It could not be healthy keeping four idiots like these this close to her heart at all times.
Nicole Polendina, honors student and mission operator for the Golden Stripes chivalric order lusted after by every student of Atlas Academy, wouldn't have traded her transcript and honors for the world - but chief among the burdens that came with her charmed collegiate life were the constant interviews, psych evaluations, and transcript censorships that had become necessities in the lives of her charges. There were some nights, like tonight, that her position of authority over them meant that it was likely she would be forgoing sleep and devoting all her time to paperwork before she officially began summer break, which wasn't bad in of itself. The fly in the ointment came from being self-sacrificial enough that even though her four specialists - Heinrich Gault, Solomon Speer, Noah Bright, and even her erstwhile knight, Jericho, halfway across the world - had all seen fit to scatter to the four winds without her to begin their two months off, she was still stuck here, forced to be content with having all the final paperwork they'd neglected unceremoniously dumped on him.
Not that she was some weak damsel, mind. She'd taken her own revenge where she could. Every instance of 'king' in Heinrich's psych evaluation had, for instance, been replaced with the far more ignominious title of 'stooge' in his official record for the spring semester, and Bright's official role on the team had gone from his scribbled 'I drive' to 'Speer polisher,' edited in an elegant hand over an occupation field that had been painted over with a healthy layer of correction fluid. It was the little things that kept her going.
For a while.
The characters had long since begun blurring together on the pages for her, defiled here and there by the bloody swathes of red ink she had cut over materials that wouldn't be fit for a normal school record. Her chuckles at her little private jokes had long since died into faint snorts of breath that were more suited for just keeping her awake than they were to express amusement at herself. She wanted to sleep; the team's well-worn leather couch was right there, and there were four free beds scattered throughout Team HJNS' condo for her to take. She could be done with all this in the morning, and maybe even still manage to catch a flight home in time for--
BZZZZTNicole blinked groggily at the sound of the door alarm, before it pierced her haze again.
BZZZZTBright was the only member of HJNS who hadn't left the city yet. No doubt he'd forgotten some troll doll that belonged in the rear window of his car and refused to leave without it. The members of the team were always coming back for crap like that; each was sentimental in his own way, slave to subtle trinkets that tugged at their heartstrings. Nicole sighed and stood up from her barstool, preparing to go helping Bright on some scavenger hunt that would only result in--
The sound of a key fitting into the lock and twisting rang out with a sharp
click! The door swung open.
"--Jer...?"The Atlesian soldier turned to face her, and she stared into his golden eyes in search of the qualities she knew others gave up on; cutting past the cold calculation in search of the warmth, the surprise, the inquisitive, often disarming easygoing nature that only those close to him got to see. Heinrich had once described his face as a pharoah's death mask, bronzed, sculpted and still; even if his face was eternally impassive, though, Jericho had two sets of eyes, and she loved the pair that he shone on her.
"Jer!" She rushed forward to hug him.
"Nicole. Hey." Still impassive, but he had his warm pair of eyes. She was effortlessly scooped up off the ground even without the help of his gloved arm, giving her a hug that would have seemed perfunctory to most who didn't know how rare the Young Devil of Atlas' hugs actually were. He held her by the small of her back and under the seat of her pants for five seconds flat before letting her down on the ground and crossing over to the team fridge, on the other end of the bar.
"What the hell's keeping you soul trapped to this place? Shouldn't you be halfway home by now?"Nicole perched on her barstool, watching him - not creepy! - instead of giving him a prompt reply. Whether absence made the heart grow fonder or not had varying mileage depending on the lovelorn individual, but to Nicole, Jericho somehow seemed even more...beautiful than he had when he left, even if nothing had really changed. He didn't appear to have any new scars, and though his hair
had grown a little during his yearlong sojourn in Vale, it was still recognizably his - rich and copper and begging to have fingers run through it, from bangs down to the luminescent strip of scarlet that hung down to his right shoulder blade. He was even still wearing his Gold Stripes jacket, albeit with a Beacon patch sewn lovingly in a position of esteem below the Atlesian military insignia, a "-40x2," and the two Gold Stripes decorated with his marksmanship qualifications. If it weren't for little touches like that, and the giant hole in her heart rapidly swelling closed again, she may have believed he had only gone away for a weekend to stand guard onboard
Sleipnir.Jericho seemed unaware of her Capulet moment; he reached into the back of the fridge and plucked out two remaining half-and-half beer bottles with a look of savage triumph.
