♛ The Prince, ⚔ the Soldier, & the Gifted ☀ #2

[~Teya~]

ＭＵＲＬé ＢＵＲＮＳ: 21
Chapter twenty one

Ｔime passes differently in a prison cell.
Every grueling moment scraping by like nails on a chalkboard. The sun comes up, the sun goes down, but nothing ever really changes. The same stale food, and the same gray walls with the same incoherent etchings and faint red stains no doubt from previous prisoners. The same him. Wishing in every moment that he would be saved from this place, like some silly fairy tale where the Prince came to save the day and conquer the Big Baddies.
It was hard to tell anymore how deep the evil dug into the foundations of this island. Was Enojado the only truly evil one? The only one not worthy of saving? Or were the FFA just like Enojado—was he like the FFA?
Not worthy of saving.
Without him, Inkina would have never made it to the palace, and they would have never went to La Gula, where all this really started.
Looking up to the high barred window on the far side of the room, the pale moonlight was the only source of light streaming into the cool jail cell.



The thought of sleep was a vague memory at this point, so he resorted to dreaming while still wide awake. With so much free time on his hands, he had time to reflect; on how things had gotten to this point, and what was to come. Yet there was really no way of knowing what was going on outside of the cell, since Inkina hadn’t spoken since the young FFA soldier, Bablou, had left and hadn’t returned. That was yesterday, or maybe two days ago—he didn’t remember, nor did he really care.
Tapping the collar tightly latched around his neck musingly, the metallic ting it made echoed dully throughout the room cloaked in shadow.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” came a light voice hidden in the dark, so fragile he thought it might shatter in the heavy night air.
His eyes narrowed, straining to make her out. “Why would you care? I doubt if this—death band around my throat zapped me to a crisp you’d bat a single eye,” Murlé retorted, his dry throat causing his voice to crack in the middle of a sentence due to the lack of water he had within the past ‘whatever’ amount of days.
There was a prolonged pause, and he wondered for a moment if he had scared Inkina off from paining his ears further.
“So you know what it does?” Inkina asked with a rise of surprise, and quickly hushed again. “What it feels like.”
“Yeah, I know.” He swallowed with effort as his gaze dropped to his knees.
“It was nice, not having to wear one for a few days,” she said slowly, her figure on the bed coming into view once his eyes fully adjusted from the light of the window. “But now it’s a part of me again.”
“How long had you been wearing it before?” he asked, curiosity edging into his voice. Footsteps could be heard passing outside as he waited for an answer.
“Over a year,” she mused with a sigh. “Enojado made sure I was one of the first to wear a working prototype before everyone else was unlucky enough to experience it too.” Murlé was silent, fiddling with a stray strand of his torn pants. “He wanted to control me in every way possible, to dig down as far as he could and see how much we could take—”
“‘We’?” His eyebrow raised.
“What, did you think I was the only one ‘ol Enojado used as his personal, free time experimental pet?” Inkina scoffed, “Viscets . . . came and went, there were only a few of us that survived as long as we did,” her voice quivered, “I remember their screams, all the way down the hall in another room,” Inkina sucked in a partial breath, covering her mouth with one hand and turning her face away from the pale moonlight so her features were hidden. “So yeah, there were others. But don’t worry, they’re all dead so you won’t have to worry about any more monsters!”
Room threatening to boil over in the growing silence barricading the two, Murlé hesitated and restrained a hasty response.
“Sorry,” he murmured, fidgeting from his resting place on the floor.
Ever since they had been trapped in this cell together, he had wanted to push Inkina into showing something. But now that he had done it on accident, it didn’t feel all that gratifying.
“It doesn’t matter no more,” she muttered halfheartedly.
“It matters alright. In fact, it matters a damn lot,” Murlé countered, suddenly overcome with a need to cut whatever roundabout circus ride the two of them had been on for the past few days. “This isn’t some sort of game. Those viscets that are dead mattered, Inkina.” Rubbing his forehead and shaking his head, he tried to look at her, but Inkina’s eyes studied the ground instead. His tone grew kinder. “You matter. And whatever Enojado has planned, that I know you at least have some idea about, matters too.” Pausing, Murlé placed a hand on the wall and rose to his feet. She glanced up, and their gazes connected. “Now are you going to tell me what happened to you, or are you just going to sulk in your warm cocoon of self pity for the rest of your life?”
A melancholic smile appeared on her face. “You think you know me?”
“I think I have a right to know, since you’re the one that got us into this mess.”
Inkina let out a little laugh that almost startled him. “You sure do have a way with words, don’t you, Burns?” Her smile faded as her eyebrows furrowed somberly in thought. “No more games, okay?” she whispered.
There was a click, and a moment later a warm yellow lamp light illuminated Inkina sitting on the bed. And now her strange, thickened tail with a half face made of nothing but hair could be seen too. Raising his chin a little, he watched as Inkina retracted her hand from the lamp and shifted on the bed. Swinging her curled up feet onto the ground and hesitating to release her hands from behind on the bed, her thin legs dotted with white speckles trembled.
“So how are we going to do this?” Inkina asked lowly, pursing her lips. He wavered, opening his mouth to speak just as she hastily added, “just—ask me anything.” She cleared her throat, looking up at him expectantly with jaw visibly rigid nervously.
Pausing and crossing his arms, Murlé glanced away momentarily to think before coming back to her anxious figure.
“Back in La Gula . . . did you really wish for Arathorn’s death?”
“In that moment, yes. I did,” Inkina confessed, “that’s how Enojado got me to cooperate with his plan to lure the Prince to somewhere he could be assassinated—and create a controversy around it so that the Kingdom would be weakened by the roots by the time he got to the Queen, too,” she bit her lip, “and I know you’re wondering if I still think that way towards your friend, and my truthful answer is: I don’t know what to feel about anything anymore,” she said, and Murlé nodded passively in response.
