50: I Like You

No, it wasn't KB, it couldn't have been. But as much as I tried to believe this, I knew it was. Because I didn't want to believe what came along next. So I made up excuse after excuse because I knew, I'd never be able to tell anyone of her without crushing what was left of my dignity. So I followed after her, because I needed an excuse for my conscience.

She and Neritha sat at the bar, talking, drinking, like good friends would. Like they weren't who they were. But could they have been just that? Just friends catching up after a while? It wasn't impossible, but even I couldn't fool myself into believing that that was the least plausible explanation.

And suddenly, I had an idea. What if I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just return to Cyr and I tell him nothing. I continue to do nothing. Then I return to the Castle and I continue to do nothing until Lady Higgins returns. But that seemed to sum up to worse than what I had already done.

But the longer I did something the more I felt like nothing. Empty and lost. A body without a soul, just passing through. A life without a purpose.

I was standing in a dark place, when someone caught me from behind and slid a blade under my throat. And I didn't fight back because I didn't think it was necessary. I welcomed what was sure to come next.

"Did Cyr send you?" Neritha whispered into my ear. Her blade hiking against my throat, tearing my skin only by a sliver. "December, is that what you're called again?"

When I didn't say anything she hissed, grabbed a clump of my hair and forced my head back, giving herself more area of my throat to decorate with her blade. "Won't you speak dear? Or would you rather not for the rest of your life as well?"

A beam of light cut through the darkness and illuminated a patch of loose earth. Before my very eyes sprouted a flower. Gold and many-petaled, it grew, a Marigold. The breath caught in my throat and before I knew it tentaclelike structures lunged towards us, no not me, to her. Her grip loosened and I fell to my knees gasping for air. I turned behind me to find tendrils coiling around her body, squeezing and suffocating her.

"That's enough!" I reached for her, clawing at the tendrils.

Her body lowered to the earth as the tendrils slipped off her body and disappeared into the shadows. But as soon as her feet touched the earth she swung her blade. And I didn't know what she had done till half my cheek was on the ground and my warm blood hit my skin with a puff of steam. I doubled over screaming. So this is what pain feels like.

Her sword came down on me again when another blade met hers. I didn't need to think too hard to know who had arrived.

"This katana," Philip said, "where did you get it?"

Metal scraped against metal. Sparks flew. A light laugh.

"Who are you?" Neritha murmured. She disengaged but just the same her thin long blade swung, clashing with Philip's.

"Not anyone that should concern you," Philip said lowly. "We didn't come to fight."

"Well you've fought enough to make me think otherwise," she bit back, her eyes narrowing as she pushed on her sword.

"We'll leave quietly if you'll let us."

She smirked, but immediately returned to a cold regard. "I don't trust you." Her grip twisted and lunged towards Philip's chest.

Her blade met his chest and sunk beneath his skin but before it could go any further a shout filled the alley. "NO!"

"They're just his lackeys, spare them," she said, stepping into the light. Her snakes flaring, hissing in all directions agitatedly.

"Look at what a comfortable life has done to you," Neritha chided. She pulled away, swiped her blade clean of our blood and sheathed her sword. His own sword fell from his grasps and crumbled to dirt.

KB shook her head. "If there's anything I've learned since I've left is that no one should be killed for no good reason. Let them go."

"No good reason," Neritha spat. "What have they done to you?" Her daunting grey eyes ran over us. "Leave while she's still here. And tell your leader, I'll consider his offer only when he begins to trust me."

~~~

Philip and I returned in a tense silence that seemed to coil around my throat. We spoke not a word, not since he'd discarded me like something used and worthless. Not since he broke my heart.

But we'd only walked so far when he caught me by the wrist and led me under the thicket. I let him lead me, numbly. He sat me at a boulder as his gaze swept our surroundings. I watched him, studying his every move, drinking in his presence. He swiped a hand through the air and at once the earth at my feet was awash in green. Small plants with leaves that twisted and curled in a mass.

He crouched, plucked up a handful, squished it within his grasps and layered it onto a piece of cloth he had retrieved from his pocket. He approached me, eyes vacant and as dark as night.

He pressed the cloth against my face, against my open wound igniting a sting that revived the pain. I replaced his hand, holding the cloth as I continued to watch him, as he watched me.

Who'd do it? Who'd break the silence, remind us of what had transpired between us?

I tugged him by his shirt, as his eyes widened, lifting it so that his toned midriff shown. "Take it off," I crooned. I guess it was me who spoke first, but long forgotten were his words.

His shirt off in a heartbeat. My cheeks burned at the sight of him, reviving the longing for that sensation I had long hidden away within the part of my mind where I'd placed unreachable dreams. Like dreams of a home with a family of my own, a life of normality. For someone who'd see past my scales and flames, who'd love me for me like the way dad loved mom.

I plucked a leaf from a plant that grew up against the boulder. A plant mom used often to patch and treat our wounds. After basking the leaf in a puff of flames, I pressed it to his wounded chest.

The drum of his heart pulsated under my hand, reverberating through me, syncing with my own, fast. His skin warm, warmer than normal. His cheeks flushed, his darkened eyes trained on me.

"You have a fever," I chided. "I knew we should have gone down earlier."

But he didn't speak, instead his eyes searched my countenance fiercely.

"Aren't you angry?" He finally said, softly. "Don't you hate me?"

No. Never. I smiled. "I said I'd forgive you, didn't I?"

"I'm sorry Mo." His eyes anywhere but on me. "I'm sorry I pushed you away like that. I regretted it immediately. The moment I saw you under her blade, I knew I was the biggest idiot ever. I knew leaving you meant I'd never be there to protect you. To keep you smiling. You wouldn't be there by my side to keep me warm."

I stuffed down the smile creeping across my face and scoffed.

"You are an idiot," I huffed and dropped my hand. He floundered about trying to catch the leaf. Regaining his composure, he sported a crooked grin, the same grin that I once thought belonged to a lunatic. "Don't do that again, ever, or I'll never speak to you again, I swear."

"I'd hug you but," he motioned to his blood-coated chest. To his very ripped self. I averted my eyes, swallowing, sweating suddenly.

"Oh don't be shy, your welcome to stare all you want." I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

I kept my gaze glued to the tiny plants beneath my feet. "You can put on your shirt now."

"Mo," he said. With no hint of mockery,  he demanded my attention. I found his dark obsidian eyes. "I thought I'd be able to let you go. But I didn't realize just how difficult that'd be. I liked you enough to know I didn't want to hurt you but I didn't like you so little to not hurt when you hurt."

His words floated about. "I don't think...I understand."

"I like you Mo. A lot."

A/n: whaaaaa, yeah I know you saw that coming. Though I'd like to say I'm an expert at romance with the amount of romance books and movies (and not mention the anime and kdrama) I comsume, I most definitely am not. I guess you really have to experience it to truly understand it. Because sometimes the 'romance' books I read, feel like half the time they're resisting the urge to bed the other and the other half they're bedding each other. And I ask myself if that is all there is to it, sex? I don't think romance or love of that sort should be based on sex, because when sex becomes unavailable, that romance is rendered pointless. Love shouldn't demand something to thrive. It should be present regardless of circumstance. A romance begins best as a friendship because a friendship is the purest form of love, it needs nothing to prosper, true friendship is always there in times of high and low, with or without. But that's just my take on love.