"Aha," he crowed softly, balancing them between his fingers.
"Want one?""No thanks, Jer. I need to stay sharp if I'm gonna keep this paperwork from nipping at your heels."Nicole gestured towards the four manila folders spread out throughout the bar. Jericho's brow furrowed in distaste at the sight of them, and he walked over to sit opposite across from her at the bar. She noticed that she had occupied his usual seat between counter and bar - a border zone that Heinrich had christened 'Wench's Walk' on move-in day last year - but he didn't seem to mind, instead occupying one of the opposing gold-leather barstools and flipping through a folder.
"Solomon Speer, Psych Evaluation," Jer read, flipping the folder closed after reading through another two or three lines with a roll of his eyes. He set both cold beers down atop the folder, raising the volume on his grumbled
"Jeeee-sus Christ" to be heard over Nicole's squeal of protest.
"Give yourself a break already, boss. It's summertime. Don't be the last casualty of the school year."Nicole's knees went weak behind the counter as he reached over with a gloved index finger and, with the tip of the digit hooked underneath the bottle cap, flicked the little metal scrap right into her freckled button nose. Jer opened up his own beer and took a long drink, setting it back down perfectly after a second into the slight wet ring he'd left on Sully's folder.
"So where is everyone?" he asked her.
"I was looking around the lobby. People cleared out fast around here.""Rich and Cecilia are on holiday with their parents up in Mantle, and Sully went with Nia and your sisters for their tour this summer," Nicole answered, kicking at the bar and trying a sip of the beer. Nia Niers and Babylon Piper were a pair of pop paragons in the making, and wanted to see all the world and ply their trade in every venue that would take a pair of cute, charismatic friends with an ear for harmonies. Rebekah Piper had gone along to ply
her trade as Babylon's silent shadow, and Solomon Speer, ever the opportunist, had gone along at Babylon's invitation to ply
his trade of pretending to be gay long enough to worm his way into a girl's inner sanctum.
"Bright's still in town. He just left a few hours ago, he's got a flight in around..." She checked her Scroll: 12:02 AM.
"Two hours from now."Jer was looking at her passively, nursing his beer with pursed lips. It was clear he'd wanted to come home to at least one night's worth of revelry with his team, Nicole noted, but then he shook his head slightly and set his beer down. The yellowing wet patch at the bottom of Speer's file was starting to blossom outwards like a damp sunflower.
God, that's gonna be so messy...Then again, a moist patch down south was Speer's calling card...
Nicole's eyes widened in shock at her own mental innuendo.
He'd better not go near Babs with that kind of slick crap...Then again, that wasn't very likely. Speer had befriended Babylon long before Jericho had warmed up to him, and it was thanks to the idol that they had taken steps to forge the brotherhood they shared today, despite Jericho's chameleon-like ability to fit into any team dynamic and Speer's easygoing charm. In return for saving the team dynamic, the one-time Bastion honors student had become a sort of hallowed ground for Solomon, the one girl that the meme-savvy Don Juan of the Golden Stripe refused to go down on. Even Heinrich, who shared a closer relationship to both Piper twins that sometimes gave even Nicole sleepless nights, seemed to treat Babylon as closer to a patron saint than a potential lover. No one would go near her - even without the threat of Jer.
Too bad it felt like most of the time, the same principle applies here...She knew that it was rather selfish of her to feel that way, especially in this instance; with a guy like this, someone as guarded and capable and cold as Jericho, wasn't being loved like a sister enough?
