Famous Last Words: WHO

The room was dark. She couldn't tell apart the shadows and the stains. She could hear small sounds, house sounds, over the shouting of unfamiliar voices, the hard percussive thump of fists on a table, Victor's unhurried drawl. Just the thought of that man brought her a smile and a strange tightness deep in her gut. Was this what it was like to be nervous? It'd been so long.

The sounds of the building kept her focused, though her leg still twitched from time to time, her fingers still beating out a uneven staccato on the warped wooden surface. There was something dripping in the corner, a live thing under the floorboards. She fancied she could hear the water-starved cries of the drywall as it cracked.

It moldered; it died a slow, audible death. It was where they kept her. Trapped.

She ached to run, to fight and fuck and kill and laugh until she died--no matter how long it took--so she didn't have to think. But she made a promise. It wasn't part of the script. She owed it to him, he who'd given her just the tiniest glimmer of hope, both to sit here and to keep her hand away from the one thing she still kept in her pocket that she knew would bring relief.

She didn't do that anymore, because of him. It had been days, not many days but days, and she still, and it was...

The door banged open. Flakes of white fell to the floor from where it hit the wall and rebounded, where it almost bounced back hard enough to hit the woman who'd flung it open, who'd stepped through, but she was a professional; she walked through elegantly enough, with a fast and purposeful stride, that the door clicked neatly back into its frame.

The woman took a few seconds, as if waiting for some cue Maya couldn't see, then turned--locks of red hair falling down over her eyes--and asked the question.

Maya cocked her head to the side, reaching up with manacled hands--still clutching a gaudy sparkled wand--to twitch aside, peer out from underneath her sunglasses. They were useless in here, of course, and she'd take them off if only they didn't go so nicely with the suit. It was too bad they'd ripped her wings.

"I'm the Tooth Fairy. Why, you looking to make a quick buck?" She giggled, like she was having the time of her life, but sobered quickly. "Oh, you want a real answer, don't you? You want me to tell you the truth." For a minute it seemed like she was really thinking about it. She furrowed her brow, her tongue probing the inside of her cheek.
 

"The most accurate map is the city. The most honest answer is me. Look." She drew herself up from the chair, out into the room with one smooth motion. "Pay attention." She walked like she was on a stage. She posed, she spun and danced, though in reality she only moved forward a couple of steps. It was majestic, just revealing enough to keep most still looking for more. She was even unbuttoning her shirt before some unspoken signal caused her to stop, face-to-face with her captor.

"Satisfied?" She leaned in, and it was almost intimate. "No?"

It was a hiss, it was a whisper.

"Too bad."

Words: 561
GP: 11

It was so fascinating just to watch the fairy girl raise and move around, smiling like it was Christmas. And for a moment, just for the fraction of a second, Amaya forgot she was even doing an investigation. And in that moment, her serious face melted into a more relaxed one, content to simply watch and listen as the girl spoke. She tilted her head and even smiled a little as the "Tooth Fairy" came to a stop and pivoted to face her. Now completely serious and without the graceful movements, the Tooth Fairy retorted with a venomous snap, even leaning in a bit to accent her displeasure.

But despite the clear anger towards her, Amaya clapped a few times and smiled at the fair. "Encore," she cooed under her breath. Then she remembered she was supposed to be professional. Her once again icy stare snapped to the two Shinigami who seemed a bit more alert now and she motioned to the door. It took the bother of them a moment to gather themselves and realize what was being told, but eventually they clambered out of the room, leaving the fairy and the imposter alone in the moldy, stinky room.

"Well, Miss Fairy," she said without the slightest hint of sarcasm. "You definitely have my attention now." She decided to stay in her original position, not feeling the need to test the strength of the floors anymore than she had to. "I suppose you'll give me fake names for the other people, too?" Her tone made forced the sentence into another question, giving the girl the chance to answer if she chose. After all, that would be a great way to catch them in a lie, Amaya figured. If they hadn't come up with fake names as a group, then obviously the names wouldn't match. Either the girl could lie with a fake name, or be useful. Or maybe ignore it all together. Not like the question would really further anything in the true investigation.

She reached up to slide a stray piece of hair behind her ear then straightened her clothes. What could she ask next? She wasn't exactly cut out to be an interrogator as neither talking nor the reading of body language were her strong suits. Hopefully she could just BS her way through this entire situation then sneak off unannounced. "On to more serious questions," she paused for a tick. "Are you doing this for anyone, or was it just a couple of bored people wanting to stir up trouble?" Naturally, her money was on the latter.

[431. 8 GP]

[15 GP]

Before the words had even left her mouth, she knew the pain was coming. She was used to this. It was what they'd done so many times when she didn't do what they asked, back when she still had a heart. They taught her with pain, with sorrow and need, but apathy won in the end. It always did. The pain would fade. The scars would heal. It would hurt, but it would pass, like everything else in the world but the one thing she craved.

