Not even gods

The girl weaved in and out of stories like they were water. It reminded him, distantly, of the women who would come see him before a match. You have to let him win, they’d say, and they’d always have a threat laced beneath their words: their brother was dangerous, their boyfriend owed a debt, their cousin just wanted to win. And when he said no, they’d snap –

– start walking fingers up his arm, giggle and ask him about his Selections. What are you all shy for? Let’s go get dinner.

Weird comparison, but a strong one. It made him suck in a breath, kept him from answer for the longest moment. The look on the girl’s face was pitiful, but there was a monster behind her gaze. Say no, and she’d probably go back to boxing him. Say no, and nothing stopped her from yelling at him.

So. Didn’t have much of a choice, did he.

‘I got it,’ he said finally, tone flat but not dismissive. ‘You had me at monster.’

And what he wouldn’t give for some Sea Monster right about now.

　　　　　‘– hope you like wraps, kid.’

It was a quiet little joint. Kind of quaint, really more of Nahlum’s pace. She didn’t like the busy streets of the big city, it just didn’t suit her. There was too much going on at once, and she liked to set the pace, not have to keep up with it.

Despite her loud, energetic and bustling personality... she was still raised a village girl in the quiet location of the middle of nowhere.

Her teeth sank into flatbread, meat and lettuce, gnawing and chewing and gnashing at it with little regard for the bits that fell on the plate or on the table or on the floor. In little under thirty seconds, she had already devoured the first one, and looked pleadingly at the strange man, expecting more while she picked up the pieces that had fallen on the table and not so discretely scooped them into her mouth.

“You sure are a lot nicer than the usual guys I talk to, mister,” her tone sounded genuine, but the grin she was wearing almost made it seem like she was conning him...

It was also a good way to think things through, mulling over solutions and such as he jumped from branch to branch. Unfortunately that meant he let himself get distracted at times, relying on his instincts to keep him safe. Usually that worked. Usually there was no one else in the trees. Usually.

After running into the girl, he fell, just barely hanging onto the branch he had meant to land upon. Quickly he pulled himself up and offered his hand to her, knowing she couldn’t stay like that forever. Hopefully this branch would support the two of them, at least for a little while. 

“I am sorry…?” He offered awkwardly.

When she slipped and let out a yelp, she finally decided it was better to just accept the hand. It wasn’t like she was just giving up... it just wasn’t important enough to fall and maybe break something.

If this was a cactus tree she would have made it up, she decided. These weird trees with their... green stuff and their flaky bark, they just weren’t as suitable to climbing.

That was it.

She grabbed a hold of his hand, digging her fingers once more into the bark as she kicked off the tree with one foot back towards the branch. Their combined weight was heavier than expected, and when both were back on the tree, it moaned and creaked under the pressure, and sloped downwards as if it would snap in two.

“What’d’ya mean ‘not used to seeing others in the trees’, people know how to climb a tree, don’t they?! How else are you supposed to gather fruit or-”

Oh. Right. She wasn’t home anymore. 

She scratched her cheek, looking away and grumbling. Then she turned back, sizing the guy up.

He wasn’t wearing the usual attire of those citizens... well, if they had a usual attire, this wasn’t it. Thick animal furs... they looked really stuffy, there’s no way he’d last long in the desert.

“So, like, what are you?

The challenge. It snaked through him the same way her presence did, a satellite in his world as soon as she touched his arm. It was a slow-burning thing, just enough to get him to stop and turn his head, disengage from the path and the crowd forming it to regard the girl at his side.

You don’t look so tough, she said, and he met her arrogance with muted scepticism. Wasn’t called for, but her face alone said she believed it.

Not even the guys in Cloudbank picked fights like this.

‘Yeah?’ he began, in the same way he might usually say hi, caught between doubt and politeness. He didn’t shift to look at her, not even when meeting her gaze reminded him of the crick in his neck. Some people would use any excuse to go on the offensive. ‘… okay.’

The chatter of the crowd, the honking horns and yelling, it was almost enough to drown out his voice. He rubbed at the back of his neck, watched her.

If he noticed her scars, he said nothing.

‘I’m not… gonna fight you, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

Nahlum stomped her foot and growled in frustration.

“What, are you scared?! Afraid to fight a little girl? Afraid I’ll break a rib or two? Huh? I bet that’s it, huh? Huh? Huh?!”

She ducked behind him and popped up on his other side, tapping his other arm and began shadow boxing. Her stance was unusual, and the way her arms twisted and hands weaved in and out wasn’t like that of any orthodox technique. It was obvious she had some skill, but could she really do any damage like that...?