If it meant keeping him here for good, would I settle?Nicole Polendina liked to think she would.
Jericho had finished his beer and tossed the empty bottle into the recycle bin by its glass neck, and was now reaching for Nicole's hardly-touched beverage. He made a small show of closing one eye and peering into the murky amber depths of the half-and-half before brushing any of Nicole's cooties back in her direction and taking a long drink. She smiled despite her inner self-deprecation.
"While you're here, I wanted to talk to you about something in your--""No."Even though he was still mostly unguarded by Jericho standards, the response was still brusque, almost curt. The Gold Stripe reached out with his hand and scooped up the remaining three folders, brushing them all onto his side of the bar and pushing them outside the reach of both students. He aimed the bottle's neck at her face, as if to pour it at her.
"It's summer now," he said to her, voice raspy from beer in a way that made her spine lock up.
"You're not my boss, boss."Take me now."You know, you like to get on the others about being insolent, but when it comes to red tape you're just as difficult as Speer or Bright--""I've complied with three times the information requests of any Gold Stripe since Graduation Day," Jericho replied bitterly.
"I can only imagine what kind of vetting I was put through when you tried to separate me from HJNS the last time. The whole reason I went to Vale was so that I could feel like myself in the field again.""And do you?" Nicole pressed.
"Feel like yourself?"Jericho Piper gave her a long, searching look. His eyes were neither hot nor cold, a lukewarm goldenrod as opaque as prison walls.
"Nothing controls me," Jericho stated assertively,
"unless I let it. Boss."The beer lent a certain emphasis to the back half of that rebuttal that made Nicole's mouth tighten.
d a m p s u n f l o w e rIt was clear Jericho was done with the conversation; he finished off the second beer and sent it spiraling after the first bottle into the recycle bin, and this time he turned away from the bar entirely, towards the living center of the Gold Stripes condo. It was another page right out of his defensive playbook; a casual dismissal of an argument as beneath his notice or outside the realms of his narrow, objective-based worldview, which he retreated into as a safe space where he didn't have to confront his own humanity or vulnerabilities. After all, a weapon would perform at its apex potential for as long as it was carefully and properly maintained and cared for.
And whether he liked it or not, Jericho Piper was going to be thoroughly cared for. She had seen him in a place so low no human could possibly understand it, and they had done all they could to bring it back. She needed to know if it had worked.
So that, if necessary, she could execute the very first guideline in the Piper playbook - finish the goddamn job.
Jericho was messing with the remote on the TV, flicking through channel and video settings before the team's gaming console booted up, the silvers and greys of various option menus appearing before Jericho's eyes. Nicole stalked up to him and put her hand on one of his slim shoulders, spinning Jer around to glare up at him. On most, it probably wouldn't have been intimidating - Jer had a solid half foot on her, give or take, and a freckled redhead with bright green eyes was something that made guys like Speer moan wistfully on imageboards instead of wince in intimidation, but Jericho's eyebrows rose up in an arc of faint surprise.
"I control you," she said, with all the force she could muster channeled into her voice and glare.
"You swore an oath to Atlas, right? For God and the Kingdom. You promised General Ironwood, you promised your father, and you promised Heinrich that you would be a weapon in our hands. In the hands of Atlas. You promised that you would never fail us, and you never have.""Nicole, I--""You never have," she repeated angrily. Something was roaring up inside her chest, a bonfire of white-hot emotion repressed for nearly a year.
"Because I am in your eyes and ears at all times, Jericho Goddamn Piper, and when I tell you to do something I've seen you literally divert course to do it to the best of your ability. For no other reason than because you swore. Right? For God and the kingdom.""...For God and the kingdom," he repeated, bemused. One eyebrow had continued to arch as he looked down on Nicole, head cocked. Jer looked almost dumbstruck.