It seemed so stupid now, how furious he had been with his friend on behalf of Inkina and the viscets of La Gula. And now there was a distinct possibility that was going to be the last conversation he would ever have with Arathorn. That is, if he didn’t get the hell out of here soon.
“Wait—what ‘controversy’?” Murlé questioned with a furrowed brow. Her hands interlocked, eyes beginning to wander.
“Enojado had it all figured out. Assassinate Arathorn in La Gula and bribe a local who knew the Prince had given the order to remove its main source of protection and pin it on them.” Inkina straightened. “The story would spread like wildfire of the local’s reasons, hopefully beginning the process of dividing the entire Kingdom. And then the final blow, which was the part that Enojado really liked, would be an organized protest in the streets of Amarilla claiming “He deserved his death and no one in this Kingdom is safe” with a neat little bow tied to the undertone that maybe the Sirena Kingdom is better off surrendering to the Free for All, because everyone would at least be safe, and no one else would need to die.”
“Wow,” Murlé responded in a subdued daze of new information, “that’s . . . insane.”
“He’s insane, and smart enough to pull it off, too,” Inkina countered, inadvertently hugging her arms close with ears pinned back.
“I wonder if it would have worked,” Murlé thought aloud in a half mutter as he lowered his gaze from Inkina.
“Life before all this . . . it feels like that wasn’t even real. Like he warped so much about my life, that there is no longer anything from before.”
“Was Enojado there, in La Gula, when the FFA came for everyone six months ago?” he asked, swallowing as he glanced up.
“No, I don’t think so. But I remember one of his partners there, when he was scouting for the perfect candidates for their little experiment.”
“Wait, hold up—he has partners?!” Murlé cried with eyes rounded and ears perked to catch every word. Inkina shrugged dismissively.
“They were always so . . . in sync. Like, they all knew what had to be done, so none of them ever questioned the other when they were doing something horrible to us.” Her features darkened. “She was worse than him sometimes.”
“There was a woman?!” Murlé exclaimed and held his arms above his head as he looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Why didn’t you explain this earlier?”
“Seqiuala,” Inkina replied simply, gaze burning into the wall behind him. “Her eyes . . . I hated her eyes.” She paused, “and before you ask—yes. She and the other guy are both bastards from Enojado’s planet too,” she added, breathing in sharply through her nose and exhaling as her contemplative frown deepened.
“This . . . this changes everything,” he huffed, pacing back and forth.
“So there are three insane aliens instead of one. It doesn’t matter in the long run anymore,” Inkina grumbled, still set on lasering a hole in the wall directly in front of her.
“Don’t you understand? That means they have had a means to create more deranged bundles of joy this whole time!” Murlé cried, suppressing the need to flail his arms about in an attempt to rid them of their newfound energy. “I’d bet Sunora is meant to replace this—Seqiuala, and continue this lunatic scheme,” he muttered, unable to swallow the sickened taste in his mouth. Inkina shook her head mournfully.
“She was so nice to me, and I never even stopped to think of anything but my stupid revenge—” Cutting herself off, Inkina froze.
Loud cheering erupted from outside, echoing far and wide. Their eyes held with one another in confusion before simultaneously turning to look up towards the barred window.
A shot rang out somewhere in the building as laughter and clapping exploded from what must be the far side of the building. A second shot boomed from a distance. His legs grew weak, heart thundering louder than the gunshots in his ears.
By the time he looked back, Inkina’s trembling legs buckled beneath her and she collapsed onto her knees, clamping her hands over her ears.
“Inkina!” Kneeling by her side, his hand paused in midair before dropping onto her thin shoulder. With her eyes pressed tightly closed, she swatted his hand away.
The voices and sounds grew steadily louder around them as the two of them sat in silence in the dark, hollow cell.
Letting out a muffled gasp at another gunshot, this time more distinct and easily recognizable as a shotgun, Inkina’s shaking figure was unable to quiet. Jumping as well at the sound of a tank going off, Murlé let in a deep, long breath to calm his own startled nerves.
“Talk to me, Ink. Please,” he begged, spotting her tail on the other side of her, and it was shaking too. Inkina shook her head, digging her face further into her knees. “I don’t know what this is—but it’ll pass, I’m sure of it.”
“I’m so tired of bein’ scared—” Inkina choked, her damp cheeks glistening in the moonlight. Taking a thumb and brushing a tear from her cheek as she glanced up at him, Murlé smiled wearily.
“Then we can be as frightened as we want to be and scream to our hearts content like little babies together—eh?” His lip curled in a mischievous smirk and jumped to his feet. Cupping his hands together, he yelled towards the window, “you hear that? We’re so Goddamned scared but we don’t care!”
“What are you doing? They’re going to hear you,” Inkina warned whilst rubbing her eyes and at the same time couldn’t hide the faint smile creeping across her face.
“I’m gonna yell! Everyone else seems to be doing it in this odd hour of night—why shouldn’t we join in on the fun?” he exclaimed as he half danced about the room. “In fact, they seem to be in such a jolly mood they’re probably all doing the waltz as we speak.” Extending out his hand to Inkina, her shy features lit up, then hesitated.
“No, I can’t.”
“And why not?” he countered, pretending to feel hurt and retracting his hand in an overly-dramatic fashion.
“Because—” Holding a finger up, she bit her lip. “Because I’d look silly, and I’m actually sort’ve tired, so—” Letting out a yelp of surprise as Murlé tucked his arms beneath her and scooped her up, he began side-stepping across the floor.
“Not an issue!” he promised. “The more ridiculous and silly, the better!” he declared, completing a full spin as a series of gunshots and the muffled roaring crowds of cheers and applause from all directions echoed around them. Giggling blissfully, her arms tightened behind his neck as he did another quick spin and laughed.
“You’re crazy Murlé Burns,”
“Aren’t we all, in our own way?” he countered with a small smile.
“Yeah, well some more than others.”
“You can say that again.”