“I’ve taken out guys waaay bigger than you. Ten feet. No, twelve. Actually, I think the biggest was... thirteen? He was made of sand so it’s kind of hard to remember. Also, y’know, the whole trying to kill me part made it hard to ask for measurements. I bet you haven’t killed anyone. Huh, Mr. Bandage Hands, huh?”

She could have easily went on, but that’s when her stomach decided to intervene again, and remind her of how long it had been since she last had eaten...

She groaned and lost a little speed in her step, falling back a bit, but not letting her voice waver.

“I’m so hungry... you can feed me, right, mister...? I haven’t eaten in three days...

“If you let a little girl die on the streets they’ll never forgive you. I’ll curse you with my dying breath. Everyone will know what a monster Mr. Bandage Hands is. They’ll show up with rocks and break your windows every night...”

Who was it that woke in tears, startled, breathing as if they’d run a marathon? Whose body shook and heaved with pain of death for nearly an hour before clawing its way out of bed? Was it Shannon who collapsed, crying, on the floor of the shower? Was it Kanon who couldn’t find the strength even to eat a scrap of toast, a bite of cereal? 

When was the last time Beatrice had felt so lost?

It had hurt. Of course it had hurt. But it hadn’t all hurt, and that, they thought, was worst of all–holding hands, kissing, dancing, sharing their warmth, sharing their sweetness–all of it gone. You always knew it would be gone, someday. Of course they couldn’t really love someone like you. Of course–

That dark head shook, back and forth, back and forth, as if the pain could clear itself out. As if. 

There were other things, too; a head that had been golden, instead of dark (she fitted the wig carefully, no small scraps of hair peeking out anywhere). A name, right? Not your name, although it could be yours, now, if you wanted it. And her face… that hadn’t quite belonged to Beatrice, either. (Tracing pink circles around blue eyes, glancing absently at the stranger in the glass.) Look, look: if you smile and float away, and ignore the holes gaping luridly at your temples, you can still be pretty.

So: when she left the apartment, she was pretty.

All blonde hair and meticulous suit, as if it could hide the way you flinch when the light hits your eyes. 

When she woke again on the sidewalk outside of a bus (a bus she had been riding, a bus she had stepped off, or started to, at least), she wasn’t quite so pretty. Her blonde hair was mussed; there was the start of a bruise on her cheek, and another on her shoulder, where she had fallen. 

Fainted. How long has it been since you fainted?

Good morning, Golden Witch.

She blinked, blinked, sat up. Squinted at her would-be savior. “Thank you,” she said, and it came out slurred, which seemed to her the most frustrating thing about the entire episode. “You were waiting. Right? For how long? I’m sure I’ve made you late, for… wherever it is that you…”

“Not like I’d ever faint but you know, it’s whatever!” She lied through her teeth. “There’s no embarrassment in falling down every once in a while. Just gotta get up again, y’know!”

It was a really pretty dress.

She reminded Nahlum of nobility. They always wore beautiful dresses... but mostly to cover up their ugly faces and personalities. Witches with hideous scowls and upturned noses, that’s what they were. 

But they did have full wallets that were easy to misplace.

“I really didn’t have anything better to do. Seriously, I’m totally lost. If you were gonna die here on the sidewalk I wouldn’t even be able to help, I don’t know where a hospital is.” Nahlum scratched her face. “But you woke up pretty quick, so I guess you’re gonna live to see another day. And we can get you home, a nice meal and a good rest will probably perk you up!”

(Please remember to use trigger warnings as and when necessary)

Do you think that you’re a good person?

Do others like you? Do you want others to like you?

What do you think others like or admire about you?

How do you know when you’re in love? (romantic or platonic)

Would you or have you ever killed? What would drive you to kill? 

Do you think that killing is ever justified?

Have you ever done anything that you feel to be very morally wrong?

Should all people be treated as equal, and have the same rights?

If you committed a crime, would you accept punishment willingly?

Is suicide ever the right choice?

Is euthanasia ever the right choice?

Is it right to have an intimate relationship with somebody you don’t love?

What could make you break your own moral code? 

Have you ever doubted your own beliefs? (Spiritual, philosophical)

Would you always be loyal to your loved ones even if they wronged you?

What would you consider a fate worse than death?

Why do you love the person or people you love? (romantic or platonic)

Do you agree with capital punishment?

Could you ever forgive your worst enemy?