"So as far as you're concerned, I am Atlas, soldier. So when I, as Atlas, make you do three times the paperwork of any other Gold Stripe, it is because you mean three times more to me than any other Gold Stripe. And when I tell you that you have orders not to be a sad sack of crap and shut me out, I mean it, because you are the most important person in my life, and I remember the only other time in my life that you ever shut me out. I never want to feel that kind of helplesness again, you...you...you grouchy, detached, disassociative bastard."Jericho blinked slowly. Then his mouth twitched, eyebrows arced, and he was blinking again in shock. Nicole realized that her fists were balled up, even shaking.
"Do we have a copy?""Copy, Atlas." He was looking at her funny, with warm golden eyes like wet sunflowers. His voice was as sardonic as it was quiet, turned husky by the pair of cheap beers he'd knocked back to avoid her.
Do it. Do it now."A solid copy?" she asked. His hair was so...
"Solid copy, Atlas." Was he toying with her?
So...
Bright. Red, beautiful, and bright...
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINGNicole screamed at the noise, pumped through every appliance in the house with a speaker and extrapolated upon by a bland rounded rectangle on the top right corner of the screen:
Incoming from: Noah BrightNicole screamed again.
Jericho didn't look any more pleased. He turned towards the TV and used the motion capture camera atop the appliance to flick the notification away without reading it. This time he didn't turn back towards her. Any moment that had been brewing - Nicole
knew a moment had been brewing - had been beaten to death. Beaten to death. Just like Noah Bright would be once the Kingdom of Atlas got its hands on him...
"So," she started. Her voice must have sounded at least half as crystalline and defeated as her heart felt.
"What were you about to do?""Hm? Oh. I was just booting up Dance 'Til Sunrise," Jer explained, waving away at the menu wearily to boot up the game. Despite her sudden downturn in mood Nicole's eyebrow raised in its best impersonation of the Young Devil.
"You play Dance 'Til Sunrise?""It's hard to be a bad dancer when you share a womb with Babylon Piper." Jer stepped in front of the camera and looked towards Nicole with a challenging twitch of his glowing hair rune.
"Two player? We can play on normal.""I've been playing Dance 'Til Sunrise since I was seven," Nicole shot back.
"Mansplainer.""Wew. I was only offering. By seven, huh? Babs and I could do all of Thriller by seven. But I'm sure you were kicking ass too."Nicole rolled her eyes, scrunching up her face and slugging him in the arm as she walked up to the motion capture camera; the device recognized her after a minute and pulled up her long-disused profile data from the console's live service. Song selection would begin momentarily, and then maybe she'd at least have a chance to channel some Dirty Danci--
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINGIS HE IN THE FUCKING CAMERA!?Incoming from: Noah BrightJer sighed in impatience.
"Display message on screen."Fwd frm RRRG: Sth Mistral 5'11 Jade Sharp Teeth SHARP CHEESE autist says more vamps AAAAAAAAARGH
GG KIA? ConfirmNicole's brow furrowed, looking over to Jer.
Jer.
Jericho was standing as though he'd been petrified.
"What's he talking about?" Nicole asked Jericho quizzically.
"More vamps...vampires? Giada? But we--"Jericho sat down on the couch, Judgment cupping his mouth. His eyes were alight in anger. Nicole hadn't seen him this upset since, well...Giada herself. The artificial vampire was a bastard in every sense, an unwanted daughter of a wealthy Mistralian family turned STEM intern turned hybrid of the latest in medical technology and a smattering of old pre-Great War occult rituals. It was the kind of weird mishmash of influences that only took place in bizarre science fiction...which made her perfect for Atlas, a land of bizarre science fiction with a history of the occult. Giada Fiordilatte had been picked up shortly after the Graduation Day incident with Jericho, one of his first jobs since returning to active duty, and after the plucky vampire's escape from the military facility she was housed at, her recapture was one of the ways Jericho had sought to prove he was still every inch the capable agent he had been at Bastion Academy. After one successful lead trailed another, Jer had come back to Atlas shortly before his departure for Vale saying that he'd gotten her trying to escape from Mantle to Mistral.
