She didn’t show.
Amy sighed, pushing her feathers down with a stroke of her hand, letting her shoulders relax as the anticipation faded out of her. She’d actually dressed up for once, the cutoff jeans and midriff baring tank top she normally wore lying discarded on her bed. Her hand slid down the back of her head from her short red hair, actually combed for once, to her neck, running over the spot where her leather collar had rubbed a slight blister in years past, but her skin had healed over… And was an uninterrupted smooth spot of flesh now, her collar on the bed next to the rest of her normal clothes. The black dress she was wearing bared her neck and shoulders, and she’d figured it’d be a pity to break the effect with that collar. She flopped on the bed next to her clothes, bouncing slightly on the mattress, her eyes looking up at the ceiling as she laid back, cradling her head in her hands, barely avoiding hitting one of her elbows against the headboard. Another sigh, and Amy’s right hand twitched slightly, messing her hair into the unkempt, effortless crimson spikes it normally was.
She’d been stood up for “dates” before, but those times hadn’t felt quite like this. There’d never been a chance for something permanent before. Oh, sure, plenty of people had said they loved her and cared about her, but that was bedroom talk, sweet nothings… And she’d learned early on to completely ignore that and just enjoy how the sheets felt against her skin.
No one had ever mentioned something permanent offhand, in passing, as though it was a natural thing to say.
Amy reached up for her mother’s hand, her fingers wrapping around a few of her parent’s. They were limp, her mother’s hand barely twitching in reaction to her grip. “You’re sure nothing can be done about it,” her mother was asking a tall man in a white coat-Doctor was what she called him. Her hand was slick with sweat. The man held out a clipboard to her mother, and suddenly the fingers were sliding out of Amy’s, going to the clipboard. Doctor ruffled Amy’s hair, careful not to touch the downy feathers that were coming in or the small scabs were some had been roughly pulled out, something six year old Amy hadn’t recognized in his eyes as he bent down to give her a piece of candy and her mother looked over the board. Her mother’s other hand had stayed at her side. He stood again and glanced back at Amy’s mother, a completely different emotion showing up on his face before he quickly masked it. “They’ll keep coming back unless she has surgery, and she can’t have that without her fath-“
The look in Amy’s mother’s face when her head snapped up from the clipboard and at Doctor could have killed–Amy’s six year old heart started to beat faster, the tartness of the lemon sucker Doctor had given her not distracting her from dread.
Pity. She could place his first emotion now.
Her left hand flew out, punching into the bed, then reached for the collar, picking up the leather strip and putting it back around her neck, the buckle closing with a click.
Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath, her heart slowing. The top part of the dress she was wearing was tight, but not tight enough to restrict her breathing… And her skirt was knee length, left intentionally loose to let her legs move freely. The dress was one of her more successful projects…. Alluring but not restricting or impractical. It’d work.
She sat up, pulling herself to her feet and grabbing Unchained Fury, sliding both sleeves onto her arms. A few button presses and they tightened, the joints in the arms automatically lining up with her elbows, the forearm guards locking into place, using her wrists and shoulders as grasping points to prevent the weapon from sliding off.
***
Quina’s greatsword impacted her shield again, screeching as she deflected it, hopping backward after it was safely away. She was fast-her semblance was accelerating her every movement, making her colossal sword move nearly as quickly as a rapier would in a fencer’s hands, only with a lot more force. She was moving toward Amy again, only the fact that Amy was using Gift of the Wild at maximum power allowing her to see Quina’s movements in time to block her strikes.
Another strike before she had time to even think of launching her own offensive, the vibrations rattling through the shield setting her teeth on edge. Some semblances just weren’t fair. Amy plainly wasn’t going to beat her on defense, so-another clang and Amy’s shield retracted, her spear swatting the next strike out of the way, it was weak and hurried-maybe she could beat Quina with reach. Another jump–not too far, ground was at a premium–
“Too afraid to get up close?” Quina asked, smiling slightly. “That’s funny, considering your history.”
Amy shook her head, her own smirk spreading across her face as her spear lanced out, aiming for the other woman’s chest- And she knocked it away, Amy immediately pulling her weapon back to serve on the defensive as she leapt over one of Quina’s strikes, aiming at her legs. “Come on, Quina, that’s just a cheap shot.” Quina struck again, her blade aiming for Amy’s neck–and Amy blocked it, the force of the sword making it lock with Amy’s spear, Quina leaning forward to put more force behind it, her face drawing close with Amy’s–
“By the way, your dad says hi,” Amy said, her smirk growing wider. Quina exhaled, her face going into an exaggerated “ouch”.
“And you called what I said a cheap shot, Ms. Never Had a Dad.”
Amy felt a hot flush start in her ears, but she ignored it and made her own stab, Quina’s speed more than equal to knocking her spear far to the side, leaving Amy open for Quina to follow through with a devastating blow to her side, burning away a large chunk of Amy’s aura. Amy winced and let back again, Quina’s last statement mixing with the pain in her side, amplified by the increased sensitivity caused by Amy’s semblance… But she couldn’t shut it off and even have a hope of winning. “I’ve actually been thinking of trying to find him,” she ventured, trying to delay a little, let her pain subside some…
“You might as well not try, Amy. If he left you earlier, he’s not going to want you to find him now.”
She was only trying to prevent hurt, and some deep part of Amy knew that… But for an instant the taller woman’s features morphed into those of Amy’s mother, Quina’s blonde hair perfectly matching the shade of Winona Desree, her slight smirk becoming the grimace of an older woman looking down on her daughter, saying… He doesn’t care about you…
The flush in her ears spread to her head, clouding her judgment– and Fury collapsed into a chain, Amy using the launcher to snap it out toward Quina’s blade–launching the chain at her friend’s face with the machinery’s power behind it ran the risk of hurting her but that sneer that sneer she didn’t care she just didn’t care– and the Fury ripped the blade from Quina’s hand, dropping it and immediately retracting into a spear as Quina, knocked off balance, fell, and Amy jumped, spear bound for her mother’s face– Slamming down into it, wiping that sneer off her face becoming Quina’s again Amy crying leaving the academy best friend gone–
The illusion cracked, Amy diverting the spear into the ground next to Quina’s head at the last second, collapsing to her knees next to the Fury.
“I’m so sorry… Oh God, I’m so sorry…”