* * *

Warmth tickled the side of his face, lightly urging him to open his heavy eyelids, head slumped resting on his shoulder. Groaning as he shifted on the floor, his breath caught, eyes flickering half open to gaze down at Inkina still in his arms fast asleep. His expression softened, smiling faintly to himself and leaning his head back against the wall.
Sometimes the quiet wasn’t so bad.
The gray room was filled with an early morning orange light, causing their surroundings not to look quite as bleak as usual. Eyelids drooping closed again, he let out a contented breath.
Hurried footsteps sounded outside before skidding to a halt outside the door to his left. Eyes flicking open, keys twisted inside the lock.
The door popped, and Inkina tensed beneath him, suddenly wide awake and wriggling out of his lap. A cerulean hand came into view, and then the head of Bablou peeked into the cell.
“Bablou! What happened last night?” Inkina asked groggily as both her and Murlé got to their feet. Closing the door behind him, Bablou let out an exhausted sigh and rubbed his face.
“I’ve been awake all night. Two drunk Corporal’s wanted to show and explain to me in detail, “What a real party is like,” urgh, it was painful.”
Murlé and Inkina waited for him to continue, glancing at one another impatiently. Sensing their unrest as Bablou looked up, he straightened gravely.
“The party . . . yeah—you could hear it?” Bablou asked slowly, studying them.
“Sense neither of us are deaf, yeah, we could hear it alright,” Murlé mocked, placing one hand on his hip. Bablou nodded silently, giving off no intention to counteract his snide remark.
“I—well,” Bablou stuttered and scratched his head as his eyes gravitated to him. Murlé tensed, his breath growing shallow at the strange, almost sympathetic stare he was giving him. “Remember what I said, about a lot of us soldier’s movin’ out? Well, that happened,” he continued, milking every word for what it was worth to seemingly talk as slow as sluggishly possible, “and then the news came not long after of where they went. Ciudad Amarilla.” Bablou swallowed, stiff as a pin. Murlé waited, heart already beginning to crumble. “The Queen, and the Prince . . .” his voice trailed off, his wincing read verbally in his voice as Inkina turned to Murlé as well. “Enojado killed ‘em both.”
“A—and Sunora?” was all he could ask without thinking too hard about what Bablou had just revealed.
“I have no idea.”
His world faded around him and any further comments from Bablou were lost.
He took a step back.
His mind ran blank—he couldn’t think of anything, couldn’t feel anything.
Hand going up to his forehead and running his fingers through his mane, his eyes refused to focus on anything, and in turn his vision became a blur.
This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t real.
He was supposed to be the one likely to die before they could reunite—not the other way around. It wasn’t fair.
He’s the one that deserved death.
It didn’t matter if he died, but Arathorn? Belleza? Who was going to fight against the FFA now?
“We have to leave now, while there’s still a chance—” he overheard Bablou arguing with Inkina.
He didn’t care. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore.
Staggering off to the farthest wall and placing a hand on the rough cement as he stared at the sea of gray, he uttered a single word.
“Go.”
The haze of voices ceased for a moment, and not long after he heard the door creak open and bolt shut.
His hand closed into a fist as his heart quickened and let out a yell, pulling in all of his strength and swinging his fist directly into the wall.
Letting out a choked gasp as he stumbled backwards while cradling his throbbing hand, he shut his eyes tight.
Breathing in sharply, the wall made a dull thud as his fist slammed into the hard concrete. Eyes watering from the fiery sting, he managed a strangled yell and went in for a third blow, ending with an audible crack jarring through his hand.
Barely able to breathe through the pain and sucking in a broken breath, he leaned his head on the wall and focused on the nauseating agony his torn up knuckled hand pulsed fiercely with. The silence beat heavily in his ears as he stood there, eyes traveling across the barren floor that lent him no comfort.
“I figured I’d wait til you stopped punchin’ to speak; just to make sure you didn’t do the same to me,” Inkina spoke quietly from behind. He flinched, turning hesitantly to face her.
“I . . . I thought you left to escape with your friend,” he replied with a sniff, jaw clenching as he held his weakened hand.
“I still am—but you’re coming too,” she responded frankly, and he thought it cute the way she straightened her shoulders and neck to seem more authoritative.
“Sorry, Ink. You kids run along—go live your life and get married, I don’t care. Just leave me alone to rot, will ya?”
“I won’t do that,” she insisted, striding over to him just as he glanced away. “Your life shouldn’t revolve around one viscet. You can still live and be happy and—”
“Arathorn wasn’t just some nobody. He was the Prince of the Kingdom, not to mention his mother. And now there can be no new ruler to fight the FFA back.”
“So if he wasn’t a royal, and was just some nobody like my family, you’d be alright and would come with me?”
“No! Of course I’m not saying that,” he paused, looking down thoughtfully. “Look. Prince or not—he was the only one that believed in me before anyone else. Now just leave me alone, got that you ‘lil heckler?” he groaned, leaning his shoulder in the opposite direction of her.
“Well now your training wheels are off. Now it’s time to believe in yourself for once!” Inkina argued, twisting around to the other side of him.
“Oh no, you can’t play that game with me,” Murlé growled, returning her gaze that was just as stubborn as his, “stop using that inspirational bull to coax me into coming with you so you can use me as a meat shield,” he countered, and Inkina stopped, placing both hands on her hips and thinking down for a moment. “Gotcha, didn’t I?” he added smugly.
“But I do know you,” Inkina said, gazing up at him now with a look of determination he’d never seen before. “Do you really think that anyone around or in the FFA doesn’t know who the infamous FFA soldier is?” She smiled. “Who ran away to Ciudad Amarilla with the Prince, because he said “No.” And didn’t want the life of an FFA soldier anymore?” Inkina beamed, and he raised a bewildered eyebrow. “And after that, exposed the former Kingdom’s King of being a crazy bastard that wanted to kill you because he thought there was zero good in any FFA soldier?” she continued, “not to mention you got shot by him in the process and survived to tell the tale? That’s amazing!” she exclaimed eagerly with a faraway look in her eye as she grinned while scarcely able to catch her breath. Murlé was silent, and honestly didn’t know what to say. He’d never really thought about anyone in the FFA knowing who he was past the want to execute him for desertion.
“Who told you all this?”
“Bablou,” she responded almost instantly, “and I’ve overheard lots of other more exaggerated chatter, too—but I know his is the only really truthful one.” Inkina smirked shyly. “So you see, you can be sad and all about your friends, but . . . they weren’t the only ones that have made an impact on this war.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, but—”
“No buts! Believe in yourself, Burns. And if you can’t do that because you think it’s too selfish or something pigheadedly stupid like that, do it for those who know you’re better than you keep telling yourself you are.”
“How long have you been holding that in?” Murlé questioned as a small smile played across his lips.
“It just . . . came to mind,” she said with a shrug, holding out her hand to him. Staring down at her open hand, he hesitantly reached out and took it with his good hand. Smiling, Inkina wasted no time dragging him across the room to the door and giving it a peppy knock. Immediately the door swung open and the two made it out into the bright hallway.
“I hope you two are ready, we haven’t much time,” Bablou said, glancing from one to the other. They both nodded.
“Ready or not, here I come,” Murlé muttered under his breath as the trio began walking down the corridor.

