xiah
You see, it’s very out of character for the little black to sleep at any time besides designated sleeping times. With Kida to raise and herself to take care of, why, naps are at the top of her wish list, but the bottom of her to do list. So when she leaves Kida to her own devices to for a stealthy venture to the meadow, you better bet your bottom that she indulges herself. After zooming around via telekinesis just to bother the peasants, of course. But after that! Yes, after that, a well-earned nap.
Well-earned, but perhaps not well-had.
The sudden introduction thoroughly convinces her that she’s awoken to some imbecilic meadow-dweller intent on disrupting her beauty sleep. Grey eyes flashing as they open, she opens her mouth to speak (and bite) but instead lands up gaping comically at the thing. Yes, the thing. Xiah chokes on her spit and coughs horrendously when she attempts speech – and of course, while she’s basically suffocating, the thing turns her into a human.
Gross.
Keeled over, grey eyes wide, black hands clutching at her dark throat, the slight teenager only manages to compose herself when she’s forced to make a choice. Running a lithe hand through her curly razed hair, Xiah glances from red door to black. One dripping (with blood?) and one glowing. One might guess that she would stumble towards the black door, the door that reflects both her equine fur and her human skin. Chest heaving, she does the exact opposite.
”Well… Bye,” She says dazedly. Skittering to the red door, she grasps the knob and slowly twists, until with one last glance to Missy, she slips through.
London would be cold to most foreigners, but having known only the Tundra in her two short years (roughly fourteen human years) the city only warms her. Running her hands over a plain white t-shirt and some insulated track pants, Xiah looks around for these supposed companions.
“The name’s Jude,” the voice of a powerful woman says. She’s leaning against a dusky, red-bricked house, knife cleaning a nail absent mindedly. Xiah gives her a one over; they’re nearly the same in these bodies. Ebony skinned, razed hair, stormy grey eyes; Xiah becomes strangely reminded of Kida, though she’s grown accustomed to being the largest of the pair. In this instance, she remains lithe and agile, while Jude is muscled and raw.
“And I’m Justice,” comes the casual low-note of a male. Whipping around, Xiah spots the sinewy man, a rugged balance of scars and buff and well-hidden damage with an explosion of blonde hair to top it all off. Swallowing in an attempt to keep her breakfast from coming up, the girl leans against the door from which she has come.
This new world feels inexplicably wrong to her, or perhaps the city’s cool air really is getting to her. Clutching her arms, the young, wide-eyed girl stares from Jude to Justice, Justice to Jude, and back again.
“Well kid? We haven’t got forever. Jack’s been looming lately, running rampant ever since he got Mayor Boris last month.” Justice manages to retain his casual tone, arms crossed over a wide chest. Cocking a brow at her, he coaxes an answer from the slight girl with a motion of his two forefingers.
“Xi—“ the rest of her name meets their ears as a scream of the doomed. Just beyond the shadows, a strange creature looms; when she spots it, it emerges. All teeth and slime and yellowed eyes; matted fur and sharpened claws and rank breath.
Quick as an arrow, Jude looses her dagger towards the werewolf. In the same moment, Justice lunges forward, shoving Xiah towards Jude. A howl breaks through the hushed clamour, for Jude’s aim is true; through the monster’s collarbone the dagger sticks. The wound festers immediately, smoking softly with an audible sizzle.
Sobbing erratically (tsk, tsk, what a burden) Xiah can only stare. Stare as the beast leaps, transforms mid-air in a grotesque show of bones and blood, and attaches itself to Justice. Stare at the blood leaking from its smoking wound, though he be werewolf no longer, but instead an anaconda. Stare as he impales his fangs through Justice’s neck, body contracting immediately to suffocate its victim. Stare as Justice struggles, mouths run, and collapses.
(It’s hard to be casual when you’re dying).
Tear-filled eyes preventing her from watching the finale, Xiah doesn’t feel the powerful hands leading her through the darkening streets. With each step her senses return slightly, and with each turn of the corner her feet remember what it is to run. Why the fuck can’t I fly, she screams internally, but externally she begins outrunning Jude, though she screams directions like an army general. Tears drying against her dark cheeks, Xiah cringes at the distant sounds of Justice’s final battle.
“Kid! In here!” Fumbling through her underclothing, Jude slams into a wooden door. Xiah keels over, hands on knees, body vibrating. Next thing she knows, her sickness lays upon the cobblestone, her breakfast making its first appearance. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, the young girl stands up, sniffling as she does so.
Stumbling closer to her companion, Xiah barely sees the key with which Jude unlocks the wooden door. All white and bone-like; her curiosity peaks, but when her mouth opens to speak she only becomes sick again.
Looking upon the girl with vast pity, Jude cracks open the door. “Xi, in here.” Xiah notices the misuse of her name and focuses slightly. Their winter eyes meet, luminous holes against the terror of night. “Fucking now please,” she growls suddenly. Grabbing the smaller girl violently, Jude stuffs her into the cellar with a horrific strength.
Darting in just after her, Jude slams the door and latches it. Not a beat later, metallic wailing noises berate their ears. Xiah collapses to the cool floor and clutches her head, wailing alongside the demon and dreaming of Kida.
Jude, on the other hand, begins screaming at the door. “GO AWAY YOU FUCKING WRAITH!” Her knuckles split when they meet the splintered door. “YOU GOT JUSTICE, ISN’T THAT ENOUGH FOR YOU?” Dissolving into tears, Jude paces from corner to corner, occasionally abusing the door which protects them, both physically and verbally.
Whimpering, cowers, never releasing her ears.
Kida, Errant, Lea, Kida, Errant, Lea… And so, she prays.
You won't have any friends, and I'll live in a room
With flowers on the walls, and golden doorknobs