It was a familiar kind of suffering.

It was almost like a friend.

So when there was nothing, when its absence hit her harder than any blow ever would, her world skewed. There was a sound, and, and a smile? A kind word (and since when were words ever kind)? This was not, this was not, right. This was not how insolence was punished. This was not what she had earned.

She was waiting for the pain.

What were the smiles for?

Questions came after--not quick, not punctuated with a knife, but casual, almost polite. Like she was real. Like she was someone with thoughts, with feelings and desires instead of flesh to be used, a means to an end, a lock to which pain was the key. It felt wrong, to be treated this human... but good. She'd answer their questions. It was the least she could do.

"What other people?"

She never said she'd tell the truth.

"For me. It's all for me. Everything, all of this, every last little detail boils down... to me."

She never said she'd lie.
 
Words: 268
GP: 5 (16)

She frowned at the obvious dislike directed at her. Was the Tooth Fairy truly upset that she didn't get a harsh interrogator? It couldn't be helped, and even if Amaya was told to, she couldn't be harsh. Sharp words only came in the sake of honesty, and in this situation, her honest was directed towards her own amusement. She didn't honestly care what the pranksters had done--if fact, she was more or less cheering them on.

'Why don't you let me handle this one? You and I both know I'm better with words,' Aya perked up within the darkness of Amaya's mind perhaps a bit too quickly. The girl that represented Amaya's release was psychotic. Truly driven by insane lusts and desires and completely engulfed in her hollowish pride. Sure, Aya had been a little bending towards Amaya's goals, but not with the right mindset.

'You would blow our cover,' Amaya chidded. After a few grumbles of protest, Aya quieted herself and went away whatever it was she did when she wasn't talking. And in this silence, Amaya readied her next question. Well, until she was interrupted by the opening of the door. She turned to face the guard and raised a questioning eyebrow, though judging by the way he quickly looked away and stumbled over himself, Amaya might have given him too harsh of a glare. "Well?" She asked impatiently when he didn't say anything.

"Hiro, he uh, he wanted you to also talk to this lass, and, uh well, I know that's not the best, uh, thing and stuff, I just..." 

Amaya sighed then smiled. "It's okay. Bring her in I suppose." While he gathered the other girl, Amaya looked back at her first suspect. "What other's, huh?" She chuckled at the ironic timing of the events then shook her head. "See? This is what happens when you lie. Ironic events like this one happens." Just as she finished speaking, the second person was ushered in, followed by the door locking behind her. So, it was only natural that Amaya throw a question towards that person as well. 

"Well, who are you?"

[356. 5 GP]

[20 GP]

'But, my lovelies! I want to stay with you! Don't send me aw-,'

A girl stumbled into the room, her hair flowing behind her as the guard pushed her in with too much force.

'-ay! You know you love me! I know you do! Oh, my Prince Charming! Come back to me!,' the girl carried on shouting as the brightly flushed man slammed the door.

Not as fast as he would've liked.

Whimpering, the girl turned to face the rest of the room, her expression portraying how crestfallen she was feeling along with the heartbroken look teenagers have in their eyes when their boyfriends dump their sorry asses.

However, the look didn't last as her gaze landed on the other two beings in the room.

'Well, hellooo there. Are you my Princess Charming?,' the girl asked as she practically pranced across the room and held her hand out at the woman she didn't recognize. And the girl stood there, with the back of her hand outstretched towards the seated woman for a "proper greeting". A quick glance, hidden to the interrogator by a curtain of gold and silver, was sent to confirm the identity of the other presence as the woman who'd been separated from the main group first.

Aisha couldn't recall her name but knew her to be Victor's friend.

Miss Pretty-pants, Aisha had nicknamed the woman.

Dropping her hands, the teen lifted herself up and took a seat on the table, only to lie down and look towards Maya. Her elbows propped up on the table and her chin resting in her hands, the girl directed her attention towards the fellow blonde in the room.

'Oh, what pretty hair you have. Oh, oh, ohhh, what pretty eyes you have! Oh, I know, I know! Hello, my fairy godmother! Can you make me all pretty and stuff now? Give my Princess Charming a tiara too! Yes, that's a splendid idea!'

Ignoring the two of them, Aisha rambled on to herself, planning the whole wedding if one cared enough to listen. Then out of nowhere, the girl sat up abruptly, trapping the interrogator's chin between her thumb and index, tilting the woman's face towards her, all the while beaming in satisfaction.

