A rather foul odor was creeping out from Snipe's quarters as Ravess trotted by, home from target practice. Her nose wrinkled with distaste. She knew for a fact that not all men were like him; Dark Ace's room was clean and smelled perfectly normal. But this?
This was an absolute travesty.
She knocked on the door with her bow, pinching her nose.
"The door's open," a low voice said. Ravess tried the handle. It wouldn't budge.
"No, id is nod," she replied, voice nasal and high pitched.
"You have to push," Snipe shouted, annoyed. She leaned back and kicked. The door swung open, accompanied by a sloshy, sticky noise. Ravess didn't know what made it, and wasn't sure she wanted to, either. The smell hit her full blast. Snipe was plopped conveniently on the sofa, radio on, eating...as always.
"Snipe, when was the last time you took out the trash?" Ravess said, covering her mouth. Her golden eyes fell onto the overflowing trash can. A few blue bottle flies were relishing the feast laid before them in messy spledor. Snipe shrugged his massive shoulders.
"Dunno."
"Ugh." She walked in, lightly avoiding the mess before her. She was so used to walking through messes...She found a pair of gloves in his bathroom, walked back outside, and tied the trash bag up, wincing at the gunky fluid in the bottom of the can.
"What are you doing?" Snipe asked blankly. Ravess rolled her eyes.
"It's called cleaning. I don't suppose you've ever heard of it." She tossed the trash down the chute located in the hallway, before throwing the gloves away as well. She peered back into his room.
"You leaving?" he grunted.
"You bet I am," she replied, closing the door. Her ears were greeted with another squishing sound. Eugh.
Cleanliness wasn't a big part of her routine; as a matter of fact, she didn't scrub or vacuum at all. Reason why? She didn't have to. Ravess was rarely ever home. She preferred her headquarters on Bluster, which had belonged to Cyclonia for decades. It didn't matter to her that people thought her strange. She knew about the whispers behind her back about how uptight she was, how she was a perfectionist. She took it as a compliment. Even Snipe had taken to making snide comments about her. How she had OCD and couldn't go one week without taking a shower. People raised eyebrows at the last one; didn't EVERYONE shower every week?
Uptight? Maybe.
Had OCD? Probable.
But perfectionist? Ha. If they wanted a perfectionist, they should have seen my mother. Total control. That was the sole goal of her life. It was HER who taught Ravess how to play violin.
Ravess and Snipe were the only two high ranking Talon officials who knew how the other half of Cyclonia lived. Below the palace, in the city of eternal fire, was where Snipe and Ravess were born. She had grown up a normal child...until she was about seven. That was the day mother slapped a violin in my hands. The day I became another human being's puppet. I still am. Always will be.
And so days had gone by, the house filled with violin music. Sometimes bad, sometimes ok. Always never good enough, however.
One time, Ravess had squeaked on a note. Her mother had stopped her.
"You made a mistake." For what seemed like the hundredth time. Ravess cracked, eyes blaring as she tossed the bow to the floor.
"It's just ONE mistake, one little thing I did wrong! I know I hit a wrong note, but it's just a HARMLESS mistake!"
Her mother had looked at her, eyes silent and calm. Like the tide, pulling back before crashing down. And she said, rather tersely, "There is no such thing as a harmless mistake." And then she picked up the bow, put it into Ravess's fingers, and told her to continue.
Now, here she was, millions of mistakes later, still alive. Ever since the Storm Hawks had come back, things had changed. No longer was she a respected official. She was the sharpshooter who had failed too many times to count. First, when they invaded the palace. Then, at Glockenchime. After that, losing the Leechers. A list that went on and on and on...
Time couldn't erase the scratches on Ravess's life. She wasn't made of stainless steel. She wasn't like Dark Ace, who was always stoic, never scared, never doubted. Cyclonis trusted him with her life. Ravess often looked upon him with envy. Once upon a time, many months ago, she too, had been trusted. And then, along came the Storm Hawks. And they ruined everything.
That, she supposed, was why she hated them so much. Why she sneered at them when they fought. Because they made her feel, to some extent, important. Needed, almost. She had to be here to help defeat them. In the end, those kids would crumble. They always did.
She wasn't a statue.
She wasn't made of stone.
She was human. And being human meant accepting life as it came to you.
Ravess concluded one thing about herself, right then, as she was wiping the muck from her hands.
She was far from perfect. And that was alright.