------

What could possibly go wrong?

[Ranger of the North]

Idk whether to love Inkina or Murlé more

[Winchester's Wolf]

Damn Ink, expose Murle like that XD
she's an innocent child with a smart mouth

and you call me out on my character's smart remarks lmao

[~Teya~]

Idk whether to love Inkina or Murlé more

Hard choice ;3

Damn Ink, expose Murle like that XD
she's an innocent child with a smart mouth

and you call me out on my character's smart remarks lmao

I got it all from u, it's ur fault

[~Teya~]

ՏԱИѺГѦ: 22
Chapter twenty two

“Щhat’s your name?”
Throat tightening as she barely managed to swallow, her unsteady hands stroked the leather seating of the interior in the spotless vehicle half-mindedly.
“Where are your parents?”
She flinched, struggling to register the troubled voice of the viscet sitting next to her in the backseat. Turning her head slowly towards the tinted window to her right side, the sweet scent of the woman’s perfume entered her nose.
“I say already, no parent,” she murmured, eyes scanning the fast passing city streets.
“Oh. Yes—I apologize,” the woman corrected in a tone softer than honey. “Where is your guardian, then? Er—relatives, perhaps?” she questioned tentatively.
Her mouth stayed locked shut. Staring back at the small figure of a girl in tattered clothing with long sleeves and drowsy eyes half closed reflecting back in the window of her, she fiddled with the hole in her jeans as the woman talked.
“There has to be a reason—back at the parade, you saved me and my husbands life,” she began in curious amazement, “how did you know that viscet intended us harm?”
It was so clean and perfect in here, and she felt so dirty. She didn’t deserve to be here. Why was she here?
Probably guessing that she had no intention of replying to her, the woman continued. “The parade was going normally like it does every year, with lots of cheers and smiling faces. I look forward to it whenever the day begins to draw near,” she admitted thoughtfully, “but this time was different—in the middle of it all, as we waved, I saw you. Sprinting through the crowd as fast as you could and appearing distraught,” her tone turned grave. “And later still did I notice the man posing as a royal guard, until he revealed the pistol hidden in his coat.” She stopped.
Her gaze held outside the window and the moving streets, the entrancing motion of parked cars in every conceivable color blurring past her. Closing her eyes, a cold shiver stung her spine as she absentmindedly coiled herself inwards.
“But the exact moment I saw the gleam of metal, the next thing I knew, a little girl was leaping onto his back and holding his arm just long enough for others to step in.”
She was still, giving off no visible reaction to the woman’s words filled with astonishment.
“Do you realize how brave you are?” she asked, her fair face visible in the reflection of the window. “Once I saw all that, I didn’t care what anyone advised. I had to speak with you, and thank you for what you had done.”
Her breath caught as a gentle hand laid over her own tense ones. She didn’t move.
That . . . feeling.
She recalled the feeling of her wrist being jerked left and right, prying hands sliding against the edge of her cheek, laughing faces carved with clownish glee spying for a peek and grabbing at the air as she ran, fingers brushing against her arm or the collar of her jacket. All she had wanted was to escape. To run.
“But once I saw that no one was clearly with you, and you said only that you had no parents and gave no mention of anyone else, I couldn’t live with myself leaving you there—alone.”
Retracting her hands away, she watched the pale pink viscet through the window as she glanced down and pursed her lips reluctantly. Placing her hand back on her lap, the woman shifted in her seat.
“Isn’t there somewhere I can take you?” she ventured, uncertainty laced in her lavender eyes.
Pausing for a moment, she turned to look up at the woman for the first time. The woman faltered, obviously not expecting her to turn to her so suddenly.
“What about your home, is that where you want to go?” she added, expression brightening hopefully.
“W-want,” she uttered musingly. Her face lit up as a thought popped into her mind; what she really wanted, and smiled back at the woman.
“Yes, you want what?” she pressed, hanging on her every word as she leaned in closer.
Licking her lips, she thought of a way to respond. “I want—to leave,” she beamed, pointing at the backside of the car and the way they had come from eagerly.
Gaze darkening with disappointment, the woman’s eyebrows furrowed in thought as her shoulders slumped down as she let out a breath.
For a long moment, silence sliced into her perked up ears that quickly pinned back. She stiffened, confusion ringing in her mind as she stared back at the woman expectantly that now had her gaze aimed away from her.
Why wouldn’t she want that?
“If you left, where would you go?” Her expression still unseen, the woman clasped one hand on her arm with her head bowed. “No parents, no guardian? You’re bound to starve,” voice low and subdued, it ached with a knowing confidence that she was right; and they both knew it.
“I manage fine,” she countered in a mumble, folding her arms meekly as her own gaze dropped.
“Please, look at me.” Her words seemed strained now, with every other word causing her more distress.
She paused, wishing to shrivel up under a gaze so kind and sad as she glanced up. Eyes glistening with guilt, she felt weak in her presence.
“You’re coming home with me for now, understand?” she ordered with a faint quiver, straightening her neck. Pulling back a slot that opened a space through the barrier where the driver was, she couldn’t make out the words the woman said as her mind spun.
Eyes widening and mouth shooting open in protest, her throat locked for a moment. “N—no!” Rapidly shaking her head, her vision blurred in a fit of exasperation.
“I am not letting you roam about the streets any longer,” she countered calmly as she shut the slot, returning her gaze.
“I leave!” she exclaimed in growing desperation, pointing out the back window. Realizing in horror that the woman wasn’t going to change her mind, her hand grasped for the vehicle door handle and yanked as hard as she could to no avail.
“Do you really want to stay starving in the streets forever, is that why you’re so keen on leaving?”
“Leave,” she repeated in a hushed voice, hand slipping from the handle as she turned back to face the woman.
Her gaze was soft and sympathetic. “Everything is going to be alright now, I promise,” she said, “and you won’t have to be alone anymore,” she reassured her, taking a small glance out the window. “It won’t be long now till we reach my home. And don’t worry, this is the safest place you could possibly be in all of the Ciudads.”
Looking down as she fiddled with her hands, her breath caught, and tears began falling from her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” the woman asked quietly.
She said nothing, focusing on stifling her ragged breathing.
“Do you really just want to be let go?”
She shook her head as she wiped her eyes.
“ . . . Are you scared?”
Nodding, she blinked a few times to clear her sight.
A hand touched her chin and raised it up, causing her to look back at the woman smiling faintly.
“It’s going to be alright,” she added, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Come here,” she said, extending her arms out to her.
She paused, staring at her outreached arms.
Wavering, a shy smile edged across her lips. Coming into her embrace and melting in her arms, the soft material of her dress against her damp cheek felt comforting as she closed her eyes.
“You’re a very brave girl—remember that.”