So if Giada Fiordilatte was alive, it meant that she had frozen over Hell during her latest escape to celebrate a
failed Jericho Piper assassination...or it meant the assassination had never taken place.
Her eyes fell on Jericho, already on the phone.
"Dad, it's me. How much money and material is left in our stipends--no, I don't have time to--it's a lead. Yes, for school--yes, Atlas, our school. Fine, we don't need to withdraw for Speer and Rich, just...yeah, Bright's in town. Yeah, if you could scramble an airship that would be--22? 29. How the hell does Bright only have seven thousand left in--"A beat.
"What in the goddamn...no, there's no Shenron statue here. Yeah, I think I would recognize it, I've spent two months sleeping on a couch with April Schwarz, didn't I? 29. Okay. And the albinium stipends, too. Yeah, it's important. Yeah. And Dad -- I...thank you. Yeah, I'm bringing Nicole, we'll have a full report. If it pans out, yes. Yeah, Dad. It's a goddamn Freak. Alright, Dad. Thank you. Fare thee well."Nicole waited until the connection was definitely dead before starting her sentence cautiously:
"If Giada's alive...""You don't have to say it," Jer grumbled. There was quiet for a second before Nicole, for reasons even she wasn't certain of, decided to try and brighten her white knight's mood.
"Well, I don't blame you." The cheerful absolution came with a wistful smile towards the message.
"I always liked GiGi.""I can't believe you nicknamed her," the Young Devil grumbled, to which his mission operator rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, well, I can't believe you let her live."******************************************************************************
LUKE SCHWARZ
Crystal Castles, Mistral.
If you put any store into the midnight howls of Lauren Negasi (easily heard from three dorms away and no doubt screeched from atop a deadpan, insensate Ben who was trying his hardest to go dead inside) it was
Vacuo that once boasted all of the world's natural beauty, a lush, verdant land of clear skies and endless lakes, an oasis on par with the mythical Avalon. Of course, like most things, Lauren's stories of ancestral Vacuo ended with the caveat "...before the white people came," so any beauty the continent may have had was unfortunately sullied by the same race that, in her eyes, had unfairly sullied the good names of Vine, hip hop, and OJ Simpson.
Lauren was as good a big sister surrogate as anyone ever had - and, with the meteoric rise of April and Dawn in her esteem, she may even safely qualify for the real thing - but it's hard to take someone at their level when they spend the rest of their time gleefully reminding you what a skilled and inventive liar they were.
So, at the risk of provoking an argument with my only sister thus far to successfully talk me into electrocuing myself for the sake of money...
Crystal Castles, Mistral had to be the most beautiful little town I'd ever seen in my life. Most of my friends would insist that my little mountain hometown of Shiroyama gave this Zephyr-outlier of a hamlet stiff competition, but as a mountain man of sorts myself, I could never look at home with the same objective eye that someone like Lauren, Bianca, or Jericho could. Growing up and spending your life in a certain place can often numb you to some of its natural beauty as easily as its faults, which is perhaps why I never got the big fuss over Shiroyama that most of my friends made. It's also why Gratia didn't mind the swamps, and why you couldn't say more than five words about Atlas before Jer was brushing your teeth with a laser sight.
And come to think of it, that might be the same reason my host family keeps insisting this place is no big deal...
It was for that very host family that I was running this particular errand on the seasonably warm evening of June 19th. The Pressman family had never had much in the way of money; it was a point of contention with their only child, a daughter who had been thrust into a team with a bunch of super-rich aristocrat's daughters and weaponized her cunning and barbed wit to compensate. But despite being qualifying as lower-middle class to those feeling particularly charitable, it seemed like my hosts had pulled out all the stops for me. I had a whole bed to sleep on, the same as I would sleep on any other, instead of the sofa that Jer Piper would crash on whenever he laid over in Shiroyama or the Mistralian swamps where the Mindaros hosted him for spring break.