'The bride and groom may now kiss!'
 

~~~

Word Count || 378
GP || 7

These people really were something that Amaya could desire. She had never been in an interrogation, but she could only assume they never went quite like this. Tooth Fairies and forlorn princesses? Hell yes. Even if Amaya was strictly straight (the only exception being for Tori), she couldn't help but enjoy this probably a bit too much. So it was no wonder that she had broken out into a wide smile and even had let her eyes fully take in the new princess. This was going to be one hell of an interview.

She leaned back, letting her back press against the wall and a few locks of her now red hair fall over her shoulders. The princess, completely content to ignore any questions or words thrown at her, laid sprawled out on the table, rambling on and on about weddings and tiaras. Not that Amaya could complain. Sure, she needed to ask a few questions and play the role, but that clearly wasn't going to happen so long as these two wanted to live in their little fairy tale. And that was why well before the princess stood, Amaya had decided to play along and milk this for what it was worth. 

That was why she did not look startled or pulled away when the princess closed any space between them. And that was why, without a moment of hesitation, she kissed the teenager and returned her smile. Not a heated kiss by any means, but more closer to just a peck on the lips. Though, Amaya was known to be quite the kisser...  She pulled her head back and just to add to the moment, she licked her lips, smiling brightly. "Now that we're married, do I get to know what my new last name is?"

[304. 6 GP]

[26 GP]

Giggling as the youth put her arms around her princess's neck, Aisha clung happily to her new bride. When the woman asked for her new last name, the girl obliged without giving it a second thought. 'Oh, yes, my dear. Of course. Your last name is now Zarbig. That's spelt Z - A - R - B - I - G. Zarbig. You got that my lovely?' Tilting her head this way and that as she hung on, the girl babbled a bit more. 'I gotta say though. My last name goes splendid with my first name. Shall I tell you what that is too, my precious Princess?'

The girl showed no signs of amusement only sincerity.

Even as her full name left her lips.

'Mahboobeh Zarbig. Pleased to have married you, gorgeous,' the girl introduced herself as she detached from the interrogator lady only to stand up on the table and curtsy. 'Well, that would be Princess Mahboobeh Zarbig, but you may call me Mahboobeh because you're my Princess.' Twirling in small circles on the table, the girl did random arm movements that kept her in balance - only just enough to keep her from falling off it, but still enough.

All of a sudden, Aisha halted mid-movement, a mischievous look on her face that let the other two in the room know the eccentric little teen had come up with a so called "brilliant" scheme.

Plopping down on the table, the girl turned towards her fairy godmother with eager eyes. 'Hey, hey, Fairy Godmother? Can you do magic things and make my bride here into one of my little toes? Could you? Could you, pleeease?' The girl pleaded with utmost seriousness, lying flat on her front on the desk and putting her palms together as the girl peered into the woman's blue eyes.

'I mean, c'mon,' the girl jumped up, rushing towards her bride and grabbing the woman's shoulder's and shaking her slightly, clearly thrilled about her newest idea. 'I would really like to bang you on every piece of furniture, my beautiful bride. So it's a win-win situation!'
 

~~~

Word Count || 351
GP || 7 / 14

For just a moment, underneath sunglasses and scarlet paint-flecked strands of hair--because of course she'd gotten highlights, how could anyone be expected to pull a heist without highlights?--her exquisite brow furrowed. She'd... she'd screwed up, hadn't she? Already.

Fuck.

She knew what needed to be done. It wasn't hard--there was a story to tell, a role to play, and it was important, more than anything else it was important. Before, there'd only been solid certainty, a pure belief in herself--not belief but knowledge that nothing could stop her, that she was as good as they came--no, better. She remembered laughing at the idea of being afraid. It was like something in a language that she didn't speak, like a color she couldn't see. It happened to other people.

It didn't happen to her.

She knew what this was, she knew what it meant even if none of the others did, even if that fast-talking two--or three? --faced man thought he did. She'd tried to remember that. She'd tried to be strong, for him, for her, but sitting here in the run-down room that felt sickeningly like home, of the time before the time that she could bear, it was all falling apart.

So that meant it was time to forget.

It's not hard for her to stop being human, not really, not in the way we mean it. All she has to do is stop trying so hard. All she has to do is stop caring what people think, stop caring what happens next; to her, to anything, it doesn't matter. All she has to do is anything she wants.

First, the princess needs a crown.

Under her hair, under the hat--the dapper hat, Victor wouldn't leave the store without it, even after the poor man had tried to close three times, even after the siren lights outside were brighter than the long-set sun--something itched. She started to reach up surreptitiously, to scratch--the nice lady asking the questions still thought she was wearing handcuffs, after all--wondering if she'd maybe left a mouse up there or something when her fingers encountered--well, she didn't know what the hell it was. It wasn't gold. It might not even have been plastic. But it made her smile.

She whipped it off her head, almost-but-not-quite sending the hat flying, and sprung out of her chair and over to the blushing bride in one single triumphant motion.

"We need one of these for a wedding, don't we? Crowning the groom, killing the bride, kissing the king, it's all the same, really, isn't it?" She backed up a little, but not far enough; for some, it was never far enough. "Wear your crown with pride, girl. Be my psycho queen." She took another step back, but her arm brushed the side of a person she'd almost forgotten was there; she jumped with a start.