* * *

Gasping as light began streaming through the open car door, her face nudged deeper into the woman’s dress.
“Take my hand,” she urged, gently peeling the child away from her. Taking her advice, she gave her small hand an encouraging squeeze as she shifted in her seat to exit the protected confines of the vehicle. Taking a step out the door awaited by a group of viscets standing by, she looked back at the girl attempting to tug her hand back into the car.
Head shaking back and forth adamantly, her pleading features held with hers.
“It’s alright. Keep hold of my hand and you’ll be just fine,” she promised, waiting for her to come along instead of pulling her forcefully forward.
Swallowing hard, her legs that felt as stable as flimsy sticks lifted up and stepped from the vehicle and into the hot sun. Staying close to her with ears stuck back at the many inquisitive faces staring back at her, she stifled the urge to cower back into the vehicle and hide. Pulling her long sleeved shirt further down and walking forward with her hand tightly clasped in the woman’s, her eyes were given time to adjust to the bright spring day. Her eyes widened.
Ascending above her stood a grandiose palace, its golden color gleaming in the sun’s rays. It was as tall as the skyscrapers with elegant curves and bends. Large windows of different shapes and sizes adorned its sides low and high with beautiful designs melded into the crystal clear glass. Sprinkled on the steps leading up to the entrance were small, scarlet flowers coming from a tree that looked more ancient than the palace itself. Striding down from the yellow steps came a tall, male viscet adorned in an array of captivating blue and red that she immediately recognized from the parade.
“Belleza!” Coming up to them and nuzzling his nose against the woman’s, he smiled. “I was almost worried—you took longer than my escort to arrive home.” Glancing down at her as she peered from behind Belleza’s dress, his gaze met with Belleza for a moment as his face flashed with an expression of puzzlement before looking back to her. “Weren’t you—?”
“I’ll explain everything later darling, I just need a little time with her, alone,” she cut in, placing a hand on his shoulder as Belleza’s eyes met hers. “Is that alright?”
“Ah, of course—by all means, Belle. I was just about to go check on Arathorn anyways.” Giving Belleza a peck on the cheek, his gaze held on the girl for another fleeting second before swiftly spinning away and heading back up the stairs and out of sight through the open doors.
It was all a blur of colors and voices once they made it into the interior of the palace. She’d never seen anything like it in her life—then again, she hadn’t seen much at all in her life.
It was all a mistake being in this city to begin with.
“Here we are,” came the startling voice of Belleza breaking through her trance of sights, sounds, and smells. “Are you alright?” she asked, staring down at her with eyebrows raised slightly. She nodded half-mindedly in response, glancing about the hallway she had suddenly found herself to be. “ . . . Did you hear anything I said before?” she added, lips playing with a skeptical smile.
Opening her mouth to speak, her pesky words escaped to the floor and refused to return. Shaking her head in a skittish “no” as her cheeks turned rosy, her eyes fell away from Belleza.
“Don’t look so down and gloomy my dear, it’s fine,” she laughed, turning the knob and opening the door. She’d never heard such a lovely laugh that sweetened her ears—not at all demeaning or with ill will like what she was used to, just a pleasant sound that made her want to nestle in its comfort. “Like I was saying, you can stay here for now.”
Letting out a muffled gasp, for the first time since they left the vehicle her hand slipped away from Belleza’s as she surveyed the bedroom practically sparkling in front of her.
“And just so you know, my bedroom is the second door down the right side of the hall—”
A large bed big enough for five her size was off to her left, and another door inside the bedroom was to her right. Sunlight flooded in from two arching windows straight ahead with two accompanying glass sliding doors in the center of them.
“My son, Arath, his room is the first door closest to you. He’s eight, slightly younger than you, I’d wager to guess—but I’d bet you two would get along splendidly.”
With mouth gaping open and eyes rounded, she walked uncertainly towards the glass doors. Placing her hand on the handle, she glanced back at Belleza with pursed lips and held her breath.
She smiled. “Go ahead.”
A cool ocean breeze blew through her messy fur and mane as the door slid back and she stepped out onto the small balcony. Water rumbling below her, a faint, crisp mist circulated in the air around them.
“Wow,” she breathed, squeezing her muzzle in between two of the golden bars and staring down at the powerful water splashing with swirling white foam.
