Nadia
It was a fog, how I ended up here. But I remember her. I remember her as clear as day.
And how strong such a small hand could be.
The way she lights up a whole room with just a smile.
In fact, I can’t seem to rid myself of her, nor of that image. Her fiery hair ablaze atop her head, lose strands of reddish brown escaping her bun; the way her smile shows off her crooked front teeth with charm; the teasing look in her bright eyes that catches the attention of every young man in the rookie wing, perhaps even the whole campus. It got my attention too.
But I didn’t come here to meet friends. I have to keep reminding myself of that. So I look away next time she waves while making her way over to the cafeteria, that shy pet of hers trotting in tow.
“Nadia!” She shouts with glee and my nose wrinkles with distaste. I’ve never like attention. Because attention is never good. Though, with my plan, I suppose I’ll have to get used to it. Not now though. Right now I have to disappear into the background which is proving impossibly difficult due to one factor. Her.
“What did I tell you?” I say quietly when she gets close. I don’t make eye contact, instead focus on assessing how many young adults around us have already begun integrating themselves into their divisions. Wearing their uniforms, conversing with existing members. I cannot let myself fall behind. I won’t let myself get removed for something so foolish.
“Yeah yeah,” She giggles. “Don’t call you by your name in public.” The girl behind her folds her arms over her chest as her eyes widen and cheeks blush bright with embarrassment. She bows her head, averting her eyes to the floor. She’s impossibly shy. And very obviously does not like me.
Which is fine by me. In fact, it makes my job easier not having to pretend.
“Don’t say it like that,” I say with a sigh.
“Like what?” She asks, innocent as a devious woman like her could be. Her smile gives her away far too quickly.
“Don’t give people ideas. And I didn’t say that. I said not to call me by my name. At all. In fact don’t refer to me or even speak to me.”
“You say that but you don’t mean it. Besides, how are you supposed to make friends by not interacting with others?”
“I don’t need friends,” I say curtly. “I prefer my own company.”
“Everyone needs a friend. Even only one.”
“Why do you want to be close to me so badly?” I scowl. I lift my tray and head to the trash. I don’t have to turn to know they’re following me.
“Is it so wrong to want to be your friend?” She asks, a pout clear in her voice.
“Aoife,” I say sharply, turning to face her. But she’s closer than I expect. And I’m drowning in a sea of deep green before I can even take another breath. She’s looking at me expectantly, like if she presses hard enough, she’ll break through my walls. And, for the first time in my life, I’m afraid she just might.
So I clear my throat, take a step back and gather my composure.
“You should be friends with others from your class. Not me.” That earns a deep frown from her. The pet’s eyes behind her dart from me to Aoife.
Aoife doesn’t back down. She steps closer, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly to make her look taller, bigger than just a 5’4” thin, birdlike teen.
“And who says we aren’t in the same class?”
“You?” I chuckle in disbelief. “A soldier?”
“That’s right,” She says with a proud grin. I blink, my smile melting.
“Wait, you’re being serious?”
“Yes!” She laughs and practically jumps on me, throwing her arms around my shoulders. My hands find her waist and I step back to steady us. For some reason my heart beats wildly in my chest. It must be because I’ve never had someone so dauntlessly approach me before, not like her. I swallow hard, unable to keep my voice from cracking slightly.
“Who did you have to bribe for that to happen?”
“No one!” She laughs, playfully punching my shoulder. The touch is far more tender than I anticipated. I find myself staring at the area, feeling an odd sense of warmth radiate from it, like her hand is still there, resting.
“I don’t believe it,” I mutter. “I don’t think there’s a single bad bone in your body. How can you be a soldier?”
“Because being a soldier isn’t just about fighting. It’s about protecting,” Aoife says simply. Her warm breath tickles my ear and only then do I realize we’re still caught mid-embrace. I catch the eyes of the girl behind her and drop my hands, now limp at my side. I don’t know why my first reaction is to make no big deal of it. But I don’t concentrate on that, nor of the way the girl, very briefly, looks at me with something like betrayal in her eyes. Maybe that’s why I quickly shove myself away, trying my best to play off my cowardice by averting my gaze.
“When you find something worth protecting, you’re no longer just defending yourself. You’re fighting for something more, for something precious.”