Not that I'm spoiled or anything, because any couch was more than good enough for me, especially given the four or five inches that Jericho had on me. But Julia Pressman, the occult-loving, pants-spurning matriarch of the family who I happen to believe was the primary architect for my summer in Mistral, had refused to hear a word of it. More to the point, she had somehow scrounged together the money to not only keep the whole apartment well fed, but keep plying me with junk food throughout the fortnight I'd spent here.
It had taken Veronique bluntly informing me of her mother's gameplan to truly gasp the insidiousness of it. You see, Crystal Castles is a small town, mostly meant for being driven through on your way into the larger city of Zephyr, home to such famous names as Nuit and Venetia - the real attractions of Mistral, to most tourists at least. As a drive-through town, most of the food similarly caters to drive-thru customers, with the exception of the town's lone pizza delivery business and a Vacuan restaurant specializing in hibachi-style and traditional kaiseki dining, named the Plum Gardens and featuring an eye-rollingly similar kanji to that of "Umeko," which was no doubt meant to cater to Vytal Festival nerds such as April.
Although I certainly hoped that April never had the urge to dine on Umeko...
That sort of hopeless celebrity crushing is for Speer, not for one of my blockhead Griese-stanning sisters. And I had long since learned not to bring up Sensei's famous friend around her.
Anyway, apart from those, the cuisine of Crystal Castles is dominated by four burger chains, trapped in an eternal gridlock for dominance. On the south side of town by the rec center was the drive-in-only Beef Stack, which served the best fries in Mistral but required at least two patties per burger in order to feel like you were consuming any meat at all. Then there was Wolfman Blake's Burgers and Shakes, more of a hybrid between fast food and a traditional restaurant, obviously named for its hand-crafted burgers and thick milkshakes but suffering from a price premium to go along with the premium quality of its dinner trays. And then you had the two eternal rivals - Wendy's, the favorite among young people my age for its savvy social media presence (ironically enough run by a shitposting cousin of Veronique's, from a bastard offshoot of the Pressman family a generation or two above from Julia-san) and Big Tohunga Burger right across the street, standing resolute against the smirk of the redheaded Pressman on the Wendy's sign.
Now, back to the matter of Julia Pressman's nefarious plan - it seemed that my mother's sweater-bedecked soul sister had gotten it into her head that the more empty calories from fast food I consumed on her time and dime, the more I would be forced to exercise in various compromising fanservice positions in order to compensate. Were I only a few inches taller, a few shades meaner, and had a different kind of Mindaro-infuriating hairstyle, the odds of her settling in for a summer full of self-perpetuating eye candy may have been ever in her favor. Unfortunately, she failed to consider that Crystal Castles, with its close proximity to Zephyr, was built on some of the cool north-western hills of the continent of Animus, meaning that the trek to and from the Big Four burger chains alone was more than sufficient to keep fit. Taking a bicycle, which I had decided to forgo tonight in order to relax and enjoy the cool evening, would have been even heartier exercise. I don't pretend to be a grand planner on the level of a Gold Stripe or Grand Inquisitor or anything, but Julia-san's plan had such glaring flaws that it would have been harder not to exploit them.
I love you as a relative, ma'am, but you have a husband of your own! He barely looks older than your daughter! You can make
him do your precious chin-ups!
Tonight we had decided to dine from Wendy's, both because another Pressman was in need of business and because their food generally stayed the warmest during the walk from and to Veronique's apartment complex. It was a shorter distance than Beef Stack, which gave me less time to enjoy the quaint little flyover town's sights and sounds but also spared me the trouble of being tempted by the smells of the Wolfman Blake's combo meals that I would have to endure as I walked past. Wendy's was right there, quick and easy, a sharp end to my path before I reached the branching forks of temptation.
Curse me for thinking anything in a life even as seemingly dull, inspired, and unachieving as mine was ever going to just be that simple.
