“Did you hear?”

Newly returning from a drug induced haze, Melita processed the conversational tone before decoding the words. Cracking open an eye, she scrutinized the man lying next to her and sharing her spot on her rug, debating whether she had the right to roll him off.

Probably not.

The dilapidated warehouse was home to all kinds, from runaways to criminals, and that sort of behavior would get her in the owner’s bad books for a little while again.

He was a young one, maybe 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 slowly, 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 move to 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. “There’s you.”

Though he couldn’t have known, he hit the nail right on the head. Melita couldn’t stop the amusement that bubbled out of 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. He was younger than most of the people that tried their luck, but it wasn’t like she had something to do at the moment. Parting her lips, she let him drop it in, her tongue darting across the tip of his thumb as a reward, before swallowing. “I suppose. Nice figure. Do you train a lot?”

His grin widening to take up almost half his face, he leaned back as he stared at said thumb, oozing with satisfaction. “Basic calisthetics. 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 wasn’t impossible. Unfortunately, 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, with half her head shaved, leather jacket and combat boots. Melita had always thought that she’d be one of the first few captured, with how distinctive she looked and all. 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 said defensively, though she couldn’t help her own smile. 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 else. 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 boy asked, now obviously entertaining more than a few fantasies.

Melita rolled her eyes, her lips trailing over Teresa’s skin before she gently nibbled at a bruised knuckle. “Take a guess.”

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

“Everyone knows.” Melita said, sitting up.

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

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work. In a wonderful show of flexibility, Teresa got off the box and sat beside her 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. “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, her jaw clenched tight with the stress. She definitely thought that Melita wanted them to die together, that she 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 Teresa’s 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 a boar, amongst other characteristics. It would be hers 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 though she had to personally guide her, she'd never been great with magic. With her focus on physicality and 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. 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 powers, and given how bad Teresa was at the arcane, that wasn’t nearly enough to guarantee her survival. Still, that would have to do. She 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. 

Unfortunately, awareness started to dawn on that face and there was a loud blast from the warehouse door. Melita looked over, her heart thudding loudly against her ribcage, louder than the screams. Everything was starting to go a little hazy, courtesy of the drug. As a member of the boar branch, they had stronger physical bodies and constitutions than any normal human, able to stomach most things. The only time they could be under a substance's influence was if they wanted to be.

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

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

She just needed to buy some time.