"Oh, Ai--Mah--sh--" She rolled her eyes at the girl. "Blondie. I didn't know you were here too! Tell me, did you do it all like I said, like a good little girl? The man of your dreams'll know just where to find you if you left your panties--" She snuck a glance at the other woman--the betrothed--and stifled a giggle. "Slippers," she corrected herself, slightly louder, "behind."

"Ah, what's your name, anyway, sweet thing? It's gonna get a little weird if I have to keep calling you 'Ladykiller', don't you think? I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my client here. I didn't know Q... Qu... dammit, what are you called again, Blondie?" She turned and looked imploringly at the darling groom for a moment before turning back and smiling sweetly "...that pretty German murderthings counted as people." She moved to the blonde girl, draping herself over her, possessively trailing fingertips down her sweet innocent cheeks.

"I admit, I moonlight. Braces really cut into my income, y'know? I dunno if they hand out special tools in your gig, but I'm just fucked if my nice bit of enamel is trapped between wires and metal. So, y'know, now and then, I help a girl out. No one really wants to find pumpkins these days, but," she lowered her voice conspiratorially, "to lose cherries, well, that's another matter, wouldn't you say?" She looked back at her interrogator in a way that was supposed to ooze companionship, as if bonding over some shared moment. It mostly looked deranged.

"Some of them are a little shocked when uh, it, doesn't grow back after midnight, but that's what you get when you don't read the fine print. Or it would be if I wrote contracts, and seriously, who has time for that?" She threw back her head and laughed, but paused abruptly, growing pensive.

"Hey, murderthing, you're still good for the fee, right? It was seven." Her gaze flicked back to her crownéd queen. "Teeth, that is." For some reason, the woman looked shocked. "It's okay! They don't have to be hers!"

She walked deliberately, inexorably, like the distance was a thing her form consumed, and ended staring into the eyes of her captor. The woman who trapped her here, who dared to keep her here. It was important, so very, very important--she just wasn't sure if she remembered why.

Hot breath brushed against smooth skin as she opened her mouth again. "I'm sorry," she said, softly, shyly, "I kind of lied to you before. It's just a profession. My name, my name, is Maya." She looked closer, ever closer, until all she could see were swirls of green and blue, until all she could do was whisper, "I can taste the hollow behind your eyes." She skipped back, laughing, dancing, feeling nothing but the now.

"We're gonna be great friends, aren't we?"

Words: 959
GP: 19 (35)

As fun as this situation was--and oh boy was it fun--Amaya was making literally no progress in anything, unless you count getting married. Hopefully Tova wouldn't mind too much, but to fair, 'Mahboobeh' technically married whoever the person Amaya was pretending to be was. Technicalities made things easier, she supposed. But nevertheless, the two women were a bit too caught up in their own game to even really care. She probably should have thought things through before coming here, she realized as her 'bride' danced and twirled on the desk then sprang back over to grin about banging all night long. 

While 'Mahboobeh' was quite the interesting girl to watch and... play with... Miss Tooth Fairy seemed to have grown somber for some reason. Perhaps because she had been caught in a lie? Perhaps she wasn't cut out to play the role she was given either. For some reason that brought a bit of comfort to Amaya. Even as Ms. Fairy continued to ramble on and on, spewing dental puns like they were candy on Halloween, Amaya had already seen her falter, and not just once. She had seen that moment where her eyes had flashed a different shade. She had caught onto the stumbling of words. While Amaya was a terrible interrogator, she was good at picking up the details. Maybe she would consider some training in this field. 

But once again that facade was up and Tooth Fairy came stalking towards her. She was saying something, but Amaya had all since tuned her out. After all, there was a distinct taste in the air now. A sharp flare of... Something. Something in one of the other rooms and it felt.... Familiar? No, that wasn't the right word. It was something to be investigated and with that in mind, all interest in the two girls was lost. 

Well, until the Tooth Fairy was in her face, whispering of what she knew. Amaya's stare did not falter, her stance did not change, and that amused grin didn't fade. She, after all, was far better at hiding her emotions it seemed. In fact, she felt a little bit more relieved if anything, not nearly as paranoid. She strolled across the room, watching the girls as they danced about, talking about this and that and whatever. Casually, Amaya ran her fingers over the radio that lay in the corner of the decrepit room. "We'll be the best of friends," Amaya finally replied to the newly announced Maya as she looked up from the radio and at the girls. "Who wants to listen to some music?"

[433. 8 GP]

[34 GP]

"You're not... right, are you?"

She knew how people reacted to her, and this girl kept... slipping. Where there should be a spark of... of anything, of anger, of happiness, of sorrow, of bliss, there were just cold coals. It was like there was a screen between them, like the girl was just saying what she should say, not what she felt.

Everyone should feel, shouldn't they?