As ironic as it may sound, pinpointing the exact moment where the object of this story changed my life can prove kind of difficult. You would think that in such a picturesque small town, on such an important night in my life, confronted with a remarkable girl such as the one I bumped into...well, it sounds like the perfect storm of eidetic imagery, right? Unfortunately, you're used to dealing with Gold Stripes and Mistralian scientists and all-around star students, not the kind of person who takes a look at a stunning girl and, having by now been inoculated to the weird genetic quirk in all Mistralian girls that lent itself towards superhuman cuteness, instead says:
"Whoa, what's wrong with your face?"Even Jericho would have slapped me for that goof-up of a pickup line. He wouldn't have been wrong. Speer probably would have just hanged himself. Sorry to my friends in the Atlesian elite, but there are some things money can't buy. For everything else, there's MasterTard.
...Where did that come from!?
That wasn't good, that wasn't a good one at all! The oldest form of humor was going senile
aaaaaaaargh!Maybe it was because she looked so...so...
...familiar?
Specifically the family portion of familiar...
For even though her eyes were not sky blue, but the shade of molten gold that could only be found in one of Albert Morgan's swimming pools--
--despite the fact that she was clearly on the wrong end of Mistral to be so--
--and despite the blood that coated one cheek and ran down her neck like a smear of paint--
--she had the cheesy grin of a Fiordilatte.
"Salve," she simpered, lips pursing as a fat drip of blood fell down her top--
(i'm ashamed to say my eyes guided it down)
--and twisting back from pout to easy smile.
"You look like a very charming boy. Does a charming boy like you know where to find a good, ah, bike mechanic?"I don't know who she thought I, a young man in lazy yet assured lockstep along the sidewalk,
not the bike path into town, thought I had any idea where to find a good bike mechanic -- even though I was no slouch myself after having owned a bike and captained her through Shiroyama for so many years. And how did she even guess I was charming? I haven't said a polite word to you yet! A woman who was greeted with a pickup line like that would slap you for your insolence!
Unless you were Lauren!
Then it becomes sexy somehow!?
Truly, eb-onee-sama's ways were a mystery to me...
If you've noticed the puns slipping into my dialect, I assure you that they're not going to become a trend, at least not in the story on my end.
...Nor are rhymes.
"Ahh, I'm sure there's one in town...but it's getting kind of late for anyone who runs a trade to be open," I said apologetically, scratching the back of my head. My eyes took note of the situation, and my natural impulse to give her a hand with what I could only assume from the blood and her line of questioning was an accident was tempered by all the experience I'd cultivated with the guys and girls I'd met at Beacon. What was it Jericho kept saying to Bianca during her personal training?
Don't ever let a word leave your ears without your mind cross-analyzing it, and don't let your mind settle on anything without your eyes double-checking for it.Granted, that was the day Jericho had convinced Bianca that her given name and surname meant 'gullible' and 'nitwit' respectively in the Mistralian root language, but the contrast between my birdbrained teammate and I was just more proof that you could learn a lot when you weren't putting all your attention on how perfectly formed the instructor's butt is.
"So...did you leave your bike at the scene of the accident?" I asked the Mistralian girl. Her eyes widened slightly, and her head tilted more unhealthily to one side.
As if this were a SHAFT anime!
They don't have the money to keep animating all these side stories!
"Yeah, I did. Back in the woods."Well, that explained why I wouldn't have run into any trace of it during my walk up to this point...
"Why'd you leave your bike all the way back in the woods?""I was getting nervous around all the sharp branches," she said matter-of-factly.
"One cut my face when I flew."That explained the blood...although it was coating part of her face pretty heavily for something as simple as one branch.
"Why were you biking through the woods if you were nervous around branches?""I was trying to avoid them."...!?
Then why not just--
"You could stick with the bike path.""I could," she conceded, shifting her weight to one slightly wobbly leg and tilting her head unhealthily in the
other direction.
"But then I wouldn't get practice at avoiding the branches. The branches are lava."Then what does that make the floor!?
