out and grabbing a piece of ripped metal that lay on the ground beside them. “What’s your favorite flower?” He asked, trying to keep his tone light.

It was ebbing, though slowly but surely, the ache grew. “No.” She was fine, she had to be. Movement was possible, she was breathing, which was more than she could say for some others. “They’ll find me, if we stay..-- they’ll find me.” She said, almost sleepily. Blaike didn’t really understand what he meant, leaning forward slightly, despite the ache, with a hiss. Eying the metal, she cast him a look that conveyed her confusion perfectly. “-- A lily.. Lame, I know.. I just.. I was a kid that adored her older sister. Lilies just.. make sense.”

“We shouldn’t be doing anything. You need to relax.” He told her, holding her close when she cuddled into him, stroking her hair with his hand. “It’s alright. I haven’t seen them, but I’m sure they’ll be okay.” He really wasn’t sure, but she really didn’t need to deal with anything more right now. West caught the shiver, wrapping his arms around her as tight as he dared, using the smallest bit of magic to warm her a little. She was going to die unless someone stronger found them, but at least she could be as comfortable as he could manage. “Hey, want to hear a secret?” Godfrey asked with as much of a smile as he could manage.

“I’m okay.. I’m okay, West. Just for a minute, we can’t just sit here while..--” She trailed off, having lost her own train of thought, unable to bring herself back to it. Fumbling teeth scraped over her lip and she allowed herself to simply be held. How she’d allowed it, she wasn’t sure. There was no attitude, no sass, she couldn’t find it in her to be any of those things. The sudden need for comfort beyond anything she could comprehend. “You’re probably right. We’re fighters you know.. Us Knights. Never done anything but.” Craning her neck a little at his question, a small wince crossing her features at what she could only assume would be bruising ached in her chest. “It’s not a secret if you tell me -- but yeah.”

Good question. Eight years prior her parents had disappeared on a job. Personal code had kept Letha from seeking them out immediately. Maybe eight years ago they were still alive. Eight years ago when they were tracking something up this way. She was sure they were gone now, disposed of in some unceremonious way that suggested whatever had killed them didn’t care about the daughter left behind. Didn’t care that they had a family. “They disappeared when I was twenty,” Letha sighed brushing strands of her hair from her eyes. She was suddenly aware of how chilly it seemed outside, despite everything that happened … or how oddly quiet it was here, with the girl. “She did, yeah. My grandmother is still alive, back in New Orleans scaring children with her animal bones and curses.” The softest of chuckles escaped Letha and after a moment she shook her head, “It’s too dark, I can’t tell if you do. So we’ll just have to be careful. You’ll let me know if you get tired, alright? You have to stay awake.” At the mention of her name she stood up, pushed herself off of her perch and offered her hand out to her again, “Let’s go find your father, Blaike.”

Would it have sounded strange of her to apologize, for the umpteenth time during this conversation? Probably. Staying silent seemed to be her best bet. How she did it, she had no clue. Her generally opinionated personality struggling to find the spark she’d usually felt, the frustrations she’d felt at hearing the girl’s parents had disappeared died almost instantly, Blaike simply not having the energy to keep it up any longer “Animal bones and curses? I’d name my daughter after her too. That’s badass.” She laughed a little, the force of it tearing at her chest as she gripped at it again. Her heartbeat and breathing becoming labored as she panicked for a moment. Why was it hurting? She didn’t remember being hit with anything, didn’t remember much to be honest. Nodding lightly, she took the other woman’s hand, signals from her brain taking longer than usual to make her hand respond, her grip hesitant and loose as she pulled herself up, a little unsteady on her feet as her head spun. “Do you always help out strangers like this?”

“Nobody at all.” It didn’t bother her. It was part of the conditioning, really, and most of Letha’s focus was on the girl anyway. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t anyone in the fair, in town hall, or in Red Creek that she had to really worry about – and yet she was making this her responsibility. Why? She couldn’t answer the question, merely shifted her hands to the girl’s cheeks and cupped either side of them. “I just want to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” Though the regression of memory was a sure sign of that at least. Damning the poor lighting Letha released her hold but kept close, leaning against the other’s perch but beside her. “Letha was my great grandmother’s name. And you … you’re a Knight, yes? Your father is the mayor.” Can’t remember her name … maybe she clocked her head harder than originally perceived. Either way … there was no way Letha was going to leave her alone, or to wander around attempting to help others. Something wasn’t right, between the blue of her lips and the loss of memory, the way her hands had clutched her stomach when Letha first stumbled upon her … 

Any other day, she might have been able to take the hing. Short sharp responses. Something the woman wasn’t all that bothered to talk about, but with everything going on, the growing panic that something had happened to her dad. Her sisters or brother, Blaike couldn’t help but be curious. “What happened to them?” Allowing Letha to maneuver her face, trying desperately to catch the light -- though they’d remain slightly more dilated than usual, despite whatever light she stood in. As hand were removed from her face, Blaike merely sat there, “Do I? -- Have a concussion I mean.” Her hands gripped at the perch she sat on, fingernails turned blue as she tapped them weakly against the surface. “She meant a lot to your mother then.” It broke though, the mention of her family name, the corners of her lips turning up a little as pieces became unhazed. “Blaike..-- Blaike Knight. Youngest of five. My dad... can we go look for him now?”