Everyone should know what it is to lose themselves, to be alight and alive in that fire of passion, to hate like nothing else in the world matters but tearing the world apart with fingernails. To throw away restraint. To be more than perfectly manicured ice.

But she could help.

There's a solution to everything.

If not words, then chemicals.

If not Paris, Berlin.

She fished it out of her pocket. It was new, this one. They'd wanted her to spread it around. Just a tiny little piece of paper, that meant so so so much more.

"It's okay. I can fix it." She grinned and moved closer, looking not predatory, not delirious or deranged, but, for the first and only time, kind. "I've got a present for you." Closer, now. Even closer. "Open wide."

She exploded into motion, shoving the dose between pointed teeth, holding the jaw firm for a few seconds, before the guards slammed her against the mirrored wall, for long enough for the girl's saliva to mingle, for the deed to be done.

Her hat came off, tumbled to the floor from the impact but she caught it and gaped at the horror it had wreaked upon her poor innocent scalp; hair was sticking up in directions that didn't even make sense and by reflex she pulsed her soul and pushed life along the felt brim as it brushed against her fingertips. It split apart and grew limbs that gripped onto her shirt, monkey-shimmied and vaulted, reached her head, keening. Only when it began to groom her back into some semblance of style did the true magnitude of what she had done sink in.

She gaped helplessly.

She ignored the guards as they yelled at her; first in anger, then in fear.

She started crying, and ignored them as they tried to cause her pain.

She sucked in air, and knew that she had to face facts. She had to accept her punishment, whatever it may be.

"VIIIIIIIIIIIIICCCCCCCCCCC!!! I BROKE MY HAT!"

Words: 405
GP: 8 (43)

The girl clapped her hands together, the eagerness of telling her story of the night glimming in her eyes.

'Oh, oh, you wouldn't believe it!' The girl started, laying the back of her hand dramatically over her forehead, as if exasperated of the tale to come. 'I left it right there. You see, right on. His. Head. But,' the girl stopped her eyes brimming and shiny with unshed tears. 'But, but, but - he didn't need me once he had it. I think we should've left behind something that wasn't such a. . .a. . .a fap material, you know.'

A tear slid down the girl's cheek.

Followed by many, many others.

Sobbing softly, the girl went to her bride and clung to the woman, trying to find some kind of comfort. When her fairy godmother mentioned the fee, the girl sniffed and looked up towards the fellow blonde's direction, momentarily distracted from getting comforted by her wife. Not spying any tissues around the room, the girl wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, grateful for little things such as the waterproof mascara and eyeliner she had applied before this little "escapade" when no black smudges were found on her hand.

Make up were said to have an immense difference to a woman's looks.

Maybe it made her seem different without it all.

In all honesty, she looked the same when she last checked in the mirror.

But one never knew.

Scoffing unladylike at her fairy godmother, the girl looked indignant. 'Of course I remember the fee. I left it under the pillow on your doorstep.' Distracted again, the girl shuffled closer to her bride and when she had found a comfortable position, began humming a song she didn't remember listening to.

She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Maybe it was a sign that she had talent in the field.

When Maya started to cry and scream loudly, the girl joined in. The latter that is, she'd done enough crying for the day.

