#perfidiam

Why would you ruin perfectly good pizza with pineapple? It’s wet and squishy and doesn’t work with pepperonis!

Medb shrugged.

“Uuh!” It had been a while since the Servant had that feeling of excitement within her. Not only was she able to be in contact with Mordred, but the two were going to attend the Halloween party everyone seem excited for. She would have been at a loss if she were to go alone, but now it seem that this place gave her a reason to go on ahead. Humans say that this holiday was a time for tricks and treats. A time to scare others and party with friends. Fran may have no idea what would be consider scary, but she was going to do her best to try and participate.

Looking at the costumes, Fran look around to try and find something that would fit the theme. She found a nice outfit, something that look comfortable and decent. Before pulling that out, Fran walk back from where they enter to pick up a small carton of fake blood before going back to the costumes and picking a nice, maid outfit. 

“W-well, yeah, I feel like that’s the idea? You can’t just break ‘em apart with your hands. Or at least, you shouldn’t...”

Makoto’s hovering just a little too closely to the other girl. She’s not the best chef in the world, but she’s made enough meals at the Academy to know how to cut veggies.

“Wait, wait, not that knife. No, use the paring knife, you don’t need the big one for these. I know it’s bigger, that doesn’t mean it’s better! Cooking doesn’t work like that! No, just- is that a sword!?”

A girl like Mordred thrives on conflict. Not necessarily fighting, but any clash of wills will do; the sparks that fly are proof of one’s existence, lighting a flame that screams “Here I am, just try to ignore me!” Every time they’ve met, it’s been something: they fought over food, they fought over coffee, and now they’re fighting over the last cake at the bakery. Even Makoto’s prodigious patience is beginning to wear thin, but maybe that’s just what Mordred wants. Maybe she wants a brawl, and Makoto is sorely tempted to provide.

“First, I’m gonna explain it to you one more time,” says Makoto, looking down at Mordred. Her teeth are bared, exposing the pointed fangs that mark her bestial heritage and indicate the mounting tension. “A line exists for a reason. You  come in at the end of it, and wait your turn. It’s simple, even a child could understand it.”

Mordred grins in response. “What if I don’t wanna wait? You gonna stop me? I’ve got places to be, you know. A Servant like me doesn’t have to wait for anything if I don’t want to.”

“You’re gonna wait because everyone else is waiting.”

“I’m not doing shit, squirrel.”

The cashier isn’t impressed. “Uh, ma’ams? There’s a line behind you guys, if you have an order then-”

“The strawberry cake!” shout the two in unison, slamming their hands on the counter.

“Well, you know there’s only one piece left, but I could cut it in half if-”

“No!”

The cashier sighs. “Can you at least step out of line? There’s other customers waiting.”

“No need,” says Makoto, hand reaching to her side. “I’m about to end this.”

“Oh? You’re finally about to do something besides stand around gabbing?” There’s a dangerous sparkle in Mordred’s eye as she leans in even further, pressing her chest against Makoto’s. “I saw that strength of yours in the kitchen, but you haven't seen mine. If you think you can fuck with me again, I’m gonna show you just how wrong you are.”

As Makoto moves her arm again, Mordred’s hand shoots out, grabbing and pinning it to the counter. Even the Cashier steps back as Makoto grunts in surprise. “What’s your problem?” she spits. “Get the hell off me!”

As Mordred leans in, Makoto does the same, and their foreheads press together as each refuses to give the other an inch. “Make me,” she says, hot breath spilling over the others’ mouth.

Makoto bare her fangs as her gaze narrows, a beast eyeing its prey. “You’ll regret this.”

“Oh yeah? What the hell can you do to me?” Mordred begins to laugh, something triumphant and slightly twisted, right as Makoto brings her phone up to her ear. The smile that lights up Makoto’s face makes Mordred stop. She can’t possibly imagine what she has up her sleeve that would turn the tide so easily, let alone how it could be on her phone.

The next words out of Makoto’s mouth make her stomach twist.

“I’m calling your dad.”

She releases her grip, eyes wide. “What the fuck did you just-”

Makoto hops back, eyes on Mordred even as she dials the call. “It’s ringing,” she says. And it’s all she needs to say.

Mordred charges forward as Makoto dashes backwards out of the bakery. “Don’t fuck with me, squirrel!” she roars, fists clenched so tightly her nails dig into her palms.

Although Makoto’s eyes follow Mordred, she manages to stay just out of reach, even avoiding other people on the sidewalk. “Hello, Arthuria? Really sorry to bother you out of the blue like this. It’s Makoto, remember we met at that tea house? Well, I was just in line at one of the bakeries in Golden, and you’ll never guess who I ran into-”

“ARTHURRRRRRRRR!”

Eyes snap open in the darkness, her mind a mire of emotions as she thinks through the memories she’s just seen. Not her own, certainly, and although she’s no stranger to walking through others’ memories (thanks Haedalyn), it still doesn’t feel right to get a glimpse into someone’s most intimate moments.

And yet, she feels the emotions, still raw from her dreams. Of yearning for acceptance, of the hurt that came from being brushed aside. Suddenly, it’s like she understands the bravado that the other wears so easily, and the simple desire to be accepted that lies beneath it.