Hagintha Woods

“Did you hear?”

Gradually returning from her drug induced haze, Melita processed the conversational tone before decoding the words. Cracking open an eye, she scrutinised the man lying next to her on her spot on her rug. She debated whether she had the right to roll him off.

Probably not.

The dilapidated warehouse she’d made her temporary lodging was home to all kinds, from runaways to criminals, and that sort of behaviour would get her in the owner’s bad books. Again.

The man was a young one, in his mid-twenties with a fresh look in his eye. Probably a runaway then, or a particularly adventurous traveler. He chattered away, not seeming to need an answer to continue. He was probably expecting her to ignore him, which spoke of either experience in these kinds of places, or that she’d been out for a while. Still, her high was ebbing, so a conversation wouldn’t hurt.

“What?” It was as good a starter as any, especially since she didn’t remember the question.

“Oh.” He looked down at her, a lock of curly brown hair falling into his eyes. “You’re alive.”

Rude.

“You know how the Underground has been searching homes around the country?” He continued, unfazed by her silence. “Apparently they’re moving on to the back streets now. There’s talk that they might make a move on this place soon.”

“Why?” Turning her head, she stared at the ceiling, looking at the way the grains and markings on the wood seemed to sway and blend into each other. “There’s nothing to find here.”

The boy chuckled. He propped himself up on an elbow, his other hand holding out another pill of Map in front of her face to try and regain her attention, his voice taking on a sultry tone. “There’s you.”

Though he couldn’t have known it, he hit the nail right on the head. Melita couldn’t stop the amusement that bubbled out her chest. If he was a runaway, he would have to hide his motives a little better if he was going to last long.

Melita looked him up and down, considering. He was tall, with a lean, muscled body and a cheeky attitude. Younger than most of the people that tried their luck, but it wasn’t like she was busy. Parting her lips, she let him drop the pill in, her tongue darting across the tip of his thumb as a reward, before swallowing. “I suppose. Nice figure. Do you train a lot?”

Leaning back to stare at said thumb, the man oozed with satisfaction. “Basic calisthenics. I’m thinking about picking up a martial art, but I don’t know if it’ll be any use in a real fight.”

“Yes and no.” At her reply, the boy broke out of his ramble, staring at her with a mixture of shock and curiosity. Apparently, shutting him up was possible. Unfortunately for him, she didn’t feel like elaborating. “It will help, but a struggle is fundamentally different from a match.”

“You’ve fought before? How much experience do you have? What did you do?”

“Not really.” Melita grimaced, shrinking back to give herself some distance from his enthusiasm. “I was never very good.”

Undeterred, he leaned in, closing the distance. “Do you know Leon? Leon Kinley? The champion?”

The sharpest grey eyes that always found her, no matter where she hid. A militant buzzcut. A muscled body, curling round the sword twisted deep within his gut. His bloody hands clutching hers, pressing the boar insignia into her palms. Leon the Firm, Regimented Murder. How could she not know him?

This was making her lose the mood. Melita closed her eyes. “No.”

“She does.” The accusatory voice was a balm to her ears. Reclining against the wall, Teresa sat on a wooden box next to her, looking the same as always, half her head shaved, in a leather jacket and combat boots. Melita had always thought that Teresa would be one of the first few captured, with the distinctive figure she cut.

Said delinquent used a hand to shove one of her jacket sleeves up her arm, before leaning down to poke Melita in the cheek. “She’s just a terrible human being.”

“I’ve never been good with names.” Melita retorted, though she didn’t bother suppressing the smile that burst forth whenever the other was around. Catching Teresa’s hand in hers, Melita wound their fingers together, before pressing a kiss unto the back of the other’s hand. “But I’m great with features.”

Teresa stilled, her eyebrows coming even closer together, the intensity in her eyes shifting from annoyance to something deeper. She always looked like she was angry, even when she was younger, but her eyes never held indifference. At least, not with Melita. And that had saved her.