'Mister stranger! Guess what! I got married to a beautiful bride. I'LL BE EXPECTING A WEDDING PRESENT SOON!'
 

~~~

Word Count || 356
GP || 7 / 21

Before another word could slip by her lips, Amaya's "bride" fell into her arms in a crying mess, complete with tears and snot. Out of reflex, Amaya patted the girl on her back and smoothed her hair, though did nothing to suppress her confused stare. Fap material? What did that even mean? This had been fun at first--there was no denying the fact that Amaya was having a blast with these Humans--but right now it was getting a little old. Also, if she didn't actually get any information out of them soon the Shinigami would suspect things. After all, she was supposed to be some great interrogator or whatever. So far she was doing rather poorly.

Her increasingly serious stare turned towards Maya--formerly known of the Tooth Fairy--when the woman dressed for her role started casually strolling on over, mumbling to herself. Amaya wasn't really listening at this point, not with her bride all fussy and whimpering in her ear. The girl clung to Amaya's arm tighter as Maya slipped up closer. Under normal circumstances, this would have put her on high alert. She really hated being trapped down, especially when her only company were people who were a little off their rockers. But even if her reflexes would have kicked in, the sheer shock of Maya on top of her would have caught her off guard anyway. So it went without saying that she hardly put up a struggle. 

Then things started to hit her hard. It was rather quick, actually, considering her body had never before had to deal with the effects of any kind of drugs. The closest thing to drugs she had ever had in her veins was some pain killers after her tussle with Garra, but even those were nothing compared to this. First she laughed when she saw the guards slam Maya into the wall. A light giggle that formed into a loud, uncontrollable laughter that nearly brought tears to her eyes. Through her giggles and gasps for air, she motioned for the guards to take away the woman. "G-Get her out'ta h-here..." She gasped, rubbing away her tears as chuckles still assaulted her. 

And then she went serious. Shoving her bride to the side, she grabbed the guard's arm just as he started to escort the woman out. She glared at him, searching his eyes. Where was he going to take her? That damned Shinigami would probably do horrible things to her. Her stare morphed into a glare as she pried his hand off the woman's arm and wrapped her own arm around Maya. "I'll do it. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you." Her fingers tightened on the woman's shoulder and with a gentle shove walked them both out into the hallway. With the twist of her wrist, she spun around the woman, stared into her eyes, shoved her back, then went back into the room, slamming the door.

What the fuck was she doing here? Completely unabashed by her bride still being in the room, Amaya snaked her fingers through her hair and backed up against the wall. She felt awful. No, not awful. Scared? Why was she scared? Probably because she just blew her cover. And now hoards of Shinigami would be after her and she couldn't do a damn thing in this gigai. She could change out of it, but that always took the wind out of her. They would catch her while she was still stunned. She slid down the wall and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her forehead on her knees.

"I'm going to die now, aren't I?"

[607. 12 GP]

[46 GP]

There's always that moment, y'know?

Everything's great. You're having a blast. You're laughing and everyone else is laughing and you do something else and everyone laughs even more, it feels great and then there's something out of place. You think you can ignore it but you can't. The pit in your stomach yawns and everything is wrong and you want to do something but you can't, because it's too late.

No one's having fun anymore.

She realized it when the girl's grip grew tighter; when she, the madwoman Maya made, showed her strength. Sharp fingernails didn't break her skin, but only just. They bruised her flesh. They made her feel something.

She didn't fear for herself. There was nothing anyone could do that would hurt her, not ever again--until now, a voice whispered. Until you let him in--but she wasn't alone. The sparkling blonde girl who'd danced with her, who'd matched her candy-coated smile, had so much to learn about pain. There were still scarier monsters out there than her little German death machine, and she'd just let this one slip its leash.

So when that hand ground her bones together and pushed her out the door, she tried to fight. She held back the yelp of pain, tried words--"No! Wait!"--grabbed onto the frame of the door and almost poured herself into it before a cold blast of sanity stopped her, letting her know that if she made the walls or the floor get up and fight for her it would probably bring the whole god damn building down.

So when the girl pushed her out into the hallway and stared into her eyes, she was meek. It was safe when she was out here. If the girl wanted to hurt her, that was okay. She could take it. As long as it was here, as long as everyone else was safe. The happiness had turned to rage and the rage...

Went away?

The door slammed in her face.

She waited, waited for something to change. The guards didn't know where to take her. She didn't know what to do.

She heard crying.

"Fuck this."

She took a step forward and their hands rose to stop her and every inch of her yearned to cackle as the power from poured from her and things rose up--from the floor, from the wall, from her heart, birds and bees and bears, all of them in one--but there were better ways.

She could slay them with a smile.

"You guys came from the party, right?"

They nodded nervously. One of them still held a paper plate full of the remnants of sauce, the absence of canapés.

"Did you hear about what happened upstairs?"

One of them looked at her a little more closely, like a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. He shook his head, reluctantly. He wasn't sure if he should be engaging her at all, but... what had happened? He'd run out when he heard the screaming.

The other one jumped in fear. The plate fluttered to the floor. Drying red sauce added to its dirt. He'd been there.

"You saw it, didn't you...?" Her voice grew intimate, teasing. She had eyes only for him. "I did that."

He started shaking. His mouth opened and closed but nothing came out.

"I could do it to you."