"Well, if you're scared of lava I hope you have the good sense not to go near a volcano with your bike...""Why? Are you saying that I'm a klutz that would be stupid enough to tumble headlong into a volcano, or are you trying to imply that I'm an impure thot who has no business being atop a volcano in the first place for want of virginity? You think I'm a streetwalker, you faux-charming boy?"No. No no no! This can't be happening to me again! Just once a girl can speak like a normal human!
"No, that's not what I'm saying at all! I only implied--""--that I wasn't good enough to be thrown into a volcano as a virgin sacrifice. Well, I want you to know that of course I could. What's the harm? I do lava good bonfire."...
Absolutely a Fiordilatte.
"But don't you worry, I'm a magma-nimous person."Magnanimous! With two n's! That pun was
such a reach!
"So I forgive you. What's your name, fraternity boy?"I wish I could have repudiated that claim, but one thought of how many times I've teamed up with Solomon Speer to mess with the other Atlesians put the words on ice on my tongue.
"Luke Schwarz," I introduced myself politely.
"And you are...?""Giada," she greeted me with a courteous bow, so low that her bloody cheek almost touched the pavement. The drop of blood that had rolled down her neck splashed against the pavement with a crimson
pop! "Giada Fiordilatte. I hope the night finds you well, Luca.""Well, actually, it does, but it's Lucas...""So, Luca, while I'm out prowling the streets for a man to throw me into the volcano to provide you proof of my virtue, or a man who can fix my bike," she barreled right over me,
"what brings you out here tonight?"A fair question. By now Julia-san was probably getting ready to start blowing up my phone to make sure I'd arrived at Wendy's okay...
"I'm picking up dinner for my foster family," I explained.
"They asked for Wendy's, and I like the walk, so...""Ahh, Wendy's, eh? Not Big Tohunga Burger? It's right across the street.""Yeah, but they have a family member who works there and--""Perhaps we may both find what we seek there," she suggested amiably.
"After all, what's a Big Tohunga if not a Kraka-toa?"Don't try and ma-nuva your way into your eatery of choice! Julia-san gave me the exact change for Wendy's!
"I'm afraid they made up their minds..." I said, shrugging with a peevish smile.
"Maybe next time, though. I have a long summer ahead of me.""Ah, you're here for the summer..." said Giada Fiordilatte thoughtfully. She trailed off for a second before spinning around, and offering me her left arm, perhaps trying to distance me politely from the bloody coat that had been splashed over her face's right side. When she lifted up the crook of her elbow, I saw that there was a medium-sized stain of blood blossoming from a small rip in her purple hoodie...but I didn't see a wound, or a bandage.
I'm following your advice, Jer...but what's it telling me?I, of all people, knew there was nothing that weird about healing powers, after all. To a person like me, a complete restoration of a misshapen or destroyed bike could be far more costly than some minor injuries from tumbling through some tree branches.
Although that didn't look like a puncture wound, come to think of it...
At least, not one that had been made by anything from nature.
It was too clean.
"You're gawking at me like a monolithic head," teased the girl who could only be Napoli Fiordilatte's sister.
"Am I not Moai enough for a cute little Shiroyaman boy like you?"What the--hey, I'm not Tanner! My attire doesn't scream
village hick in any sense!
"It's moe," I corrected, even though such a gesture was mostly useless. Because I got the sense she wasn't going to quit until I threw her this bone, I caught up to where she was and linked arms with her gingerly, taking care not to exacerbate any wound she
may have had...all while my eyes ran two quick glances over her side looking for any evidence that the skin underneath the hoodie was actually broken.
Nothing.
Thankfully, her attention was elsewhere, golden gaze pointed firmly in the direction of the north side of Crystal Castles, which we were fast approaching.
"So, two young, hip darlings on the way to grab dinner," she hummed with a faint smile. She had a beautiful smile, as pearlescent as the castles that had once stood in the center of this hamlet before the Great War...but a few of her teeth seemed a little...crooked?
No.
Sharp.
"You know what they would call this in film, Luca?"Her canines...
"Luke..."Her canines were as sharp and pale as lightning in a stormy sky.
"A meat cute."This was shaping up to be a big mistake.
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