“Is she your friend?” The man asked, now obviously entertaining more than a few fantasies.

Melita let him wait, her lips trailing over Teresa’s skin, gently nibbling at a bruised knuckle-she’d gotten herself in a fight again. “Take a guess.”

The words knocking the other girl out her trance, Teresa cleared her throat forcefully. “They’re coming.”

“Everyone knows.” Melita said, sitting up. If she could hear it from young boys like one beside her, it was because the Underground felt like there was no more reason to hide.

“No worries, they’re not the law, so they wouldn’t catch us just for pills and alcohol.” The man said, a laughable attempt to push himself into a conversation topic that had long shifted.

In a wonderful show of flexibility, Teresa got off the box and sat beside Melita, all without releasing her hand. Her voice was rough, whispered too low for the boy to hear. “Do you think you can survive?”

“No.” Melita hummed flippantly, giving Teresa’s hand a squeeze. After a thought, she patted the boy’s curls with her other hand so he wouldn’t feel too left out. It was wondrously soft to the touch. “But that’s why I called you.”

She didn’t have to look at Teresa to feel the other girl’s consternation. “You’re so selfish.”

“But you still came.” Melita looked over with an easy smile, but Teresa was looking away, jaw clenched tight with stress.

She definitely thought that Melita had called her here to their death. And yet, she couldn’t let go, would still come despite the death sentence. Some part of Melita wanted to chastise the other girl, but at the same time, her actions made it hard for Melita to do anything but love her.

Luckily, she wasn’t quite the idiot Teresa was.

Leaning forward, Melita pressed her lips ever so gently against that tight jaw, shifting as she clambered into the other’s lap. At her coaxing, Teresa turned toward her once more, and as their lips locked, Melita smiled, slipping the insignia into the deeper confines of one of Teresa’s many pockets.

The insignia, when absorbed by a person in the respective branch, would confer the ability to shapeshift into its’ animal, amongst other characteristics.

It would be Teresa’s to protect and use now.

Pulling her magic deep from her being, Melita channeled it toward Teresa, having the magic flow towards the other girl, her other hand now coming up to cup her neck and pull her close.

Though Teresa was hers and she’d personally guided her, the other girl had never been great with magic. With her focus on physicality and her serious nature, it would have been more understandable if she’d been under Leon, the star pupil, more than her, the black sheep -boar?- of their branch. For what was coming, Melita would give Teresa all the help she could get.

When Teresa felt the touch of magic in the air, she’d stilled in confusion, but after a few seconds had passed, she let out a gasp, before shoving Melita off.

Melita stuck out a hand to catch her fall, but then the floor was coming toward her, and the impact jolted her bones. A miscalculation? Maybe the pill from earlier was kicking in.

Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, Melita let out a tut of annoyance. She’d only managed to transfer about half of her reserves, and given how bad Teresa was at the arcane, that wasn’t nearly enough to guarantee her survival.

Still, that would have to do. Teresa probably wouldn’t let Melita anywhere close now.

Teresa’s face started to swim before her eyes, multiplying and merging together, but all of them had the same mix of anger, confusion and hurt. Melita could only shrug, cocking a finger to beckon her closer. Maybe she could wheedle the other close enough to force the rest of her own magic to the other.

A loud blast sounded from the warehouse door.

Melita looked over, her heart thudding loudly against her ribcage, drowning out the screams. Everything was starting to go a little hazy, courtesy of the drug.

As a Boar Liviae, Melita had a stronger physical body and constitution than any normal human, able to stomach most things. The only time she was under a substance’s influence was if she wanted to be.

Letting her magic run through her system, Melita let out a sigh as her vision began to stabilize. What a waste of a good pill.

Teresa was gone. Did she get out? Concentrating on her own magic signature, Melita sensed a part of her growing further and further away. She smiled. Good girl.

She just needed to buy some time.