A hand touched her shoulder, and glancing up, Belleza motioned her back inside. Sighing reluctantly, the two stepped back into the bright bedroom and she closed the door behind them.
“Sorry to pull you away from the view. I know it’s very beautiful,” Belleza apologized, clasping her hands behind her back. “But before we do anything else—I think it’s time you had a good, long, thorough bath.”
“Bath?!” she screeched, hugging herself tight instinctively. Glancing down at her dusty shirt and baggy jeans, she swallowed.
“I struggle to understand why you’d wear such warm and covering clothes in this weather, even in your circumstances,” she remarked and took her hand, leading her to the other door in the bedroom. “Not to worry. When I’m done with you, those clothes will be but a memory on a fish’s back in a tropical wind.”
Feet skidding backwards on the carpeted floor as she was urged along, her meager whine grew to a full on yelp once Belleza opened the door and ushered her into the spacious bathroom. A large tub clung to the corner of her vision as she struggled to flee.
“W-wait!” she gasped hurriedly, letting out a sigh of relief when Belleza stopped.
“I’m sorry, but this has to be done. You obviously haven’t touched a drop of water in weeks, besides for drinking, if even that. And—”
“Alone,” she mumbled, shifting from foot to foot as she twisted her worn out sleeve in her fingers. There was a thoughtful pause.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she responded promptly, raising her chin.
“Well—have it your way,” Belleza caved, dropping her hand. “Let me get the water started for you. I’ll be back in half an hour with some nice clothes. And if I catch you wearing those egregious garments again, it’s back in the bath you go,” she promised, bending down and twisting a glass knob. As a rush of steamy water began blasting out of the spicket, Belleza got to her feet and walked to the door. Pausing in the doorway and glancing back at her, she scratched her head. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
Biting her tongue and nodding her head almost immediately, she managed to manipulate her lips in what she hoped passed for an encouraging smile.
Miraculously it worked and she left, closing the door behind her. Feet feeling increasingly heavy as she turned back towards the tub awaiting her, she started inching towards the loud gurgle of hot water. Dragging her feet painfully slow, the loud hum of water taunted her racing heart. Mustering up the courage to peak into the tub as it continued filling with water, she glanced back at the bathroom door.
She had no other choice. And after Belleza realized her true nature, the outcome would be the same as it always was.
First, came the curiosity. They just want to understand what’s going on once they’ve discovered the truth, what’s wrong with her.
Second, the gradual increase in unease, culminating in confusion and mistrust. They think she’s lying—that she’s a witch, a sign of the end of time, or some other sort of evil being and not just a simple child that’s hungry like any other.
And third . . . the anger and abandonment. A rally against her had happened once before, and almost happened a second time. It didn’t matter how pleasant the viscet seemed at first, they’d turn, and see her as the freak she always saw herself as regardless of her efforts to hide it.
Turning to the sink and mirror to her side, she wasted no time in striding over and turning on the water. Grabbing the bar of soap and scrubbing vigorously, her breath caught. As a thick brown color washed down the sink, her reddish, dark purple fur was revealed mixed in with a more spotty light purple with a few fiery pink speckles. The dried grime that stuck to her fingertips was chipped away by the soapy suds, and within a good minute, her hands were as clean as she could manage for now.
Staring deep into her scruffy and untamed appearance in the large, wall to wall mirror, her vision blurred. Through the dirt on her face she used as a cloak, she could still make out her purple fur, only much duller. Snatching a hand towel from a basket on the table, it rapidly became dirty as she rubbed her eyes with it. Her eyelids began to sting as she raked back and forth hastily in an attempt to scrub her eyes clean as fast as she could. Gazing at her bright blue eyes, she winced. Placing a finger on her upper and lower eyelid, her hand shook as she raised it to her eye and pinched it from both corners. She held her breath, fingers slipping and grabbing at nothing. Forcing her eye to remain open as she tried again, she felt a release from her eye as she pulled out the white contact surrounding her iris. Quickly repeating the process, she had to blink a few times to subside the dry ache. Looking back at herself, she was greeted with her natural, dark gray irises where there was supposed to be white.