"Well that's a difference between us," I say, quickly clearing my throat. "You fight for protection. I fight for change."
A constellation of freckles dance across her cheeks as she frowns. Even such a sharp expression looks delicate on her face. I find myself wondering if she has freckles all over, if every part of her body is kissed by the stars in the same way.
"Oh come on, Nadia. Have you never had a single person in your life that you've wanted to protect?" She asks. Aoife places two small but sturdy hands on my shoulders. I flinch. I can't help it. It's my natural reaction to most any touch.
But this one feels different. Her touch brings a new nervousness to my skin, raises goosebumps like she summoned electricity to the very surface.
It's not fearful nervousness. Rather of... anticipation.
"No," I respond, fighting the frog in my throat. Her frown flips to something far more mischievous in an instant.
"Well you'll protect me right? You'll fight off all the bluecaps for me, won't you?"
She has this magic about her, the way she can hex me so quickly to strangulation. Perhaps her gift is her tongue, her lips, her eyes. Her charm.
"Protect yourself," I mutter, turning away to hide the heat rising to my cheeks. My whole face burns from something like embarrassment. How could I be embarrassed? Such a mundane emotion is beneath me.
And still I found myself clinging to every word she said.
Aoife laughs, a golden sound. I hate the way it makes me feel. I hate the way I always have to remind myself why I'm here, why making friends would only put me at a disadvantage.
"What's her class?" I ask abruptly, motioning to the girl with black hair who lingers behind Aoife. She's younger than us by a few years I'd guess. She still has a bit of baby face that followed her into her teenage years. She looks maybe fourteen or so. I'm seventeen, turning eighteen next month.
I don't actually care, I'm just desperate for a change of conversation. I hate being the center of attention.
"Silva? Oh she's in class A."
Silva's eyes dart away. She pulls her sweatshirt closer to herself as though to hide within it, clearly also disliking the attention.
"Silva, show Nadia what you can do!"
The pet looks terrified when Nadia says that. She looks at me with wide eyes. Begging me to say something to interject. Maybe I would, but a curiosity catches me. What does Nadia find impressive? Would my gift be anywhere on that list?
Defeated, Silva shuts her eyes tight, turning her open palms to fists. A small glowing butterfly spawns from the air, fluttering its bluish wings gently before landing on Aoife's nose. The young woman laughs, eyes trained on her own nose. Something bitter creeps inside me, hearing her laugh like that over something so small and worthless.
I swat at the butterfly, though my hand sails right through it. Silva opens her eyes, blushes bright red when she looks between us.
"She hasn't quite mastered the art of making her illusions opaque but isn't it so cool?" Aoife laughs. I swallow that bitter feeling. Its unimportant. I shouldn't be so invested anyways.
"It's... fine," I mumble.
"Arent you going to ask me?" She asks brightly, that devilish smile clear as day on her red lips.
"Ask you... what?" I ask. She laughs. I feel sour, like the brute end of a bad joke. But there's no malice in her laughter, not a trace. So why?
"What my gift is! You know, my "superpower" like the freshies call them." My mouth twitches at the word. Not that she or anyone here knows, but I'm part of that group. "Freshies" short for freshwaters, which is the infamous name given for the first province, the ignorant mortal province.
But no one can know that. They'll all look at me differently, wrongly. Freshies got their name for a reason.
They're vile.
"What is your gift?" I ask slowly. She flutters her long lashes, tosses her red ringlets over her shoulder.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
I roll my eyes.
"You're ridiculous." I expect some kind of snide response but Aoife only smiles, her green sea-glass eyes opening for mine. I need to stop this, cut my losses before they happen.
Before I can grow weaker, I turn on my heel, unable to trust my voice.
"Hey where are you going? I'm just joking! I'll tell you if you want to know," Aoife says through a playful giggle.
"I don't," I say, walking further down the hallway. Even though some small, small part of me does. Just to know. Research. That's all.
"Liar!" She yells through a grin. I refuse to turn around. Knowing I'll get sucked right back into her orbit.
"See you tomorrow Nadia!"
This time I don't scowl, even as she screams my name through the echo of the wide halls. I just run, anything to escape this wild fluttering in my chest.
Still it follows me. Lingers like the warmth of her hand on my shoulder.
That’s all I can think about all night. Her hex.
***
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