He stood there frozen, agape, showing the whites of his eyes. The other one shouted, reached to shove her, but his friend stopped him with a barely-whispered word. They stood there, for a moment, in a frozen tableau; locked in arrogance, confusion, and fear, until she broke it.

"So fuck off, then! Before I do!"

They ran and she smiled that crazy smile of hers until they couldn't see, but behind that mask she was terrified. Not for herself, never for herself, but the crying stopped and she couldn't hear anything and that silence could hold anything at all.

Her hand pushed against the door, jiggled the knob as that fear ate at her heart and swore and sent out a pulse of power and pushed again after the knob slithered down into a metal thing that crawled across the floor. It swung open and relief just about floored her. She locked eyes with her favorite little princess and jerked her head toward the door, mouthed 'get out' and made sure she knew she meant it. But the other one, the one curled up on the floor...

The echoing shout through the walls came at just the right time.

"No," she said just loudly enough for him to hear. "No, Vic, I think I've fucked it all up. I need you here."

"I need your help."
 
Words: 783
GP: 15

She didn't know what to say. She could reach out, touch her, comfort her and smile and grin and whisper sweet reassurances that the world wasn't ending, that she could ride it out if she tried, that it was--is--would be fine, that this is what living is like and she wanted to share because it didn't look like anyone else knew, but that might make it worse. That might make her recoil and dance, swear, vomit across the room and leave and hurt others or stay and hurt herself and she couldn't--they couldn't--fuck up on this.

Normally she'd laugh. Normally she'd smile that broken smile and leave this wreckage of a girl to find someone else to laugh with, to fuck or fuck up, to bless or break. Normally she'd never think of this again, never notice the wreckage in her wake, all the shards of fragile people. She'd never even look, but now she stares at the harm she's done and it matters and she's scared because what can she do? Whatever she does, anything could make it worse, doing nothing could make it worse and she can't, she couldn't, and she, and--panic.

This is panic.

She could just leave, she could just, just go and forget this, it was stupid anyway, it's broken she's broken and there's no bringing her back, she was stupid to try how stupid could she be? Eighty years and still she didn't know she couldn't be saved?! Just another fuck-up to live with, to forget. Just another mark on a black soul. She'd be fine. She'd keep going. She'd done worse things and kept going. She'd just leave.

There was a noise behind her. A presence. A reassuring grin, a fast voice, words spewing from him and he looked at her with competence he didn't always feel and she knew she knew he would fix it, that it'd be okay.

Panic washed away with a smile.

"Oh, I didn't know you had company!" She was looking at him, at them, her eyes wide in childish delight. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--I'd have been... quieter... it's not that important I guess! You can come back when you're done, she'll, uhm, still be here."

"Oh, it's okay," she said, looking at Vic's new girl--Kiriko?--to try to reassure her. "I don't mind. We've always been very open." She turned back to Victor, sliding her hand up his back and resting it on his shoulder, almost touching his neck. "You should have told me, though! You know how I like to play sometimes! Maybe later, once you break her in?"

"Ugh!" she said, closing her eyes and slapping herself in the face. "I've been so rude, I didn't even think to--she's not one of them, silly. She's a friend. She just got married! I gave her a wedding present, but, well, you know how sometimes people tell you things about themselves because they want to fit in but they're not really true? She said she could take it and, well... yeah. Really, she'll be fine in a while, once it runs its course."

"Well," she whispered to Victor, "that or she'll die."
 
Words: 527
GP: 10  (25)

There were sounds and voices echoing all around her, most of them blurred together in a confusing cacophony that only served to heighten Amaya's paranoia. They were going to come and get her all because she had made a silly mistake. She was going to die tonight and there was no way to escape that. Why did she always have to stick her nose into other people's business?! Her arms tightened around her knees and she sniffled, her eyes burning with tears despite her telling herself over and over that crying wouldn't do any good. When had crying ever gotten her anywhere?

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt someone prod her. Her head snapped up and she blinked away her tears, pressing herself against the wall as she stared at the leg of the man. Now she focused on something other than her own depression. The man before her... His voice sounded familiar... Just as he turned to address someone else, Amaya's eyes made their way up to his head. He looked... Familiar. W-wait...

"Victor..?" She whimpered.

She had to stare at him for a moment longer before she could be sure this was the same man she had met not all that long ago. The man who had helped her deal with a certain series of events that surely made the Human world news and also gave her a new hesitance to visiting museums ever again. But this was him. Not only did he look like the same person, but he felt like same person. Even through her emotional haze, she could still feel the pressures around her. The chaotic one from Maya, the light one from the princess, and Victor's somehow encouraging one. Not that she felt any better about her situation, but there was a sense of comforting that came with having a familiar face around.

Shakingly, she pulled herself to her feet and hesitantly reached out for the man only to pull her hand back to her chest uncertainly. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was a bit more even now that tears had mostly dried up, though she still sounded two seconds away from a total meltdown. Speaking of meltdown, she looked around, noticing the sudden amount of people in the room. Maya was back and for whatever reason was practically groping Victor. The head investigator, Kiriko, was also in the room which further backed up Amaya's previous idea of her blowing her cover to high hell.

She cleared her throat. "K-Kiriko.. I uh..." How was she supposed to explain all of this? She supposed honesty was the best policy. "Maya here," she gestured to the woman in question, "put something in my mouth and now I feel like an emotional high schooler..."