☀ ☀ ☀

She hadn’t eaten in almost two days.
Shifting slightly from her place by the railing, she became deathly still again. She’d hardly moved in the last fifteen hours.
The prospect of “being alone with one’s thoughts” was no longer some tranquil notion in which she could relax and reflect. No, instead it brought her the idea of uninterrupted mental and physical misery of which she could do absolutely nothing about.
No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking of their faces and the feelings she felt from yesterday. Arathorn, Murlé, Belleza. The rain that soaked her clothing and stuck to her skin, the silhouettes of dark planes swarming the sky lit with the crack of lightning. Enojado’s voice reverberating over the storm, her heart hardly able to keep up with her lungs—a warm liquid running under her bare feet. The way they looked with their eyes half rolled into the back of their heads.
It was a strange sensation, being utterly alone. Not just alone in the sense of having no one in the same room with her, but true loneliness, knowing that no one she loved would ever be coming through that door once she stopped wishing to be by herself—which was long ago.
Staring down at her bruised knuckles from attempting to practically bash in her bedroom door the day before, she exhaled out a long, drawn out and tired sigh.
The night had been the most unkind to her. After giving up breaking down the door once even hurling a chair made little difference, she had opted to sink onto her bed, and like a switch had been flipped, she was immediately unconscious. The next thing she knew, the room around her was pitch black, but she was wide awake. In the dark, her monsters came for her, and she chose to run away from them. So she fled for the balcony, swinging the door aside and staring back into the darkness with little to no moon to light her surrounds.
Fur rustling in the cold morning air with her head resting against the railing, her bones stung with an aching chill. Wrapping her arms around herself and drawing up her legs closer, a thick ocean mist engulfed her fur with tiny droplets suspended on the edge of her hairs. Heavy fog plaguing her view of the far out waters, she peeked down through the rails only to see a haze of white. Although it wasn’t visible, the water bellowed in her eardrums and rattled them to their core with its unrelenting frenzy of savage fury. It was raw and unbridled, like nothing she recalled before. Perhaps—even nature itself could mourn.
“‘Uk sawan’ my Pai—father, used to say to me.” The voice was deep and feminine, coming from behind and was heard easily above the water.
Clenching one hand on a rail as she twisted her head towards the sound, every drop of blood in her face drained in a single instant.
Her eyes were a bright yellow mixed with green, and where the white of a viscet’s eyes were, there was a startling dark gray—like hers. Sporting a lab coat that was close to blinding white, she wore long boots with her thick mane drawn back in a clean, tight bun.
“W—what?” Sunora barely managed to choke in surprise. There was nothing emanating from her that she could feel. And to her alarm, her limbs stuck in place and she was left staring up at this unknown Solanae as she stood looming above her like a shark.
“Translated to the viscets language, it roughly means “be stronger”—though it was usually in reference to the mind and not the physical body,” she admitted casually, her distinctively almond shaped eyes not bothering to look at her as she spoke. “I think about certain things those around me back then would say more and more as time goes on,” she mused, allowing every bittersweet word to soak in. Hands sliding into her coat pockets and glancing off into the distance, she stood with a stoic posture and showed no sign of acknowledging her with anything but her words. Sunora’s jaw tensed, hair on her back shooting on end. “Partly, I think—it is happening because we’re nearing the end of our plan—”
“You’re a—” she cut in but found her own voice trailing off.
Blood curdling as the woman knelt down to her eye level and stared her straight in the face, she suddenly seemed more real. Fur colored an entrancing green with strokes of dark red that almost completely covered her left eye, her cheeks were lined in a row of pointed feathers like Enojado’s and two short horns curling outwards near each ear.
“Solanae. Your rightful race, Sunora.” Deepening her gaze on Sunora as she slit her eyes, Sunora realized for the first time her peculiar coloration. Instead of bright yellow and green making up her irises like she had previously thought, it was like her eyes were on a “spectrum” and whenever they moved, the colors became more vivid or dim—somewhat like mother of pearl.
“What if I don’t care what’s rightful?” Feet springing to a stand and clutching her hands on the railing behind her, the Solanae made no movement and stayed in her place where she knelt without raising her head.
“Then you’ll parish with these primitives and will never know of your true potential,” she stated coolly. With the pressure in her chest increasing, Sunora refused to release her gaze from the Solanae as she rose.
“I don’t have to stand for this,” Sunora retorted with a shake of her head. The Solanae’s eyes burned with earnest.
“Honey, there’s no one to defend your silly honor or whatever you’re upset about anymore. So you’ll just have to stand it.” Leaning in close, she could feel her breath on her neck as Sunora’s eyes rounded. Her mind froze, head feeling light as she hissed biting words through her teeth aimed by her ear. “If you plan on living a day past this point, you’ll be a good little girl and not cause me any “inconvenient annoyances”. We’re so close to success I can taste it—” she paused, jutting out her finger and pressing it into Sunora’s chin and proceeding to creep it down her throat.