[463. 9]

[55 GP]

She paced, in the doorway, with such a smoldering stare that she might as well be burning holes in the faces of each occupant. The door closed with a soft finality as Hiro ran off, she hoped he wasn't actually going to get sandwiches, but in that moment she really didn't care what he was doing. So long as he was gone. Because Aneue was crooning a whisper-silent dirge, all blood soaked and moonlight and Kiriko felt her own blood flow faster with a hop and a skip through her veins. She tasted blood in her mouth, from grit teeth, and quietly probed the bite with her tongue as the three people revolved around each other like a matched set of orbiting planets. Who was the sun here? That was the biggest question.

Maya. The girl who knew more then she was letting on. With dangled fairy wings and an insane smile. Kiriko felt a cold dread slide down her back just by looking at her. As she realized that as hard as Victor had been to crack this girl would be all the harder. It was predictable, that he would surround himself with lunatics. She flicked her hands down towards her hip, caressing the sword at her side. And Aneue purred.

Victor. The man who was both an idiot and a savant. She wasn't sure if she regretted not gutting him or not yet. It was hard to tell, but the closer he swam to her face the more she itched to slam her blade through his throat. It was an ugly feeling, the crawl of bugs up and down her arms, but she resisted. Just barely. Today wasn't a play day, she had to be serious and focused and get the job done. Just like always. When Tsukimiya-taichou returned he would want to hear about this. About what she had achieved here today.

So she stood, and she watched, and she stared blankly without emotion. All bottled up like fireflies in her chest. They beat their wings against the glass but only failed to bruise themselves in the process. She was an iron cage for emotion. Because Kiriko was perfect, and she would get to the bottom of this whole affair. Whatever it took. For Tsukimiya-taichou.

The other interrogator was a face she didn't recognize. She wasn't even sure of a name. But disliked the way the woman lurched towards Victor as if they had some past acquaintance. That was mighty odd, a note she filed away for later. “You let a suspect touch you?” she asked incredulously, her eyebrows rising in shock. Then, slowly, she shook her head and exhaled, “Never mind that, just take your time and gather your wits. We still need you to do your work.” This was something she wouldn't forget. Failure of that magnitude was a heavy transgression. She would find this girl's name and mar her records for all time. She'd be finding another profession quick enough when Kiriko was done with her. Letting someone shove something in your mouth when you're their captor? The idiocy was astounding.

Her head swished as she turned to stare at the entwined Victor and Maya duo. She normally knew what to do in these situations, but the way that Maya's expressions flowed so fluidly from one emotion to the next was jarring. They were all honest emotions, but the rapid change was a sure sign of some mental illness. She wasn't staying on any balanced road, and it was disturbing to watch the girl float around so oddly. “Maya-san, I've come to ask you a few questions. Perhaps you two should sit down,” she gestured to the table and chairs. Someone had found a third one, probably back when there had been more people in this room.

Kiriko walked towards the table, leaning against the chair bonelessly as she patted the top of the chintzy table. “If you give anyone else any wedding presents, we'll have to restrain you again,” her eyes glittered then, and she patted her sword once more, the tone obvious despite her kindly words. “Now then, how did you meet Victor,” she mouth, her head yearning to switch that name to the bitch's, but knowing that the truth of this debacle was more important. 

WC: 701 | GP: 14 | Total GP: 14

She could feel his tension in the way he moved, in the crick of his spine, and she knew that there was more to it. Her joke--the act she played, her almost not quite true pretend little game--became a little bit more real. He'd taught her this. When in doubt, lie. They couldn't hurt her when she lied. They couldn't hurt her when she didn't know which parts of her were real.

So she stuck her tongue out, and she smiled. She licked him and she grinned and unfocused her eyes and felt the way his skin rose in patterns under her moist caress and she tasted his words. "Threat", he said. "Threat." It was hard to remember but she'd tried. For this, she tried. He was so patient with her and so, so driven, reining himself back in even when she kept fucking it up.

"Threat", is what it said. If it wasn't "Ice", or, or "Fire" or "Home" or... No, she was sure. She remembered, she thought... She knew. "Threat." This woman could hurt them.

She stared and she disguised her stare, made it something like jealousy, something like appraisal. Her eyes lingered on hips, her tits, her reddish lips, but in peripheral vision she studied her clothes, her sword, the way she held herself. She never looked into the other woman's eyes.

There was a sneer on her lips. No, a smile. Both, neither, changing. She sat and then she didn't sit. She fidgeted; was perfectly still. Her body moved as her mind did... the thing that was almost like thinking, but just a little too slow. She was very clever once, she knew that, but... So easy not to think at all.

She knew... what? That something was wrong? She knew the woman was dangerous. She knew that... the other one, the one she broke, already knew Victor's name. She knew she didn't like looking at the girl in the corner. She didn't like remembering. She didn't like being here.

Reason enough.

The bindings slithered off her hands and she stood, giving that same smile--just a hint of not quite right--that she gave so naturally.

"We'll walk," she said, and her voice was low.

"I mean..." There, now her voice was full of life again. Give it that lilt. "I'm parched, aren't you?" She gagged, theatrically, raised her voice. "Thirsty, yeah?" Nodded in Victor's direction, in the broken girl's, until they--in hesitant pantomime--did the same.

"No, don't get up." She laid her hand on the leg of a guard slow to react to her effortless escape and pulsed her power through him, around him, and the leg of his pants clutched, grew inquisitive and investigated somewhere entirely unpleasant. "Don't. I'll get it." He didn't argue.

"I'll tell you, if you like, but..."

Words: 466
GP: 9