Holding her breath and cringing, she felt her spine digging against cold metal as she attempted to squeeze even a centimeter further from her.
Eyes bright with pink and violet hues as she raised her head, she added, “And if you think Enojado’s mild soft spot for you will save you from my wrath, you’re supremely mistaken.”
Swallowing as her jaw tensed, she finally felt her lungs expanding with air when the woman’s finger dropped from her skin. Turning away from Sunora without so much as a second glance, she strode for the exit, then stopped halfway there.
“Don’t tell Enojado I was ever here, or there’ll be hell to pay,” she promised, walking into Sunora’s bedroom and heading for the door as Sunora hastily followed after her.
“That’s it? You threaten me and then just leave?” Leaping in front of her, she halted.
“That’s correct, ghuk. Or do you crave more?” White teeth flashing with the snap of her green muzzle, Sunora held her ground.
“How many more of you are there that Enojado neglected to mention?” Sunora questioned with a low growl and flicked her tail. Wheeling past her in a move that made her head spin, she strode to the door. Placing a hand on the knob, the woman’s wrist began to turn as Sunora’s heart skipped a beat.
This could be her only chance.
“Take one more step and I’ll personally melt out your pathetic excuse of a Solanae mind and watch as it drips out through your pretty blue eyes.”
Hesitating, Sunora watched in shock as the Solanae glared back at her with a twisted expression she could only comprehend as something beyond a simple anger at her for wanting to escape, and instead her face was creased in an intense desire with even the slightest excuse to spark the bloodshed lighting up her vibrant eyes with shimmers of red.
Just run.
Hands damp with sweat as she momentarily clenched them into fists, her breath grew shallow with anticipation as the woman kept the door wide open for what felt like hours in the seconds just to taunt her further.
Run, you coward!
Hands relaxing, she let them fall meekly back to her sides as her head and shoulders sank. Eyes dropping to her feet, her body felt limp, and if the woman were to blow on her, she’d surely crumble into a thousand pieces. There was no point even trying, was there?
Glancing back at Sunora with a look of vague disappointment after standing in the doorway for another prolonged moment, she uttered the final blow before taking her leave.
“Good—learning your place.”
Door swinging closed as the last thing Sunora saw was a smile cutting deep into her features, the blaring silence that suddenly struck her in the face left her feeling like a shell—one who no longer walked upon the bridge of sanity, and instead had been unwillingly shoved into the dark depths of despair below as she struggled for a hand of hope to save her.
She blinked, standing there staring at the door covered in dents and thin cuts that had done scarcely more than ruin the paint. Yesterday after pounding on that door and taking a chair and hurling it with all her might until it broke, she had accomplished nothing more than a few meager scrapes.
Perhaps her only way out now was waiting for her back on the balcony. She couldn’t lie to herself that it hadn’t crossed her mind more than once when she was out there.
Spotting a mixture of bright colors reflecting out of the corner of her eye, she paused, glancing to her side at her chestnut brown dresser. Walking over with faltering steps, she bit her quivering lip, stopping a few feet from the dresser. Gaze deepening on the familiar object that had been laid half-mindedly there a few days prior, a sting in the back of her eyes rose to the surface. Glancing away for a moment and closing her eyes tight, she stayed still as a statue in thought. Returning her gaze to the shiny object with a welcoming glint of the reflecting light from the large window behind her, she took another hesitant step forward. Sliding her hand across the smooth wood surface before touching the antique necklace made of rectangular-shaped mother of pearl pieces connected on a chain, the rectangles were separated by small, delicate light gray pearls. Glowing warmly in the yellow light was the violet seashell hanging from the chain as its centerpiece. Scooping the necklace into her palm and cradling it close, she felt a sudden waterfall of tears staining her cheeks as her hands trembled.



His shy face flooded her mind of him as he held out a box to her that she took, unable to ignore the mischievous gawking of Murlé behind Arathorn as she opened the box and laid her eyes on the beautiful necklace from the antique shop. She remembered complimenting its beauty, and Arath’s simple response being:
“Then you have something in common with it.”
And although she pretended not to look his way at that moment, she couldn’t help a tiny peek to revel in the blush that sneaked across his already rosy cheeks while Murlé playfully taunted the two of them in the background.
If only they had stayed in that small village away from the city for longer. So much could have gone differently, and maybe she wouldn’t be where she was now.
But she was here.
Grip tightening on the necklace, her gaze gravitated back to the door. Holding the necklace by both ends and clasping it behind her neck, she straightened.
When Enojado came back, she’d be ready. Not to fight him—no. That could wait. If she really wanted to avenge her friends, she’d have to do it right. Whatever these Solanae were planning, she’d find a way to stop it. Because perhaps the key wasn’t to try and break down the door, but to have it unlocked for her.

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Sorry this chapter took so long, but I'm happy with it nonetheless!

[Ranger of the North]

I haven't been on Chicken Smoothie for a long, long time, but now that I'm here I've read the last chapter and want to let you know that I'm still here for it lol. If you continue hurting my babies I will hurt u